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taintedcigs · 8 months

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eddie w tattoo artist reader..... trying SO hard to seem like he's not dying from pain while she tattoos his chest, bc he's trying to impress her. she's the coolest girl he's ever seen and the fact that her art is on him forever makes him so giddy and happy, almost as happy as getting her number

call me if you need a groupie — e.m.

yes yes yes yes yes. a thousand times yes to this. thank u for this request omg i looooove lovesick cutie eddie soooooo much. this was meant to be a blurb but now its a 2.8k+ fic oops. idk if there were exclusive shirts ok i tried to do my research but this is the best i could get and idk how tattoo processes are so take everything i wrote w a grain of salt !! not proofread as always so ignore any mistakes and also idk why but i looved writing for this dynamic and if anyone would be interested i could write a pt.2 for some smut !! (maybe sub!eddie or switch!eddie? 👀)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!tattoo artist!reader (wc: 2.8k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI w any of my works!!. just pure fluff!! maybe the teeniest tiniest angst, eddie is kinda insecure <3, eddie is a lovesick cutie honey pie !! and swearing? oh also tattooing ofc (needles n stuff)

He doesn't mean to flinch, he doesn't mean to show you how stressed he is, but you can sense it.

Each time the needle presses against his skin, he hisses, mouth biting onto his lips, harsh enough to draw blood.

But Eddie doesn’t care, you—the hottest and coolest girl—that has ever graced the hellhole that was Hawkins was tattooing him, and Eddie couldn’t afford to look like a coward.

So with everything in him, he shut his lips, biting on them, becoming accustomed to the metallic taste because it didn’t matter, not when you looked so fucking pretty when cooing him and your free hand squeezed his biceps for reassurance.

He didn’t know what to admire first, the way your lips quirked sweetly when you answered his dumb questions, the way you looked so focused with your lip between your teeth, trying to tattoo him, or the fact that you were wearing an Anthrax shirt, and not just any regular Anthrax shirt that you could find at those regular shops, it was an exclusive shirt that was only sold at the concerts, and he had to gulp physically at that.

You were a tattoo artist… and a metal fan? How perfect could you get?

Before his questions were answered, the needle pricked at his skin again, he cursed out, and instead of screaming in his mind, he whimpered out loud this time.

Your head perked up quickly and Eddie was now cursing himself, for being a fucking idiot, for looking like a coward in front of you.

“I can slow down if you want to,” You said with a smile, a sweet smile that adorned your perfectly red lips, they looked so fucking kissable.

“N–no!” He stuttered, but you gave him a huff. “C’mon Eds, you’re doing good… better than anyone I’ve ever tattooed has, we can slow down a bit.” You reassured.

His eyes lit up like a child, Eds? His new acquired nickname rolled off your tongue so sweetly, your words dripped in honey. And Eddie decided he would do anything to hear you call him that again.

Not only did you call him Eds, but you also said he was better than the others, and the childish grin on Eddie’s lips was quick to grow again, his entire body relaxing as he almost melted into you.

“You think so?” He asked, tone giddy and all sweet, causing a pretty giggle to escape your lips.

“I know so!” You hummed. “Tattooed a guy yesterday. He was tall. Like really fucking tall, and he had this long beard and tattoos everywhere!” You exaggerated, watching Eddie’s eyes widen. “He cried like a baby the second that needle prickled his skin!”

“And look at you, taking everything I’m giving you like a champ,” You winked.

If only you knew the affect you had on him, Eddie’s entire face grew red at that, he would, without hesitation take anything you gave him.

He tried, so fucking hard not to think about it, but now his mind was filled with the images of you, sitting on his faze, your pretty cunt glistening as he lapped away at your juices.

He imagined those pretty manicured fingers discarding his hair, ruffling while those pretty little lips were hung open, chanting his name. Your whines and whimpers would fill the room as he begged for you to cum in his mouth. He wouldn’t stop until you smothered him.

Until all he could taste was you.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, because the blood was quick to rush to his cock, and he didn’t want to have his bulge hardening against his tight pants anymore than he needed to, you were inches away from him and he wanted to seem cool–so fucking badly.

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded swiftly. “So brave for me.” You coo, lips lightly brushing against his cheek, as you plant a little kiss.

And Eddie was sure this was heaven now, he blinked quickly to make sure he wasn't dreaming, the light kiss you left on his cheeks lingered, and he could feel it burn.

His cheeks were purely crimson red now, he couldn't fucking help it. He ached for you, ached to have you close to him, ached to feel your touch, and everything you did was enough to drive him crazy, make him feel out of his fucking mind.

He was putty in your hands and you had no fucking idea.

His mouth stood agape, a dumbfounded look overtaking his features for too fucking long until the soft buzz of the machine brought him back again, the needle quick to puncture the skin's surface again, causing Eddie to squeeze his eyes shut as he tried his best not to fucking scream.

Be cool, be cool, be fucking cool Edward Munson.

He repeated it like a mantra in his head, and he was glad you were focusing on tattooing the cute sketch you made for him, and not his actual face that probably looked straight out of a horror movie.

“So—uh... c—cool shirt,” Eddie muttered, voice so low that he was surprised when you hummed back at him.

“Oh, yeah,” You muttered.

“You listen to Anthrax?” You asked with a beaming smile, gaze still focused on Eddie's arm.

Eddie huffed painfully but realized quickly that the nervousness of talking to you was overpowering the pain of the tattoo gun drilling into his skin.

“Are you kidding? Anthrax, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath... Megadeth! You name it I probably listen to it,” He hummed, and your eyes glimmered, causing Eddie's breath to hitch and his wavering nervousness to appear again. “Metal is my jam, baby!” He exclaimed, not too loud to disturb your tattooing process but loud enough to cause a giggle out of you.

Metal is my jam? Baby? Who the fuck says that?

Eddie was afraid to look into your eyes now, afraid to see the gaze everyone gives him.

Like he's an outsider like he's a freak.

But when he hears that pretty giggle of yours again, comfort takes over him, nervousness dissipating quickly when he sees the gentle look you give him.

Almost as if to let him know that you also love those bands. Almost as if to let him know that he wasn't an outsider because you were just like him.

“Dio?” You asked with a curious gaze, face beaming up when Eddie nodded furiously.

“Fuckin' love Dio,” He muttered, barely realizing the needle on his skin now, all thanks to you.

“Uhh—how did you even get that shirt?” Eddie asked, almost shyly, admiring the way you were neatly tattooing him.

“I wanted to go to that concert so badly but the tickets were sold out so quickly.” He added.

“Oh! I was Belladonna's groupie,” You muttered mindlessly, the pain as you prickled the needle was an afterthought to Eddie now, almost forgetting how to breathe, he coughed, quite loudly, causing you to look up at him and see the bewildered look on his face.

You stopped the machine when you chuckled lightly, "Oh, Eds!"

There it was, that nickname again, god you were dizzying his mind.

“I was just joking,” You smiled at him, and he wanted to melt, right then and there. "Needed to go a little bit deeper so I thought I'd distract you," You shrugged, and Eddie returned the smile.

He liked the feeling of having someone care about him, he liked talking to you, and he sure as hell enjoyed being with someone so similar to him—someone so fucking cool.

“Though I did go to that concert in 1987.” You could feel Eddie’s curious gaze on you

“My friend knew their manager,” You murmured again.

"Really?!? How was it?" He asked, face beaming again.

“So fucking cool.” You gushed as you started talking about their set list, how the first punch you ever threw was at that concert, and you enthusiastically animated Donais' guitar riff, earning a hearty chuckle from Eddie. He loved every bit of your story, listening attentively as your exaggerations enticed him more and more.

The longer you tattooed him, the more comfortable Eddie got, pain was no longer his main concern when all he wanted to do was make you laugh, hear that sweet giggle escaping from your lips, admire the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him so sugary.

Minutes stretched into hours as you focused on his tattoo, each pass of the needle causing a smile on your face as the sketch you made became more intricate and alluring on his bare skin.

“All done!” You exclaimed with a smile when you finally finished tattooing him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when the buzz of the machine was finally replaced with silence.

You couldn't help but trace every part of his face now, you wanted to see if he liked it, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach as you couldn't read Eddie's expressions.

“Oh my god,” Was all that left Eddie's lips, and your lips almost started to tremble.

Jesus fucking Christ, how bad did you fuck up?

“Oh my fucking god,” He repeated again, this time his head tilted upward to your direction, almost snapping as you looked at him with scared eyes.

But your gaze eased the second you saw the admiration in Eddie's gaze. “This is a fucking masterpiece!” He beamed, causing a smile on your lips, so fucking big and pretty that he wished he could have that tattooed instead.

“It's fucking perfect,” He muttered again, shaking his head in disbelief when he looked at the tattoo on his forearm.

“I mean when I saw that sketch, I knew you were good to , but holy shit,” He praised again, causing heat to grow in your cheeks, he had no idea how much it meant to you, to have someone appreciating your art, to have people walk around in the sketches you did, indelible on their skin. It felt so fucking good.

“It's...perfect.”

“Really?”

“Of fucking course,” He gushed. “You're so fuckin' talented it's crazy,” He muttered, fingertips gentle as they avoided glazing through the tattoo, but around it.

You were so fucking perfect it was killing him, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him knowing that your art would be etched into his skin, forever.

You couldn't shake off the thoughts in your head, swirling when Eddie uttered those compliments to you.

Your cheeks grew hot so quickly that you felt the need to turn around, trying to think of something to say to him so that you wouldn't look like a fucking idiot.

Eddie turned around to face you, the smile that brought out his dimples apparent in his face as he watched you scrabble something on a business card.

“Thank you,” You muttered when you turned around, hands almost shaking as you extended your arm to give Eddie the card.

He scrambled it into his back pocket, not caring when you were this close to him, but you frowned at that. “No, thank you, for this masterpiece” He winked, pointing toward his forearm.

He didn't even know where he got the confidence to even be able to wink at you, and his coolness wore off the second he exited the shop, a silent shrieking scream exited his mouth as he freaked out.

Your sketch. On his arm.

You. Tattoo artist. Metal fan.

You, kissing him on the cheek, talking to him for hours, laughing at his idiotic jokes.

You.

Eddie was sure he lost his mind, hands shaking as he reached for the card in his back pocket.

The card was black and the title on it was dripping with blood. He whined.

How much cooler were you going to get?

He gulped when he looked back, seeing you toward the clear glass door, and he knew.

He knew that if he didn't do it now, he could never do it, this was his only fucking chance, and he couldn't be a coward, not now, not when you were this close to him.

Eddie entered back into the shop in a frenzy, causing your head to pop up swiftly as you looked at him dumbfounded.

God, you were so gorgeous he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“C—can I ask you something?” He cleared his throat to not appear nervous, and you nodded, furiously.

“Look, I know this is weird and all... but... uhm, I really feel like we connected,” He muttered, fingers tapping against the glass counter that you were standing behind in.

“And I thought maybe... uhhh... I could like—get your number or somethin'?” He uttered anxiously, tilting his head slightly to the side, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips.

And even though why you laughed was reasonable, it was the worst fucking thing you could have done to Eddie.

Especially when your laugh seemed so mocking, almost different than the ones you gave him earlier before. Jogging deep into this memory of the countless times when Eddie tried to pluck up the courage to ask girls in his class out, only to be laughed in his face, or to have them insult him.

But this was more than that, it pained him.

It pained him to think that you thought of him like the others did. Like you saw him as an outsider, too.

His bubble of confidence that was already wavering was even quicker to fizzle out, he could feel that familiar lump in his throat, shoulders slumping as his gaze was quick to show his emotions.

He was hurt. And he was sure this hurt much more than a thousand needles breaking the barriers of his skin, “Uhhh,” He gave you a bitter chuckle. “Just.... never mind” He added, defeatedly turning back around to exit the shop once again as he ignored you calling out for him.

“Wait!” You yelled out after him, but Eddie started walking faster.

“Shit shit shit!” You cursed yourself for your little joke.

“Eds, please!” You called out again, this time effective enough to make Eddie stop in his tracks.

Eds. Oh you knew how to get him hooked, how to get him right where you wanted him.

And he hated himself for being this weak for you, someone he met, just recently.

“What?” He answered coldly, glaring at you with bitterness that made you want to hide out, that gentle soul in him disappearing in mere seconds.

And you sighed, hating that he could ever see you as someone that would make fun of him.

“Flip the card,” Your gaze on him was intense, cheeks growing hot again knowing that you were going to see his reaction to your stupid note.

“I don't have time for your bullshit” He spat, almost on his feet to leave.

You sighed. “Eds, just... will you just please flip the card?” You asked, all prettily that Eddie couldn't help but oblige, but be gentle with you again because he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

He huffed as he plucked the card out of the back pocket of his jeans, turning it over in one swift motion.

'CALL ME IF U NEED A GROUPIE' and your digits were attached right below it.

His gaze softened immediately, head drooping further as he huffed at himself.

He felt stupid, so fucking stupid.

Why did he ever think you would treat him like the others?

His chest expanded with hope when he looked back up at you, a soft smile graced his lips.

“Oh,” He muttered, not able to help the childish grin that was now stuck to his lips.

“Shut up,” You giggled, nudging him slightly.

“You owe me,” You narrowed your eyes sarcastically, causing his brows to quip.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” He asked, a newfound confidence washing him over when you were so easy to talk to.

“A date,” You beamed, scrunching your nose.

“Okay.” The words left his lips quickly, too quickly that it had you feeling giddy inside.

“How about tomorrow?” He didn't even know how he managed to get those words out without stuttering.

“Uhm—sure.” You were the one stuttering now, cheeks burning up as you could barely look at him. His grin was sickly inviting.

“I'll pick you up at 8?” You nodded so quickly that you were sure your head was about to fall off.

“See you tomorrow,” His voice was sultry as he winked again, making you almost melt, looking cool on the surface when all he wanted to do was go home, freak the fuck out, tell Wayne all about the cool girl who tattooed him, and not be able to sleep until your date tomorrow.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x tattoo artist!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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vsenyatargaryen · 2 years

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Can’t Be Tamed

Harwin Strong overhears some passing comment you make in the tavern about knights and is duty bound to prove you wrong.

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Warnings; 18+, smut, swearing, bratty!reader, hair pulling, spanking, biting, rough sex,oral, degradation kink, softy ending💕

W/C; 2,094 (was going to be just a Drabble but this guy got me in a chokehold👀)

“What do you think of Ser Harwin? Isn’t he handsome? What I would give for a night with a knight,” one of your friends working in the tavern swooned, making you glance over your shoulder with a smile at the dark haired, bearded man she was speaking about before turning your attention back to her.

“I hear men of the king are more suited to battle than being lovers. I doubt Ser ‘Breakbones’ is any different,” you told her, having a drink as she laughed and got back to her work, leaving you alone at the table.

“Is that so?” A familiar voice spoke, and you looked up to see Harwin Strong towering over you.

He was both handsome and confident in his stance, his beard and dark hair framing his face perfectly. It often took your breath away just catching his gaze across the room.

“Are you just talking from gossip or experience?” He questioned.

“Perhaps both,” you let a small smile pass your lips. “Though it isn’t ladylike to discuss it.”

Harwin Strong smirked and took a seat opposite you before picking up your cup and finishing the remains. The simple act showed his authority in a way that made you need to press your thighs together.

He licked his lips as he put the empty cup down, watching you intently as his gaze ran over your chest, breasts snug against the tight material of your dress, and back up to your face.

“I don’t see a lady here,” he challenged.

You huffed a laugh and leaned in close to him, giving him an ample view of your cleavage and relishing in the way his eyes darkened.

“I’m just some lowly tavern girl. I guess the princesses and ladies you see have cunts made of gold.”

The way his jaw clenched let you know you’d struck the final blow. You loved playing this game with him, seeing how far until he would break. With a sarcastic smile, you walked away, a purpose in your steps as you added a sway to your hips, drawing the attention of many of the tavern goers.

You had just reached your room at the top of the stairs when a strong arm wrapped around your chest from behind, pushed you into the room and pressed you up against the wall, front first.

“They could have your head for saying such a thing,” Harwin murmured against your ear, his warm breath fanning against your skin. The closeness between you made your stomach flip in anticipation.

You could feel the firm bulge pressing through his pants against your lower back, knowing he was enjoying your antics as much as you were.

“Would you tell the King yourself?”

“Fuck,” he growled, “you really are a brat.”

Harwin stepped away to kick the door shut before his hands were on you again, this time hiking up your skirts and undoing his buckle.

“I can promise you, I’m just as good in battle as I am a lover,” he smiled, quickly pulling down his pants and taking his cock in his hand before running it through your damp folds, enjoying your whimpers and how wet you were for him.

“I don’t often enjoy the screams of war, but hearing you scream when I fuck you? There’s nothing like it.”

You swore you could come undone just from his word alone. With your palms against the wall, you moved your hips against him, relishing in the feeling of his girth teasing you but wanting more. Wanting him inside of you.

“Uh uh,” he grabbed your hair and roughly tugged your head back to stop you, making you cry out,

“Fuck!”

“Such a foul mouth,” he chuckled. “You have some manners to learn.”

“I thought you liked my manners,” you managed to grit out.

“Oh, I do.” Harwin smirked in between pressing kisses to your cheek and down your neck, his grip on your hair loosening as his kisses grew rougher, teeth grazing over the soft skin of your neck before he bit down and sucked a mark against it.

You sighed, content, your fingers reaching back to thread through his hair as he repeated the action. You enjoyed it when he marked you, just as much as he did. The feel of it, the sight when you looked in the mirror, the knowledge it was him.

“You want this?” He moved his hips forward to highlight his question, the head of his cock brushing your clit and you nodded with fervour.

“Yes. Please, Harwin.”

“Then get on your knees.”

You obliged and turned slowly, eyes holding his gaze as you lowered to your knees, mouth salivating at the sight of his cock waiting for you. He was blessed with both girth and length, plus the knowledge of how to use it so you would scream his name to the Gods.

Harwin pulled off his over shirt as you took his cock in your hands, slowly stroking him as you marvelled at the sight of his now naked body, his chest coated in dark wisps of hair.

"Enjoying the view from down there?" He smirked.

"Always," you told him before pressing your lips to the head of his cock, the taste of precum on your tongue as you gave him a small lick and teased your way down one side of his shaft while your hands massaged his balls.

You couldn't see his face just then, but he was looking at you with pure admiration and hunger, holding back on just fucking your mouth and having his way with you.

That could wait a little longer.

"I wonder," you hummed and pulled back for a moment, making Harwin frown. "Do the other men who serve the king have cocks made of gold?"

He took hold of your chin and tilted your head up so you met his gaze. There was a dark amusement in his eyes at the way you were baiting him.

"You don't want any other man," he answered.

You bit your lip. "Maybe not, but I wouldn't mind some gold."

He chuckled, using his free hand to take his cock and brush the head against your lips, urging you to open your mouth.

You were happy to, savouring the feel of his cock in your mouth as he slowly thrust back and forth, groaning at the sensation.

You braced your hands against his strong thighs as he picked up the pace, the head hitting the back of your throat as you moaned around him, your own arousal dripping between your thighs.

“Nothing to say now?” He said with a smirk and slightly ragged breath, gathering your hair out of your face and holding it in his grip, forcing you to look up at him, saliva dripping down your chin.

“Look at you, such a messy bitch for me. Anyone would think you’re just some common whore.”

You whined around him in response, making him growl.

"That's what you're good for, isn't it? Being my whore. You think any other man could make you come undone like I do? That they could make you scream?"

You wanted to submit, to tell him you only wanted him, that you would be anything he wanted you to be, but all you could do was whimper desperately around his cock.

"That's right. My good little whore," he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as you gagged around his shaft.

By the way he was losing all composure, you knew he was close. Gods know you could just come undone from seeing him reach pure bliss himself, from letting him use you like this.

You gasped for air when Harwin suddenly pulled your mouth off him, giving you a mere moment before he hauled you up and over his broad shoulder.

Your mind was in a momentary daze as he put you down on the bed and reached beneath your pillow, a flicker of silver passing your gaze as he pulled out the knife hidden beneath. The same knife he had given you for protection in the streets of silk.

You held your breath in anticipation, enamoured by the wide grin on his face as he straddled your lap and cut through the cloth of your dress, tossing the shredded material aside.

Part of you wanted to scold him for ruining yet another piece of clothing, but you were too worked up and needy from the whole ordeal to care enough.

Throwing the knife to the floor, he leaned down, grabbed your face and kissed you hard, all tongue and teeth, hot and all consuming- like he was feeding a feral hunger. A hunger for you.

The kiss ended almost as quickly as it started, making you mourn the loss. Before you could say anything, Harwin grabbed you by the hips and turned you on to your stomach.

He manoeuvred your body as he wished, your knees bent beneath you and bare ass up in the air as he stood at the foot of the bed, admiring you from behind.

You knew he would be able to see how wet you were for him, exposed like this. The anticipation of his next move had you pressing your thighs together in desperate need of some relief.

You jilted forward with a gasp when he swatted your ass before you felt his thick fingers run between your folds before gently rubbing at your clit, the bundle of nerves oh so sensitive.

"Fuck, you really are drenched," Harwin sounded prideful, continuing his teasing as you let your forehead drop to rest on your arm, lost in the bliss.

Your shallow breathing turned into a long moan when he eased two fingers inside of you and started moving them in and out with ease, given how wet you were ~ all because of him.

It took little time for you to cum, his skilled fingers seeking out your first release like it was a rehearsed dance. The man knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how to play your body to his tune. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

The knight gave you no time to recover from the pleasured haze, removing his fingers and sucking them clean before gripping your hips and entering you from behind. The full feeling as he stretched you was like no other, taking your breath away and reigniting a sure fire in your belly.

His grunts and groans were almost animalistic as he started moving his hips back and forth, the head of his cock reaching deeper than any other man could. You could barely understand your own voice as you chanted desperate pleas and moans for him, making Harwin chuckle darkly,

“Just a bitch in a heat and everyone here will know it. I want to hear you scream..”

Your cunt clenched around him in response, his next thrust rough and purposeful as he brought one his hands around your front to rub at your clit and the other to hold you down.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cried out, gripping onto the sheets hard enough to make your knuckles ache while Harwin continued to pound into you, the bed squeaking and smacking against the wall under the force.

Even without the added noise, you knew the moans and debauched sounds of his cock sinking into your dripping pussy and skin slapping against skin would be enough to give away what was going on upstairs in the tavern.

The multitude of pleasure rose through you like a storm, a scream of your lover's name left your lips as your eyes rolled back and you came hard. Harwin kept up his pace as your cunt pulsed around him, the feeling all consuming for the both of you.

It wasn’t long until his thrusts stuttered to a halt and he buried himself deep inside of you, cumming with a loud grunt.

Time seemed to slow as the bliss settled over you. You wished time would stop forever.

You let out a small whimper at the loss when Harwin removed himself, the remnants of your release running down your thighs before you felt the scruff of his beard scratch against your neck as he leant down to kiss the visible mark he’d left on your skin earlier, a gentle touch that had your heart leap in your chest.

Harwin moved to lie on his back beside you with a bright smile that matched yours as your eyes met.

“How do I compare, my love?” He asked.

You reached a hand to cup his face, still smiling. “Not bad, for a knight.”

#ser harwin strong #ser harwin strong x reader #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong smut #harwin strong #happynerdwrites

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inchidentally · 3 months

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It’s giving engineering student Oscar on the first day of his Motorsport internship!!!!!

(BFBFFBFBFB he's lucky he's so gd beautiful bc he rly said 'let me find the most boring backdrop I possibly ca--ooh is tha empty tarmac? perfect')

dj!escort!Lando is booked at MTC for a gig to unveil their new car and decides to scroll their socials while flying back from Vietnam w Martin. first he sees Oscar posing stiffly in the new odd shirtdress race suit and decides why not zoom in on it. who he at first thought was just some kid turns out to have a beautiful slim waist and mile long legs under the suit. pretty little hands too. oh and the face... is very good. defined jaw and cheekbones, cute nose, pretty brown eyes. the kind of soft hair you want to run your fingers through after sex. the mouth is more intriguing than he'd first thought. pretty pink lips and sort of pouty. would probably turn hot pink after being kissed for an hour. maybe even a blood red after blowing Lando in the-- damn. Lando has to adjust himself and close out the photos.

so maybe he spends the rest of the plane ride ignoring the rest of the guys by going to this Oscar Piastri's accounts. gets absolutely stuck on a picture he'd posted that day with a middle aged emoji and terrible photo composition. but god if the pretty face and mussed soft hair doesn't more than make up for it. he looks like he's had nothing but vanilla sex, safe amounts of alcohol and the only excitement in his life is driving F1 cars. which to be fair looks fucking amazing.

but Oscar deserves to get wild sometimes. deserves to get absolutely wrecked. because from what Lando can tell, the guy almost never takes time off unless its to visit his family Australia. if he's not racing then he's in the simulator or he's in meetings or training. and god, the body he has under those team issued clothes. lean and strong in the arms and legs and waist but surprisingly thick and curvy in the ass and pecs. Lando can picture all that pale skin stretched out on his hotel bed, turning pink wherever Lando's big tan hands grope him. how embarrassed he'd get when Lando squeezes an entire pec in his hands and draws a nipple into his mouth. the cute way he'd flush up and probably throw a hand over his eyes when Lando slung each of the boy's knees over his shoulders and gave him a perineum beard burn he'd feel for days.

Lando startles when one of the road crew knocks over an entire bottle of champagne. by the time he looks back at the awkwardly smiling photo of Oscar out in wherever the hell he was, doing testing or whatever, Lando feels almost ashamed about what he has planned for this nerdy kid who clearly has no idea how hot he is.

but when he finally meets Oscar in person and realizes the boy has at least three inches height on him - most of which seems to run in his legs - Lando gives him a sharktooth grin, a thorough once over that has the boy blushing pink, and ignores everything the weird American dude is saying to him.

#inchreplies #momsforfishsticks #lola alert #my fic #(It's not fic obv but filing it there)#ohhhhhhh you made me do this !!! you can't just send me these things and not expect this !!#my writing

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

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♥️ Fezco Masterlist 2 ♥️

This is strictly my Fezco Masterlist.

Before requesting, take a look at my Masterpost to gain more insight into my DNI and requesting guideline lists. Take a look at my Prompt List for some ideas regarding request too!

This is where you'll find all of my Fezco blurbs since this list is too long to add into the regular Masterlists.

So Soft:

Summary/Request: “Short little fez blurb about cuddling and the fact that I guarantee hes touch starved.”

Tricks:

Summary/Request: “lil thing where Even tho Fez smokes, he can’t do any smoke tricks n y/n shows him how do to O’s, ghosts etc”

Jealousy:

Summary/Request: “Can you please do a blurb where Fez gets jealous because someone is hitting on his girl right in front of him”

Artist:

Summary/Request: “Could you pls do Fez x reader where the reader draws him whenever she’s bored and one day she leaves the sketchbook on the table.”

Debt Owed:

Summary/Request: “Omg what about this reader sees Ashtray bleeding or something then she helps him and he leads her to fez and says “she’s cool and I owe her one” or something like that.”

Embroidered:

Summary/Request: “The reader has a secret gift for her man, something that she knows will make his head spin.”

State Lines:

Summary/Request: “Fezco goes on his first trip with the reader, except he’s never been on a plane before and is a bit nervous.”

Playful Pleasure:

Summary/Request: “Fezco gets a call in the middle of a very intimate moment with his girlfriend. She’s disappointed that he answers it so she makes it a bit hard for him to stay focused.”

Innocence:

Summary/Request: “smutty blurb w fez where reader is innocent and doesn’t know what to do:)”

Vivid Image:

Summary/Request: “elliot or fez fluff after reader wakes up from a nightmare??”

Be Quiet:

Summary/Request: “reader x fez where he has his hand covering her mouth while they fuck so they dont wake up ash”

Engraved:

Summary/Request: “i remember how reader got underwear w fezs name on it and he flipped i wonder what he would say if she got a tattoo of his name”

Sinful:

Summary/Request: “soft dom fezco x reader smut PLEASE I AM BEGGING.”

Intimidation:

Summary/Request: “Fez meeting reader n she’s the first girl to realllyyy tell him off m stand up to him. I can imagine classic “shut the fuck up-“ angry kisses and sex”

Mini Us:

Summary/Request: “Maybe Fezco with a breeding kink and cockwarming?”

Pillow Talk:

Summary/Request: “could you write something like some pillow talk with fez where you talk about the future like having kids, marrying, a life after drug dealing etc”

Stewing:

Summary/Request: “Comforting fez after a long day?”

Stand By Me:

Summary/Request: “how bout fez slow dancing with the reader to ‘stand by me’?”

Rager:

Summary/Request: “sex with fez at a party? (established relationships)”

Over In Five:

Summary/Request: “I’ve just read the “Elliott x reader dirty talk over the phone” and I was thinking why don’t write something like that but with fez?”

Let Me In:

Summary/Request: “'open the door’ prompt but this time with reader and fezco?”

Control:

Summary/Request: “Could you do a one shot with fez where the reader gets vibrating panties and gives him the remote?”

Squirt:

Summary/Request: “A smutty blurb with fez where he makes the reader squirt for the first time”

Big Baby:

Summary/Request: “Omg could you pls do a fez blurb where we ask to wax his legs and he’s like being a total baby while we’re doing it!!”

I Got You:

Summary/Request: “Stripper reader dating fez and he sees a customer harassing her”

First Time:

Summary/Request: “hey can i request a blurb where fez and reader are doing it for the first time?”

Facial Hair:

Summary/Request: “I had an idea that Y/N would be very sad when Fez made the decision to shave off his beard. She would literally ask if he would please let her take a picture of him before he shaves because he knows she will miss seeing him like this. It’s like an environment of pure fluff and teasing.”

Proposal:

Summary/Request: “fez proposing and being all lowkey and relaxed like at home and the reader being super excited”

Bruises and Bandaids:

Summary/Request: “I’d love to see a story of Fez getting hurt and reader taking care of him ❤️ just angst and fluff!!”

Breasts are Best:

Summary/Request: “❣️Fez. Titty fuck. That’s it. ❣️”

Tainted Seats:

Summary/Request: “Hii, can you write a story about “car sex” with fez?”

Shy:

Summary/Request: “fez confessing his feelings to the reader and he being all shy about it 🥲”

The Question:

Summary/Request: “fez proposing and being all lowkey and relaxed like at home and the reader being super excited”

Steam:

Summary/Request: “Steamy shower sex for fezco x reader? <33”

Trapped:

Summary/Request: “hi lovey, can you do a smut where you let Fez go without a condom for the first time?”

Aftermath:

Summary/Request: “Please do a realistic imagine based on the aftermath of the finale😭 no one is writing about it!!! I need the reader to be there for fez and comforting him!! I beg you!!!”

Wedding Bells:

Summary/Request: “Ok so I have an idea about a fez smut lol, like it’s fez and the readers wedding day and they’re really happy to start this new chapter in their lives together but everyone keeping pulling them aside and they don’t really get to see each other as much as they want and idk maybe ash or rue notices this and creates some kind of distraction and fez takes advantage of that and pulls the reader into a bathroom stall”

Yoga:

Summary/Request: “Fez and reader doing yoga together. Like she does yoga and stretching around the house and she gets him to try with her and eventually starts making ash do it with her. Maybe fez walks in one day with her and ash doing it in the living room”

Snacks:

Summary/Request: “the night cal showed up to the store and fez stayed up all night with the gun, him and reader are together and she stays up all night with him even though he insists but she won’t leave him alone all night. he’s stressed all night but she’s there to take care of him”

Nerd:

Summary/Request: “May I please request a Fezco x reader where his gf is a huge Star Wars nerd? (Specifically like prequel era/Clone Wars)”

Aftercare:

Summary/Request: “Hi! I was wondering if you could write about aftercare with fez and make it all fluff? If not it’s totally okay!”

Mobility Aids:

Summary/Request: “Imagine Fez is dating someone with a disability/medical condition where they need help moving around or they walk slow and Fez/Ashtray are both protective over her since she needs help, especially in public or with a lot of people around her”

Concussed:

Summary/Request: “can i request an fezco x reader & ash x platonic!reader where the reader hits their head and gets a pretty bad concussion and hides it from the boys and then the reader pass out in front of them?”

Family Decisions:

Summary/Request: “Can you do A blurb with fezco and the reader and it’s an angst but then they make up?”

No Reason to Freak:

Summary/Request: “Can you write a Fezco blurb where the reader comes out as being Bi to him.”

Be Discrete:

Summary/Request: “Fezco angst x100000. I just need to be in my sad and angry element atm lol”

Trust:

Summary/Request: “prompts: good girl, that’s it. spread your legs. eyes on me. i can’t seem to get enough of you. do you know how you make me feel? right there that’s it.”

Blocked:

Summary/Request: “Fezco fic where reader and him are trying to spend “time” together and everyone keeps cockblocking?”

The Play:

Summary/Request: “Can you do a fez x reader where lexi put a fez and reader bit in her play I will just want to now what that would be. "It the only couple that made me believe in love” said lexi"

Words:

Summary/Request: “fezco, Friends with benefits, soft dom if ya can :) “Use your words” and “did I stutter?””

Matching:

Summary/Request: “SUGAR DADDY SUGAR BABY FEZCO”

Drunk and High Enough:

Summary/Request: “Fezco, 21 💕💕”

Invitation:

Summary/Request: “Can you please do a fezco x shy reader. I don’t really care about the plot of the story I just love this trope :)”

Faking It:

Summary/Request: "Wondering if you would write something about faking an O"

Impatient:

Summary/Request: "Teasy Fezco with a lil smut mayhaps and also the line “are you blushing?”"

Cool It:

Summary/Request: "6 + 7 for Nate or fez!! ❤️"

Sunshine:

Summary/Request: "i was wondering if you could write smth like fezco x sunshine reader who has a rlly close platonic bond with ash and they’re both v protective of her"

Bathroom Counter:

Summary/Request: "new yrs sex w fez after he beat nate's ass<3"

Take a Breather:

Summary/Request: "Can you write a blurb with him with the prompts 8. 'I really don’t like you.’ - 'And I really don’t believe you.’ and 15. 'How does that feel?’"

Dangerous Woman:

Summary/Request: "I really loved loved loved loved loved your Dangerous Woman fic (I miss when Euphoria was so hyped) so I wanted to request a Fezco x dealer!reader?"

Rabbits:

Summary/Request: "i live for the fez x reader x (platonic) ash. i love when ash and reader banter and tease eachother 😭"

Uncle:

Summary/Request: "PLS MORE FEZ X READER X ASH(PLATONIC) THEY ARE SOOOO CUTE"

Spoiled:

Summary/Request: "'Can I get a reader who insists she doesn’t need a lot for valentines x Imma spoil the shit outta you just you wait Fezco?!'"

Thick Thighs:

Summary/Request: "Can I request Fezco x reader? Maybe she have big thighs?"

#fezco #fezco x reader #fezco euphoria #fezco euphoria x reader #euphoria hbo #euphoria fic

360 notes · View notes

lale-txt · 2 years

Text

Raffle Prize: Undercover w/ Law & fem!reader

a/n: 1st prize of my raffle with @mamma-marimo being the lucky winner!! congrats again, my dearest. she requested:

An idea I had in mind is maybe Law and an F!reader (can be Gn if you prefer) are at some sort of costume party or are undercover where they have to go together as partners so it creates that sort of sexual tension with lots of stolen glances? It’s totally up to you of course so feel free to go wild and do what you’d like! I’ll also happily leave it up to you to decide either it’s sfw or nsfw :)

i was SO excited to write for this because the prompt was so fun and it's been a while since i wrote Law. also what can i say? when you said "feel free to go wild", i did and now it's a whole lot longer than the promised 1.5k (￣▽￣*)ゞ i don't think you mind though. hope you enjoy this piece, i had fun writing this!

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns used but terms like "girl" and "queen", reader wears a dress, mention of lace underwear, "cunt" used to describe gentials), ns.fw under the cut, dirty talk, vaginal penetration, breath play, handjobs (reader giving & receiving), oral (reader receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex (no breeding or pregnancy implied), exhibitionism (they're not being caught though), hints of misuse of devil fruit at the very end but nothing descriptive. please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.3k

“So, what do we look like?”

You do a little twirl in your dress, letting the feather coat slip slightly off your shoulders as you strut up and down the lounge in your heels, the half veil covering your nose and mouth fluttering slightly. Law leaned in the door frame behind you, also dressed up from head to toe, wearing his finest suit and a feather coat matching yours and a fake beard you couldn’t talk him out of. Both of you went extra on the golden accessories, including two small crowns, making you king and queen. You also spent a whole hour on your makeup, trying to draw the perfect winged eyeliner until Law lent you the steady hand of a surgeon, mastering it at his very first try. Needless to say that the way he tilted your head in his hands and his golden eyes lingering on you made your heart drum in your chest…

Bepo was on the edge of his seat, holding up his imaginary 10 points sign, his eyes sparkling. Shachi and Penguin didn’t seem to be very impressed, sitting cross legged on the sofa, chins resting on their palms, their eyes following you across the room.

“Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, showstopper, spectacular–” “Hilarious.” “Party theme must be ‘bird farm’.” “You look rich but in a ‘killed my rich ex-husband because he didn’t pay alimonies’ way.” “Starting a petition to get rid of our overalls and get whatever you two have going on here.”

Your captain shuts them all up with a little tsk, taking a step forward so he stands next to you, your shoulders almost touching. As he was twirling his fake beard between his fingers, you noticed there was a determined sparkle in his eyes; you could tell he was excited about the upcoming mission. Your heart skips another beat when your glances meet and he gives you a slight smile – thankfully half of your face was veiled, hiding your blushing cheeks.

“We’ll get that treasure map in no time and will be far gone already when they notice they’ve been robbed. Right, y/n-ya?”

Right. In a room full of high-ranking marines hosting a costume ball, what could go wrong for two wanted pirates, one of them head over heels in love with their captain? Still, you slap hands with him in agreement which is when you notice a detail both of you have overlooked.

“We still need some gloves for you, Law.” Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, tracing the tattoo of his jolly roger and the letters spelling out DEATH. “Can’t risk someone recognizing you by those.”

Bepo rushes off to get him some gloves while Law’s hand lingers a second too long in yours for it to be an accident, hesitant when he pulls back to smoothen down his suit, coughing slightly. Suddenly your own coat is very interesting, your fingers playing with the hem of it to keep them occupied as if they weren’t tingling from being skin on skin with your captain a few seconds ago.

After discussing the plan one more time (infiltrate the castle where the ball is held, find out which room they keep the treasure map, steal it, run off, success), you’re all settled and Law gives the command to emerge the Polar Tang.

“Nervous?” He glances over to you, waiting to open the door for you both to step out into the night. You take a deep breath in. “About a few marines? Never.”, you laugh, checking yourself out one last time in a tiny pocket mirror. Marines didn’t scare you. Pretending to be a couple with Law as if you weren’t thinking day in, day out, about what his lips would feel like on yours? Yeah, about that… “Good. I’ll watch out for you anyway. You’re safe with me.” Law smirks as he adjusts your crown, leaning down so you could fix his, too.

It was a rare sight, him without his signature hat, and you quite enjoyed it. Usually the only times you would see him without it were when he came out of the bathroom late at night, a towel draped around his neck and you would be quick to lower your gaze, trying not to check him out but of course you did anyway – and he knew. He’d mumble your name and you’d stutter out his as you passed each other in the hallway; you peeking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his broad back, him turning around before he entered his captain quarters, watching you tiptoe around the corner.

You roll your shoulders before you step out into the warm summer night, waving your comrades goodbye before Law uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you both to the shore where your act begins. He holds out his arms for you to link with his and both of you slide effortlessly into the crowd walking towards the brightly lit castle. Despite their costumes you recognize some familiar admirals and for a moment you get nervous, asking yourself if you’re both disguised well enough which is when Law puts his hand on yours, calming you down. He must have noticed your grip tightening around his arm. You exchange quick glances and somehow it’s enough to reassure you that you got this; that you’ll walk out of this together whole and will sail many, many more seas together.

If it wasn’t for all the marines around you, walking up the stairs with Law would feel like a fairy tale coming to life. You did feel very rich and elegant in your evening dress, even more flattered since Law was the one who picked it out when he prepared your mission. Usually he wasn’t the best at disguises but this time he really outdid himself and so far everything went smoothly. Everyone was so busy with themselves that you were barely drawing anybody’s attention, except when you were in the way at the buffet line.

Law and you had decided to wander around between the other guests for a while, trying to overhear conversations of a person bragging about some treasures hidden in this castle. Since the egos of the higher marines were bigger than life it was very likely you would be successful in no time – even though that would also mean that your couple mission would come to an end sooner than you wanted it to be, because admittedly, feeling him this close and acting like lovers felt like a dream coming true.

A live band is playing, guests are talking and laughing loudly, the atmosphere was very loose and lively; everyone here tonight came for a good time. You could see some whispering in secret behind their masquerades, glasses of champagne clinking together, people swaying on the dancefloor with hands wandering sinful places when they thought no one was watching. Meanwhile Law had put his arm around your waist as you wandered around, making sure the two of you didn’t get seperated in the crowd, but also to give you discreet tapping signals when something caught his attention.

Two taps and you search for his eyes, following them across the room to a group of important looking men huddled together. Another tap and you look over your shoulder, keeping an eye on what was going on behind you. For an outsider the two of you just looked like lovers, clinging to each other, exchanging glances and looking away shyly. You could feel your heart drumming in your chest, his tight grip on your hips making it hard for you to focus. Every now and then Law would lean down to you to whisper his observations in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making it extra hard to focus on anything he was saying. In fact, you started to feel dizzy from the noise, the stuffy air and your crush holding you in his arms. It was all a bit too much at once.

“You look like you could need some air, y/n-ya.”

Law looks at you slightly worried, using his teeth to take off one of his gloves despite you hissing at him not to – even though he looked very enticing doing so. He does it anyway, placing his hand in the back of your exposed neck to feel your temperature. Your eyes flutter wide open, startled from his bare skin on yours and a small gasp escapes your throat, only audible for Law. His golden eyes linger on you for a second and it feels as if he’s reading you like an open book; then he takes your hand without a word in his, guiding you across the room. He grabs a water bottle from the buffet as you’re passing it by and shortly after you step out through the huge open back doors into the garden.

The garden is as opulent as the castle but far quieter than the busy ball room, the music only muffled and only a few other people being outside, smoking, kissing, crying – some everything at once. Law doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both in the shadows of an old tree, hidden from the eyes of others. You pull down your veil and take a deep breath in relief, leaning against the trunk while your captain hands you the water after opening the bottle for you. He musters you up and down and you’re unable to hold his gaze, still flustered from earlier where his lips almost touched your ear and his whispered words set your insides on fire.

“What’s your diagnosis, doctor? Bad-nerves-syndrome?”, you ask jokingly between two sips, trying to gloss over the fact that your crush on him might be that oblivious. “Luckily we found a cure for that.”, Law smirks, loosening up a bit now that you’re back to your old self again. Without ever admitting it, he was really worried about you earlier, feeling slightly regretful about dragging you on a mission like that.

He leans next to you against the tree, your shoulders touching and you find yourself scooting slightly closer, the back of your hands brushing. You take another glimpse at him in the safety of the dimly lit garden, admiring his side profile. If only he would lean in for a…

You freeze when he turns his head, looking at you with a grin. Could he read minds? Was this a function of his devil fruit powers you didn’t know about? Wait, was he hearing all of these thoughts now, too?

“Change of plans, y/n-ya. We’re not going back in there.” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him quizzically. “We got a few clues about the whereabouts of the treasure map, let’s just search every room until we find it.”

And just like that Law takes your hand once again, guiding you deeper into the garden from where you got a good view of the whole building. His hands without the gloves on feel very warm, almost as if they were made for yours only, a perfect fit. Law pulls out a building plan and with all the clues you overheard during the evening you’re able to narrow down the vague whereabouts of the treasure map, giving you a dozen rooms in the upper stories to search. Just like two black cats the two of you blend in with night, sneaking inside the castle again, making your way through the crowd and into the long empty corridors.

You couldn’t let your guards down just yet. Chances were high that you weren’t the only ones snooping around, it was a marines party after all. Some poor subordinates of the higher ranks would possibly be guarding the door, if not even the whole wing. But still… with Law’s hand in yours nothing felt impossible. You find yourself staring at his back again as you walk behind him, thinking once again what was underneath his big coat as you recall him coming out of the shower. Focus, you command yourself, but granted, it was hard, his close presence making your heart drum so loud in your chest.

Just when you’re about to walk around a corner, Law gestures to you with his index finger pressed to his lips to stay quiet. You could think of another way of how he could shut you up, though…

A few more seconds pass and the voices in the distance are getting quieter again, your sign to start moving as you both steal yourselves into the very first room. The door locks behind you silently. No light was burning, only the bright moonlight flooding through the high-ceiling windows.

“What is this room?”, you whisper, following Law on tiptoes as he walks in the center of it. “Why would one person own this many mirrors and then all store them in one room only? Who needs their private mirror cabinet?”

You both looked around, there were dozens of mirrors in all shapes and sizes arranged across the room, most of them seemed to be very antique and have probably seen various decades of people dancing, crying and falling in love in front of them. And now it was you and him; his golden eyes watching you from every corner, his gaze soft, lovingly almost. Somehow you felt exposed, as if he cut your heart out of your chest and inspected it from every angle, his name written all over it.

His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer when he stands behind you, his hands slipping the feather coat off your shoulders, revealing the tattooed jolly roger on your back. You remembered the day you got the tattoo, how he cornered you in the morning, asking you if you were really sure about this and how you took his face in your hands and just nodded, your stern eyes leaving no room for doubt. Just like the ink under your skin the feelings for him wouldn’t go anywhere and if you couldn’t love him as a lover, you would love him as your captain, devoting everything you had to him, just to be by his side till the very end.

When he kisses the side of your neck, lips trailing down your shoulders, you hold your breath. If this was a dream, you never wished to never wake up from it. Your coat falls down to the floor with a thud, one of Law’s hands around your neck, tilting your head slightly to give him better access to your exposed skin, while his other hand brushes over your arm, giving you shivers. Every inch his lips touch feels like it’s burning, his breath hot on your skin. Thousand kisses plaster your skin through the mirrors, thousand hands wander over your body, thousand hearts drumming in your chest.

“Forgive me, y/n-ya…”, Law mumbles in the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You sink into his hug, watching your figures through the mirrors; a king and a queen dipped in moonlight, love and desire painting their faces.

“Forgive you for what?” Your voice is merely a whisper. It’s when your eyes meet through the reflections of the mirrors that you know.

Forgive me for falling for you.

You turn around on tiptoes without leaving his embrace, your faces almost touching. Law’s eyelids flutter when you take his face into your hands, just like you did back then, his skin feeling soft and warm under your fingertips. Both of you knew what was about to happen. It was the crescendo of an intense night, almost as if it had been written in the stars for a very long time before this moment, only the moon and a thousand reflections being your witnesses.

Your lips find his and you melt into a deep kiss, one that spoke louder than any words could ever have; it’s as if your whole body just sighs in relief, all the tension from before falling off your shoulders and being replaced with an unknown warmth, with the feeling of coming home, with hunger.

Law has one hand buried in your hair, your bodies pressed together, neither of you daring to pull away. When he gives your hair a slight pull, a hoarse moan escapes your throat, making him chuckle softly before he kisses you again, his tongue slipping in your mouth. Whenever you opened your eyes a bit you could see your sinful reflection, your flushed cheeks, your eyes full of lust, your fingernails digging into his back when he pushes his leg between your thighs for you to grind on it.

You gasp when Law lifts you up with ease and carries you over to a dresser where he sits you down, pushing your legs wide open and you surrender, pulling your dress further up to reveal your soaked panties. He doesn’t touch you, but his eyes alone eat you up from every mirror.

“Such a naughty girl. How long have you been this wet for me?” His hands brush over your knees, fingertips drawing small circles on the inside of your thighs. “Since I took off your coat? Or in the garden already?”

You whine softly when his grip around your thighs tighten, just as the knot in your stomach does, a familiar feeling begging for sweet release. Your head was spinning but you loved this; the way he ate you up with his gaze alone and the outlines of his cock throbbing in his pants, getting harder with every inch he explored of your body. You buck your hips against his touch, biting your lip when he firmly holds you in place, his strength out of this world.

“Those desperate mewls coming from your cabin late at night… Are you thinking about me when you hump your pillow?”, he asks with a smirk, leaning over to kiss you hard once more, a thin thread of drool connecting you both when he pulls away.

You grin as you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down towards his waistband where your fingers linger for a few heartbeats, just like his hands do dangerously close to your dripping wet core.

“I sure do. Do you think of me too when you use my worn panties to masturbate?” Law’s eyes widened for a second. “It’s not like I leave them in the bath by accident when I know you’re going in there after me...”

And just like that Law leans in for another kiss, his lips clashing on yours as he takes your hand and places it on the fat bulge in his pants, grinding it against your palm. At the same time his other hand cups the aching arousal between your thighs, a hum escaping his throat when he finally feels how dripping wet you are for him, rubbing your cunt over the soaked fabric. Tiny shock waves shoot through your body when he starts circling your clit with his thumb, the tease almost being unbearable.

Even though you wished this high would last forever, you were getting impatient, craving to feel him inside of you, to become one with him. You hastily unzip his pants, wasting no time when you slide them off his hips and watch his hard length bounce free, precum leaking from its tip. You couldn’t wait to be fucked into higher spheres by him. But first…

You slide to the edge of the dresser, lifting your hips to pull off your panties, black lace drenched in your juices. With your legs still spread, revealing your throbbing core, you pull Law in for another kiss, his golden eyes watching every single movement of yours. His soft moans fall broken out of his mouth when you wrap his cock in your panties, rubbing his tip through the lace, stroking him slowly but with a firm grip.

“Is this how you do it when you’re alone?” You smile against his lips, enjoying how he melted under your touch, his breaths sharp. He nods slowly, seeking your gaze while you continue to squeeze him, speeding up the tempo of your pumps, your fingers brushing his pubic hair whenever your fist strokes down his whole length. You could tell he was about to cum any second, a king on the edge of his own universe; his cum spluttering over the lace and your hands like the milky way. Law leans against your shoulder, breathing heavily when you give his cock a few more slow pumps.

“Oh my, so messy…”

Almost as if he was in for revenge his fingers touch your folds, spreading them wide open before they dip inside of you, making you moan quietly into his ear. You let go of your soaked panties, dropping them carelessly to the ground so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep kiss. While he fingers you slowly, taking his time to explore you from the inside, you whisper his name over and over and it sounds like a confession, a broken record.

“More…”, you whine and gasp when he adds a third finger, curling them up slightly and rubbing your g-spot so delicately it makes you want to cum on the spot. Instead you dig your nails deeper into his shoulders, leaning your head in the back of your neck, offering him all of you with your legs spread wide open. He kisses down your jaw and your neck, his tongue swirling over your skin, making you wish he would get on his knees for you. He will, eventually…

It’s when he wraps his other hand around your neck, waiting for you to nod slowly in agreement and then chokes you softly, that your orgasm rushes over you with an unknown intensity; your walls clenching hard around his fingers and tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as you laugh out loud, surprised by how fast the waves crashed down over you. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he fingerfucks you through your high, making you cry and chuckle at the same time until your legs slowly stop trembling and you catch your breath again.

Law lets go of your throat and wipes away your tears, kissing your face before he licks your juices off his fingers with delight, grinning when you take his hand and pull it towards you, your tongue swirling around his fingers. He was hard again, his cock rubbing teasingly between your folds, your hot core aching for him. It still felt very much like a fever dream and you weren’t planning to wake up anytime soon. You slide off the dresser, your bodies pressed against each other. With a hand on his chest you’re pushing him back down gently, making him sit where your coat fell to the floor earlier, then you crawl into his lap, your dress still pulled up to your hips as you start grinding on his hard length.

Soft moans of yours fall into his open mouth, your foreheads pressed against each other as you exchange more deep glances, just like you did hours before; all leading to this moment. You feel like you could get drunk in his eyes, the brown speckle in his gold, your very own sun, soaking you up. You can feel his tip rubbing at your core, asking you for permission with his eyes.

“It’s fine, it’s safe”, you mumble and smile when Law grabs you by your hips, guiding you down slowly onto his cock. His fingers were nothing compared to the sensation of him stretching your tight entrance open little by little; you’re both taking your time, breathing heavily between a dozen kisses until you’ve taken him all in, thankful you were sitting down or else your legs would have probably given in from the intense feeling of him filling you up. Then he starts moving and through the mirrors you can see him fucking you from every angle, his cock thrusting relentlessly inside of you.

Being on top gives you the upper hand, commanding the tempo you’re bouncing up and down him, supported by his hands digging into the flesh of your ass. You’ve dreamt about this moment countless times and nothing could have prepared you for how amazing it felt becoming one with the one you loved the most. When Law starts circling your nipples with his tongue over the thin fabric of your dress, you can feel another orgasm building up inside of you, his stern gaze on you making you feel feral. You slide down the straps of your dress, letting him greedily pull it down so he can suck on your nippels in all their glory, his tongue fluttering over them, making them stand up under his touch.

Just when you were about to wail out Law’s name as you fell apart under his cock, you could hear footsteps and voices from the other side of the door. Fear shoots through your veins and it only takes a quick glance between Law and you for him to know what to do. The massive door gets pushed open the same second he uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you into the darkest corner of the room, where no moonlight touched the ground and massive mirrors blocked the view. Heavy boots step into the room, flashlights being pointed at the mirrors and sending beams of light against every wall.

Your captain is covering your mouth with one hand, his cock still buried deep inside of you, in the same position you were before he used his abilities to escape the marine guards doing their inspection round. It were at least three of them, discussing if they heard voices coming from inside and joking about how useless this room was, that only fucking in front of the mirrors would give it a real purpose. Your heart was beating heavy in your chest, the adrenaline rush making your head feel dizzy. You can’t make out Law’s face in the dark but you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, even more than before. Without thinking you start moving your hips again, slowly, the risk of getting caught fucking making you so dripping wet, your juices running down the insides of your thighs.

Law was holding his breath, unable to resist your greedy movements and he bites down your neck, trying to muffle his own moans. When you hear the footsteps coming closer in your direction, your walls clench hard around his cock, more tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as Law still holds your mouth shut, your drool dripping down his fingers. The thought of getting caught, of being exposed like that, almost pushed you over the edge of another orgasm, your fingers drawing circles on your plump clit, unable to stop. You can hear Law hissing out your name for your ears only as your tight walls contract around him erratically.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps wander off again, the marines talking about ghosts in this old building and how you could hear voices often, and then the door shuts closed behind them again, leaving the two of you alone again. Law and you hold still for a few heartbeats, then something snaps just in both of you. Your voice is hoarse when you whimper his name while he flips you on your back, forcing your legs wide apart as he keeps thrusting inside of you so hard and relentlessly, making your eyes roll in the back of your head. His hand slid down from your mouth to your throat again, choking you softly while he was seeking the warmth of your cunt, burying himself so deep inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

“Maybe I should have fucked you right away in that ball room, since you seem to enjoy an audience so much…”, Law huffs and laughs softly when you squeeze him tight in return, the thought alone making your head spin. “Showing everyone how well your greedy cunt can take my cock, you like that?”

You nod as you bite your lip, putting your hand on his to signal him to choke you harder until you could see tiny stars dancing in front of your eyes, and then there’s a whole universe erupting inside of you as you come undone, an orgasm like you never had before ripping through your body, sending shooting stars through every vein. You hear Law cursing as he pounds inside of you a few more times before he also cums with his whole body trembling, shooting his thick load inside of you. He lets go of your throat and leans down to kiss you hard as both of you still shake from your climax, your bodies tangled up. With your legs wrapped around his hips you ask him to stay like this a little longer, exchanging soft kisses as if he didn’t just rail you into another sphere. You smile when he brushes your hair out of your face, looking at you with kind eyes, so full of love.

You hum when you can feel his warm load running down your thighs, leaving a small puddle where you just laid. Law helps you stand up, your legs still a bit shaky from the adrenaline and your orgasms and you’re grateful for Law wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You rest your face against his chest, hearing his heart drum in his chest, a sound so soothing you can’t help but close your eyes. Until you remember–

“Shit! Law! The treasure map!”

Damn. All those horny thoughts have completely blocked out your mission, the one and only why you came here in the first place. How many more rooms did you have to search? And would he possibly go down on you in one of them? Would he fill up your other holes, too? Focus, you gotta focus… Law chuckles, looking at you with a triumphant smile. He reaches for the inner pocket of his coat, ruffling around for dramatic effect and pulls out a rolled piece of old paper, wrapped with a red seal. Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re at loss for words. When? How…?

“One of those marine dogs from earlier had it in his pocket. Guess they didn’t think someone with my devil fruit powers would show up and just switch it out with a candy wrapper.”

“You… you did all of that while fucking me? Balls deep inside of me?”, you ask flabbergasted, trying to comprehend what you just learned. Law nods and laughs when you grab him by his collar, letting you pull him into another kiss. “You’re so hot and clever, attaboy…”

In the end making it out of the castle was much harder than sneaking in – Law and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other; you went for another round in front of the mirrors with your legs in the air as he ate you out like a starved man, his tongue dipping inside of you from every reflection and you explored another room together that had chains hanging from it’s ceiling and in the very end Law made his promise of fucking you in the ballroom in front of everyone true in his own way, with a little help of his devil fruit powers… both of you walking out of the castle, your crowns askew and with love bites everywhere, his cum dripping out of you with your panties still in the mirror room, hand in hand, king and queen.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece reader insert #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #trafalgar d. water law #lale 1.5k raffle #purethoughts.exe has stopped working

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sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months

Text

Fall Drabbles, Day 9

prompt: cold air in the morning

pairing: Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader

summary: After dealing with his family for far too long, Michael is happy to let you care for him.

warnings: Swearing, fluff

a/n: AHHHH this is my first time writing for Mikey so please let me know what you think! This piece is dedicated to @chvoswxtch, my Kin watch buddy! And a huge thank you to @bellaxgiornata for the advice on writing his accent!

w/c: <1k

Trudging up the street in the dim light, Michael grit his teeth against the weariness growing with each step–exhaustion sitting atop his shoulders like a barbell, slowly driving him into the pavement. A stiff breeze battered his cheeks, irritating his already gritty eyes, but he ignored it. He was no stranger to the numbing cold, and its unmatched ability to clear his head of racing thoughts, but he didn’t welcome it today. Rather than anchoring him, it rubbed at his nerves uncomfortably, leaving an almost acidic sting in its wake.

His breaths were measured, but the tension in his lungs loosened marginally when the familiar structure finally appeared on the horizon. Willing his aching body to move faster, he focused on the dull red of his front door, a shining beacon in the dreary gray morning that promised rest and safety. He was running on fumes, his brain unable to process more than the stench of petrichor in the air and the burning in his lungs.

Though it couldn’t have been more than a five minute trek, the walk felt like an eternity. Fitting the key into the lock sapped all of his remaining strength and he slumped backwards against the door, shutting it more forcefully than intended. Stifling a grimace at the noise, he swallowed hard as he plodded over to the dining room table and collapsed into a chair–his body folding in on itself until he could hold his pounding head between his palms. Every contraction of his heart sent another pound of pressure to his skull, slowly expanding like a balloon about to pop. He was tired and frustrated and hungry and alone and it was all quickly becoming too much.

A creaking floorboard above him startled him out of his stupor. Tensing his legs to dart for his gun, which he’d stupidly left by the door, your voice called down the stairs. “Mikey?”

The question was soft, barely loud enough for him to hear downstairs, and your voice was raspy with sleep–but it sent a current of warmth through his senseless limbs. “Ya, pet. It’s me.” His own voice was hoarse after his restless days spent screaming about the family business.

Padding down the stairs, you smiled when you saw him, dashing right into his open arms and giggling drowsily as he pulled you into his lap. You pressed your lips to his, sending a jolt of energy through him like an exposed wire. He couldn’t fathom why you looked so happy to kiss his noticeably chapped lips, but your sweet smile was melting the icy shell of prolonged displeasure around his gut. “I’m sorry to wake ya. What’re ya doin’ here, love?”

You shrugged, eyes flitting over the myriad of cuts on his face as one of your hands carded through his hair, tenderly untangling the strands. “My place was too quiet so I came here. Did you want me to leave?”

Michael’s hands instinctively clenched, tightening their grip on your waist. “Fuck no.”

Chuckling, you leaned your forehead against his. “How was it?”

“Grand.” He scoffed, averting his eyes as you stroked a thumb over his beard. “Tirin’.”

You hummed, plush lips tilting into a frown. “I’m sorry, love. Did you sleep at all?”

“A bit. Not enough.” Your free hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, icy fingers drawing circles on his stomach. “Christ, yer so cold, pet.” He laughed as you wriggled your other hand up his bare skin as well.

“Come back to bed with me? It’s chilly without you.” Wrapping your arms around him, you nuzzled a kiss against his prickly jawline.

Nodding sluggishly, he gladly let you tug him out of the chair and up the stairs—more than willing to sleep the day away with you.

#michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #mikey kinsella #kin amc #kin #kin rte #charlie cox #mk #my writing #fall prompts 2023

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theowritesstuff · 2 years

Note

HELLO coming in here to request “is that a drawing of me?” + “i’ve dreamt about this.” w artist!reader and jamie tartt👀

No Notes

Jamie Tartt x gn!reader

A/N: This request kicked my ass, I hope I did it well, and I’m sorry it took so long!

General Taglist: @nptnewr @violetrainbow412-blog

You sighed as you scribbled your notes down. Ted had asked you to jot down notes at training today, saying something about having a fresh pair of eyes on the team. You watched from about 10 rows up on the bleachers as the guys did drills, practiced trick plays, and split up for a practice game.

Ted’s whistle startled you, ringing through the air. He pulled Jamie, much to his dismay, off the pitch. He huffed, then sat down on the first row of the bleachers. He watched everyone else practice, his foot tapping the ground as he anxiously awaited being put back in the game.

You continued writing down everything you saw, until you saw Jamie moving out of the corner of your eye. He turned so that he was straddling the bench. He took his water bottle, and lifted it to his lips. His head tilted back as he drank, causing the sun to cast a warm glow on his features.

Once he was finished drinking his eyes glanced over at you. Yours quickly moved back down to the notebook in front of you. You wrote down a few more notes before sneaking another look at Jamie.

He was still straddling the bench, giving you a nice view of his profile, but was now looking down at his phone. He must’ve snuck it onto the field. Your eyes traveled back to the game, watching the ball go back and forth on the field. It felt never ending.

Both Ted and Beard were watching practice of course. And surely your two pages of notes would be enough to help them, right? Your hand slowly turned to a fresh page in the book.

You started out with drawing some random shapes, a circle here, a line there, it wasn’t until you had an outline that you realized you were drawing a face, and a very specific face at that. You could recognize the lines that made up the strong jawline and cheekbones anywhere.

You started to add more, detailing his impossibly round eyes, his always pouty lips. You were adding shadows to his face when you saw something move in front of you in your peripheral vision. You shut the notebook closed and looked up to see Jamie sitting on the bench in front of you. His knees were up to his chest as he was sitting backwards.

“Got any notes about me?” He asked. His hand reached out to take the notebook from you. You pulled the notebook further from him, holding it firmly against your chest.

“Nope. No notes about you.” You say, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“Well, I am basically the star player.” He smirks and shrugs, earning a small laugh from you. “What did you write about the others? Something about Sam? Dani? Colin?” He reaches for the notebook again.

“Nothing that concerns you.” You stick your chin up at him, looking back at the field.

“Come on.” He says. This time his hand actually brushes against the book.

You pull away, to which he pushes forward. He just keeps reaching for it, completely ignoring your protests. You keep trying to pull further and further back from him, but he just keeps getting closer and closer to taking your notebook.

He lurches forward to grab it, causing you to fall backwards off your bench. You kick his shin as he’s leaning forward, making him fall too.

He’s laughing, his body on top of yours, the notebook sitting between your chest and his.

He looks down at the flustered expression on your face, and he can’t help but say “I’ve dreamt about this.” with a proud grin on his face.

You scoff, and roughly push him off you. You dust yourself off, and when you look back up at him, he’s looking through the notebook.

You watch in horror as his face contorts in confusion. He holds the notebook up facing you.

“Is that a drawing of me?” He asks.

You rack your brain trying to find a reasonable answer as to why you’ve drawn the footballer sitting before you, but you can’t find one.

Your mouth opens and closes, as if you’re trying to say something, but the words won’t come out.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to come of as weird. I was just so bored, and you were sitting there, the perfect model-”

“Perfect model?” He smirks.

You can feel warmth spread across your face. Jamie laughs, and turns the drawing back to himself. He takes a few moments to look at it before he speaks up again.

“It’s really good. It looks just like me.” He says with a smile. “Can I have it?”

His question surprises you. You didn’t think he would like that you’d just randomly decided to draw him, much less ask if he could keep it.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” You say.

“Jamie!” Ted calls from the pitch. He waves him over, beckoning him back on the pitch.

Jamie hands the notebook back to you.

“Why don’t you hold onto that for now. I’ll get it from you when we eat lunch together. Today.” He winks at you, then makes his way back down to the field.

If you had known that this is what you would get for drawing Jamie Tartt, you would’ve painted murals of him ages ago.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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unreadpoppy · 5 months

Text

The Runaway Bride

Raphael x OC (Gwendolyn Gray)

Summary: After accepting Raphael's proposal, it is finally time for the wedding. But what will happen when Gwendolyn starts to doubt herself?

This is the part two/continuation of Betrayer, so go read that first.

A/N: these two are definetly a couple i would come back to in the future, if anyone were interested. Anyways, have fun reading it!

I'm tagging @fiendish-appreciation because you liked the first part and showed interest in this so idk i thought i should tag you. Anyways, to the fic.

Read on AO3

If there was one thing Gwendolyn had dreamed of since she was a child, it was of having a big wedding ceremony. Like the ones she read about in books or the fairy tales her mother used to tell her before bed.

She used to fantasize about where she wanted it to happen, who would be present, and she’d even draw what she wanted the dress to look like.

Of course, things didn’t exactly turn out as a young Gwendolyn had once imagined. For one, she didn’t imagine her wedding would take place in the Hells. Or that hundreds of thousands of fiends would be in attendance. And she’d never believe that the groom would be the archdevil supreme himself.

But most importantly, when Gwendolyn imagined herself getting married, she’d always believed her mother would be there, to walk her down the isle and help guide her through the day.

She also thought her friends would be there. But Gwen guessed that that’s what killing your companions get. The ones she hadn’t betrayed, who weren’t there when the fight happened, had also left her. The only one who remained had been Scratch.

Since the moment she had woken up, on the day of the wedding, Gwendolyn had felt lonely.

After she had eaten breakfast alone, since according to tradition, the couple wasn’t supposed to see each other yet, the servants had drawn her a bath and helped her wash herself. Then they dressed her, fixed her hair and were now finalizing putting makeup on her.

Scratch was laying at her feet, and every moment she got, she would pet him. At some point, when the servant attending her had left momentarily, she whispered to him. “Oh Scratch… I feel so alone. I wish Mother was here.”

As Gwen looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a sudden sadness. She was supposed to be surrounded by friends and family, she was supposed to be laughing and having fun. Instead, she was feeling lonelier than she had in years.

Not only that, but Gwen had another fear, one she hadn’t told Raphael about. While he was still at least half devil, she was mortal. Although she had spent some time in the Hells alongside him, understanding how ruling worked, she still feared that his, soon to be hers, subjects would reject her.

“You look beautiful, mistress.” One of the servants spoke, taking her out of her own head. Gwen turned to look at her, a young elven woman, and nodded her head in thanks. “Something wrong, mistress? You seem kind of sad.”

Gwen shook her head. “It’s…nothing. Just wedding jitters.” She gave the servant a tight smile. The elf didn’t seem convinced but decided to drop the topic. She walked over to her mistress, veil in hand.

Before the item could be placed on Gwen’s head, the tiefling raised a hand. “Wait. I have to go to relieve myself first.” She stood up from her chair, and various servants went after her, to hold her dress, but Gwen said “I’ll go alone.” She gathered her skirts and hurriedly left the room, Scratch following her.

As soon as she got out, Gwen looked around the hallway, and seeing nobody there, she opened up a portal. Before she walked into it, she turned to the dog. “Scratch, be a good boy and stay here. I’m just gonna go get some air and I’ll be back.” And then, she left.

…

Raphael’s day had gone as he had planned.

Everything was in order - the flowers, the music, the decoration - the guests had arrived on time and he looked great, having ordered a tailored garment for the occasion, shaved his beard and trimmed his hair.

Now, it was only a matter of time until the ceremony began. He waited in his room, sipping on wine. Everything was peaceful until Korilla burst into the room.

“We cannot find her.” The warlock said. Raphael raised an eyebrow and she explained. “I went to the mistress’ room, to bring her to the aisle, and when I got there, all her servants were saying she had gone missing.”

Raphael stood up, furious. “What? How come she left and nobody saw it?” Was his precious partner, the one who had betrayed her friends for him, running away? That couldn’t be. “Gather everyone. I want every corner of the Hells turned over until we find my runaway bride. In the meantime, go tell Mol to entertain the guests.” Korilla nodded and left to go after the others.

Raphael smashed the glass of wine he was holding. After everything they had gone through, she would dare leave him now, embarrassing him in front of his subjects?

No. He would not allow it. The wedding would happen, had she wanted to or not.

… Half an hour had passed, and he had no sight of where Gwendolyn could be. She had left no trace, whatsoever, and she was not to be found in any of the rooms she would normally be - the library, her room, the dining room or even the hellish gardens.

Raphael began to panic. How could a mortal such as she evade him in his own realm? He was so deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed Scratch’s presence until the dog licked his hand. He jumped back in surprise.

“Not now, Scratch.” He tried to shoo the dog away. Raphael had never liked dogs, but for Gwendolyn, he made an exception, considering how attached she was to him. He sighed and looked at the creature. “It seems that your owner has run away.”

At that, Scratch’s ears picked up and he wagged his tail. Then, he began to howl, almost as if he was trying to tell Raphael something. “What is it, boy? Would you happen to know where Gwendolyn is?” Scratch howled again and Raphael got an idea.

“Korilla, come quick.” He summoned the warlock. “I know where she is.”

…

Tahlia Gray had been buried in the gardens outside her home. To mark where she was, Gwendolyn had planted a couple of seeds of forget me nots, and although she hadn’t been there in years - as she was serving in the Hells as Raphael’s consort - the flowers had survived and were now in bloom.

Gwendolyn sat on the bench outside her home, the one that faced the flowers. Tears streamed down her face, as she spoke to herself. “I always thought this would be the happiest day of my life.” She sobbed. “Instead, I’m feeling more lonely than I ever could.” She walked towards the forget me nots and plucked one from the ground. “I wish you were here today, mama.”

Gwen stood there, clutching the delicate flower to her chest, when suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from behind her. “So this is where you’ve run off to.”

“Raphael.” She gasped as she turned around to face him, and immediately lowered her head.

“Gwendolyn.” He spoke, voice full of anger. “Are you trying to run away? To turn your back on me? You should know by now how foolish that is.” Raphael walked closer to her. “I will always come back to find you.”

“I…I didn’t mean to run away.” She said, quietly.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I…” She turned her back to him. She didn’t want to admit to him how lonely and scared she was. “We’re not supposed to see each other yet. Mother always said it would bring bad luck.”

Raphael was about to reply when he heard her sob. At the mention of her mother, he began to piece together what could be happening.

“Gwen… tell me what is on your head.” He said in a softer voice. When she didn’t reply, he placed a hand on her shoulder, getting closer to her. “Please.”

That made the dam break. “I just feel so alone.” She turned around and looked up at him. Through her tear filled eyes, she could see how his gaze had softened. “This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life but everyone is dead. My mom is not here, she won’t get to walk me down the aisle or see me in a wedding dress.” Gwen stopped to sniffle.

“Tav, my friends and companions, they are gone and it’s all my fault. I don’t deserve to be here, getting married and becoming a wife to the Archdevil Supreme after all I’ve done

She took a deep breath. “And I’m so scared that I’m letting you, and all the other fiends down. Tav would have been a much better leader and consort than I ever will.They should be the ones having a happy life, not I!” Gwen put both of her hands in her face and cried.

Raphael’s eyes were furrowed. Although Gwen had expressed some guilt over what she had done years ago, but now he had realized the hole was much deeper. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug, allowing her to cry on his vest.

He caressed her head as he spoke. “Tav was an ungrateful, scheming, lying bastard who got what they deserve. They could have never reached your status. You have gotten where you are because you took destiny into your own hands and made your own path, that lead you to me.”

Raphael took her chin in his fingers and raised her head towards him. “Look at me. Tradition be damned. I would have not chosen you if you hadn’t proven yourself worthy every step of the way. I would not have come here, in the middle of nowhere to come and get my bride, if I didn’t think you were to be the one to rule besides me.” He looked at the flowers and then back at her.

“And even if your mother isn’t here today, you know how much she had loved you. You gave her the best years of her life.” Gwen nodded. “I’ll make this promise to you. As long as I live, you will never be alone.” Raphael finished his speech, grabbing both of her hands and kissing them, while looking at her mismatched eyes.

“Thank you.” Gwen finally said. “I’m sorry. I should have talked about this long before, and now I’ve ruined-”

He interrupted her. “You have ruined nothing, my dear.”

“But, you´re planning?” She looked at his vest.

He shook his head. “This day is as much about you as it is about me. Even if I’d prefer everything to be in order, exceptions can be made, especially if it is for you.”

“And your clothes…I messed them up, as I imagine my makeup is as well.”

“I am the King, my dear. I can magic those away.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Now, let us go. Your subjects wait for you.” Raphael offered his arm.

“Wait.” She turned around and grabbed a few more forget me nots. “This way mother will be with me.” Gwen smiled and took his arm, allowing themselves to return.

…

After cleaning themselves up, the ceremony proceeded with no more troubles.

Gwendolyn walked down the aisle alone with a bouquet of white roses, magnolias and forget me nots in hand. Her dress was grand and white, with golden embroidery. Raphael had protested due to the color, but they had come to an agreement - he could plan everything else as long as she chose how the dress would look like. A sheer white veil covered her face and Mol, who was now a young adult, was placed behind her, holding the train of the dress.

Once they reached the end, where Raphael was placed, Gwendolyn gave Mol the bouquet, and turned her attention towards him. He was quick to lift her veil up. Due to having no better person, Korilla had been chosen to officiate.

“Do you take this woman, Gwendolyn Gray, daughter of Tahlia Gray, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, to be your wife?” Korilla said.

“I do.” Raphael answered with a smirk on his face, placing the ring on her finger.

“And do you take this man, Raphael, son of Mephistopheles, Archdevil Supreme, Lord of the Nine Hells, to be your husband.”

“I do.” Gwen smiled as she put the ring on his finger.

“Than I, Korilla Hearthflame, with the powers invested in me by Raphael, pronounce you husband and wife.”

Before the costumery kiss happened. Korilla had produced a cushion with a delicate tiara that much resembled the Crown of Karsus that Raphael wore.

He took the tiara in his hands. “Kneel.” He commanded and Gwen did so.

“With this, I make you not only my wife, but my consort, my partner, the one who will rule besides me, the one true Queen of the Nine Hells.” His voice boomed across the room. “Are you prepared to bear the burden of the crown?”

“Yes, my King.” She said. Then, she felt the tiara be placed on her head, and Raphael’s fingers lifted her face.

“Then rise, my Queen.” He offered his other hand and she grabbed it.

Once she stood up, Raphael pulled Gwendolyn close and kissed her on the mouth. With one hand on the back of her head and the other on her back, he dipped her as they kissed, which made her gasp, as the room erupted into cheers.

Later on, the newlyweds were sat beside a grand table, as guests appeared before them to grant their wishes and present them gifts.

Gwen looked around the room, how happy everyone seemed as they ate and danced. She looked her wedding ring, still not believing it had happened. And finally, she looked at Raphael, her husband.

She placed a hand on his wrist. “I want to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

He put his glass down and smiled towards her. “It is I who should thank you. I would not be here today if it wasn't for your efforts.”

Gwendolyn smiled. “I love you.”

“And I you.” He replied, reaching forwards and kissing her delicately.

THE END

#raphael bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gwendolyn gray #raphael x oc #not tav oc #raphael x gwendolyn gray #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael the cambion

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runesandramblings · 1 year

Text

"To The Ends of The Earth"

Word Count: TBD / ongoing

Content Warnings: none, follows the events from The Hobbit so there will be the expected violence from the movies

Pairings: KilixOC

Themes: crossover Marvel x Tolkien, romance, fanfic, canon-ish events

Summary:

In the wake of The Blip, the multi-verse has expanded knowledge of the universe in ways no one thought possible. For the first time, journeying between realms and realities is a tangible possibility.

Ex-SHIELD agent and Avenger, Lilith Lenore, is hiding from her past, shunning the life she once led. But when an offer from a wizard of another world is extended, she cannot refuse.

Chapter 7: Oakenshield

The room fell eerily silent. I followed the dwarves as they shuffled in the direction of the entrance. The jovial mood from moments before was gone, replaced with a quiet stillness that was unsettling.

I stood behind Kili and Fili at the back of the pack, trying to stay out of the way but still get a glimpse of who the last arrival was. Gandalf swung the front door open, and I heard a deep voice ring out.

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice.”

As he stepped through the doorway I took in the sight of the final dwarf. I couldn’t be certain in comparison to Gandalf, but he appeared to also be a bit taller than the rest of the company as Fili and Kili were. He had long, dark hair streaked with white and two braids at his temples. His beard was cropped close to his chin. I also noted a remarkable resemblance to the two brothers I stood behind.

“Who is that?” I asked quietly.

“It’s our uncle, Thorin.” Fili whispered in return.

The party gathered around the dining room table again as Thorin stood in the hall, removing his cloak and conversing with Gandalf about his trip. I could overhear him begin to grill Bilbo about his experience and abilities as he picked over the leftover food and ale. I settled into a spot at the end of the table next to Fili and Kili. The dwarves remained silent, looking nervously from one to another as they waited for Thorin to enter. I grimaced when I heard him insult Bilbo from the other room.

“He seems nice.” I said sarcastically, under my breath.

Kili and Fili both stifled a laugh as Thorin entered the room.

“You get used to him.” Kili mumbled in return.

His nephew’s voice seemed to draw his attention to the end of the table where the three of us sat. His eyes finally fell on me, only for a moment. As we locked eyes he quickly looked away, turning to face Gandalf with a disgruntled frown.

“You didn’t mention anything about a hobbit or a woman on our journey.” He said disdainfully. The disappointment was evident on his face.

I scowled in return, and I could feel the brothers both fix a sympathetic gaze on me. I’d certainly been misunderestimated on Earth before. I was young, I was small, and needless to say I was a woman. But it was remarkable how those things fell to the side quickly after you’ve saved the planet a few times. Thorin’s attitude was one I hadn’t been faced with in quite a while.

“Trust me, you will be grateful for Lilith’s presence.” Gandalf began. “I did not make my decision lightly. She is a skilled fighter. She is also remarkably quick and light on her feet, as is our hobbit. You tasked me with finding the 14th and 15th members of this company. I need you to trust my judgment.”

Thorin did not seem convinced. He took a long sip from his ale before speaking again, though he refused to meet my gaze. He kept his eyes focused on Gandalf.

“I will not be responsible for her safety. I cannot guarantee it. Or the hobbit’s.”

Gandalf opened his mouth to respond.

“I can handle myself.” I spoke up, cutting him off. I felt the eyes of the table turn to me. The room remained dead quiet, with the exception of the few words spoken between Thorin, myself, and Gandalf. I kept my attention focused on Thorin, ignoring the silent stares of the other dwarves. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. His eyes were focused on his nephews, who were both watching me.

“I’m sure you can.” He said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

I ran my fingertips over the hilt of one of the blades against my thigh, debating whether or not I felt like demonstrating. I loathed Thorin's attitude, but I also wasn’t sure how much of a wave I wanted to make before the trip even began. His refusal to look me in the eye angered me as much as his words did, and he continued to avoid my stare as he spoke to Gandalf once again.

“I thought I made it clear the kind of assistance I requested.” Thorin began, viciously eyeing the wizard as he spoke. “I don’t intend to be slowed by the likes of a damsel in distress at every turn. Or a halfling.”

He finally turned to me for the first time since he’d sat down, casting a disgusted look down the table in my direction as he turned up his mug to quickly finish the rest of his ale.

That did it.

In one smooth motion I stood and ripped the knife from its sheath. Without hesitation I flung the blade with a flick of my wrist down the table towards the rude dwarf. It whirled through the air seamlessly and lodged solidly in the bottom of the wooden mug. It found its intended target with a loud thud, planting itself dead in the center as I’d intended. Thorin froze in place, the glass still raised to his lips.

The silence was deafening. The dwarves sat motionless, half of them staring at Thorin and the other half staring at me. No one dared speak, let alone move.

Gandalf was frozen as well, still looking at Thorin as he held the mug firmly in place, unwavering. He looked from him to me and for the first time since we’d met, he appeared rattled. I didn’t know if he’d anticipated Thorin’s reluctance of my place within the group, but I was certain he didn’t expect me to heave a dagger at the dwarf’s head upon our first meeting.

Thorin slowly lowered the mug, not seeming to mind the ale that dribbled down from the hole in the base. We locked eyes and I kept my focus trained on him as I sat down, unwilling to be the first to break eye contact.

He kept his eyes locked on mine in return as he reached down and grasped the handle of the knife. He gave a sharp tug; nothing happened. He finally broke eye contact as he looked down at the mug and tugged again. Still, the dagger remained lodged in the center. He looked from his glass to Gandalf, seeming to realize how tightly it was stuck and how much strength that required; not to mention the skill required to place it dead in the center. It was a target of only about five inches, and a slight miscalculation could have been the end of the one they called Oakenshield.

A deep, rough noise came from his throat. It sounded like a cough at first, but slowly I realized it was a chuckle. The chuckle grew louder, turning into a deep belly laugh. He laughed alone for several moments, as the rest of the company were still too on edge to even crack a smile. I saw Gandalf relax out of the corner of my eye.

“I seem to stand corrected.” He said, holding the mug out towards me. Ale continued to dribble from the bottom as he nodded his head to me in respect. “I can admit when I am wrong. Welcome to the company, Lady Lilith.”

I returned his nod, grateful my gamble had paid off and not resulted in my banishment from the company. He finished his drink with the knife still stuck in the bottom of the mug, and once the glass was empty he handed it to Dwalin, gesturing for him to pass it down the line and return my blade to me.

Chatter slowly picked up around me as the dwarves began to discuss the mountain, speaking of signs and the logistics of the quest. As I tried to focus my attention on the conversation between Thorin and Balin to gain a better understanding of what our objective would be, I became aware of two stares that were still fixed on me.

“Mahal.” Kili breathed, scarcely above a whisper as he took Thorin’s mug from Fili. “I’ve never known a dwarf that even had the nerve to speak back to Thorin.” He passed me the glass and I could see a smile begin pulling against the corners of his lips. “You are endlessly fascinating, my lady.”

“What if you’d missed?” Fili asked, his eyes still wide with a hint of fear and fascination.

“I don’t miss.” I whispered, winking at the both of them as I ripped the dagger from the mug in one pull.

** Mahal – the Dwarvish version of “God” or a maker

#kili durin #kili fanfic #kili x oc #marvel crossover #marvel oc #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit crossover #the hobbit x marvel #kili #kili durin fanfic #kili durin x oc #fili #fili durin #thorin oakenshield

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lennjamin-o7 · 7 months

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do you think you could describe specifically what phil & techno look like in your unnamed god au? I kinda wanna draw smth for sbi whumptober w your au 👉👈

Hmmm it's kind of hard, considering they are going to have different appearance depending on when in the fic.

Techno in college had long hair, clean shaven, and tended to wear college hoodies and t-shirts because they were free. Not much style there. Woodsman Techno is wearing all black like a creep. Black zip-up jacket, black shirt, black pants. But he does have a beard during this. Not much opportunity to shave in the woods. He still has long hair. Its just easier to manage in the woods, though he doesn't have shampoo so its frizzy. He keeps it braided most of the time.

Phil's first appearance has him very scruffy. Long unbrushed hair because he has been bound in a way that doesn't exactly allow for brushing his hair all that often. His clothes are somewhere between ancient Babylonian and Egyptian. But they are older fabric. Ancient Babylon favored bright colors and layers. He has been bound long enough that the colors are faded and the fabric is on its very last legs. Phil in the modern day is STILL gonna favor Babylonianesque/Egyptianesque/Mesopotamianesque robes, but he is gonna get a haircut. Chin length. He isn't going to have a big beard, even though that WAS what historical Babylonians had. This is fantasy, he can have his chin beard.

As for when Phil finds Techno? I feel likes in not a spoiler to say he will spoil him. He's gonna get some nice clothes as well. Definitely going to be in the reds and golds.

I hope that helps!

#ask and ye shall recieve #anonymous #unnamed god au #lenn writes

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hopecountyisforlovers · 8 months

Text

anniversary;

rating: general

pairing: summerseed

words: 436

summary: i thought of john and tobias growing old together and was so overcome w love i had to write a little drabble. also in 12 days its THREE YEARS of summerseed. so i guess this is me writing something for that

----x----

"Can you believe it's been twenty years?"

John's voice comes from behind him, arms wrapping around his waist a moment later. The early spring sunset dawns late over the horizon, dying the endless Montana sky in oranges and pinks. Tobias loves to watch the sun set- loves to draw to a close another day in his charmed life, so that he can look forward to the next one.

The only thing he loves more than that, is the man who gave it to him.

He twists in John's arms, fingers alighting on his jawline, scratching at his beard- peppered through with grey in the aftermath of his 52nd birthday, the same grey dying his temples. He remembered the day John had spent locked in their bathroom when he found his first grey hair- he can't help but smile at how he's embraced it, now. Tobias is sure it's in no small part to John's adoration of his own grey streaks- of how his own eye corners crinkled when he smiled.

Time had not ravaged either of them- it was sliding over them, slowly, wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

"No. Feels like just yesterday you were kissing me and then dropping me in the river."

John rolls his eyes good-naturedly, although he does flush a bit- just a little. Tobias can tell.

"Not exactly the height of romance, was it?"

"You don't think so?"

"Tobias." There is laughter in it- even to this day, it makes his chest flutter.

"I'm serious! Our first kiss, under the moonlight, with all those stars. Waking up in your bed the next day. It felt like.." He thinks for a moment, and John is hanging on his every word, his grip tightening on his waist, "The very first day of my life."

John leans in to kiss him, and it stirs him the same way it did that night. Tobias' fingers tangle into his hair, soft- there is no rush between them. No limit to how they savor each other. It wasn't as though every one was exactly like the first- it was like every kiss got a little better, even. When they part, the sun has dipped fully below the horizon, the stars twinkling into existence overhead. They don't pull apart, not all the way- it's natural for them to be close. The blue of John's eyes is all he cares to see.

"Surely that was more romantic."

A peal of laughter bubbles out of him. "If I say it wasn't, will you do it again?"

They stay on the porch, savoring each other, well into the night.

#f/o: john #my writing #this ones for the fc5 girlies sorry i dont post it nearly enough #however. john is really the loml #theres so much i wouldnt have been able to get through without him #i just. hes really important to me #john has loved me on days i couldnt love myself #hes given me peace #i cried writing this and im crying writing these tags. sorry for being so emotional i just love my husband so much

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druidgroves · 9 months

Text

ok dianthe backstory done she's also long RIP

Before Dianthe Parvenus was even a glimmer in her parents’ eyes, the Parvenus line started with her great-great grandfather, Theron, and his pact with the devil Mephistopheles. A poor man with no money and no last name, Theron did the unspeakable when he sold his immortal soul for money and influence. Thrust into Balduran nobility practically overnight, Theron took on the surname Parvenus to pass onto his newfound lineage.

Fool enough to make a deal but not fool enough to make a pact, Theron used his wealth to become an accomplished wizard. He passed the importance of magic and power down to his only son, Theron Parvenus II, whom he pressured into learning the arcane arts. Passing on the name as well as the expectation that each Parvenus patriarch be a master wizard became tradition. In the latter half of 15th century DR, Theron IV still carried that torch—somewhat.

By this point, the Parvenus line was hemorrhaging gold. Theron III had a bad habit of gambling and throwing money at his problems. Such an attitude lead the third Parvenus patriarch to die at the hands of particularly aggressive loansharks. However, it was his son, Theron IV, and his business prowess that saved the family name from going broke. At twenty, he used what was left of the money to start a business in the importing of spell components and magical items for low key, discerning customers. The idea made enough money to save their social standing as well as secure a marriage that eventually produced three children, Dianthe being the last.

Her elder siblings, Evander and Aurelia, were enrolled in an arcane academy young so as to build skill early. While their father was an accomplished wizard himself, he had a business to run and was simply too busy to teach them as his father had taught him and his father before and so on. Because of this, he pressured them to do well and exceed his own high expectations. When Evander and Aurelia were 8 and 7 respectively, their younger sister Dianthe was born, and sent the entire Parvenus family into chaos.

Born with blue skin and a pointed tail, it was said her mother died of shock right there on the bed when she was placed in her arms. Not long after the funeral did Theron IV find evidence of his great-grandfather's deal, with his youngest child being further proof that the Parvenus name was built on lies and fiendish magic.

Growing up, Dianthe wasn't treated terribly unfairly, but her father's expectations were higher than that of her siblings. She was always expected to sit straighter than Evander, or speak softer than Aurelia. She hated drawing attention to herself to avoid her father’s critical eye and did anything she could to fade into the background. She filled her time reading books about adventurers and far off places, a hobby that would keep her company growing up in her lonelier years.

Her siblings half-resented her for taking their mother away from them and it was clear in her father's eyes that he had his own complicated feelings about her. The only time they seemed to get along like a family was after dinner, when her brother and sister would show off the new spells they learned (a requirement from their father to keep up with their studies). Their magic had always entranced Dianthe and when the time came for her to start attending, she had to beg and plead her father to let her. At age eight, he finally relented by acquiring a private tutor for her.

Within an hour of her first day of class, the man ran out of their estate with fire clinging to his clothes, cursing the family’s name. This was when the wild magic that had laid dormant for nearly a decade showed itself, causing even more chaos for the family. No spell Dianthe cast was without consequence, whether it be fire, a temporary beard made of feathers, or becoming a polymorphed sheep. It was clear that she was a sorcerer with magic she couldn't control, no matter how dedicated to her studies she would be.

With her siblings excelling in their magic and Dianthe left behind as the black sheep of the family, she did everything she could to prove she was still useful to them. She poured herself into arcane theory in an attempt to study her own magic, as well as developing a keen knack for matters of money by listening in on her father's business dealings. She did well in ways she could get her hands on things, being able to accurately price any of the magic items coming in and out of her father's business and even pointing out errors in his ledgers (always with a polite, even tone). In fact, she did so well with finances that her father had discussed using her talents in the business officially, telling her that even if she could not match Evander and Aurelia in matters of magic, her mind could still be put to good use. She figured this was as good as it was going to get. At twenty-three, Dianthe began doing the books for the family business.

For the first time possibly ever, Dianthe felt like she earned her place in her family. During this time of unprecedented good luck, she became acquainted with a young nobleman named Malion Blackwell. He was an artist from a family of artists and the two quickly fell in love. He proclaimed Dianthe his muse and the attention was everything she ever wanted. For every portrait he did of her, she would shower him in gifts for she had no artistic talents to give back. Expensive paints, custom-made canvases, the works; Malion got as much supplies from her as Dianthe got adoration from him.

When discussion of who the family business would go to in the event of Theron IV’s death, Dianthe was sure she would be prioritized. She had done so well with the finances that they were actually saving money, as she had developed better trade relations than her father ever had. She excitedly told Malion of her prospects and the very next week he had a ring. It was no question that she said yes.

A week after that, Theron fell ill. A month later he was dead. The family business was left in Evander’s hands.

Dianthe seethed. She had never been this angry before. She had worked hard for the one thing she thought she was owed in her life, if not her family’s love then the business she helped shape. She would have thought her money-minded father would have at least realized that. She had more financial know-how in her little finger than her older brother had in his entire head. It was with this idea, and with bitter regret, that twenty-six year old Dianthe took the inheritance she had and left the family. She found herself a modest apartment in the Lower City with dreams of starting her own financial practice.

Malion did not share her dreams, and broke off their engagement and left her. Dianthe was devastated, now lonelier than ever, but managed to push through on her new dream. She began advertising herself specifically to adventurers, as she had come to know through visits to the Elf Song that most groups of heroes weren’t very financially savvy. For six years she worked and made the acquaintance of many a would-be adventurer, sometimes trading financial advice for stories of their conquests. Such stories eventually inspired her to perhaps follow the books of her youth and try her own hand at it. She had a little magic—that she was loathe to use, sure—but one didn’t need magic to adventure.

Little was she to know that on the day an illithid nautiloid passed over Baldur’s Gate, she would need more than just her innate, tangled knot of Weave to survive what adventure was to come.

#rae.txt #ch: dianthe parvenus

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middleearthpixie · 2 years

Text

After the Fire ~ Chapter Thirty-Five

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done.

Nothing could possibly prepare Jasna for what the council questions her about…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Balin, Thadrid, Nafas, Dáin, Skalmar,

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,392

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @ggfamert @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Jasna sat at Óin’s desk, finishing up the notes she had been putting into Salig’s chart when hands came down upon her shoulders. She started at first, but then smiled as thick fingers slowly kneaded her muscles, relaxing warmth spread through, and Thorin said, “Does Óin know you’ve commandeered his chair?”

She leaned back to smile up at him, her stomach doing a slow flip at the seriousness in his blue eyes. “He does, actually. And even if he d-d-didn’t, I’m just about finished. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”

His fingers went still. “The council has requested your presence, mesmel.”

She swallowed hard as a hint of nausea rippled through her. “I knew it w-w-was c-c-coming, but I didn't think s-s-s-s—” She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. “So soon.”

“You needn’t be frightened, Jasna.”

“Of course I do. They’ll listen t-t-to m-m-m-me st-st—they’ll think me stupid.”

He crouched beside her, catching her hand between his. “They will think no such thing. They will think you nervous, but that’s all. I’ll be there with you, and so will Balin, so worry not.”

She pressed her lips together, gazing down at him. Then, she covered his hand with her free one. “I wish I could be so sure, Thorin,” she murmured, shaking her head. “But I’m afraid they will.”

He brought her hand to his lips, his beard and mustache tickling her skin as he brushed the back of her hand with a kiss. “Have faith, amrâlimê. You are not stupid and no one thinks otherwise. And as I said, I’ll be there with you the entire time.”

That helped sooth her fraying nerves, even if only a little, and so she nodded. “Then let’s g-g-go. I don’t w-w-wish to keep them w-w-waiting.”

He stood, drawing her to her feet alongside him, and leaned in to brush her lips with a soft kiss this time. “You will knock them dead, mesmel. You will see.”

“I hope so.” She picked up Salig’s chart to file and once it was put away, she slipped her hand into Thorin’s and let him lead her away from the infirmary, down to the same level as the throne room. Only they moved past it, down a dark and dusty hallway, and at the end of that hallway, voices rose from behind a closed door.

Her stomach pitched at those voices. The Elder Council. Any moment and she would be before them, where they would judge whether or not she was worthy of being Thorin Durin’s wife.

She cast a sidelong glance at Thorin, whose expression remained neutral. Her fingers tightened of their own about his, and in response, his thumb brushed the side of her hand and he whispered, “You will be fine.”

“I hope so.” Her mouth and throat went painfully dry when he tugged open the door and led her into the small, dusty room where half a dozen unfamiliar dwarves sat around a large stone table. On the wall behind them, maps of Middle Earth had been etched in gold into the stone, almost artistic in their details from rivers and mountains to roads and forests and even villages. She’d never seen anything like it, and wished she could go over and study it closer.

As she drew near the table, Dáin Ironfoot smiled and said, “Welcome, Miss Stoneham. It’s good ta see ye again.”

“And you as well, Mr. Ironfoot.”

“Och, I’m Dáin, and ye know it.” He turned to the dwarves seated mid-table. “Did I tell ye how she fixed up my thumb? I’d have lost it, were it not for her skill.”

The dwarf didn't seem at all impressed even as he nodded. “You were lucky, Dáin.”

“Aye, I was lucky, indeed, Skalmar. And Erebor would be lucky to have her alongside Thorin on the throne.”

Jasna almost smiled as a pleasant warmth swept through her at Dáin’s words. They did much to soothe her roiling belly and rapidly fraying nerves. Thorin’s fingers tightened about hers, which helped calm her even further.

The door opened again and this time, Balin slipped around it and into the room, smiling as he met her gaze. Her belly calmed some as he came up to stand alongside Thorin. He exuded such serenity, such quiet confidence, that she found his presence to be a welcome one indeed.

A dwarf with blond hair and dark eyes cleared his throat. “Ah, Your Majesty,” he said, looking from one to the other and back, “the Council would prefer to speak to Miss Stoneham alone.”

Alone? Panic bit into Jasna with pointed teeth. No, they couldn't leave her there to stammer and stutter like an idiot before the council. A cold sweat prickled along her spine, her stomach roiled harder now, and for a moment, she was terrified she was going be sick.

It only worsened when Thorin said, “I beg your pardon, Thadrid?”

Thadrid nodded. “It makes our job a bit easier if she need not worry about offending you.”

“I rather doubt she could possibly offend me. But, if you insist, far be it from me to argue the matter,” Thorin replied easily, casting a gentle look over at her. Then he turned to Balin. “Stay with her, if you don’t mind.”

Balin bobbed his head. “Of course I don’t mind. I’ll—”

Thadrid broke in. “Balin, you will need to leave as well. As I said, we’d rather speak to Miss Stoneham alone.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Thorin spun back to Thadrid, “she is not a prisoner, nor is she being interrogated as if she is one. Balin stays.”

“Your Majesty—”

“He stays.” Thorin never raised his voice, but it rolled through the room like thunder just the same and all of the council members flinched in unison.

Thadrid pressed his lips together until they disappeared, while another blond dwarf, who looked no happier, nodded slightly. “Very well. He may stay.”

Jasna swallowed hard, looking over a Balin, who offered up a serene smile and murmured, “You will be fine, lassie. You’ll see.”

“I thank you for your generosity,” Thorin growled. Then, he turned to her and caught her hands once more. “You have nothing to worry about, mesmel,” he murmured, giving her hands a squeeze. “I’ll return as soon as they let me.”

She swallowed hard, very much aware of the dwarves watching her so carefully, and nodded. “You better.”

He winked. “I will.”He looked over at Balin. “Don’t let them harass her.”

“Of course not.”

Thorin met her gaze once more, then leaned in to brush her lips with his, whispered, “Maralmizi,” and then straightened up to give her hands one more squeeze. “You will be fine.”

She nodded slowly, pressing her lips together as he slowly turned to walk out of the room. As the door closed, the dull thud echoed around them and she turned toward the council, hands clasped at her hips, eyes on the blond dwarf seated in the middle of the group—the one Dáin called Skalmar.

He didn't smile. Did nothing to put her at ease as he said, “Your full name, please. For the record.”

She looked over at Thadrid, who dipped a pen into an inkwell and awaited her response. She drew in a deep breath. “Jasna Rose Stoneham.”

“Place of birth?”

“Esgaroth.”

“Parents’ names?”

“Arabella and Lucas Stoneham. My f-father died several years ago, but my mother lives in Dale now.”

“Why did you leave Esgaroth?”

She just stared at Skalmar. “Because it was on f-fire, sir.”

A soft laugh rippled through the council and she looked over in time to see Dáin wink at her. “Enough wi’ the trivialities,” he said with no little exasperation. “Ye know all of this and what ye don’t know is nothin’ any of us need know.”

Skalmar ignored him. “And it was on fire because…?”

“Smaug the Terrible attacked us. He destroyed Esgaroth almost completely.”

“And your home was one of those destroyed?”

She nodded. “It was, yes. We live in Dale now, as I said.”

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

Jasna had never heard more insincere sympathies, but she smiled just the same and bobbed her head. “Thank you.”

“Now,” this came from a dark haired dwarf seated to Thadrid’s right, “let us begin. How did you meet His Majesty, King Thorin?”

She met the dwarf’s gaze, inhaling slowly to allow her words time to form. “I met him almost immediately following the Battle of the F-five Armies. Óin asked Bard, the Master of Dale if he knew of anyone who m-might help in the infirmary. Bard is a friend of my family, and he kn-kn-knew I was training to be a h-h-healer, and so gave him m-my name. When he asked me, I agreed to come and help out as b-b-best I could.”

“I see, and did you know he was the king of Erebor?”

“I’d heard he was, yes.” She concentrated on her breathing. In. Out. It helped calm her mind and relax her tongue to soften her stammer. “But that had n-n-no bearing on my decision. I knew I c-c-could help and so I agreed to do so.”

“So, Thorin’s being king had nothing to do with it?”

“I beg your pardon, but did you not just hear her explain how and why she came to be here?”

“Balin,” Skalmar broke in, “we are allowing you to remain here as a courtesy. You will be quiet or we will ask that you leave as well.”

Balin visibly bristled even as he said, “Of course.”

“Now, Miss Stoneham, answer the question. Did Thorin’s being king play into your decision to come and assist the dwarves when not only are you not dwarven, but you knew they’d played a direct role in the destruction of your home and the most likely the deaths of people you care about.”

Her gut twisted sharply but she held his gaze and shook her head. “It did not, no. I gave no thought to it whosoever.”

“And did you know his heirs were in your care as well?”

“I knew his nephews were. But n-n-no one told me of anyone’s title at first.”

“So, you were here out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Nafas, she told ye why she came!” Dáin broke in, impatience woven through his voice. “She’s good at wha’ she does and if she was plannin’ ta kill Thorin, he’d be dead by now.”

Jasna swallowed hard as the three dwarves glared at her. Nafas’ gray eyes weren’t the least bit friendly. “Did you intend to claim the king as your own?”

“Did I intend to wh-what?”

“Did you set out to seduce him?”

“Now see here,” Balin broke in with a scowl, “that is uncalled for and you know it, laddie.”

“Is it? She is of Man and she saw the King of Erebor—the very dwarf responsible for the incineration of her hometown, for the deaths of her people—wounded, vulnerable. Is it beyond the realm of the possible that she had some ulterior motive, such as seducing him to bring about his downfall? It is a perfectly reasonably question and I’ll not ask you to be quiet again.”

“Se-seduce him? Are you mad? Of course not!” Jasna’s laugh escaped on its own, his question just so very absurd to her as she shook her head even as her fury rose. “My sole intention was to keep him from dying. Have you any idea h-h-how seriously w-w-w-wounded he was? H-h-h-how cl-clo—” She smashed her lips together to calm her tongue, tears stinging her eyes as they al stared at her as if she was some sort of science experiment gone horribly awry. Swallowing hard once more, she cleared her throat and tried again. “He was very near death when he was br-brought into the infirmary. He’d sustained two massive stab wounds to his chest and belly and was in the pr-pr-process of bl-bl-bl-bleeding out when he arrived in the infirmary. All I c-c-cared about was stabilizing him so Óin or Narnerra would tend to his wounds. That was it. There was no time to do anything else and I cer-cer-cer—wasn’t plotting against him! I actually fl-fled the infirmary because the sight of his wounds made me s-s-s-sick. I went out to g-g-g-get some fresh air and ended up v-v-v-v—throwing up in the weeds in the courtyard.

“I sat at his bedside, his and his nephews, and watched over them. I gave them pain medicine when they needed it and wiped down their brows when they were with fever. I stitched their wounds when Óin and Narnerra’s hands were too big to maneuver inside their bodies. And when nightmares—” She paused. No one need know about Thorin’s nightmares—“I cared for the king and his nephews because it is what I do. It is what I am trained to do and it is what I was asked to do, what I offered to do. The last thing I thought would happen was that I would fall in love with him.”

Skalmar’s eyes widened. “How did that come about? Do you plan to remain in Dale or were you hoping to move back to Esgaroth? And if so, how, considering Esgaroth is no more?”

“What are you s-s-s-suggesting?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I suggest nothing. I find it odd that a daughter of Man would, out of the goodness of her heart, agree to help dwarves she knows nothing about without some sort of ulterior motive of some sort. Especially considering what those same dwarves did to her. Perhaps you thought the coffers of Erebor might be within your grasp to take whatever you might personally need from them?”

“Now see here—” Balin sputtered.

“I am a healer, Mr. Skalmar,” she cut Balin off, meting Skalmar’s cold-eyed stare. “I c-c-care not the r-race of the person I am t-t-t-tasked with caring for. Man. Dwarf. Elf. Hobbit. They would all receive the exact same care from me. And it matters not if I know them well or have never seen them before. It doesn’t ch-ch-ch-change.”

“Perhaps, but becoming a queen… that must be a very motivating factor in your,” he held up his huge hands to make air quote with his thick fingers, “care.”

Her spine stiffened. “How dare y—”

“Easy, Skalmar,” Dáin broke in, his voice heavy with angry warning, “Yer about to level some serious accusations wi’out much in the way o’ proof.”

Skalmar clamped his mouth shut and sat back in his chair. Thadrid tapped his pen again the table lightly. “Miss Stoneham, how did your relationship with the king come into being?”

She clenched her hands, letting her fingernails bite into her palms to take her mind off her roiling belly and growing anger. As she drew breath, she counted slowly—in… out—and willed her tongue into submission once more.

“I told you. I spent much time with him and his nephews. I sat with them. Tended their wounds. Eased their pain. Patients talk to me. They confide in me because they are frightened at times and vulnerable and as he remained in my care, in Óin and Narnerra’s care, His Majesty and I became friends and it led to more.”

“How much more?”

“I b-b-beg your pardon?” She glowered at him. “Is this why you wished him to leave? B-b-because you want to h-h-h-hear deep, sc-scandalous secrets that you are too af-af-af—scared to ask him to share?”

“I think we should take a break here,” Dáin broke in sharply. “Enough wi’ the questions. Not a one of ye has asked anything relevant to whether or not this law should be changed. If ye want gossip, ye should all join a sewin’ circle or the like.”

She swallowed hard, fury burning through her like wildfire. Indignation. Outrage. Disbelief. They all swirled through her like spiked smoke. She could understand their wanting to question her, but there was no need for anything salacious to be asked and she had the feeling Thadrid was just itching to come out and ask her if she and Thorin were lovers, which she would, of course, refuse to answer as it was none of their business.

Skalmar sighed and bobbed his head. “Very well. I would like to speak with Óin and Narnerra next. Miss Stoneham, you are free to go.”

She turned and without waiting for Balin, stalked out of the room and it wasn't until the door closed behind her that she unclenched her fists and realized how badly she actually shook. Tears stung her eyes, the horrible realization that she’d probably sunk any chance Thorin had at getting the law amended made her stomach twist into painful knots.

She made it around the corner before sinking to the floor, and buried her face in her hands. But her tears refused to come. She was simply too wrung out to even cry.

“Miss Stoneham?”

She looked up to see Balin standing before her and an uncomfortable heat swirled through her. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Do I look all right?” She rolled her eyes. “You heard them in there. They are l-l-l-looking for anything they can t-t-t-to ref-ref-ref-ref-say no to Thorin’s request. And I’m f-f-f-fairly certain I’ve r-r-ruined everything f-f-for him!”

“Why would you think that?”

“You heard them, Balin. And you heard me.” She let out a shaky sigh as he sank to the floor alongside her, and shook her head. “I knew they would ask me personal questions, but not that personal.”

“Oh, lassie, I wish I could say I was surprised. Dwarves are not overly fond of Men.”

“You don’t say.”

He offered up a sympathetic smile. “That’s not to say all dwarves, of course. I know a few who would walk through fire for you, and among them is a king.”

“But I yelled at them. I asked them how dare they pose such questions to me. You saw it. You heard it. Dáin had to intervene and they decided they’d no more use for me. And I think I’ve ruined everything.”

“Don’t be so certain. They have great respect for Thorin and a great love for him. They will want to do what is best for all concerned.”

“And that will be keeping me as far away from him as possible.”

“If only that were possible,” Balin said with a soft chuckle. “I think that boy would tear down walls, would fight a dragon again with his bare hands, to get to you, lassie. I’ve never seen him the way he is now. And you’ve brought out the better in him.”

She managed a smile. “I’d hate for it to come to that.”

“I think he would, too. But he would do it.”

Without thinking, Jasna leaned her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t explain it, but she was ever so comfortable with him, as he gave off a fatherly air of quiet, unwavering support. A sigh bubbled to her lips. “He’s told me that if th-they won’t agree to ch-change the law, he will step down.”

“I know,” Balin replied.

“I cannot let him do that, Balin.” She looked up at him. “He is your king and I can’t let him walk away from that for me.”

“Miss Jasna,” he told her softly, “I don’t think you will be able to convince him otherwise. Let me tell you something about Thorin Oakenshield. He does not love easily. He does not trust easily. He’s known far too much grief and loss to do so. And when he makes up his mind about something, he does not often change it. He will not change it about this, if it comes to that. He loves you that much.”

“And I love him just as much, and that’s why I’d rather step away than see him do that.”

“Then we have to hope the council votes wisely.”

“Which is why I am certain I was more hindrance than help.” She got to her feet with a heavy sigh. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be up by the r-r-r-river. I need to clear my head.”

Balin didn't try to stop her as she made her way up to the main level and then out into the warm sunshine. It was a glorious day, with crystal blue skies and a warm gentle breeze. The thrushes and ravens had returned in full force to the Lonely Mountain and their songs trilled through the new saplings that had sprung up from the soil.

The rush of water greeted her as she crested the hill between the mountain and Ravenhill and what was once a barren, rock-strewn plains was now green with new grass and more saplings that would one day provide a leafy canopy along the riverbanks. It offered just the tranquility she needed to calm her whirring thoughts and settle her roiling stomach and as she sank onto the grassy riverbank, she tried not think of how badly she might have damaged Thorin’s fight.

She lifted her face to the sun, her eyes closing, the warm breeze wafting over her like a whisper. If only she could stay right there, and not go back to Erebor, not go back to the little room with the unfriendly dwarves who took an instant disliking to her simply because she was of Man.

“There you are.”

She looked up as Thorin came striding toward her. Balin’s words echoed in her head and her throat tightened, her eyes stung. He’d known seemingly nothing but loss and despair and she was about to bring that all back for him.

His shadow fell over her momentarily, then he sank beside her on the grass. “What is it?”

“Nothing, why do you ask?”

“Jasna.”

She took a deep breath, her gaze going to the river, sparkling in the sunlight as if dotted with gemstones. “I made a m-m-mess of everything, I’m afraid.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but kept staring out at that sparkling water. “They asked me if I thought to get close to you in order to exact revenge of some sorts on you, they wanted to know just how close I’ve gotten to you, and if it had been my intention to seduce you—and yes, they used that exact w-w-word. And I got upset and angry and I think I’ve ruined everything.”

“They asked me the same and I highly doubt they are finished asking me about the nature of our relationship.”

As he spoke, he caught her by the chin and gently turned her toward him. “You’ve ruined nothing, Jasna. Their questions are logical, and their concerns were valid at first. But, they’ll learn soon enough that you are not looking to kill me in my sleep and steal my throne. Mahal knows, you’ve had plenty of opportunity to slit my throat. The Orcrist is next to my bed.”

“The Orcrist?”

“See?” He smiled, his fingers brushing lightly along her jaw. “A sword with a razor sharp blade is within your reach when I am at my most vulnerable and you didn't even realize it.”

“Well, why w-w-would I? In your bedchamber, there is usually something else I’m paying attention to instead.”

His chuckle swept across her lips, followed by his lips. “Good answer.”

She managed a slight laugh as she drew back. “Still, I didn't do well, I’m af-afraid.”

“Worry not, amrâlimê. They’ll see how others view you here. How we’ve all become rather fond of you.” His thumb brushed along her chin. “Very fond of you, in fact.”

She held his gaze, her eyelids lowering as he leaned in and covered her lips with his. His kiss came soft and teasing, his lips moving gently against hers. She parted hers, almost sighing as his tongue swept along hers.

He leaned into her, sliding an arm about her as he eased her onto her back and she smiled when he came up over her. The grass was soft and warm from the sun, a hint of wildflower hung in the air and as Thorin kissed her so thoroughly and so deeply, she wouldn’t have cared if the word came to an end right then and there.

Thorin broke the kiss, then swept his lips along her jaw, toward her ear, whispering, “Maralmizi…”

She smiled despite her gloomy thoughts. “Maralmizu…”

He drew back, his dark hair falling about them as if to shield them from the world and when he gazed upon her, a gentle smile lifted his lips. “Everything will be fine, mesmel. You’ll see.”

“I don’t think it will.”

“Why? Because you told them you weren’t planning on slitting my throat whilst I sleep one night?”

“Thorin, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He shifted to stretch out on the grass alongside her. “They are questioning Óin and Narnerra now and you have to know how highly they’ve come to regard you. Fíli, Kíli, Dís… they all consider you one of us.”

She sighed softly, propping her head on her fist. “But what if your council d-d-d-decides otherwise?”

His eyes softened. “You know the answer to that.”

“Thorin, I can’t let you—”

“You aren’t letting me do anything.” He leaned over to kiss her lightly. “And we will not discuss it any further.”

As he spoke, he drew her atop him, easing his hands beneath her tunic, his palms warm on her skin. They skimmed upward, sending a sweet tingle through her and there were no more words as his lips found hers once more.

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA

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