#from the ashes of the scorned

[theresasongstuckinmyhead]

#song lyrics #lyric aesthetic #helluva boss #fizzarolli #paranoid dj #cycoriot #fizzarolli's show #the ringleader #I don't let the scars define me #they're the badges I adorn #rebuilt #reborn #from the ashes of the scorned #musicals

[ninawolv3rina]

Thinking about early book Quincy again... actually just thinking about book 1 Quincy tbh

#book 3 quincy is great but put upon rising from the ashes quincy is such a vibe #scary scorned criminal quincy #thats my fucking GIRL #angry at the world #finally learning to like herself #thats the one #quincy #musings

[abyssruler]

would they choose you over the world?

aether (traveler), dainsleif, scaramouche, raiden ei, lumine (abyss), venti, xiao x gn!reader

AETHER thinks he can save both, no, he knows he can. The powers of this world rests at the tips of his fingers. He’s faced monsters and gods and come out alive and better than he was before. There’s no reason to hesitate, none whatsoever to consider his decision but—but. He has never been made to choose before. There was always another way, another choice, another something he could rely on. It’s a moral dilemma, like the situation with the train where you either save five people and kill one person, or kill five people to save one person. It’s easy enough to answer when it was simply that—a moral dilemma created to confuse him, not a world ending decision that lies on his shoulders. To choose one is to doom the other. Most people would choose the world, but while Aether is called a hero and the savior of nations, he is also a person. He looks at your resigned smile, like you already know which one he’ll choose, and he decides to prove you wrong.

DAINSLEIF clings to loss like a dying man does to the edge of a cliff. The inevitability of death and your mortality rests on his shoulders much like weight of his entire nation’s death. He wonders what it says about him that he’d rather have you safe and sound than have the world be saved. Five hundred years of aimless wandering, fighting against the remnants of his fallen nation and watching the world move on while he remains untouched by time, the ghost of a past that can never be returned to. Dainsleif isn’t a hero, he’s tired. All that’s left of him are fading memories of a time gone by and moments with you that he clings to like a lifeline. What has this world ever done for him except cause him pain and needless grief? What has it done to deserve his sacrifice? Nothing. And so he rests, hand in hand with you on withering grass and waits for the world to end. At least, this time, he won’t be alone in watching the heavens descend.

SCARAMOUCHE laughs, and laughs, and laughs until he’s sure even the gods that reside in Celestia has heard the scorn and mockery in his voice. It is so laughably easy to choose you and denounce the world. Let it be turned to ash and dust, let his body dance on top of a desolate world, let him pull you in an embrace and delight in the fact that no sun and no light (for none of these exist anymore) would ever outmatch the brightness in your eyes, the smile on your face, the tinkling sound of your laughter amidst the remains of a world that once threatened to snuff your life like a candle left in the dark. He is like a flame and you, the spark. There’s a tsunami gathering on the horizon, threatening to drown everything in its wake, but instead of preventing it, he revels in the ruin it will bring. It is either your death alone or yours and everyone else, and if you have to die either way, then he will die with you and drag the rest of the world along in his self-appointed destruction. You taught him what it felt to no longer be alone, so he will make sure you’re never lonely, even in death.

EI feels weightless, like a leaf adrift in the wind. It feels like she is back to that moment five hundred (a thousand) years ago, a dilemma, a decision, a choice—follow Makoto to Khaenri’ah, or defend her people from the monsters ravaging the lands? There was uncertainty there, a small seedling of hope that she would arrive not far from Makoto and see her sister alive and waiting, and so she had made the decision to stay—but this? Faced with an ultimatum, the world or your death, Ei finds that the decision is much more difficult, much more devastating but no less heartbreaking. Had it been before, in her lonesome at the Plane of Euthymia, the choice would have been easy, barely a thought in her mind, but everything has changed and Ei wants, in a way she has never wanted before, to be with you. You with your smiles and your laughs and the warmth you induce in her frigid heart—and she finds that she cannot make a choice… so you do it for her. For the greater good.

LUMINE doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even flinch before she turns her back to the world and takes your hand. What good is the world if you’re not there in it? She won’t just stand by and watch as everything she holds dear is destroyed in front of her—not anymore. There is you, there is her, and there is the world burning, and Lumine finds that she can hardly care. Her heart has no place for faceless people, no love left for a world that has done nothing but spurn and trample on everything she had offered. Let it burn if it means having one more second, one more minute, one more lifetime with you. A choice isn’t truly a choice if the other option was never considered, and she will never consider a world without you. There are millions, billions, countless other worlds out there she could take you to. Damn this place, damn the heavens, and damn the consequences. Her brother would understand, he always has, and when Lumine meets him again in a new world, she’ll make sure to introduce you to him.

VENTI wants, like Icarus yearning for the Sun, but Venti is Venti, and Barbatos is Barbatos. Right now, he cannot afford to be that carefree bard who spun tales of your lovely hair and lovelier still lips (cannot be Icarus who flew too close to the sun and fell). Venti wants—but Barbatos knows the best option, the best choice, the least devastating one but the most heart-wrenching one. The situation is funny, laughable, hilarious, really, the kind that makes his stomach ache and brings tears to his eyes that drip down his cheeks and onto the ground and—oh, he’s crying. He’s crying and holding you close and apologizing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, doesn’t deserve the hand carding through his hair and the soft press of your lips on his forehead as you murmur, don’t cry, it’s alright, you’re doing the best you can. But the best means not doing this at all, the best means not having to make a choice at all, the best means not having to say goodbye. It’s okay, you tell him, I forgive you. But he never forgives himself.

XIAO thinks there must be another way, there has to be another way. He won’t accept this, won’t allow himself to choose between losing you or losing everything, because he knows, deep down, that the choice has already been made and it is not the one he wants. But he knows better than most that doing what he wants isn’t always what is needed, that certain sacrifices must be made despite his unwillingness, despite his entire body protesting against it. Rex Lapis once told him that being a god means making difficult decisions. If this is what it means to be a god, then he will accept a life of service, a life of war and fighting and breathing like every second is his last—because pain and suffering are infinitely better than having to wake everyday without your voice by his ear, giggling about how you finally caught him asleep. A world without your light, without your presence, without you is a desolate one. There must be another way, another sacrifice to be made that doesn’t involve you. Just—anything, anyone but you. Even if it has to be him.

#merry christmas <3 #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #aether x reader #dainsleif x reader #ei x reader #raiden ei x reader #raiden shogun x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #lumine x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #gn reader

[unformula1]

everything's falling apart (CL16 x reader)

everything’s falling apart (CL16 x reader)

part 2 (everything fell apart) | part 3 (everything's gone) series masterlist- everything (you're losing me)

synopsis: you can't find a pulse, your heart won’t start anymore. you and Charles’ relationship go downhill!

“I don’t understand!” Charles waves his hands in the air, infuriated.

“I know you don’t.” You say, holding back the tears threatening to spill out all at once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 1135

a/n: i sure do love some angst. was meant to be a ‘you’re losing me’ based fic but gave up on that lol!

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I love you.” Charles says.

“I love you too.” You reply, with a wide smile on your face.

Who knew how quickly that would fade, like a lost moment in time, gone with the wind. Within weeks of your newly found love (or so you thought), reality came crashing down, swinging at you in full force.

Love wasn’t easy.

It never was.

--------------------------------------------------

“You really cannot be expecting me to do all this.” Charles says, leaning on the couch.

“All I’m asking is you try to be nicer when talking to me.” You rephrase your thoughts for the millionth time.

“Why?”

“Because some of the things you say hurt like hell.”

“I thought you were a phoenix rising from the ashes.” He quotes you, almost mockingly.

“Well, I try.”

“Try harder.” He deadpans.

“What?”

“I try hard too. I try hard to get where I want in life. You’re expecting it to be served on a silver platter.” Charles says nonchalantly.

“I try really hard too.”

“To do what?”

“Get a career? Be the perfect love?”

“It isn’t working then.”

“What?”

“You’re jobless and a hopeless romantic.”

You hesitate responding, nothing comes out. You try saying something else, but it doesn’t want to be said. The cat’s got your tongue. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He scorns.

No. The words refuse to come out. A wave of sadness washes over you and you feel extremely horrible, your throat is getting clogged.

You would give everything for Charles.

-------------------------------------------------

“Are you ready?” Charles says coldly, adjusting the tie in the mirror.

“Yea.” You reply, putting on your rings and adjusting everything.

He turns to look at your outfit, giving it a really cold glare.

“What? Is it not nice?” You worriedly ask.

“Change.” He doesn’t answer your question.

“What? But I like this-”

“Change… now.” He says, pointing to the closet.

“Why?”

You didn’t know why Charles was being so rude about it; it wasn’t like him, but he’s changed, so what even is ‘him’ anymore? 

You and Charles stare into each other's eyes, his eyes cold and unreadable, as if he never wanted to be here. You look at him, not breaking any eye contact whatsoever.

“You have to change.” He says, sounding a bit more agitated this time.

“Why?” You repeat, increasing in frustration as well.

“Just please, go-” He says, looking away, his fingers rubbing his forehead.

“I won’t. I like this.” You stand your ground unlike most other times. You’re done with this. You’re not going to be pushed around.

“It’s… because… this outfit has too much… skin showing.” He says unconvincingly, “People will do weird things.”

Bullshit.

You look at the time, you two are already on track to being late to the most important event of both of your lives. After a long pause, a sigh, you change out and quickly put on another outfit. 

You hate this. You were supposed to stand your ground, but here you were, giving in again.

You would give everything for Charles.

But would he give you everything?

-------------------------------------------------

“I don’t understand!” Charles waves his hands in the air, infuriated.

“I know you don’t.” You say, holding back the tears threatening to spill out all at once.

Both of you stand in the living room with a fair distance in between you two, it’s ironic, how much you loved this room. The warm orange-yellow light latched onto the wall was turned on behind him and it made him glow as if he was in the evening sun . You used to love it, seeing him smile while the light made him glow. He was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Now, there’s nothing perfect or beautiful about this. The light made him flash an angry glow, painfully dark red. His eyes glowed in fury, the lights made it ever so obvious. 

“Mon Dieu!” He says, throwing himself onto the couch, “I think you’re being dramatic.”

You might’ve bothered listening to what he had to say, if he didn’t proceed with a loud, disgruntled sigh and burying his face in his hands, letting out more grunts.

You’re done with this.

You turn around and storm into your room. It’s dark. You don’t bother turning the lights on and just sit on the edge of your bed. The tears start streaming down. 

It’s dark. It’s cold.

His hands wrap around your body, filling it with warmth. The tears don’t slow down, still streaming. He hugs you tightly, holding you in.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your ear, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“I’m really sorry.” He says again, much softer this time. You feel his warm breath on your skin.

He continues hugging you tightly, keeping you within his embrace as you sob quietly.

“I didn’t mean it.” He says again for the 100th time.

Does he mean it?

You don’t know and it’s eating at you. He says this all the time after every single one of his outbursts. The pain doesn’t go away, it never does. He could hug you and shower you with gifts but the ‘you’re useless’ and ‘you’re being dramatic’ never leaves you. 

He’s sorry.

But is he?

-------------------------------------------------

“Again?” You ask, trying to give off a little bit of disappointment.

“Yes. Again.” Charles says, adjusting his suit.

“You’re going out again? For the fifth time this week?” You ask, attempting to bring across a point.

“Your point?” He shoots it down almost instantly.

“Stay at home? Maybe spend time with me?” 

“I see you all the time. I see these people too little, I’m seeing them more.” Charles says.

“Yea but-”

“It’s a special time for me.”

“I know… it’s just I was hoping we could spend some time together.”

“Next time.”

“But-”

“I promise.”

“Fine…” You reluctantly say.

“Call me if you need.” 

He says and gives you a quick smile before kissing you on the cheek.

You love Charles. You really do, but lately it’s disappearing. It’s fading. 

You can’t lie to yourself anymore, this definitely isn’t going to work out and there’s only a matter of time before your relationship implodes, but you love him so much, you can’t let him go… not yet.

You love Charles.

You’re on borrowed time.

He doesn’t love you back.

It hurts. Your heart and mind conflict, you would never think in a million years you’d have to be thinking about this. Charles was supposed to be your prince charming, your Mr Perfect, your everything but here you were, on the brink of tears because of him.

------------------------------------------------

You needed someone right now, maybe to come over and hang out with you. Someone to share your sorrows with or someone to cry on; seeing as Charles had no intent of giving you the necessary attention, you turned to your next best source.

“Hi.” He finally picked up.

“Hi Arthur.”

#f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #angst #f1 angst #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #scuderia ferrari #cl16 #not beta read #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 angst #arthur leclerc

[call-sign-shark]

Hi Shark 💓 I saw your post with the three word sentences and I'd like to request 6. "Be gentle, please." with Tommy. If you're more comfortable with writing for a different character then you're obviously free to do so! 🥰

Hi Daisy! Here we go dear 🥰 Finger crossed, I hope you'll enjoy that Tommy x Reader blurb! Honestly, I really enjoyed writing it.

Words: 993

TW: Smut content but no actual pornographic descriptions, mentions of murder, ambiguous ending (the ending is up to you), reader is nicknamed Hera.

Fire spread under your skin as his strong and calloused hands ran down your naked back to grab your hips in a bruising grip. How did you end up here, laying on the giant fur carpet in front of a fire place with Birmingham’s most infamous gangster touching you? The question had been playing on repeat in your buzzing skull the moment he had laid his fingers on you. A feverish sigh escaped from your quivering lips when Tommy’s hips crashed against yours. The wet caress of his tongue left goosebumps in its trail each time you would feel it on the sensitive flesh of your bosom. It was like the dancing flames of the fireplace, whose hungry tongues of blaze licked the logs that were feeding them until all remained was ashes. You clenched your fist in his dark hair, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back at ocean of pleasure that was drowning you each time his hips moved. As you made love in his living room, the melody of your sighs and flesh snapping filling the room and swirling up to the ceiling, you still tried to gather all your remaining strength to hang on the reason behind your meeting.

“Hera…” He moaned against your breasts, the vibrations of his hoarse voice echoing in your whole ribcage and shattering your bones in a sensual earthquake. Your toes curled as his pace, slow and gentle at first, quickened. Lost in a maze of feelings and lust, your hand left his hair and joined the other one on his broad and muscular back.

“Deeper.” You hissed through your teeth as your nails dug in his skin and pierced his flesh. Your voice, eternally collected, was now shaken by a light tremor you hated to hear. You sounded begging. You sounded desperate. You sounded weak. And only God knew how you despised weakness. Well, not only God but also Luca Changretta, to be true. When the godfather of the American branch of the Sicilian mafia took you under his protective wing, he called you Hera — queen of gods, and furious dishonored wife of a monster. Besides him and a few capo, no one knew where you came from and why Changretta had a soft spot for you. Yet, the story behind your relationship was tragic.

He saw you one dreary summer night, crying outside of the church in your magnificent white dress stained with little crimson droplets. From what he had understand, you had caught your future husband cheating the day of your wedding and he was so enraged you found out about his secret affairs that he had beaten you until your legs collapsed and until your body was black and blue. When Luca Changretta cupped your face and laid a protective kiss on your forehead, he made you a promise: no other men would hurt you again, for he would make the most terrifying and beautiful monster out of you. Luca dived in your eyes and smiled, and as he did Y/N vanished in the aid of this new fierce entity that was now inhabiting you.They said Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and how right they were.

“Fuck —“ Tommy swore, at the edge of climax. All of his muscles tensed under the coiling and maddening pleasure that was consuming him — but Thomas Shelby was as stubborn as you were, and he hated to show any sign of weakness even more than you. That was why he choked his moans against your mouth and let his tongue force its way between your juicy lips. You scratched his back in response, small beads of blood darkening your nails. His pace was now frantic and brutal, turning your love making into more a battle than anything else. Sex was a fight you were both fiercely decided to win. But if Tommy had the rage of winning, you had the disgust of losing.

“Let it go, little boy…” You whispered against his mouth, waving your hips like a dancing succubus willing to milk him from his life. Your victory became evident as you felt Tommy’s legs shaking. He sunk his teeth in your lower lip and growled like an animal as he gave in — blown away by the fiery blaze of his little death, the gangster felt tears dawning at the corner of his turquoise eyes when he came. The burning sensation was so unbearable at some point he thought he was in hell. But was it really hell if he liked the way it burned?

You smirked, enjoying the end of the war you’ve just won.

Tommy and you were now sharing a cigarette, both naked and sitting on the comfortable rug while watching the dying flames that were flickering in the hearth. But despite the doubt that had started to plague your cold mind, you mentally repeated the mantra you lived by for years: You have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind… And your goal was to murder Tommy Shelby.

Why?

Because you were the most terrifying and skilled hitman of America, and someone had paid you to kill him.

And you were heartless.

You had not always been like this though… But the young eighteen years old crying princessa Changretta had almost raised had met the same demise as her savior: she was no longer alive. All remained was the still smoking ashes of a maimed heart and an empty body only animated by pure anger.

Tommy had barely stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray nearby when you pressed the cold blade of your knife against the fragile flesh of his throat. Yet, he did not seem surprised. Nor afraid. Quite the contrary, Thomas Shelby was tired. Just… Tired. He looked at you, his sky blue eyes staring into the void that constituted yours, and parted his lips to speak.

“Be gentle, please.”

That was all he said.

Somehow, he did not mind to die if the last embrace given to him was soft — even if it came from Death herself. You could kill him, it did not matter anymore, as long as you were as no one else since Grace had been with him: gentle.

You pulled him in your arms, hugging his exhausted frame in a final clasp, and tightened your grip around the knife.

Fine, you thought, I’ll be gentle then.

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby smut #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #peaky blinders x y/n

[thoughtless-muse]

“scout’s honor,” [series]

|| daryl dixon x fem!reader

SUMMARY: daryl dixon was everything you despised in a man: rude, unkempt, derisive, scornful and unarticulated. yet, daryl dixon was also everything you craved in a man: mysterious, rugged, self-sufficient, masculine, aloof, and much older than yourself. it was the worst sort of enigma to place yourself in, especially during the throes of a damn apocalypse – and yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail to try and get closer to the man who hadn’t even bothered to tell you his name himself.

GENRES: angst, romance, fluff, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, smut

RATING: 18+, adult only

C/W: ricks!sister!reader, fem!reader, typical TWD violence/gore, slow-burn, grief, depression, unsettling themes, blood, injuries, trauma, alcohol/alcoholism, tobacco use, language, explicit sexual content, allusions/brief attempts at SA, suspense, more to be added

TOTAL CHAPTERS: 2/?

CURRENT WORDCOUNT: 7.8k

TOTAL WORDCOUNT: to be determined…

A/N: this series is going to closely follow the structure of the show, but will have minor and major adjustments to the events. I’m not sure how far I’m going to take this little series, though I do know that I’ll be spending quite a bit of time in seasons one and two, and I have plans to venture into the further seasons as well (I currently just started the 8th season). I hope you all can enjoy this adventure with me!

prologue: start of doomsday

chapter one: dislocated introductions

chapter two: buy me a drink, then we’ll talk history

chapter three: shane walsh is a grade-a dickbag

chapter four: back from the dead

chapter five: the city to ash, a full speed dash

[note: these titles are not hyperlinked because the installments are yet to come. I’m working on the drafts at the moment, and they will be posted in order once finished.] [more to come]

#daryl x reader #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd

[tytarax]

Lost and Found

Request by: @brethebomb2

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x GN!Reader x Bakugou Katsuki

Genre: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of injury and memory loss, angst, eventual happy ending.

Word count: IDK, a lot

I literally cried writing this...

---

The air in the room was thick with tension, a palpable pressure that seemed ready to burst at any moment. Kirishima stood with clenched fists, his normally bright demeanor overshadowed by a deep frown. Bakugou, on the other hand, was seething, his explosive temper barely contained as he glared daggers at the other two.

"You can't keep doing this!" Kirishima's voice was low, but there was an edge to it that spoke of his frustration. "You can't keep pushing us away every time something goes wrong!"

You, caught in the middle of the argument, looked between them with tears in your eyes. "I'm not pushing anyone away," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I just need some time to think."

Bakugou scoffed, his expression scornful. "Think about what? About leaving us? Is that it?"

"No, Katsuki, that's not it at all!" Your voice rose in desperation. "I just... I need to figure things out. I need to understand what I want."

"And what about what we want?" Kirishima's voice was pained, his eyes pleading. "Don't we deserve a say in this too?"

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. You felt trapped, torn between your love for Kirishima and Bakugou and the uncertainty that plagued your heart.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Bakugou exploded. "Fine! If you need to figure things out so badly, do it on your own!" he snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. "We don't need you dragging us down with your indecision!"

You flinched, the words hitting them like a physical blow. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you watched Bakugou storm out of the room, leaving them alone with Kirishima.

Kirishima sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "He didn't mean that," he said softly, reaching out to cup your cheek. "He's just... scared. We both are."

You were waiting for a hug from your big teddy bear boyfriend... but instead of pulling you into one, Kirishima hesitated. His eyes flickered towards the door, where Bakugou had disappeared, and then back to the reader.

"I... I need to go after him," Kirishima said, his voice strained. "Give us some time... and space."

.

.

.

The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beep of machines monitoring your vital signs. Eijiro sat by your bedside, his usual bright demeanor overshadowed by worry. Katsuki stood nearby, his arms crossed, a deep frown etched into his face. He arrived an hour before Eijiro did.

"How are they?" Bakugou asked, his voice low.

Kirishima sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Physically, she's stable. But mentally... I don't know if they're okay, Katsuki."

Bakugou's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching. "What do you mean?"

"Just that," Kirishima explained. "The doctors said they were hit very hard in their head, and they won't know if something happened until they wake up"

Bakugou's expression softened, a mix of concern and confusion. "Is there anything we can do?"

Kirishima shook his head. "They said we just have to wait."

.

You opened your eyes slowly, being blinded by the harsh lights of the hospital. You tried to move, but you felt a grip on one of your hands and a pressure on your chest. You looked to the side and saw an ash-blonde boy holding your hand, he was asleep. And on your chest rested the head of a red-haired boy, also asleep, with a little drool coming out of his mouth.

"Where... am I? What happened?" You asked confused.

Out of nowhere, both boys opened their eyes quickly, scaring you.

"Hon! I'm glad you're okay! You have no idea how worried we were" The redhead told you while the blonde looked at you in silence.

"Love? What are you talking about? Who are you?" You asked.

"You sure ask strange things, baby." The red hair answered you again.

"I'm serious, who are you?" You asked, now a little more alarmed.

"Enough! If this is revenge for our argument this morning, that's enough, don't scare us like that!" Finally the blonde shouted.

"The ones who are scaring me are you. I just woke up and I have no idea where I am, what happened, or who the hell you are!" Thanks to the commotion, the doctor in charge of you quickly entered the room, silencing everyone.

"Hello, ____. Let me introduce myself, I am Dr. Yosano" The doctor interrupted.

"Dr, what happened?" You asked a little more calmly.

"Well, you suffered a severe blow to the head… erm… could you excuse us for a moment? I have to ask them some questions," he said, addressing the two boys.

After what? 30 minutes maybe? The doctor came to the waiting room. Katsuki was resting his head on Eijiro's shoulder while he had his eyes red and sore from crying.

The two boys got up and approached him.

"Doctor, what's wrong with ____?" Kirishima asked.

"I'm afraid... your partner is suffering from temporary global amnesia after the blow they received on the mission." The doctor answered looking at some papers "This means that ____ will be unable to generate new memories, so the memory of the latest events disappears. They can't remember where they are or how they got here. They do remember they are pro heroes, tho. But I'm afraid they do not remember who you are. Which is weird considering you have been together for a considerable time"

"That's not... permanent, right?" Katsuki asked.

"Luckily not. This type of amnesia is temporary... what is uncertain," The doctor looked at both of them "is when they will recover their memory."

Kirishima was holding back his tears. "Is there something we can do?"

"Well, as I tell you, it's uncertain when they'll recover their memory. But one way to speed up the process is to take them to familiar places, where you've been through things together." The doctor said "At the moment, you should enter and present yourselves"

"You're right... thanks, doctor, for everything" Kirishima said as he reached for Katsuki's hand. "Let's go Kats"

---

Days turned into weeks, but your memories remained lost. Kirishima and Bakugou tried everything they could think of to jog your memory. They showed you photos, told you stories, and took you to places you used to frequent together. But nothing seemed to work.

"This is where we confessed to each other..."

"You really enjoyed the Christmas night we came to this cat café"

"Some days later we had our first time together here"

Those were the kind of things they mentioned to you, but... nothing came to mind.

One day, while out on a walk, trying to clear your mind, you encountered Hawks, another pro hero. He greeted you warmly, but you barely registered his presence. Something about him, though, sparked a flicker of recognition deep within you.

"Hey ____, how are you doing? Long time no seen." He said and was taken aback when you stared blankly at him, with a bit of confusion.

"I'm sorry, I was told I had an accident, and now I have temporary memory loss," You said explaining yourself.

"Oh boy... that's rough, how could someone forget me," He said exaggerating his tone, causing you to giggle. "Well then, I'm Hawks or Keigo Takami, and I'm one of your sidekicks"

As days passed, you found yourself drawn to Keigo's company. His kindness and unwavering optimism were comforting in a way you couldn't explain. Kirishima and Bakugou noticed the change in your behavior, and it didn't sit well with them.

"We used to be so close," Kirishima lamented one evening, sitting with Bakugou in your now not shared room. "Now, it's like she's a completely different person."

Bakugou clenched his jaw, his fists trembling with suppressed emotion. "I won't give up on her, Eijiro. I can't."

One day, you told Kirishima and Bakugou you were going to hang out with Keigo. As you sat with him in a café, eating something and chatting, you saw Kirishima approaching with a determined look in his eyes.

"____, can we talk?" Kirishima asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

You glanced at Keigo, who gave you a smile. "Go ahead, I'll be right here," he said.

Kirishima led you to a secluded spot, away from prying eyes. "I know you don't remember, but we..." he began, his voice wavering slightly. "We were a team, you, me, and Katsuki. We fought together, laughed together, cried together. We were... family... And now, without you... we're lost. Kats wasted a lot of weight... he's just not right, the day of the accident we had an argument and he was not able to say he was sorry..."

You listened intently, a pang of guilt tugging at your heart. "I'm sorry, Kirishima. I wish I could remember, but I just... can't."

Kirishima sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand. I just... I miss you, ____. We both do."

Back in Kirishima's and Bakugou's room, Katsuki sat alone, lost in his thoughts. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not after everything you'd been through together. Determined to remind you of the bond you shared, he began to gather photos and mementos from your past adventures.

"Please, ____, remember," he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. "Remember us."

Days passed, and still, your memories remained lost. Kirishima and Bakugou were running out of ideas, but they refused to give up hope. One evening, you were walking through the streets, and a familiar voice called out to you.

"(Y/N), wait!"

You turned to see Bakugou running towards you. "I-I have something to show you," he said, slightly out of breath.

Curiosity piqued, you followed Bakugou to his house courtyard. There, he had set up a makeshift projector, displaying chronologically organized photos of your entire life.

When you were a little baby in your parents' arms, you with your kinder-garden uniform, the day you discovered your quirk, the first day in UA, all your friends, the prom day, your closeness to both Katsuki and Kirishima, the vacation you had together in which you all confesed, the Christmas night, some kinda embarrasing pics Kats took after a night of pure passion...

As you watched, little scenes of your life together started flowing back.

"This is where we confessed to each other..." The hicking day...

"You really enjoyed the Christmas night we came to this cat café" We went to see the Christmas tree that night...

"Some days later we had our first time together here" That stormy night in the cabin...

"I remember...," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I remember you both."

Kirishima and Bakugou pulled you into a tight hug, relief and joy washing over them. "We missed you, ____," Kirishima said, his voice choked with emotion.

"I missed you too," you replied, burying your face in Bakugou's chest. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm the one who's sorry... but, just... promise you won't forget us again," Bakugou said, his voice gentle.

"I promise"

Masterlist

Requests open!

#kiribaku x reader #kirishima x bakugou #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #bakushima #xreader #fanfic #fem reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #trends

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* ┗━━━ ━━━┛ He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ┏━━━ ━━━┓ Quotes - Pushkin, Fyodor Tyutchev, Dostoyevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings - heavy ANGST, some fluff Words - 3000

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Song ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Eventually

Did i cry from my own fic? Yes? ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

4 years ago Bucky’s triggers words were present more than anything, anyone else in his life. Beneath the sheet of gleaming snow, his human-self slept for decades, frozen in time. And everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories : all of Winter’s footprints are effaced by her love, the waves of fury are at peace – she is his homeland shores, grounding his soul like an anchor. „Ah, my last love! Thou art both bliss and pain. And joy - and hopelessness-“ Bucky moves to sit next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her and pulls her in close until his head rests on her shoulder. „Doll, what are you quoting?“ he squints his eyes, quotes always brush against the edge of his curiosity, before taking a peek at her book. „My last love; Fyodor Tyutchev“ she proclaims, hardly attempting to hide her growing smirk. „Am I your last love?“ He drawls, a bit of sarcasm touching his tone, but he feels the seed of doubt embed in his heart at his own words echoes in his head. She just giggles, looking at him with glittering eyes, not moving from her comfortable repose. „Of course, Bucky“ She smiles and nods, before turning her gaze to the book once again, rolling the paper sheet between her fingers and gazing at it thoughtfully. „Read me more, I want to hear more“ he mumbles after completing an impressive yawn. He adjusts his position to get more comfortable on the couch as she continues to read, with his head on her lap. His soul is a wounded dove, it has a painful, longing call. A flying bird about to fall, that was poisoned, festered with the past…and now Bucky is surrendering in her embrace, and quietly drinks the healing rays of poem; of poetry - drinking mouthfuls from this healing light, her light – finally seeing the world bright and complete. "It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!” ― Dostoyevsky 3 years ago „Snow, frost and sunshine ... Lovely morning! Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning, Are still abed ... Awake my sweet!“ Suddenly her voice sounds in the nothing of the night. Though no louder than falling snow, it cuts across the emptiness, so shocking in the endless silence that the words seem craved into his mind, crackle of emotions infuses the void of his soul after the nightmare. „Winter morning, Pushkin. Why do you always read me that when I have nightmares, doll?“ he feels an oppressive weight settling over him. „Because after a raging snowstorm, a lovely morning always follows, Bucky“ „Yeah, because you are the sunshine in my mornings“ He burbles out a delirious giggle as sweat streams down his face. Having her in his life is a kiss-inspired dream, he needs to touch her to make sure she is real. With his shoulders squared and his body tenses from the unknown reality, his hand gently outstretches to her face. She responds by inching impossibly closer into his palm with sliver of softness in her eyes. She is real.

2 years ago Nature is an artist as it strokes swiftly a winter wonderland. But now, wretches, every drop of blood — don't stain the innocent snow. The scene is set, exquisitely divine — snow always pluck the vibrating strings of Bucky's mind, but her voice is enough to make his worries melt away. Sometimes they talk of the past where еre any roamed or died. They talk of old times when Winter only meant death and not Christmas chimes. There is no wind to speak of, more an icy winter chill outside; because If he wants to overcome the whole world, he needs to overcome himself so they go for a walk to the park, snow crunching beneath their feet. Their hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of his past — hanging by a string, loosely holding him from collapsing. And she knows when thoughts are tossing him around, bathing in his blood — so she chooses to speak.

„I still remember that amazing moment. When you appeared before my sight. As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light.“

„Doll, I really think that you love Pushkin more than me“ „I remember reading him for the first time, it was so romantic“ „You are telling me that meeting me was not romantic?“ „Sometimes I just imagine meeting you in a café, far away from here - I imagine that nothing bad has happened to you, Bucky. Sometimes I wish you didn’t remember the past.“ And this is what Bucky learns now: that her love is an antidote to his worries, always, that stands within this otherness of the world, of nature — the beauty and the mystery of the Winter season, out in the fields or deep inside their favorite books at home — both those activities, her ideas; are re-dignifying his worst-stung soul. He doesn’t need to fight darkness. Bring the light, and darkness will disappear, she is his light. She uses his moment of distraction to move away and makes a small ball of snow and throws it right at his nose. „I was thinki-“ Bucky shouts as he wipes the snow from his face. She has the audacity to laugh as he removes the snow, and he decides to chase her. Bucky easily tackles her into the snow, putting his arm around her to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in the fall, faces very close together. „Now, this is romantic, Bucky“ He nodes his head, speechless still. To heal is to touch with love that which was previously touched by Hydra.

Present „How are you holding, Buck?“ „I’ve lived too long with the pain, I won’t know who am I without it“ „You still quote stuff just like you did with her, Buck. Why don’t you talk to her, she is still recovering I talked with her today“ „She doesn’t remember anything, I want her to move on“ his inquisitiveness nearly outweighed his reluctance to talking to Sam about it, attempting to simmer the flames of the protective nature over her. „She might remember, she needs time, Buck-“ Sam pressures him with a challenging look that he more than gladly returns. Bucky considers the proposal and the fact that Sam is giving him a guarded expression that seems so hopeful, followed by a slight nod of his head before speaking.

„The time I spend at Wakanda, with Shiru- I’ve decided to go with the procedure. I can’t trust my mind unless they restart my bra-“ „You can’t-“ Bucky rises from the chair and is halfway to the door of Sam’s house when he turns and says „Enough, Sam, please“

Bucky has fond a peace in nature which was irreplaceable once; he steps outside looking at the colorful sunset. The sun is out, but he is cold, eyes are wild, but the mind is asleep, the world is alive, but Bucky has dead. Nature is love, nature reminds him of her, but he is aloof of everything that screams live for today — he died the moment he woke up to her laying in the white sheets. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Flowers will grow back after he stepped on then and maybe in a less miserable times they may see each other again — all his grief says the same things „this is not how it’s supposed to be“ and the world laughs and holds at his hope by the throat „but this is how it is“ The final turn is that. Oh, how strongly grabs them, the secret plot of fate and everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories: all of Bucky’s footprints of love are effaced by Winter, the waves of fury are not at peace – no longer is there a homeland shore, no longer someone grounds his lost soul like an anchor.

The sadness won’t last forever, he won’t be able to remember it and for the last time Bucky goes to sleep so he could see her in his dreams for the last time – she taught him everything except to how to live without her – the present feels like the past. It’s a fitting punishment for a monster to want something so much, to hold it in his arms and know beyond a doubt that he never deserved it, that he ruined it – his soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly shallows him whole –  Bucky is too gone to be healed – he almost robbed her of her life. Now, she will carry the scars forever, but he selfishly remembers their love, there was love and it was theirs. Bucky was too deeply afraid to face her, that the moment their eyes meet and she finds herself staring at a stranger and he will realize that he has become a person she no longer recognizes – he stares at the poem she left for him, it makes him smile, because it reminded him of him and her; of what they used to do – James doesn’t want this to be the end of the chapter but it is – it’s the end of the line for love – nothing ever ends poetically he realizes end and his trust to poetry, it was not beautiful – it was just pain. He performs autopsies on their conversations long ago – he can to lie Sam, but he can’t lie to the hole deep inside – he lets himself cry, it’s better than feeling nothing at – wearing her shirt, because it’s still smells like her, but it will soon fade like his memories of her, of everything, erased forever. How can he live with a conscience that suffers whilst acknowledging his sin; with the memory of knowing she left this poem behind, thinking she would die from his own hands? ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥ I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly, I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you As tenderly and truthfully as I. Your sincerely, your Doll ◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

„Excuse me for interrupting, but I just saw that you are reading `The Brothers Karamazov` and couldn’t resist coming to talk to you“ a calm voice cut through the silence. „Oh, I just wanted to reread it- you can sit with me“ She has a thoughtful look on her face, heart shattering into so many tiny fragments that it is hard to speak, it leaves her incredulously blinking when she sees his blue eyes eerily crystalline. She only heard about him in periodic whispers over the mouths, hearing about his recovery and adjustment to life all over again.   She never intended to stay long, but she does because it is peaceful and she is not in a rush to leave, but his presence is overwhelming, feeling the presence of eternal harmony, fully achieved just like before. „I need to go for work, it was nice meeting you“   She senses that she should be following a different path, a path where their lines don’t cross. It is too much, she can barely breathes. There is a furious discontent from a moment, which verged on loathing; for her to have all of her memories and for him to be just a stranger taking interest in her book. This inexhaustible fantasy of them meeting again, of them reading books again – she needs to get out here of here, but then Bucky speaks and it’s impossible to smash the idea of them being together into splinters and turn it to dust – his eyes are the ocean, all flows and connects when their eyes meet. „Wait, can I get your number?“ he whispers from beside her, worry clear on his face at her sudden urge to go. He continues to stare intently into her eyes, waiting for their gazes to meet again and he feels his heartbeat speeding up.  „Oh?“ Bucky almost chokes on the air as she turns around to face him, not responding with any words. She just furrows her eyebrows slightly. And it hurts so good that its Bucky’s own free unfettered choice to ask her, to come speak with her. „I want to buy you a book“ his blue eyes trail from her eyes, to her lips thinking about how gorgeous this girl is. She is not sure which is worse – the intense feeling of him being here, or the absence of his previous love for her. Maybe it will be worse if she doesn’t let herself be part of his new life. She is too afraid of giving herself to someone she might lose again, she is too afraid that Winter might come again. Her loyalty to his past, to keeping it a secret its want cost her the most and she needs to bare all of her sins all over again, to keep a secret. „You don’t want to take me on a date?“ she questions while watching him with an amused gaze. „Yeah, yeah – I want to do that, too“ he responses with uncertainty laced in his voice, trying to hide a nervous laugh between closed lips. “You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again” „Is that a quote?“ he shrugged, looking startled. „Yeah, it’s from the book, James“ „How do you know my name?“ it is a tormenting thought that refuses to take shape, not even sure if he wants to know the explanation behind this. “I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer” Her eyes get a little teary, but she's quick to put a lid on her emotions, it is overwhelming that he doesn’t remember any of her favorite quotes, of the quotes she used to tell him. „Where is that from?“ „Idiot“ „Excuse me?“ „The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky“ she hesitatingly looks at him, he is already looking at her with those ocean blue orbits that hold so much kindness, curiosity, just as they used to. „Oh…that was clever, I will give you that“ he laughs to himself, shoulders shaking with humor. „And I will give you my number“ „Really?“ „No“ “We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken”

„That is from Crime and Punishment“ she purposely tries to add amusement to her voice, trying to appear as this has never happened before. She is frozen, words caught in her throat. „Yeah.“ He licks his bottom nervously. "O-okay, I will give you my number"

An invisible thread ties them together – the pull the drag deep inside beneath her skin, the heavy gravity of him. She loved him enough to spend forever waiting, no amount of time is ever enough and even one day if forever runs out, she will be fine, because it’s her decision waiting for Bucky, getting to love him all over again. To exist with him is her greatest privilege and pain – but he has settled into the depth of her soul because, she has found what she loves and it almost killed her – the thought of him forgetting her terrified her before, but it probably terrified him too before his mind was fully reset – she searches for quotes which remind her of them, but he probably did too. This time she is learning him slowly, taking her time; in no rush with her love – there are oceans in James’ eyes and when she looks at them, both emotions and memories hit me waves. Sometimes she wants to scream so loud that the ground trembles, there is so much fear and grief within her that she is decaying from the inside out and there is no one to help me but herself. She needs to stay silent, need to be here for him once again – she loved him and will love parts of him that are not easy to love, turning the pages gently and helping him re-write a happy ending to his narrative. She has loved none, but him and it cuts her soul a million times just to form a constellation to light his way home – angry and half in love with the new him and tremendously sorry for how it turned out for them – it’s not a metaphor, this ache, this fear of Winter all over – but all Bucky’s life was grey before meeting her one day at the café. He brushes up against pink and the barest touch and - the rest of his life is green again, green like Spring. He doesn’t know who he is and the cycle begins again – he pierces her soul ,she is half agony and half love – Bucky is too tangled there, finding his way back to her unknowingly.

And that’s how Bucky imagines it, meeting her all over again after his procedure - in a café, far away from here - he imagines that nothing bad has happened to her. Sometimes he wishes he was just Bucky, sometimes he wishes that the past has never happens - sorrow compresses his heart. His grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy of that daydream. Her memories never returned. Bucky’s memories were deleted successfully. They never met again. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Tag list⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ @dear-lolita @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @montyrokz @sarah5462 @mooievis @almosttoopizza @midnightramyeoncravings @itsmadamehydra @ravenromanoff @beetlejuicesupremacy @queenashen @kandis-mom @whitexwolfxx310 @msoldier @venting402 @avery199 @pandabearrrrrrr @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @tokoyamisstuff @happinessinthebeing

“The most monstrous monster is the monster with noble feelings” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Eternal Husband

#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x y/n #bucky x y/n #winter solider imagine #bucky imagine #heavy angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x f #bucky x you #bucky x female yn #bucky x f!reader

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Adler Snippet~

{Author's Note} I sent this to @littlemissclandestine earlier and thought I'd post it here as well to see what people thought! I love writing Adler's inner thoughts and feelings when it comes to being vulnerable with a partner so please let me know what you guys think and write your own ideas in the comments below because I'd love to hear them! Hope you enjoy🫶🏻 (Also tagging @alypink because she has been hugely supportive of my stuff, which I am super grateful for so go check out her art and writing❤️)

‼️Content Warning: swearing‼️

Adler watched her walk away, unable to tear his gaze from her retreating form. Her words turned over and over in his head, and he cursed himself for letting his tongue take charge before he could think through a proper answer. 

He took one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the ground, his boot grinding angrily into the ash. “Dammit,” he muttered. 

She’d taken a chance with him and he’d repaid it with scorn. She’d wanted honesty and humanity, but he’d thrown up another shield to hide behind. Because he couldn’t let her inside, not with the blood that coated the walls and stained his skin. She deserved far better than him, he knew that. It hurt, but he knew she deserved a man who offered safety and stability. Not a borderline psychotic agent who had been dubbed America’s Monster.

But she’d apparently seen something beneath all that monstrosity, something worth salvaging, something beyond the insane dedication to his job. It was a selfish desire that he’d smothered long before she’d come along and unknowingly nurtured it back to life. 

Adler wanted to yell and blame her for planting that seed of hope in him again, for bringing back that humanity that he’d managed to crush. Hope meant pain and fear, but it also meant love and possibility. That’s why he’d crushed it, his ability to hope, precisely because of the danger it presented. Even now, as it began picking away at the walls he’d erected, sneaking in between the cracks, he was desperately beating it back. But it was no use. It had already lodged itself in deep enough to hurt. 

#Ren's writing #mine mine mine #russell adler #russell adler x reader #call of duty black ops cold war #cod bocw #call of duty #cod

[b1u3butt3rf1yanim3cart00ngirl22]

(I found it from DeviantArt! 💕)

My Miraculous Ladybug's Felinette Fanfic Recs I love

*A03*

1) The Sad and Broken by Dull_Rainbow

Summary: They broke her. Completely destroyed her. For weeks she let them bully her, throw their snide comments, and over all let them tear her down. Well no more. Because there was nothing left the broken. She was done. Done with everything her so called 'friends" did to her, done with being in love with Adrien, she was just done. She was leaving and never coming back. Will the new people in her life and perhaps a new love interest be able to fix her broken heart? Or will she forever be trapped in her broken fairytale?

2) The Burning by FandomQueenliness

Summary: The day Adrien confessed to cheating on Marinette, their lives burned down around them, and in the ashes, their friends and family must piece together the broken shards of what they once knew.

3) Felinette. Nothing Bad Ever Happens to Me by bumblebeug (Madsmadsmads)

Summary: During a seeming break from Hawkmoth and after being moved to the back, Marinette becomes seat-mates with recent transfer from England Felix Culpa.

4) Kore Complex by SmittenVixen13

Summary: Marinette is done being beaten down and treated like she didn't matter! She was She was proud. She was confident. She was Marinette! No pathetic Liar, spineless crush, or idiotic classmates were going to get to her!

Transferring schools is new and terrifying, but with new friends and new found confidence, she will conquer anything! Love, blooming friendships, and mysterious new heroes await her!

5) New Friends by StarShine583

Summary: A Felinette story from Tumblr!

6) The Scorned by Snow_Leopard_777

Summary: In a world where Chameleon targeted Marinette first, where only Chloe and Nino stood in her defense, Madame Bustier's class turned against their everyday Ladybug. As the girl begins to shut down, her teacher holds her after class with a suggestion…

What do you think about transfers?

With her family on her side (as well as Papillon and Mayura), can she really leave François-DuPont behind, or will her time there haunt her as she tries to make new friends?

7) Don't Mess With Jagged Stones Favorite Niece by HoneyDewLove

Summary: Marinette is getting fed up with Lie-la and watching the people she thought were her best friends turn on her.

With the help of some new friends and the new student, she makes a plan to unravel all her lies.

Luckily, she's also got an Uncle willing to do anything to help take down his favorite little lady's bully and the daughter of the mayor on her side.

And it just so seems that a few little gods seem to want in on the plan.

8) Neglect Me No More by Gingergrowl

Summary: After months of neglect from her friends, Marinette decides to transfer schools. These so-called friends of hers have made her an emotionless shell of who she once was.

Marinette's days of neglect slowly begin to change when she meets a cold-hearted boy named Felix Graham de Vanily. Together, they begin to change each other for the better, making new friends and enemies along the way.

Little do they know, that this fateful meeting will impact Paris and the miraculous in ways big and small.

9) New School, New Friends by KittyNoir666

Summary: Marinette has reached her breaking point all thanks to Adrien. So she transfers to a new school and makes new friends. But with her old friends being who they were who will be able to pick up the slack of the previous heroes.

10) Begin Again by Kanzakura

Summary: Marinette's life had started to become miserable. Lila had managed to turn many of her friends against her, Chat had started to become clingy, and Marinette was slowly feeling herself crumble to stress. So when she finds out that she get's to transfer to a different school for Lycree, she's overjoyed. Only, there's a catch, and it wasn't one she was expecting.

11) Coffee Breath by dreamdarkdreams (orphan_account)

Summary: Felix's day started out normally. Then the prettiest girl he had ever seen entered the classroom.

12) Me, Just Me by rhub4rb

Summary: Marinette was tired.

Lila had held true to her promise, and Marinette had never felt more isolated from everyone. Finally, she decides that things need to change.

And she does this for herself, just herself.

13) Hey, Little Songbird by charlietheepic7

Summary: Really, Felix couldn't believe his cousin sometimes. Marinette was talented, beautiful, kind, and had a crush on Adrien bigger than the mansion, yet Adrien was blind to the treasure right in front of him. "Just a friend," indeed.

Well, if Adrien wasn't going to do anything, it wouldn't matter if Felix… snatched her up?

14) New Girl on the Block by StarShine583

Summary: Felix doesn't make it a habit to get involved with other people. They're too dramatic, too needy. He already has a small group of friends- at least that's what they call themselves -and his mother and father. He doesn't need anyone else meddling in his life, especially not some clumsy, new student who comes tripping through the front doors of Rosemary High.

15) Moving Forward by Dia_Moon

Summary: After losing a lot during and after the Miracle Queen battle, Marinette has decided to do things that can help her.

A new school can surely help her right? She'll be moving forward with a positive new beginning!

16) Pushing On by JG_Writes

Summary: Marinette's junior year at Collège Françoise Dupont has been absolute hell. With Lila Rossi spreading lies about her and turning everyone against her, she can hardly hang on. She finds a few surprising allies and decides to move on to a new school for the rest of her education where she meets a wild group of characters and a very silent and mysterious one.

17) Black Cats Revenge by Marcipan21

Summary: Marinette is crying, and Felix looks ready for murder.

*Wattpad*

1) Seeing Red by socksareforcavemen

2) The Price of Lying. by Kuroba_Kaito_1412

Summary: Marinette got used Lila's lies. Her feeling became numb, and her body refused to feel pain. Some nights she would still cry, but the tears stopped as fast as it came. She tried so many times to call Lila out, yet her voice was always silenced. One day, a new girl comes to the class, and helped Marinette shine some light on the truth. Although for the new girl, it's much more than just calling out a liar.

3) Welcome to New York miraculous team by Yuktha2004

Summary: After Marinette class trip to New York for friendship week Lila made do on her promise to turn Marinette friends against her. For three months Marinette friends bullied her and tormented her. Once hawkmoth was defeated Marinette decided to move to New York to start a new life with her real friends.

Felix has always been known as the cold hearted mean boy since his fathers death. He is known for his rude sneaky behaviour and cold ways towards people but that all changes when he meets Marinette.

Find out what will happens on the miraculous team journey to New York. Will sparks ignite and new bonds grow as old bonds strengthen or will the darkness take over consuming all the light that remains.

4) The mysteries (A Felinette Love Story) by Yuktha2004

Summary: Felix is forced to transfer to Paris for abroad studies and it just happens that he transfers to Dupount high school.

In this story Marinette mistreated by everyone even her closest friends. All because of a certain lying fox bit what everyone doesn't know is Marinette has a secret, a mystery.

Join Marinette and Felix on a journey of Mystery, camera' and studio's around Paris.

5) My Angel by Fairy4Ever

Summary: Marinette has been an outcast ever since Lila returned to their class and she's caused more havoc than ever. she kept to her promise and took away all of her friends, including Adrien who wanted her to keep silent about Lila's lies since they weren't hurting anyone.

she felt alone. she was alone. always sat in the back by herself taking the insults or mean glares that her ex-friends would send her making her feel even more upset. she felt like no one cared for her. no one would love her.

but that was all about to change when one boy would join their class and take the empty seat beside her.

6) Heal my heart (Felinette) by -Funko_Mushroom-

Summary: Ladybug and Chat noir defeat hawk moth but never reveal their identities.

Lila comes back to school and everything goes wrong, she turns all of Marinette friends against her! Marinette has gotten used to it at this point and let's what happens to her happen, that was until he came along.

Join Marinette and Felix on their adventure with each other, watch them grow their relationship and heal each other slowly in Heal my heart.

7) Her way of getting revenge by Haru_zou

Summary: Marinette Dupain Cheng. A lovely, kind, and naive girl.. has changed. ever since a pathological liar named Lila came into her life. Lying about her, stealing her friends, and threatening her. She's never been the same. She's hurt after her so called"friends"betrayed her. She's tired of her "friends" bullying her when she didn't even did anything. She's tired of being a hero protecting the ones that hurts her. That's until she met them. The ones that helped her heal. The ones that helped her uncover her dark and forgotten past. The ones that helped her recover forgotten memories. And the ones that will help her get revenge.

8) The Broken Wings of an Angel by MiraculousObsessed07

Summary: After Marinette's break up with Adrien, Marinette was heart broken. She never thought that Adrien would be that type of guy. Cheating on her, out of all people in the world he picked the dead rat. Marinette stopped talking with her friends & family, and she completely shut out the world... that was until she met him: Felix Graham de Vanily.

No Superheros but most kwamis are pets

9) Thank You by CartoonAlcaholic

Summary: Lila did it. She finally broke Marinette, their everyday Ladybug.

Marinette stopped. She stopped smiling. She stopped trying to hang out with her classmates. She stopped inviting them. She stopped playing games with them. She stopped making promises. She stopped being the happy girl everyone knew and became a doll for the fox to play with.

"I'm sorry..." was the only genuine thing she said before she became a marionette for the fox.

But, a certain transfer student had a pair of scissors behind his back and was ready to teach this broken toy how to smile again.

"I know."

#felinette #miraculous fanfic #miraculous marinette #felix culpa #miraculous ladybug pv #fanfic rec #fic recs #marinette dupen chang #marinette deserves better #marinette x felix #miraculous lb #miraculous felinette #miraculous ladybug #mlb fanfic

[souperbloom]

hey! i love your ash and luke one shots so i was wondering if maybe we can get a soft dom cal? something like he comes home late from a studio session and you get mad because you had plans for that night, so he begs for forgiveness by eating you out lol

i love your brain anon. this one was fun as hell.

enjoy some soft!dom cal <3 xoxo

————————

apologies. [C.H.]

🎸boyfriend!cal

the ask pretty much told y’all everything you need to know. kissy.

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, angst if u squint, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk/praise, squirting.

WORDCOUNT: 3.4k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Are you guys fuckin’ coming, or what?"

"Yeah, just— gimme’ another hour. We’ll be there…"

"Swear?"

"Fuckin’ swear, Ang."

You were lying.

You knew damn well you were lying. And so did your best friend, Angie.

Also known as; the one on the phone, that had been pestering you about your plans to go out for the last three hours.

You’d been stalling for a third of that time, which you weren’t proud of. These plans had been made weeks in advance and the only thing stopping you from just getting up and leaving right now was your rather untimely boyfriend.

Calum was the type to let time slip right through his fingers. He was terrible at managing how he spent that time, let alone keeping an eye on the clock. Especially when he was at the studio with the boys.

So you weren’t surprised when he had told you he’d be home to get changed at 10:30— yet now, it was well past midnight.

Letting out a frustrated huff, you toss your phone on the side of the couch. Your long sleeve ‘going out’ top was riding up your back and furthering the anger that was boiling right through you.

"Fuckin’ hell, Cal…" You mumble to yourself, talking into open air with nobody to reprimand, nobody to yell at and let off steam.

You were alone.

The clock on the cable box blinked 12:32. An hour and a half later than the original time of your plans. You were about ready to storm out of your apartment and leave a long, shitty note for Cal to read about just how angry he had made you; but you knew deep down that you’d have a better time with him at your side. You loved him, for fuck’s sake.

Too damn much, sometimes.

Just when you thought a little too hard about putting your shoes on, you hear the familiar sound of keys rattling against the door. It was more frantic than usual; most likely due to the sweaty hands that were manning them.

You snap your head around to watch the door bust open, revealing your panting boyfriend who had probably just run up the five flights of stairs it took to get to your apartment.

He was never a fan of waiting for the elevator.

"Hi, hi, baby— hi— I’m— I’m here, I’m here." An exasperated chuckle laces through your boyfriend’s words as he tried with all of his might to kick the door closed and take his coat off at the same time.

But you just sat there. Your legs crossed, your arms folded— the most scornful, disapproving gaze in your eye.

"You’re late, Cal," you say, disdain rattling off your tongue like a viper.

"I— I know, baby. Fuck, I’m sorry. Lost track of time… fuckin’ around when I shouldn’t have been. But— I’m here now. I’m here."

His words were coming out jumbled and frantic, while still running around like a chicken with its’ head cut off. He had ventured towards the kitchen island, dropping his keys and taking off his beanie that shielded him from the crisp fall winds.

His cheeks were glowing red, still laminated with the sweat it took to get him up five flights of stairs. Yet he hadn’t even made eye contact with you.

"We made these plans weeks ago." You try your best at remaining stern with him, sitting still.

"I know, I know, I know, I know…" Calum was now migrating towards your bedroom, his voice growing faint and trailing off as he exited. You watched the empty hallway; the sounds of rummaging through drawers, opening and slamming them shut was already pissing you off more than you’d like to admit. Your leg was bobbing impatiently now, trying to think of any kind of way to cool yourself off before you burst into flames.

Or, tears.

"Cal—." Your voice cracks slightly, to no response.

"Calum." You try again, a bit louder this time.

His head finally pops around the corner of the door frame. "What?"

"Just—" Your sentence breaks with a sigh, dropping your head into your hand as you pinch the bridge of your nose, "—forget it."

"What?" He steps out into the hallway completely, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Forget it, Cal… I-I don’t even wanna’ go anymore."

The clothes that were once in his hands drop to the hardwood floor as he rushes over to you on the couch.

"Hey,�� he tries to console, "don’t say that."

"What’s the point? We’re already two hours late! Angie’s one phone call away from ripping my goddamn head off!" You can’t help but huff, dropping your head into your hands.

"Y/N, I’m really sorry." Calum voice rings soft, and sweet— but there was nothing more that you wanted to do than wring out his fucking neck.

"Just— drop it, Calum. I’m already in a shitty mood."

You hated being so mean.

Each time you yelled at him was like the snapping of one of your heart strings. But despite that tightness in your chest, he needed to know how much this affected you. Whether you liked it or not.

Calum stays quiet for a moment, seemingly nervous to say the wrong thing or misstep. He was always so cautious with you, never picking a fight. Even though you’ve picked many.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" He asks, squatting down to be level with your sunken face.

"No."

"I could… run you a bath?"

You shake your head. "Nuh uh."

"I could make you dinner?"

"I already ate."

When you peek out from between your fingers, you notice Calum’s lips pushed to the side. He braces his hands on your knees, still crouching and trying to get some sort of read on your face.

He could tell you weren’t happy.

And he fucking hated that.

"Can I see that pretty face?"

That almost got a smile out of you, but you opted just to shake your head.

"I’m not sure how else to say I’m sorry, my girl." His thumb starts a cadence of soothing circles around the outside of your knees.

"Try saying it in French," you mumble, rubbing your tired eyes.

Calum sucks his teeth, "Ouch."

Growing impatient and just about ready for bed, you sit upright. Faced with Calum for the first time since he bust through the door.

His heather green flannel was slouching on his shoulders, looking beat up from the 10 hour day he’d spend working in the studio. His curls hung lowly over his big brown eyes, in desperate need of a trim.

It was taking everything inside of you not to grab his face and tell him how much you loved him, because in spite of all this, you still did.

He was an expert at pissing you off, and it only made you love him more.

"There’s my beautiful girl," he says upon seeing you, smiling meekly, still trying to get your spirits up.

"’Don’t feel it."

"Why not?"

"’Cause you piss me off."

Cal chuckles, squeezing your kneecaps and adjusting his squatted position.

"Can’t really argue with that."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment; the decorative string lights from behind your couch were twinkling in his chocolatey irises, and painting him out to be some sort of angel. His pretty cherub cheeks were still rosy from rushing around and quite frankly, it suited him.

You’ve fallen too damn hard.

"Y’know, I thought of another way to make it up to you."

"Yeah?" You quip, leaning back on the couch cushions.

"Mhm."

His hands were still lingering, moving up to massage your exposed thighs that were now catching a draft from your lack of movement. You had planned to wear this outfit on the day you told Angie you’d be there tonight. So the fact that you were still in it, yet not where you said you’d be, was making your blood boil.

"Gonna buy me back all the time I wasted getting ready for tonight?" You seethe lowly, trying not to sound too bitchy yet coming across as the bitchiest bitch in the world.

Calum frowns, his Doc Martens squeaking against the hardwood floor as he adjusts his posture, "You’re really good at that."

"Good at what?" You muse, chuckling through your nose.

"Firing the shit I pull right back at me. It’s sexy."

"Don’t try to butter me up, Cal. I know I’m sexy. Hence why it took me an hour and a half to get ready."

For some odd reason, your whiny complaints and moody comments towards Calum didn’t seem to be effecting him. They were bouncing off his puffed up chest like he was made of rubber. He was used to your incessant need to be on time, and how he was quite literally your antithesis.

But those witty remarks you kept throwing at him were one of the things he loved most about you. Which is why he kept egging you on.

"I’m really sorry, baby. I’m really sorry I wasted your time."

You try your hardest to bite back a smile, but it doesn’t go over well. "You should be."

Without another word, Calum is dropping down to his knees and suddenly, your heart is racing.

"Can I make it up to you," his hand creeps towards the hemline of your skirt, "like this?"

"I’ll consider it," you nod, trying to seem unbothered by your boyfriend’s large, weathered hands, "But what’s in it for me?"

"Trust me, baby. It’ll be all about you. You won’t have to move a muscle and I swear, on everything I love…"

His fingers stretch across the width of your thighs, prying open your legs with a wicked grin.

"… I’ll have your fuckin’ legs shaking like crazy within the next ten minutes."

Your face flushes, hands subconsciously gripping onto the couch cushions down at your sides at your boyfriend’s promise. He’s still gleaming up at you, waiting for your approval; he’s never the type to handle you without your permission.

"The journey to forgiveness is a long, winding road… But this is definitely a good start, Calum. Well done."

Despite your cool, agile reply, your heart continues to thump out of your ribcage when you see how your unnerving boyfriend reacts to the sound of his own name. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply with that smile still painted onto his cheeks.

"Keep fuckin’ talking like that. See where you end up."

You scoff playfully, "Is that a threat, Mr. Hood?"

"Not a threat, my girl… It’s a promise."

His hands are dancing dangerously close to your underwear now, having crept up your skirt without you even noticing. But you hadn’t a care in the world. You were merely turned on by the sight of him, so eager to please you. So ready for your forgiveness.

"Fuck, you’re good," you groan, letting a whimper slip past as well, "Show me how sorry you really are, then."

In no time, Calum is leaving a sultry trail of kisses up your thigh. You hiss at the feeling of his cool lips against you; having not felt them since the last time the two of you fucked. Which was about four days ago.

He had been quite busy in the studio with the band’s upcoming album, so times like these were a novelty. Not like you minded much, any quality time spent with Calum was worth a million years.

And besides, he’s damn good at it. Why tamper with an already perfect system?

"I know what I said, but can you do somethin’ for me?" Your boyfriend’s head pops up from beneath your skirt with sparkly eyes.

"Mh, depends." You reply lazily.

"Wanna hear you, baby. Wanna hear that pretty voice."

"That won’t be an issue," you smile, lifting your upper half from the couch, "You may have to earn it though…"

Calum’s eyebrow quirks, looking like he’s just about ready to wipe that catty smile right off of your face.

"Since when are you the one to give orders around here?"

You sit up even further to spit back, "Since you decided to fuck around with your boyfriends and make us miss our fucking plans."

There isn’t even an opportunity for you to say any more, since Calum had decided to grip the backs of your thighs and yank you to the edge of the couch. He lifts your legs, ripping your panties off swiftly and tossing your knees over his shoulders before you can even blink.

You gasp at the sudden dynamic change, shallow breaths barely escaping your throat as your boyfriend is now heaving as well. His once angelic brown eyes had shifted to something darker.

Somebody needed to pinch you. You must be dreaming.

"Watch that mouth," he growls lowly, that soft demeanor of his slightly peeking through his cold exterior, "Not gonna tell you again."

Your face drops, now nodding like a desperate mess.

"I don’t care how sorry I am. Good girls get their way, bad girls don’t. And we both know that, don’t we my baby?"

"Yes— yes sir."

"Gonna be good for me?"

You nod again, fingernails digging into the couch cushions as his apology has not only become something you really really wanted—

It was now something you needed.

"Please, Cal. Promise… Promise I’ll be good for you."

He smiles, and a familiar warmth settles back into the pit of your stomach as he kisses both of your knees.

"That’s my fuckin’ girl."

Sweat begins to pool across your forehead when the first kiss is planted on your inner thigh. You writhe above him, patiently waiting for his mouth to travel down to where you needed it to be.

But patience runs thin in moments like these, especially since Calum was such a fucking tease.

"Cal, baby— please…"

Another couple of kisses later and you’re still feeling unfulfilled. At this point, his head was so far deep into your skirt that you could only see the frosty tips of his unruly curls. He hears your plea, nodding slowly.

"Getting there, pretty. Getting there…"

A shock wave zaps your spine the moment he makes contact with your clit. Your body jolts, feeling the slow rhythm of his tongue toying with your sensitive bud.

"Jesus fuck—" You sigh, trying to fulfill the promise of letting him hear you while simultaneously trying to lasso your head back onto your shoulders.

Calum hums happily, which sends another wave of flutters down your body. You were so damn sensitive, and your boyfriend knew it too. But when his head was between your legs, he never seemed to think, or care about anything else.

He flattens his tongue against your dripping slit, making sure to move slowly and pay attention how long it took him to drag his tongue from one part, to the next. You’re still wriggling around, but Cal’s got his arms locked around your thighs.

You couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to.

"Just— just like that, baby… Keep— keep doing that."

The blood rushes to your head when he finds that particularly sweet spot with the tip of his tongue; he’s moaning, you’re moaning, it was like a symphony of desperate pleas. Your hands fly to meet his head, fingers getting tangled in his chocolatey curls as he starts to use his nose in cohesion with his tongue.

"Fuck me, you’re magic, Cal…"

He hums again. Of course, he agrees. He knows he’s the only one who could ever make you feel this way, and he was damn proud of it.

Apology: accepted.

But you wouldn’t tell him that.

That familiar crash of adrenaline was beginning to wash over you, your stomach began twisting in knots as each tug of Calum’s hair produced more and more pressure onto your pussy. He was chipping away at you, collecting your juices onto his tongue and savoring each and every flavor of you. By the sounds he was making, you could only assume that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

"Cal, baby… I’m close. Gonna’ cum… gonna’ cum really soon."

You say the magic words. Your lower half was already preforming backflips at only the flick of his tongue, but that euphoria heightened when he took it upon himself to pop his head up and start using his fingers instead.

He dips one finger inside of your dripping heat, his face slicked with your wetness as he finds your eyes for the first time since he started. Your mouth hangs open, trying your hardest to keep the eye contact as he begins to speak.

"Forgive me, baby? I’m really, really, really sorry."

You nod wearily through a breathy moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head.

"Y—yes… Yes Cal, I—"

Your sentence is cut short by the feeling of a second finger entering you, curling up to brush against that sweet spot with each new stroke.

"Yes what? You forgive me? Say it like you mean it, my girl… I know you can do it."

His taunting words pull another moan from your throat. He’s still looking at you with hooded eyes, enjoying every second of watching you fall apart. You weren’t sure what had gotten into your sweet boy tonight, but you definitely didn’t mind it.

"Yes. Yes, baby— I— I forgive you," you breathe, that swirling feeling in the pit of your stomach ready to burst, "I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you…"

Calum nods, his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip as he watches the obscene ways of your impending orgasm. If he was more honest with himself, your face alone could’ve had him coming on the spot. But he would never admit that. You always came first.

"Yeah? You mean it?" He asks another question. You swore this was some sort of game.

"Yes baby, I— I mean it—!"

Your breathing picks up, Calum’s fingers now moving a bit sloppily, yet keeping that steady rhythm that was driving you up the walls. The pressure building in your lower half was unfamiliar, drawing quick confusion out of you mere seconds before your orgasm.

"Cal, wait— I—"

Alarm bells were blaring in your head, now that Calum had taken his other, freer hand to press his palm flat onto your stomach. He knew what was coming, but you didn’t have a clue.

"Let it go for me, my girl. Let me hear it. Fuckin’ give it t’ me."

Not only does your orgasm rip through your body like a whip cracking down onto pavement, a new sensation was felt the moment Cal told you to let go. A spurt of wetness coats his fingers and the lower half of his face, bringing you to immediately go stark white.

Your chest is heaving, coming down from the high that your boyfriend had just whipped you through. He beat the clock and kept his promise, that’s for damn sure.

"What just— what the fuck. What the fuck, Cal?" You giggle through the comedown, watching Calum triumphantly admire his digits that were now soaked with you. The feeling of you. The taste of you.

"Think you just accepted my apology in more ways than one, baby," your beau chuckles, wiping his face with the back of his fist.

"I can’t believe I just did that," you mumble meekly, now slightly self-conscious as you realized what had just occurred.

Calum scoffs with a shrug, "I can, are you kidding? I knew you had it in you. And all it took was me fucking up to get it out."

"Don’t put it like that," you cringe, scrunching your nose, "Makes it weird."

Calum then begins a slow rhythm of massaging your thighs, something he always does whenever you’re coming down from one of your highs.

"Okay. Won’t make it weird. But let me ask you this— are you still mad?"

You raise your eyebrows, still flustered, watching him lean upward to rest his elbows on your legs. His flannel was in a disarray, as were his curls; you were so wrapped up in admiring him that the thought of anger never even crossed your mind.

"Mad about what?" you ask innocently.

"Mhm," he hums, before leaning in to peck you gently on the lips, "Exactly."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#calum 5sos #calum hood smut #5sos smut #5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer #soupster requests #5sos #calum hood #calum hood fanfic

[matchibee]

Stay

something something, you get injured, something something, Miguel’s reaction.

I honestly didn’t know where to go w this I just knew I wanted it to go somewhere, not proofread

It wasn’t easy, god this was difficult. Miguel couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way you moved fluidly, a river of your own creation. So sure in your movement, so unique in your existence.

Miguel couldn’t help it if his gaze lingered for one, two then three seconds too long. Couldn’t help if when the two of you exchanged glances he wanted nothing more than to dive into your eyes, submerged in a gaze that reflected how deeply he yearned to touch you.

But Miguel was afraid.

He was far more afraid than he’d ever prove capable of admitting, a man scorn by the flame of grief, fanning the embers that threatened to spread.

Couldn’t his broken mind repair itself so he could indulge in your presence?

Perhaps it was too much to ask.

But the multiverse asked too much of him, simultaneously. Asked too much as it placed an incarnate of perfection before his very eyes, a small piece of heaven practically in the palm of his hand, but a man as corrupted as Miguel couldn’t dare touch you. He didn’t want to condemn you to the depths of whatever lied within this sphere of rock and ash.

But who did Miguel think he was fooling? Try as he might, there was no force in this universe that could cease his rampant mind, a man on edge. To keep from reaching out to you exercised a great deal of strength, Miguel practically groveling in your presence.

Thank goodness nobody had taken notice.

Right?

“Miguel can be… interesting.” You told the group of spiders at your table — Pavitr, Hobie, Gwen and Peter B. “But I don’t think he treats me any differently than anyone else.”

The collective groans left you taken aback, munching on your collection of a meal as you gave them a moment to speak their peace.

“I’ve never seen him yell at you, never! You don’t find that a bit odd?” Pavitr was by far the most passionate about the subject, vocal without hesitance. A young boy in the midst of his own love wanting nothing more than to see those he cared for engrossed in adoration as palpable as his own.

But perhaps it would be best if you reconsidered who you attracted, for his mental health.

Just so he could sleep at night.

“Maybe I dont screw up as often as you guys do.” You shrugged your shoulders, not buying anything they had to say. Miguel didn’t like you, he was your boss, a man battling inner demons. He didn’t have time for affections, let alone those feelings stemming from a member who’d arrived only a short time prior to Gwen.

“Pav has a point,” Gwen spoke up, all eyes on her. “He seems… less angry whenever you’re around.”

Through a sip of your beverage you let out a spur of sarcasm. “Wow, revolutionary.”

“It is a bit odd the only missions you ever go on are with him, yeah? Like the bossman wants to protect his little secret.”

The call of your name, Lyla appearing at your shoulder, startling you from the conversation.

“What’s up, Lyla?”

“Miguel’s looking for you in his office — says he needs you for a mission.”

The table erupted into a cacophony of ooo’s, eyebrows wiggling as smirks graced their mischievous faces. “Shut it,” Your groaned through clenched teeth. “You’re forgetting whose AI this is.”

“Oh, she knows all about your little crush on Miguel, mate.” Hobie always proved to be the blunt one, an anarchist with a mission for mischief. “What we’re tryna figure out is if the man upstairs fancies you.”

“He’s not… Hobie, do you know what—“

The call of your name once more, this time from a voice that proved even more familiar, bodies growing stiff as you opened the communication channel. “I had Lyla call you five minutes ago. We have to get going.”

Your response fell from your lips without missing a beat. “Right, on it.”

“Get some!” Hobie bellowed, your jaw going slack as you made a dangerous bout of eye contact, glare like daggers, Hobie not one to retreat from a challenge.

“Get what?” Miguel was confused on the line, and though you couldn’t see his face you knew his palms fell to his hips. “What are you getting?”

“Hobie was asking Peter B. to grab him more empanadas.” The lie slipped from your tongue as though it was awaiting the moment it would escape. “Bring me some too, won’t you, Peter?”

The man mumbled a string of words, obviously dazed, yet rising from his seat nonetheless. “I’ll be there in a sec.” You told Miguel, Hobie chiming in with a ‘Damn straight.’ just before you could close off the channel.

Was it too late to change professions?

You strolled into Miguel’s lair with hesitant movement, the scene previous playing through your mind like a twisted nightmare, one you feared to recall was memory. “You wanted to see me?"

Of course Miguel wanted to see you, his guiltiest of pleasures. It would be a lie to say he hadn't meticulously chosen you for this mission, a low-stakes anomaly that could've been bested by even the most juvenile of Spider-People.

An opportunity to hear your voice, to watch as the sunlight bounced against your skin, shimmering as though gilded by the heavens.

"I thought you were getting an empanada?" His eyes had merely flickered to you, your body and the way you seemed to lean away, your gaze that refused to meet his.

Shit.

"I ate it on the way here."

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Miguel was fiddling with the screens manifested before him, switching between useless tabs, needing to do something with his hands.

You furrowed your brows. "Why not?"

"Wouldn't want you choking."

Your lips curled into a smile then, a genuine expression hidden beneath your mask, suddenly grateful you'd opted to wear in on the way here. It was such a simple string of words, hardly a declaration of love, but within his extension there was concern, affection.

"We should get going." After all, you had things to tend to in your own dimension, never a dull moment. "Wouldn't wanna leave my universe hanging."

Your universe.

Miguel loathed to think you were from another dimension, a domain apart from his embrace. If he had it his way, and it seemed the cards were never in his favor, Miguel would keep you alongside him here for eternity.

But you had duties, responsibilities.

Relationships.

His heart clenched at the thought, the prospect that someone was waiting for you upon your return, someone that wasn't him.

But a man could dream.

In life there was love, so many infinite forms there was only a matter of time before Miguel could call you his. And perhaps if it wasn't in this lifetime it would be the next. Just as he wasn't meant to be a father in this life, perhaps he wasn't destined for affection, either.

Wordlessly, Miguel opened the portal, stepping into the multicolored spiral, not waiting for you to accompany him.

After all, he knew you'd be there without fail.

Upon your emergence Miguel already had Lyla surveying the area for debris, any clue towards discovering the presence of the entity. "Oh!" Lyla had perked up from her crouched position, analyzing a coat she'd been eyeing for quite some time. "They're just up ahead."

Miguel looked to you from over his shoulder, eyes behind his mask making you feel impossibly small. "Ready?"

"Always."

-------------------

Too much to handle, far too much to handle.

The only words that penetrated your mind as a Chameleon variant dragged you through concrete, the material of your suit having ripping along your shoulder, trailing down to your forearm.

There had proven to be multiple anomalies, something Miguel hadn't accounted for, the man rushing off to bring yet another Vulture variation to their knees, leaving you stuck with a knock-off Chameleon.

In an attempt to break free you repositioned yourself onto your back, pain spreading far quicker than previously, pushing your legs up against the reptile's chest and repelling him as far as your legs could throw him.

But the variant was relentless, baring his teeth as he charged towards you without a second thought, entirely unhinged. In one fell swoop he had you thrown up against the side of a building, mind abuzz with static as you fell onto your knees, an imprint of your body immortalized within the concrete structure.

Blood trickled down your nose, chapped lips stained a cruel crimson. You peeled your mask from your face in an effort to get some semblance of air, breaths heaving, a piercing pain erupting throughout your chest.

Still, you rose to your feet, fists held out in front of you.

"You Spider-people are so annoying," Chameleon spoke in a voice like pins and needles. "Always getting back up no matter how hard I knock you down."

You laughed, a chuckle that bubbled in your stomach despite the pain. "That's kinda part of your job description."

Chameleon clicked his tongue. "And your death is a requirement for mine."

"Well now you're just lying."

Chameleon didn't entertain your attempt at humor for a second, lunging towards you, body knocking into a streetlamp, the post denting upon impact.

This variant really had a proclivity for tossing people. Maybe if villainy didn't work out he could pursue a career in the major leagues.

And while the image was entertaining, a humanoid reptile dominating home plate, you weren't sure how much longer you could remain conscious. Your vision was a blur, multicolored apparitions bubbling across your peripheral, invading clarity. It was only a matter of time before your body conceded, giving into the aches and pains, the sleep beckoning your name.

No, wait. Someone was literally calling your name.

The seas of blur parted for just a moment, Miguel rushing towards you as though a valiant knight in his blue-red armor. In one fell swoop he had Chameleon on his knees, the variant powerless against his strength. He was sent to the holding facility, he flash of light indicating you'd won.

Well, Miguel had won, but it was your victory all the same.

In a flash your body went limp, Miguel there to hold you close, head held within the palm of his hand, yearning for you to stay with him.

"Hey," Miguel was speaking in whispers, heartbeat rampant as he felt your limp form against him. "We can go back now, we won."

Your hand pressed up against his chest, just barely missing his cheek. "I'm fine right here."

Miguel had never seen you like this, injured and entirely vulnerable. He hated it, despised it, prayed to whoever could hear him that he could take your pain away, shoulder it for himself.

"No," Miguel shook his head profusely, tears brimming in his eyes, but you couldn’t see them through vision that speckled like constellations. "We're taking you back to HQ, taking you—"

Miguel watched as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder, the only display of affection your aching bones could manage. "Let’s stay here, Miguel."

He’d stay with you for eternity if it meant Miguel could have you, swimming through the river styx until all he knew was your pain, damming himself for just the opportunity to see you once more.

Miguel looked into your eyes, truly looked into them, his hands pressed against your shoulders, calling your name through your delirium. In orbs with a painfully distant gaze he could see himself, the way his face contorted into an expression of refusal — Miguel couldn’t lose you, would rather succumb to darkness that have to give up something he held close.

“I’m here,” Miguel whispered your name, tears like raindrops pattering against your skin. “I’ll always be here.”

But if Miguel made such a promise, an oath that chained his heart, he needed you to make it too. “But you have to stay with me, okay?”

You weren’t sure how long you’d been down, how long you fought your mind to obey you, ignore the pain coursing across your skin, infecting your soul. But it was Miguel who brought you back, Miguel who danced his lips across the top of your head. “I need you.”

And you needed him too, more than he could ever know.

You snapped back quicker than you’d believed possible, mind buzzing with emotion, your senses enveloped by everything Miguel.

A gaze of flame that burned with your image, reflected in flecks of gold, an ember that trickled into a wildifre at just the mere mention of your name — a gaze so intense if you looked into his eyes for too long you might burn, erupt into a pillar of light as oblivion reached to interlace your fingertips in eternity.

And despite the intensity, the heat radiating off of him, there was nothing you yearned for more than you yearned to be with him, to exist within him. You’d accept nihility with open arms if it only meant a second of his touch.

“You’re here,” You smiled through the pain, entirely believing you’d been hallucinating Miguel’s presence until this very moment.

“You needed me.”

His words were instantaneous, missing not a single beat. He held you closer than he’d ever been capable before, a climax to this tension that festered in the pits of his stomach.

“Thank you,” You whispered, arms wrapping around his shoulders, enveloping him as closely as you proved capable. “I love you.” The words slipping from your lips without a second thought.

You could feel how tense Miguel grew, entirely rigid. And though the words tickled his throat, a pain like nothing before, Miguel couldn’t help the yearning of his heart. “I love you too.”

There was something about those three words that left you in a state of delirium, body yearning for everything that encompassed Miguel, entirely incapable of alternate thought.

“Miguel,” You spoke, limbs still sore, entirely conscious you couldn’t move on your own. “Can we go?”

The man chuckled, hand stroking down your cheek, tilting your head so your gaze would be entirely on him. Slowly, as though you might shatter, Miguel drew closer.

"Where should I take you?" Miguel mumbled against your lips, still concious of the injuries slowly healing in their own time.

"Home."

And with a smile, one that burned his cheeks, Miguel took you back to Nueva York.

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

AEMOND POV

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st, rape, choking, thoughts of violence and manipulation. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Thoughts of manipulation and hurt, violence and assault. Obsessive themes and possessiveness.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: AEMOND!POV, Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Word count: 5.5k

Note: Here it is... the night of the wedding, part two of Aemonds!POV. THIS IS A DARK!FIC. DO NOT EXPECT KINDNESS, dunno why I have to keep saying this haha. As always read the warnings and please, please don't expect anything happy, or fluffy or healthy. This is a Dark!fic. Anyway.... enjoy you heathens <3

BOLD ITALICS ARE INNER THOUGHTS.

AEMOND POV CHAPTERS 50-52

PART TWO : Night of fate

The One-Eyed Prince took himself straight to your shared chambers, pouring himself a goblet of wine, and sitting before the fire in his favourite chair, as he always did, to drink the spiced alcohol and stare into the flames. Imagining whoever had scorned him, sitting within it, burning and crying out for his mercy. 

He saw the face of his brother within the flames that evening. 

He had heard you approach him slowly, timidly and quietly, and then your sweet, soft voice had called to him like a choir and asked if he would like more wine. But that was not what had caught his attention. 

“Would you like some more wine, husband?”

Husband. 

Husband.

You were such a good little thing. Trying to be a good wife to him. Trying to calm him and care for him. You did love him. You did. You had to. 

And as he thought of how beautiful you were, standing before him in the dress he had had made for you, and how the low light of the chamber and crackling fire brought out the violet of your eyes and the silver of your hair, you had snatched the goblet from him angrily and stormed away to the table, and the short lived, sweet tempered little wife was gone, and the fiery woman he has loved since he was a boy was back. 

He loved it both.

You had stood at the wall for some time, looking at the wine and Aemond began to grow impatient as he waited. 

“Why ask if you’re not going to do it.”

He watched you spin on your heel, goblet in hand and thrust it out to him, a small drop of wine spilling over the rim. Your lips were pulled downwards into a frown that you never seemed to be able to hide from your face, your soft lips creasing in the corners.

“Gīda ilagon, zaldrītsos.” Calm down, little dragon, He had purred, and he felt you shift in his periphery. 

He could hear you drink loudly from your cup, but you did not respond to him. 

“You’ve been exceptionally quiet this evening. I expected more from you.” 

And he had.

“Are you feeling well, wife?”

“Quite well, thank you, husband.” You had said back flatly.

No emotion in the tone. 

You were seething, desperate to hide your bitter resentment behind a thick wall of your creation. But there were cracks in the wall that you had built, and Aemond knew a way in.

“I wonder what he would think of this.” Aemond mused.

Aemond knew he would have hated it. And it made him even more ecstatic. He hoped that Lucerys' body was rolling in the bottom of the ocean. Or, whatever was left of it that did not go straight into the gullet of Vhagar. 

You had asked who, but he knew that you had known. You just wished to hear it come from his lips. You wished to have him confirm that he was the monster that you said he was. And he would give you that. If you saw him as a monster, he would be the monster you so desperately craved.

He had laid the trap out for you, and you had willingly, and knowingly walked into it.

“Lucerys.”

You had not responded, and Aemond was proud of your control. But he knew it was fraying. So he pushed again. 

“Wonder what your Strong boy would have thought about you being wed to me. Do you think he would cry? Or try to take my other eye?”

“Don’t speak about him.”

“Merely trying to have conversation with my darling wife.” 

“I am going to retire for the night.” You had spoken, and Aemond felt disappointment.

He knew you wanted a fight, and excuse to hate him, an opportunity to come at him, and so he would give it to you. He wanted to give it to you.

Why were you so adamant on hating him? Could you truly not see that you were made for each other ? 

You should be honoured to be wed to him. He was a Prince, in line for the Iron Throne. He rode the largest dragon in the world, and was skilled in the blade. You should be proud that he would have married you. 

“It was a shame he was not there to witness it,” His voice called across the room, “I would have liked to see his face.” 

“Fuck you.”

There you are.

How I have missed you. 

“How did my other nephew react? The eldest and strongest of boys?”

“Disgusted that I would be married to a second son. You, no less. Just as I.” 

Disgusted?

You were disgusted? You.

Disgusted by him?

After everything he had done for you. He had ensured that your life would be spared. He had made a promise to not harm your family despite itching to. He had done so much for you, and you were disgusted by him?

You set him alight. 

You always did this to him.

You always had this way to get under his skin.

He jerked himself from his seat and faced you, the tired little thing, angry and exhausted, chest rising and falling, hands in fists and cheeks flushed from the wine and rage that coursed through your veins. 

His precious little wife. 

His zaldristos.

His.

And he could do whatever he wanted to you.

Because you were his.

Now and forever.

“And how do you truly feel?” He asked, watching as your face flickered. 

“Nauseated at the thought of being married to a kinslayer.”

“Hm. I am wed to a kinslayer too.”

You took Daeron from us.

You took him.

My younger brother. 

But Aemond supposed it was an eye for an eye. 

“You killed my brother.” Aemond said, barely controlling the anger and grief within him. 

A brother for a brother. 

“Aegon wanted your head. I convinced him otherwise. You’re alive because of me.”

You ungrateful cunt. 

Don’t you see? I did this for you.

I did this for us.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

“A fate worse than death, I am certain.” 

Worse than death?

Worse than death?

If you think I am worse than death, I will be worse than you could ever imagine. The Seven Hells would be more merciful than I.

“You have no idea what he had planned for you. You would not have been put to death quickly.”

Aemond knew.

Aegon had told him in great detail of what he had planned for their niece. He had spoken loudly and drunkenly about splitting her apart on his cock first, and watching her bleed and cry. He would had a knight take your mouth next as they fucked themselves into you. No hole would be spared, no inch of skin uncovered by them. Aegon was going to break you in a way that made even Aemond shudder. 

“The King wanted to lock you down in the dungeons again. Make an example of you to the knights of King’s Landing. They would have taken turns with you, you know. After him of course.”

“You act as though you aren’t just like him. Like you aren’t worse.” 

Ice ran down Aemond’s spine. 

Just like him. 

Just like Aegon. 

Worse than Aegon. 

She thinks me worse than him.

She does not even know the true depths of his depravity.

“You think me the same as Aegon?”

“I know it.” You had sneered at him, all teeth and claws, the last show of bravery. The last beat of your drums before the inevitable. 

She thinks I am like Aegon?

That I drink, and whore and abandon my duty? That I am unfit to rule? That I am a pathetic excuse for a Prince? That I tarnish the very name and meaning of Targaryen? That I force myself upon any woman I seek?

Aemond had never, not once, forced himself upon any woman. 

“You think you know what he is truly like? You think I am worse than him? A fate worse than death?” Aemond growled.

“You’re a monster.” 

Aemond’s heart broke. 

Monster. 

Monster. 

All his life, he had been treated like one. When his eye had been taken people avoided him at all costs. Ladies crossed yards to avoid passing him. He had been called, and mocked, and treated like a monster even before Lucerys carved out his eye.

Monster.

His sweet niece, his beautiful flame, his zaldristos thinks he is monster. 

Aemond crowded your space so quickly, feeling the warmth from your body around him as he sneered down at you. 

“A monster you wed.” 

Now and forever. 

Us. Ours. Always. One.

Aemond’s face whipped to the side and a sharp blooming pain rose on his face, concentrating in the jagged scarring of his eye. 

You had struck him.

You had struck him where you knew it would hurt.

And it was agony.

Blinding white agony. It sunk deep into his skull and throbbed in his face as he tried to compose himself. He tried desperately to not cry out, to curse, or to grunt. 

How dare you. 

How fucking dare you. 

You knew.

You knew how much that would harm him. 

And the pain in his face was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. 

You left me.

You left me when he took it.

You left me and sided with your brother when he took my eye. You had watched me be stitched together again and not come to my side. You saw me as a monster. 

Now you called him one. 

He stood towards you, towering over your tiny body as you looked up at him in fear. 

Yes. Fear me. Fucking fear me so that you may never strike me again. So the you may never hurt me again.

So that you may never, ever, leave me again. 

“Get away from me.” You had warned, and Aemond struggled to keep in a laugh. 

You had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run to. You were trapped with the monster you wed.

Now and forever.

Aemond watched your hand rise again and he snatched your wrist. 

Hurt me once, I can forgive. Hurt me twice? Attempt to strike me again? Try to draw blood or agony from my scar?

I will ruin you.

I will make you feel the way I have felt these past years.

I am going to break you the way you broke me.

“Try it again. See what will happen.” 

“Let go of me!” 

Your other hand moved and strike his other side.

Pathetic.

Now I am going to break you.

Aemond shoved you down onto the bed and watched with glee as your eyes widened in shock and fear. 

I warned you. I warned you, and you did not listen.

Now I have to teach you. You have to learn.

You have to learnt to be good for me. 

Aemond was ready to break you and put you back together again.

He choked you, watching as your face grew red and your hands clawed at him from below, desperate to get air back into your body. Desperate to get the monster above you, off of you.

Aemond hovered, watching as your eyes slowly started to shut and your struggles begin to stop. He lessened the grip on your throat and watched at how your soft lips parted, and you gasped in a desperate breath of air.

He deserved this. 

He needed this.

How long had he waited for this?

How long had you teased him?

Aemond began to hike up the skirt of your dress.

The dress he had made for you.

I gifted this to you, I paid gold for this, and I shall take it off of you or rip it from your body like intended.

“No!” You grunted below him, trying to drag your vicious little nails down his face.

My little zaldristos. Fight me.

Fight me harder.

It only makes me want you more.

Aemond’s hand left your throat to catch both of your wrists in his, painfully pushing them onto the bed above your head. 

Try and fight me off. See how strong I have become. See how I am not the little boy I once was.

See how no one will hurt me anymore. 

His cock swelled in his pants as you kicked, and writhed, and grunted, and growled beneath him, desperate to be out of his grip and away from him. Desperate to free yourself from what was owed to him.

I deserve this. 

You are owed to me. 

A debt I have finally come to collect.

Aemond watched as tears welled in your eyes. You looked so sweet, so pliable beneath him, so perfect, he wished to lick the tears from your face as he fucked himself into you. He hummed as he thought of it. He looked down your body to your exposed cunt.

So perfect for him.

Made for me.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

His fingers roughly parted your folds, digging into your bud with aggression.

Would a monster bring you pleasure? Could a monster bring you to your peak?

Aegon never did. Aegon never cared for those girls pleasure. He had never cared for Helaena’s.

But Aemond did. 

Aemond would bring you to your peak, once, twice, three times, if he wanted to. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted it to feel good. He wanted you to be confused, and unsure, and completely lost to the way he would soon split you open on his cock. He wanted to feel you pulse around his length as he filled you to the brim with his seed. 

See how you will hate me then when your body craves me.

You were dry, but you would not be for long. Aemond forced his fingers into your hole roughly, thrusting them completely inside, relishing in how your cunt resisted him and tightened around his digits. You were so warm, and tight, and he thought of how it would feel around his cock.

Would Aegon bring you pleasure? Would Aegon feel you the way he will? Could Aegon make you feel the way he had in your chambers that evening? Could Aegon bring you to your release upon his tongue?

No.

As he thrusted his fingers in and out of you faster, he felt you slowly begin to relax, your body desperate to ease the tension and give in to the feeling of his hand. His own came down to his breeches. 

After all I have done for you.

After all I have suffered.

After all I have sacrificed.

After all you had done, and you still dared to call him a monster. A monster. A monster who had loved you, and cherished you, and cared for you when you were growing up. A monster who ensured that Aegon would turn his anger onto him and not you as a child. A monster who had beaten Aegon bloody and stopped him from defiling you in the dungeons. A King. His King.

A monster. 

Aemond’s body shook with anger.

His large hand grasped his member and pulled it from his pants, gripping it tightly as he looked down at you. It was heavy and aching, and needed to be inside of you. His hand squeezed roughly against the length and it brought him little relief.

He had never once felt this way. The closest he had gotten to this need was after slaughtering the Strong House. He had found Alys, taken her to some dead Lord’s chambers, and fucked into her hard and fast, watching as her body was roughly shoved up the bed and her face winced in pain, and yet she still clutched onto him moaning, enjoying the pleasure he brought her. It had been a quick and angry fuck, and he had spilled himself deep inside of her, praying his seed would take. 

Alys always looked up at him with praise and adoration. She took him as he was. Scars and all. 

But you?

You looked up at him in fear and hatred. You looked at him like he was a monster.

“You think I’m a monster?” He purred, shoving his legs between yours roughly, grip bruising your wrists. 

“You think I am my brother?” He sneered from above, heat from his body surrounding you.

Aegon would be worse. 

Aegon would be far, far worse. He would take all your holes and leave you bloodied, and bruised and a broken shell. Aegon was the monster, and you didn’t even know it.

“Aemond, stop. Please, stop.” You begged, sob working its way up your throat. 

His cock twitched in his grip. You sounded so pretty when you begged. He wished you would beg for him. Beg for his cock and for his seed. But he had to work you up to that. He had to make you want it. He wanted you to chase after the monster you hated. 

What a bitter sweet revelation. 

He pulled his hand up and down his cock roughly, before beginning to settle between your hips.

“No!” You cried out, trying to wriggle away from him as he descended towards your heat, but it was no use. He would not stop. No amount of begging, or pleading, or crying could make him stop.

They all thought he was a monster. 

He would prove them right.

Aemond lined himself up with your slit and began to push inside of you, feeling your hole resist his girth and try to squeeze itself shut. His eye fluttered as he felt you gripping him so tightly, he thought he would cum. You were so warm, and gripped him so prettily. So perfect for him. Made for him.

My pretty little wife. 

He felt you stiffen beneath him as you sobbed, watching his length pull slowly out of your hole, blood streaking the pale skin as he moved. 

Aemond's cock jumped at the sight. 

You were a maiden. But a maiden no more. 

You were his.

Entirely his. No man had ever tasted you before, touched you before, held you or fucked you. Your knight had no defiled you, nor any other man.

You were his.

The blood excited him.

He shoved himself back inside of you, as deep as he could go, feeling the end of your cunt pressed up against the tip of his cock, stomach bulging beneath him as he continued to try and break through. He wanted to rip you open, and ruin you. He wanted to make you feel him forever inside of you.

You felt so good.

Fuck.

“Aem, please, stop.” You sobbed, eyes scrunched up in pain as you cried. 

Aem. 

You had not called him that in a long time. 

Aem. 

His hips stuttered as he felt an inch of regret, but it was short lived.

I am not that boy anymore. 

I am not him. 

Does she think that will make me stop? Does she think that her calling me Aem will make me be gentle? That her tricks will work on me? So that she can leave me again?

He began to rut into you sharply, more aggressively than before, his thrusts pushing your body up the bed as you cried loudly into the chambers. And he revelled in it. The way your breasts were pushed up against the front of your dress, jiggling with every jut of his hips. How your cheeks reddened, and tears dripped from your eyes. How your lips hung open as you sobbed beneath him, finally giving up.

It felt so good.

It felt so right. So perfect to have you beneath him. Every drag of his hips caused pleasure to curl up inside of his body, you were so tight and so wet, aided by your maidenhead as he fucked into you. He gripped onto you hips as he tilted his own, desperate to feel you flutter around his cunt, to see your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucked you through your peak. 

Come on. I know you have it in you. Give it to me. 

Give in to me. 

Aemond watched your face as you cried. So beautiful. Such pretty tears and sadness, and then would look down to wear his thick cock would disappear into your broken cunt, blood pooling onto the sheets below, and smearing into the soft tuft of hair at the base of his cock.

You were painting him so prettily, and he wished to see it again. 

He had never thought that blood would excite him like this. He had to have it. He wished to taste it, to run his tongue through your folds and taste your coppery pain and turn it to pleasure. He wanted your hands in his hair as you tugged him closer to your aching cunt. He wished for you to be bruised, to be feeling him for days, and so he rutted into you harder and faster, enjoying how he beat the breath from your lungs with every thrust. 

And then your head had rolled to the side and you had finally, finally, broken. Given in. Given up. And you let him fuck himself into you brutally whilst you cried, looking away from him. 

It made him angrier. 

He wanted you to look at him. He wanted you to witness who took your Maidenhead. He wanted you to remember it was him. 

Your uncle.

Your husband. 

Him.

The monster you hated. The monster you so desperately craved. He knew that you craved him. You just needed to give in. 

Aemond pulled himself to kneel, dragging your hips into his lap to change the angle. It made you tighter, and you clenched around his length almost painfully. He fucked into you as you lay limp below him.

His own personal pleasure doll.

A pretty little wife he could dress up and fuck heirs into. Aemond would be lying if he didn’t enjoy seeing you limp, taking his thrusts and everything he gave you. So well, so good, so perfectly behaved.

And all his. 

“Gods, please.” You hiccupped, begging.

Were you begging for him? Begging for more?

Aemond shifted, leaning back against his heels, angling your hips so his cock hit upwards inside of you, making your cunt so much more shallower and tighter. The new angle made Aemond grind his teeth together and he grunted, fucking into your now wet heat. Aemond felt you clenching around him as the tip of his cock abused the soft spongey spot he had been searching for.

You tensed below him.

There it is.

“No. No.” You babbled, cheeks wet with tears, voice hoarse from crying. Your little hands came up to claw at him, to make him stop, to deter him from bringing you to your peak. He was sure you were filled with shame in knowing that this monster could fuck you till you spilt yourself all over his cock.

But it was so, so sweet. To see you fighting the pleasure. You did not want it to be true, but he was going to make it true. A reality that you could never escape. 

He would fuck you, and you would like it. 

Aemond brought his thumb down onto your pearl and began to swirl it roughly, using your blood and slick to aid the movement. He felt your core tighten, and clench, and flutter around him, and Aemond had to resist from shooting his warm seed into you then, and there. 

“Aem, stop. Please, Aem.” You begged and he knew then that you were close. Aemond increased the pace of his thumb against your bud, wishing to see you come undone on his length.

I can bring you pleasure like no other can. No-one will ever make you feel like this. Aegon would never make you feel the pleasure that I will give you.

I want you to know that your body craves and needs me.

You need me.

 “Uncle, please.” You begged so prettily, and Aemond lost himself to it.

It was so arousing to hear you say it. To hear you call him uncle as he was inside of you. To know his precious little niece was split open on his shaft. To know his sisters daughter, a sister he despised more in the world than anything else, was below him begging him as you tightened around him.

Targaryens had queer customs to those not from the mighty blood of the dragon, but to have you, his niece beneath him? It felt so right. And it felt oh so delightfully wrong too. 

Aemond moaned into the chambers and he felt your walls grip him tightly. 

He would remember that.

When his hand was on his cock, or when Aegon questioned him. He would remember that you clenched to the sound of his pleasure. 

He was so close, so desperately close to spilling himself, but he needed to feel you first. He needed to feel you tighten around him and come undone. He needed to push you over the edge, walls wrapped tightly around him so that he could watch you cry out into the chambers. He needed it like he needed air. 

He bent over you, crushing you beneath him as he sped up his thumb, desperate to get you there. 

“Take it.” He moaned, his pace beginning to falter, thumb swirling around your swollen bud roughly.

"No. No. Aem stop, no. Stop." You cried out.

Aem. 

The prince thrusted into you harder, pressing down roughly onto your bud as he began to feel you clench around him. And your eyes had widened and looked up at him when you realised what was happening. Your body tensed and your mouth gaped and the heavens opened, swallowing Aemond in. 

Aemond felt your core spasm around him as he fucked you through your climax.

“That’s it.” He cooed.

Good girl.

Such a good girl.

See what pleasure I can bring you? See what this monster can do for you?

“Please.” You cried, trying to push him away from you, as you clenched around him, pleasure ripping through you cruelly without mercy.

Aemond felt himself get to the edge of his own pleasure, the waves mounting, and mounting, feeling the way your slick coated him as he slid in and out of your cunt sloppily, and tightly. 

You had sobbed beneath him and writhed, your cunt tightening around him, Aemond had to lean forward, pressing a sharp kiss to your neck as he came. Pleasure shot through his body violently. 

He pressed himself as deep as he could go into you, feeling your cervix, as rope after rope of his seed spilt into your waiting womb. He wanted to see you swell with his babe, to see your breasts become engorged and leak. He wanted to suckle roughly onto your sore breasts and bring you relief, as you carried his babe inside of you.

“Fuck.” He moaned above you, hips stuttering as he continued to thrust into you languidly, feeling a new wetness within you as you laid stiffly beneath him. He could still feel your core gripping him, milking him of every drop of his spend.

Pleasure hazed his mind as he came down from his peak, feeling your warm, wet walls as he slowly pulled out of you, wincing at the overstimulation. And then he had heard it. 

The most broken sounding sob.

Worse than Helaena’s sobs when she would flee into his chambers.

Worse than his mother sobs when she had lost Daeron.

Aemond looked down at you slowly, watching as another broke through your lips, you could not even stop it. Such a visceral reaction to him.

To the monster.

Monster.

Maybe he really was a monster.

Aemond had just taken your maidenhead. 

He raped you.

His niece.

His wife.

Someone he loved.

Someone who had once been his friend.

Someone who had killed his brother. 

Aemond rolled off of you and looked up at the ceiling. 

What had he done. 

What had he done. 

You would never forgive him.

You would never love him.

His mother would beat him if she knew of what he had done. But not because she would care. But because of the treaty.

Maybe you were right. Maybe he was no better than Aegon. Maybe he was just the same. Cut from the same cloth.

Perhaps he was worse. 

But he didn’t want this. 

It didn’t need to be like this.

He would have given you everything. He would give you the world if you asked. He would cut down any man in your way, any person who stood between the both of you. If anyone was to touch you, Aemond would feed them to Vhagar and relish in their cries of agony.

But you wouldn’t let him.

You wouldn’t let him do this for you. You hated him. You called him a monster. You just push, and push, and push, the way his brother, and mother, and your siblings have pushed, and pushed, and pushed him his entire life. 

How Aegon had pushed, and pushed, and pushed him into the silk lanes on his thirteenth name day. How the boys had pushed, and pushed, and pushed him into claiming a dragon to spare himself from their cruelty. How he had been pushed into fighting them. 

And they had taken his eye because of it.

You did this. 

But he loved you.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. And nothing that you could do would change that. 

He just had to make you see. He had to make you believe it. He had to show you your body craved him, and he did that tonight. He wished he could take it back, but he can’t.

And that would be your lesson.

Perhaps now you would learn. 

You had curled up beside him, shivering and whimpering, dress askew and your blood and his seed dripping out of you.

He wanted to hold you. To touch you. To press you against him and tell you that everything was alright, that you were okay, that you were safe, that he was sorry, that he loved you. That he would never do it again.

“Y/n.” He had whispered, and he watched how you curled yourself tighter in a ball.

You hated him. You were disgusted by him. You thought he was a monster.

And then he had uttered your nickname, the way you had uttered his. He hoped it would bring you comfort, he hoped it would remind you that he could be that boy if you needed him to be. That he was still in there, somewhere, deep down, hidden for years. That he could be him for you.

Anything for you.

But then a louder sob flew from your lips at the name, and he knew that there was no salvaging what had been broken. There was no saving what had been crushed. There was no fixing the glass of your heart that he had shattered beneath him.

Just as you had done to him, all those years ago.

Your little hands dug into your flesh so tightly your knuckles turned white, and Aemond wished to lean forward and kiss each digit and your palm. To kiss up your wrist and your arm, to your shoulder and neck, across each cheek and each eyelid, your forehead and nose. He wished to soothe you with his love, to pour it into you so that you would believe him. To crack you open and let his blood and adoration fill you until you believed.

Until you knew what he could be for you.

Who he could be for you.

To prove to you that this was fated, that you were his, and he yours the moment the both of you were conceived. That in those years of him being born, and you not being brought into the world yet, his life had no meaning, and he was cursed to be waiting for you to come to him.

To complete him.

To be his other half.

The Gods had made it so. And Helaena had whispered, and murmured, and promised, and prophesied that it would be. And it was. And it would be. And you would love him as fate was designed, and he would wait, or try to, until you could see it too.

Aemond could wait, but if you did not see it, he would force you to. 

Tonight he forced you to see him for who he really was, scars and all. Just as he had witnessed you above him, shard of mirror in hand, smiling at him so widely, hair so wild, and body so ripe for the taking.

You had brought him pain, and he had delivered.

Aemond’s hand came to touch your shoulder and felt you flinch away from it, a terrified sob falling from your lips as you curled into yourself tighter, tucking your knees against your chest in an attempt to protect yourself.

You just needed time.

You needed time to see.

Needed time to heal.

You would see.

He would make you see. 

You were his.

And he was yours.

Now and forever.

Us. Our. We.

One.

Fated to burn.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

#aemondpov #AemondPOV #aemond!POV #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #dark!aemond #dark!fic #fic #series #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond #smoke fire and ash

[marvelmaniac715]

A Paulkotho poem I wrote, from Pokey’s perspective, that could also be a song (picture a slow ballad, almost the tempo of ‘Fairytale Of New York’). It’s set after Paul goes through the apotheosis:

Heart of my heart, press your lips now to mine

And as my breath is stolen let our fingers entwine

I’ve waited for forever just for this moment, for us two

And I’d wait longer still if it’d let me love you

Don’t weep now as I hold you, let my melodies drown out

Every measly care your poor heart frets about

For I do love thee and that shall always be true

Even as your eyes become a brighter shade of blue

I come from a world where they cannot understand

The longing I’ve felt just to hold your hand

I’ve been mocked and teased, love, I swear, endlessly

Until I see you and my pain begins to cease

I’ve loved you since the moment you first scorned what I adore

I knew that your brave spirit was worth fighting for

So kiss me once more as the town in which you reside

Turns to ash before us, watch it crumble and die

We’ll make our marriage bed from the rubble left behind

So that the scholars and historians, our love they shall find

Your eyes are still bright, but they’ve lost their sharp gleam

This level of subservience, from you I’ve never seen

Which now begs the question, as you emotionlessly stand

Do I love the idea of you or do I love the man?

#team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #the guy who didn't like musicals #lords in black #pokey #pokotho #paul matthews #paulkotho #light angst #poetry

[bonefall]

BB!Bumble

If Bumble has millions of fans I am one of them. If Bumble has ten fans I am one of them. If Bumble has only one fan that's me. If Bumble has no fans, that means I'm dead. If the world is against the Bumble, I am against the world.

[ID: Bumble from WC on a purple, pink, and blue background. She is a fat tortoiseshell cat with a white chest and paws and bright orange dapples. She has two pawprint-shaped marks on her face and a torn ear.]

Need an animation-friendly version? Go here!

I won't get into a rant here, but go ahead and review the scene where Bumble gets exiled if you wanna get mad. Fair warning that I do not like Canon DOTC and I'm not 'nice' towards it.

BB!Bumble is the mate of Turtle Heart, and eventually ThunderClan's greatest asset. She cracks open diplomacy for the underdog Clan, allowing them to speak with cats for whom there would otherwise be a serious language barrier.

Her personality is self-confident, outgoing, and compassionate. She loves funny idioms and turns-of-phrase, and is always down to hear a good story. Of course, she also LOVES a good meal, and sees the incalculable value in a long nap before a hard decision.

After her death, Bumble becomes the ancient patron of Speech and Communication. When love makes you tongue-tied, when you hear the perfect phrase and it echoes in your head for hours after, when you need to find the right words to express a complicated idea, that is a moment to invoke Bumble.

(Full outline below!)

When Turtle Heart fled Tom and his violence, Bumble came a few weeks later and was accepted into the Clan as long as Turtle was there to vouch for her. Her membership was always tenuous though, completely dependent on her mate hunting for her.

Disaster struck when Tom stole their children, and Turtle Heart died trying to retrieve them. With Bright Storm as their godmother, Tall Shadow saw no reason to keep the "useless outsider" Bumble as part of the Clan. Bright Storm, blinded by love she still had for Clear Sky, did not fight for her and concluded it was a hard choice but the right one.

Around this time, Thunder Storm had come to reject Clear Sky and his brutal Clan. After Sunlit Frost was exiled for being unable to hunt with an infected wound, they decided to return to Shadow's Clan together. Upon finding Bumble exiled, Thunder Storm roared at the cruelty and injustice of what he found.

When Bright Storm tried to calm him, Thunder snapped, "I didn't think I would come home to find a second Clear Sky!"

Rallying his small group of supporters, Lightning Cry, Acorn Swoop, and Sunlit Frost, he charged off to go find her. They found Bumble just in time to see Clear Sky "warning" her by ripping her ear off, and Thunder Storm launched himself at his father. The brawl became ferocious, a SkyClan patrol barreling in to defend their leader.

Just as it seemed like Thunder Storm was pinned and bested, from the undergrowth it's BRIGHT STORM WITH THE STEEL CHAIR

And several reinforcements! The words stuck with her and made her realize what she'd been doing, and understand that now was the time to fight against what she was becoming. The fighting reached a crescendo. Thunder's followers were still outnumbered but holding a stalemate, and then, at that moment, a tree creaked and groaned.

The cats disentangled at just the right moment to leap away from a falling ash tree, splitting the groups in two. Thunder Storm leapt up on top of the trunk, a wayward sunbeam making his fur shine tiger-orange. Bloodied and seeing a sign from their ancestors, Clear Sky's defeated warriors ran home.

Clear Sky himself lingered for a moment longer, meeting the blaze in his son's amber eyes, catching Bright Storm's scorn, and then turning away without a single word.

This is the start of ThunderClan.

Bumble quickly becomes one of its most important members. She is able to speak to the River Kingdom to the west and the Wind Coalition to the north, earning them allies when they might not have had any. ThunderClan's early fate is to roam around the Forest as needed, trying to avoid too many skirmishes and remaining close to whoever their current ally is.

But before then, ThunderClan's first order of action is to retrieve Bumble's kits from ShadowClan.

But that's a story for another time.

#BB!DOTC #BB!Bumble #Character Summary #Better Bones AU

[fragileheartbeats]

idea: What do you think about a prophecy like Aegon's prophecy for your own house?

Rhaevar I was on his deathbed staring at the ceiling with tear filled eyes. He stretched out his trembling hands towards the mirror and whispered with his eyes wide open, shining like starlight:

Listen, for the winds whisper secrets of impending doom, a tale of one hundred and ten thousand and then ten thousand more, seeds of wrath sown by the hands of malice.

Behold, those vile progeny, borne of darkness and scorn, shall descend upon my realm, bearing flags of oppression and robes blackened by the sun's cruel gaze. Their lineage obscured, their origins shrouded in the mists of deceit, they shall come with sorcery and false promises, intent on sundering the lands I, Rhaevar, have nurtured.

They defile and pollute, leaving homes and fields in ruins, transforming once vibrant lands into desolate wastelands. Joy and reverence dissipate, faith and covenant shattered, as the wicked lineage rises to power, tearing asunder the fabric of righteousness that I have woven into existence.

Cities shall crumble, wells run dry, scholars fall to ash, and the flames of knowledge shall be extinguished by their unholy touch. They shall defile the sanctity of home and hearth, turning verdant fields to desolate wastes, and my sacred flame shall be snuffed out, leaving naught but ashes in its wake.

In their wake, a wasteland shall bloom, where once grand villages stood, now naught but bones and dust remain. Joy shall flee from the hearts of children, and reverence for the elderly shall wither like leaves in autumn's chill. Their words shall ring hollow, their deeds black as the night, for they are faithless, betrayers of the Creator's covenant.

When this world approaches its end and the time of their birth is near, the days, months, and years will grow shorter, and the day and night will alternate and the sun will become more straight and hidden, they will invite the dead, and spread the dead.

In the darkest hour, they shall rise to power, pitting kin against kin in a ceaseless cycle of strife. They shall spurn righteousness and embrace wickedness, honoring their own lineage while casting mine as lowly. Birds shall be revered more than my kin, and the faithful shall be branded as heretics in their twisted creed.

And they will commit many sins, such as slavery and intimacy with unfaithful women, and they will make it common, and they will engage in idolatry and commit many vile acts.

When storms and violent winds come at their time, the rain will not fall as it should, except that it will bring pollution to the land and bring evil creatures with it. the rivers and streams will dry up, and it will not bring an increase, except that it will bring destruction with it. and the cattle, sheep, and goats will bear less and what they bear will be smaller and less skilled, and they will carry less weight and have less fur and tighter skin, and they will not yield milk, and their fat will decrease.

and the celebrations and customs of the past will change and the customs they follow will be weak and without belief.

when the time comes and their destruction is at hand, the mouth of Himelios will open and release all that they have hidden in their hearts of iron, silver, gold, copper, and jewels, the rule of this land will fall into the hands of evil and even the righteous rulers will follow the ways of those with evil deeds, and the kingship shall pass from them into the hands of bandits and rebels, and, the kingship of these evil ones shall spread, and if they kill a righteous in their stead, it will be as if killing a fly in their eyes.

And when the time comes for their destruction, these evil ones will be destroyed like a tree shedding its leaves on a cold winter night, and their destruction will be complete.

for in the hour of reckoning, the heavens shall weep tears of fire, and the earth shall open to swallow the wicked whole. The rule of kings shall crumble, and even dragons will fly away. Yet from the ashes, a child shall rise, born of my blood, destined to bring hope to a world shrouded in darkness.

his father will be of the fire lineage, and he will seek the help of winter in north, this child will come into the world when he reaches nine and will have a conversation with me. in that night, a sign will appear in the world. the stars will rain down and a new star will appear in the sky, visible to all.

And in that night, his father will die, and he will be raised by noble women.

many young people from my land will return to the ways of their ancestors and many will be killed and lost for this crime.

When Mars reaches its zenith and Venus falls, armies shall gather to claim the promised one's birthright. this promised savior shall emerge, heralding the final battle where the Shivering Sea shall run red with the blood of the righteous and the wicked alike.

And then a tear fell from his eye and he closed his eyes to the world forever.

House Celestyr tag list: @emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

#house celestyr #hotd fanfic #house of dragons #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #house of dragon oc #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones oc #game of thrones #writing #story #fantasy #novel #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #a song of ice and fire #song of ice and fire #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader