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anundyingfidelity · 6 months

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FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader

Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.

Word count: 3.9k.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.

Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

It's harder to stay...

Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.

The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.

Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.

"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.

Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"

The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.

"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.

"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.

"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.

During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.

"So it's personal..."

"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.

"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

2029, Sacred Timeline

When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.

But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.

You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.

At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.

Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.

He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.

So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.

Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.

The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.

"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.

You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.

"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.

All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."

"Loki, I saw you die..."

Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.

"I know you did, my love."

You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.

And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.

"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"

Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.

"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."

"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."

"What?" you mumbled.

Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?

"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.

Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"

He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."

You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.

"Your death was supposed to be then?"

"Yes, it was."

"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.

Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.

Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.

"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"

"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.

You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."

Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"

"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."

"Or you could do both."

"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, Loki."

"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."

You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."

Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.

You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.

"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."

He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."

"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."

"No,I can't-"

"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."

Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.

"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."

And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."

Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.

When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.

"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.

Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."

His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.

You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."

"Thank you, love."

Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.

"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.

"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.

So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.

Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.

"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.

"I love you too."

Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.

The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.

So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.

He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.

Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.

At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.

"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."

"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.

"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.

"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.

"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."

And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.

You were right. Mobius was a good friend.

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #tva loki x reader #tva loki x female reader #tva!loki x reader #loki imagines #loki angst #loki laufesyon x reader #loki series fanfiction #loki season 2 #mcu loki x reader #mcu loki #loki series

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flowerandblood · 3 months

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The Fall from the Heavens (8)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism, suicide attempt, descriptions of wounding, coercion ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night she awoke in her uncle's embrace; the bed they were lying on was cramped, forcing them to lie with their legs and arms intertwined. When she fell asleep for the first time her uncle stood up and covered them with some blankets, immediately pulling her close again.

She felt with her rapidly beating heart that he was bare.

She let his fingers completely slide her nightgown off her, his such shameless closeness, the heat of his skin was shocking to her and took her breath away, lying snuggled into his chest she placed tender kisses on it.

"− sleep −" She heard him whisper softly in a low murmur, his hand combed through her hair; she felt his half-hard manhood throb hard against his words and hit her stomach.

Despite what he had done, the fact that she was sure she would not be able to sit up the next day, she let him take her a second time that night.

Their lips, innocently at first, sank into each other, the tips of their tongues began to lick again, and after a moment his hand lifted her thigh, throwing it around his waist, she felt the thick head of his cock pushing into her again from below.

This time it was she who slid her fingers down to her slit, opening it for him to help him, they moaned into each other's mouths, drunk and sleepy as the thrust of his hips slid his manhood deep inside her.

"− fuck, little one − I'm not sure I'll be able to stop −" He muttered, immediately beginning to root into her, with sure, deep pushes sinking into her again and again, her oversensitive, sore muscles clenching even tighter against him, whimpers on the edge of pleasure and pain escaping her lips.

She wasn't sure what he meant, but she knew that they were doing something from which there was no turning back.

"− I know − just a little longer − your uncle is close −" He breathed out, speeding up, no longer paying attention to the helpless sounds that rushed out of his throat with each of his thrusts, his one hand clenched on her buttocks, the other on her hair, their eyes closed, her nose pressed against his cheek, her breasts cuddled into his chest.

"− so good −" He hummed, rooting into her harder as she mewled at his words, her walls squeezing against him in involuntary reflex, sucking him inside.

"− Aemond −" She moaned, horrified at how her body reacted to him, how hot she felt, soaking him with each of his movements, feeling their mingled moisture run down her thigh onto the bed beneath them, their bodies slapping against each other with a loud click.

"− fuck − fuck − fuck − fuck − mghmm −" He breathed out; she heard his low, surprised groan of relief and pleasure, before once again that night his seed spilled deep inside her.

There was something obscene and terrifying about how close they were, that they were one in the proper sense of the word, one body, one quivering flesh.

She could feel his thick, swollen cock pulsing inside her for a moment longer as his mouth placed wet, messy kisses on her cheek, neck and bare shoulder, his hands trailing down her hot sweaty back.

"− mine − gods, I've been waiting for this for so long −" He sighed out in a shaky voice from which a shudder ran through her, as if he was moved, as if his throat tightened with the tears of relief, regret and fulfilment he felt at the same time as she did.

Her hand, clenched earlier on his arm, rose higher, to his cheek, directing him to her face, to her mouth, which after a moment joined his in a loud, sticky kiss of their lips and tongues.

She heard him grunt in pleasure, his half-soft length pulsed inside her betraying that, true to his word, with short breaks he could do this all night.

"− no more, uncle − too much −" She mumbled, feeling like she wouldn't be able to walk because of him, her poor muscles were barely able to fit him in when he was fully ready to take her again.

"− mmm −" He hummed and kissed her forehead before his arms snuggled her face into the hollow of his neck; she sighed in relief as he slowly and gently pulled his manhood out of her, sliding his knee between her thighs, their bodies entwined in a hot embrace full of their scent, the smell of their moisture, of what they had done.

"− you did so well for me − I'll have your evening meal brought to your bed tomorrow − you need to rest −" He whispered, as if she had performed some heroic feat by allowing him to sink into her twice in the same night.

She thought with a smile of amusement as she snuggled into his sweaty skin, sticky from the exertion, that he himself could not imagine his body could survive something like this and not be sore.

He clearly understood her need for recuperation and that as her husband he could not dissuade her from this, as it turned out, overpoweringly pleasurable act.

Although she tried to sleep, she kept returning her thoughts to what they had done, to the way he had undressed her, to his hot gaze filled with desire on the verge of madness when he had said to her, kneeling over her, untying his breeches with his fingers, that he needed to feel her, that he would not be violent.

She believed him, and he was not only not violent.

He was tender.

His soothing words, his slow thrusts full of uncertainty and longing, his eyebrows arched in pain as if he was suffering as much as she was, made her feel not that he was taking something away from her, but that they were experiencing something together, joining in each other's pain, never to be separated again.

She knew the alcohol had helped her to relax, her head humming wonderfully as each of his thrusts again and again teased some spot inside her from which shivers of pleasure ran through her.

"− you are so warm −" He whispered with despair, desire, love, as if he had finally returned to his haven like a ship that had spent years on the open sea during storms and tempests; she could only moan at his words, stunned by the pleasure and how much he filled her, struggling to fit him inside her.

It was so rough, so simple, so natural.

At the same time she was afraid of the consequences of their actions, on the other hand she was happy and satisfied, because she no longer had to be afraid of their wedding night, of whether she would live up to his expectations, whether she would not disappoint him.

She knew that in this rather brutal and unobvious way they had regained something, the kind of closeness they had been deprived of, and although she knew that big words would not leave their mouths and that some things they would never forgive each other for, she felt relieved.

He tried to find common ground with her, to speak with her, to show her that he could control his aggression, his grief, that he would do it for her if she would only reciprocate, if she would also make the effort and do something for him too.

When she was awakened by the first rays of sunshine she turned lazily to the other side with a quiet creak of the bed, meeting his chest into which she snuggled in a subconscious need for closeness, his arms immediately enclosing her again in his embrace, a quiet sigh escaping from his nostrils.

It was so peaceful.

They both flinched and pulled themselves up when they heard the loud voices of the guards.

"Out! Get dressed, everyone to the dungeons! Immediately!" Shouted one of them; she hugged his arm, terrified as someone's fist slammed hard on the door of their chamber.

"Leave it, there is no one here. Lead them to the cells, we need to find Prince Aemond and his little whore." Said the other man. She looked at him in disbelief, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart, saw that he was breathing fast, in his eye confusion and something else.

Fear.

"Uncle, what's happening?" She asked in a trembling voice, feeling betrayal hovering in the air, thinking only that he had taken her because he knew something was coming, that he had lied to her, that he surely intended to expose her to mockery and humiliation, that they were plotting against her mother.

"I don't know." He said coldly, swallowing loudly, his voice breaking as if he himself was shocked. He got up quickly from the bed and began to dress hurriedly, not looking at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Uncle, please, tell me you didn't plan this." She mumbled with tears of pain, helplessness and grief in her eyes, covering her mouth, feeling her naked body begin to tremble.

Only then did he look at her, frowning his eyebrows as if he didn't understand what she had just said to him.

"Stop it. Don't panic. You have to stay here until I find out what happened. Don't open up to anyone and don't go anywhere, do you understand?" He asked matter-of-factly, fastening the buckles of his tunic. She did not answer him, laying down on the bed without strength, letting the tears run down her cheeks, looking blankly towards the door.

He approached her slowly, kneeling in front of her; she shuddered when his large, slightly rough hand ran reassuringly over her bare back.

"− don't leave until I come back for you − lock the door behind me −" He said coolly, returning back to the stronghold of his mind, distancing himself, changing back into that terrifying man she didn't recognise.

She shuddered as he hummed under his breath and rose from his place, moving unhurriedly towards the door, pulling back the bolt only to disappear behind it a moment later.

She stood up on trembling legs, hurriedly putting on her nightgown, immediately locking the door, listening to the restless noises and sounds from outside.

What was happening?

Maybe she should run away, warn her mother?

But what if someone caught her, if there really was a rebellion?

There was nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.

She had no idea what to do, didn't know if she could trust this man she had given herself to that night, who had taken her for himself only to leave.

She covered herself with thick blankets and sat in silence, thinking about everything that had happened between them, finding with mockery and regret that she had lost her guard, that she had allowed herself to feel safe in the lion's den and was now paying the price.

She thought with tears in her eyes that Daemon had warned her.

Her terror increased with each passing hour when he did not return for her and she already knew something serious had happened. She prayed with closed eyes to the gods of her ancestors, asking them for strength and courage at the moment of trail.

She had no intention of begging them for mercy.

Even though she had sensed it, even though she had repeated to herself that she had to prepare for it, the voice of Criston Cole banging his fist on the chamber door, ordering her to open it immediately made her feel a chill of disappointment and bitterness fall over her, a confirmation of her worst fears.

He had used her.

He had betrayed her.

She knew there was no point in resisting, because she had nowhere to run to anyway, so she opened up to him. Seeing her negligee and the fact that she was wearing only a nightgown, he ordered several servants to be brought in, who, as terrified as she was, helped her dress. Cole stood near her with his head turned away, pretending to give her any kind of privacy.

When he told her to leave she simply did so, walking at his side through the completely empty Red Keep; she felt her heart pounding like mad and wondered what could have happened.

Did they keep her to come to terms with her mother?

She pressed her lips together at the thought, feeling tears of shame under her eyelids, and lifted her chin higher, refusing to let them flow, recognising that whatever happened, she would remain true to her family, that she would never allow herself to be humiliated in such a way again.

She was startled when Ser Criston led her to her old chamber, where the Queen was already waiting for her; she stood up at the sight of her, fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

She saw to her horror that she had open wounds around her nails that were bleeding.

The door behind them closed with a loud clatter of wood and they stood facing each other in silence for a moment, Cole standing just behind her, apparently making sure she didn't try to do anything that might endanger the Queen.

She should have bowed to her, but she didn't, looking straight into her eyes with fatigue and sadness, seeing in her gaze that what she suspected was happening was happening, that perhaps after her husband-king supported the idea of her and her son marrying again, Alicent and her father had proceeded to act.

She wondered if they had killed him.

"The King is dead, my love." The Queen said softly, and she involuntarily smiled, as if it amused her. She saw the discomfort on her face from which she felt satisfaction, a mental advantage she could use.

She answered nothing.

"Before he passed away, he confessed to me that he wished my eldest son to be crowned as his successor." She said in a voice straining for calm, and she burst into uncontrollable laughter full of mockery and disbelief, involuntarily covering her mouth with her hand, shaking her head, despair in her eyes, her eyebrows arched in pain.

He was busying himself with her body as they crowned this drunkard and rapist King.

"You had it all planned, didn't you? Is that why you kept me here?" She asked coldly, Alicent shook her head quickly, pale; there were bruises under her eyes, her fingers involuntarily began to scratch the wounds around her nails.

"No. I know you both ran away yesterday. What you did. You need to tell me if my son did this against your will. Do you need help." She muttered, lowering her gaze, as if she was overwhelmed with shame at the thought of what she had apparently imagined in her head.

She snorted under her breath, looking at her in disbelief, wondering if this was part of their game, or if they wanted to fool her into not knowing what was true and what wasn't anymore.

"Your son has done nothing against my will. I want to return to Dragonstone." She said dispassionately, wondering if she felt now as he did when he lost his eye, when she didn't come to him that night, when in his mind she chose her family over his.

An overpowering, deep, empty black abyss.

"It's impossible." She said in a trembling voice, and she looked at her with rage, feeling fire rather than blood pulsing through her veins, her lips clenched into a thin line.

"I am your prisoner now?" She grinned feeling her whole body begin to quiver in rage.

Eternally pretending to be saints and wronged, fucking traitors.

"It would be better if we make sure there are no unpleasant…consequences." She said tiredly, as if she hadn't noticed her anger or heard her question; at her words her heart stopped, her anger turned to sudden, overpowering fear, cold sweat on the back of her neck.

No.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

"No. You will not force me." She said in a trembling voice, stepping backwards, falling right into Criston Cole's hands, which clamped painfully tight on her arms, like pincers from which she could not break free.

"Please, do not resist. It will be better for all of us." Said the Queen and nodded, the door to her chamber opened; she looked in horror at the servant with the small kettle and vessel, behind her several guards stepped inside.

She shook her head, breathing loudly through her mouth, looking at her pleadingly, feeling tears squeezing under her eyelids.

She didn't want this, this was her body, if the gods so chose, her child could grow in her womb.

"− no, please, please, please −" She mumbled, forgetting what she had promised herself, her dignity, her coolness, for here, though she was filled with the seed of a man who had betrayed her, who had humiliated her, the fruit of that could be a child she could perhaps love, who would possibly be the cause of any reason for joy in her life.

With the eyes of her imagination she saw a small, laughing child with his white hair and her bright eyes looking at the great vessel from which steam was rising, warming the dragon's egg.

She felt the guard's hand clamp down on her cheeks, tilting her head back, forcing her to open her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks, a squeal broke from her throat as the other man began to pour the disgusting liquid into her mouth, she tried to spit it out but to no avail, she felt it run down her throat.

It was done.

When they finally let her go she simply fell to the ground, her breathing loud, shuddering and hitched, her face red with tears of fear and sorrow.

Some part of her wondered why he wasn't here, why he hadn't stopped it, whether he had wanted to condemn her to such suffering from the very beginning.

She heard the rustling of Alicent's gown as she approached her slowly, felt her hand on her back and moved away immediately, looking at her with hatred.

"Get out." She said to her coldly without any courtesy; she could see the tears in her eyes but decided that they were mere theatre, that she had no right to sympathise after what she and her son had done to her.

She felt Criston Cole grab her tightly by her hair, tilting her head back in a sudden, violent gesture.

"How dare you speak to your Queen this way, you…" He didn't finish as she spat in his face; he closed his eyes quickly and hissed, wiping away her saliva with his hand. She heard Alicent scream as he slapped her across the face with all his strength − she fell to the floor, panting heavily, feeling like everything was spinning around her.

"As mother, so daughter. Fucking whore."

"Criston, for gods sake! Get out, now, all of you!" The Queen shouted, pulling him away from her; she could hear his enraged breathing, and after a moment, he and the others assembled stepped back, leaving one by one.

Although she could feel her gaze on her, she no longer bestowed a single glance on the mother of the man who only a few hours ago had been her beloved, her protector, the one she had chosen.

"It will be better this way. I wish to come to an agreement with your mother so that she can marry you off to her cousin according to her will. Rest now." She whispered in a trembling, quiet voice and left, closing the door behind her, she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock.

I wish to come to an agreement with your mother so that she can marry you off to her cousin according to her will.

She grinned involuntarily at the thought that her uncle had never had any intention of defying his mother, that this was all just a spectacle, his revenge. That he would marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, that he would watch with pride and satisfaction as she walked away, stripped of virtue and dignity, robbed of everything she could value in herself as a woman.

She lay on the cold stone floor for a moment, staring blankly ahead, feeling that the cheek Criston Cole had slapped her on was pulsing all over. After a moment her hand slowly slid down to her womb; she clamped her fingers on the material of her gown and wept quietly, clenching her eyes shut, allowing herself to experience some kind of grief.

She lasted like this for some time, wondering what she should do and she decided that there was no other choice.

As long as she was here her mother had no option to act, she could not reclaim the crown that was her inheritance.

She thought she was to blame and had to rise to the occasion now.

She had to make a manly decision, as Daemon had always told her, and turn the situation around, take back their advantage.

When she was still a child, her mother had given her a small dagger, which she had told her to keep in a place only she knew of, so that when she needed to defend herself against someone she could reach for it.

She stood up slowly, heading calmly towards her bed, putting her hand deep between the wooden frame and the bedding − she smiled involuntarily as she felt the cold steel beneath her fingers.

She pulled it out, laying back comfortably on the bedclothes, turning it in her hands, thinking that this was her escape, proof of her independence, of the fact that she had the last word.

She hesitated for a moment as she pressed the blade to her wrist, feeling terror, fear of death and of pain, regret that she could still see so much, experience so much.

She sighed quietly and felt tears running down the sides of her face onto the pillow under her head as she began to slice her skin with her trembling hand, she shuddered when she saw that immediately blood began to run from the red line.

She pressed her lips together trying to hold back a hiss of discomfort as she repeated the cut on her other wrist, and then just lay back, feeling the rapid pounding of her terrified heart, thinking with sorrow that she had never felt so alone and miserable than she did now, at the moment of her death.

She wondered if this was how he had felt that night when he lost his eye and cried, mourning for herself and the little boy who had died then.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

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reqxxyt · 9 months

Text

why not december

pairings: oscar p. x f!reader

summary: after discovering the man who once had your heart soaring from a glance was your bestfriends boyfriend, you are confronted with conflicting feelings, needing them to die down but all they do is grow the longer you know him. (part one)

disclaimer: heavily inspired by 'One Day in December' Josie Silver. This is a part two to 'followed by december'

warning: angst, falling in love at first sight, reader is a homewrecker..., cursing

masterlist requests are open!

[uedited] 2.5k

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“y/n?” What was it that made your heart go on a mile drive when you heard your own name called by him? Clearly, your silence as a response didn’t work in your favor, walking forward now leaning against the railing beside you, where you once had peace of mind. The silence lasted only a couple of moments before he finally began “Do you by any chance-”

“y/n!” was now your sister calling for you and looking for any chance to escape, you glanced at him for a second before excusing yourself grateful she cut him off. You walked up to your sister with a soft smile, appearing fine. Because you had to. “Have you received any news on the photographer?”

“Yeah, he’s already at the reception” you reassured her, allowing her to take a deep breath knowing how stressful weddings can be, it took a lot to convince her to have a big wedding from your mom but in the end, your sister ended up winning (being the bride and all) but even then, a small wedding is just as stressful. So you hand her your best smile, a genuine one meaning to reassure “Don’t worry about anything, I got this”

“You’re the best” she complimented and while you usually answered with an ‘always’, you found yourself staying silent, a tight smile tugging on your lips, almost forceful but your sister, already juggling with enough possible problems, didn't notice.

A couple of hours later you managed to not run into Oscar with having to arrange the reception and making sure everything stood perfect until it officially started, guests pouring into their designated places. Until you finally realized, because Martha was the only bearable person that wasn’t your sister, you and she had to sit together. She and Oscar, because he was her plus one.

Why didn’t you realize this sooner? Now, you had no choice but to eat in front of the person that nearly made you want to throw up, feeling guilty. Instead of enjoying the food, you found yourself picking at it.

“You okay, y/n?” Martha's sympathetic gaze met yours, which was meant to help but was indeed doing the opposite.

“Not hungry” you made a poor excuse before glancing at Oscar, taking a quick breath. You needed to appear normal, and while normally you hated interacting with others, you needed to appear like a good friend, because at the moment you felt like a terrible one “So, uhh Oscar, do you study?”

You didn’t miss his look of surprise, you instigated the conversation. But it was your poor excuse for trying to appear normal. Hey, maybe he had a terrible personality in compatibility? That was your only hope at this point.

“Yeah, literature and English,” he said, taking a sip of his drink and now you find yourself to be stunned. Martha gave you a proud smile, knowing it was the same major as yours. She really wanted you to get along with him.

“That's– that's great” You nod with a small smile, not being able to form a proper sentence. He gave you a soft smile, his eyes brightening but you blamed it on the lights behind you.

“Yeah, Martha told me you study the same. What university?” He placed his fork down, putting his all attention on you. There seemed to be something behind those eyes, recognition almost but you doubted it. It's been a year, and you never spoke to him up until today, but your heart is aching either way.

“Adelaide,” you told him, nodding along and his smile only got bigger, you wanted to sink lower into your chair. You took a glance at Martha, and she only held a comfortable smile, no sign of anything wrong. The pit in your stomach grew, in any other scenario you would probably lie to him, make him believe you weren't the girl that made him stop and stare a year ago. But Martha knew everything about you.

“She spent the entire month in the library, practically had to drag her out of there last year” Martha joked and internal panic started to settle, knowing where she was going with this when you spotted the spark in her eyes, “Hey, Oscar does too, maybe he knows about-“

“I moved on” you replied quickly and she gave you a strange look, confused to say the least before turning back to Oscar seeing his curious gaze now. Looking back at Martha with a small smile “It was silly anyway”

“Oh, okay” Martha’s gaze dropped, a bit disappointed, taking a sip of her champagne before the presentation began and just like everything my sister, Isabella wanted, it was perfect. Except for the constant glances you would hand to Oscar, to which he glanced at Martha. Forcing your eyes back on the center couple, you lifted your gaze, smile dropped an inch as you clapped along with everyone, canceling out the thunder of your heartbeat.

Oscar went to the bathroom after that, Martha took another sip of her champagne, turning to me with a mischievous yet excited smile on her features, one that pinched her eyes, a blush slowly but surely rising onto her cheeks.

"So?" she asked, you gave her a raised eyebrow, pretending to be confused because the last thing you wanted to do was spill your feelings about her boyfriend who she seemed to be fawning over as well. "Oscar," she said, and the way the name so simply rolled out of her mouth, you had to swallow the lump in your throat that began to form. She was clearly in the process of falling in love and you hated the thought of being the one to wreck that.

"Yeah, he's great" again, a forced smile. But Martha recognized it, immediately dropping her smile making your heart quicken.

"Just great?" her words don't sound convinced, barely heard over the music blasting. You hated the look on her face, disappointed. But because she was Martha, she took in a deep breath after a silent response, putting back her smile only smaller this time "Do you like him?"

"What?" you couldn't tell if your stomach dropped or if you malfunctioned in the moment but to the best of your attempt, you shook your head, a laugh, one wanting to be genuinely exiting, realizing what she meant, "I think he's perfect for you"

"you think?" her own eyes grew in adoration at the thought that he could be the one, while you clenched your jaw nodding with a small, soft smile before Oscar could arrive back, inviting Martha out to the dance floor leaving you at the table with only your niece in sight, who held her iPad in her hands.

Only an hour later, Martha stumbled back to her chair with a chuckling Oscar, having his arm around her waist as support. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle, seeing her state as you helped her sit down, you gave a glance to Oscar noticing his flushed cheeks, probably having a few drinks himself and you can't help but think back to last year, his red tinted cheeks and nose, caused by the cold. You wonder if they would do the same now, but you looked away before he could notice your stare.

"I guess I learned how much of a lightweight she can be" he tried to joke but you could only let out a small smile.

Only a couple of moments later, Martha had slung herself forward, resting her head on the table, sound asleep. You wonder how it was possible, considering the music being blasted but just rubbed her back instead.

"What year did you graduate?" Oscar suddenly asked, you almost didn't hear him but you swallowed whatever you normally would try to pull and decided: fuck it, you can befriend him because once thing you didn't want to appear as a bitch that wouldn't talk to her best friends boyfriend just because of a silly thing… very silly (send prayers).

"2021" you said simply, not in a rude way, glancing up at him to answer his own question.

"2020" he said, understanding your look. "Martha told me you're into films, any favorites?"

A smile naturally rose to your cheeks, sparking an interest in the conversation, and just like that, you found yourself having the best conversation you've ever held in your life. Questions were thrown, answers were given, and while some lead to arguments and disagreements they ended with laughter. You've never felt so close to someone in such a small amount of time.

It was only until midnight when you realized how late it was getting, servers picking up empty plates and the music began to repeat. Your sister gave you a glance, seeing you enjoy yourself not taking notice of who exactly it was that had your heart open in such a way that your natural smile and laughter would leak.

"I'll take her home" you offered and Oscar nodded, not wanting to argue but either way you took his offer of having him help carry her to your car. On the walk over, the moments were silent until Oscar said

"if only you didn't leave so soon last year" making you stop in your tracks, you wanted, to dare yourself to believe you had misheard him. But he looked back, still with his arm around your best friend only a couple of feet from your car. Something between an amused smile and a small smirk on display as he tilted his head at you "You forgot, huh?"

You considered lying, hell you should've but instead, you said, softly "No, I didn't" before looking back down, forcing a foot in front of the other before you got to your passenger door, opening it for him to place Martha inside, an insane good excuse as to why he should've never brought it up.

"I never saw you after that" he whispered, but you shook your head not allowing his words to register long enough to travel where it hurt most. Before he could reach out, you stepped back, wrapping your arms against your chest, body disgusted by all the wants you wanted at the moment.

Your first thoughts should've been Martha. You were about to open your mouth to say something, but quickly closed it once spotting his upset look dropping whatever speech you made up in a matter of seconds.

"I know we shouldn't-" he started.

"No. Don't say anything" you interrupted him, shaking your head not sure if angry at yourself or just overall upset. "Whatever happened last year was clearly just some fucked feelings that occurred after a series of sleepless nights."

"So you feel nothing at the moment?" he countered, taking a step forward. "Absolutely nothing?" his voice low, in a desperate tone, daring me to say the words, ones that he both didn't and wanted nothing more than to hear.

"No," you said softly, now at a small distance to where you could smell his cologne, mixed with Martha and you felt your own heartache at the familiar scent, stomach-churning now. You shake your head "I can't do this to Martha" stepping beside him and getting in the car, driving the miles to where you hoped he would be buried in your thoughts.

You felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except for guilt as you glanced at Martha for the feelings you held for her boyfriend. Absolutely nothing, your head told you.

"we broke up" with stained makeup, Martha walked into your bedroom only two months later and you immediately sat up at the news. With a crack in her voice, she softly asked "That's okay, right? You never like him anyway?"

You swallowed the pit back into your stomach, just nodding for encouragement. The truth was that after the wedding, you made up excuses to not hang out with them, denying any plans that could involve him.

"No, he was a douche" made her chuckle, just hearing her laugh made the corners of your lips lift up. You never wanted to hurt her, had no intention.

You spent the entire day comforting her and by the end of it, as expected went to the club. Getting wasted with her, although to your high dislike of alcohol, allowed her to drag you to try a couple of sips. The morning after, Martha ended up at some guy's place while you decided to go back home.

Yet, with very little alcohol having drunk, you still woke up with a throbbing headache. Driving yourself to the local coffee shop, just as a treat, which ended you in front of a bookstore you've been meaning to visit.

Sipping on your coffee did little to relieve your headache as you scattered around to look for books of interest.

"stalking me, y/n?" the soft, teasing voice nearly sent you to drop the book you were holding. You instead swallowed your fright, looking up at him seeing him with a small smile. Just as you expected, Oscar "It's been a while"

"Yeah," you only said, about to walk away. This was wrong. Not sure whether worse but wrong in any sense.

"Are you really trying to ignore me now?" His surprised but upset tone followed you through every corner at a fast pace. "I'm not trying to start anything" Exhaustion being heard is what now makes your tracks slow down before coming to a stop.

"You broke up with her, why?" you turned to him, looking up at him still in a hushed town, aware of their surroundings. He gave you a look of confusion, shaking his head.

"Is that what she told you?" he asked, looking a bit irritated and you only nodded, now the one confused. "She broke up with me. Said she noticed how I fell out of love with her. Said the spark was no longer there"

Your eyes narrowed up at him, realizing he was telling the truth, either that or he was one hell of a good liar but remembering from the wedding, he wasn't the best. "She always was a romantic" You can't help but release a soft smile, thinking about it. Yes, Martha believed in love, she wasn't the only one, but she was a hopeless romantic, believed that the second a relationship loses its spark, its game over, onto the next.

His eyes gathered a cloud of sadness, "yeah" a small whisper. "Look I know, normally an ex-girlfriend's friend is off limits but" he paused, taking in a quick breath and you can't help but hold yours "Why not, just try being friends? I don't want to lose our spark.. of friendship obviously"

Biting your lip, thinking for a moment as your head pounding was interfering with your moral thoughts, saying a simple "Sure, I can do that"

୨♡୧⠀

tags: @ladywhistledownx @almostjollypizza @hevburn @81astri @thatsdemko @elamultistan

hope i didn't disappoint-

#oscar piastri #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #reader insert #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #angst

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sevenpoyo · 8 months

Text

some brooklyn slang ik for all the ppl who wanna write for miles and kilometers‼️

feel free to add more idk everything but i i am originally from there and visit a lot this stuff i hear a lot and if you wanna add slang to ur writing this is a good place to start, not all of these brooklyn or ny exclusive but that’s where a lot of american slang starts and u prolly heard some of it b4. imma list it ne ways

don’t use like 8 of these in one sentence bc it will sound weird and i can’t really cover ny puerto rican slang or any puerto rican slang really bc my grandad is a bum so if you know some add it

the city is manhattan, not the other 4 burroughs, just manhattan, cus that’s where everything’s at

to cut ass is to roast tf out of someone , to get your ass cut is get tf roasted out of you

wyling/wilding is being outta pocket, something being absurd or crazy

yeah nah means no and nah yeah means yeah idk why they gotta make it complicated just look at the second word

good looks is like good looking out

it’s bout to be winter and i’m bout to see mad christmas fics and shit but do y’all know the proper way to describe cold ny winters?

if it’s cold as hell, it’s brick outside, not regular cold, ny winter is like nipples so hard i see em thru the bra cold

ex; “how it’s so brick outside i walk to the store wit my hair wet and it deadass got icicles in it” “yeah it’s fr brick outside today” “i’m not walkin wit u in this brick ass weather for a bacon egg and cheese?” (actual convo between my sister and me last winter break)

fronting seem kinda easy to me but is like acting or pretending i can’t explain it with out an example

“why you fronting like you wouldn’t die if they text you asking u to go out with them” “you can stop fronting like you like cars it cool if you don’t” “don’t sit there fronting like u don’t wanna dance wit me”

being tight over something is just being upset or annoyed

rj is so smart they said “We say tight bc you kinda huddle close to yourself when you tense/stressed or angry” i had no idea i just be saying it i aint know it had a reason💀 it make sm sense now.

“who got you tight like that this early in the morning?” “my momma came home tight yesterday for no reason, she threw a boot at me!” “i’m so tight this damn shift change has me working all closers this week”

jack is like claiming someone or something

i talk old as hell idk what the youths be jacking nowadays

cop is basically to get, used to be mostly 4 drugs back in the day my dad said (he don’t know why im asking him this)

“just copped me some retro 3’s” “bout to cop me a few percs in a minute”

speaking of a minute, mostly for my non americans bc that’s who get confused the most when i say this one. depending on the context this can mean a actual minute, a short time or a real long

“i’ll be back in a minute” is short “i ain’t seen y’all in a minute” is long. idk how to explain the difference besides context

bop is a good song, pretty easy but i see ppl on tiktok use it wrong

bangs/banger goes hard is kinda like bob for music but i be using it for anything fr

“this push pop is banging yo”

mad can be used normal like angry but it also means a lot or really kinda like hella ig? i usually uses hella when i would say mad so ppl can understand me easier up here

dumb also mean very in the same way

ex; “my english teacher give out mad homework for no reason.” “she be giving me mad shit over the smallest stuff” “i just had some mad good wings so i’m cooling rn” “this shit is mad spicy u sure you want some?” ''This shit got me dumb tight'' “you don’t need no jacket it’s dumb hot out here”

smacked is like high as fuck idk how to elaborate ur just high

lit is drunk

“Yuuuur!'' A signal, a greeting usually used to catch the attention of someone or something very fun greeting and very hated by schools, it’s weird anywhere outside of ny kinda at least to me.

being hollywood means u get a little fame and think ur all that or just that u got a little fame and they’re jokingly hating

ex; “i saw u on the news the other day, “the prowlers return” u must be real proud of yourself huh hollywood?” “and here comes hollywood wit his trending tiktoks”

real talk is when ur about confess something or say something serious in a not real serious setting or convo

“real talk we play a lot but i love you, my life would be boring with out you around” “real talk i’d never do that to you foreal”

go together is like go out kinda, y’all kinda match behavior cus y’all a couple, this one need a sentence 2 i think. (THIS ONE IS OLD AS HELL ONLY USE IT IF UR TRYING TO RIZZ MOMMA RIO)

“he want ur number? he don’t know we we go together or sum?” “why she wanna act like we go together, ion even know her?” “don’t we go together?”

i can’t even explain it with a sentence y’all just gotta figure this one out 💀

A bodega/deli is a convenience store ik most know this from the movie but some ppl think it’s all stores or all spanish stores when it’s just a corner store

the owners of the deli closest to my granddad house is muslim. and so we keep track of all muslim holidays when he’s closed

an ock is the bodega man, miles knows the man’s name at the deli we see him visit, but at any other store he’d call the guy ock

dipping on someone is changing ur mind last minute, usually canceling plans

ex “we was supposed to go get outfits together but they dipped on me last minute”

staticky is like wanting to fight or still being pissed after a fight

static is beef or on sight energy

you good can really be anything but imma list ones i can think of

it can mean like are you ok? or don’t worry about it, or how are you, or stop, or do you got a issue? or do you want an issue? it’s all in the tone of how it’s said fr

'Word of my moms/dads I saw/ did/did not *insert topic*'' Honest term, no lying present in statement i feel like (my cousins be putting anything on they momma fr risking shit on her for no reason)

'hold it down'' handle buisness / take care of someone or something. can also be in refrence to criminal who handles ''buisness''

NOW EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @rashadisback BC HE CARRIED ME ON THIS‼️

i hope this helps any writers that don’t live here!

#42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv

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jester089 · 6 months

Note

Hello! Today I rewatched Titanic for the hundredth time, so I had an idea: https://youtu.be/EyPpMaIBgkI?feature=shared

do you know this scene in Titanic? In any case, here it is,if you haven’t seen this movie (I highly recommend it, crying every time lmao)

So, imagine that Rose is a character (Jax, Pomni, Caine/Kinger) and Jack is the reader

the reader (their s/o) begins to abstracting , the characters understandably end up next to the reader at this moment in a hope to stop the process, but then both realize that nothing helps, and before going completely crazy, the reader begins to calm down characters (just repeat lines from this scene lol) How would the characters react? I'm really interested in Jax's reaction.

P.S. If it’s not difficult, briefly describe how the characters will behave after the death of their s/o

So sorry for my English is so bad!!! I am not speaking it, hope you having a good day/night!!🫶🫶💋

Boat movie

Thank you for the request! I apologize to any Caine or Jax fans who hate how I write them. But hey you can always just not read it, and I write em how they are. Not how we all want em. From this post on I'm going to ask you all add something to your requests. When requesting either Caine or Jax specify if you want the real ones or the softer loving ones. Thanks! Caine, Kinger, Jax, & Pomni's reactions to Reader dying/abstracting in front of them/in their hands

Caine

You definitely aren't the first. And probably wont be the last. He understands that humans for whatever reason don't want to die alone so he stays with you. He stays there sitting next to you on the floor as you progressively get more and more glitched. Sadly he doesn't catch much of what you say as his mind is mainly just ready to put you in the cellar so you don't hurt anyone. Once your abstracted and in the cellar he moves on. Sure he felt slightly closer to you then with all the others digital circus's inhabitants but he'll get past it. Nothing really changes in the long run.

Kinger

Kinger found you abstracting and was about to turn tail and run to find help but you begged him not to leave. That's how you got to where you are Kinger holding you close while you gently cup his face. He listened to every word you said about how he was gonna get out of there and live his life. Have kids and die safe in his home surrounded by loved ones. He permanently searing every word into his brain. As you lean up to give him one last kiss before you fall off the deep end and abstract forcing Kinger to let go of you. He is crazy yes, but he's tough. And losing you makes him want to give up. But he'll get out of this place and live his life. If not for himself, for you.

Jax

Jax was sitting with you as you abstracted. He was just going to leave and do something else, but your pitiful glitchy voice got him to stay. He sits there staring at you as you progressively get worse not even listening to what your saying, his mind wandering to what he would rather be doing. Once you fully abstract he gets up and sprints away so he doesn't get hurt then leaves you alone to rampage about. Not his problem. Hey if someone else dies to you maybe their death will be funnier then yours.

Pomni

Pomni stayed with you. Despite every bit of code in her being telling to run and get Caine she knew she wouldn't be able to in time. So she stayed and held you gently using everything she had in her to not show how she felt. So you could have someone, have her there with you when you went. She listened to your final words and did her best to remember the feeling of you gently kissing her. Once you were gone she went straight to her room to be alone, and to write something down. In a journal Ragatha gave Pomni to try and help with stress she writes down you. You personality, your final words. And she draws you, draws you how you are (were). She isn't going to forget you. She will get out of this place. And if, no WHEN she does she's going to give you a proper burial. She doesn't have your body but she isn't just going to be the last thing she remembers of you, you or a version of you trying to kill her. (I'm feeling a little burnt out on angst asks. But I did enjoy writing this.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #kinger x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

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darthstitch · 2 years

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Matthew has Feelings about his Boss.

Not like THAT, you goddamn pervs. He has Feelings for his Boss the same way that chick in that Brooklyn 99 meme had about that puppy. Like, "I've only had Dream of the Endless as my Boss for about two minutes but if any of you motherfuckers hurt him, I have a very particular set of skills that will make me a nightmare for people like you."

Yeah, he's mashing up his references, but Matthew doesn't care. His Nibbly Darkness, the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares has had a shit time this past century, no thanks to his bastard bitch of a sibling and seriously, Matthew thinks it's seventeen thousand kinds of fucked up that their idea of teaching their brother a "lesson" involves imprisonment, innocents caught in the crossfire and potential murder.

So yeah, Matthew is perfectly willing to throw down for his Boss if he has to.

Except his Boss still has nightmares about poor Jessamy and it's manifesting itself in being oddly protective over Matthew in the absolute worst way. Like, he's the Raven for Dream of the Endless now - he's got a job to do and maybe sometimes that has an element of risk to it but those are the breaks right? Dream can't keep Matthew from attending to his duties and he's gonna do them, come hell or high water.

And the perks are like, super amazing, because flying, woo to the hoo! There's some magic stuff and some secret raven tricks that Lucienne has been teaching him, because she used to be Dream's Raven too.

He's also got nesting privileges now, because it's nice to get some shut-eye in the Boss' coat. It's hilarious because Dream will be all exasperated and say, "Matthew" in this long-suffering tone, but he accompanies that with gentle pets along Matthew's feathers and there's a tiny sweet smile playing about his lips. Dream reserves those smiles just for a very select few - which currently includes the boyfriend that Matthew thoroughly approves of - and Matthew's proud to be one of them.

Matthew remembers the first time he got a proper hug from the Boss, which had scared off several years of his life. And that was mostly because he felt real tears soak through his feathers and it was kind of awkward to manage a "there, there" with a wing but Matthew made it work somehow.

He was a little proud that he did manage to coax his sad wet cat of a Boss out of whatever melancholic funk that Dream found himself in but yeah, that made Matthew nervous, because he knows all the signs of depression when he sees them and this is not a task one single Raven can undertake alone.

Well, Lucienne actually said that first, when she first recruited Matthew. He's taken them to heart.

Mervyn was another one they'd nabbed along, because while Mervyn might have a mouth on him and tact wasn't exactly a word in his dictionary, but Mervyn was good people in the end. The next was Abel, with Goldie peeping along. Then, thank the Creator, they'd finally managed to grab Hob Gadling who was a goddamn gift to them all, even if they had to put up with the occasional flower showers or the inadvertent appearance of blooms in every nook and cranny of the Castle.

There was this one time, where they were all in the Dreaming's version of the New Inn, where Lucienne had finally gotten drunk enough to reveal one very important secret about the Boss.

There was a lot of swearing, and Matthew had to appreciate Hob Gadling for the colorful Middle English swearwords, which kinda had a weird harmony with Mervyn's cussing. But basically, it all amounted to a collective NOPE from everyone in this conspiracy. This wasn't going to happen. Not to their Morpheus. Not on their watch.

Dreams don't fucking die, Matthew had once said to his Boss, down deep in the bowels of literal Hell, with the Morningstar Herself about to move in for the kill. He's gonna make good and goddamn sure that Dream of the Endless will stay alive. He'll always have his Raven to guard his back for him.

-end-

#matthew the raven #dream of the endless #dreamling #lucienne #hob gadling #dream and his ravens #matthew has all the fight me vibes #matthew is ride or die for da Boss okay #this is a matthew appreciation blog

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smolvenger · 7 months

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The Tavern Prince (Prince Hal x fem! Y/N Oneshot)

Summary: You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern...and your mind about him starts to change.

Warnings: Smut at the end!! 18+ NSFW! (thigh riding, fingering, loss of virginity, dirty talk, good ol' p in v). Reader is super Proper and Prim and has a stick up her butt just because I wanted her to in this fic for the drama and tension of paring her with Hal (and I'm sick of Pick Me Girls in Historic Fiction. So Much) Mentions of sex and cheating (but no actual cheating, our boy would never. Trust me, I'm a Shakespeare expert). Not believable, but we're running on vibes, not accuracy so forget that couples were chaperoned or whatever. References to Shakespeare's plays and words (like "Die"= slang for orgasm and "wag"= boy).

Word Count: 9K (get some water, besties, and whores)

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "sweetest of ladies" and ends at "Hal...I have no words.." btw bestie for your comfort) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr

“Y/N, we have something very exciting to announce. The king has given his consent. You are going to marry the prince…” your father announced to you at the table. Your mother nodded her head beside him.

You let a smile spread across your face. You were so thrilled you held your breath for a second. This was an honor beyond anything you could comprehend of what he would say. How many would want that honor? What woman didn’t want to be a princess? There were many princes in the world, but it had to be one of the English princes. They couldn’t mean some other country. The English king had four sons- which one was your groom? Likely not the youngest two- Humphrey and Thomas. They were boys, far too young for marriage.

That meant- the second eldest son! You interrupted in your excitement.

“Oh! I am to marry John of Lancaster! Oh, mother-father! How wonderful! He’s the sweetest youth- and he is always at each meeting with his father, the king! Oh, what a good husband he will be! I am so hap-”

“Y/N, I believe you misunderstood us,” your mother cut in.

You froze, blinking quickly.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “I’m not marrying a prince?”

“No, you are…” replied your mother.

If not Humphrey, if not Thomas, if not John…that left one English prince.

They smiled and took your hands across the table.

“The one who matters. The one who will make you one day queen of England through your union…”

Oh no, you thought, God’s blood, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, please, please oh Lord Above- please not him please not-

“You betrothed to his grace, the Prince of Wales, Henry Lancaster…”

It felt like a punch. You blinked, and your voice got smaller.

“You mean…Prince Harry?” you asked.

“Oh, yes, dear girl! Our daughter- Princess of Wales and then Queen of England!” your mother cooed. She went up and hugged you. Not that she could see the frown growing on your face.

Your father kissed your forehead. You put on a small smile. A practice one when they were looking. You swallowed it back.

You should have been thrilled to find out you were marrying the prince of Wales, the heir to England, to Bolingbroke, to the Lancasters. Your rational mind knew it was a huge honor.

But married to Prince Harry- no, Hal! That was what his vile friends all called him! Seems fit you should think of him as such!

Hal, the rake. The riotous son. The dishonorable son. The one with a dozen prostitutes at his heels! He even wore a glove from one to a joust once! The rebel. The drunk. The prankster. The scoundrel. The son his father wished could be swapped for another- everyone knew that. The reason why John of Lancaster was always in court? Because Hal was so little seen in the castle and at events and never appeared! Shirking his responsibilities to hang around bars! With seedy thieves and criminals and who knows what else!

You were not strangers. You had spoken with him the few times he had been in court. Your parents were good friends and old allies of Henry Bolingbroke before the chaotic events that crowned him. The few banquets Hal appeared, you were there. He only appeared at that ball a few days ago. You did have a dance with him. He spoke some, no more than polite subjects and small talk. But he seemed bored. Perhaps his father was breathing down his neck not to sneak out.

This was to be your husband?!! And this was to be the king?! The one not even his own father could be proud of?! Bound to until only Death did you Part!?

When you went to your private quarters, and no one was around, you went to your bed and screamed into your pillow.

You could already see your married life. Picture it in your head. Princess Y/N and Prince Hal, soon King Hal and Queen Y/N. The banquets would be a mess. Late into the night, there would be crowds of dirty, smelly people. Laughing with food still in their mouths and spitting and pissing all over the banquet halls. There would be thieves trying to reach to grab the jewels on you. Or try to grope you, only there would be no protection. So many drunkards vomiting all over the pretty stone hallways and throwing rocks through the tall windows.

Your waking vision of your future spiraled further in your head. You knew you would have separate quarters. You would have to go alone- you knew your husband's bed would have one if not two if not four ladies of the night to pleasure him until dawn. Or he would go into your room, bold and drunk with liquor and lust. He had the right to barge in when he wanted now.

It made you want to cry.

Three days later, there was a celebratory dinner at the castle for the betrothal announcement. All of you sat down. You were decked in a dark green dress and some jewelry given to you. To make you seem more regal. Not that it made you feel that way. You sat with your family, the King of England wrapped in his dark furs. The three younger Lancaster brothers all looked at you with small smiles- perhaps looking forward to having a sister-in-law. There was just one very crucial seat next to you left empty.

Of course, once the wine was poured and dishes were just set, in strode in, red leather jacket, hat, and all, none other than your intended.

You hated that he was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. An ivory face with tall cheekbones, a high forehead, and blue eyes. Tall and lean. He waltzed in with a slight smirk. His arms dangling back and forth so casually. A slight smile on his face.

“I apologize, I am late, I know!” he announced.

The king stood up, his hands over his thick, dark robe on his hips. Following him, everyone else rose up

“Harry-where have you been?! We were just about to dine at your betrothal dinner!” he chided.

“Only getting ready, father! I wanted to be more presentable-” he insisted, still standing.

“You will be punctual in the future, especially to show respect to your bride!” the king added on, gesturing to where you sat.

You only looked down at your plate. Bride, bride, bride. Once you thought of the word like a dream, like the word “fairy.” Something light and lilting- surreal and beautiful. Something you could attain too. But it only made your stomach curl.

You could feel Hal’s eyes, already on you. Then he walked forward and pulled out the chair next to you.

As the king sat down, all sat down.

Everyone began to eat. You barely could look at Hal. When you did, you found his eyes would drift up to see you. Then at once, you pulled yours down. Then your mother boasted of you.

“Our daughter- she was raised in a convent as any lady should be. The nuns all praised her as a good student- so quiet, ladylike, and diligent in her studies. She is learning all the dances done at parties. Oh- and her needlework is wonderful!”

You stood up, nodding.

“Yes! I sewed on little strawberries on my handkerchief! And I am making some new needlework of a pink rose, like the ones in the springtime-”

Your voice cut you off. Aware you were gushing so much. It wasn’t just the fact that the king watched. He was so used to his sons that a younger female presence was fascinating. King Henry the Fourth himself looked at you with a smile and soft eyes.

No- because Hal was listening and watching. you swallowed and looked next to you. Hal’s face was neutral. He leaned on the table, a mouth over his lip, scratching his chin. You saw him swallow a little and then look back down at his meal.

He didn’t like you. Didn’t even like you, you knew it. He was already thinking of how boring you were! You did have a cousin named Beatrice. She was the one who was climbing trees, and talking saucily to everyone and rebelling and speaking and laughing wildly. If only she wasn’t married by now! Then your family would throw her Hal’s way and they would be happy! If he had to marry at all, it should be someone like her! Not like…not like…not like you…He wouldn’t like you, either. You were sure. Calling you boring just because you prioritized manners and decency. Laughing at your sewing and the dresses you cherished so much.

“Oh, I am sure they are quite pretty, Y/N. And what think you, Harry?” the king asked.

Hal perked up.

“They…they should be.” he replied.

Copying what his father said .Of course. He took another bite and then he put a hand over his mouth again.

“Now- we must set a date for these children. What dates shall you say?” the king asked.

You and Hal shared a look and then perked up.

“We want enough time to prepare a decent wedding, of course. And to prepare them. Yet…the new Lancaster family must be secured through another heir, we know…” your father replied.

You could have thrown up the wine in your stomach. You looked down, not daring to see the look on Hal’s face.

“I agree. And my son must settle- therefore, I say two months from now shall give us enough time,” the king confirmed.

Two months?! It seemed so short. Not even time to come around to it.

You always wanted romance. To be wooed and won and courted. You dreamed of the day love would finally shine in some man’s eyes as he fell to his knees and begged for your heart and hand. Not thrown away to a scoundrel who didn’t like you.

“Now- don’t you be so worried, dear daughter,” the king consoled.

You looked up, and you saw him smile kindly at you.

“I remember the days I was nervous about my nuptials, too. Do not be afraid, lady Y/N- you will leave your family, but you will have a new one. Think of me more of a father here than king. You shall have me and three brothers who will look after you and be sure you want for nothing, my dear. And therefore…”

His eyes shot to Hal.

“If this rapscallion does anything to you before the marriage- hurts you. Breaks your heart-anything. You shall come to me and ask to end the betrothal, and you will have my blessing.”

Hal’s jaw dropped.

You gave the king a smile, a genuine one.

“Thank you, your grace.”

You went back down to your food, eating with more of a flourish. Hal then turned to you. It was the first few words he spoke directly to you that night. You braced for a bawdy joke about your wedding night from him, but there was none.

“We do have confits, here, my lady- would you like to try some?” he asked.

He offered you a golden bowl full of little sweets. They were tiny white spheres. He pressed the bowl your way as you peeked in.

“I’ve never had any,” you remarked.

“They are well, after dinner.“Here- try some,” he said,

You popped one in your mouth. And let out a sound of appreciation. They were very light and sweet, you nodded your head.

“Hm- very nice. And they are…sweet, my lord,” you commented.

You took another one as the servants arrived to clear your plates.

The next day was a formal announcement. It would be put on the doors of every church. And all of the court was gathered to watch with their rich cloaks and jewels glinting in the sun.

In Hal stumbled. How pale he looked- no doubt still hungover. He looked at you and he stopped. Then he stepped forward. You felt as if it was a wedding ceremony already and it made lightning

“We hereby announce an engagement- his majesty, Henry of Lancaster and the Lady Y/N will be married in two months time. Though they are already married in our eyes- we shall congratulate them on their union and the nuptials to follow,” announced the king to applause.

He turned to you both. He gave his son strict instructions, his eyes stern.

“Now Harry- kiss her and call her your princess,” ordered the king.

Hal looked down on you. He licked his lips, looking down at yours. Dear lord- was he about to kiss you before everyone! You instintually jerked a little away. He froze. Hesitated. He lowered his mouth and then set it tight shut again. Then your intended whispered in your ear.

“The cheek?”

You paused. It didn’t sound as bad as the lips.

“Yes,” you answered.

He gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek with it seemed half of England to witness.

This is began. Four long weeks of learning everything one had to know of being a princess. Learning French to converse with ambassadors, the history of the throne, the order of the servants, current matters, in addition to etiquette (which you took to very well) and so many things your head spun. Numerous formal public events where you had to stand by Hal and pretend you were a smiling, happy bride. Swallowing back what you really thought of him.

Only talking to him when required.

You didn’t doubt tha the didn’t like you.

No doubt he wishes he was off in Esatcheap, you thought. He doesn't even tolerate me.

All of your life, you did what you were told. It kept the peace. You never asked for much- just to be safe and content. Hopefully one day, maybe one day, fall in love with some nice gentleman and marry him. A nice, peaceful, happy life. But instead- you had him?! Why couldn’t it be John instead? Or some foreign prince! One who didn’t get drunk constantly!

One day, you had time to yourself. You sat there with your embroidery, putting the pink thread in and out of the white cloth. Glad it could relieve the stress of your mind. In walked Hal, he was a member of the family now and was welcome in and out of your home. You only looked up, acknowledging him.

“How are you, my lady?” he asked.

“I have been quite busy.” you answered.

He didnt have his cap, but kept on his red leather jacket and dark pants. His auburn curls that shone like amber when he walked by a ray of sunlight. And how…well fitting his jacket was on him. There was something stirring on you when you looked at him that you didn’t like. Attraction and yet also disgust.

“What did you…do this morning, my lady?” he asked. He fiddled with his hands placed on his lap.

He was forcing himself to spend time with you- you knew it. Just trying to be nice, pretending to be nice.

“Said my prayers, Ate breakfast. Wrote a few letters. I had a walk about…” you reported.

“That sounds very nice, Y/N,” he replied.

He sat up. Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall. He gave you a smile as he looked down on you, licking his lips. You had a guess as to what his thoughts were now. But here, without a thousand eyes watching over you, you could indulge in bluntness.

“And you, no doubt, enjoyed your morning with your whores from the London streets,” you sniped, pulling the pink thread through again. “We might as well be honest with each other if our parents want us to marry, Hal. Expecting fidelity from you is like expecting a fish to sprout wings and feathers. I’m saving myself the disappointment.”

You kept your eyes down. Ready to stitch in the next one when Hal said-

“I have not lain with whores…”

You turned your face to meet his, and found his eyes hardening. His smile dropped. He stood up from leaning against the wall. You found your own mouth opening a little, though the words struggled to come out.

“What…what did you say?” you asked. You weren’t sure if you heard it right.

“I…I have not lain with a whore in…five months, Y/N. I will tell you that…”

Guilt burned inside you. You turned your eyes down.

“Oh…I’m sorry…my mistake…” you wished earnestly. “I just know how your…reputation of…you know…”

“I cannot blame you that…” he commented.

You kept sewing, with a bit more fervor. You saw Hal out of the corner of your eye get closer to you, sitting beside you.

“You are always busy, my lady. Always doing something. Don’t think I do not notice how you study everything one must know to…to… I hardly see you smile.” he said.

You looked up at him.

“I have serious matters to bear- and I for one, take this upcoming marriage seriously…” you said. “If I must adapt to life in the castle, life as a princess-your princess- I will know how…”

“It is all you do…”

“It’s my duty to…it’s what…what it means to…to marry you…” you sputtered out.

You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so anguished, so sad. You saw the imprint of hte needle on your fingertips. They felt sore- how long had you sewn?

“You think I don’t…don’t take this marriage seriously?! That I don’t take you seriously?!” Hal asked.

You tossed it down and went to the window to look outside to the green trees and grey sky. Unable to face him, wrapping arms around yourself. Feeling tears in your eye ducts.

“Hal…you know I am not the kind of person you’d choose to be your wife…you know I am not the kind of lady you fancy…just go…I don’t care if you’re betrothed to her or buy her for the night, at least you’ll be happy with some other woman. Just…just admit it…You don’t like me, I will…I’ll just make you miserable, I’ll…spare you the disappointment. I’ll speak to your father- ask him to end it… just- go and end the betrothal and leave me in peace…”

You felt a few tears in you.

“My lady…you’re…you’re crying…” he commented.

You heard him walk behind you. You finally confessed it all.

“Hal…I wanted…I just wanted to..to have a good life. A normal, peaceful life. I dreamt of…of love and of being wooed and courted and romance…and now here I am, but…but…I’m…”

You thought of it. The upcoming days. Everything. Your life upheaving. Married and made royalty in months.

“I’m just…overwhelmed…” you confessed.

You felt tears go down your eyes. You flinched. You expected him to laugh at you. To scoff at you. He didn’t.

You turned around to him. He found your handkerchief, white with strawberries sewn on it, and handed it to you. You wiped off your face.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“The reason father wanted me to marry you was that you were always so good, so rule-abiding. He believed you would tame me. But I see you…you’re so afraid of pleasing others. You forget your own pleasures in life-haven’t you ever wanted to see life? Life outside of manors and castles? See real people? Not lords and ladies- What it is like?” he asked, leaning closer to you.

You looked up. He opened his hand. You accepted it.

“You look like you have never relaxed a day in your life! And for all your assumptions about me…have you ever seen a tavern, my lady?” he asked.

“I…I…uh…no. No, I haven’t,” you confessed.

“Then…how about a change of scene?” he asked. He gave a small wink. It made you a little breathless.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

You were dressed in some peasant clothes that fit you- a simple blue dress over a white shift and a brown belt and long sleeves. Simple, but pretty. You liked pretty things and wanted to feel a little even as a peasant. Hal in his usual red leather. You both rode out on his black horse He took you out to those streets. It buzzed with flies. You could smell meat and see the butcher’s wares of dead animals hung out everywhere. A tall dog wagged its tail and sniffed the ground. It went up to you and you petted it. He felt scruffy and soft and panted with a smile. Then he went about sniffing. Hal turned to you. He looked out. It was a steady crowd of people going about. You couldn’t help but look about you.

“Here, my lady…take my hand,” he offered, outstretching his.

“How come?”

“I don’t want you to get lost,” he explained.

You accepted it. Feeling it’s warmth as he walked you through. Many turned to see him and bowed to him. It amazed you. He looked around- you never knew so many just ordinary people. All about. Lvinig their lives- how fascinating they were.

He then smiled.

“This…this is the one. The one that’s my favorite!”

It was called The Boar’s Tavern. He helped you in. Already it was crowded with people. Wooden and smelling of roasting, rich, savory meats and of ale, of wine. People chatted everywhere. Children played about with balls made of cloth. Ladies sat on the laps of men and laughed.

In was a woman with an apron, a hat over her head, and fingerless gloves. She was short and had grey hair and bright, red cheeks from her bustling about.

“Aye! It is his grace, our Hal!”

He went up to her and kissed the side of her head.

The woman turned over and peeked at you, merely folding your hands before you.

“And my-who is this lady?”

You curtsied out of habit and placed your hands before you. Suddenly shy.

“Mistreress Quickly-this is the lady Y/N. She is…she is my betrothed. Lady Y/N, this is Misteress Quickly-she owns and runs this tavern.”

You looked about. To think- she, a lady, ran this whole business! It was hers! She wasn’t a whore or a wife, she was a woman of business!

“All of this is yours?” you asked.

“Aye, it is. A right and good establishment, if I say so.” Mistress Quickly boasted.

“It’s…it’s very…it’s cozy…and it looked fun!” you said.

“Oh, we do have some fun. Hal-pour her some sack. We will give her some and a meal, on the house! Especially one about to be Lady Hal- oh, to think I’d see the day!” she remarked.

She went over to gather up a fire for your meal and drinks. Men went about to lounge and laugh with each other. And about were women. Their shoulders exposed, and dresses cut to show more of their decolletage. Would they laugh at you? No…they were focused on drying their laundry. Or their eyes would turn up to you, nodding heads in acknowledgment before returning to their business. Misteress Quickly arrived and handed you both cups of wine or “sack.” It felt cheaper than what you drank at home-but stronger, burning down your belly.

Then, finally, one approached you. Her head tilted in curiosity. She had unbrushed blonde hair and a dirty dress that revealed her shoulders. She put her hands on her hips.

“Why- you’re the lady Y/N, ain’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, yes I am. Pleased to meet you. What is your name?”

“Eh, call me Doll,” she answered.

It was obvious-A whore! A real one! Flesh and blood! But even if she was one…you still owed her good manners. She looked down and then up at you.

“Why then- good to meet you too. I can tell already you’ve never had to put a toe here- but need not fear. We’re a merry bunch. Harmless. Everyone’s all laughter and drinks and all.,” she advised.

“That…that sounds nice…” you replied.

She went up to you, gently slapping your arm to hold it. Speaking already as if you were an old friend.

“But you don’t have to be so all ‘yes my lord’ and ‘no my lord,’ here. Some old goat bothers you, you shove ‘im off. Here…have yourself a drink…”

“I…I’ve never met a…a whore before…” you commented.

“Why, now you have. Don't be scared- I don’t bite,” she said.

Mistress Quickly handed you a cup. Hal was already teasing a serving man named Francis with how many times he could run about.

“Do you…like what you do?” you asked Doll.

“When the man’s nice, like my dear old Jack here” she gestured to Falstaff. “You get enough to get by.”

“Are you scared of having a baby?” you asked.

“You learn all the herbs and tricks to stop that. Most men want you to pleasure them with your mouth, anyways- can’t have a baby there,”

You looked down at your cup, warm with embarrassment. Then you asked further, lowering your voice.

“Have you…been with Hal?”

She let out a little a small smile. She didn’t lower her voice.

“Course I have! Yes-some of the women say he visited them. He’s a regular!” she told you.

“Doll, What was he…he like? Does it…does he hurt you?” you asked agian in a quite voice.

“Hurt! Oh no! He’s sweet as can be! He won’t hurt you- unless you ask him to give you a good slap as he’s ridin’ you!”

She laughed at your embarrassed look.

“I’m…I’m his intended so…I wanted to know, to be ready…” you explained.

“Oh! Nervous for your duty and all that!? Well, I’ll tell you- he is a good man. And he’ll be good to you when it’s your turn. Now…what do you think of the sack?”

You took another sip of your cup.

“It’s…it’s so good!”

“Try it with honey-it’s even better!”

She showed you a honey jar and poured a little in your cup. And yes- it was even better.

Then in stumbled an old man. So bulbous and a face so red he reminded you of a tomato. His white hair and great white beard, boasting to a crowd.

“Three men! Oh no- I tell you- it was five men, hm yes! Five men I defeated there!” he bragged to the dirited companions surrounding him, all with amused looks.

Then his eyes lit up, seeing you.

“Falstaff…this is Y/N”

“Yes, and when I saw those six men, I-”

The man called Falstaff paused his bragging and turned to see you. He put his hands over his hips to look at you. You curtsied again.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” you said.

The old man, plumper than a peach with a long grey beard and a red face went to you. He looked you up and down. Then he talked-talked so much you didn’t have time to reply.

“Hmmm, ah, yes. This is the Y/N-the famous Y/N, lady Y/N. Yes-how much I see already. Her hands positioned to hold- the little smile, her posture-mmph, can tell already where she’s been. One of those convent girls. But if that is who will make Hal die on his wedding night, he will die smugly… I tell you, sweet wag-”

You turned your eyes down before the floor. Falstaff was talking so boldly of…le petit mort in a public space! But you should have guessed from the whores how open everything was here. Hal blushed and put his head down. You looked away. Falstaff released a large laugh at your reaction.

The old knight turned to Hal and patted his shoulder.

“I’ve conquered many a heart in my day. Oooo, old Jack Falstaff has ways with women. Hmm- the letters I’d send them. There is a Lady Ford and a Lady Page and with one letter to each, I’ll cuckold their husbands easily! So- here’s my advice, wag. Give her a sweet word, a letter -and she’ll be yours. I can show you the format- yes, yes. No woman can resist the love of the knight, Falstaff…I doubt even less this-”

He pinched Hal’s cheek.

“-Handsome, young prince here!”

He handed you the letters he planned on sending them. To your immense surprise, it was the same one only the names were switched. Before you could comment he got them again and folded them up, putting them in his pocket.

“Hmm- this calls for celebration- for Hal’s marriage and my seduction! Francis! Come over, lad! Give some sack before I die!”

He waddled over to where the cup bearer sat.

“Should we tell him? The letters are the same?” you asked.

“I would rather sit by and watch and laugh at him!” Hal replied.

Then in came a young man with dark hair and dark eyes-slender and with a triangular nose.

“Oh here! A lady is here?! A new lady-” he said.

“Why, Poins-here-I would like you to meet her. This is Lady Y/N.”

You made your curtsies again. He only gave you a cheeky smile.

“Oh, well- tis time!” he muttered.

Hal shot to him with wide, nervous eyes.

“Poins I-”

Poins then swooped you into his arms. You let out a little shreik from the feeling.

“Hal! I have your maid! And now she is mine!” he teased.

So light and fun, you did not feel any fear. He caught you and lifted you above him with his strong arms. You were surprised at his strength- he hoisted you up and began running through the tavern. People laughed as Poins ran about with Hal chasing him and even you couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Oh, Poins, you dog! Let me have her!” Hal cried.

Quickly he ran, you squealed from the feeling. Up high and dangling as Poins ran off. He went to a quick corner in one end and set you down. After seeing that he was hidden, he turned to you.

“He will never admit it-but the man adores you, Y/N!” he confided.

Your jaw dropped.

“He…he what! Since…the bethrothal?” you asked.

“Before that- for several months since he met you! Won’t even touch Doll anymore!”

Shock flooded your system. The words earlier- they made sense.

Poins put up a hand.

“ I swear he’s like some doe-eyed lover in a romance for you! He could hardly speak to you in your bethrothal- you make him nervous, Y/N! He wanted nothing more than you since when you first met! And now he sighs and pines. He blushes like a maiden! And seems half a man whenever your name is brought up! Y/N- And I must tell you something!”

He leaned closer.

“Long before the betrothal was a whisper…there was one night. It was dark and four in the morn. My sweet honey lord was quite drunk. He would sigh into his cup. I had to be fetched to drag him to a bed. Do you know what he was muttering? He cursed into his cup, lamenting “Y/N- sweet creature- Oh, Y/N! Curse the day Fate gives you to another!’ before he fell to the floor. Dear lady-show him a little mercy! Or be clever- Turn this prince into your servant when you can!”

You had no words. Your eyes are wide. Of course…this could be a lie. Just something he was making up to flatter you. To prank you. But, something inside of you was telling you it was truth…if so, why would he lie to you? What would Poins gain?

Then Hal swept in, his face bright red.

“Please, enough! Are you hungry, my lady!? I think you should to dinner- there’s going to be music you might like.” he suggested.

“Of…of course, Hal,” you replied.

He turned around, his eyebrows going up as you used his nickname. The one his friends here called him.

As you reached over, you clasped his hand. Hal went still for a moment, seeing that you eagerly put yours in his. Feeling your touch. Then he went on.

As you ate, you noticed women left with men. They held the hands of their customers and led them to their rooms. Then the moans and grunts and the rhythms of something hitting the walls not long after. Wet sounds, too- without shame of their volume. You swallowed the urge to gasp and looked down in embarrassment. Hal only gave a smirk as he ate on.

“Are they…” you turned to Hal.

“They aren’t reading, I can tell you that…” Hal laughed as he picked up some meat and chewed it in his mouth.

“They’re so…so loud…so…so shameless, I never….Wouldn’t they be embarrassed?” you asked.

Yet part of you…you would never admit it…the sounds also…you liked them. You…envied them. And with Hal so near. His leather just brushed against your arms.

“When one finds pleasure here, they don’t feel ashamed of it. They just enjoy it.”

“Isn’t it…sinful?” you asked.

“Sinful for how their bodies react when they touch each other? How God made them? If they agree to it, it cannot be, I think…”

Both of you finished your meals. The sounds of their pleasure became dimmer. You heard people get out instruments and play them. There was starting to be laughter. A gentleman with a large and red nose- Bardolph, went up and greeted Hal. As Hal went up to welcome his friend, you suddenly felt a tug on your arm.

There was a gentleman at least ten years your senior. He had sharp eyes and his strong arm pulled you closer. He gave you a wide, lascivious smile as he handed you several coins.

“Here, girl…” he said.

“Sir…what is this?” you asked, looking at the coins.

“This, this is for you, of course, my dear.”

“For me?” you repeated.

It then hit you why.

He grabbed your arms.Panic surged through your system. He tried to drag you off to the nearest dark corner, but you forced your feet still. Tugging at him, struggling to break off. You managed out of his arms, and then he grabbed your hand. But you stayed still. A glimpse at Doll Tearsheet and your heart was racing.

“Sir- there’s been a mistake! I’m a lady! I am not a whore!” you stated.

“Ah, the whore thinks she can refuse, eh?! Why else would Misteress Quickly bring a new beauty to The Boar’s Head!” he asked.

“I’m just visiting, sir! Doll is right over there! And plenty of others could use it more than me!” you cried. Glancing towards the other women.

Doll’s head perked up and she sensed something amiss. Even the whores looked among each other in seriousness once they realized what was happening.

“This money’s not for Doll, it’s for you. You would be a delight in bed tonight!”

Doll touched the arm of the prince by Bardolph, alerting him.

You were ready to fight him, ready to run, then in came Hal. He whipped out his dagger and pointed it to the man’s nose. He jumped off. Doll ran forward and pulled you away, pulling you into a protective hug.

“Leave her be- you miscreant!”

The villain held up his hands and backed off slowly.

“Why, your little grace..what else have you to do with this woman? I was about to pay for her, like any other man here. Why do you act thus?”

The music paused and eyes turned. Amused and worried, as to what would happen next. Would a fight break out? Would there be more men who thought they could be your “customers?” You cowered further into Doll, clinging to her. Oh dear God, how bad this was getting!

Your heart raced. Hal glanced at you. You looked at Hal with wide eyes. He then unsheathed his dagger and looked at the man. Then Hal made his reply.

“Because she is my whore for tonight!”

The earth stopped turning. You could hear your fast heartbeat and your jaw dropped. Hal went up to you. With great strength, he pulled you from Doll’s arms to his. In a second, before you could process it, he sat down on the nearest surface and pulled you to his lap. You made a small gasp at the feeling. He wrapped an arm possessively around you.

Then he looked thunderously at the tavern. They were silent as he made a declaration.

“I bought her company all this evening. Tonight, she is mine. And if any man here thinks they can dare touch what is mine, their head will be lobbed off under order of the Prince of Wales- is that clear!?”

He nodded his head, and the other wide-eyed men swallowed and took note.

Mistress Quickly scurried towards the musicians.

“Play! Play! Oh- give us a song! Something merry!” she insisted.

They played and the tension relaxed. People went back to their drinking and their business. But you remained sitting on Hal.

“Play along,” he whispered into your ear.

But sitting on his lap… It was making you…feel something. Something you couldn’t quite name. Your heart was beating even harder. Your body felt like it was with fever. And as for between your legs, it was stirring, something, something you had never felt before-and you wanted more of it. He was right there, beneath you. You felt his hands go around to your back.

Others were siting at Hal’s table. You both glanced to see whores with their customers- they were kissing.

He eyed you and them. Then, he touched touched your chin. He asked.

“A kiss for me, my beauty?”

Enough so that no one would suspect anything.

“I, uh-yes,” you replied.

Then he pulled you in for a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss. Feeling his soft lips, the wine on his breath and tasting rich, like you could become drunk from him-his touch alone was making you feel intoxicated already. You tugged at him, and he kept a hand at your back to secure you. You sighed from it. Groaning from it. Then he released. His pupils were wide and both of you were catching your breaths.

“Hal…”

You then gathered your skirt in your hands and looked down. What scared you was how much you liked touching him. How…how wonderful this felt. How…nice. Something between your legs was stirring. It was getting wet and you sensed it was not with urine or menstrual blood.

Hal then smiled at his companions at the table and raised a glass to them.

“Y/N…my pretty whore…to the jewel of the Boar’s Head, Y/N-and a jewel she will be in my bed tonight.”

They cheered as they raised their cups. They had a deep drink. You were handed one and drank too.

“Yes-uh, yes, my lord, I will be-uh, very happy to pleasure you tonight,” you muttered in agreement, before having a sip.

He reached his hand down yours. Then he lifted up your hand to his lips and kissed you on your pulse, keeping a steady hold on it as he lowered.

Then they began to boast of how the wine caskets were being opened and how much they could drink in one go. Laughing, they ran over to sample it.

Hal turned over to you. He had a half-smile

“My lady…your pulse is racing very fast…are you afraid of me?” he asked, though with a touch of cheekiness.

“No,” you answered. But you were afraid of how much you liked this.

“It’s only when I touch you, is it?” you asked.

“Yes…yes it is…” you confessed breathlessly.

He made a small laugh and you could have sworn he was blushing.

“It’s only your body reacting to me. It’s how God, how nature made us- nothing more… Can you continue the pretense? For a little bit?” he asked.

“Yes, Hal, I can,” you said.

He then slid you off of his lap to be on the seat next to him. Once when you thought you could cool your senses, he turned close to you, touching your leg as you were near and wrapping his other arm around you.

“Do you like the wine here, my lady?” he asked.

“I’ve…I’ve never had better, sweeter wine…I haven’t drank too much of it, have I?” you asked.

“If you’re still walking safely, then the answer is no, Y/N,” he replied.

Then the music got to a gig. People got up, getting partners.

“Are they going to dance?” you asked.

“Yes, they are!” he confirmed.

“You took his hands, smiling and getting up.”

“Dance with me Hal- do you know how to?” you asked.

“Yes, yes I do!” he answered.

You led him over as couples gathered around. They managed to kick their steps in time and though he still had trouble with his feet, he was smiling- relaxed. Far more relaxed than he was at any court ball.

At one point you had to turn around. But all you could see was him. Your bodies moved so well together- almost in sync here. You could look at him and do the steps fluidly. Feeling his touch, looking into his eyes. He held your hand…something was different. He kept a hand to your back warm and splayed. It never felt this nice.

Then…it ended. And he was still holding your hand. Catching your breaths and looking into each other's eyes. Hesitantly, he let go.

“Did you like that, my lady?” he asked.

“I…I liked it. Very much.”

You wanted him. You wanted his touch. More of him. He placed you back on his lap as he sat down right next to a table. He nestled into your neck.

“I’ll tell them I’m taking you with me to the palace and then escort you home,” he whispered.

“People are…are leaving more, now…” you commented. The crowds were thinning. The noise was calming down.

“Why…it’s getting late…a tavern has two lives. The celebration and then the dimming, the seriousness, when all is dark and gloomy.”

“It’s still…it’s peaceful… I do like it Hal…”

His lips moved to speak and then froze. He touched your cheek tenderly.

“Y/N…” he muttered.

“What is it?”

His softened to you.

“You’re…you’re a beautiful woman…and…and a good woman, too…” he confessed breathily, earnestly.

“I am your…your whore…” you said aloud, aware there were others. You nervously glanced around and then he held your chin back to face him.

“Y/N, I don’t care what you are now. I just want you to kiss me again.”

You did, feeling him. His mouth. His touch. He pressed himself towards you- to keep you close again. You heard him sigh into it. Then lips releasing- yet it felt too soon. He whispered your name. His voice. And it was not pretense.

“Sweetest of ladies…my dearest…”

Before you knew it, he laid you down on that table. Your breath was knocked out of you. You felt your back hit the wood. He crawled on top of you on the table. Your bare legs peeking from your skirt being hiked up from your position, he touched them, feeling your skin up and down. But his weight didn’t touch you and his hands feeling your thigh made you feel even dizzier. He laid another kiss on you. You couldn’t catch your breath. You couldn’t believe How…good all of this felt. And your folds were wetting already, and not with urine or menstrual blood. He kissed you again. His hips touched yours and you felt your legs go up in instinct. A truly whorelike moan escaped you. You never felt…like this before. This climb up, this ecstasy.

This…need.

He let go of his lips. Then pulled off of you. But The cold air hit you like a shot. But it was still stirring inside of you. This desire…screaming, turning inside you.

You wanted him.

“I’m sorry- I was carried away,” he muttered. “Y/N…I’ll…I’ll stop,”

“No!” you hissed.

He paused, his eyes wide. You went to him and touched his face. You swallowed deeply.

“I…I didn’t want you to stop,” you confessed.

“What?” he mumbled, tilting his head.

The words flew out of you. You gathered yourself on his lap. Feeling your legs wide, the cool air against your soaking, throbbing arousal. You wanted it complete- you wanted him. You touched his face, speaking softly.

“Hal…I don’t want you to stop…what…what is it like? When you lie with a woman? With a whore? How does it feel? I want to know Hal…I want to…I want you to…to do the act on me. Take me…you are my husband already they say…then show me what is it like to bed you. What will it be like to be your wife? Please Hal-they think I’m your whore anyway- so bed me. Tonight. Now. Show me what it is like…” you begged quietly.

His jaw dropped. He pulled you closer. Another hand wrapping around you close. His voice was husky and his eyes gentle.

"Y/N...tonight...You want me... and you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered.

You felt his breaths shudder. Then he took your hand. He downright pulled you to Mistress Quickley in a corner counting money.

"Is there a spare room?" he asked.

She pointed upstairs.

"For you? The second one you see up there," she explained with a nod.

He paid her. Then, he took your hand and led you up. Your heart was racing, going right up. He opened the door and let you in.

It was a wooden room. Cozy with plenty of space. Humble chairs. A window with brown crossed latched. And a large bed with a feathered mattress and four posters right when you opened the door. Moonlight shone through the windows. There were a few lit candles. Enough to see, but enough it was dim, private, romantic.

Hal, far too tall for the doorframe, ducked under it with a fluid ease.

“Now…at last, we can be alone…and at last…you will be mine in every way…” he husked.

He pushed the door shut as he kept looking into your eyes. Then He grabbed your face and he kissed you. Then he took his hands and put his hips to yours. It caused friction that made you gasp. It nudged a sensitive part of you and you shuddered.

"Is it locked? If...if someone walks in?" you muttered, remembering yourself.

"Will they disturb the Prince of Wales, now? I will send them away..." he whispered.

You felt his fingers going up from your sides, then to touch your waist, gripping it.

"I have someone more important with me now," he said with a smile.

He sat on the bed and pulled you to sit on his leg. You let out a small sound at the feeling. His hand went up your skirt, finding your thighs.

“Spread your legs my dear…let me help you…I will make you ready…” he whispered.

He bunched up your skirt, so you felt it gather around your hips. His hands opened your legs so that you felt his knee right against your bare folds.

The smooth leather of his pants hit against your most private area- wet and sensitive. You felt it…brush against him, the material of his pants. You let out a gasp. So sensitive- stimulated. But you wanted more.

“Do you like this feeling?” he asked.

You nodded. He guided your hips. It moved back, and then forth- making friction and a chill ran against you. You let out a small gasp.

“H-Hal! That…that feels…feels so good…”

He moved your hips to grind against his thigh.

“There….now darling…ride it like a horse-there,” he said.

He guided your hips to grind against his leg. You placed your hands over his broad, strong shoulders. It was pulling you close. The tension- it was making you gasp. Sounds coming out of you that you never thought you could make-touching him. Even with his codpiece on, you could tell something was stirring inside him too. He gave you another kiss as you rode his leg. Then his hands went over to your blouse. He touched your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked with a smug smile.

You let out a moan as an answer. He grabbed you. He kissed you more as if he was drunk and you were ale. Still clothed entirely and already a mess for each other. His voice low, he said into your ear.

"When I join with you, I'm going to make you cry out louder with pleasure than any whore here ever did. And they will know who gives this to you- your lord. And when I'm inside you, there will be more blessings between your legs than any church could give me…”

He kissed you again. His hand moved up to cup your breasts. He moved them around, feeling them. He moved, a finger playing with the string tie that held it together- your shift beneath he began to unlace the strings of your bodice. You paused, the cool air of your chest as it was lowering for him.

“I didn’t say you could stop…keep going. I’m going to undress you slowly- I want to enjoy every inch of you revealed to me…” he ordered.

You kept grinding.

Your blouse was loose, showing your shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto them that made you sigh out another little groan.

His hands greedily remove your garments. He took off your belt,. The little fingerless gloves joined it’s pile. Then finally his hands went to the collar of your dress and shift, already loose. He pulled your dress over your head. Then, in only your shift, he tugged it down until it pooled over your hips. Your bare breasts and stomach before him. You felt his eyes see you, all of you. You chilled from the cold. But he only smiled. He wrapped both arms around your waist and cupped your cheek. He looked down-seeing your breasts rising with your excited breaths. He licked his lips at Your stomach and Your hips.

“Beautiful…just beautiful…how lucky I am to enjoy you for all of my life now,” he said.

Then he kissed you at the nape between your neck amd shoulder. You sighed into it.

"H-Hal..." you voiced out.

You held onto him.

“What are you thinking, my love?” he asked.

“That…this duty feels…feels nice…That I…I’m going to be your wife and…I should…perform my duty to you…” you voiced out.

He put his hands on your hips and stopped your grinding. Then he took and you half threw you on the bed. He went over to you getting on top of you. You felt his fingers then reach one digit to your folds. You let out a small cry.

"You should know of passion, not duty, in our bed. You should know the ecstasy I can give you every night from now on. would you like that?” he asked.

"Y-Yes...my lord, yes Hal.."

You gasped feeling it. He removed his fingers, slick with your juices. He began to undo his jacket- your wetness grazing the leather and making a small stain. Then removed his black shirt. He went up to you.

He took your hand. He traced the wrist gently with his finger. Then he kissed it.

"There is my little sweetling...such a good little wife she will be…doing everything for her husband…and she will be rewarded…”

You got him, your nails digging into his warm back. He slid a finger back into you. He got it out, then back in. You clutched onto him- feeling him against the lips between your legs as he swirled around. You ground against it, finding even more pleasure.

"Oh...oh Lord....Hal…your fingers are so…so-!”

"Do you like that, my sweet lady, do you enjoy being ruined this way?"

"Yes...yes...more, Hal- I want more!"

“Sweet little bird…so eager, so willing. Willing to please- to let me corrupt her. What would those nuns think of you now, hm? What would they know of what we have here, now? I will enjoy having you- and I will have you every night. How does that sound for Duty, hm?”

He kissed and slid a tongue over yours. He slid another finger, pumping in and out. Your legs had to widen to accommodate him. You made so many noises.

You felt so hot, you felt his weight, shifting on top of you. To kiss you. To adore you. His snaking body grinding against you-he kissed you like you were food. His need. His ache. His hair fell softly through him. He cupped your cheeks and kept kissing you again.He groaned as he kissed

He let go with a smirk on his face. You felt something bubbling inside you- going up.

"I should have…should have taken you on the table...before all of them to watch-"

“Better late than never,” you breathed out, both of you melting into small laughter.

But right before it climbed too high up, he removed his fingers, slick with you. You took his body in. His beautiful, lean body. How soft yet strong he was. So many muscles in just his arm alone. His chest- how beautiful it was. How…broad he was, too. And not just his chest that felt large.

He removed his codpiece and slid off his pants easily. Your eyes went down to that cock-hard and eager and huge. Twitching. You had to swallow a moan from it-how was it going to fit in you? He then slid you down the bed-and he remained standing.

“Yes- look at me, darling. It might hurt a little, sweet wife. I will be slow,” you voiced.

But you were so eager-so desperate-you had to be with him. How warm he felt now- skin against skin. He kissed you once more time, his hips teasing what was to come. Yet he was still remaining standing.

"Here...are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes, yes I am! My lord, please! Please take me!”

You felt his cock teasing against your entrance. He began to graze his hands up and down your thigh. touching up and down them. He looked at your pussy and smiled. Then, positioning your legs already to be between his head. He began to trust in you by sinking in. Inch by agonizing inch, he slowly vanished in.

You let out a cry-a whimper. You had never been filled like this.

“ Oh my god-Hal!”

He groaned, easing him last bit of his cock inside you. The slight pain then began to melt.

“Do you want me to stop?”

The pain was gone-fizzled to pleasure. You were…getting used to him.

“No…no…please…please keep going. Please-”

He backed and then thrust.

“Oh! Oh- yes-yes, Hal-please.”

The began- thrusting slowly inside you. Still standing and you laying down. His hips rocked back. Creating such friction, such heat, like none you have felt. He was groaning hard. Each thrust was better than the last one.

All you could say was a prayer. Simply repeating “please-yes-oh, oh my god-please, Hal, please-yes, there, Hal-”

You were used to it, then he increased the pace. He hissed out your name. He held you still so you had to take all of him- not that you would complain. You felt your voice rising. All you saw was him, felt was him. He was nailing you-he was keeping you right into the end of the bed as he stood. So deep and full were his penetrations. Then his hand slid.

“Ah- yes-Here..my little rose has a rosebud inside her-” he said.

He found your nub, and then began to strum it with his thrusts. Even more pleasure whirled in you- it felt even better.

"Oh! Oh-gods! Hal! Yes! Yes-please-Yes! There!”

"Yes-cry my name, tell all of Boars-nrgh-all of Boar's Head-nrsh-who your lord is..."

Flesh slapped against flesh as he increased his pace. You weren’t sure now- you slide back and forth, whimpering with pleasure.

“You-are-mine-now-nrgh-Gods and-Fuck-yes your lord-yes-gives you-gods-yes,this-fuck-your lord always-always satisfies you-”

His pace increased. He was grunting, moaning. You now understood why the noises came from those rooms-you were making them yourself. He pounded and pounded you into the bed.

“Hal…Hal-something-something in me-it’s…it’s going up…” you whimpered.

He kept strumming you.

“You’re close-close my dear-it’s going to overwhelm you- yes- it’s-it’s me too- give into it-give into it- cry ou t- let it happen-yes-fuck-yes-yes-yes, now, my dear- come now- come now!”

Then finally, you felt it-pleasure bursting, overwhelming you. It hit you so suddenly, so hard, you let out a shout that echoed. You cried out-

“Yes-Hal-Hal!”

With a groan and a thrust, brought on by your own brink, he came. You felt him pump inside you. It was probably lucky to have the wedding in two months- if a child came from this, none but you would know.

He paused, collapsing down onto you. Only to hold you, nestling you close.

“Hal…I…I have no words…” you whispered.

“You cannot ask to break this betrothal…not after what we’ve shared…” he breathed. He then went up to see your face. “Please, Y/N…I…I…”

“I love you too, Hal,” you replied.

He smiled, kissing you. A deep breath of relief through him. He positioned himself there on the bed, holding you for only a bit.

“We…we will have to get home soon…we…we will get in trouble…” you said.

“What sweet trouble it was….but I will see you home safe…” he replied.

He redressed you and you helped redressed him. When it seemed the tavern was asleep without witnesses about the main room, he held your hand and led you back to his horse outside. Eagerly you both galloped, but you laughed as the wind tickled you. You found riding so close to him comfortable now and leaned back against him. An embrace as each landing of the steed’s hooves brought you closer. Then you were brought back home.

He was there at the entrance, knowing the servants would escort you to separate rooms, separate beds. He took your hand and then kissed it. A goodnight promise.

“Sleep well, my lady, he wished.

“Shall I see you tomorrow?” you asked.

“Every day,” he replied with a smile that matched yours.

#prince hal #prince hal x reader #prince hal fanfiction #prince hal imagine #prince hal x you #henry v imagine #tom hiddleston #hollow crown henry v #the hollow crown #hiddlesedit #william shakespeare #angst with a happy ending #prince hal smut #hiddlesverse #the hollow crown henry iv #henry iv #henry iv part 1 #tom hiddleston characters

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

Lazy Genius

Request from Anon: Spencer reid x daughter reader who hates school not because anyone bullies her but because she hates doing the work

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: You decide to skip out on a school assignment and your dad, Spencer, isn't happy about it.

A/N: Thank you for the request! Reid x daughter!reader isn't on my official list, but it's something I'm willing to write for 99% of the time. This was a challenge for me to write, as I'm a total school work loving nerd. I could not think of a happy ending for this situation so I left it open for interpretation. All requests and feedback are appreciated.

Test weeks sucked, but not because of the tests. You had no problems with tests. Test weeks sucked because for five days straight all your friends were consumed by school and you weren’t. Sure, you were in AP classes for every subject, but having inherited your father’s genius brain meant that as long as you payed attention in class there was never a need to study. So while everyone else was preparing for the academic apocalypse and your dad was out of town on a case, you were left to binge watch Doctor Who alone and wonder if someone could die of social starvation.

Ding!

Your heart leapt as your phone notified you to a message. Leaning over the table to grab your phone, you prayed it was a message from someone wanting to hang out. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Message from Dad:

Hey, Princess. We just got a break in the case so I should be home by tomorrow night. Your Aunt Penelope will be over to check on you later. I love you.

You let out a sigh. Only your father, Spencer Reid, would use proper grammar in a text message. You typed up a quick response and were about to put your phone down when it buzzed again. This time it was an email from a teacher.

Students, if you have received this reminder you have not yet turned in your mid-term paper. Please email me your work by 3:00 PM tomorrow afternoon. Any student who has not turned in their paper by then will receive a zero for the assignment.

Ugh. Not a paper.

For someone whose grandmother was a professor of literature, there was nothing you despised more than English. With most classes you didn’t have to put in any effort- it was all memorization and testing. But English class was just busy work and paper writing. It was dumb and you didn’t want to do it.

You opened your laptop and looked at the grade book. Having a genius IQ made it easy for you to do the calculations in your head; if you got a zero on the paper it would only lower your grade to 84% and if you kept making perfect scores on your quizzes and tests you’d have 92% by the end of the semester.

You closed your laptop and turned the TV back on. It might have been the 17th time you had watched this episode, but anything was better than writing a paper that wouldn’t affect your GPA in the long run.

---

A week went by. Spencer had come home from the case and you knew it had been a hard one for him. As much as your dad tried to leave his work at the office, his job made it impossible for him to not have fears and worries. You knew that the case must have involved kids, because he was being more sentimental than usual- trying to get home before 6 o’clock, trying (and failing) to make recipes from Rossi, double checking that you were still safe in your bed in the mornings before he went to work.

That morning, he hadn’t double checked that you were still in your room, alive and well, which usually meant that the post-case “helicopter parent period” was over. It seemed odd when you got a text from Spencer as soon as class was dismissed for the day.

Message from Dad: Meet me at the BAU now.

You felt all the blood drain from your face.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Your friend asked.

“It’s my dad.” Your chest tightened with anxiety. The only time your dad had you come to Quantico is if he thought you might be in some sort of danger. But if you were in true danger he would have had your Uncle Derek come pick you up at school, right? You turned to your friends. “I- I’ll call you later. I have to go.” You sprinted towards the metro station, making it through the gates just in time to cram yourself onto the crowded car that would bring you to Quantico.

---

The elevator ride to the sixth floor took less than a minute, but it felt like it lasted an eternity. Your hands were shaking by your sides and you bounced on your toes, willing the metal box to lift faster. When the metal doors finally opened, Spencer was waiting for you.

“Dad, what’s going on?” You stepped out of the elevator and rushed towards him. It all happened so fast that you failed to notice that this time was different from the others.

Every other time you had come to the BAU headquarters because of danger the place was usually swarming with agents from different units, the phones ringing so wildly you were unsure how they kept up with all the calls, and the glass doors swinging open and closed at an alarming rate.

But the hall wasn’t busy, the phones weren’t ringing, and the glass doors stayed closed.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Spencer said. His kind eyes were hard and his tone was stern. In his right hand he was holding a piece of paper. He handed it to you. “Would you like to explain this?”

You took the paper from him and looked down at it- it was your midterm report card. You had nearly 100% in every class except for AP English. Your calculations had been correct; you had an 84% in the class- a solid B.

“You’re mad that I got a B as my midterm grade?” you asked your dad.

“I’m not mad that you got a B as your midterm grade." Spencer remained calm, but you could see the silent anger boiling inside him. “Did you see what you got on your paper?”

You looked down at the grades again, this time, reading the fine print.

Midterm Paper: 0%, F. Assignment was not submitted.

“Oh.” Your voice was void of emotion.

“Why didn’t you turn in your paper?” Spencer asked.

You sighed. “If I keep getting hundreds on my tests and quizzes I’ll get a 92% in the class, which is an A so it doesn’t actually matter.”

“What actually matters is that you put in the effort, (Y/N).” Your father’s gaze grew harder, boring into you as if you were under interrogation. Spencer wasn’t like most parents who got loud when they were angry- Spencer got quiet. He got quick. He got intense. “This isn’t a result of a lack of understanding. You didn’t put in the effort. You had an assignment and you didn’t do it on purpose because you knew you could get around it.”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s called being smart.”

“No, it’s called being lazy.”

His words hit you like a bullet. His anger and disappointment you could handle, but never once had your dad made you feel insulted. You knew it came from a place of love and worry, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Your voice began to crack and tears stung your eyes as you spoke. “Dad, I-”

“I don’t want to hear it, (Y/N),” Spencer said. “Give me your phone. Garcia is blocking every number that isn’t an emergency contact until you get your act together.”

There was no point in arguing. You handed your dad your phone. He gave you a long, hard look before walking down the hall to Penelope’s office, not once turning back to look at you. When he came back, Garcia was following him. She gave you an apologetic look before she left through the glass doors, leaving you alone with your dad again.

Spencer threw his coat on and slung his satchel over his shoulder. You knew that was your cue to follow him to the elevator. The two of you stepped into the elevator together. The metal doors closed in front of you.

A beat of silence.

“I’m sorry, dad,” you said. “I’m not like you. I don’t like doing school work.”

Spencer sighed. “Sometimes we have to do things, even if we don’t like doing them.”

It was such a dad thing to say, but not a Spencer Reid dad thing to say. You tried to keep calm as you said quietly, “it’s still not going to affect my GPA.”

“It doesn’t matter, (Y/N)." Spencer blinked, long and slow. “Nobody likes a lazy genius.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x daughter reader #spencer reid daughter #criminal minds x daughter #criminal minds reid #criminal minds

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namecantbeblank · 1 year

Note

Can you give me a little TL:DR for begore the brazilians came? It's just too much to accompany and im lazy, sorry-

Anon, there is a ton to go over, but I'll just give you some big plot points okay? I'll try to organize them! People please reblog/comment with more points. Sit back. Hold your breath. This won't be in exact order, and this is slightly English POV heavy, but it's what I can think of right now.

Before Eggs:

The original Spanish and English members arrive on a train, split into two groups. They solve puzzles to escape and blow up the wall that was separating them both.

They 'meet' the Duck through videos, telling them what to and most importantly, to not blow up the wall, which Vegetta immediately does.

They meet Osito Bimbo / Cucurucho , a fully white snowman/bear like creature that claims they're from the QSMP census bureau. Seems harmless, and some fun is had with them.

La Villa de Sacapuntas is created, consisting of Wilbur, Jaiden, Phil, and Slimecicle, serving as an early civilization and interaction before Spreen, Missa and Roier took it over. Lots of lighthearted events here, great interactions between people.

Everything is lighthearted for a bit until the egg event. I honestly recommend watching day 1 vods.

Egg Event:

Live translation is introduced, as well as the eggs! Players are introduced to the concept, rules and partnerships regarding the eggs, which are as follows:

The eggs are Dragon eggs, and players must protect them until the mother returns.

Each Egg has two lives. They may be lost through dying or failing to complete egg tasks (Lethal and Happiness tasks)

The family with the happiest egg will be rewarded, and any families with eggs that die will be punished.

Each family has a partner who speaks a different language (minus single parents, Bad and Quackity)

If an egg bed is broken, the egg loses a life.

Everyone adopts their eggs, names them and gets their partners. Some parents, like Phil and Missa and Spreen and Fit, have one of their partners go on a trip, so they're basically single parents.

Families begin, some more stable than others, and egg personalities are learned.

Family Disputes, Early deaths, and Satan:

In the early days of the eggs being around, there were a few deaths, but none permanent.

Families like Charlie and Mariana, Quackity and Tilin and Max and Dan quickly show how dysfunctional they are. Either with outright arguments or lack of proper interaction with their egg. But everyone tries their best

Families like Roier and Jaiden, Philza and Missa, and Bad and Dapper are very positive and have little issues for the most part. Everyone is becoming attatched to these eggs.

A new person joins the party: Satan (The Devil) and Lil J (The Angel/Jesus). Played by Rubius, each of these characters talk with the parents and give them rewards for performing tasks. The Angel also has contact with a higher God, allowing eggs to be revived or given another life.

Egg Death 1: Misclick

After going AFK, Mariana accidentally clicks on Juanaflippas bed and destroys it, taking her last life.

Everyone is distraught, especially Charlie.

Charlie goes a bit insane. He starts a plan of revenge, trying to murder all the other eggs in an attempt to bring Juanaflippa back. He fails and is talked down.

Egg Death 1.2: The Rebirth of Juanaflippa and The Court Case

After failing to kill the other eggs, Charlie starts a court case against Mariana. He gets five lawyers. He kind of loses.

This is honestly a stream worth watching from any POV. Very funny.

The Judge allows Juanaflippa to be reborn. The dysfunctional family is back together.

Charlie and Mariana make up and have sex. Again. This happens multiple times on screen. I hate them

Egg Death 1.3: She fucking died

After Charlie exiles himself, Juanaflippa and Mariana stay in the greater island.

Mariana, while fighting a vindicator, fucking kills Juanaflippa again

Osito Bimbo visits Charlie in exile to tell him his egg is dead. Charlie doesn't believe them, and they have an argument.

Both parents are in a strong stage of grief, wanting to kill other eggs sometimes.

There is a semi-ongoing attempt to bring her back.

Egg Death 2: The Neglect of Trump

After the court case, Trump loses his second life. His parents are Maximus and DanTDM- Dan hasn't been on since the beginning, and Max forgot to take care of him.

Maximus goes a little crazy after. I don't remember the details but he started like, eating a lot

Trump has been found in the promotional posters tho?? And there's a lot sus about him. Don't quote me on that though.

Egg Death 3: Misclick PT.2 + Quackitys downfall

Before Juanaflippa died the second time, she and Charlie were taking care of Tilin. Tilin was going to go with Roier, who usually took care of them, but Charlie took her instead. During the night, Charlie accidentally hit Tilin while fighting a mob with a sword, killing him.

Juanaflippa is distraught that her friend died, Roier is yelling at Charlie, and Charlie and Mariana are officially named misclick duo.

Quackity finds out. He's out for revenge. He goes mental, planning on killing eggs and Charlie. He is eventually talked down a bit by Wilbur, forming his attachment to Tallulah, but it doesn't end there.

(Modern day) Later on, in the strip club, Vegetta and Roier perform a... show.. for Quackity specifically, where Quackity reveals he wants to kill the eggs still. He's basically just been spiraling since his kid died.

The Funeral

The third official event scheduled, the funeral was an event to remember Tilin, Trump and Juanaflippa. Slimecicle watches from exile as the other parents of the dead kids speak.

Mariana tries to blow up the chapel and everyone in it. He was stopped.

They all go to the graveyard after, where the cameras are destroyed (Max thought they were from the census bureau), and Osito Bimbo appears.

Osito leads the parents to a place, much like a limbo, where they can see their dead eggs one more time. Charlie comes back from exile for this.

Bad and Spreen fight lmao

As a result, Quackity asks Charlie to fight, and Charlie lets him win.

Wilburs return/Tallulah

I think he technically came back a bit before the funeral

But when Wilbur returns after being on Tour, him Fit and Phil go to the adoption center and check the attic.

They find an egg, Tallulah, and Wilbur adopts her.

They spend the day making the house, when Quackity comes up to him

Quackity thinks Wilbur is the father of Tilin, so they have a whole argument, and Wilbur goes to Tilins grave.

They end on decent terms, but later on Quackity insists on taking care of Tallulah, calling her his adoptive daughter, etc. Even when Phil is taking care of her. You see this become a bigger issue in recent streams

The Rise of Gegg

Charlie Slimecicle, grief-ridden and poor, makes a plan with Quackity to make a fake egg to rob people. It quickly gets out of hand.

Charlie morphs into a green, squishy egg and is found In a room in the adoption center. By using the excuse that Charlie is in exile, and with this egg acting like a regular egg, Gegg is now created.

Quackity adopts Gegg but quickly abandons him, so Gegg has to interact with others for help

Not many people really like Gegg. But Charlie is committed to the bit. He is Gegg now. Gegg is real. Gegg has taken over Charlie. Gegg. Gegg. Gegg.

Six Days.

The members get a video stating that in six days, their eggs will die. There is also a secret code in the video that hasn't canonically been solved

Panic and disbelief obviously happen, and parents take the time to take care of their kids and do extra events with them.

The night before the sixth was very emotional.

Parents wake up to their kids being gone, and the Brazilians coming in the ship.

Other points I couldn't fit in:

There are so many relationships, flirting and cheating that there's no way for me to list them all. But it does create drama. This is gay island at this point. LGBTQsmp.

The mobs are progressively getting stronger and harder, with new strange mobs appearing

The Code Monster, as we see more of now, attacked Phil before he and Fit killed them.

Roier becomes a psychologist and also has a female counterpart named Melissa.

There are some cases where people have "Nightmares," aka noncanon egg deaths. Sometimes there's a mob that is uneccessarily strong, lag happens, or other circumstances that lead them to giving the egg their life back and the event being retconned. Examples of this are Chayanne and Tallulah, Dapper, and Bobby

Luzu has a whole arc about being like, a robot? Arin? But I'm not caught up on that. Someone help

Bad is often the designated babysitter for eggs, followed by Phil

Maximus is actually a really fucking good actor and won awards for roleplaying. Fun fact

Maximus had a chess match with Osito Bimbo, which ended up in Osito giving him information.

I'm going to tell you right now, I could probably make a whole other list of running inside jokes

Quackity is canonically two people. English Quackity and Spanish Quackity

Roier got stabbed by Spreen with the help of Quackity, and is now looking for revenge

Check out clip channels/tiktoks for fun stuff. There's some blogs here too!

Hope this helped some, Anon! I know this is a big read but I hope you can at least scan and understand. If anyone has anything to add please reblog!

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chthonic-mommy · 7 months

Text

Imagine a Good Ending for Karlach

Larian hire me right now.

also my English is weak but I’m trying so please be kind I can’t REMAIN SILENT ANYMORE. it was a 3am unfiltered stream of consciousness written in language which isn’t my native.

So, the final battle. Karlach overheats. I don’t care how are they going to get rid of anything else - that’s not the topic. Then Tav (maybe with Gale’s help) uses extreme ice spell on Karlach, a few seconds before the end. This won’t let her die - but won’t let her live either. Tav just couldn’t tolerate the thought of Karlach dying. The battle ends. Everything’s over. Everyone is alive. But there is Tav - with swollen eyes, feeling like her own heart’s gonna explode instead of Karlach’s engine. And then there is The Body. Tav holds her head close to her chest, crying, but Karlach’s cold now, too cold. Gale tries to go talk with her, but both Astarion and Lae’zel ask him not to. Tav is overwhelmed and incredibly protective over The Body. She is a short and weak bard, but she will not let anyone touch Karlach, she’ll protect her like a mother lioness protects her cub.

She’ll take The Body home with her. Cold, with an ice crust on that place where soft light was coming from.

A year passed. Tav stayed in Baldurs Gate. Karlach’s dream was to help tiefling children who lost their parents. Karlach told Tav “All children should have proper housing. I didn’t have any opportunities when I was a child myself. It didn’t turn out good.”

So Tav opened a home school. She wasn’t as good with children as Karlach was, but she originated from aristocratic family, so she, as a woman of great knowledge, became a teacher for tiefling kids. They were stubborn at first and didn’t attend classes, but by time they started to listen. They began to help Tav with the garden, so they could eat stuff they grew together afterwards. Mattis remembered what Karlach told him - it’s easier to avoid battle and come out as winner out of any situation if you have a way with words. Mol was the last to stop leading her illegal lifestyle, influenced by others.

Tav taught them proper writing, counting, helped them with better clothing. She couldn’t give them everything - money won’t last forever. But she tried - tiefling kids had breakfast and dinner, they had a place to sleep, they were learning something.

Tav was numb. She stopped crying - work and children who needed her, all of that made her tougher. She was weak physically before - Karlach was always there for her to help. She remained weak, but could hardly afford that weakness now.

Three years have passed. Tav searched. Karlach’s body remained the same. There was a way to melt her heart, but she’ll die right after, Tav needed a way to melt her engine without damage, and a way to make it work. Gale told her one day “You need to move on, Tav, those children need you.” Tav answered him “She wanted to live more than any of us did. I’ll rip my own heart out, if needed. Help me or leave me alone.” She and Gale stopped talking for a year. Than he returned to her with loads of books and an apology.

Astarion didn’t like the whole idea of home school at first, but he still was coming to Tav as frequent as he could. He taught kids personal boundaries, cuz Tav didn’t want to be touched, so Astarion taught children that before a hug you need to ask first. Astarion never left Tav’s side, he supported her in her dream to bring Karlach back. He missed his barbarian friend too.

Five years have passed. Lae’zel and Shadowheart came to Tav’s place and brought their hatched gith child with them. Lae’zel also brought githyanki medicine, Shadowheart brought her prayers. Gale and Astarion came, bringing a fire artifact they’ve been searching for during the last year. Halsin and Will came, bringing their magic. Dammon was there as well. The whole group have got together again because everyone knew - if today’s stuff won’t work out, Tav will lose her life purpose. She needed their support.

It was the dark and cold night. Tav was nearly as cold as Karlach, tearless and calm. Gale started to dissolve the spell, the engine began to melt. Halsin was trying to support Karlach’s health, at least till the engine starts. And then everything went wrong. The engine started to heat like crazy, burning Karlach from inside, Dammon took his blacksmith tools and started to repair the engine right there. Tav took the fire artifact and put it into the engine. It burned through her gloves, it burned her hands heavily. Dammon took a step back.

Karlach’s body twisted in pain, she started to cough. She threw up. She coughed again, there was a black smoke, the smell of charcoal and burned flesh.

Everyone stood still, until Astarion ran for Karlach and hugged her tight.

“Damn, Fangs, I’m gonna vomit again…”

He looked nervous, his eyes twitched just like he was going to start crying, but he buried himself into that hug even more. Lae’zel came to them too, swearing, but hugged them with all her strength. Then was Halsin and his bear-like hugs. And Gale - who already started crying. Shadowheart and Will stood aside politely.

Karlach coughed uncontrollably, suffering from pain, laughed, not quite understanding what happened. For her it was just a moment - like she slept for a while. But everyone was different then she remembered. Gale had more wrinkles, Astarion never hugged her like this before, and Tav… looked like a pale imitation of herself. She stood silent, watching the hugs happening. Like she wasn’t there at all.

Everyone moved away, leaving Karlach sitting on the floor, still coughing but not that bad. Tav stayed on her place. She was afraid to believe it.

“Love…” Karlach started, and Tav whimpered, her heart skipped a beat. “…What’s with your hands? Did I burn you?”

Tav came closer, with tears dropping on the floor, breathing fast, looking like she’s gonna either have an anxiety attack or faint.

“Tav?” That’s was enough for her to burst out crying. She rushed into Karlach’s arms, crying like a baby, shivering.

Karlach’s started to kiss Tav’s face, trying to calm her down, caressed her hair. She worried so much and her engine was still unstable - it started heating again. Tav kissed her lips and felt them burning, like it was their first kiss.

“We need to stop, Tav, something’s wrong.”

“I’ll never stop! Karlach I missed you so fucking much! You were here, your body, cold and silent, I could touch you but there was no YOU in there! For five fucking years! I’ll rather burn myself than hold back now.”

Karlach looked at her in shock.

“Five years? How… How did you?..”

“I needed you to live. I did what I could.”

“That’s why your hands are burned?”

“That’s a small price.”

Karlach pulled her close, while her engine calmed down a little.

“And you waited for me for five years…unable to reach me… just like I waited to touch you… when we just met… it’s all crazy.”

“I was afraid I’d lose you. I’d die too.”

“Love…”

“Don’t tell me anything. It’s easy to get used to good things. When you lose them - you may never recover.”

Karlach kissed her again, kissed her burned lips, kissed her forehead, kissed the tears traces on her cheeks.

“We’ll talk about it later… I’m here, love, I’m here…”

That was the first night after the final battle which they spent happy, together. Tav was crying over and over, snuggling to Karlach and holding her hand tight, like she’ll disappear at any moment.

The next morning Karlach found out about kids. Most kids who she remembered were nearly young adults now. Mol and Mattis came early to help Tav with her house chores and ran to Karlach’s arms like they were her own kids.

“Karlach, we thought you dead!”

“Yeah, we thought mama Tav lied to us so we wouldn’t be sad about you!”

And Karlach hugged them close, but then pushed away to ask a question.

“Mama Tav?”

“Yeah, everyone calls her mom, it’s easier to explain and to remember.”

“She adopted EVERY child here?”

“Not really, but we’re still hers, I guess. She helped us all this years.”

They told Karlach about their jobs, about little ones who came when Karlach was already “away”. When little ones, those who stayed at Tav’s place, woke up, they rushed to see what’s happening and why this place is so crowded.

Mol said: “Listen here, little bastards, THAT’S Karlach we told you stories about! She finally came back!”

And then there were lots of “wow”, “she’s as tall as I thought!”, “the light from her chest is real, see?” and “are you mama Tav’s wife? she wouldn’t tell us”. Karlach was delighted.

She got to meet Lae’zel’s and Shadowheart’s baby gith, and couldn’t get enough of him.

She and Tav made use of every free minute to speak. Tav started to bloom like she used to - colors came back to her. They kissed again and again to the point when Astarion started to joke dirty about putting Karlach back to sleep.

When Karlach asked Dammon, how’s her engine, he told her he doesn’t know how long will it last. They didn’t know anything at all.

Lae’zel always asked Tav before, why does she read so much, isn’t she already one of the smartest women in Faerun?

Tav always answered that the main point of learning is that you never stop. Science has no answers, you learn and then you understand that you know nothing and then you learn again. And that’s an endless path, you’re never stagnated. Lae’zel was fascinated by that.

Tav answered Karlach’s question about her engine just as expected.

“If it breaks, we’ll find a way to heal you again. And again. That’s the never-ending path of knowledge…”

“Knew you’ll say that.”

“So why did you ask then?”

“Just wanted to hear it aloud. It’s strange to know… that now I’m finally free. What should I do, Tav?”

“You can start at helping me with our homeschooled gang. I’m slowly getting burnt out. Mal and Mattis are helpful, but I can’t trust them with everything and they don’t have to be here all the time.”

“Understood…” Karlach stopped thinking about her future after Dammon for the first time told her that her engine can’t be entirely fixed. She couldn’t imagine someone going this far to bring her back. But Tav did it.

Karlach was free. Finally free of Avernus, free of her past, nearly free of death (Tav made her believe in that). She was surrounded by children and her friends were all here to welcome her back. Tav was here - with her hands and lips burned and painful, but refusing to leave her no matter what. Sweet Tav, who seemed so little in comparison to Karlach. Her savior.

“Gods,” Karlach smiled bright. ”Love, it feels so good to be alive.”

#Karlach deserved her happy ending even if it’s written poorly #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #karlach x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #karlach x tav #karlach deserves better #bg3 #karlach

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dr-reversebeartrap · 2 months

Text

Allison Gordon picking up Zepp’s phone and calling back a trapped Adam

Saw 2004 canon divergence

More of a list of ideas than an actual fic even if it sort of looks like one but I can’t be bothered to make this into proper english… In the meantime bon appetit

It’s late in the morning when Allison Gordon goes back to her own house and finds Zepp’s phone in her living room. The police must have missed it. She doesn’t really think about it before she calls back the last number he’d been in communication with.

"I’m gonna kill your husband now, mrs Gordon."

She’s hoping Lawrence will reply.

It beeps five times. She keep listening, what else is there for her to do.

Somebody picks up.

Immediately she cries out "Lawrence! Can you hear me?"

Between the sound’s cracks, she hears the wails of a raspy voice. It isn’t her husband but a whole new problem.

Fight had never left her nervous system and in an instant adrenaline is back too.

"Where is Lawrence? Where’s my husband? Answer me, you monster!"

The man on the phone tells her he doesn’t know where Lawrence is, that he’s gone. That he shot him and that he left… Something happened to his foot but she can’t quite make it out with the way her phone distorts the scared voice of the young man who’s now pleading for help between wet sobs.

"Where are you? Is Adam with you?"

"That’s me!! That’s me!!" he shouts like hearing his own name and being recognized made him feel like a little bit more of a person again. "I’m chained, Mrs Gordon…"

Her anger dissolves into fear as he begs her again not to end the call.

He can’t tell her where he is, only that he’s chained in some disgusting bathroom just like Lawrence had said. It’s pitch black and there’s a dead guy with me, well a new dead guy. He cries telling her it smells bad, in reference to the stench of decaying flesh. She presses the palm of her hand into her eyes and holds her breath to avoid him hearing her starting to cry while he gets sick.

She tries to pacify him, shushing him, sometimes almost singing to him. Like he’s just having a nightmare and not living one.

She stays on call with him for hours but the phone doesn’t have much battery left.

It’s like she’s stuck in there with him. She doesn’t want to leave him alone. He told her they had light earlier but now he doesn’t anymore.

Adam doesn’t let her call the cops at first, too afraid of being abandoned again. Once she does call them, it feels like forever until they decide to show up.

They try to interrogate him but the boy is far from coherent. They can’t countain him and manage to freak him out further, up to the point they hear him put the phone down and start banging his fists against the floor out of frustration.

Allison put a stop to it by taking the phone back. Detective Kerry shrugs in acceptance. Let the poor guy have a break. It might not be the healthiest letting another victim handle this but all things considered…

Adam begs Allison not to leave again.

At times panic overtakes him, he starts shouting and sobbing into the receiver… others he gets so quiet it might be catatonia.

He asks her if he’s gonna die and Allison promises they will find him.

He calls her a liar, a liar like Larry.

Not long afterwards, he melts into apologies for getting angry at her and tells her to tell his mom that he’s sorry.

She doesn’t know what else to say to comfort him so she tells him over and over again that they will find him. She needs to hear herself say these words to him as much as she needs him to believe them. She has no way to know for certain but she needs them to be found, Adam and Lawrence both.

They stay on like this for a long time before Adam’s phone finally dies.

#saw 2004 #saw #allison gordon #adam faulkner stanheight #adam faulkner #adam stanheight #sawposting #drrbt talks #Nota bene in this AU they do find him thats my only request #also i would like to express more of how allisons fucked up by her evening and ongoing trauma and missing husband rn but thts wat u get rn #first night she had to be delirious #alison gordon

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flowerandblood · 28 days

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The Fall from the Heavens (18)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: semi-public sex, sex content, breeding kink, smut, angst, dirty talk, anxiety ]

Characters & Series Moodboard

Lady Strong Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He could not believe it, but yet, after so many years, he spoke the words of his vow in front of the woman who, when he was a child, he thought would always be by his side. Watching her in Helaena's golden gown, the colour of which so wonderfully emphasised the darkness of her hair and eyebrows, her pale, soft face, he felt his heart freeze for a moment.

They really intended to do this.

This time the way it was meant to be, of their own free will.

When it was all over, when he held her at last in his arms, he, like her, could hardly hold back the burning tears of relief that rushed to his eyes, knowing that at last nothing could separate them. They were bound before the gods, and their will could not be defied by any human being.

It was too late.

No one, no one could stop it now.

This thought filled his members with fire – he felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, his hand tightening on her hair and forcing her to look at him, her gaze dreamy, moved, her puffy lips parted in a deep breath, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

He sank into her lips like mad with a low murmur of pleasure, not caring that his act was not decent, placing greedy, hungry, passionate kisses on her lips with a loud click of their saliva. He heard her sigh sweetly as she stroked his hair and cheeks with her small hands, reciprocating his caresses with delight and devotion.

He pulled away from her at last, panting heavily along with her, feeling that their kisses had aroused him and grunted loudly, turning towards his brother, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

He did not know what made him move towards him, to embrace him and pat him on the back like a brother, like a companion, though he had never even touched him this way before. Aegon seemed surprised and muttered something under his breath, patting him on the shoulder.

"My congratulations." He said, and he expressed his gratitude for those words and for his support, knowing that they owed him everything.

They moved away from each other, embarrassed, sighing heavily with relief at the thought that everything had gone according to plan; he saw out of the corner of his eye his wife and Helaena speaking to each other closely, holding hands.

He thought with surprise that he had never noticed the silent bond that had formed between them.

Good, he thought.

"According to tradition, spouses should receive gifts, but I have nothing more precious than what I have given you today. Ensure that the Septon writes a proper marriage act. Tomorrow we have a battle ahead of us." He said lightly, patting him on the shoulder and nodded at him, heading for the entrance, his sister letting go of his niece's hand and moving behind him, throwing her a single, calm smile.

He walked towards the man in the grey robe, who looked at him fearfully, towering over him.

"Sit down and write. I know what the content of this act should be, if you try to trick me, I will cut off both your hands." He said coldly; the man nodded quickly and sat down at a simple wooden table on which a sheet of parchment lay – he reached for a quill which he dipped in inkwell and began to write, his hand trembling all over.

He stood over him like an executioner, watching every word he wrote carefully, his wife standing in the distance, looking at them uncertainly, seeing how tense he was.

He had to be sure that this time their marriage would be official.

As soon as the man finished writing he snatched the parchment out of his hand, reading its contents hastily. He hummed under his breath, satisfied, tossing the sack of coins towards the Septon, which rattled loudly in the pouch, spilling on the table.

"Payment for your favour." He muttered, rolling the paper as he walked towards the way out, nodding at his wife to follow him.

They emerged from the underground into one of the main corridors of the keep, looking around uncertainly, relieved to see no one around.

The guards must have just been exchanging.

He halted as he heard his wife stop and turned over his shoulder, intending to rush her, however, he saw that she had stepped through the open door into the throne room, startling him completely.

He moved immediately after her, shocked, wanting to ask her what she was actually doing, not wanting anyone to see them and report what had happened to his mother or grandfather, dreaming only of holy peace for at least one night.

She did, however, make her way down the steps, her silhouette surrounded by the warm light of the torch; he ran after her and grabbed her arm, turning her around with a sharp, impatient motion, his lips clenched into a thin line.

"May I know what you're doing?" He hissed and sighed, surprised, as her fingers tightened on the material of his tunic, as her lips clung to his in a sticky, hot kiss, her tongue forced its way deep into his throat making his cock swell painfully in his breeches.

He himself didn't know what he was thinking about that, involuntarily dropping the rolled parchment to the stone floor, clasping his hands on her hair and gown.

"Here. I want to do it here, uncle." She breathed out into his mouth, sending him into a daze – he groaned low, feeling himself instantly become completely hard, the tips of their tongues licking each other with a loud click.

"− fuck −" He exhaled and pushed her backwards, forcing her to retreat until her back hit the stone pillar, his mouth sinking into hers, thirsty and swollen as his fingers slid down to the material of his breeches, untying them, releasing his aching erection.

She turned her back to him, breathing heavily with him, moaning helplessly as he lifted the material of her skirt above her buttocks, as if she couldn't wait to see what he would do to her, her behaviour, the way she obviously desired him made him think only of what throbbed aggressively in his hand.

He licked his lips, directing the fat head of his cock against her slit, noticing in the firelight how her pink, swollen folds glistened from her own moisture, though he hadn't even touched her.

"− already leaking − good gods, you have no fucking shame −" He growled, forcing her to fit him inside her with one sharp, sure thrust of his hips, opening her wide on his length with her loud moan of pleasure that echoed through the throne room.

"− be fucking quiet − or do you want the guards to catch us, hm? − is that what you want? − for other men to see me take you? −" He hissed, immediately imposing an aggressive, fast pace on her, driving his nails into the soft skin of her hips, with each push hitting her buttocks with his thighs with a loud, sticky splat, all slick from her wetness, her fleshy walls squeezing him greedily.

"− I-I want to carry your heir − please −" She mumbled, and he quivered all over, drawing in the air loudly as he felt his cock pulsate hard deep inside her at her request, a hot shiver ran along his spine, making him quicken his pace, thrusting into her like mad with the loud click of her moisture.

"− I −" He grunted, unable to get anything more out of himself, just panting loudly along with her, listening to her whimpers, watching again and again as his thick manhood stretched her tight, hot walls, thinking terrified that he was too close to fulfilment, that he should slow down.

"− don't you desire this, uncle? − don't you desire to see me swell from your child? − ah − don't you desire to feel what my sweet milk would taste like on your tongue? −" She panted and he gasped heavily with his mouth wide open, clenching his eyes, feeling that her words had done something to him. He cursed loudly with relief and rage as he peaked inside her so hard that for a moment it went dark before his eyes, pleasure and heat rippling through his lower abdomen.

"− oh − oh fuck − gods − what have you done to me? −" He muttered, trying to catch his breath, pressing his welted cheek against her temple, moving lazily inside her, with the remnants of his free will directing his fingers between her thighs, giving her bud a few encouraging rubs and squeezes, making her fall apart in front of him with a girlish cry of pleasure.

"− Aemond − Aemond −" She babbled, grabbing his hair with her hand, rocking her hips while her walls squeezed him in her fulfillment, feeling his spend mingled with her moisture run down their legs. He leaned down and brushed her neck with his swollen lips, panting heavily along with her, feeling that he was completely out of breath.

What was that?

The two of them lingered in each other's embrace for a while trying to calm down, running their hands over each other's body, his lips clamping down on her neck, sucking that place out of sheer spite – he heard her hiss of discomfort, she tried to push him away but he didn't stop until he left a red mark on her neck.

She grunted in displeasure when he grasped her cheeks in his palm and forced her to arch back – their lips joined in a deep, hot, sticky kiss, her fingers involuntarily running through his hair. He gasped as he ran the tip of his nose over her temple, feeling his frustration, surely due to his powerful fulfilment, leave him, her gaze directed sideways, far ahead of them.

She looked at the Iron Throne.

"− look at it, uncle − the source of our eternal misery − the cold chair of steel −" She whispered quietly; he sighed at her words, closing his eyelids, placing a lingering kiss on her hair.

"− let's move to my chamber −"

"− I should begin to bleed soon −" She mumbled in a trembling voice, and he opened his eyes, feeling a squeeze in his throat, surprised by her words.

He was unfamiliar with these mysterious feminine matters, for they had never occupied his head and he had not delved into them.

For her, however, he thought, as a woman, her fertility, even more so in the situation in which fate had placed them, was of the utmost importance.

"− I fear that I will be like the dragon egg that has not cracked − that along with the blood between my thighs will flow the blood of us all −" She said in a breaking, shaking voice, and he stared at her with his eyes wide open, feeling the strong pounding of his heart, the cold sweat on his neck.

He had no clue what he should answer, he couldn't find the right words to express how much she surprised him.

I fear that I will be like the dragon egg that has not cracked.

She was afraid that if she failed him in terms of giving him an heir, he would consider her worthless.

"For years I resented my father for choosing this particular egg and not any other − one from which a dragon might have hatched. However, the gods chose a different path for me. They decided that I would become the rider of the greatest dragon in the world." He whispered, looking at her with his lips slightly parted, taking the curls of her long, dark hair with a soft flick of his hand, revealing her long neck, the scent of vanilla pleasantly teasing his nostrils.

He leaned in, placing soft, butterfly kisses around the red bruise that his lips had left moments earlier, his fingers entwined with hers on her womb.

"− I'm scared − gods, I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared −" She muttered in a squeaky, breaking voice from which he felt his heart sting; his eyebrows arched in pain, his arms tightened around her waist, pressing her securely against his chest, his soft manhood still deep inside her.

"− I know − but you need to calm down − come to terms as I do with whatever the will of the heavens decides −" He whispered low, feeling it was the right answer.

There was nothing more they could do.

He thought that, after all, neither his mother nor his sister carried their children in their wombs after the first weeks of their marriage, that it took months and, in the cases of other women, even years.

How could he expect her to somehow perform a miracle, to carry his child because the situation demanded it?

"− we need to rest, wife −" He hummed, leaning over her shoulder, wanting to see the expression on her face. He heard her sniff with her nose and wipe her red cheeks, swallowing loudly, still distressed.

"− forgive me − it's the day of our happiness, and I destroyed it −" She whined, and he let the air out loudly through his nose, shaking his head as he stroked her shoulder with the soft movement of his hand.

"− no − it's a good thing you told me about your worries − I'm your husband −" He said calmly and heard her breathe quietly, as if his words brought her relief. He slid out of her gently with a quiet click of their shared moisture, lowering her gown; she turned, leaning her back against the pillar, watching as he quickly tied his breeches.

They looked at each other for a moment in silence; something in her eyes filled with tears of happiness, sadness and joy made his heart squeeze.

She was vulnerable.

And although only a few weeks ago he had dreamed of her like this, at his mercy, so that he could destroy her and do whatever he wanted with her, now that she was his wife, now that she was a part of himself he wished that, like him, she would at last experience a little solace.

He took her warm, rosy cheeks in his hands, towering over her without a word – she closed her eyes as his thumbs ran over the wonderfully soft skin of her face.

His lips pressed against hers in a warm, lingering, sweet kiss with which he tried to express what could not leave his throat.

She sighed softly into his mouth, throwing her hands around his neck, his arms pressed tightly around her in a secure, safe embrace.

They kissed slowly, deeply, rubbing and teasing their swollen, moist lips, their tongues touching and licking lazily making his cock swell again immediately, pushing impatiently against her belly.

Gods, have mercy, he thought in disbelief.

She gasped into his mouth, delighted that he couldn't hide from her how the closeness of her body, her scent and her caresses affected him, her hand slipped from his neck to the material of his breeches, he groaned helplessly as she began to run her fingers down the increasingly hard, throbbing bulge.

"− not here −"

He made love to her that same night once more in his chamber, taking her at last as her husband in every sense of the word, their rapprochement this time quiet and tender, full of their wet, hot kisses and the embrace of their arms, their hands trailing over their naked, sweaty bodies as they pursued their fulfilment again with quiet moans of pleasure.

"− I need you, uncle − please, please, my beloved, don't leave −" She cried out beneath him heated with pleasure, throwing her head back, an almost animalistic, throaty groan broke from his throat as she called him so wonderfully, involuntarily pounding into her more violently so that after a few definite, deep thrusts of his hips his seed filled her again.

"− never −" He gasped, panting heavily, brushing soft skin of her rosy cheek with his swollen, moist lips. "− never −"

They kissed for a long time after that, lying in each other's embrace with their eyes closed, stroking each other's naked backs and shoulders, this one night focusing only on pleasure, only on their closeness, only on what they had lost and what they had finally regained.

The rolled-up parchment, the proof of their marriage that changed everything, lay beside them on the bedclothes; they both read it when his wife was already lying cuddled into his bare chest, unable to believe that it was finally over.

After eight years of torment, she was finally his rightful wife.

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mindutme · 3 months

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T’owal T’uesday #5

Last week’s post was part one of T’owal translations of bits of the Epic of Gilgamesh from this post. My translations are of course from English translations, not from the original text! Today I’m showing a translation of the second fragment, which was translated by Herbert Mason. Here’s Mason’s translation, followed by my own:

Who are you? You are no one that I know. I am Gilgamesh, who killed Humbaba And the Bull of Heaven with my friend.

If you are Gilgamesh and did those things, why Are you so emaciated and your face half-crazed?

I have grieved! Is it so impossible To believe? he pleaded. My friend who went through everything with me Is dead!

No one grieves that much, she said. Your friend is gone. Forget him. No one remembers him. He is dead.

Enkidu. Enkidu. Gilgamesh called out: Help me. They do not know you As I know you.

“Yád hné? Hox hú hné sín ol tso su.” “Gílgamesh hú sú, hú sú sín k’ep ma we o iya su Humbaba a Besye Yen.”

“Os hú li hné Gílgamesh a tlé li fén xu, be úkye des hné, be p’úbxod don hwá hne?”

“Fyút sú fén udsen k’et! Pxu hox ól hné byóx ot?” sém mó ót. “K’ét we íya su athdas we o su fen ex!”

“Sín hox údsen e geson xu,” lál bós ót. “Dné we íya hne. Kxókyo oth mó. Sín hox fdál mó. K’ét we mó.”

“Énkidu, Énkidu!” k’ú Gílgames ót a í, “Nún oth sú. Ól hox il su mó hné.”

Below are a few notes on some aspects of the translation that might be interesting.

T’owal words are all one or two syllables long, and it so happens that the three proper nouns in this text are all three, setting them apart. In addition, T’owal doesn’t have the sound /ʃ/ (sh), so when it borrows a word with it I usually spell it as sy. This can be ambiguous within a word, as the sequence /sj/ does occur in T’owal, but as it occurs at the end of a word in this case it’s clear. A one-to-one transliteration of the T’owal would be Gílgamesy, but I went with sh to make it clearer.

I’m not certain how the name Enkidu would have originally been pronounced (and I’m not sure how well established that is by linguists anyway), but following T’owal’s strict pronunciation rules it ends up as [ˈɛŋ.kɪ.dʊ] or [ˈejŋ.kɪ.dʊ], depending on the case—all T’owal words have initial stress. However, since it’s a borrowed name it could be written as Enkídú/Énkídú to get [i] and [u] sounds instead, if not a later stress.

The opening question, yád hné?, is a fairly rude phrasing—though it can mean “who are you,” it can also mean “what are you.” A more polite version would be Sín yad hú hné?, literally “What person are you?”

The phrase k’ét we shows up twice in this text to mean “is dead.” However, it’s more literally “has died,” as T’owal generally just uses past tense forms in situations where English would use a participle. The same word k’et “to die” actually shows up twice earlier. First is k’ep ma we (with assimilation of the final stop). This is the causative form, so it means “killed” (as before, we marks the past tense). Second is in the phrase Fyút sú fén udsen k’et!, which is how I chose to translate “I have grieved!” More literally, it’s “I feel/have felt a death-sadness,” so in this instance k’et is being used as the noun “death.” There are actually several ways that “death” could be translated into T’owal, but that’s a subject for another post.

#conlang #neography #T’owal

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bqstqnbruin · 8 months

Text

Drunk Texts

Me? With another fic? This fast? Ground breaking.

Anyway, this has been sitting in my google drive for way too long and I finally finished it. It's inspired by Drunk Texts by New Rules.

Thank you to my besties @kat-hearts @raysofcrosby @matthewtkachuk and @assmanselke for reading this, but they have no idea what the ending is so hahahaha

If there are typos, I'm so sorry, Grammarly is being weird

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, swearing, the ending

WC: 5k ish

Flashbacks are in italics

_______________________________________

The sun was up, there was a bird outside his window happily chirping, the city below his apartment was alive and bustling on the beautiful late summer day.

Anthony felt like he wanted to die.

He couldn’t remember having a worse hangover, trying to wrack the usable part of his brain to figure out if he had anything besides alcohol the night before. He was pretty sure he had at least one glass of water, thinking he had maybe a bite of food but that proved to be way too little to counteract what was probably a bottle or two of wine and whatever else his teammates had given to him to drink last night.

He sat up from bed, his head pounding as he rubbed his eyes and searched for his phone, haphazardly on his nightstand under what he could only hope was his own underwear and not someone else's. If some other guys boxers were there, Anthony knew he had more than one problem to deal with.

It was the same thing every single time he went drinking after a bad night, his room and probably the rest of his apartment left in a disaster, but the worst part were the drunk texts he knew were sent by him the night before. Drunk texts sent by anyone were horrible, incoherent and easy to blame on being inebriated, but his were always exceptionally bad.

Anthony got out of bed, his head pounding with every movement he made. He knew he had to check his phone at some point. Delaying it any longer would just lead to more issues with his life later on.

The one person he hoped he hadn’t texted was right at the top of his messages, a message that somehow combined French, English, and absolute gibberish into one text, undoubtedly from him, showing up in the preview.

He tapped the messages with Scarlett, the last girl he dated, and still couldn’t get out of his head. She was, unfortunately, used to his drunk or stupid texts, Anthony unable to form a proper thought when it came to her.

‘I like you’ was the only text he could decipher at first glance, an “oh fuck,” escaping his lips while he tried to piece together why his teammates would let him not only drink so much, but keep his phone on him the entire time.

“Who is that over there?” Anthony asked, staring at the girl with long, dark hair, talking to one of his new teammates.

“Uh, that’s Quinn,” Brock said, “your teammate.”

“No, the girl he’s somehow talking to,” Anthony replied.

“Not sure, I normally see Quinn with her when we come here, though. She always shows up when Quinn texts her,” Brock shrugged, “I think her name is Sarah? Sage?”

So she probably likes Quinn then, if she’s showing up when he asks. He shakes his head, “You only know that her name maybe starts with an S, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

Anthony sighed, trying to take in the girl Quinn was talking to. He swore he had seen her before, something about her trying to work its way through his memory.

“Go talk to her.”

“What?” he asked, looking at his teammate.

“I promise you that Quinn does not have enough in him to pull a girl like that.”

“Isn’t he one of your best friends?”

“Yes, that’s why I can say it. Now, go.” Brock practically had to shove Anthony away from the table.

Anthony stood there frozen, staring at Quinn and this girl while his mind went a mile a minute as to how he was going to talk to her. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he thought to himself, ‘she’s just a girl, talking to Quinn. If Quinn can talk to her, so can I.’

He felt his entire body shaking under the weight of himself as he tried to make his way over to the girl and Quinn. He could just tell Quinn he wanted to buy him a drink, celebrate the win they had the other night, something, anything.

“Hey, Tito,” Quinn called out, pulling Anthony from his thoughts. Quinn and the girl were staring at him, the heat rushing to his face as she smiled at him. “This is Scarlett.”

Anthony knew he had to speak. She was staring at him. She was smiling at him. She was clearly waiting for him to say something to her, but all functions that his body possessed suddenly stopped, including the one where he was able to get out something as simple as, “hi.”

“Um,” Scarlett started, Quinn standing to the side laughing at his teammate, “Quinn tells me you just moved here from New York?”

“L-long Island, um, yeah,” he managed to get out, starting to think of all the ways he wanted to disappear into the Canadian wilderness out of embarrassment.

“What’s it like there? What’s there to do?” she asked him, Quinn slowly inching away from them.

“Uh, leave.” As soon as the words left his lips, he shut his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, he would discover that the stupid things he said didn’t happen and were just a dream. He opened his eyes to see Scarlett biting her lip, trying not to laugh at him.

She took a sip of her drink, not breaking eye contact and making Anthony’s heart skip in the process. “You’re either way too drunk to be talking to someone right now, or I, for some reason, make you really nervous.”

Anthony lets out a sigh, a smile on his face. “What if I told you it was both?”

There was something about the laugh that escaped her lips after he told her that that made him forget everything. He swore he blacked out while talking to her, but not from the alcohol. He had never felt more sober than that first time he met her. He remembered nothing about that night except the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, a crooked smile spreading across her face when she was flirting with him, the way he knew heat was rushing to her face, probably from the second hand embarrassment of him attempting to flirt back.

“So, you and that girl looked pretty cozy last night,” Brock teased him the next morning after practice. None of them had been particularly happy that they were called for last minute drills, all of them sweating the alcohol from the night before more than anything else.

“Are you in love?” Quinn teased, his voice dripping with that pre-teen gooeyness that got under Anthony’s skin.

“I just met her,” he started.

“Love at first sight exists, my friend,” Elias joins in, hitting Anthony hard enough on his back that he nearly fell out of his stall.

“Dear god, I need to go back to New York,” Anthony groans, drowned out by the sounds of his teammates laughing.

“There’s no way Long Island is better than here,” they kept going.

“We called it the ‘God forsaken island,’ growing up,” Quinn added, the guys laughing even harder as they continued to rib Anthony.

“I liked you all better when you didn’t know me.”

“You know we like you better when we make fun of you,” Elias tried to reassure him. “Have you at least talked to her since last night?”

“How would I do that?”

“You got her number?” Quinn questioned.

Anthony tried to think back to the night before, failing to remember anything past his initial meeting with Scarlett and the absolute fear that he felt trying to talk to her in those first few minutes. “When did that happen?”

“Right after the eighth green tea shot.”

“You let me have eight?”

“Scarlett kept buying. I wasn’t going to argue with her,” Quinn said, holding his hands up in defense. “We tried to get you to stop, but after the third one, you threatened to pour them all over Brock.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to let you get my white shirt dirty.”

“God forbid you get your five dollar Walmart shirt a little dirty with some alcohol.”

“Hey, no-”

“Guys!” Anthony finally cut in, his teammates all turning to look at him. “I don’t have her number.”

“Have you looked at your phone since last night?”

“Only to turn off my alarm when it was still on ‘do not disturb.’”

“Scarlett a hundred percent has texted you already if you haven’t texted her. She’s not one to wait for days for a guy to reach out to her,” Quinn told him.

“I don’t think I like that you know so much about her,” Anthony mumbled.

“I met her the first weekend I was here my rookie year and she somehow has appeared in my life every weekend since. Check your phone.”

The guys start to file out and head home, Anthony and Quinn sitting there by themselves. Anthony didn’t even know what he would say to her. How does he start a conversation with a girl he barely knows, who he was too nervous to talk to the night before?

“You make her sound like a stalker,” Anthony sighed, trying to search for his phone.

“I’ve known her for years and she hasn’t stalked anyone.”

“That you know of.”

“You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

“And that is the closest to being Gretzky that you’ll ever be.”

“Just check your phone. You were babbling like a dumbass the second you met her. I haven’t known you for as long as I’ve known her, but I definitely know you well enough that you don’t act like that around girls. Ever.”

Quinn finally got up to head home, leaving Anthony alone in their locker room to do as he pleased.

Anthony sat back in his stall, letting his head hit the back and getting engulfed in his clothing hanging behind him. What would he even text her? Is it too soon to text her? How could he send anything that would be good enough for her to want to respond?

He finally pulled out his phone to start going through his notifications. News from around the league, random DMs from people on Instagram, a text from his mom that he would forget to respond to until after she was asleep for the night, and a message from someone with just an emoji as their contact. It was the blushing emoji, Anthony remembering Scarlett telling him that her friends called her ‘Scar,’ and that was the first emoji that popped up when someone tried to search for her name.

‘So how often do you get a girl's number and not text them back after that night?’

Anthony couldn’t figure out if the banging was just the throbbing headache he had or someone actually at his door.

“What the fuck could you possibly be doing here this early?” he groaned at his teammates standing at this door.

“It’s 2 pm,” Quinn says, pushing his way into Anthony’s apartment without an invite, coffees and bags of food in hand.

“It was either us doing the wellness check or the police,” Brock adds, flopping down on the couch and sending Anthony’s phone on to the floor.

“I don’t trust them to drive safely anywhere after they’ve spent the night drinking, so I had to come, unfortunately,” Elias tells Anthony, picking up his phone off the ground and handing it to him. “Has that girl texted you back yet?”

Anthony’s head whipped up in shock. He really had no memory of last night. “Girl?”

“Yeah, you know, those who identify with she and her pronouns?” Quinn says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Can you be a girl and not use those pronouns?” Brock asks while chomping on a bagel.

“Very important questions for a later time, please,” Anthony interrupts, trying to look through his contacts to see if there was any name he didn’t recognize. “What girl?”

“You don’t remember?”

Anthony sat on the couch next to Brock, throwing his head back and letting out a guttural sigh. “Why would I remember anything from last night? That would make my life so much easier, and obviously, we can’t have that.” There was no way he could meet a girl and not remember her, right? There was no way he could possibly have drank that much alcohol to the point where he blacked out if he was with his teammates.

“Not your usual type, but still pretty.”

“She was hitting on Quinn first.”

“She was not.”

“She only stopped because you’re too dense to realize when someone is hitting on you.”

“You could have had a relationship for the last five years if you picked up on that girl in the coffee shop.”

“That’s-” “Hello?” Anthony interrupts his teammates. “We were talking about me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Brock says. “You really don’t remember the girl who bought you like four of the drinks you had?”

‘ ‘What are you doing today?’ came up on Anthony’s phone from an unknown number.

Scarlett had called him immediately after he sent his text to make sure he was ok. “Ti,” came through his speaker, the nickname she called him that made his heart race for no reason. “It’s two in the morning, what do you mean what am I doing today?”

“I want to see you today,” Anthony slurred, drunk from his night with his teammates after winning the first round of the playoffs.

“Only if you promise to get some water right now,” she giggled. “You know you forget to hydrate when you’re celebrating.”

“Come out with us. I want to see you.”

“I am in bed already,” she said, hearing Anthony let out a drunken groan. “I’m going to be helping Brooke at her street fair stand in the afternoon, I can meet you after that for you to take me on a date then.”

“I want to take you out now,” he whined.

“Dinner tomorrow at your favorite restaurant. You’ll pay.”

“I’ll pay.”

Scarlett hung up before Anthony could say anything else.

The next morning, he woke up on Quinn’s couch, Elias sitting on the chair, Brock on the floor for who knows what reason. He didn’t even remember getting back to Quinn’s apartment, let alone how he ended up on the couch.

“Why are we here?” Anthony asked, no one in particular.

“I was the most sober of the four of us,” he heard Quinn yell from the kitchen.

Following his teammates' voice, he attempted to get up, a pounding headache nearly knocking him off his feet. “How did that happen?”

“I’m not sure, but I fucking hated it,” Quinn mumbled. “Even Elias threw up four times last night.”

“It might be five times soon,” Elias said, stumbling into the kitchen behind Anthony.

“Good morning sunshines,” Brock yelled, groans coming from all three guys in the kitchen. “What’s everyone doing today after we get breakfast together?”

“Plotting your murder,” Elias muttered massaging his head with his fingers as if he were trying to will the hangover away through that method.

“At least wait till our season is done for that.”

“I think I’m seeing Scarlett,” Anthony said, trying to remember if his conversion with her the night before was real or not.

Quinn hands out cups of coffee, a confused look on his face. “Like, you’re seeing her right now? In the room with us?”

“What’s it like having two brain cells that constantly have to fight for third place?” Anthony groaned, “No, you dumbass, I mean tonight. I’m seeing her tonight.”

“You’re finally going to see her somewhere that isn’t a bar and in a state that isn’t halfway fucked?”

“I actually think I’m going to join Elias in murdering you,” Anthony countered.

“You can’t hang out with Scarlett if you’re in jail for murdering me.”

“What are you going to do with her today?” Elias asked, changing the subject.

“I have no idea. I might be paying for whatever it is we do, though.”

Anthony spent the rest of the morning getting annoyed at his teammates as they teased him, calling him a simp for Scarlett when he had only interacted with her in person while they were both drunk. They hadn’t even been on a real date yet. Scarlett telling him to take her out that night was going to be their first.

“Look, I need to impress her,” he cuts them off after they get back to Quinn’s place. “So either you are all going to help me figure out how I do that, or I’m going to put in for a trade request in the off season.”

The four of them managed to put together a plan that didn’t make Tito want to kill them. The first step was to go to Prototype, her favorite coffee shop in the city, and getting drinks for her and Brooke and surprising them at Brooke’s street fair. He had their orders saved in his phone for god only knows what reason, but he knew they would come in handy at some point.

“We should come, too,” Quinn said, grabbing his stuff to follow Anthony out the door.

“You should not,” Anthony protested.

“We want to see what you’re like out of your natural habitat,” Brock teased.

“What the ever living fuck does that mean?”

“I think it means they want to see you try to flirt with her when you’re sober,” Elias translated.

“No. Nope. You three are not coming.”

“You don’t have a car to get yourself anywhere and you still don’t know how to navigate the public transit system here.”

“Fuck.”

Anthony reluctantly let his teammates take him where he needed to go, hoping that he could lose them at the massive street fair that Brooke and Scarlett were working. Thankfully, his teammates had the attention span of squirrels, soon veering off from him and leaving him to wander with a tray of three drinks, hoping to impress the girl he desperately wanted to see sooner than that night.

“Ti?” he heard from behind him. “Anthony, what are you doing here?”

He turned to see Scarlett walking up to him from across a sea of people, her smile alone making him lose all brain function. He should have known she would have the same effect on him sober as she did when he was drunk. “I, um,” he started, trying to remember what his reasoning for being there even was to begin with. Why did he have to see her so early when all she did was make him freak out in the best way possible? “I brought you coffee.”

He practically spilled it down the front of her by shoving it into her chest. “Um, thank you?”

“And for Brooke, too.”

“Oh! You haven’t even met her yet?”

“You told me that you two have the same favorite coffee order from Prototype, so I just got two of them,” he told her, feeling his cheeks turn bright pink.

She gave him a soft smile, clearly impressed that he would remember not only her order, just her best friends, no matter how simple they were. “I knew you were a good one.”

“Do you want us to text her?” Brock asks, craning his neck to try to read over Anthony’’s shoulder at his phone.

“We can tell her you’re a good one,” Elias offers, the first hint of sincerity coming through his voice that none of his other teammates had shown to him all night.

“Or that you’re bad,” Quinn draws out.

“I’m not a thirteen year old boy trying to text his middle school crush, Jesus Christ.”

“Tell her you’re like him,” Quinn adds.

“You’re Jewish, I thought you don’t believe in him,” Elias asks.

“Well, yeah, but he was still a historical figure. We just don’t believe the religious aspect that-”

“Hey!” Anthony interrupts, again. “Am I just here as comic relief?”

“You have to be funny to be considered that.”

“Ok, I’m leaving,” Anthony gets up from the couch, only to be pulled back down by Brock.

“We’re teasing you. You know this. And we’re in your apartment, where are you going to go?”

“What do I do?” Anthony groans, throwing his head back with his hands over his eyes.

“Text her back or ignore her.”

“No, I mean,” he groans again, “I texted Scarlett last night.” Much to his surprise, he’s met with silence from his friends for the first time that morning. “That’s what shuts you up?”

The three of them exchange worried glances, making Anthony’s heart race and head throb even more than the hangover already had. He knew drinking anything was going to make him do something stupid. He just didn’t think his teammates would also agree.

He handed them his phone, letting them see the string of stupidity from the night before.

“There’s no way you texted her all of this,” Brock said.

“You can literally see the texts on his screen,” Elias groans.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Scarlett told him between kissing him, one hand on the back of his neck pulling him towards her, the other on his guiding it towards her waist.

Anthony didn’t know what to say as he felt every inch of her, pulling her back towards his bed. He sat down, his lips still connected to hers. Scarlett straddled his waist, her fingers gracing the hem of his shirt.

‘God, this has to be perfect,’ raced through Anthony’s mind, every other thought that wasn’t about Scarlett unable to break through his brain. His heart started racing as the two of them took off his shirt, fiddling with hers next to slip it off over her head, Anthony wanting nothing more than for his lips to be back on hers as fast as possible.

He moved her off his lap, gently pushing her onto her back. He took a moment, both of them catching their breath while Anthony’s heart continued to race. “Wow,” he let out, Scarlett giggling at him. “You are just.” He couldn’t find the words to describe who she was, his mind still blank from anything other than her name.

“Do you want to…” she asked, drifting off, her eyes traveling down his body.

“Oh, god, yes.” Anthony said, crashing his lips to hers, feeling her smile against his.

‘This has to be perfect,’ kept running through Anthony’s head as they stripped more of what they were wearing, piece by piece. ‘She’s perfect so this has to be perfect.’

She was ready. He could feel she was ready. But Anthony?

“Hey, hey, wait,” she stopped him. “Are you ok?”

He hung his head down, her hands pushing his hair back off his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“We can stop, if you want to,” her voice came out small, clearly upset.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, rolling off her, unable to look at her. The two of them lied there in silence, a long pause that made Anthony more anxious by the second.

“Are we ok?” Scarlett asked, finally breaking the silence.

Anthony stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say. “Yes?”

He heard her sigh, getting up to put her clothes back on. “Let me know when you’re sure,” she said to him, leaving his room.

As soon as he heard his front door shut, he covered his face with his hands, letting out a deep groan. He wanted it to be perfect. He had been trying so hard to make everything for her as perfect as he was able to make it. Why the fuck did he have to get into his head like that.

Anthony reached for his phone, pulling up the group chat with his teammates. ‘Who can come here ASAP?’ he sent, putting his phone back on his nightstand without even waiting for an answer, rolling over immediately and pulling his sheets over his face.

Anthony didn’t know how long he had been asleep, hearing his front door open while he was still in his bed, his clothing strewn across his floor.

“Tito, where are you?” he heard Elias’s voice carry through his place.

“Fuck,” he muttered, throwing himself out of bed to try to find something resembling pants before they could make it to his bedroom.

“Tit-oh.” Quinn said, bursting through his bedroom door before he could fully get his sweatpants on. “Guys I found him.” “Jesus, Quinn,” Anthony said, nearly falling over. “You couldn’t wait?”

“Had to make sure you weren’t dead,” Brock said, spraying a mouth full of crumbs of who knows what everywhere, Elias following him with an annoyed expression. “We thought you were with Scarlett tonight.”

“He clearly was,” Elias said, gesturing to the mess that was his bedroom at the moment.

“So what, you finished, she left, and your first thought was to call us?” Quinn asked, plopping down on Anthony’s bed, Brock following suit.

Elias and Anthony took the floor, his three teammates trying to read the expression on his face. “No, I didn’t finish.”

“With Scarlett?”

“I didn’t even,” Anthony started, putting his face back in his hands. “I didn’t even start.”

“Oh,” was all he heard from Elias, Brock and Quinn both silent for once. “We thought you really liked her?”

“God, yes, I do,” Anthony said. “This was supposed to be the first time we slept together and I fucked it up.”

“That happens,” Elias shrugged.

“It’s not even just that. She asked if we were ok and I couldn’t answer her.”

“Why would you do that?” Quinn asked.

“I panicked. I’ve been panicking. Since the first time I saw her, I have been freaking out because she deserves more than what I can give her, and it fucks me up,” he let out, surprised he was even able to put anything into words. “I mean, Brock, you had to physically push me to her because I was frozen. Quinn stood there when I couldn’t even talk to her. We were all here the night I freaked out because I didn’t know how to text her, or what to do for our first date. I have been out of my mind about her since the second I saw her, and because of that I have fucked up so badly, I don’t know if she wants to see me ever again.”

“Ok, you told her last night you wanted to see her,” Brock reads out.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“That night she left my apartment when we tried to…” Anthony trails off, not really wanting to recount the night again.

“What about the last time that you talked to her?” Quinn asks, handing Anthony his phone back.

“She had called me one night after a game a few days later to say that she was sorry she left that night the way she did but she was upset that I didn’t have an answer for her.”

“And?”

“And we talked it out, I thought we were fine, she said we would talk later, and neither of us reached out again.”

“So you both ghosted each other until you sent her a bunch of drunk texts last night,” Quinn says.

Anthony groans, throwing his head back again. “Fuck, yes, Quinn. What do I do?”

“Well she hasn’t answered yet, so she either hasn’t seen it or also doesn’t know what to do.”

“At least start with telling her you were drunk and that you’re sorry you sent all of those texts,” Elias suggests.

“Or we go over to her place and you ask her yourself.” The three of them look at Brock, Quinn, and Elias liking the idea, Anthony absolutely mortified. “I mean, you haven’t seen her in a while, you haven’t talked to her in a while, and drunk you clearly wanted to change that last night.”

“What about sober you, right now?” Quinn asks.

“Hungover me,” Anthony corrects, “Wants to go to bed until sober me reappears.”

“Well that won’t be until tomorrow,” Brock points out, “So what would sober you want to do?”

Anthony smiles, his teammates knowing what he wants to do, what he’s wanted to do since that first night at the bar.

“I’ve got the keys,” Elias says, the four of them rushing out the door.

Anthony felt his heart racing as Elias drove through the city, surprised he even knew where Scarlett’s building was. By the time he pulled up, his palms were soaked, his throat was dry, his legs anxiously unable to stop shaking. The guys had to practically throw him out the door, Anthony having no idea what the hell he was going to say.

He managed to get up to her apartment, thankful that he was well known enough that the doorperson let him in, worried that the security was loose enough that they just let him in at the same time. He knocked on her door, finally starting to calm down as he waited for her.

Anthony didn’t hear any movement in her apartment, knocking again after waiting for what felt like forever. He felt his phone buzz, a text in the group chat asking how it was going from Quinn, immediately followed up by Elias scolding him.

He knocked a third time, hoping that she would answer.

She wasn’t there. That, or she was ignoring whoever was at the door, given that he was showing up unannounced.

He turns back around, heading back down to Elias’s car, letting them know he was waiting for the elevator.

The door opened, Anthony moving to the side to let the person already there off while reading the texts that were flooding in from his teammates.

“Anthony?” he hears, forcing him to look up from his phone.

“Scarlett,” he lets out, both of them smiling at each other.

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