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wildestdreamsblog · 2 months

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Latibule Season 2: II

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: A late valentine's gift <3 I’m so sorry for taking so long. A lot happened and work is the busiest and and and life.

Masterlist, Latibule 2.I

“Hyung, did you hear me? I said-"

Kim Namjoon sighed from the other line, headache already creeping up his temples from the boatload of information Jimin was dumping on him on the other line. As who he considered to be the only sound and sane one among the seven, Namjoon was accustomed to being the voice of reason, getting the boys out of tight illegal situations, and managing the members. Min Yoongi might be the head of the mafia, but all seven of them were leaders in their own right and fields.

Seokjin was the head of the medical field, Namjoon of the twisted world of law, Jungkook of the technology world.

And this definitely was one of Namjoon’s specialties: stopping the fearless and heart-stricken leader of Bangtan from kidnapping a woman in broad daylight. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even against the illegal act itself, but could he just do it when there weren’t eyes watching him?! When the sun wasn’t at its highest?! When he wouldn’t be tomorrow’s headline?!

He ran his hand through his disheveled hair, glaring at the eldest hyung who was chuckling to himself. Seriously, he thought doctors were supposed to have no life and no time to annoy their friends? Why then was the Chief of the hospital barging in his office and lounging on his fancy sofa?

“I’m glad you found this amusing, hyung,” he commented dryly which only made the eldest laughed harder. “This isn’t something to laugh about.”

“What?! We all know something is definitely wrong with Yoongi. This isn’t news to us! This only confirmed our suspicions!”

“You could at least be supportive of what he’s going through right now.”

“Namjoon,” he started when he was finally done laughing, wiping the tears from the side of his eyes. “How do you expect me to be supportive of him right now? He’s on the verge of kidnapping a woman because he thought she looked like her. Does that make sense to you?”

He tilted his head before standing up, his movement elegant as he crossed the room to where Namjoon was sitting behind his desk. He smiled down at him, his hand supporting his weight as he leaned down on his wooden desk. “Dead people don’t exactly come back to life after burning from a fire as immense as that one, do they?” he asked, his tone light yet his eyes held faux curiosity. And at that moment, an air of danger surrounded the office. He could see the coldness that reflected on Jin’s eyes.

Namjoon knew when to back down, especially when Jin was in this mood. It was almost comical how quickly Jin’s emotions could switch, and it was definitely not amusing how bloody the effects could be. He wasn’t exactly the mafia prince for nothing. He, of all people, knew how perceptive and strategic Jin was. Never once did he do anything without a reason. And precisely because of that that it took him a moment before he answered. He lowered his eyes for a second before returning to Jin’s now amused ones. “They don’t, hyung.”

Jin nodded before turning to leave, his hand was in his pocket, his stance relaxed as though nothing was amissed. He had opened the door when he paused as though he remembered something. He twisted his body, his eyes trained on the famous attorney before his lips twisted into an entertained smile. His finger was now resting on his lips.

“Ah, unless they’re actually not dead.”

—-

Min Yoongi was like a man possessed, never leaving any stones unturned as he religiously looked for his angel.

He looked at every single piece of record of the town that the town had, employed several people to look for you, searched every available CCTV to trace any evidence that you existed, that you weren’t merely a figment of his imagination, that you weren’t merely indication of his declining sanity. Yet all roads lead to nothingness.

It was like any leads he got were mere fragments, offering little clarity or direction in the investigation. Likewise, it seemed as if someone was making sure that he’d go nowhere with the little pieces of evidences he was able to gather of your existence.

As days turned to weeks and to months, he was starting to be convinced that you were just his imagination playing tricks on him, that his mind was just too cruel to conjure an image of you, that it was just too sick to think that you came back to him. In this moment of profound longing, when the ache of your absence weighed heavily on his twisted soul, he couldn’t help but ponder about his choices in life.

On some days when he missed you the most, he thought that this must have been his karma for living his fucked-up life brutally. On a day like this when he should have been celebrating your birthday, when you were supposed to turn a year older, when you were supposed to be by his side as you blew your candle, he thought that this must have been his penance, a consequence of the twisted journey he had decided to walk on.

But wasn’t this just too painful?

Wasn’t his punishment too cruel to have the world gave him you, only to wretch you away from his arms?

Wasn’t it too cruel to have loved and lost you?

Yoongi let out a humorless chuckle, the puffs of smoke coming from his lips as he looked at what once was your home. It was your birthday, and tomorrow was your second death anniversary.

How he survived the existence without you, he would never know. He decided that he would never stop looking for you because accepting that you were gone from this fucking earth was not an option. He could feel inside the dead heart of his that yours were still beating. He knew a love as immense as what he felt for you wouldn’t die as easily as that. No.

Min Yoongi would find you.

“Happy birthday, my angel,” he whispered to nothingness, only the moon bore witness to his greeting, the night enveloped him in a solitary embrace. The echoes of his sentiment lingered in the air, hoping that his words reached you where you were.

---

“Happy birthday, eomma,” Jung Hoseok finished the song lightly, clapping the chubby little hands of your son in sync with the tune of the song. Your son was giggling as he bounced him on his lap, looking over his long lashes to Hoseok.

“Careful, the candle’s just in front of you,” he warned before shuffling the cake an inch closer to you. He came home almost an hour ago from his work in the docks with a box of cake in his hands he bought. You could no longer count how many times the three of you moved over the year, the last one being the most suspicious to you when after you came home from the market, he had already packed your bags. Before you knew it, he was already driving away from the town.

You lived in so many places.

You never felt at home in any of them.

It was unfair how you only felt at home when you were in his arms.

You clutched your walking stick on one hand, the other cautiously running your hand on the table to detect the cake’s placement.

“I’m not fully blind yet, Hoseok,” you admonished him teasingly before closing your eyes and wishing with all your heart that your son grew up happy. You wished to the heavens that his fate was kinder to him, that he didn’t have to suffer the way you did. You prayed that his fate was free from the shadows that haunted your own past.

You wished that he could live the life he deserved.

“Eomma,” he called for you, lifting his chubby arms to go to you. Hoseok cooed at him before lifting him to your lap carefully. You felt the warmth of his little arms encircling your neck, tiny lips pressing sweet kisses on your cheeks before erupting into giggles. "Eomma!"

A smile graced your face as you soaked in the pure joy radiating from your beloved child. Leaning in, you planted a loving kiss on the person you now cherished most in the world. His eyes lit up in response, a mirror image of his father's, carrying the same warmth and affection he did when he looked at you.

Hoseok watched the two of you from his seat. It was almost comical how he loathed your son’s father with all his heart, only to love his son with the same intensity. If he couldn’t end that bastard brother of his, if he didn’t have it in him to finish the job and kill you, then he would just take the life Yoongi was supposed to live.

He would never let go of the two of you- not when he found peace in this little family. The only way he would let go of this was if the only person he loved came back to him. But that was impossible, right? After all, Yoongi made sure that she would cease to exist in this world.

Wasn’t this the crueler revenge, he thought. Wasn’t this what Min Yoongi deserved?

It was almost amusing to think how he could have been dead if not for one of his brothers that saved him and you that fateful night. He could have almost missed this little slice of heaven had it not been for his brother, the only one who knew that he was still alive.

---

Almost two years ago, somewhere in a small province of South Korea

You woke up with a start, your heart beating faster as evidenced by the spike in the heart monitor attached on your bruised skin. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, attached to your bruised skin, echoed in the room, its pace mirroring the accelerated beat of your heart. The sudden awareness left you momentarily disoriented, and the sterile environment around you hinted at the gravity of the situation. As your senses sharpened, you couldn't shake the feeling that the throbbing in your chest was not only from the abrupt awakening but also from the lingering echoes of a disconcerting dream or a painful reality.

Every single thing that happened went back to you.

Every single detail of that night, of the way he smiled so tenderly at you, of the way he softly told you that he would be back, of the way a strange man entered your house and threatened you.

The recollection was vivid, etched into your consciousness like a haunting melody.

You remembered the way Suga’s face became cold the moment he saw that man. You remembered not seeing even a trace of the man you loved.

You remembered the truth and the pain that came with it, and then you remembered thinking it was your end. Beyond it all, beyond all the betrayal, lies and deceit that unfolded, you remembered wishing that he would be fine after all of that like the fool you were.

Wincing, you lifted your fragile hand to your shoulder, feeling a faint pain where the bullet had pierced your skin.

“Don’t move,” a tired voice sounded on your left. Startled, you turned to look at the source, only to find the man who attempted to kill you leaning against the wall, his own arm bandaged, his handsome face colored with faint bruises.

Hoseok didn’t come out of it unscathed, no. He looked so hallow. It was like he was a lost child, like a man that lost his purpose, like he was a shell of what once was a soul.

He must have seen your alarmed expression. He waved his other arm, his jaw clenching from the events that transpired. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You blinked at him, never trusting a word that came out of his mouth. It would be difficult for you when you saw how he unleashed hell that night.

“I-I,” you swallowed, your dried throat making it harder to speak. “d-don’t believe y-you.”

He watched you for a moment before nodding his head. That was fair, he thought. “How are you feeling? You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

What?

“Y-you waited that long to kill me?” you asked, your voice hoarse as you sat down. If he was going to end you, then you wouldn’t take it lying down.

Wordlessly, he crossed the room, lifting the glass of water on your bedside table, the straw turned to you. “Drink.”

You glared at him, distrust and anger in your eyes as you met his emotionless ones.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

You scoffed, turning your head away from him to look at where on earth you could have been. The hospital room was small, the window offering no clue as to your whereabouts. You wondered where Suga could have been.

Did he make it out alive?

Was he hurt?

Was he looking for you?

Did you want him to after what you knew?

“I do draw the line on killing expectant mothers.”

Latibule 2.III

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yoongi fic #mafia min yoongi #bts mafia au #suga x you #suga x reader

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vintagexherry · 8 months

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Part 2 here

Yandere!Miguel x reader

warnings: reader getting chased, dead miguel, Grabriella is not present,

this my first time im open for suggestion and criticism, english not my first language

breath in

breath out

breath in

breath out

breath in...

out

in....

To hell with breathing, you were hypervalating,overthinking,tired, but on top of it all.

𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙

scared if he's already behind you

scared if he's just lurking and enjoying the show

Scared if those twigs snapping was a stray rabbit or himself

Scared if you stop for even one second he will take the chance to jump at you.

all you know is that you're scared of him.

You run and run for who knows how long your legs suffer from the distance you travelled. You tried contacting any station nearby, but no signal can be detected when you're deep in the neck of the woods

This was supposed to be a vacation for you and your husband, who's weary from work, finally taking a much needed off from work.

Elated from what he announced during dinner, you and Miguel travelled to the forest, expecting a camping site you were surprised with the log cabin he showed,stating that he had planned this trip with you for weeks and finally you both have it.

The cabin is breathtaking as the ambience of the forest,birds chirping at each other,squirrels stuttering about collecting nuts, wild animals minding their own business walking past the cabin

It was as if you're in a fairytale,living with your prince, but then again, not all fairytales get to have a happy ending.

Sunset was when it happened. After touring the cabin, you and Miguel started unpacking clothes and necessities and stored them within cabinets. Miguel noticed the setting sun and wanted a fireplace to relax but with futher notice, no available log was to be seen, he called your name and notified he was gonna collect some wood with an axe he found in a storage area around the cabin.

"Be safe out there. Who knows what kind of snakes or weird bugs are out there" you said, and Miguel chuckled

"Of course, mi amor." He kisses your forehead and starts heading for the door. You wave him goodbye,notifying him that once he comes back, his favourite dinner will be ready.

Oh, how you wish he 𝘥𝘪𝘥 come back.

As you cook and prepare the meal, the moon prepares to come out as you lay out the plates, the stars layout on the sky.

You were now worried.

You checked the wall clock, it was already nine-fifty o'clock.

You tried calling him, but no signal can be shown. With that, you cover the steaming pot of food, took a flashlight and your phone, and a thick jacket that Miguel owns and wore it on

And with that, you ventured outside, hoping to hear his steps, see his face, anything at all.

You walk towards the direction you know Miguel took. As you walk with your flashlight lighting the way, your light landed on what seemed to be a footprint.

Hope rises in you as you follow the trail, but the more you follow it, the more it seems to be ragged and dragged place to place,it seemed as if there were more than one person.

As you walk by, you try to remind yourself not to go too far from the cabin."Miguel, are you there!" You called into the darkness. "Miguel! come on now,it's getting late,we can just gather wood tomorrow!" You called again, no reply...again

You start to shiver from fear and from the cold, but you decide to trek on, folllwing the trail, or what it could be left to be a trail.

Then you see it, a drop of red...

𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙥 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙

You're starting to panic for Miguel's safety. Sure, he's a big muscular buff, man, but he's not immortal.

You're following the trail even further now, to hell with the cabin. If you can't find him,you're not going back till you do.

Did he encounter a wild bear?

a snake?

a wolf?

anything that has teeth and claws?

And finally, you see Miguel, but instead of a hug and kiss for your reunion, you scream his name.

"MIGUEL!" There you see his body laying down all beaten up and bruised, scars on his face, his clothes tattered and ruined bits to bits.

You drop your flashlight and phone to gather Miguel in your arms and try to feel any pulse... a beat ... but not enough beats.

"Come on, Miguel,breath for me, mi amor."As if recognizing your voice,his eyes open as much as he can with the black eye in the way. "Y/N?" he wheezes "no...no no no, no..need..go away"

He tried speaking but his voice breaks with dry coughs, all you know his atleast alive and with that you try dragging him back to the cabin, gathering your phone and putting it in the pocket of the jacket, you pick up the flashlight and light up the way. But as you turn back, a form blocks your way.Not just any form but the form of....Miguel?

And now your running,running away from that man.Before you could even gather words, he moved faster than you could imagine and finished your Miguel off with a final slash of his claws (!?) to his neck

and with that you ran and ran far as much as you can without getting the chance to mourn your husband.

so here you are, panicking and scared of that or beast you encountered, your flashlight died minutes ago and now you rely on the moon for light.Before you could run even further a weight pushes you down on the ground covered with dirt and dead leaves.

"NO! NO NO NO NO PLEASE GO AWAY!" You pleaded again and again but that beast wouldn't move a muscles instead a hand caresses your face, too gentle for a man who murdered someone with their bare hands.

"Y/n mi amor, mi sol, my everything..please...it's me" Miguel pleaded

Ah, yes that Miguel didn't help but added fuel to the fire by adding confusion to the mix of your emotions,

you are scared

you are crying

you are mourning

you are tired

and now you are confuse

"Stop saying that you....you....YOU!"you can't even gather the words to know what to call this....whatever this doppleganger is, all you know his dangerous.

Miguel stared down at your shivering form, hitting his chest in hopes to push him away, he said nothing but snap a watch/bracelet on your wrist and carry you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You panic even more, he chases you for how long without breaking a sweat and now his kidnapping you, but with how much you run and didn't take note of your oxygen intake (lack of) and your vision starts to blur, and before you know it your fainted on the shoulder of the man that murdered your husband.

Miguel silently noticed this"Lyla, set a course to earth-928"with that command a portal opens,leading you to god knows where.

#tw yandere #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel o'hara

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amandav09 · 5 months

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Makarov x Princess Reader

Normally the next ones will be Price and Valeria. I also had to tag a person for Makarov, but I couldn’t do it, sorry

MasterList of COD x Princess Reader

Summary: the villain of the story

Warning : Makarov, it is already a warning enough

Word count : 5,8K

In every princess and prince charming story, there is a villain. The villain in question was Makarov

He frowns at Yuri and the princess laughing like old friends, the subject of their conversation was unknown to him, but the young woman was supposed to beg for mercy, cry for her life, not laugh with the commander of her army!

"Are you done?" Groans Vladimir

Both turn attention to him, Yuri steps back, retracting from the conversation. On the contrary, the princess took a step towards him, smiling teasingly in the face

“Come on, don’t make that face. You kidnap me every first of the month. Don’t be surprised if in the end I become familiar with the place and your staff”

Makarov’s fists clenched. He had stopped counting the number of times he had kidnapped him to bring him to his palace. But every time it always ended the same. The princess was saved in different ways and her palace became cold and dull again.

The princess was a cheerful woman, the first time he brought her here had not been any different. She was more curious about her surroundings than worried about her life. And in the end, they had all got used to it, to this little flash of light, which left as quickly as it had arrived

«This time, your knight will not save you»

“You said that last time too” He detected a hint of sadness. And he worked every day to make this the last

She took a deep breath and took a serious look, an expression so rare that her face appeared older

«You are a king. Keep your promise» She then turned away and took the direction of the room which had been assigned to her for a long time

Makarov watched him walk away “Yuri, strengthen security. Kill anyone who puts one foot on my land.”

Two days later, the princess entered Makarov’s office «Something new?» She had the same teasing smile in her face

Vladimir looked up at her «No answer from your father, he had to send your hero again in shining armor» He growls

The princess gets closer and leans on the side of the solid wood desk

“Last time, it took him a good week to get me back, until he arrived and found a way to infiltrate”

He continues to scribble on paper while listening to it.

«Sometimes, I feel like you’re being kidnapped» He whispers

(Y/N) slightly tilted his head to capture his gaze

“Who says I don’t?”

He put down his pen and leaned back to lean his back against the chair

"Do you like this cold place so much?" A slight grin appears on her lips

'This is not the place I like,' she thought

"My father, the king, wants to marry me. He thinks that doing so would stop you."

Makarov frowns

«Your father can never stop me, he’s been trying for a long time and yet here you are»

“He probably wants to keep me out of your little conflict by sending me away in the arms of a man I don’t know.”

«I would kill this man» He growls

"Are you jealous?"

Makarov gets up from his chair and stands in front of her grabbing her arm, wedges her between him and the desk

«Watch your words, princess» Her tone was strict

"If not, what?"

«I could make you regret it» He says between his teeth clenched.

«I want to see this» She laughs

«You will be my death» He moans, which makes her laugh even more

The door opens quickly and a soldier in armor enters quickly, his sword degenerate. His body looked like it had been rolled in the mud

“Leave the princess alone!”

Soap!

The soldier does not have time to take one step more than two men between and catches him on either side, force him to kneel

Makarov approaches him with a cruel smile

«It seems that this time the valiant knight will not have the right end»

He frowned and felt a hand grab his arm

«Please, don’t hurt her» The princess had a worried face for the weary man who was still struggling.

"Why should I do this? I finally have it!"

«This is my friend» She was not lying, a friendly bond was formed between the two by seeing each other, even a fraternal bond. She even helped him confess his feelings to his father’s army lieutenant.

“If I let him live, you’re going to be married to another man!” Makarov was angry, not at her. But against all the others who stood in his way

She let go of her arm and walked until she was in front of Soap, she knelt before him to be at his level.

"Can you give my father a message?" She gently put her hand on her cheek and he makes her a small smile reassuring, already understanding what she was going to say

“He’s not going to be happy. You know how many times I’ve had to stop him from picking you up himself?”

«He is stubborn, but he is a wise man»

"You’re worse than him. But I know what you want to say to him. I owe you that for Ghost and me."

She kisses her forehead then rises

«He is a guest, give him a good bath, to eat, to drink, and a horse»

The soldiers look at Makarov. She also turns to him «Please»

«Do what she says» He had his eyes on her

Soap got up and led out of the room. But before leaving, he turned his head towards her

«You speak like a queen» He smiled at her and then walked again

«He’s right» Vladimir walks up behind her and puts his hands on her shoulders «What will he say to your father?»

"An alliance"

"I have already offered him several times, why this time would be different?"

She turns to face him

«Because this time it is me who asks him»

“He won’t want you to be with a man like me. Even if I threatened to burn his kingdom." He spoke with full knowledge, he had already pressured him, "You want to stay with a man like me?" His tone had become lower

"I’m still here, right?" She turns to face him. Makarov quickly placed one of his hands on the side of his neck, his push stroking his jaw

«Yes you are» He quickly pulled his head towards him, diving for a kiss. Their lips collide in a tender, but hard moment

«My queen» Says Makarov, the dark voice of possessiveness «We will change this world together»

#call of duty x reader #cod x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #vladimir makarov #cod x princess reader

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may-lutlone · 3 months

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So, while I was playing Reload (great game 10/10), I was brainstorming about using the android that kills Shadows in P5. So, I came up with an AU where Akechi is an Anti-Shadow weapon. Well he is inspired by one.

Of course, there are fanarts (better than mine) or fics where he is that Anti-Shadow weapon, but I have never really seen anything dwelling into lore that much? I just saw the concept being thrown around or Phantom Thieves just being a part of Shadow Ops (feel free to correct me, I haven't been everywhere in Persona fandom ehsjskks) So here's my take, which contains spoilers for Persona 5 (obvs) and some angsty themes:

Spoilers obvs!!!!!!!!

-Wakaba killed Akechi during one of Metaverse's experiments (oops),

-she felt so guilty about it that she secretly retrieved his consciousness from there,

-using plans for an Anti-Shadow weapon

by the Kirijo Group that she somehow got hold of (maybe she stole it, maybe she just got it idc), she rebuilt him as an android and put his consciousness there (although it exists with the programming, because she wasn't that knowledgeable about robotics - she was a cognitive psicentist at heart, after all),

-was it a good decision? idk but Wakaba kinda strike me as a scientist who would think that was an excellent idea,

-Akechi disagrees, he hates her for that because now he is forever stuck as a thing that is forced to listen to orders (being forever stuck in one body also doesn't feel right I suppose),

-but they have a neutral and professional relationship that revolves around exploring the Metaverse (Akechi can still use Loki, just like Aigis can use Palladion),

-Conspiracy, learning about this, hacks Akechi-android to use him as a weapon in the Metaverse (so he still is a Black Mask, although everything is done completely without his input),

-Akechi then kills Wakaba, which she anticipated and before that she had given Futaba a copy of her research and Akechi’s plans - although she said to never use them without a really serious reasoning,

-yada, yada, yada we're in original game timeline,

-Akechi as a Detective Prince doesn't exist,

-but he does exist like a obstacle in Palaces/Mementos that hunts down the Thieves,

-let’s just say they would be able to fight him back around the time their lvl in Okumura's Palace,

-Morgana doesn't know wtf Akechi is,

-Joker has some suspicion that Akechi isn't just a machine, but he doesn't really voice it at that point,

-when they are in Futaba's palace, on one of the wall arts (the one where Wakaba works on something and Futaba is begging for her attention) they notice that Wakaba was working on one of Akechi's parts (probably his arm idk),

-so they ask Futaba (post-change of heart) what’s going on, but she has to do research,

-when Futaba joins the team, Akechi always targets her (due to his resent to Wakaba),

-they finally learn what Akechi is and that he is malfunctioning (y'know being a serial killer weapon) due to being hacked, so they decide to help him (bonus point if they can get him on their team),

-so in Okumura palace arc they set on changing the CEO heart and capturing Akechi (who is also there, because he has to get rid of Okumura),

-during the fight in that Palace, Futaba manages to free him from Conspiracy’s control (bonus point if he awakes to Robin Hood),

-when they get him back to Leblanc's attic, Futaba repairs him (because I feel like she would be into robotics just like her mom) and they learn that even if he is on their side now, he doesn't remember who he really was (even first his name, only Akechi).

So, my AU would revolve around Akechi re-learning about his past (he can bond over his amnesia with Morgana) and being as human as possible.

I have a few ideas that I probably will draw (or write, who knows), but that's all for now. Thanks for coming for my ted talk.

Bonus comic - very messy, sorry:

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fancyfeathers · 2 months

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Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Bungou Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twenty Two, The Genius That Leads

(A/N- I read Romeo and Juliet before writing this and now I love the idea of William being called the prince of cats like Tybalt because of their similarities and that being the story much of his character is based on)

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty, part two

Chapter twenty one

“Deal.” The moment you said that a smile came across his face. You glanced back at the book you were asked to retrieve, before he could say something you grabbed it from the table. You looked back over at him, keeping the book curled up in your arm. “Not a word.”

“Only if you keep your end of the deal, doll,” Ayatsuji replied as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll have a hard time hiding that book at the party, what do you plan on doing?”

“I will be leaving early, I have my own matters to tend to.” You took out your phone, ready to call your driver to pick you up. “The Society is not the only affair that keeps me busy. There is something I need to get to the bottom of, a mystery if you will.”

“How interesting, but you are not a detective, are you?” He hums, tapping his gloved finger against his cheek. His eyes are fixed on you, scanning over your form, trying to find any sign of what you are thinking.

“Perhaps, it is a family profession after all.” You picked up the skirt of your dress and began making your way towards the door. You spared him a glance as you pushed open the door to the hallway. “Now I suppose I’ll see you soon enough and hopefully we will be on the same side of the playing field. Goodbye, have a lovely evening, detective.”

“We will see…”

You stepped out into the long hallway, slowly making your way to the garage where your driver would be picking you up. You looked down at your phone, dialing up your driver’s number. The ringing mixed with the echoing of your heeled shoes as they clicked against the floor. You were a far enough distance away from the auction hall that you knew Ayatsuji was not following you, but something still felt off. You felt yourself grow more tense as you walked along the hall, as if someone was watching you. The mixture of clicking and ringing did not help calm your nerves, only blocking out another one of your senses…

Click…

Ring…

Click…

Ring…

Click…

Ring…

Click…

Ring-

You heard the line get cut at the sound of your phone getting a call. You pulled your phone away to see who was calling you, you looked down to see the contact name as none other than William Shakespeare. You hit the bright green button on the screen without hesitation, answering the call as you held it up to your ear.

“William, I have the book-“

“(Name), I need you to come to room two-three-six, the plan has changed.” You heard William’s voice speak to you, but he was not worried, not bothered, if anything he was… happy? “Things may be turning in our favor after all.”

Did he find Miss Jane already? Thoughts ran through your mind as you made your way down through the floors of the hotel. The clicking of your heels rang through the halls, everything was silent except the clicking of those heels. Soon enough you came to the door, knocking once and the door was answered not even a moment later. It was answered not a moment later by a familiar face, just not one you were expecting.

“Joan?”

Before you stood the maid who was one of the first people you met at the Society’s headquarters, only she was dressed in an outfit suited for business, a black suit and a blue plaid tie. Her long blond hair was down, not up in her usual bun that also let her blue eyes be on display. She smiled back at you, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she stepped aside to allow you to come in. “It seems we have quite a bit to explain to you.”

“What do you mean- Oh!” You cut yourself off as you entered the room, turning your head to see sitting at the table of the luxury room the familiar face of William who summoned you along with-

“I apologize for setting you up, (Name).” Those words escaped those lips, soft and gentle as always. You saw sitting at the table with William, the form of Miss Jane. She was not dressed how you expected, she herself wore a black vest over a white button up, a long blue skirt, it was simple but elegant. She rested her head against her hand, a smile coming across her face. “The truth is, I never turned myself into Fitzgerald, I would never dream of it.”

You heard the sound of the person you once thought to be a maid closing the door behind you as she approached the table. William looked over at you with a smile, before a laugh escaped from his lips. “Honestly it surprised me as well, but Jane, Wells, and Leroux fooled us all.”

“Wells?” You turned to look at the woman who opened the door for you, was that Joan’s real name? Who was she really?

“Ah yes, let me properly introduce you,” Jane said, reaching out a hand over to the woman standing beside you. “This is an old friend of mine from my work in England when I was looking for capable individuals to join the Society. May I introduce to you H.G. Wells, she has been the one keeping our Society safe from the shadows this whole time along with the one who has been brewing up those updates on where I was for Emma and the others that led to this elaborate planning for this ball that fit into the plan I devised with Wells and Leroux.”

“But Gaston is missing, I found his blood in the room along with-“

“Not missing, he is exactly where he needs to be in this plan.” Wells cut in, coming to sit down on the couch not too far from the table, swinging her arms over the back of the couch and crossing her legs. “Leroux was kidnapped by a well-known European criminal known as Nikolai Gogol. Due to Gaston’s time working with the European Union when tracking down Fyodor Dostoevsky, he found evidence that the two had connections to one another.”

“So this all has to do with Fyodor, doesn’t it?” You asked, glancing around the room at everyone.

“Exactly, Gaston had informed me of what happened when he was asked by the Port Mafia to look into the disappearance of one of their executives who had Fyodor in their custody. We immediately knew Fyodor was planning something.” Jane nodded to your question and answered as it all was obvious. “We knew that the Port Mafia would be wanting any information they could in Fyodor after so even before all this we had all of Gaston’s observations from his work in European Union on Fyodor printed into a book and set up to be sold at an auction, that’s the same book you are holding now. We planned on dangling a carrot for the Port Mafia to desire and for Fyodor to destroy.”

You glanced down at the book you held, this was all a ploy.

“I apologize for you having to be a pawn in all of this, but you played your role wonderfully.” Jane complemented with a smile, a giggle escaping her voice. “Now Gaston has Fyodor under constant surveillance and that rat has no idea, he will practically reveal everything to us and that bastard has no eyes on us because he is so focused on the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia.”

“I see, I have just a few questions…” You found yourself sitting down at the table along with the others, you felt yourself crew at your lower lip in thought. “How did you fake yourself leaving at the mansion all those months ago and how did you know that Nikolai would be here?”

“Ah, well the first answer is with Ms. Wells and her ability. She was disgusted as the driver who brought the two of us there. That envelope I gave her with the instruction to open when the time was right was all she needed to know what to do.” You glanced over at the woman on the couch, she was disgusted as a maid for all these months, what was stopping her from being disguised as a driver? “You see Wells’ ability is called Time Machine and allows her to manipulate time itself. So inside the envelope told her the exact time to activate her ability, when you got inside the car. She activated her ability on me, giving me 3300 seconds to go back in time myself and slip away from Fitzgerald, who was also used as a pawn in all of this. After that I returned to Europe for a few months, working with some old friends of mine in the Order of the Clocktower, but I am afraid that is trivial at the current moment.”

“I did not expect for you to be this much of a mastermind, Miss Jane.” You heard William chuckle as he crossed his legs with a closed-eyed smile. “But I suppose I should have expected that from the leader of the Society of Protection.”

“Well, I do pride myself on my understanding of the human mind, so manipulating it with both my plans and my ability is all too easy, no offense my dear (Name).” Jane apologized with a smile which you nodded to.

“None was taken, Miss Jane. After all, I have quite a lot to still learn.” You giggled along with her smile, which was true you did have so much to learn compared to the actual geniuses that hid within the Society. “But what of my second question?”

“Ah, about Nikolai, well that is thanks to your visit to Mr. Tonan with Leroux and Dr. Stevenson such a long time ago. Do you remember his assistant and the strange behavior he had?” You nodded at Jane’s question which caused her to hum. “I did not believe him at first, just a strange assistant and nothing more, at least that is what I thought at first. As you know Gaston is a composer at the Paris Opera House, a theater, he has experience with actors and the art of such so it is easy for him to tell when one is acting. He told me that he forced the attitude of a sane man to have a perfect accent, but not to one who works with actors from that part of the world every day, so detecting a fake accent was child’s play for him.”

“So Mr. Tonan’s assistant is Nikolai in disguise?” You asked, most. to yourself as you pondered the question and then it clicked. “Wait, Mr. Tonan and his assistant were invited to the ball, so Nikolai was among the guests.”

“Just as planned, they fell into our trap like rats.” Wells smiles as she speaks, running her hand through her hair. “And now we will trap them all like rats, all of them running in a maze they don’t even know.”

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mari-writes · 3 months

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🦉🖤

“Here you go, my prince!”

Akaashi felt Bokuto’s lips brush his cheek, and a mug was quietly placed near his laptop on the kitchen island. He mumbled his thanks, with every intention of continuing his grueling night of studying. He had so much to do…

But then he registered his boyfriend’s words. He blinked, looking up from the screen to where the man was heading back to the kitchen. “Wait. Bokuto-san, what did you just call me?”

“Huh?” Bokuto hummed as he poured from the kettle.

Akaashi was almost too embarrassed to repeat the phrase. “You… called me your ‘prince?’ Where did that come from?” Akaashi knew that Bokuto loved to use pet names. They’d only been dating for a few months, but he’d heard plenty. ‘Babe’ was the most common.

But this was new.

“Oh!” Bokuto laughed nervously. When he turned around, Akaashi noticed a rosy blush working its way up his neck. “Um, well…”

“I don’t mind.” Akaashi smiled softly. “You’ve just never called me that before.”

Bokuto nodded, putting down his mug and leaning across the counter. “Well I’ve always wanted to! And now I get to whenever I want!” He grinned at Akaashi’s continued confusion. “What I mean is… you’re really, really beautiful.”

It was Akaashi’s turn to go red. He looked down into his tea to avoid Bokuto’s fiery gaze.

“When I first saw you, I remember thinking, ‘Oh my gosh, he looks like a prince from a fairytale, or a historical drama on TV!’ And that was before I even realized I was bisexual!” He chuckled.

Akaashi sputtered. “B-Bokuto…”

“You were just so proper and lovely! And you had such good posture! That part’s changed a bit, I guess… but you’re still so put together, and focused, and um, regal? That’s a word, right?”

Akaashi was close to falling off his stool. He didn’t know how to deal with this. Would he have to endure this sort of flattery all the time now? Was this his life from now on?

“‘kaashi?” Bokuto made his way around the island. “Are you okay in there?” His voice was kind, but Akaashi detected a slight teasing tone. The man knew what he was doing. And Akaashi would have none of it.

Slamming his laptop closed, Akaashi turned and grabbed his boyfriend by his shirt. “Shut up,” he snapped, and smashed their lips together.

Akaashi wasn’t great at expressing himself. But he knew how to do this. He knew how to show the love of his life that he felt the same way, that he had been enamored with him since the very start, as well.

Bokuto made an odd sound, like a cross between a yelp and a groan. It didn’t take long before he was eagerly reciprocating, his hands sliding around Akaashi’s trim waist and pulling him off the stool. Akaashi’s arms found the back of his neck, long fingers tangling in monochrome locks.

After a few heated minutes, Bokuto pulled back. His face was beet red, hair in disarray, and the smile that split his face was blinding. “Wow!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Who knew you were so into being complimented!”

Oh you have no idea, Akaashi thought, a bit shamefully.

Perhaps, someday, he'll tell Bokuto of the pleasure he experiences when being praised. Akaashi was embarrassed at how intense it could be—especially when said praise came from the man he was currently pressed up against.

Akaashi huffed, annoyed at how close Bokuto already was to figuring it out. He was supposed to be the analytical one, wasn’t he? He bit back a pout. “Oh, just shut up and kiss me more,” he demanded.

Grinning, Bokuto leaned back in. “Sure thing, your highness...”

Yes, I wrote another silly little thread fic instead of working on my other (more important) WIPs. I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy this enough to forgive me. If you do, please leave a comment and share! It really helps me out.

You can check out my other fics here!

#bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #bokuto x akaashi #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #akaboku

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marcmarcmomarc · 5 months

Text

Ruby telling this story in front of the whole Remnant Alliance, using Robyn’s Lie Detection to prove what she’s telling them is the truth, inspired by this post:

ROBYN: So what happened on the other side of the portals?

RUBY: Well, after I fell, I met a talking mouse I named Little, then we found Weiss and Blake captured by a whole village of talking mice whom we convinced to let them go, then we found Yang fighting a Jabberwalker while missing her arm, then we realized we were in our favorite childhood fairy tale, The Girl Who Fell Through the World.

OSCAR: That fairy tale actually happened?

RUBY: Then we went to the village in the Crimson Acre to bargain with the Jinxy Peddler for Yang’s arm.

EMERALD: You met the Jinxy Peddler?

VELVET: Was he cute?

WEISS: Yeah.

RUBY: And he was older than he was in the book. Anyway, toy soldiers won the arm, and we only got it back from them because Little tried stealing another “fine treasure”, exposing Jinxy’s treasures as fakes. The soldiers escorted us to the Crimson Castle, at first to arrest us for stealing Yang’s arm, or “royal property”, before I traded Penny’s sword, with a story of her being the greatest warrior to ever live.

REMNANT ALLIANCE:

RUBY: The occasion was the birthday of who we thought was the Red King, but turned out to be the Red Prince, who was more of a spoiled brat than Weiss was at Beacon.

YANG: (nudging Weiss) Heh-heh.

RUBY: Then we challenged him to a game of chess, where he shrunk the girls to the size of chess pawns, and when we beat him, he threw a tantrum and wanted us beheaded, and the Curious Cat rescued us.

NORA: The Curious Kitty?!

REN: Were they as chatty as the book made them out to be?

RUBY: Mm-hm. Not to mention easily distracted. Anyway, they took us to look for ingredients for a Growgurt Parfait in the Garden Acre, and we met a smoking caterpillar called Herb who drugged us into seeing our past selves via leaves from the Great Tree, which we all rejected, well, which the other girls rejected, I almost gave in, before the Cat stopped me, then got Herb swallowed by a hole in the ground.

TAI: You guys did drugs?

QROW: Whoa, whoa, don’t start drinking like me, girls.

RUBY: Anyway, the Cat led us to a market to keep looking for the Parfait ingredients. Along the way, they told us about Ascension, a process that occurs when an Afteran is no longer doing the assigned role that they are supposed to be, triggered by them losing their ways, wearing out, doubting themselves, or even just finishing their assigned tasks, upon which they are taken to the Great Tree and repurposed into someone or something else with a new identity, personality, and role. Their memories are erased in the process, but the heart barely ever forgets.

REMNANT ALLIANCE: Ooh.

RUBY: And then, the market was attacked by Jabberwalkers using Neopolitan’s Semblance. We had all of the ingredients for the Parfait, and the girls grew back to normal size just as we got assistance from the Rusted Knight riding his white rabbit.

WHITLEY: You know, Weiss had a crush on the Rusted Knight when she was a kid.

BLAKE: I think everyone had a crush on the Rusted Knight at some point.

RUBY: Well, things didn’t help when he turned out to be a grown-up Jaune with longer hair and a beard, who grabbed a fruit that sent him back in time twenty years right after he landed.

REMNANT ALLIANCE:

NORA: Oh, my Gods, Jaune.

JAUNE: I was stuck there isolated from other human contact, too.

YANG: Weiss certainly loved how mature he was.

RUBY: And the white rabbit was a jackalope Jaune named Juniper.

NORA: Aw, Jaune.

RUBY: Then Jaune told us his perspective on the Tree, that he believed it was death, that Alyx backstabbed her brother Lewis, the author of the fairy tale, who wrote the story the way he wished it had happened, and that the Cat couldn’t be trusted, then we got sent to a punderstorm, which creates a physical manifestation of a mental or emotional problem. Jaune, Weiss, and I were sent to metaphorical and literal crossroads, while Yang and Blake were sent to two broken, wooden, rickety bridges connected to a giant pillar they could only advance toward if they were honest about their feelings for each other. Yeah, Yang and Blake are girlfriends now.

REMNANT ALLIANCE:

NORA: See, Ren? I told you there was more going on!

KALI: Our baby girl found love?

TAI: With my sunny little dragon?

RAVEN: She really is your daughter, then, Tai.

RUBY: Then the Cat bailed on us after mistaking us for selfishly using them to get home, and once the storm passed, Jaune let us spend the night in his house in the Origami Acre, then he introduced us the next morning to a village of paper stars called the Paper Pleasers whose purpose was finished and kept trying to go to the Tree to gain a new purpose, but Jaune had been stopping them for as long as he knew them. Then Neo’s Jabberwalkers attacked, and while we were distracted, the Paper Pleasers finally managed to commit mass suicide via destroying the koi pond dam, then when the girls asked me to help comfort Jaune, I blew up at them for caring more about everyone else’s feelings or getting home, and taking my mental health for granted and ignoring my suffering…

REMNANT ALLIANCE:

WBY+J:

RUBY: …then I ran away, came across the Abandoned Acre, and entered a random mansion, where Neo had made clone illusions of Roman Torchwick, Penny, Pyrrha, Professor Lionheart, Clover, Professor Ozpin, and General Ironwood, and used them to physically and psychologically destroy me, and when the chaos was over, I didn’t want to be me anymore, not helped by Torchwick’s question: “Do you really think you can stand to watch more of your friends fall, or are you ready to admit the truth? That the world would just be better off without you?”

REMNANT ALLIANCE (passing tissues around):

RUBY: Then Neo offered me tea made from leaves from the Tree intended to wipe me from existence, then the Cat blasted her away, but then turned out to be evil and tried to possess me, then Neo fought them off and stomped Little to death, then I drank the tea, offing myself, and got swallowed by the Tree.

YANG: (tearing up) Oh, Rubes.

RUBY: Then I met a Blacksmith, who I also found at the market, or, rather, she found me, and then she presented me with a choice to either be someone else or myself. I saw my mom’s weapon and was treated to a vision of the night she left with Raven on another one of Ozpin’s secret missions and never came back.

TAI: (turns accusingly at…) Raven?

RAVEN: (sheepishly) Uh, surprise?

HARE: (to Ruby) Wait. What did you say your mother’s name was again?

RUBY: Summer.

HARE: (muttering) So, her uncle is Qrow, her father is Taiyang, and her sister’s mother is Raven. All are members of Team STRQ. Summer, Summer, Summer… (out loud) Summer Rose, the leader of Team STRQ, was your mother?

REMNANT ALLIANCE (walla): Summer?…Summer Rose?…The previous silver-eyed Huntress?…That’s Summer Rose’s daughter?

RUBY: Yeah. And then, I finally chose to be myself and grow into a better Huntress. And I. Came. Back, and helped the girls fight the evil Cat. And we won.

REMNANT ALLIANCE:

RUBY: And then Neo killed the Cat with the Jabberwalkers, who, by the way, are the only creatures to prevent Ascension if they eat Afterans. And, according to the girls, Neo was possessed by the Cat, and she chose to accept Torchwick’s death and undergo her own Ascension. Oh, and Little ascended, too, into who we called Somewhat, and succeeded Jaune as the protector of the Ever After. And then, we had made it to the Tree, and we walked through the door back home, landed inside the plane of the Tree met the Blacksmith again at her workshop, and when we noticed two statues of the Brother Gods, she told us their backstory. That the Ever After was overfilled with plants and dangerous wildlife in its primordial years, but the Brothers were created to clear it out. Then they created the Afterans as well as the different acres for them to live in. They designed new creations that would replace them in maintaining the Ever After. This was how the Cat was created. They later created the Jabberwalker as a form of destruction. However, the two disagreed on whether it disrupted the balance or not and began to wage war.

OSCAR: (scoffs) What else is new?

RUBY: The Blacksmith told us how balance isn’t supposed to be two opposing forces locked in battle; balance is an ecosystem, an organism, and a living thing, thus balance isn’t restored with force or manipulation, it’s restored naturally, requiring love and patience to see it through to the end. The Gods got to Remnant because the Ever After created a door to a “greater beyond” for the Gods, so they can leave and experiment in creating new worlds as much as they like.

NORA: (snickering) So the Tree basically said, “You think you have life sorted out? Then get out of my house”?

RUBY: Pretty much.

TEAM RWBY, JAUNE, AND REMNANT ALLIANCE:

YANG: (wiping a tear) Oh, my Gods, that’s such a hilarious way of looking at it. Thanks, Nora.

RUBY: Anyway, the Blacksmith told us that we have impacted the Ever After significantly; just like Somewhat, Alyx, and Lewis, and that the Cat caused a bad impact, and then she made us a portal in the desert on the outskirts of the city, and now you’re all caught up.

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jerzwriter · 4 months

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It always starts somewhere...

This is my entry for Day one of @choicesjanuary2024 January Challenge. I hope you enjoy it!

Book: Crimes of Passion (post book 2) Pairing: Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose Category: Fluff with a dash of angst Rating: Teen Words: 1,200 Summary: It's a tradition. A day Carolina always looks forward to, even if it's filled with bittersweet memories. But tonight, the tradition starts anew, with Trystan by her side.

Darkness had already enveloped the city as Carolina drew the curtains. Her face bright with anticipation, she gazed out her bedroom window onto the street below. There was only one thing on her mind as she mindlessly twirled the crystal flute of Chardonnay in her hand, nearly forgetting it was there. But the moment she remembered, she eagerly brought the glass to her lips, savoring the rich, oaky flavor as it swirled over her tongue, warming her more than the roaring fire ever could.

Despite the dipping temperature, she slipped off her cardigan and tossed it on a nearby chair. Eyes still focused on the freezing pavement, and she couldn't help but smile. This wasn’t the first time she had practiced this ritual; it was practically as old as she was, even its practices had been amended over the years. The ceramic mug her father bought for her when they saw Annie was no longer in her hand. The delicious aroma of the hot cocoa that had filled it was also gone, just like her father, who once sat at her side.

The unwelcome visitor was drawing near. Sadness, reaching in and gripping her as it often did made her eyes flicker away, but she turned back with determination. No! Sadness and despair would not win today; not on a night as special as this. Her fingers traced the rim of the crystal chalice that her father had used years before. The only one she’d consider using today.

“Ves eso, Papi?” she whispered into the deafening silence. “Any moment now.”

He must have entered quietly, or perhaps she was too distracted to hear him because his breath was warm on her neck and his arms gently encircled her waist before she heard a sound. Then, she had to laugh. Was she even a detective after all?

“What will be any moment now?” Trystan whispered, brushing her hair to the side and placing gentle kisses on her freshly exposed skin. She leaned into him, a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaping her as she melted into his arms. Just like that, all was right with the world.

“Mi Vida,” she smiled. “This is a very important night.”

His eyes widened for a quick moment... concerned he had forgotten an important date. Then, his expression softened as he recalled the stormy forecast.

“That’s right,” he grinned. “The first snowfall of the year.”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. “More importantly, our first snowfall together.”

“I see you have your father’s wine glass,” he smiled. “And the curtains are drawn, so you have everything you need.”

She gently placed the glass on the table beside her and turned to face him; her eyes lingering on his moonlit features. “At least I do now." Her lips moved toward his, claiming them as her own in warm, comforting kiss.

“Mmm-mmmh,” he simpered before playfully pulling away. “Oh, no, Lina. No way. I’ve been waiting to participate in this ritual for some time, and I will not allow you seduce me away from it.”

She strolled toward the old mahogany sideboard with a chuckle. "Oh really," she said, pouring another glass for her love. A playful smirk tugged at her lips when she placed it in his hands. “Then you’ll need this... if you plan to do it right."

He nodded with approval upon taking a sip. “This is quite good; I suppose the seduction could wait.”

“How noble of you!” Carolina teased.

“But, of course! I am a prince, after all.”

Shaking her head with delight, she fell into his arms and and Trystan tried to determine if that sound of her laughter had become his favorite melody of all. It was undoubtedly in his top three, each spot now claimed solely by his Carolina. But his body tensed as he realized her laughter had turned to tears that dampened the crook of his neck. He clasped the sides of her face, worry weighing on his features.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, gazing into her tear-filled eyes. “Are you all right? I thought this was a happy tradition?”

“It is,” she sniffled, wiping away her tears. “But it’s different now, and it’s my first time sharing it with you.”

“Is that OK?” he asked. “If you’d rather be alone...”

“No, no!” She grabbed his hand and held it against her heart. “I’ve done this alone for years now, ever since my father died. Honestly, I never thought I'd share this with anyone else again, but now... I can't wait to experience this with you by my side.”

He pulled a chair closer to the window so they could sit without missing a thing, then motioned for her to sit on his lap. “I’m glad to hear that,” he assured. “Because there is no place I’d rather be.”

“So, how does this work?” He asked, getting down to business. “Do we do anything special while we wait?”

“Nope, we just keep watch. Whoever spots the first snowflake has to yell, ‘Look, it’s a blizzard!’ and then we share a toast.”

“A blizzard?” Trystan chuckled. “Carolina, a flake of snow does not a blizzard make.”

“Of course not, but it is how each one begins. Everything has to start somewhere, and that’s what makes it so remarkable. We watch one single snowflake fall to the earth, so innocent, so insignificant on its own, but when we wake up tomorrow the city will be blanketed in snow, and you and I will know, that it all started with that one little flake we watched together.”

She could feel him swallow as he gently turning her chin his way. “Everything starts somewhere,” he whispered. “And we never know what beautiful places it might lead.”

The world fell into slow-motion as their lips came together. The familiar, sweet taste filling their sense as everything else fell into the shadows. He pulled her closer, as her fingers ran through his hair, and the rest of the world was lost. Neither knew how long they stayed like that, but they couldn't forget Trystan's childlike gasp when he briefly opened his eyes.

“Look," he pointed with exasperation. "It’s a blizzard!” A solitary silver flake glistened in the streetlights as it slowly twirled down to the street below. They jumped to their feet, foreheads pressed against the cold glass, unwilling to miss a moment as it descended to the earth.

“It is! It’s a blizzard!” Carolina squealed, grabbing their wine glasses to propose a toast. “It’s our first snowflake, Trystan! The first snowflake has fallen, and with it, a new chapter begins.”

“To new beginnings,” he smiled, reaching out to caress her cheek one more time before they emptied their glasses. Side by side, they watched as more flakes fell, one by one, until a whispy, barely there sheet coated the sidewalks.

“You see, it’s happening!”

“It is," he smiled. "I dare say that we will wake to that blanket of snow tomorrow."

“We will,” she beamed. "But until then, I was thinking I'd like to get under the blankets with you. Are you in?"

Trystan took Carolina in one arm, as the other hastily pulled the drapes closed, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"I am so in," he smiled. "Look at us, sharing new things every day."

"Yep," she agreed. "One day this will all be old hat... we'll be some old couple boring those around us with stories of all the blizzards we've watched begin together. Hopefully, you won't grow tired of it by then."

"Are you kidding? Each snowflake is different, no snowstorm the same... and every day is a new discovery because I fall in love with every little thing you do."

A/N: Incorporated all 3 parts of @choicesjanuary2024 Day 1, though, I cheated and didn't use the sentence as the first line! Also participating in @choicesflashfics, prompt "I fall in love with every little thing you do."

@choicesficwriterscreations Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #crimes of passion #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x mc #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play #january challenge #writing challenge #trystan x carolina

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loserdiaz · 9 months

Text

inspiration saturday! 🌊

tagged by @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @prince-buck-diaz @wildlife4life 💗

this is for the witness protection fic that i started five seconds ago lmao.

(also psps eddie will be a fisherman. ot didn't win the poll i made yesterday but @bigfootsmom made a really strong case for him and now im obsessed with the idea)

here's literally all i have for it rn:

Something bad is coming. When you've been working as a detective and have been undercover as much as Evan Buckley has, you tend to get a sixth sense about these things. You just know that something is about to happen, you can feel it deep onto your bones. You feel a shift in the air, almost. The first sign is when Buck walks into the warehouse where the heart of the operation is always beating. Where the information is supposed to flow and Buck is supposed to merge into the shadows, become one with all of them and get as much as he can so they can bust this crime nest and watch it crumble to the ground. Watch the empire that one of the most dangerous men in all of Los Angeles has worked so much to build up, fall. But when he first walks into the place on a Saturday night, as he has been doing for five months already, everything is silent. Dangerously, hauntingly silent. That's when he first knows something is about to go down, the fear hot and thick forming in his chest and growing every second that passes. By the time he hears a door close behind him, he can barely breathe around it. "Hello, Daniel… Or should I say, Detective Evan Buckley?" The Butcher's voice reverberates throughout the warehouse, loud and menacing. Buck closes his eyes for a few seconds, takes a deep breath and then turns around, trying to keep his face as neutral and blank as he can, despite his heart lurching to a sick halt. He's been discovered. "I don't know what you're talking about." He lies, even when he knows it's probably too late.

tagging: @buddierights @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @honestlydarkprincess @diazblunt @buck2eddie @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @prettyboybuckley @heartshapedvows @panbuckley @spaceprincessem @cowboy-buck @911onabc and anyone else who wants to!!!

#inspiration saturday #witness protection fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie wips #911 abc #911 on abc

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sailtomarina · 7 months

Text

The Artist's Daughter

She was here again.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, First and Only Prince to the kingdom, stayed hidden in the stacks next to a row of tomes dictating the genealogies of the royal families dating back hundreds of years. He had his private tutor to thank for the tiresome task of locating the volume listing the exact ancestor Draco had failed to name correctly in his latest exam. The other day, he’d been here searching for a text that would answer which crops their kingdom specialized in for exports. Ridiculous, really. As if he wouldn’t some day have advisors to do all this research for him.

Then, just like today, he’d seen a girl wandering through the shelves. She hadn’t noticed him, of course. Draco was far too sneaky to be detected by some muggle, which she had to be given her unaware musings as she walked around with her nose buried in a book.

The first time, he’d remained hidden, even going so far as to cast a disillusionment spell on himself. As surprised as he was to see a stranger, he supposed that if they were to wander any of the handful of libraries in the castle, this was the most appropriate one. It was situated on the ground floor not too far from the entrance and ballroom. This is where most of the muggle texts were organized, along with an unfortunate number of historical texts currently pertinent to Draco’s education.

She’d struck him as pretty, albeit in a muggle sort of way. She’d worn a simple lady’s gown in a pale yellow that contrasted with the rich dark curls tumbling down her back. Freckles sprinkled generously across her pale skin, markings his cousins would have glamoured over from birth. If he guessed correctly, they weren’t too far apart in age, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. That was another indicator of her humble breeding—he didn’t recognize her, not from school or from the countless balls and feasts he’d attended growing up. She couldn’t be a noble.

Today, she wore a dress in a lovely sage green with tiny white flowers embroidered along the scoop neckline. Draco imagined her eyes to match the green, or to perhaps blink at him in a hazel hue. He needed to know.

“Who are you?” His voice came out much harsher than intended.

He’d stepped out in front of her just as she was about to pass, causing her to come to an abrupt stop before crashing into him. Startled eyes, irises dark brown and glinting with a hint of gold, gazed up at him. He’d been wrong about the colors.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there. I’m Hermione Granger. And you are?” She stepped back to an appropriate distance from him, hugging a few books to her chest like armor.

“I’m Draco,” he said simply.

“The prince?” She didn’t sound too surprised, and eyed his unmistakable platinum hair.

��The very same. Why are you here in the library?” He’d finally tempered his tone to a more congenial one.

“I was told I could read whatever I liked in here. My father is painting your Grand Ballroom.”

Ah. She was the daughter of the painter.

His mother made it a point to elect a new project as soon as the previous one was complete. Previous years had resulted in a reworked Imperial Garden, which boasted rose gardens with every imaginable variety, both magical and non-magical. A formidable greenhouse was added shortly after, and the caretaker they’d employed soon obtained and cultivated the rarest of specimens for use in medicine and potions.

This year, Queen Narcissa turned her attention to the Grand Ballroom. She and his father adored hosting balls at every opportunity. What better way to display their love for art and beauty than to paint the entire ceiling and all its walls with depictions of magical beasts and figures from history. Circe. Merlin. Rasputin. Titania and Oberon.

Draco had assumed they’d hire a wizard, but he should have known that when it came to art, the king and queen saw no difference between magic or not. They simply wanted the best, and if that happened to be stationary art, then so be it.

“Find anything interesting?” He feigned interest, intent on keeping her talking. She was far more entertaining than pouring over volumes of ancestors alone.

She perked up at his question, and Draco could have sworn sections of her hair floated for just a brief moment.

Certainly not.

“I did! Did you know your castle is situated on top of the most powerful spot in the kingdom? All of the most prominent ley lines converge here underneath our feet!” She stomped one foot in emphasis. He wouldn’t be surprised if she went through several slippers a season if she always beat on them in that manner.

Wait.

Did she say “ley lines”?

“Are you a witch?” he blurted out, once again wincing at the gracelessness of his question. His mother would be mortified if she could hear him.

Hermione looked at him as if he was stupid. “Yes. Why else would your family let me wander around here by myself?”

“I don’t know, maybe because this is the one library of many where muggles are allowed? They do come here occasionally, muggle nobles, to garner favor with us,” he sputtered. He still couldn’t quite believe it. She was a witch. She was an unknown witch of his age. “Why don’t I know you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

“My parents are muggles. I might have a squib ancestor somewhere, but as far as we know, I’m the only magic user in the Granger family. They sent me abroad for schooling since Hogwarts doesn’t currently accept muggle-borns.” She raised her eyebrows as if challenging him, but Draco couldn’t find it within himself to care about her background.

Hermione didn’t fawn on him like the other girls who had paraded themselves around him at school. She didn’t bat her eyelashes or titter behind a gloved hand. She didn’t wear gloves at all, her slender fingers wrapping around ancient texts as if relishing the touch of the worn covers. She probably thumbed the pages like his instructors told him never to do.

He would have thought that would annoy him, but he instead found himself intrigued in this muggle-born witch who liked reading, wore slippers instead of heels, and forewent glamours.

“Do you want to see the other libraries?”

His words were like a spell, as effective at getting her to brighten as a cheering draught.

“Oh, can I? The king and queen won’t mind?” She nearly vibrated in her excitement.

Her hair was definitely twice the size it was before.

“Not if you’re with me,” Draco said with a smirk, though that was partially a lie. If they’d wanted her in the other libraries, they would have explicitly told her.

“Well, in that case, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” She made to dash away, but he caught her shoulder before she could do so.

“Allow me,” he said with a gesture towards the books still clutched to her chest.

“Oh, I can carry these.”

“Please, I insist.” It wouldn’t do if either of his parents not only caught him skiving off lessons with the girl, but allowing her to carry around books like some commoner. When she finally let go of her findings, he cast a featherweight charm and looked at her knowingly. She flushed an adorable shade of pink.

“They really weren’t very heavy, but thank you anyways.”

They spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring, only making it to two additional libraries. Hermione had only added to the pile of books floating behind Draco. He had to refresh the charm multiple times due to the sheer weight.

“You do realize you can’t remove these from the castle, don’t you?” He hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her, that she’d continue to visit along with her father for as long as there was work. “How long will it take your father to finish the ballroom?”

“To answer your first question, yes, I do understand that I’ll need to reserve these books to read later. I was hoping you could help with that.” He nodded his agreement, even as he inwardly danced with joy at the thought that he now had a reason to continue seeing the girl. “And to answer your second, it could take my father years.”

“Years?” Draco was aghast at the approximation.

“Years,” she repeated. “If you go take a look, you’ll see why. He’s not even working alone—he has an entire team helping with the moldings and scenery.”

Trust his mother to pick a project of such staggering proportions that it required multiple artists. On the bright side, that meant he’d have a long time to get to know Hermione, even if it was only during the holidays.

“It’s a shame you can’t attend Hogwarts.” It wasn’t until she tutted in agreement that he realized he’d said the words aloud. If she’d been like any other girl, she would have pounced on any hint of attachment on his part. She, however, did not.

“Well, if the king’s word is true, then I may soon. In exchange for my father’s work, yours agreed to update Hogwarts’ policies. I love Beauxbatons, but I can’t disagree that staying closer to home would make everything a lot easier on my family.”

“If you do,” Draco said the words slowly, hardly believing they were coming out of his mouth but needing her to know before it was too late, “then you should ask to be sorted into Slytherin.”

His heart sank at the way her nose wrinkled and lips turned downward in a grimace. “Isn’t that house renowned for pureblood ideology? I was leaning more towards Ravenclaw, myself.”

He nodded somewhat agreeably. “Books and cleverness…you could certainly do worse. They’re not a bad lot, if you ignore their tendency to disappear into their studies. Though…” he trailed off, reluctant to give away his feelings again without assistance.

“Though it might mean we don’t see each other? I wouldn’t let that happen outside of exams,” she said offhandedly. “I’ll keep in mind what you said. Snakes can be quite clever, in a sneaky kind of way.” The pointed look she sent Draco reminded him of how he’d approached her in the first place.

“Quite.”

A gentle melody played in the air, noting the top of the hour and finishing with eight long chimes.

“And that’s my cue. Hold on to those for me, would you?” Hermione leaned up onto her toes, laid the palms of her hands atop his shoulders, and pressed a kiss onto one cheek, then the other.

Draco could do nothing but stand still in shock at her forwardness. Then he remembered where she went to school and the strange habits the people of that land practiced. He cleared his throat to cover his awkward silence, but the crooked smirk she wore proved the attempt useless.

“When will I see you next?” He realized how needy that sounded as it came out, and hastily continued,“Just so I know when to have them ready?”

She flitted to the doors and didn’t respond until she was nearly through them, “I’m sure you’ll find me!”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind her stack of books, the echoes of her soft lips on his face, and the sweet scent of apple blossoms in the air. Draco wondered if she had perhaps cast some sort of love spell on him. How else could he explain his complete lack of reservation around her, or why her humble origins didn’t matter to him like he thought they should?

Queen Narcissa found him still in contemplation shortly after, and was impressed at the amount of reading material gathered around him.

“My dragon, there you are! Wilfred said he’d sent you to recover texts on our family history ages ago.”

“Mother, did you know the painter has a daughter?”

Narcissa blinked as she processed the odd question. “Master Granger? Of course. Hermione is a lovely, bright little thing. I told her she could read whatever she liked in our First Library. Why do you ask?”

Her son continued to stare at the wall, and she had half a mind to cast a homenum revelio.

“Draco?”

He came to with a shake and gave her one of his rare, full smiles. “No reason. I think we’ll be wonderful friends. You should make sure Hogwarts changes their acceptance rules before school starts again.”

Bewildered and bemused, she stroked a hand over his hair, so like his father’s. “I take it the two of you met?”

“We did. These are all hers.” He gestured towards the books once more.

“And here I thought you’d finally taken an interest in your studies.”

He snorted and she nearly pinched him on the arm for his cheek. She made do instead with a tickle to his side. He ducked away from her with a laugh, holding up his hands in surrender. “Mother, please! That isn’t fair! You know all my weak spots.”

She desisted in her attack with another indulgent smile. “And don’t you forget it. Just be careful with Hermione, dear.”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head in confusion and she nearly sighed at his naivety. The young could be so oblivious, but she envied them their freedom.

She thought back on her own upbringing. The Blacks were more ancient and arrogant than even the royal family; her marriage to Lucius had been agreed upon at birth and as expected as the fact that clouds brought rain and Blacks were as pure as pure could be. She knew she was his from the beginning, and no amount of pining after others or imagining life in another place with a different name would change her fate.

Narcissa looked at her son, a near perfect replica of her husband aside from the softer grey eyes she’d bestowed upon him and his smile. He’d been so much like her at the start, but over the years he’d become more and more like his father. Now, today, he was like his younger self again.

She didn’t care what Lucius intended for his heir. She just wanted him to find happiness.

“True friends are difficult to come by, particularly for people of our station. I have a feeling that, if you nurture your relationship with Hermione, she’ll be someone worth keeping at your side.”

“What would father say?” he asked, caution and desire battling for domination on his face.

“He prizes power above all else.” This much was true. Lucius just happened to have a bit of a blind spot outside of magical families. “Apply yourself to your studies, help one another, and I’ll take care of Hogwarts and your father.”

Listening to his mother, Draco started to relax and let a bit of his earlier hope trickle back in. He wasn’t sure how Hermione had secured her approval, but she had. Greater deeds had been turned into ballads.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit terrifying sometimes?”

Narcissa smirked, immediately reminding Draco of wild curls and a smattering of freckles. The two women looked wildly different, yet they gave off a similar air of confident capability.

“I have been told. Once or twice.”

He made a note to tread carefully around Hermione in the future. If she turned out anything like his mother, he never wanted to be on the opposite end of her ire.

Oh, the feats they would accomplish together.

WC 2606

DHRMonth Prompt: Week 4 - Alternate Universe, September 22 - Royal AU

Cross-posted to AO3

I have half a mind to write a full story in this setting, since it spiraled into something I want to know more about. I didn’t think I used to have a thing for royal AUs, but maybe I do???

#dramione month #dramionemonth #dramione #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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anjelicawrites · 7 months

Text

The winner takes it all

Chapter IV (I, II, III)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: inspired by the Æthelflæd and Erik's storyline in The Last Kingdom. Might be spoilerish if you haven't seen it (go watch it!!!), even though I've just stolen the inspiration and went on with the story my way.

Warnings: Canon compliant violence, Aemond’s brothel experience, male masturbation, p in v sex, outdoor sex, anxiety.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns are used (they are called “lady” and “daughter of the North”). The only descriptor is that they have long hair.

A/N 1: this is an AU. Look at me taking the canon story of Westeros and yell “Parkhour!” as I jump out of the window clutching it in my hands.

18+ only, tank you!

Aemond knows he should keep his end of the bargain; you have been eating the food provided for you, he is the one lacking on his promise.

The problem is not taking you out for a quick walk, you are a prisoner, his prisoner, he can do whatever he wants with you. A nice stride outside the city walls isn't a problem, being alone with you is. What is he supposed to do while you are walking? Talking to you? About what? And why would you even entertain the thought of exchanging pleasantries with him? Should he stay silent then? Be your looming shadow while you breathe some fresh air? What a nice thought, right? Not only are you bounty, you are also forced to spend time with the very man who stole you away and who will conquer your home. You have no respite, no way of not thinking about what is happening. All thanks to him!

Shit! He is pacing again, his room too small and stuffy for his jumbled thoughts. Sword practicing, that's what he needs to drag his mind out of this gutter, then talking with Aegon about what to do next: it's still too early to send envoy with the ransom request, some northerner spies have been spotted, though and need to be dealt with and the defenses need to be strengthened in case your people try something desperate to free you.

Down in your cell, you are not in better shape than Prince Aemond is. Your brain is torn between worrying for you people and the knowledge that you cannot seem to escape whatever spell he has put on you. You haven't seen him since your bath and his presence still looms, the lilac of his eye haunting you with its beauty. The warmth of his hand enveloping yours still burns your skin; how is that even possible? Not even while courting with your husband, before he showed you his true colors, you felt his presence as strongly as you are experiencing Prince Aemond's. The way he stared at you, devouring your frame still gives you goosebumps; he didn't make you feel gross or violated, which is a first in your entire life, but you have no idea why his stare is so intense every time it lands on you. He doesn't look at you as if you are a thing to be owned, even under these circumstances, where you are no more than spoils. You keep asking yourself why and your mind spirals into a maze of ulterior motives he might have.

Your feet carry your body around the small cell for the thousandth time today, you still cradle the hand he's kissed, your fingers brushing the spot where his lips landed. Your heart beats fast in your chest the more you think about your last interaction; what is going on with you?

The commotion in the courtyard outside your small window forces you away from your thoughts, you grab the bucket to get to the bars and see what is going on. At first there’s just people huddled up together, for a second you think they are preparing defenses, but no, they are excited for something you can’t really see, until they form a big, loose circle and you can see Prince Aemond and a man you don’t know, swords in hand, ready to fight. You know this is some sort of practice by the way everyone is cheering and laughing, you feel no animosity in the air, just plain excitement.

You tell yourself to look at Prince Aemond to detect at least one hint of weaknesses from him, something that can be used in battle to kill him, but your eyes can't focus on his perfect swordsmanship, only on his fast, lithe body. His waist is so slim and trim, enhanced by the shape of his tunic and belt, you notice, his legs powerful in the black leather of his breeches. His hair follows his movements as if this was a dance, not a fight. He is deadly and graceful, even when his opponent uses his blind side against him, he is too fast for that to be a good move and he wins easily.

You realize you were mesmerized by him, when the cheering violently slams you back into your thoughts: you shouldn't have done that, staring at your enemy the way you did, appreciating his skills, noticing the faint redness on his pale cheeks after the workout.

His eye find yours in the distance, again you can help but lose yourself in the lilac hue; you've heard snakes can hypnotize their victims before striking: what is a dragon if not a winged snake?

He stiffly bows for you, the movement too fast for his people to notice, but you do and heath just explodes into your lower belly. As shame does.

Aemond feels even worse after sword practicing, knowing that you have been staring at him. He didn't notice you at first, too focused on his adversary, he did realize you were looking at him afterwards, when his body felt hot and sticky under the leather. You have been staring and his brain cannot help itself but wondering if you liked what you saw, if you believed him to be strong and courageous enough to have him for yourself.

A part of him, the small, overlooked child, who wants to be seen and appreciated, wants you to compliment him, to be proud of him. No, he tells himself, we are not going down that road. He has to splash icy cold water on his face and chest, instead of indulging in a warm bath, trying as he might to gain the composure he's lost the moment he's seen your face half hidden by the iron bars.

His cock has other ideas though, stiff and painful against the leather of his breeches. Aemond knows he needs cold water for that as well, his hands even go for the pitcher and then they stop. He sees his fingers uncurl from the metal, like an out of body experience, they open the latch of his breeches and curl around his manhood. I shouldn't do this, I shouldn't do this, he tells himself, his body heads in another direction, one he has no control over.

He can't even coordinate himself enough to lie on the bed, his hips move on their own accord, his fingers tight around his cock, moving up and down again and again, thumb caressing the engorged head, spreading precum along his shaft as his movements become faster and faster. Moans spill from his lips as the pleasure curls at the base of his spine. His forehead finds a wall and he stays there, his brain conjuring images of your naked body and soft lips, painting the picture of him desecrating your mouth as you moan wantonly just for him, your hands cupping his ass to push him even deeper inside of you. His fingers curl tighter, pulling at the tight skin of his cock, his hips jackhammer against nothing as pleasure engulfs him, sweat runs down his arched back until he comes with a shout, his knees giving out.

He curls into a ball while his lungs try to gather as much oxygen as possible: he has held his breath without noticing, how stupid of him.

Tears prickle his eyes and run down his high cheeks; he knows he should feel shame for having followed his instincts, for having lost his control over the pleasure of the flesh, for having imagined debasing you like a tavern whore. He just wants you, without a hint of shame or guilt, he wants you to want him, to have you welcome his cock inside of your depths. He wants to know what you sound like when pleasure envelops you, when it's too much and not enough for your brain to understand.

You destroyed whatever dam keeping his sexual needs and wants under wraps; he hasn't had many lovers after being forced to lie with a prostitute at thirteen, feeling shame and disgust every single time he did have a partner, even fantasizing about a person made him feel gross and violated, at times.

What kind of spell have you put on him, to make him feel so free in his desires and in need of your skin?

He knows it's stupid and dangerous to want you for himself, he shouldn't even entertain the idea of never giving you up, of making you his Queen in the North. He should value you only for the gold your people will pay for your freedom and for being spoils of war, nothing more.

Shit! He thinks I need to make it stop, I am in control!

He will seek you tonight, he decides, accompany you during a short stroll and if his body betrays him again, he knows painful ways to punish it.

Prince Aemond comes to your cell well after you had finished eating and were getting ready to sleep, the complicated Valyrian tresses undone, your hair flowing down your back like a veil. His expression is stone, his lips are pursed together as he hands you a warm cloak lined with fur that you don’t really need; you elect to stay silent, your years of marriage have taught you how to read the room and Prince Aemond doesn’t look like he is in a talking mood. Why come to you, if he didn’t want to?

In silence you two walk to a smaller door in the walls, guarded by four heavily armed men, who salute the Prince and make as much space between their burly bodies and yours. You don’t know in details what happened to the man who had tried to attack you, the woman who braids your hair every morning is silent on the topic and the bustling around the courtyard told you nothing, but that something had happened to that man, something awful by the way those men stare at you with fear, unarmed as you are in your fur cloak.

You breathe deep in your chest when the cold air hits your face, your hands flying to the hood of the cloak to push it back enough to smell fully the oncoming spring. You forget where you are and who is accompanying you, too concentrated in enjoying the fresh air of the North, the wind sneaking under your hood, its cold caress down your spine, goosebumps blooming everywhere as you walk the uneven path around the castle.

Prince Aemond’s hand shoots out when you trip on an unseen root, it clenches like a manacle around your wrist, the other goes to your shoulder, steadying you. You mumble how sorry you are, evading his deep stare, his hands remain on your body, warm and big and, secretly, welcomed; how long has it been since anyone touched you without a violent intent?

“We should sit - he says - the night is too dark to properly walk around”

“Afraid my people would come and save me if we had a stroll during the day?”.

The night is dark, but your faces are too close for you not to miss the feral curl of his lips, him knowing something that you don’t. There must have been scouts from your camp, trying to assess the situation, did they manage? You don't think they did, his smile tells you as much.

You don't protest when he lowers you onto the grass, his leathers creaking as he sits next to you.

In a show of defiance, years of marriage made you forget you could have, you open the clasps of the cloak, letting it fall behind you, the cold wind finally free to play with your tresses as Prince Aemond lets out a surprised uhm.

"It's cold" he says, adjusting the material around his legs and torso

"This is not cold. What do you know about the cold? When the wolves come howling and the tears freeze on your cheeks? When there’s only darkness and you can’t even see the breath coming out of your mouth? That is what true cold feels like" you answer proudly, ignoring the nagging voice in your head asking you where all this courage comes from

"You are so proud of this unfriendly land that tries to kill you every turn of season"

"Aren't you proud of yours?"

"Mine was destroyed thousands of years ago".

His answer stops you on your track, before your mind realizes: Old Valyria. He's talking about the old country of his ancestors, not New Valyria, the country his forefathers tried to rebuild as soon as they landed on Dragonstone. You've heard stories, children disappearing and new ones, white haired and lilac eyed appearing like changelings, well before Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives launched their attack upon the once free Kingdoms. Even darker whispers of blood magic blossomed when the first reigns started falling under Targaryen dominion, of the vast majority of Valyrian presenting people living in New Valyria all of a sudden. They invaded us well before their dragons did, your grandmother used to say. Will that happen to the North as well?

"If my home is so unfriendly, why bother with conquering us, then?"

"I assume you are well versed in politics enough to know the answer yourself"

"I was told a good lady looks after their husband and his possessions"

"Did that happen before or after your sword lessons? - you are too stunned to answer - whose idea was that?".

You don't owe him an answer, you owe him nothing; his eye is on you, you can see the sincere curiosity there and what harm can derive from him knowing?

"Mother's. Her House was small and proud. She studied the blade in her youth" you add

"Your husband must be proud of having such a strong spouse by his side" there's steel in his words, you don't notice it, too engrossed in your own memories

"He's not".

There's so much you could add, but you prefer to keep the dirty rags for yourself and he has no right to know the truth behind your marriage.

“Then he is an idiot”.

You whip your head around at his stern words, only noticing now how close he’s moved, so close you can see his eye gleaming in the dark, the flames of rage burning there. You shouldn’t stare and wonder why he’s so incensed, why does he care so much, shut up! Shut up! your mind screams, don’t say a word, don’t ask a question you are not ready to receive an answer for! But you have always been too curious for your own sake, not having your husband around makes you feel free and bold as you were before your marriage.

“Why does it bother you so? My lord husband knows what’s best”

“Your lord husband doesn’t know a single thing” his words come out low like a growl

“And you do better?”

“I know I would spar with you every day, make sure you are fit to protect what’s mine”

“Shouldn’t your guards do so? Shouldn’t the men loyal to you protect what belongs to you?”

“Loyalty can be bought”.

He’s closer now, he’s invaded your space, one hand firmly planted between your feet, his weight carried by his knees, his hair brushing lightly against the skirt of your dress.

“Studying the blade can save your life” he finishes.

You both know how crucial this moment is, the deepest, darker part of your two minds see the crossroad in front of you two. Left or right? Right or wrong? Life or death? The foreign pull between you two is unmistakable now. He makes the decision for you two, for the first time in his life he truly wants this, needs the touch of another, one hand holding your cheek lightly, his lips chaste on yours as you fall back on the soft fur, taking him with you. Delicately you open your mouth for his tongue, your own peaking out to taste him, your hands burrowing in his silky mane as he slots himself between your legs, mouth more aggressive now, tongue invading to play with yours. You can feel him ground his hips against yours, you imagine his cock growing harder against the cold of his leathers, the idea spurring you on, one leg hooking around his hips to follow his movements, wetness leaking obscenely from your cunt.

He separates your lips, but he doesn’t move, his hair curtaining you two, his weight on his hands planted at the sides of your face.

“Please, be gentle,” you say breathlessly.

He stares at you for a moment, weighting your features.

“If you tell me to stop, I will. You will still be under my protection, that will never change”.

You grab one of the metal clippings of his leather tunic, your fingers curling around it to pull him down on yourself.

“I said, please be gentle with me” it comes out more stern this time, your own desire making you feel bolder than you ever did.

You can feel Aemond shudder over you, his right hand grasping the knots keeping your dress together, deft fingers pulling at the strings to reveal your hidden body.

“I will” he says, your name on his lips like a prayer.

His lips are on yours again, tongue searching yours as your fingers open the metal clippings, almost ripping them off in the effort to open them; his hands are not idle, the knots coming apart to reveal the roundness of your breasts and the softness of your skin. The latchings of his shirt are not as lucky as the clippings were, as you rip the cotton apart to reveal his milky skin, your fingers scratching down his firm abs to open his breeches as he throws the tunic away. Regretfully he has to separate your lips again to remove your dress, his mouth latching on your nipples, sucking eagerly while your back arches towards him, your naked core sliding against his manhood, the obscene amount of come leaking from his tip making everything slippery, his hips jackhammering against yours in desperation, moans spilling from your lips every time his tip brushes against your engorged clitoris. You have never felt desire like this, burning your loins and growing in your belly, fingers scratching down his sweaty back to keep him as close to you as humanly possible, legs curling around his trim waist, heels digging against his tailbone; you need him inside of you. For the first time, your body desires to be breached open and owned by your partner, your need spilling from your mouth in the form of prayers, prayers he fulfills willingly, fingers of his right hand entering your slippery cunt, scissoring you open with ease. He moans when he feels how wet and ready you are for him, his cock straining painfully to enter you.

“Please Aemond! - you beg, tears of frustration falling from your eyes, your cunt clenching around his strong fingers - please, now!”

He grabs his cock hastily, spreading your wetness on the taut skin before breaching you slowly, forcing himself to be gentle as your warmth envelops him, your muscles sucking him in and he has to stop when he bottoms out, he has to breathe or he’ll snap and fuck you like an animal. He plants his hands by your shoulders, his head hanging low as he gulps down air greedily, the roar of the blood in his ears deafening, the pain of your fingers grasping his ass his only tether against madness.

You feel so full, his cock scorching your insides with every slow push and pull of his hips against yours, it shouldn’t be possible for your body to accept his impressive manhood, but it does and you feel each movement in your belly, your hips following his without your control, muscles contracting until all he can do is grinding against you, short and fast movements as gasps of pleasure spill from his mouth, mixed with words of praise for your cunt. He knows his orgasm is approaching too fast without his control, he can’t reign himself in, he needs to come with you, wants to experience your pleasure first. His fingers on your clit move with brutal efficiency, your body curling around his as you spasm and beg, until you come, taking him with you, his orgasm almost painful in his brutality, ropes and ropes of come staining you walls, until it’s too much and he has to slip out, his body falling upon yours, tears streaming down his cheeks. Gently you turn your entwined bodies to the side, your hand caresses his scalp while you murmur sweet nothings, his face cradled against the hollow of your throat; his hands grapple at the skin of your back desperately, as if he’s drowning and you are his lifeline. When he calms down he starts shivering from the cold and you cover the two of you with his cloak, your hand finding refuge again in his hair to massage his scalp once more; you don’t know what to say, your only sexual experiences had been with your husband and you were always the one in tears afterwards.

“I’m sorry - he says when he’s ready to face you again, his face still at level with your cleavage - all of this should have never happen”

“I’m not - you can see the surprise in his eye - I might die tomorrow in this war, at least I know what gentleness feels like.”.

You know he doesn’t understand, how can he? You are not going to elaborate, the shame of your marriage is yours alone to shoulder and you don’t want to stain this rare moment of peace with your husband’s actions.

Aemond tries to feel bad about this, tries to feel chagrin for having followed his instincts again, and nothing comes up: no pain, no humiliation, just peace and a sense of fulfillment he’s never experienced after sex. Why does it have to be you, the prisoner he will have to send back to their rightful husband, that makes him feel this way? Why are the Gods so cruel? Is this the price he has to pay for being a kinslayer? Having a sliver of peace and seeing it fade away? He cradles your face against his chest, he is not willing to let you go, not yet.

Later, Aemond cleans the mess between your legs with his destroyed shirt, gentle movements against your still sensitive lips, until no evidence of your coupling remains, but the throbbing you still feel. With care he helps you wear your dress and knots the strings keeping it together. He is surprised when you clean him up, cheeks aflame while murmuring that you don't have to; you don't even answer him, you just say how sorry you are for having destroyed his shirt.

The walk back to the castle is silent, broken only by Vhagar’s and Sunfyre's snores. The guards at the small door don't say a word, again they make space between your cloaked body and theirs, as if you are poisonous. Once you are back to your cell, curiosity wins.

"Why were those men afraid of touching me? Last time everyone wanted a piece of my skin".

Aemond uhms as he considers his words. He is proud of what he did but he doesn't want to scare you away with savagery; how little he knows the North and its inhabitants!

"The man who attacked you was punished, his right hand removed. If anyone tries to hurt you again, they'll lose both hands. If a third tries, then it's their hands and one foot. You can imagine what happens to the fourth man".

He doesn't know what to expect from you, surely not your appreciative words of praise and your pupils enlarging again, desire burning there like a summertime fire, surprising him with its intensity, his cock starting to stir, just in case.

"I bid you goodnight, Daughter of the North" he says bowing with a hand on his heart

"Aemond, wait!" you say walking towards him.

He stops, his eye watching you like a hawk when you raise a hand to his hair. He doesn't stop your movements as you push your fingers in his mane.

"There! - you say waiving a piece of grass in front of his face - you had it in your hair"

"Thank you, Daughter of the North" he answers, voice soft and hoarse.

Only when he is back to his chambers, he realizes you haven't used his title. Down in your cell, you don’t even notice what you just did.

Later, doubts and fears attack you, unsure of what to expect now, where you stand with Aemond.

Laying with him had been inevitable, the pull between you two too strong to fight; had it changed everything, though? You have little to no hopes of safety if you make it back home, moreover after your infidelity; as much of a brutal monster your husband is, at least you know what to expect with him, but with Aemond? His gentleness could be pure manipulation, but his tears seemed real, his sorrow true. Would his conscience bite him tomorrow, would he treat you worse, just to cancel what he did?

You toss and turn, uncomfortable on your cot, tired from the lovemaking and wired up by the uncertainty that’s Aemond Targaryen. You know how men think, you know that your body is nothing more than another battlefield, you know that most men stop respecting the person they desire, the moment they lie with them; is Aemond Targaryen like this? Will you be easy prey for every man, now that he’s had his piece of you?

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist: @phantoms-main-blog

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #the winner takes it all

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raynavan · 10 months

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it is finally here!! the winners of the @ultimate-submas-tournament first round!! this is. verrry long as I have a bit of (lighthearted!!) commentary on the winners. said commentary is not meant to be offensive, but i just poke fun at the Au's in the running. of course- i highly suggest checking some of them out! all the polls (and therefore the au's in that poll) are linked in the first word of the message beow it. and with that, doodles under the cut.

the Ingo Bracket!

behold the subway boss Ingo! taking down statues! ah... but aren't gargoyles supposed to ward off evil spirits..?

eh, im sure it fine! nothing quite like an never ending cycle ammirite?

dad instincts activated. it was super effective (thank goodness another ghost was there, its pretty hard to punch them) ((though ah... perhaps a bad idea to beat up your dead self..?))

The Actual hero of courage!! purging the land of all poison! even his alternate's poison!!

man actively bleeding out beats up fox man, more at 11.

T-posing (the "T" stands for table) ((joke was made by @/thesilverinfinity thank you!!))

fire beats electricity!! villains for the win!!!

a... fae. a fairy type. destroyed by a... prince that commands (used to command) a dragon... perhaps there is a reason fae Ingo hides in the human world...

who was going to tell him that LTOT ingo isn't even a pokemon technically

bro respawn already you leaks are leaking everywhere- at least the Woodsman can continue his never ending task of gathering oil!

oh right... kid kinda... had the favor of a few gods... good luck ingo!

oh uh... i suppose even lord zoroark isn't immune to pets... (hope warden Akari doesn't find out-)

ooh... probably should have checked you type advantages buddy... at least wormgo knows we all love him even if he's a worm <3

The Emmet Bracket!

the power of sweaters

one might be the eye avatar after looking for answers, the true detective turned out on top!

tfw your just a train conductor in the far past with trauma (and brain trauma) and you get beaten up by another you that is friends with a god.

GET 'EM WITH THE LASER EYES (that you definitely have) (hope grovyle doesn't find you)

beach vacation in the past beats present Unova any day. (unless the Pelipper are looking for a snack)

jellyfish stings!! not even Gift's wonderful cosplay of his bother as enough to avoid the beast's wrath... no respect for cosplayers these days...

even though normally Ingo is the one to deal with unruly passengers, it easy to forget that robot Emmet has tasers for hands... o7 host emmet.

mans under the effects of CST (Chad stasis Twin effect) he is currently unbeatable.

wow the plushy has some power! uh... what do you have there Emmie..? why are you... looking at me like that...

air tight suites will not protect you from toons. take note. (though im sure he'd be pretty helpful with those hoards of monsters!)

congratulations! don't worry about the blurry Emmet, im sure he wasn't protecting anyone or anything, haha!

good job Emmet! you beat someone in a hospital bed! /lh

that's the last of it (no i am Not doing bracket 13 i Cannot draw them all differently hgeirpohgnolp) wonderful job everyone! i definitely heard of some new Au's that i have greatly enjoyed! im verrry excited to see where this competition continues!

bravo to everyone moving on to the next round, and for all those who didn't, thank you for sharing your Aus!! here's to another fun round, and also to the amazing aus and stories everyone here has created!!

SUPER BRAVO!!

#submas #submas au #ingo #emmet #i did it #ray's art #i think everyone (including me) kinda forgot this tag but #ultimate Submas tournament art #warning this is a long post

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sassy-cissa · 3 months

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WIP Snip

Thanks to @maesterchill for tagging me. I love being tagged and reading people's snippets. ❤️

This was supposed to be for a few different things, but now it's just because I'm having fun with it. It's post war and (like Em's) Pansy is missing. But trust me that's where the similarities end.

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Draco huffed and walked over to the next door, prepared to barge in. He came up short when the name on the door read James Prince and under that was Private Investigations. He paused, his hand hovering over the door knob, and stared at the name. "James Prince? What the hell?" he muttered under his breath. His heart sank, feeling as if his only hope had vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind. He stood, frozen to the spot, contemplating his next move when he heard what sounded like a herd of Hippogriffs thundering up the stairs. Draco turned as the sound drew closer to the top of the stairs. His hand dropped to his side as none other than Harry Potter himself froze at the top. A large black dog, however, bounded over to Draco and began to sniff at his leg. Harry seemed to regain his composure and he walked past Draco and unlocked the office door of James Prince. "Do you work for Prince?" Draco asked. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Draco paused, realising he was going to have to talk to Potter if he wanted to see this detective person. "I'm in need of a detective," Draco replied. He was trying to remain calm, but the reality of never seeing Pansy again was pushing its way into his head again. He tapped down the shiver that wanted to race through him. Harry and the mangy looking dog walked through the office door, Draco right on his heels. He blinked at Draco when he went to pull the door closed and found he wasn't alone in his office. The dog trotted over to a bed under the single window and flopped down onto it. Draco looked around the sparsely furnished room. A desk sat facing the door on the opposite wall, although Draco wondered how anyone could function with all the pads and scraps of paper, folders and biros scattered across the top of it. The wall to the right of the desk had a row of filing cabinets with more papers and books scattered on the top. And on the wall to the left of the desk there was a small seating area consisting of a black leather couch and two chairs that faced it, with a small table in between. Draco looked around the room in confusion. "Small place. Where does Mr Prince sit when you're both here?" Harry tilted his head. "Where does Mr…, oh." He smirked and walked to the desk and sat. "Here. And there is no both. Just me." "But the door says James Prince," Draco replied, not understanding. Harry sighed. "Seriously, Malfoy? It's a pseudonym. You expect me to put my own name on the door? You've surely heard of the term." Draco glared. "Of course I'm familiar with the term. Although I'm surprised you are. But that aside, I get James. Obviously from your father. But Prince?" "I was counting on that one being confusing. Good to see I was right." Draco waited for Harry to continue. When he didn't, Draco walked over and sat down on the opposite side of the desk from Harry. "Fine, I don't have time for your little games. I need a detective," he said firmly.

The dog raised his head and looked at Draco with more interest than Draco felt was necessary. A moment later, the dog had moved to his side and was sniffing at Draco as if he had a bone in his pocket. Suddenly his cold nose hit the skin just above Draco's sock. "What the fuck!" Draco blurted out. "Keep your mangy beast away from me. He was about to bite into my leg." Harry laughed. "He's just checking you out. Making sure you're not going to hurt me." Harry snapped his fingers. "Over here Sherlock," he said, calling to the dog. "Sherlock?" Draco said incredulously. "You named your dog Sherlock? Looks more like a Nosy Parker to me." Sherlock sat down, resting his head on Harry's leg. "I don't care what you think my dog's name should be, Malfoy. You've overstayed your little visit. Time for you to move along." Draco threw his hands up in the air. "Have you not been listening to me? I've said I need to hire a detective. It might as well be you." "Sorry, I don't do wizards," Harry immediately replied. Blinking several times, Draco raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise that offer was on the table, but it will have to wait. I simply want to hire you to find someone." Harry's cheeks had flushed a bright pink and Draco was surprised to find he found the look attractive. "I meant," Harry stammered, "I only take on Muggle clientele." "Right," Draco deadpanned. "As I said, I need to hire you." Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Was there a part of the sentence I only take on Muggle clientele you didn't understand? Do I need to use smaller words?"

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I never know who to tag, so if you're reading consider yourself tagged

#wip snip #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter

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