#I could’ve taken more but i didn’t want to be a pig | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hopefulidiocy · 1 month ago

Note

Can I request an Aemond reader love triangle fic? Love me some jealous Aemond

Killing me so good

Prince!Aemond x Fem!Y/N x O/C!Milo Cole

Warnings: death, sword fighting, arguing

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“You have two choices,” you said, swinging your sword in your strong wrist, “you can either walk away unscathed, or leave blind.” You grinned at the One Eyed man in front of you, who narrowed his comically one eye at the mention of his one good eye. You relished in the moment of seeing the man you hated try to hold in his anger, pursing his lips and trying to come across as if he found your words funny.

“I am two years your senior, y/n. You truly think you can beat me?” He laughed and whilst caught unguarded, you went for him, slicing your sword towards his side but he managed to dodge it; jumping back into a semi-squat with his sword strongly held in front of him. He attacked you, jabbing his sword towards your throat but you threw yourself into your back, your free hand breaking the fall. He lost his balance and fell into you, you positioned your sword towards his neck, smiling.

“What a weird position we’re in, One Eye.” You laughed and that got the emotion you wanted, he yanked you back to your feet and began swinging the sword so fast you could barely see when it sliced through your thigh. The pain pierced down your leg as you clutched at it, dropping your sword, Aemond didn’t care though; he picked up your sword, both hands clasping the handles and placing his knee down onto your pelvic bone.

“And that’s why, I am the better swordsman.” He chuckled darkly, throwing your sword towards the edge of the fight square and taking off with his powerful strides.

Down in the depths of the Red Keep where you and your family stayed, your mother bent over your leg with a needle and thread, tutting and making comments about your outrageous behaviour. She had given you a rag to bite down on, there was never any antidote for your cuts and bruises, your mother thought it would be useless since then you wouldn’t learn your lesson.

“I can’t believe you fought him again.” She sighed, piercing through your skin with the needle, your scream completely muffled by the rag.

“Mother, he’s a little bitch. He needs to be taken down a peg or two.” You said, at the end of your sentence your mother jabbed you again which had you tearing down the walls with that guttural scream of yours.

“Y/N I wish you would stop with your hero nonsense. You’re here to work, not fight.” She patched up the gash, patting it for extra measure before rising on her bony knees.

“Ser Criston said I could be a promising fighter.” You turned so your back was against the pillows of the sofa, tucking in warmly.

“Yes, but you’re a woman. You need to find a husband and quickly, you’re aging,” She packed away her medical supplies, “come on, we should go up.”

The Targaryen’s had banquets almost every evening, with every Targaryen present and the walls would stink of grease and meat for days to come and you had the pleasure of serving their meals to them. You were never excited for it, more so because you had to see Aemond who was never welcoming and always made a comment on your attire. Sure, you didn’t look attractive in your potato sack dress and white rags covering your black hair but still it didn’t mean he had to be rude, did it? The first serving was one of a roasted pig, it made you chuckle knowing this could’ve been Aemond’s first “dragon” and you knew, just to piss him off, was to put it in front of him. He always sat next to his sister Helaena, who he was devoted to, and you had to give it to him; that man was loyal to those he deemed worthy of his affection. You walked in onto booming laughter from the King and Daemon, you set the plate in front of him, giving him a small smirk before jetting off to grab the other plates of food. When you came back, the head was ripped off the pig and onto Aemond’s own plate, he was picking at it when you walked into his vision, he snarled at you as you set down the fruits and took your place behind the table.

“Servant,” he beckoned you over, you forced the eye roll back into your head as you curtsied before him, “wine.” He clicked his fingers rudely so you picked up the heavy jug of wine, pouring it into his empty cup. He sipped at it thoughtfully before purposefully tipping it onto the front of your dress, you gasped and jumped back, eyes of fire towards Aemond as he feigned innocence.

“Apologies, my Lady.” He smirked, pulling the jug of wine and pouring HIMSELF a cup of wine.

After storming out of the hall, you stood in your undergarments as your sister scrubbed the living hell out of the dress, the red wine wasn’t clearing and you were planning your revenge on Aemond. Perhaps you could take his eye patch? No that was way too nice. You would think after a nice long sleep.

“I hate him, Raven. I really do.” You spat, tucking your hands under your armpits, trying to keep warm as the cold stone blew air into the coldest parts of your body.

“Hate is the wrong way to live. Just forgive. He is the Prince after all.” She sighed, giving up on the dress and stretching her back. Pregnant with her fifth child, Raven was the epitome of forgiveness since her husband has probably fathered more than fifteen children in the Red Keep but still she stuck beside him, because that was what women did. You hated that concept, you just wanted to be on the battlefield.

You struck the sand man in the heart with the pristine point of your sword under the sweltering sun, watching as the sand poured out of it and collecting at the bottom of your feet. You sighed, not feeling any satisfaction unless that sand was actually Aemond’s blood.

“Well, well, well,” there came that deep voice, “y/n.” He called, you turned around, cupping your hand above your eyes to block the sun to see Milo Cole, Criston’s son, his smile was frankly dazzling; his teeth white and almost glowing in the sunlight; his dark hair falling over his eyes like the growing man he was; his lips slightly pouting as he watched you, completely agape like you always had been around him. Your first crush. Quite possibly your first love. But he never knew that.

“Milo.” You breathed, suddenly aware of your youthful voice. He smiled, that beautiful smile that knocked the air out of your lungs. His body was firm and lean, you could see the outline of his stomach even in his armour, and it caused your head to swirl.

“Hey,” he swallowed, “duel?” He offered his hand to you, it wasn’t covered with his usual metal plate and instead it was his large hand, it could probably wrap around your entire head. His fingers covered yours as he strode towards the fighting square, the sun wasn’t doing you any favours as a bead of sweat dripped down your temple, perhaps you were so nervous in Milo’s presence that it literally made you sweat.

Both of you prepared your first attack, unlike with Aemond, Milo made it fun and always had. He took the first jab, pointing his sword at his stomach as you swiped his feet from underneath him, turning until the sword was at his neck; he smiled brightly before throwing you onto your back, pretending to slice your throat before helping you back onto your feet and redoing the choreography before someones presence came to the edge of the square.

“You’ll get nowhere with her,” Aemond could not sound more bored in his life, his eye was completely dead as he watched Milo help you up for the second time, “she’s a hopeless case.” You rolled your eyes, sheathing your sword, Milo ruffled your hair sportily before scoffing at Aemond’s words. The two boys had been at each other’s throats from the moment you met them, Milo was certainly more tolerable than any man you had met whilst at your time at the Red Keep and he definitely was your only friend; the girls tend to keep away from you, it upset you at first, feeling shunned from girlhood like you weren’t enough for their precious conversations and gossip. So you mainly kept to yourself, unless you were fighting.

“She’s not that useless,” Milo grinned, you hit his arm playfully.

“Shut up, Milo.” You scowled, noticing after you turned your head that Aemond was looking peculiarly at Milo, his eye narrowed and lips pursed, but you overlooked it because your mother came to call.

“Stop playing your games and help me in the kitchen!” She shouted from across the courtyard, inwardly groaning.

“Duty calls.” You walked off towards your mother, looking over your shoulder just before you reached the entrance to the servants quarters and noticing Aemond and Milo staring at each other, doing nothing but that.

Heat hit your face as you walked into the kitchens, just about dodging the cook who was fretting with his towel, flinging it over his shoulder, over and over again. Your mother in the corner, slaving over a trifle, trying to place raspberries as carefully as she could. Her hands shook as she plopped one down on the mound of trifle that swirled until it reached a sharp point, her tongue sticking towards her upper lip as she concentrated; something she had done since you were a babe. But the shaking had concerned you, admittedly though you had never looked at her hands, she always had a demeanour of calmness; not caution.

“Stop staring and help me,” she scolded. You cleared your throat, placing the raspberries where she commanded before letting her take it in her hands and walking up the stairs to the banquet room where Aemond had just arrived. You took your place behind him, your hands behind your back as you watched ahead of you; completely missing that mother had toppled the trifle onto the pregnant Rhaenyra’s satin dress. Aemond turned his head ever so slightly so you saw his side profile, his eye pointed at you as you suddenly realised that your mother was on her knees, begging for mercy from Rhaenyra; who definitely wasn’t angry. You ran to your mother’s side, embarrassed for her because the entire Royal Family was looking at her as if she was diseased.

“Please, Princess. Give mercy.” Your mother was practically sobbing and you stood behind her, frozen as you watched Rhaenyra struggle to her knees to hold your mother.

“Do not fret, it was an accident,” She soothed, tipping her head so they were looking at each other, “I can get a new dress.” She smiled and then looked up at you.

“Come on, mother,” you grabbed her elbows, hauling her up to her feet as she slumped into your side as you practically dragged her back to your own quarters.

Curled up underneath a feather blanket, you and your sister sat with your mother, who had a crumpled tissue in her hand, clutching it to her mouth.

“How long have you been unwell, mother?” Raven asked, sniffling. She had been crying nonstop after watching mother coughing up blood into a wooden basket.

“I don’t know, my dear.” She said, hacking up once again. The noise pierced through your eyes as you watched your pale mother wither away in front of you, ashamed that you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

A small knock came from the door into your one roomed quarter, you were the first to stand, letting Raven cry over your mother in her own comfortable silence. Behind the door was revealed to be Queen Alicent, who stood gracefully, her hands clasped at her stomach and some kind of expression in her eyes; she was hard to read. You sank into the lowest curtsey possible as she watched over your head.

“Please, don’t get up,” she said kindly to mother after she attempted to get to her feet, “you are unwell, you need to rest.” A small smile appeared then.

“How can we help you, My Queen?” Raven asked, her hand propped onto her rounded belly.

“I came to see how your mother was doing. She has been a servant at this Palace for some time.” She floated in then, crouching by your mother’s side.

“We thank you.” Raven said, shooting you a look for your silence. You couldn’t even try to speak.

“You are with child.” The Queen nodded towards Raven, who smiled.

“Yes, Your Majesty. My fifth.” She stroked her belly, Alicent watching on with some affection.

“I remember when you two girls were infants. So very sweet.” She smiled and hummed, gliding away into thought before standing up and leaving without another word.

Since Raven was to rest, same with your mother, you took up their duties around the castle. Meaning there was no longer any time to duel, which you missed dearly but your mind was so preoccupied with the amount of cleaning the garments of the Royal Family that your mind was basically thoughtless. Clipped shoes came into the room, you wiped the sweat that was beading on your forehead before you could even notice a man stood in front of you.

“Y/N.” It was Aemond, inwardly you groaned, you would snap at any moment and it wouldn’t be unlike you to snap at Aemond.

“What do you want, My Prince?” You asked, focusing on your oily hands scraping at a stain in the Aegon’s shift.

“I came to ask after your mother.” He rested his hands on top of his sword, looking particularly uninterested.

“Since when do you care, Aemond?” You sighed, looking up at him.

“How is your mother?” He ignored your snappiness.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes, trying hard not to let any tears drop because she wasn’t doing fine. In fact she had been doing worse and it was horrific to watch your mother, who had been the epitome of health in your naive eyes, wither away and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Aemond watched you for some time, a couple of beats, before walking away. You were left to your thoughtless mind except one thought stuck… why did Aemond care?

When you arrived after your chores, you pulled off your apron as you watched Raven spoon feed your mother some vegetable soup that you made earlier in the day. Mother was groaning as she craned her neck towards the silver spoon. The air swiftly breezed into the room, like a storm waiting to happen, as your mother collapsed onto the pillow, exhausted from her movements.

“How was she today?” You asked, folding your apron and throwing it onto the wooden chair next to the heath.

“Just as she is any normal day.” Both of you looked as mother wheezed, covering her entire body with the blanket.

“Are you cold, mother?” You questioned and she nodded, you clasped your fingers around the handle and pulled it gently shut.

Raven and you slept soundly next to each other and the next day you had found a small note tucked under the door, whilst half dressed, you opened it and found a note.

I am away on business with my father and heard about your mother. You have my sincerest condolences and sympathy.

Your dear friend,

Milo.

Your heart pattered against your ribcage as you held the letter close to you, it meant a lot for someone to express how they felt; especially someone close to you. You tucked the letter into your apron as you walked into the pantry, grabbing the bread dough and slapping it onto the counter; your fellow servants milling around you. Outside, grunts were floating into the room and you turned around, your neck craning to see Aemond and Aegon fighting each other in the fighting courtyard; your heart dropped ever so slightly, seeing them do something you loved to do and not being able to do it.

Later that night, you were working over your servant dresses when a knock sounded. You pushed away the work, grabbing the door handle and opening it, finding Aemond, without his eyepatch. The bright sapphire took you by surprise, you hadn’t seen it before and you had known him for such a long time; his mouth was straight and almost non existent as he looked at you with strong disinterest.

“Y/N.” He said, his eyepatch in his hand.

“What is it, Prince?” You rested your arm on the door.

“I need you to help me with something.” He said. You were taken aback rather suddenly when he pointed to his eye stitches… they had come undone and whilst you had some experience in patching up wounds, it wasn’t enough to actually help him out. There was a real Physician in the castle so why did he come to you?

“I’m not sure if I can do anything to help you, My Prince.” You sighed, looking over your shoulder at your sleeping mother. Raven had gone to be with her children for the night.

“Just help me, y/n.” He sighed, you stepped to the side to let him in. Like his mother, Aemond floated slightly above ground, his feet didn’t touch the ground. He perched himself on the window seat, his leg hitched up against his opposite knee. You pulled a stool with your mother’s medicine bag and tucked it between your feet. His hair was slightly askew, his normal half up ponytail was flopping over the left side of his head.

“I can’t promise I’m any good at this. These stitches will probably last a day.” You said seriously but a smile quivered on his lips, his breath fanning your cheeks as you reached forward with a needle and thread.

“It’s fine.” He said, you pierced his skin, sucking in the air through your teeth as he winced. The stoic and cold Aemond Targaryen… winced.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you threaded it through to the other side of his scar, his sapphire eye shooting through you. He didn’t respond but his one eye watched you as you got to work with a wonky design, the scar only closing slightly so it was still susceptible to infection. “I’m not too good at this, My Prince. So you should probably visit the Court Physician.” You said lowly as you wiped away the blood with the gauze, then throwing it into a bucket of water, then packing away your medicine.

“I’m sure you did an adequate job,” he cleared his throat, slapping his knees and grunting as he stood up, “thank you.” And with that, you curtsied and watched him leave the chamber. But you couldn’t leave it there, he had visited you randomly and wanted your help, you hated him and he hated you. So you followed him.

“My Prince!” You exclaimed, he stopped abruptly in his journey and turned to face you, his eye narrowing.

“Yes, y/n?” He asked, resting his elbow on the hilt of his sword. The darkness of the corridor suddenly made you nervous, you shuffled slightly under his stare and the darkness. The cold air had you clutching at your elbows as Aemond softly landed one foot in front of the other.

“Why did you come here?” You half whispered, he cocked his head to the side, resting his ear almost onto his shoulder as he pondered for his next response.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You know exactly what I mean.” You folded your arms tightly across your chest.

“I came to ask for help, y/n. It was not a special visit. The Royal Physician is away for the next few days so I came to the next best thing which, admittedly, is your mother but I had to ask you since she is… unwell.” He said, locking his hands behind his back.

“Oh.” You said, a blush rising on your cheeks and you were grateful for the darkness hanging over you. Embarrassed that you even thought about the theory he could be coming to see you and enraged that you even allowed yourself to think that. So when you watched his hair swish as he walked away, you threw your middle finger aggressively at him.

🗡️

The following two nights later, you were observing the banquet where the entire family, including Otto, was attending. You watched as Aemond smouldered at Jace and Helaena dancing, you smiled though because Helaena actually looked like she was having fun for the first time in her life. You were holding a silver plate of wine cups that Daemon kept requesting for so it was simpler for you to stand right next to him; two servants came with a sizzling pig, on a large metal plate and slammed it in front of Aemond. You watched as he surveyed the pig, you looked under your eyelashes as Lucerys who was stifling a laugh. Aemond punched the table hard before standing to his compelling height,

“Final tribute!” He exclaimed, Aegon instantly raised his cup, “to the health of my nephews… Jace, Luke… Joffrey,” he poignantly looked around, “each of them handsome… wise…” the atmosphere completely shifted because everyone could guess what he was going to say next, so you kept your head down, “and strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent warned.

“I dare you to say that again!” Jace, being skinny, had to make his voice sound rounder as he squared up to Aemond.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourselves strong?” Aemond marched towards Jace, who was a good two heads shorter than him. Jace swung his arm back and smacked Aemond in the cheek, but he hardly moved, his face quickly turned before he snapped back and pushed him onto the ground; laughing and walking away, his eye brushing over everyone as he did, even your face, making you look down.

Daemon had managed to split them apart, Rhaenyra’s children fleeing quickly before Aemond followed, floating out of the door. It was also your time to leave, so you clutched onto the tray and made your way towards the kitchens, shoving them on the counter before downing a cup of wine, suddenly stressed from everything that had just gone on. And the fact your mother was at deaths door.

🗡️

The next night, your life changed forever. Possibly for the worst as you sat at your mother’s bedside, Raven in a sobbing heap next to your feet as you watched, detached from everything, your mother taking her last breaths. A woman who had a full head of red hair just a few weeks ago, with rosy cheeks and plump red lips; now mostly bald, except for a few strands; her skin pasty like it had been painted with white paint and her lips bloody and bruised from picking at them with her little energy. You held onto her clasped hands as she rasped, her throat closing in around her and her eyelids fluttering shut for the rest of time. Your heart stilled as you watched her face set, tears threatened to spill but you couldn’t let them fall, you could never let them fall as you softly placed her cold hands together on top of her stomach. Raven draped herself over your mother, sobs coming deep within her gut and escaping through her mouth. You had to get away. Your sword, sheathed against the wall, was calling to you so you grabbed it and made way towards the fighting courtyard. The sand men from earlier in the day, some had stab wounds but you didn’t care, all you needed was to ruin something. The heat boiled within your arms as you lifted the sword above your head and dropped it down towards the head of the sand man, cut straight down the middle and you roared as you moved fluidly to slice the stomach and bringing it hard over your head to land an ending shot in his groin. By this time, tears have spilled down your cheeks, your heart stuttering and dropping every two seconds as you inhaled. The world suddenly felt lonely, the silence night air was too loud and you just wanted to hide somewhere, somewhere quiet that didn’t make you want to scream. The sword circled above your head before slicing the first layer of skin off the sand man’s shoulder, you swallowed your saliva and sobbed as you pulled the sword from the sand man. The pain in your arms was absolute bliss, anything to replace the emptiness left in your heart.

“Y/N.” Aemond’s voice wafted through the air, he must’ve been watching you for some time. You didn’t answer him as you roared and penetrated the middle of the dummy with so much power that the point of the sword had come out the other side. A broad hand landed delicately on your elbow and you stopped instantly, your shoulders heaving, snot dribbling down your cupids bow as you looked up to find Aemond’s eye softening.

“What are you doing here?” You wiped your tears, angry at yourself for crying in front of him, even though you had been crying by yourself for a longer time. You decided not to let yourself down by spilling more tears down your cheeks.

“I know about your mother, y/n.” His voice was gentle, or perhaps you were hearing incorrectly.

“How?” You sniffled, looking at your feet.

“I came by, to see you,” you looked up, “don’t ask, but I found her and I knew you’d be here.” You turned your face to the sky, letting the air dry up your tears.

“I didn’t know you cared, My Prince.” You laughed, mockingly.

“You’ve been a friend since I was eight, I’ve always cared.” His voice was sincere and you looked straight at him, your face snapping towards him, his face soft and caring. At that moment, tears began rolling, fast and fat, dropping off your chin. His eye quickly roamed your face, shocked to see you show such emotion, and both of his thumbs came to your face, his finger cupping your cheeks as his thumbs swiped away the beads that were rolling. Normally you would back away, disgusted by his touch, but none of this was normal; Aemond even being soft toned with you was out of the ordinary but this time you relaxed into him, letting yourself have this moment of comfort. You squeezed your eyes shut as Aemond gently stroked your cheeks, watching you intently as your bottom lip sprouted into a pout. Slowly, he folded you into his powerful embrace, placing his hand on your jawline, his fingers splayed over your hair as you tried to muffle your weeps with your clenched hand.

“Let it out, y/n.” He whispered, his other arm snaking around your waist. Your chest broke open then, all the emotions that stayed deep within you came screaming out as you sobbed hard into your hard, not having the strength to feel embarrassed about this moment because this embrace under the moonlight was suddenly intimate. His lips softly grazed the crown on your head as he rocked you from side to side, an odd moment you never saw coming.

“It’s okay, y/n. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He whispered, somehow holding you even closer.

Aemond escorted you back to your bed, tucking you in and leaving a very tiny kiss on your temple before fleeing the room. The next day, your mothers body was taken by the Septor’s ready for a burial, you and Raven had no money so your mother would be resting just outside the city walls, with no headstone but a nice set of flowers that told you where she was so you could pay your respects… or simply talk to her. Even if she couldn’t talk back.

At the edge of the courtyard, where the gates were situated, you watched, sitting next to Aemond in silence as two men on horseback arrived; you squinted, your knee knocking against Aemond’s, and saw him. You saw Milo. The second his feet hit the ground you were rushing towards him, throwing yourself at him, your legs around his waist as he twirled you around, laughing heartily.

“Milo!” You shrieked, eyes filling with tears at the sight of your friend. You needed to see him after such a horrible time in your life.

“I came as soon as I heard,” he tucked your hair behind your ear, rubbing the back of your ear as he spoke, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, Milo. I am. She��s past her pain… but I miss her, I miss her more than anything.” Tears threatened to fall, but you sucked them back in as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He tucked his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, humming as he squeezed you closer and closer to him. His musk of something wooden and ale-like instantly silenced your heart, you let yourself sink into his strong arms, suddenly feeling sad, that overwhelming sadness that comes in waves when his fingers softly stroked between your shoulder blades; you smiled, shyly, pulling away and rubbing your eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Milo,” you smiled, taking in his smooth, sweet smile that always relaxed you, “thank you.”

“I have a break, shall we get something to eat?” He asked, his teeth twinkling under the sunlight. You nodded, tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow, smiling amicably at Aemond as he balanced his sword on his knees, wiping it clean.

You and Milo sat opposite each other, scraping the bowls of your food, just enjoying each other’s company. He spoke of his days at battle, his meetings and people he met and the way his eyes sparkled when talking about his endeavours made the aching in your heart die down for just a moment.

🗡️

Later that night, you took your place in the banquet hall behind Aemond, watching over the family as they ate quietly, the first time they ate since Aemond’s fight with Jace. Everything was silent as they slurped and chewed on their food, their mouth sounds filling the empty table. Aemond turned his head, flicking his index finger over to you; you dipped a curtsey and walked to him with the wine jug, as you tipped the red liquid into his small cup you noticed how his eye was fixed solely on you, making you nervous. At the same time as you pulled up the jug, he pulled up the cup to his lips, making your knuckles gently brushing; you swallowed the sand that suddenly appeared in your throat as you backed away, back to your spot. You watched as Aemond sipped and ate silently before being the first to leave the table, much to his fathers dismay, as he turned to walk off; his gaze was on you, only for a short moment, before his head turned towards the door, disappearing.

You came back to empty quarters, the bed your mother died in was still just as messy as it was when she had left the earth. You couldn’t find the strength to sleep in there not when your mum died there and the memories that lingered of you tucking your head under her chin as her breathing slowed you into a deep, happy slumber. You pulled off your apron, pulling the rags that kept your hair up and pressing your palms onto the circular table that sat in the middle of the room, your arms straining from the pressure you were applying; soft tears falling from your eyes.

The night air was beckoning you outside, so you wiped your nose, pulling a warm robe around your body and making your way, just for a short walk around the grounds; no sword fighting today. A swish, a few grunts and delicate footsteps bounced off the walls of the courtyard, when you turned the corner from the hallway entrance to the outside, you saw Aemond. His slender body twirling and slicing into the dummy man, grunts escaping his mouth and for a moment you watched his graceful moves; how every calculated movement made your heart slightly twist and how his hair was swishing with the breeze. The pebbles crunched under your feet which made his halt, mid action and slowly turn around. He pressed the point of his sword into the pebbles, his eye grazing over your full body.

“Y/N, you’re awake,” his voice was dry, like he couldn’t be bothered which was a complete contrast to a few nights ago when he held you in this very courtyard.

“It seems to be that way,” you sighed, pulling the robe tighter around your body as the night chill sneaked underneath your clothing.

“Can’t sleep?” You shook your head, “neither can I.” He looked at his feet, a very very small smile apparent on his lips. A moment of awkwardness fell over you when Aemond sheathed his sword, walking towards you, your breathing hitching as he stopped just three stone throws away from you.

“You’re barefoot,” he stated, looking at your feet.

“I am, I needed to walk,” you sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. He cocked his head, pouring his lips in thought before he swiftly picked you up; your legs dangling over his arms, your arms around his neck, “Aemond-“

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep walking around barefoot, y/n,” he was slightly amused by it, “we can’t have that, can we?” He turned his face towards yours, a full smile on his face which almost made you cower in submission. You had to focus on your breathing, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Suddenly, you were intensely aware of his strong hands cradling you like you were a child, somehow feeling secured in his arms as the warmth of the castle enveloped you. He hoisted you up with his knee as you started slipping just before you entered your quarters, he noticed the way your eyes glistened at the sight of your mother’s death bed. Without a word, he set you down on top of the table before bending to his knees, brushing the pebbles stuck into your feet with his hands… that were surprisingly soft. The moment was done in complete silence as he softly removed everything in your feet, as his hands grazed your calloused skin… such a contrast compared to his creamy hands that made your heart thump against your chest. He exhaled through his nose as he looked up at you, his eye twinkling in the orange candlelight, his arm reaching up and softly grazing his curled index finger down your cheek. Instinctively, you leaned into the touch, sighing contently with this gentle moment between the two of you.

“Are you just going to stare at me, y/n?” He asked, his voice a whisper, you snapped back into reality.

“You’re not saying anything,” you whispered back, finding the moment to bring forth your hand and tuck his white hair behind his ear. It was a brave move, his eye widened slightly before he stood to his full length; you examined every detail of him, from his straight nose to his puckered lips, things you hadn’t noticed before. He cleared his throat, grunting as he stood to his entire length, watching you carefully before placing a light kiss on your forehead, sending ignited flames through your skin. Then he left, leaving you awakened.

🗡️

The kitchen was bustling with trepidation as they prepared the feasts and the hand crushed wine for the Masquerade Ball that was taking place tonight. The sky had turned a dark purple when guests began walking into the hall with their big hooped dresses and magnificent masks, you watched each pretty lady walk passed you, grabbing a cup of wine you were holding on a tray with tired arms, they never looked at you or said a simple thank you, instead they ignored your existence completely. Aemond stood with his family, a gold mask apparent on his face where his sapphire eye shone through the small holes fitted for his eyes, he watched carefully as every lady being thrown at him by his mother who was eager to get him a marriage match. Milo came up to you with a crimson red mask covering half his face, taking a cup and standing closely beside you,

“Shouldn’t you enjoy the night, Milo?” You asked, turning to him,

“Extravagance like this makes me feel a bit sick,” he gulped the wine in one,

“Why?” You asked, being able to be a part of the dancing and the sheer richness of this society was something you dreamed of before you fell asleep,

“It’s just weird to me, so many people dying and here we are having fun and warm beds for nighttime,” he chuckled darkly, making you smirk as well because his laugh was something that was incredibly unique to him, it was a mixture between a guffaw and a chortle. You looked ahead of you to see Aemond watching you carefully, his lips pursed as Milo whispered something incoherent to you but to make it less awkward you just laughed heartily and he genuinely looked proud of himself, but Aemond was quick to flex his hands before looking away. The group began to part, creating an aisle for the Starks who sauntered through with an air of arrogance, especially the daughter Nora Stark, who had her head held up so far it was a wonder she could see. It was obvious he was going to be dancing with her as a smile danced on his lips when his eyes wandered down to her cleavage. You looked away, swallowing the sand that had whipped up inside your throat as he took her hand, dipping a small kiss on her knuckles. For some reason, the deep groaning within your gut had you blinking tears away and then the music began which almost made you break. So you made some stupid excuse to Milo and stormed out of the hall, violently wiping tears away as they trailed down your cheeks, pulling harshly at the rags in your hair a complete juxtaposition to the beauty of Nora’s hair that was perfectly wound in a braid atop her head. Someone you could never be. You grabbed your sword, not caring about your servants clothing and swishing the sword, cutting through the freezing air, surprised you had so much swiftness despite the aching in your limbs.

“Y/n,” Aemond had called you, from afar you could hear his footsteps crunching under him but you ignored him, hitting the sand dummy over and over again but never relaxing or relieving yourself.

“Y/N!” He called you louder and you stopped, crashing you sword to the ground and turning around to Aemond with no mask or eye patch,

“What do you want?” You crossed your arms,

“I saw you leave,” he said, his voice softer, “why did you go?”

“Because I hate being surrounded by rich people laughing in the poor’s faces,” you shouted, even though you were simply just jealous of him dancing with Nora, “and how beautiful all those girls looked and how so simple I am,” tears threatened to spill again when he stepped forward slightly,

“It means nothing,” he whispered,

“No but it does. It does. You and all your family have these riches, laughing and eating to your hearts desire when I have to suffer my mother’s death in silence!” Your screech struck the air then, silencing even the birds,

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know that,” he exclaimed, stepping quickly towards you and taking your elbows in his hands,

“I do. Raven has her own family and I have no one to share my grief with,” you yanked yourself away from him,

“You have me, y/n. Don’t you know that?” He called, itching to get closer to you,

“No, because you’re going to get married someday soon and you’re going to forget you ever spoke to me,” tears quickly escaped your eyes, dropping onto the pebbles below,

“That’s not true,” he whispered, his eye narrowing and creating a glistening film over them, “it’s not true, y/n.”

“I hate you and your perfect family,” you spat venomous, despite not believing a word coming out of your mouth, you needed some relief from this moment. He stepped back, hurt and upset,

“You mean that?” He swallowed,

“Yes, Aemond, I fucking believe it!” You shouted and he simply shook his head, a cruel smile on his face and quickly made his way back inside, leaving you and the moon alone to cry.

🗡️

Two months passed slowly, you had almost nothing and everything to do. Everything you did was in the kitchen or serving at the banquet table during supper times, watching Aemond and his giggly new bride Nora fawning over each other at the table, you had to change your station, staying behind Princess Rhaenyra instead so you didn’t have to see full frontal Aemond and Nora fuck each other. Nothing you did was to do with anything that interested you, there was nothing fulfilling during your day and you had given up sword fighting, dumbing your days down to simply watching Aemond and Milo go at each other during your breaks. If truth be told, you missed Aemond, you missed bantering with him and enjoying his time simultaneously and it hurt so deeply to see him and Nora arm in arm all day every day. Nothing would make that pain disappear.

During supper time, you watched as Aemond kept stealing glances at you, his eye slightly misty every time you ignored him, but Nora kept distracting him with her perfect cleavage. He beckoned you over with the jug of wine, his fingers grazing your hand so bait that you were scared for people around the table to see. But no one did, all involved in their own conversations.

“You should come back for sword fighting,” he whispered and covering it up with a throat clearing. You moved away, your skin prickling with anticipation but you knew you couldn’t do that, you couldn’t go back to it knowing how you still felt about Aemond.

Later that day, after your job, you journeyed to the edge of the Red Keep to visit your mother, her grave barren since Raven didn’t visit often. The row of flowers gave way to the peasant cemetery, your eyes settled on a stone, clear and new. A headstone, too expensive for either you or Raven to buy, lay erect. You laid flowers, roses on her grave, as you watched the stone stand there undisturbed, you walked away after saying your prayers and letting your mind spin. It was probably Milo.

🗡️

As you were settled in your bed, a knock came, you groaned inwardly as you were finally warm, you opened the door to find Aemond standing there, his leather outfit clad and stretched across his firm body.

“What do you want?” You sighed, not able to look him in the eye,

“Did you like the headstone?” Your head shot up,

“That was you?” You questioned, “thank you.” You whispered, looking at your feet,

“I’ve missed you, y/n. I’ve really missed you.” He admitted,

“It doesn’t seem to be that way, you’re engaged to be wed,” you chuckled, shaking your head,

“Not anymore. I sent Nora packing this evening,” he stated, “I couldn’t marry when…” he trailed off, sniffing slightly,

“When what, Aemond?” Your heart pitched up, your ears suddenly in tune to everything that was happening,

“When I’m actually in love with you.” You stepped back, unable to stand still after such a declaration, you walked towards your window, catching your breath as Aemond came in close behind you, his hands touching your elbows,

“You can’t be, I’m a servant,” you whispered, turning around to see him stood so close to you, he tucked your hair behind your ear and you shuddered,

“I love you, y/n. I always have.” He whispered, his breath fanning your face before he leaned in to kiss you. It was so soft and light that he had you melting into him, as if you were one being, your hands splayed on his chest.

“You can’t,” you whispered, touching your swollen lips as his hands cradled your cheeks,

“I can and I do,” he said, “I��ll speak to my mother about it, I can make this work but I can’t carry on my life without you by my side,” he caressed your cheek softly and besides yourself you sank into his delicate hand before standing on your tiptoes to kiss him once more,

“I’ve always loved you Aemond, I even hated you at times,” you laughed, breathy, “I’m sorry about everything I said.”

“I know, y/n, I know,” he kissed you again, “and if I see you with that bastard Milo again, I’ll kill him.” You laughed and punched his shoulder playfully before he tucked you into his arms and kissed you lovingly.

#prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #love triangle #hotd fandom #fanfic #fanfiction

25 notes · View notes

littlemisskookie · 2 years ago

Text

Free Use: Ch 8

Free Use: Index

Ship: Crush!Taehyung | Reader | feat. Jungkook

Description: Childhood Friends/Crush/Neighbors/College!AU. Your long time crush agrees to be your dom.

Warnings: Free Use Kink, Dom/Sub Relationship, Dom Taehyung, Dom Jungkook, Voyeurism/Exhibitionism, Degrading, Dirty Talk, Objectification, Fingering, Ruined Orgasm, Forced Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Pain Kink, Spanking, Slapping, Choking, Cuckholding? Jungkook is very mean and a brat tamer, Y/N gets railed in a janitors closet, i wouldn’t be surprised if i’m forgetting something, this is really vile i’m sorry i’m depraved, ITS ALL CONSENSUAL THO THIS IS HER DREAM AND MINE TOO

Word Count: 4,188

A/N: I think you can tell how horny I was making this.

Surprisingly, Jungkook acts completely normal around you at school, even after he listened to you get railed and witnessed your expressions to your anal virginity being taken. He was so cavalier about it, you wondered for a moment if you had simply had some perverted dream instead. His bunny grin still seems so innocent, doe eyes so pretty. Nothing like the man who degraded you for the obscene acts you enjoyed with Taehyung. The more you'd stare at him absentmindedly, the more convinced you were that they couldn't have possibly been the same person. Jungkook, sweetheart muscle pig, himbo king, best friend of Taehyung?

You must've been too obvious with your gawking during class, however, because you feel someone's breath near your ear as you write. "Keep staring and soon everyone’s gonna know you’re desperate," Jungkook whispers, sending shivers down your spine. You stiffen, turning to look at him with widened eyes, before demurely looking back down at your desk. Jungkook looks amused, blowing cold air on your neck. Goosebumps appear along your skin, which Jungkook takes note of. “I wonder what they’d think if they knew you loved having Taehyung’s dick in your ass.”

You squirm, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to remain composed. Jungkook pushes back some of your hair to see your face, seeming delighted in your flushed complexion. “It’s alright. I can keep a secret.”

He smirks, straightening up to walk back to his seat.

You crossed your legs and tightened your grip on your pen, gnawing on your lip. Taehyung didn't have this class with the two of you. Would he be ok with Jungkook flirting with you without his presence?

You didn't have to worry for long, however, because you're greeted with a text from Taehyung to meet you in the Humanities section. You followed his directions only to end up in a near empty hallway, with nearly nothing around aside from the janitors closets and a few empty professor offices. You double check Taehyung's text before a hand is on your mouth. You're dragged into a tiny utilities closet, being knocked back into a hard chest. The mystery man turns you around, knocking your back against the door, hands grabbing your wrists and pinning you in place.

His mouth meets yours, tongue diving in and having it's way with you. Your eyes fly open, pulling back. "Taehyung?"

He flips the light-switch on beside him, and you're met with the sight of his handsome face in front of yours. "Got it right, baby."

He kisses you again, this time a peck as a reward."Who else would it be?" you question.

"Could've been Jungkook. He told me you were staring at him during Bioethics." Taehyung snickers at it, finding it humorous as he flicks your forehead.

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

"Why're you sorry? Makes sense for you to be staring at him considering what your last interaction was." He notices your shudder, though it didn't seem to be out of fear. "I trust you liked it?"

"I did, but I don't want you to feel jealous-"

"I think you do, though," Taehyung interrupts, closing the already small gap between you, crowding your space. "I still remember how wet you were when we finally fucked. I think you liked seeing me mad."

Your knees buckle, unable to escape as you were met with this confrontation. "Maybe."

"What do you like about it?" His fingertips lightly graze the exposed skin beneath the hem of your skirt, teasing you. His nose traces over the side of your neck, the touch featherlight."Like seeing me fuck my anger out on you? Claiming you as mine?"

"Y-Yeah..." you bashfully admit.

"No need to be ashamed, baby," Taehyung assures you. "I liked it too. I'll use any opportunity to prove you're mine and why. I'm your boyfriend now, right?"

You smile and nod, raising to your tip-toes to kiss him. "Yeah, you are."

"I know you're attracted to Jungkook. It's fine, baby, it doesn't matter. You know who owns you." Taehyung cradles your face in his large hands, his touch so soft and gentle. "Jungkook can fuck you good, I don't mind letting him. I know I can fuck you better."

"Is this leading up to something?"

"Jungkook's getting chewed out by his coach as we speak. He texted me about it. I figured I'd be a good friend and give him something to help with stress relief." One hand disappears, the other having a firm grip on your jaw, holding you in place to look up at him. "You're basically a toy anyways, aren't you?"

"Yes," you say breathily, "you own me."

"Wanna let Jungkook play with you then? I'll be right outside this door and let him take out his anger in fucking you. I know a slut like you'd always desperate for cock." His breath runs over your lips, and your knees buckle beneath you.

"Yes. Wanna please him."

"Mm, what a good toy." Taehyung grins down at you. "Should I text Jungkook to come here now then? Tell him to rail you as I keep watch?"

You nod, leaning your head against Taehyung's chest. He whips out his phone, letting you stare down at his screen as he sends the text. You don't fail to notice his lockscreen was now a picture of you from your Instagram. You smiled, a small wholesome moment before the most unsanctimonious sins would be performed, kept for yourself. You'd have to remember to have Taehyung and you take couple photos once you had time.

"Jungkook's gonna be real happy about his gift," Taehyung says, kissing you softly. "Just say the safeword if you need to and he'll stop. He'll take good care of you."

You wondered how he knew this about Jungkook, but then realized it was likely they had shared women before. Jungkook seemed all too keen on listening in on you, and Taehyung in turn letting him. Taehyung would now be hearing you fucking Jungkook. They seemed to just have that sort of relationship.

"Same for you," you remind him, Taehyung returning your soft smile.

"My girlfriend's so cute," he says, hand pulling at your skirt, bunching up the fabric to expose your pussy. "Jungkook's gonna have fun wrecking you. He's gonna end up addicted."

"Sir, touch me."

"Can't do, baby. Gotta have manners, let Jungkook have his turn. I'll have my turn with you after."

You hear a knock at the door, a unique pattern. Why did it not surprise you that Jungkook and Taehyung had a secret knock? What dorks.

Taehyung opens the door, the space becoming more crowded as Taehyung pulls you against him, your back against his chest. Jungkook stands in front of you, towering over you as you were trapped between them. He grins down at you, the same sadistic smile you were getting used to on Taehyung. It was like a lion that was about to play with its food. "This my gift?"

"Thought you might benefit from a stress toy or something," Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly. His hands rub your arms, keeping you secure. "You seem tense."

It was true. He seemed all puffed up, either with hot air, smoke from how he was fuming inside, or raw energy. It was a kin to a bull before it was released into the ring at a rodeo. "Yeah, I guess I should blow off some steam." His grip slides down to your throat, pulling you closer to him. "Want me to use you, Y/N?"

You nod, trying your best to keep your breathing steady and composed. "Yes, please, want it."

You feel a quick breeze and sting of pain on your cheek, another one quickly following your other cheek. You let out a moan, squirming between the two men as you reach out, grasping onto Jungkook's shirt as your knees buckle. He curses under his breath at your reaction, and soon you're feeling his erection on your hip. "Little painslut. Can't believe this shit turns you on."

Taehyung grins, reaching for the door knob. "I'm gonna go keep watch. Wouldn't want anyone finding you fucking my girlfriend."

He closes the door behind him, and you're left alone with your dear friend, Jungkook. At this moment though he seemed anything like the youngest you had grown up with. He has you step back until your back meets the wall next to the door, close enough for Taehyung to surely be able to hear every dirty word Jungkook called you. He immediately flips your skirt up, making you squeal in response. His hand immediately cups your bare pussy, finding his digits soaked to no one's surprise. "Shit. I swore once when you crossed your legs that I saw your pussy, but I thought I must've been seeing things. You're so gross, Y/N."

"Taehyung asked me not to-"

"Because you gave your underwear to him immediately? Offered him your pussy? Like some kind of street whore? It just screams you were desperate to be fucked." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "God, why couldn't you pick me, huh? I knew you just as long as him. It's so unfair." He whines out the words, fingers thrusting into you, his movements rough and punishing. He finds your g-spot with ease, grinning wickedly as he sees you start to crumble.

"I'm sorry, it was always him," you gasp out, mewling when his thumb started stimulating your clit.

"Mhm, guess I should be happy we're so close then. Either way I'd fuck you. You would've been destined to be shared between me and Tae." He bit his lip, feeling your walls begin to squeeze around his digits, the loud sounds of your wet pussy filling the room. "I knew you'd be so wet for me. Always knew I'd get to fuck you one day. Something about you just screamed slut."

You try to reach down to his erection, only for him to force your head to straighten up again, grip squeezing slightly on your throat. His pace inside you stills as he forces you to make harsh eye contact with him. You reach up to his hand, nails dragging into his forearm as he glared at you. How had it never occurred to you before how hot Jungkook was when he was angry? "Did I say you could touch me? Thought you were supposed to be good. Are you only a good girl for Tae?"

"I'm already so close! This is supposed to be for you."

"I'm a big believer in ladies cum first," Jungkook says, curling his fingers again in reminder, keeping you at that edge. "It's our first time, after all. Don't want you getting a bad impression of me."

"Thought this was stress relief," you shot back.

Jungkook growls out, choking you in that way that made you feel light headed and curling his fingers inside you repeatedly, pounding at your g-spot as his palm ground against your clit. You gasped out, staring back at Jungkook, whose nostrils flared in anger. "You're lucky I like to break brats like you. Go on and cum, since you just want to hurry and get punished so badly. While I'm still feeling nice."

His tongue pokes at his cheek in concentration, and soon your spasming over his fingers. "Ju-" You somehow manage to moan out his name loudly enough for him to have to let go of your throat and cover your mouth. He stared at your expression, your eyes crossing as you orgasmed against his digits. He lets you ride out your high, your thighs glistening now from the mess he made of you. He pulls out his fingers, rubbing your folds, making you cringe in oversensitivity.

"Fucking slut, don't you know you have to be quiet?" Jungkook scolds you. "You want everyone to see you in here getting fucked, huh? Want them to see how wet you get just from being slapped around? Want them to see how wet you get for me?" You're given no time to defend yourself before he's pressing against you, mouth against yours. You realize this is the first time you've kissed Jungkook. His style of kissing you was different from Taehyung. Taehyung is all consuming, dominating you easily. Jungkook's is more coaxing, more soft and playful. It was like he was easing you into a false sense of security before he reminds you what he's about to do. You moan into the kiss, your hands pulling him in as he presses his body against yours. He lifts one of your legs, hooking near his waist to grind against you. You feel the fabric of his uniform slacks against your pussy, moaning into his mouth.

"Can't believe you're letting me treat you like some object," he mumbles against you. "Letting Taehyung pimp you out like this. You're such a whore."

You whimper as he quickly works to undo the buttons on your shirt, revealing your bra. He roughly pulls down the cups of your bra, teeth catching a nipple, giving you harsh treatment. You slap your own hand over your mouth, trying to keep your moans down as best you can. Jungkook lets go of you, showing a sadistic grin. "Stupid girl learned something for once, huh?"

You twist your face into a scowl, immediately wanting to bite back. "My grades-"

"Doesn't matter, you're still stupid." He turns you around, hand cracking down on your ass. You yelp immediately, unprepared, the moan no doubt escaping the thin walls of the janitor's closet. "See? What'd I just tell you? Stupid girl can't keep quiet even without a cock in her."

You keep down your whines as he continues spanking you, one hand lifting your skirt to let him see and the other punishing you with a force that made you jolt. "You're stupid because you just need a guy to tell you how dirty you are for your brain to become mush. You handed over your panties without even thinking. You kept this wet pussy from us for years when you could've been getting fucked the way you're supposed to. Aren't you such a stupid girl for that?"

He delivers a harsh slap right at your pussy, making you rise to your tip toes at the mix of pain and pleasure. "Say you're a stupid girl if you want me to fuck you."

"I'm a stupid girl," you blurt out immediately, earning a cocky grin from the handsome man. Your heart began racing as you look behind you to see him unbuckling his belt and pulling out a condom.

"Yeah?" His tone is so cocky. You hold your breath in anticipation when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. Jungkook only teased you, however, arm reaching around you to tug you closer to him, his frame caging yours as his fingers danced down your abdomen. "Why's that, huh?"

"B-because I should've told you guys the truth earlier," you blabber, trying to move your hips back. Jungkook's fingers rubbed circular motions around your clit, making it impossible for you to stay still. Jungkook held you in place however, enjoying watching you squirm. "That I'm a slut."

Jungkook hummed, kissing your neck, fingers continuing to drive you crazy. He pushes his hips forward, trapping you snuggly against him as he plunges his dick inside. Both of you moan out at the feeling, your legs left quivering as you try to stabilize yourself. "Can't believe you kept this pussy from me," Jungkook gasps out, hips rutting against yours, his grasp on you tightening. "I should've been fucking this pussy ages ago, could've felt you creaming my cock, and would've if you hadn't kept it from me. Stupid, selfish little slut."

You moan from how much he filled you, aiming at that spot that had your toes curling. "I'm sorry!"

Jungkook yanks your hair back, making your back arch. "You haven't even begun to feel sorry yet," he growls, kissing you with a ferocity as he kept your head in place, grip firm in your hair. He was consuming all of your senses, the cramped space giving you nothing to give you get distance. You were reminded of when you danced with him at the club, the first time he even began to direct his behavior to you. "Take this cock you were so desperate for."

He lets go of you, hands securing on your hips to fuck you deeper, as though he were really using you as a toy to relieve stress. You moan out, eyes welling up with tears from feeling the tip touch your cervix. Jungkook notices, diving in to the hilt and slowly grinding his hips against yours, skin pressed together. His hand returned to your clit, making your muscles tense up from the simulation from both ends. "Can you handle it?" He breathes the words out, his fingers making it hard to focus.

"Yeah, use me. I can take it." You say the words with full confidence.

Jungkook lifts one of your legs up, rotating your hips as he spreads your legs apart, drawing his hips back to thrust as deeply into you as he can. You moan out from the feeling, arms scrambling onto the wall as you try to keep your balance. You mumble something under your breath, the words coming out louder than intended due to Jungkook's thrusts.

"What's that?" He asks, turning your head back to him. "I didn't hear you."

You bite your lip. "Said 'Surprised you didn't go for the ass.'"

"Don't have lube on me. I figured I'd use your ass next time we fuck." You clench down on him at his words, and he catches on. "You didn't really think this would be the only time we'd fuck, huh? Nah, pussy's too good. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this isn't going to be the last time I fuck you. You'd better get used to feeling this dick up in your guts." His smirk looks more like a sneer as he sees how his words affect you. "I'm so lucky you ended up being such a gross pervert."

"I-I'm not a perv," you insist.

"Yeah? Only a pervert would like this nasty shit. You get so wet just from us being mean to you. It's pathetic."

His wet mouth is sucking hickeys on your neck, his free hand coming down to toy with your clit. "I'm gonna cum," you groan out. The desperate sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the janitor's closet. You were sure Taehyung could hear every sordid sound, your own whines and moans included, from his position just outside the door.You feel his smile against your skin as he pushes you closer to the precipice.

You don't get the satisfying end of riding out your orgasm, however, as Jungkook immediately pulls out and away. Your back meets the door, hands held above your hand in a singular grip. His hand comes down on your spasming cunt, and you close your legs out of instinct. "Open your legs right fucking now." Your legs fly apart, another hit making you flinch in pain, legs twitching as Jungkook continued slapping your pussy. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you were left trembling from the ruined orgasm.

He pulls you in, giving you some sweet kisses as you gathered your breath. "Do you want me to keep punishing you? Or are you ready to be rewarded?"

Your face is something akin to a pout. "Reward."

"Gonna be a good girl for me now?"

"Yes," you sniffle, pulling Jungkook back to you.

He steps between your legs, hoisting you up against the door and fucking you against the wall. In hindsight it probably wasn't the most inconspicuous idea, but it didn't seem like that was Jungkook's priority. His priority was absolutely destroying you, building your orgasm fast. His mouth pants against yours, swallowing your moans greedily. "Disgusting little brat, you like me pounding you like this?"

"Yes! Feels so good," you moan out, squealing as Jungkook carried out his mission of destroying you.

“Like having your precious Taehyung outside, listening to you getting fucked?” He snickers, the laugh dark and ominous. “Let him hear those slutty noises you’re making for me? How well you take my cock?”

“Jungkook-“

“Yeah, say my name. Let Tae know how much you like being used by his friends,” Jungkook says, words coming out in a snarl. “Say my name while I fuck you like a whore.”

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungko-ook!” Your moans are breathy, pleasure making your guts twist as your orgasm approached.

"Gonna let me use this pussy whenever I want, too? Offer me your holes whenever I want?"

"Yes, you can do whatever you want with me." You felt like you were going to burst any second. "I'll be good for you."

"Go on, cum on my dick again. Prove to me you're a good girl."

It hits you like a tidal wave, Jungkook's kiss devouring your whine as he continued to fuck you against the wall. He cums in the condom, hips staggering against you as he pins himself against you. Eventually he lets you down, leaving you light-headed. Jungkook kept you standing, your legs wobbly. His fingers comb through your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. "You were so good for me. I knew you would be. Just had to fuck the bratiness outta you."

He adjusts his clothes to look like he didn't just ruin you in a closet, and knocks the same pattern as before. Taehyung opens the door, giving Jungkook a knowing smile. "I'll keep watch now," Jungkook says, trading places with Taehyung. You're left alone with your boyfriend, who immediately pulls you into his arms, seeing how bad your legs were shaking.

"Jungkook fucked you really good, huh?" Taehyung chuckled, admiring what a mess you had become. Your hair looked closer to a bird's nest, and your clothes were all wrinkled and in disarray. Your thighs shone under the dim light of the closet and you legs were wobbling like a baby deer. Anyone who saw you right now would know you just had an intense round of rough sex.

You nod, low on energy. Still, you turned around and put your hands on the wall, presenting yourself to him. "Your turn."

"Mm, my baby still isn't satisfied, is that it?" Taehyung groans, squeezing his erection over his slacks. "Still need my cock? You can barely stand, y'sure you can take it?"

You nod adamantly. "Wanna be a good slut for you, sir. I'm always ready to take you."

"Jungkook really fucked the bratiness out of you, huh?" Taehyung finally starts to pull out his dick, and you feel the anticipation build. "You never run your mouth like that with me, baby. You really wanted to be used like a toy, huh?"

"Yes," You hiss out the word, feeling Taehyung thrust into you. "Wanna be useful."

"I'm sure Jungkook's so grateful you let him use your pussy to get off," Taehyung purrs, deep thrusts still managing to make you wince in overstimulation. You were already beginning to feel that delicious soreness you were starting to crave. "You're such a good slut for me."

His hand starts touching your clit, and you're left whimpering in his arms. "Please, sir, I can't-"

"You're supposed to be my girl, aren't you?" Taehyung's voice is as harsh as his touch as he grabs your face, forcing you to look his way. "So shut up and take it."

You nod fervently, kissing him as you let him guide you to the edge. Taehyung buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking on whatever skin was exposed to him. It was like he was re-claiming you, reminding you who you really belonged to. As if you could forget. “Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last long. Feels like I was hard forever having to listen to Jungkook fuck you like a bitch in heat.”

“H-He was the bitch in heat.”

Taehyung laughs. “There’s the brat from earlier. I must be lucky you’re so obsessed with me. You’re my good girl.”

“Fuck, sir, please let me cum-“

“Gonna cum again, already? Fuck, you’re so greedy.” Taehyung’s teeth sink into the skin at the juncture of your neck, groaning as he bit you. “Cum for me. Cum on your favorite cock.”

Your orgasm washes over you in a tidal wave as you do exactly as you’re told, and it only takes a few more strokes before Taehyung is pulling out and cumming on your ass. You’re left panting and slumped over the wall, head dizzy and limbs worn out. Taehyung peppers soft kisses on your face and neck, giving you time to come back down to Earth. “You did so good for us, baby,” he praises. “You feeling tired?”

You nod dumbly, letting out soft sighs at the feeling of Taehyung lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Mm, we’ll take care of you.” Taehyung smooths your hair, looking at you with an admiring gaze. “Let’s get our girl taken care of, hm?”

#taehyung smut #taehyung #jungkook #jungkook smut #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #smut #bts smut #bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #dom jungkook #dom taehyung

521 notes · View notes

slamminslamminmcgill · 2 years ago

Note

brother i swear to you your saul/reader fics got me creaming for my life I've never been fed this well ever in my entire life. may i make a request/suggestion? I'd kill for you to write some overstimulation involving one of those remote controlled vibrators while on working hours, that shit would slap so hard from you omfg

hi!!! hope ur ok w/ a drabble for now :3

You swore one of these days you were gonna look for a new job.

Today was not that day. You had left work yesterday carrying a delicately wrapped gift box, courtesy of your boss, who told you very specifically not to open it until you were home. And that you were to come in to work the next day wearing it. You remembered being flattered by his generosity, excited all the way home about what it could’ve possibly been.

And then you opened the box and remembered your boss was a gigantic pervert.

Still, you figured you didn’t fare much better, especially since you were the one standing outside your job with a vibrator inside you. It was off, thank god. You considered it a stroke of luck when you realized you had no idea how to turn it on. You fished your phone out of your pocket, about to text him that you were outside, when the front door swung open.

Saul Goodman was there to greet you with a shit-eating grin. “Right on time, kid! Come on in.” He was as giddy as a kid on Christmas, and it was fucking irritating. You thought about the pros and cons of cold-cocking him in his smug face, but figured great sex and steady income were worthwhile rewards of being his sexual guinea pig.

He pushed open the doors to his office, beckoning you inside. When you entered, he grabbed your wrist and pinned you to one of the columns. You were understandably caught off guard, which he saw as the perfect opportunity to start kissing and sucking your neck. His other hand wasted no time in getting to your crotch. He pulled away to ask you, “So… did you follow my instructions?”

You yelped, your mind racing to find the answer to his question. “Yes, sir. It’s… it’s inside.”

He pressed two fingers down hard against your clothed sex, searching for the toy. He gasped in delight when he felt it. “Good boy. Can I see?” He asked, letting go of you and stepping back.

He had you trained so perfectly. The second his hands left your body, you were scrambling to undo your belt. You slid your pants off and braced yourself against the marble before spreading your legs. Between them was a hot pink vibrator nestled inside you, just barely touching you where you needed it.

Saul gave a wolf whistle at the sight of you. “God, I knew this was a good idea. Though, just one more thing…” He reached into his pocket and grabbed some small plastic thing. You couldn’t quite tell what it was, but you figured it out seconds later.

He clicked a button and the device ignited inside you. Your knees buckled and you grabbed the column for support, already a whimpering, disheveled mess. Just how he liked you. He stepped closer to you, forcing his leg in between yours to keep you upright, and grabbed your chin.

“Look at me,” The command made you feel even weaker than you already were, “Here’s how today’s gonna go. We’re gonna have all our scheduled meetings in the morning. Then we break for lunch, and do walk-ins after. Regular day, right? Except you’re gonna keep that toy inside you the whole time. And you’re gonna do exactly what I say, when I say it. Understand?”

You nodded frantically. Verbal confirmation would have taken too much brain power.

Saul was not impressed. You knew he expected a verbal answer. “Hm. You wanna act like a brat today? Fine,” He tapped the up button on the remote a few times, and the vibrations grew stronger. You shrieked, back arching, knees buckling, your body practically liquifying but for his firm grip keeping you up. “Act like a brat all you want. But I’m in control here, and I’m not gonna let you forget it.” He turned the vibrator up to its max level. “Now I’m gonna ask you again. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” You cried, already on the precipice of an orgasm not 5 minutes into your shift. “Yes, fuck! Yes, Mr. Goodman! I understand!”

“Good boy,” Saul answered, clicking the vibrator off and letting you go. You whined at the lack of closure. He’d snuffed out your flame before it barely got to burn. “Get dressed. First client is gonna be here in a minute.”

You couldn’t even do that in peace. When you bent over to pick up your clothes, Saul flicked the vibrator on and off a few times just to watch your body jolt in response, laughing to himself each time he did it.

This was gonna be a long day.

#anon #ask #saul goodman #jimmy mcgill #gene takovic #saul goodman x reader #saul goodman smut #jimmy mcgill x reader #jimmy mcgill smut #gene takovic x reader #gene takovic smut #breaking bad #brba #better call saul #bcs #breaking bad x reader #breaking bad smut #better call saul x reader #better call saul smut

162 notes · View notes

star-going-supernova · 1 year ago

Note

Prompt: it Aint a Glamorous Life, but it will keep you out of jail!

This is tumblr generated prompt number 62! This one had me stumped for a bit, so I tried to go in a really unexpected direction. It’s shorter than my usual, but I’m pleased with how it came out! As you may have noticed with one of my other ficlets, I chose King as Cassie’s last name because I think Cassie King sounds really cool and I haven’t seen any commonly used one, lol.

Blood Money

There was nothing in the world Theodore King wouldn’t do for his daughter. She was all he had after Bridget left. So he’d worked hard, taken any job he could just to stay afloat, and when he discovered his current place of employment was far from clean…

He’d taken the bribe.

Fazbear Entertainment’s history was stained to begin with, so he hadn’t quite been surprised, exactly. Not about that. How well they’d been hiding it—that’d been the surprising part.

It wasn’t often, but every now and then, someone got a little nosey. They snooped around and saw something they shouldn’t have. And those sorts of things were secrets that FE really couldn’t afford to let become common knowledge.

Maybe they could’ve been bribed too, except the nosey ones were usually the suspicious ones, the conspiracy theorists, the whistleblowers. They didn’t accidentally stumble on this stuff like Theodore did. They went looking to prove their theories, and they wanted to share their findings.

And how defiant and proud they were to have been proven right. But only up until they realized they’d doomed themselves.

Theodore didn’t relish this rare aspect of his job, when code zero came through on his pager. If his fellows thought anything odd about the code that only he ever received, and that he immediately set aside his other work for, they never spoke up about it. Perhaps they, too, had found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, only unlike Theodore, they swore only their silence.

Theodore, rather, had found his silence and cooperation could be bought—at a high price, but one his superiors were willing to pay. Employees like him were hard to come by, apparently.

There was mutually assured destruction in it now, he knew. If any of this side of FE got out, he’d be arrested as surely as his bosses. His fellows, with their carefully averted eyes, would have no charges brought against them.

Theodore was the only one who dragged the snoopers down to the rancid trash heap with its hungry dwellers. The pits of bright-eyed, sharp-fingered, “defective” bots. They were like pigs; there was never any evidence left by the time they were through with their victims.

Rare as it was, it did happen, and it had happened enough times since Theodore got involved that he felt only mild pity and an apathy where once there had been guilt.

In truth, Theodore thought these people to be foolish. Yes, very foolish indeed. They came to the pizzaplex and went digging for bloody secrets. And they found them. Yet they never seemed to consider that an already bloody company would be willing to do bloody things to keep those secrets quiet.

He took his blood money without remorse. It was hard, being a single father. He needed flexible hours to take care of his young daughter and actually be in her life, and all the high-paying jobs were the sort that demanded twenty-five hours of your day, eight days a week and on Christmas to boot. Before this… arrangement, he’d barely been making ends meet, having to work another job on top of the one at the pizzaplex.

But doing his superiors’ dirty work payed well. Well enough that he and Cassie lived in a house now, with a backyard and nice neighbors and a bedroom just for Cassie. Well enough that he’d been able to quit the other job and be there for Cassie more. Well enough that Cassie no longer had to worry about kids making fun of her secondhand clothes and worn-out shoes, and could instead feel excited-nervous butterflies about going to camp this summer.

Theodore King would do anything for his daughter. That included sending people to their deaths at another’s order. He didn’t know if that made him a bad man or not.

But according to Cassie, he was the world’s best dad.

He supposed that wasn’t a bad trade off.

#i answered a thing #anonymous #fnaf fic #fnaf ruin #star's stories #life and times of star

16 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 2 years ago

Text

Honestly, you weren’t all that taken aback to see Tangerine standing just outside your house, casually lights the cigarette hanging from his lips; acting as though he wasn’t accumulating a small puddle of blood beneath him that was seeping through your lovely welcome mat. His well tailored clothes were unsalvageable, his skin was tainted with dirt, mucus, injuries of varying sizes and sections of his hair were mattered with his and someone else’s blood. Yet he still looked inexplicably handsome…for a British twat that was.

“Would you kindly mind in getting the fuck off my welcome mat, your getting your blood all over it.” You told him just as you opened the front door to be greeted with the sight of his broad backside. Tangerine looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened when they landed on your frame, “Oh fuck, this was your house? If I had fucking knew that beforehand I would have seen myself elsewhere.” You gave him a tight lipped smile, you and Tangerine didn’t have the best of relationships; you couldn’t pinpoint where it began but it felt like you could never withstand to be within one another’s presence. Needless to say your only common contact was his Thomas the tank engine obsessed brother, Lemon.

“Then why didn’t you?” You questioned, not actually wanting to know how the fuck he had found where you lived if it wasn’t under the pretence of killing you once and for all. His stance seemed to softened as his flicked away his cigarette butt into the open street, breathing out the last traces of smoke from his lungs. “I didn’t have anywhere to go.” Tangerine’s voice was vulnerable as he stared out across the street, unwilling to gauge your reaction for the very same reason you never gauge his when you knew he hit a nerve. You were both so alike in the most minute ways that it was easily missable by both parties involved, resulting in countless misconceptions where as something as simple communication could’ve been the easy clear cut solution.

“I was still high on adrenaline after my mission that when I finally came off the fucker, that’s when my injuries became a problem I couldn’t ignore.” You stayed silent, allowing for Tangerine to continue his story, “I knew I couldn’t go to the hospital and I didn’t want to bother Lemon on his day off that by the time I realised where I was I…found myself looking for you instead.” He finished, looking you at you briefly before looking away once more, still bleeding by the way. To your knowledge Tangerine wasn’t a man of vulnerability but more so one of brutality and profound swearing that would make a sailor blush. So to witness his guard fall before your very eyes was the equivalent to seeing pigs fly, it was against everything you’ve ever known but it was a welcoming shock to your system being able to witness such a sight.

“Say somethin’ then, I feel like a right fucking twat right about now.” Tangerine uttered, his guard coming back up when he realised that he had just allowed himself into being vulnerable within your presence and on your own doorstep too. You blinked back into reality and saw how much paler he had gotten from how he looked at the beginning of all this, all the while coming to the unspoken acknowledgement that you had to act quickly before you were left to drag his unconscious body all by your lonesome. Sighing, you opened the door wider for your unwilling guest, “get in,” you gestured with your head towards the hallway that stared back at you two, “and do it quick before anyone gets the impression that I’m hiding a dead body.” You added as Tangerine smiled at your invitation before wincing when he moved a certain way, causing his wounds to become more aggravated and quickly rushing for the comfort of your home.

All the while you grabbed the now ruined welcome mat and shutting the door behind you though not before giving the streets a quick glance over incase of some unwanted onlookers from perceiving the scene before them however they saw to fit their unreliable narrative. You were well aware of how unliked you were by the elders who lived across the street, you were well aware of how ever since you’ve moved into the neighbourhood they’ve done nothing but try in catching you doing some scandalous act that they could get you convicted for. Every morning they would scowl at you and every evening they could be seen on their front porch, watching your house like old decrepit hawks, hungry for an ounce of flesh to be thrown their way. ‘Desperate cunts’ you’d called them. Though recently they had to be relocated to a care home due to their inability to look after themselves as health complications began to arise.

You soon found Tangerine cooped up within your bathroom, stripped completely of his shirt as he helped himself to the first aid kit you had tucked away in your mirrored cabinet he was now staring himself in as he patched up some of the more significant wounds. You normally wouldn’t be caught dead staring at the one person you seemingly hated as equally as your elderly neighbours. Yet you found yourself immobile at the doorway, admiring the scars from previous jobs he had taken on and the way his muscles would react, tensing and almost flinching away from his own touch as he disinfected a particularly nasty wound upon his hip.

He must’ve caught your reflection because he only halted his movements to stare at you through the mirror, “you know instead of staring how about you either take a picture or lend a hand in patching me up, yeah.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as to hide the fact that you were caught for your blatant starting, “your a grown man Tangerine, you should be able to take care of your own boo boos by now and besides I wasn’t staring, I was critiquing your sloppy job of patching yourself up.” The male only seemed to laugh at your attempt of a cover up as he went back to patching himself with the unreliable aid of your mirror. “Suit yourself, love.” He replied as he reached for the gauze,“suit yourself.”

#tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fic #tangerine imagines #tangerine imagine #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #bullet train fic #bullet train imagines #bullet train fanfic #bullet train imagine #bullet train x reader #bullet train x you

603 notes · View notes

gracemyface · 3 years ago

Text

Daryl: The Professional (Daryl Dixon x Young! Reader)

Chapter Six

Key:

Y/n - Your Name

Y/l/n - Your Last Name

Y/e/c - Your Eye Color

Y/h/c - Your Hair Color

Series Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

Summary: Things are unsettled at camp after the fight and Jim's breakdown, and the Reader finds themselves too worried about Daryl to really enjoy any of the festivities. Meanwhile, Daryl finds himself struggling in the city, wanting to return to camp but not wanting to face the wrath that would come from leaving Glenn behind. They're finally reunited when, in a turn for the worse, the camp is attacked by a wandering herd of walkers...

Warnings: Major Character Death, Canon Typical Violence/Gore, Some Angst.

A/n: I will have no real Lori slander. She did some shitty things, yes, but she loved her kids and the other women’s kids. Anyway, how do we like Daryl’s pov? I really, really struggled with it bc he’s such an asshole (I mean that affectionately.)

Shit really goes down this chapter. You guys have a slight breakdown, but it's been a long time coming. Character development ig?

also, do we want more stories from when the Reader, Daryl, and Merle were together?

Word Count: 4.8k

The first time Daryl ever saw you, the blood-soaked orphan with a far-off stare who’d barricaded themself into the corner of his father’s cabin, he felt a prickle of annoyance travel up his spine.

He didn’t know why you were out in the woods, or what had happened to result in you being covered in the crimson liquid (though, if his father hadn’t just been eaten in front of him, he would’ve assumed it was a pig slaughtering gone awry), or how you got into the cabin. He, especially at that moment, hadn’t even cared. He knew immediately that Jess wouldn’t have left you behind, cursed his father’s half-brother and his bleeding heart, and reduced you to nothing in his mind but another mouth to feed — a weak, sniveling mouth at that. He wasn’t ever keen on being around kids, smart-mouthed teenagers even less, and he didn’t really want to have to handle the collapse of society with anybody who couldn’t fend for themselves.

You showed him, though. You really did.

In those few days when it was just you and him after Jess took that fall off the truck when you officially became his responsibility, you proved you weren’t weak. You adapted to the end of the world quickly — learned to be quiet when you needed to be, to be useful most of the time, and to just eat whatever he managed to catch. And then you took on Merle in a way that nobody really dared to, most nights ending with you sending his older brother a heated gaze over the fire, the flames reflecting in your y/e/c eyes. Now, he still wouldn’t leave his life in your hands if he had the choice, even after you shot that man clear in the head back in Fontana and walked it off, but he knows for sure that he can trust you to handle your own — and, even if he doesn’t really appreciate being wrong, he can’t help but admire you for it… though, he’d never admit it aloud.

Standing in a long-abandoned lab building in an overrun Atlanta, the redneck stares down at the whimpering kid they picked up with pure disdain. His lips are curled back over his teeth in a sneer and his eyes are slanted as he stares down, internally picking apart every little thing the teenager does. That is what he expected from you.

What a shit show this little expedition-slash-rescue mission has turned out to be.

Not only was Merle not where they left him — currently down one hand and on the run through the sweltering pit of hell that has become of the once lively city — but now they’ve lost Glenn, too. If Daryl’d known that the younger man was going to get taken hostage by a bunch of wannabe gangsters and hold them up like this, he’d have left before these assholes could’ve even thought about getting into the truck with him.

He wanted to be the hell out of dodge three hours ago. “Them guns are worth more than gold. Gold won’t protect your family or put food on the table— you’re gonna give that up for that kid?”

Both of them give him a stern look, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, the kid is nice and all, and half the camp (including you) would be really pissed off if they came back without him, but they can’t give up half of these guns. It’s either Glenn or a better chance at survival and he picks survival.

“If I knew we’d get Glenn back, I might agree. But, you think that Vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?”

Daryl nods in agreement. There’s that, too. They have no idea for certain if giving up the guns will even get them what they want. It might just be a trap that gets them all killed.

“You calling G a liar?” Their hostage— Miguel, was it?— inserts himself into the equation.

His mind once again drifts to you. If you were kidnapped, you wouldn’t be this stupid. You’d be smart enough to not mouth off to the people who held you captive, smart enough to figure out how to get yourself free, and smart enough not to make promises on his behalf that he might not be able to keep. You’d be mute, sitting there and watching your captors with those dangerous little eyes of yours.

This kid, though? Christ.

“Are you a part of this?” He crosses the room and leans down over the kid, slapping him lightly. “You wanna hold onto your teeth?”

T-Dog continues on, ignoring the violence. “Question is, do you trust that man’s word?”

“No, question is what are you willing to bet on it? Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?” He holds Rick’s gaze.

Truth be told, Daryl doesn’t quite get risking why anybody would risk their life for someone who wasn’t their blood. Glenn wasn’t any of their brother, son, or cousin — he was just some (former) pizza running kid that was on the highway, in the right place and at the right time when Shane spearheaded the group and lead them off the highway. Merle is probably the only person in the world that the redneck would even think to sacrifice anything for.

(Except maybe…)

“What life I have I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't.” Rick loads his revolver and sticks it in his pocket. “Neither will I.”

Daryl scoffs in his soul. “So you’re gonna hand the guns over?”

“I didn't say that.”

The sheriff's voice has now taken a quality that has his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

“There's nothing keeping you two here. You should get out, head back to camp.”

T-Dog winces from his injuries, rubbing his head with his hand. “And tell your family what?”

Daryl and Rick stare at each other for a beat, a silent conversation happening between them, before he sighs shortly and reaches for a weapon. You’d probably be really pissed at him if he didn’t try, and he doesn’t want to deal with an emotional teenager right about now.

“Come on, this is nuts.” The boy sits back down when Daryl holds a hand out to him. “Just do like G says.”

The redneck ignores the whining boy and starts loading a shotgun. He needs this to be over as quickly as possible, and he needs the gangster assholes to go down without a fight.

He made a promise to come back alive, after all.

──────────────────

Jim has a heatstroke. Or, at least, that’s what Shane keeps dismissing it as. With the current state of the world, it could’ve very well been post-bite fever or a psychotic break.

He’d been digging for reasons unknown and unintentionally ruined the good news of the incredible amount of food they were going to have tonight in the process. Shane went all cop on him, which didn’t really surprise you after what happened with Ed, and the whole ordeal ended with Jim being tied to a tree after ranting and raving about how he left his family for dead. Everyone seemed to move on after that, the mothers dragged their children off to do schoolwork and a few of the other adults started setting up for the fish fry, but you found yourself a little nauseous.

It looked like he was digging graves, and why did he go into such intense detail?

Hiding away in your tent, you lay down on top of your sleeping bag and throw a ball of socks up just to catch it as it comes down. You hoped the action would be therapeutic — something to take your mind off the image of Jim’s poor family and how it bleeds into the image of your own — but the socks lack the weight of a real ball, and you can’t get out of your head.

Had washing your parents’ blood off your skin absolved you of any responsibility in their deaths? Were you doomed to end up like Jim?

Would you also, someday soon, have a psychotic break?

“Hey, Y/n?” Lori’s soft voice drifts through the thin fabric of your tent as he speaks timidly.

For a beat, you decide if you want to be silent and let her think you’re asleep. “Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“Shane’s gonna teach Carl and Sophia to clean fish. He wanted to know if you’d join.”

You already know how to gut an animal. Squirrels, rabbits, and even a deer, once — Daryl had always been very big on you learning how to survive in the time you spent together, and that learning involved getting over the grossness of animal entrails very, very quickly. You were living through the end of the world, he’d reasoned, you don’t have time to be weak-stomached.

And you don’t want to spend time with Shane. That’s at the top of the list of things you don’t want.

But you’re not going to tell the woman that you dislike the man she was sleeping with, so you say, “I already know how to.”

There’s another beat of silence, and you can see the shadow of her willowy figure shift through the wall of the tent.

“Can I come in?”

You, certainly not expecting that, pause.

“Uh, sure.”

You sit up and push yourself to the back of the tent, watching as Lori unzips the door and ducks down inside. She’s got sincere eyes. So sincere that when she crouches down in front of you and meets your gaze, your skin starts to crawl.

“You feelin’ okay?”

You hate that question. Something burns behind your nose and you snuggle, shrugging pitifully. “Dunno. Pretty shit — what happened to Jim, I mean.”

Lori nods thoughtfully. “Yeah… it is.”

She looks a little pale. Surely, the death of children doesn’t sit well with a mother, even if they aren’t her own.

“I, uh, I understand that you’ve had a rough time.” The brunette doesn’t seem to know what to say to you, and you almost feel bad. “I mean, I don’t. Not really. And you don’t have to tell me anything.” She stresses that point with a sweep of her hand. “But I know something must’ve happened because everyone has something happen.”

You nod along, fiddling with a loose string on your jeans.

“I— Daryl and Merle don’t exactly seem like the easiest people to talk to, so if you ever need anything, me and Carol are right here, okay?”

“…okay.”

She smiles softly at you, and you spare one back. Lori and Carol are perfectly nice women, but you almost prefer Daryl, who has put a ban on personal questions and mostly ignores the emotional side of everything. You know you aren’t going to go to Lori and tell her things.

You wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Y’know, Carl likes you? Like, a lot.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Sophia, too.”

Deep down, you know this is her trying to coax you out of the tent, but you let it boost your ego anyway. There’s something so incredibly normal (and endearing) about being looked up to — even if, sometimes, it gets a little annoying.

“And I’m guessing they would really, really like it if I went out there and helped Shane gut fish with ‘em?”

“Yeah. They would.”

Pursing your lips, you stare at the woman through slightly narrowed eyes before sighing and giving in.

“Alright…”

She grins widely and it kind of makes up for it.

Shane seems to be getting frustrated with the ordeal when you arrive, correcting Sophia’s stance with a tightness pulling at his smile as Lori gently nudges you along. You take the seat next to him without a word, pretending you don’t notice how he and the woman exchange a look, or how Carl shifts toward you on the log. It’s a hundred degrees out and he’s attached to your hip already, watching with those big blue eyes of his as you silently grab a fish off the pile and get to gutting it.

You can remember the steps well: descale, cut a slit in the belly, remove the guts and fins and head, and rinse.

“Look at you.” Shane compliments in a drawl, finally getting Sophia to do what he needed her to. “Like a swan to water.”

With a wrinkled nose, you drop fish innards into a bucket and turn to look at him as you shake the blood off your hands.

“Yeah, well, you spend enough time with the Dixons and you’ll learn how to gut anything.”

Something dark flashes across his face but you don’t care. You turn back to the fish, making a little joke to Carl about fish eyes that makes his entire face scrunch up and draws a long ‘Ewww’ from his lips. The laugh that bursts from you rattles in your bones.

──────────────────

“Hey, Dale, you got a?—“ The question dies on your lips as, upon stepping over the threshold of the RV, you stumble upon Andrea.

Every cabinet in the mobile home’s little kitchenette is open and she appears to be rooting through them desperately. At the sound of your voice, she pauses, looking up at you like she’s an animal and you just caught her looking through your garbage cans.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” You retort, shifting your weight. “Do you know where Dale is?”

“No, but I wish I did.” She heaves a sigh and runs her hand through her hair.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen the woman quite so frantic. Somewhere down the line, Andrea Harrison was a lawyer, and it’s hard to imagine her standing in the front of a courtroom, prim and proper and ready to kick some ass, with her standing in front of you like this.

“Can I help you any?” You ask just as Dale finally responds to his summons, stepping over the threshold with a quiet, “Did I hear my name?“

“Yeah.” Both you and Andrea answer at once, but you step back and gesture to her. “I think she needs help first.”

The blonde spares you a nervous smile.

“Alright. What do you need?”

“Wrapping paper, color tissue, anything?”

(Okay, maybe you regret letting her go first. At this rate, you’ll never get that bandaid.)

You stare at her with furrowed brows and a scrunched-up face.

“Seriously?” Dale shares in your confusion, glancing warily between the two of you. You offer him a shrug.

“How could you not have any?”

“Had I been informed of the impending apocalypse I'd have stocked up.”

Your snort at the old man’s dry words earns you a particularly derisive look from Andrea. “What? It’s the end of the world and you need wrapping paper. Shoot me for finding that amusing.”

“It’s Amy’s birthday tomorrow.” She says it like you should know that (probably because you should.) “I've been marking days on the calendar just to make sure.”

Your eyes wander over to the calendar on the wall of the RV as she lifts the necklace that she stole for a gift to her sister. Surely enough, Andrea has been crossing out the days on it.

Despite what you expected, there is no big circle over Amy’s birthday or anything, but you then figure that would probably ruin the surprise. Your older (in age and not maturity) blonde friend had come to you earlier in the week and lamented to you about the situation. While you’d always known that Andrea was the older of the pair, you didn’t know just how much until Amy filled you in on the ghosts of birthday past; she told you all about the older blonde’s broken promises to return to the nest for her little sister’s birthday, about how, more often than not, college and other things got in the way. She must’ve seen the calendar, too, and been disappointed by the apparent lack of acknowledgment that it was growing closer and closer to her favorite holiday.

“You can’t leave a gift unwrapped.”

“Oh, it’s good that you got something. I think she thinks you forgot.” That was told to you in confidence, but you stretched the truth a bit, so it isn’t that bad, right?

Dale and Andrea both look at you for a moment before he nods his head slowly. “Alright. Deep breath. I’m sure we’ll find something.” He turns back to face you. “What did you need?”

As if a lightbulb turned on over your head, you lift up your hand and the handkerchief that’s been wrapped around your minor flesh wound. “Carl cut me while I was demonstrating. I just need a bandaid.”

The old man shakes his head at you and steps around Andrea to go get the first aid kit, muttering to himself about the youth of today and how you’re going to lose your limb if you aren’t more careful.

──────────────────

As the grating summer sunlight fades into the darkness of dusk, taking the heat with it, the whole group (excluding the men in Atlanta and Ed, who refused to show his face around camp) sits down for the biggest meal most of them have had since the end of the world.

Cold beer and water are handed out as serving trays full of fried fish get passed around between the clusters of people who gather around their fires, the murmur of their happy chatter and soft laughter cutting through the blanketing sounds of the night. After the big fight and Jim’s foreboding breakdown, it’s nice to see everyone smiling and knowing that nobody’s going to ruin it this time — even if you can’t really find yourself joining in on the festivity.

“Pass the fish, please?”

“Here you go.”

“Man, I missed this.”

Sitting down on the end of one of the logs and feeling a little removed from everyone else, you wrap your coat tighter around your frame and let yourself worry about the group of men who went into the city. You don’t know Rick Grimes too well — he didn’t exactly give you the chance to get to know him, did he? — but you do know Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl. You know that they’re very capable men and that, in certain circumstances, most of them have more experience with geeks than you do, but you can’t help but worry. The sun has long since set, meaning that the men, wherever they are, are stranded out in the dark. You don’t really remember the nights from when it was just you and Daryl (a combination of many sleepless nights and too-high adrenaline made the memories blur together), but you know enough to know that things do get worse when the sun goes down; geeks aren’t exactly quiet, but they can really sneak up on you when there’s no light and your body wants to sleep.

Experienced or not, they're going to be tired eventually, and, if Merle doesn’t try to kill them, something else will.

“Hey, Nervous Nellie.” Shane draws your attention to him by nudging your leg with his boot, “Yeah, you— how's the fish?”

Your eyes flit down to the bottle in his hand. Beer surely makes him a little looser.

“It’s alright.”

The ex-cop cocks a brow and echoes your response. “Alright?”

You really wish he’d just leave you alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really like the food. It’s bland and it tastes fishy in the worst way, and (even if you’ll admit that you’ve been eating it like a death row inmate getting their last meal as if indigestion isn’t a thing), chasing it down with water isn’t helping. Sure, it’s better than the food you’ve been eating for weeks — better than measly mushrooms, canned rations, and whatever game the Dixon brothers could hunt up — but it’s not great.

“It’s no cheeseburger.” You shrug, stabbing some more of the pale flesh with your fork. “But beggars and choosers, and all that.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Morales interjects lightheartedly, tipping the head of his beer in your direction. You smile a thin-lipped smile.

The arrival of his long-lost best friend has made Shane rather… unsettling. Whether it’s because of how cold Lori has been acting toward him or his superiority complex, you’re not sure. You just know that you want Daryl to come back, even if that means putting up with Merle for the rest of his life.

“I’ll be right back.” You dismiss yourself quietly to Jacqui when the temperature changes and your discomfort proves to be too much. She nods absentmindedly, too engrossed with whatever Dale is saying to really respond, and takes the plate from you when you hand it over.

You slip away into the darkness pretty easily, retreating to your tent in search of a sweatshirt, a breather, and maybe some reassurance that the redneck you’ve grown to like could survive whatever came at him.

With a press of your hand, the nylon flap of your tent opens and you step in. Pausing briefly to turn on the little electric lantern on the floor, you then scan the small space with your eyes, looking for anything that might pass as something with long sleeves. There’s already a pile of dirty clothes forming in the corner and most of your stuff is strewn about, but you ignore that and grab for your bag— an old duffel that belonged to Daryl’s deceased father. Curling your fingers around one of the fraying straps, you pull it up and toward you, rooting through the stuff in there until you find it. A red and black flannel.

Somewhere down the line — just like most of your stuff did — the flannel belonged to one of the Dixons. It hangs loose on your frame, the sleeves too long for your arms and the length stopping mid-thigh.

Buttoning it up, you cuff the sleeves and fiddle with the ends for a few minutes until they sit in a way you like.

Just as you’re able to breathe a deep breath and feel remotely at peace, a blood-curdling scream, followed by many more, cuts through the quiet dark of the night. Adrenaline is the first thing you feel, your heart beating in your ears and your lungs squeezed of air, and worry is the second, fear for your friends forcing your legs to move and push out of your tent again. Though, before you can do that, you’re greeted by two rotting hands shoving their way through the opening and grabbing at your shoulders in a surprisingly iron grip. The shock of seeing a geek so up-close causes you to stumble back, but your ankle twists harshly — sending you sprawling to the ground with the monster right on top of you.

“Oh, god!” The cracked scream leaves your lips, the now-shattered glass from the lantern digging into the skin of your leg.

The walker is — or, was — a man. It gnashes its teeth and pushes toward you, the sound of the bones clacking together making you whimper. Is this what your parents felt in their last moments? Jim’s wife and kids? Very quickly, your arms start to tremble under the weight of the much larger body, and you decide to not resign yourself to the same fate. Craning your head, you search for a weapon.

There’s no way for you to reach your gun right about now, which you can’t really shoot with one hand anyway, but there has to be something else — anything you can use.

As the walker claws desperately at your shirt and groans miserably, you have to make the rash decision to remove one hand from its chest and give yourself less leverage to reach blindly behind you. Panicked breaths puff past your lips and your head starts to feel light as you grab at your stuff. Your fingers tightening around your sleeping bag, you give a harsh tug and hear the faintest sound of objects clattering around. The walker pushes down on your forearm as your fingers touch what feels like the hilt of a knife. Daryl must’ve thrown it in with your belongings a while back.

Letting out a strangled and panicked sound, you take the weapon and stab the walker with all your might.

The steel of the blade pops the walker’s eye upon entry and slides right through to its brain. Closing your eyes and mouth, you whip your head to the side as a mixture of ink-like blood and gel-like eye fluids drip down the hilt of the knife and onto your face. Its body, now eerily still and limp, falls on top of yours, making it hard to fully inhale as stuttered, panicked breaths rack your chest. As the sounds of gunshots and screams continue from outside the tent, you roll the body off you and force yourself up on your knees, gasping breaths through frightened sobs as you try to tug the knife out of the dead head.

As you pull it free, another walker stumbles into your tent and tries to pounce on you. Before it can bite a chunk out of your body, the tent door is being pushed open and a bullet is shattering its skull.

“Y/n!?” Glenn’s voice is just audible over the deadly mixture of your heartbeat and painful ringing in your ears, his eyes wide as he hopes what he just shot was actually dead before he shot it. “Y/n?!”

“Glenn.” You whimper, kicking the other dead body away from you. Your alleviation that the men from Atlanta are alive is short-lived.

“Oh.” He breathes in relief and slings the gun over his shoulder, reaching out to hold your forearms. “Oh. You’re okay. Oh, god. That’s good.”

“Daryl— is— is Daryl?” You can barely form words, your fingernails digging into his skin.

“Daryl’s fine. C’mon. We have to get out of here!”

He ushers you to your feet. The pain in your calf worsens as you stand up on shaky legs, every movement causing the glass to shift in your skin, and you stumble forward into his chest.

“I can’t— I hurt my leg.” You hiccup and Glenn sighs softly, wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders so he can half carry you.

“I have you.”

Glenn leads you out into the chaos. What’s left of camp isn’t very different from what Sedalia was like all those weeks ago — bodies, both rotting and fresh, littering the floor and the once-contained fires roaring loudly against the stones. Howls of anguish and sobs fill the air.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Daryl’s southern drawl echoes through the remains of the camp, worry, fear, and anger lacing his words. “Where the hell is the kid?!”

The survivors are all gathered around the RV, and you watch as he shoves Shane lightly for getting in his way.

“Where are they? Did you leave them alone?” Rick tacks on as T-Dog tries to get in between them, his son in his arms. “Has anyone seen Y/n?”

As the moonlight casts a blue shadow on your blood and grime covered skin, you let go of Glenn and find it within yourself to shout. “I’m right here!”

The redneck’s head snaps over to you and he abandons his antagonism against the ex-cop in favor of running over to you. Daryl grabs your face in both of his hands and starts scanning over your features.

“You alright? Any of this blood yours?” He whispers gruffly.

“I’m… I mean I hurt my leg but otherwise I’m fine. No bites.” Your hollow voice cracks slightly as you speak, and your gaze flits away from him as he bends down to check your leg. “Is that?…”

Andrea sits, crumpled at the foot of the door into the RV. In her lap is Amy. Sweet Amy. Amy, who missed texting more than most and still had this beautiful ability to wonder in her twenties. Amy, whose birthday is tomorrow.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

Your blood runs cold and your stomach drops so fast you might fall over as the older blonde’s bloody hands brush across your dead friend’s pale skin.

“Don’t look.” Your guardian orders once he’s followed your gaze, but it’s too late.

Tears, burning hot and long coming, spill out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Daryl sighs and, because the attention isn’t on either of you, lets you curl into his chest, his hand rubbing down your back in an attempt at comforting you.

It’s useless, though.

Andrea’s sobs filter through the air as a heavy silence overcomes the rest of the group, each and every one of them consumed with the weight of what they’ve lost.

──────────────────

tag list (lmk if you want to be added/ if you're not actually being tagged you might have to check the settings on your page):

@stawvberrymilktae / @vilaneiie / @letxhyng / @fnicolpcab / @redneckstrash / @dixonarchives / @howlerwolfmax / @spenciepoo338 / @luvelyxp / @quietly-scrolling-through / @btsiguess-kpop / @littledxve / @mich1551-blog / @anunstablefangirl / @furiousfandomenthusiast / @ineedmorefanfics2 / @justababygaysworld /

#daryl:the professional #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #gender neutral reader #young reader #carl grimes #glenn rhee #lori grimes #tdog #dale horvath #carol peletier #sophia peletier #zombie apocalypse #platonic fic

309 notes · View notes

weirdmarioenemies · 3 years ago

Text

Name: Mechakoopa

Debut: Super Mario World

So a very polite anon has humbly requested we write a post about Mechakoopa! They are apparently this person's favorite, so today's their lucky day! See I don't like to brag but, I'd definitely consider myself as part of the top 100 most qualified people to talk about Mechakoopas in the world! And who am I to turn down such a request?

Now the 90s you see, were a turning point for good Mr. Bowser here. With a brand new clown-helicopter thing to pilot around you might think he's all set, but what kind of self-respecting villain would he be without filling his evil lair with a number of Evil Wind-up Toys based on himself? So he does exactly that- a whole fourteen years before Mario stole his idea, mind you!

Yes, you read that right! Despite their name, Mechakoopas are tiny mechanical versions of Big Bowser himself, not just any run of the mill Koopa, which explains their green heads and funky hair! You know how Koopa is actually Bowser's Japanese name? Yeah! They could've localized them as Mecha-Bowsers, but Mechakoopa just flows nicer doesn't it? And he is still technically a Koopa!

"Yo, somebody rang?"

No!! Not you, Mecha-Bowser from Super Mario Sunshine (2002)!! You'll get your turn eventually! Geez! Anyway. Where was I. Oh! Yes!

This is the obligatory part of the post where I'm like “Get a load of this funky guy”! Get a load of this funky guy! Instead of reinterpreting Bowser’s design very literally in toy form, the Mechakoopa is very much its own beast, with its funny beak and little funny legs. Our aforementioned anon mentioned the wind-up key, and oh, what a wind-up key it is! And of course the raisin d’eclair- the fantastic little googly eyes! Oh where would we be without those googly eyes?

Naturally though, Bowser doesn’t just use his toys to populate his spooky castle- he always has to keep a few on his person! So he chucks them at you in the game’s final boss fight, but he didn’t account for the fact that, in this game only, Mario can throw upwards! Oh no! His one weakness! Being pelted with plastic!

By the by, I’ve always thought the original Mechakoopa sprite from Super Mario World looked super funky! The hair almost looks like its on fire! And I like the goofy grin.

The Super Mario World cartoon decided to interpret this sprite by turning him into a horrible little man. No, I don’t want this! He shouldn’t have arms!

The Mechakoopa’s next appearance in a mainline Mario platformer was in New Super Mario Bros. Wii, where they act... exactly the same as they do in Super Mario World! Cool! This basically established them as modern Mario enemies, but there isn’t much to say other than that!

Like all our posts about Common Mario Enemies, it would probably be boring if I just listed off their every appearance, so I will just bring up the ones that are worth mentioning. For example, Super Mario RPG! In this game, Bowser’s strongest special attack is Bowser Crush, which summons a giant Mechakoopa to stop on foes! According to the Player’s Guide, this Mechakoopa was a top secret weapon developed by Koopa researchers... to stomp flowers and scare butterflies! Wow! That is so so evil! These big guys would definitely live up to the name “Mecha-Bowser”!

“Hey guys, are you talking about me?”

NO, we are NOT talking about you, Mecha Bowser (with no hyphen) from Mario Kart: Double Dash (2003)’s Bowser’s Castle course! Get the heck outta here! Gosh, some people just don’t know when they’re not wanted!

I am sure after all this you are wondering, they may be mechanical toys but can they do math? The answer is yes obviously! This is Mechakoopa from Mario Party Advance, and they’re a mathematician! They invented Mechakoopa’s Theorem, the very real mathematical theorem that we all used in school! Everyone give them a round of applause!

I’d like to bring up their appearances in the Mario & Luigi games, not because it’s particularly notable, but because of how much I like their sprite and idle animation! Look at the wind-up key spin around and the eyes go up and down! So cute! Oh, and also because in the Superstar Saga remake they replaced the Mecha-Chomp enemies (may god rest their souls)!

Super Mario Maker 2′s final update was an epic win and a #1 victory royale for Mechakoopa fans anywhere, since it not only added Mechakoopas to all four main game themes, but also two brand new variants: the Blasta Mechakoopa (in red) and the Zappa Mechakoopa (in blue)!

As you might expect, they can Blast (missiles) and Zap (lasers) respectively! I’ve no idea why they added these random functionalities to Mechakoopas specifically, but they’re a lot of fun and some of the most unique projectiles in the game! Zappa? I barely know ‘a!

Oh, and I almost forgot! They are in Super Smash Bros. as well! Bowser Jr.’s moveset is a treasure trove of little references to Mario gadgets, and even though Bowser no longer tosses these guys from his Clown Car, his son has taken up the job! Only in this game, Mechakoopas explode. Uh oh! They didn’t do that before! Still, I really like popping a Mechakoopa out of its Mechakoopa Compartment just to see it wander around the stage. It’s fun!

Now that’s all I have to say about good old Mechakoopas, but I’d like to give a special shoutout to this guy in particular- the Micro Mecha-Bowser, from Super Mario Galaxy! For a long time, I assumed they were just Mechakoopas with a different design... But this definitely looks like a beefed up version of the Mechakoopa, with their big goofy teeth, their pig nose and their funky cross-hair eyes! These dudes can breathe fire too, so they really are more like Bowser! And if there’s a Micro Mecha-Bowser, there’s gotta be a normal one!

“Whassup? I heard somebody call my name!”

Harumph! Nobody called you, Mecha-Bowser from Super Mario Galaxy (2007)’s Toy Time Ga- Er... hold on a second. You actually are exactly the person I was talking about after all! My mistake! Though I do wish you’d at least give us a heads up when you’re gonna show up, given you’re the size of a small planetoid!

Yeah, the Micro Mecha-Bowsers are named after this big robot from Toy Time Galaxy, Mecha-Bowser (not to be confused with Mecha-Bowser or Mecha Bowser)! Though I have to say, there isn’t much family resemblance! He’s so blue and un-turtle like! Still, this must’ve been my favorite mission in Galaxy as a kid- I’d replay it over and over again just because the idea of climbing on a giant planet-sized robot and dismantling it piece by piece was so cool! It was like Shadow of the Colossus before I knew what the heck that was!

Well that’s about the extent of the Mechakoopa family. Isn’t it fun? There’s a moral to be learned here, and it’s that, uh... little wind-up toys are very charming! Um, I suppose. Look, writing conclusions is hard!

Mechakoopa

#mario #mario enemies #mechakoopa #micro mecha-bowser #super mario world #mod f boy

511 notes · View notes

queenofbaws · 2 years ago

Note

So i know that it's such an obvious choice but I wanna see some “you’re so dumb.” [insert fond smile here] with chrashley, but with Chris saying that to Ashley instead of the other way around lol

definitely more than six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

Outside the lodge, the wind had stopped screaming. That didn’t mean it had stopped altogether – it hadn’t – but now it was little more than the occasional whistle rattling its way down the chimney and into the fireplace, making the weak flames shudder and dance. It was a far cry from the storm they’d run through before, and now that the place was finally starting to warm up, their faces were left tingling in the same way their ears rang; in absence of the cold, in absence of the noise.

The grandfather clock upstairs gonged to sound the hour, but neither had it in them to count. Off in the kitchen, Sam was rummaging around, opening and closing cabinets, but neither had it in them to get up and help.

Numbness had taken hold, and it showed no signs of letting go.

They sat huddled on the couch, ruining the upholstery as well as the hardwood with snow and mud and, in Ashley’s case, blood, leaving stains for the Washingtons’ to clean up instead of the other way around for once. Normally they would’ve been spread out, sure to keep a pillow or a pile of snacks between them…but now those anxieties seemed a lifetime away, so they slumped against one another as though personal space was only a myth that overrated authors wrote about in books. It was simply how they’d fallen after climbing out of the basement, and now that the cushions had bent beneath them, it seemed unlikely they’d move any time soon.

“You could’ve told me, you know.”

Chris hadn’t been anywhere near sleep, hadn’t even been in the same zipcode, but it still took a considerable amount of willpower to wrench his eyes from the fireplace. Something about those low, dim flames had lulled him into a calmer place, a softer one, and when he finally managed it, he found he couldn’t’ve looked Ashley straight-on if he’d tried. She’d set her head against the front of his shoulder, a spot that didn’t quite count as his chest, her cheek squished to the lining of his sweatshirt. It was the closest he could remember them ever being. Physically, anyway.

“I could’ve told you…?” he asked, clearing his throat when he heard the sandpaper rasp of it in his own ears. “What, that I thought Josh was ordering a lot of dead pigs lately? Suspected he was furnishing some sort of hands-on haunted house experience?”

Instead of laughing like she normally would’ve, Ashley yawned. Her eyes were shut, and from that angle he could see the delicate curve of her eyelashes laying on her cheeks. It wasn’t a view he got often. He tried to savor it…despite the way the left side of her face was quickly darkening with the purple-black bruise of a black-eye. “That you liked me.”

“Oh.” For once in his life, Chris saw no point in stammering through a denial or backpedaling to a safer distance; maybe he was just tired, maybe the fear of the night had snapped something somewhere in the back of his brain, maybe he’d just decided there wasn’t any point to it since Ash had curled up beside him and synched her breathing up to his. He didn’t even shrug, but that one was mostly because he didn’t want to disturb her. “I guess…I dunno. I figured you had to have known. You were just trying to let me down easy or whatever. Friendzoning by any other name.”

She did laugh that time, but it was small and tired and accompanied by the pressure of her arms wrapping around his middle. “Okay, um, wow. How was I supposed to know any of that, Chris? You gave me…literally no clues to work with.”

“I…okay, no, what?” Now that her arms were around him like that, he moved even less, refusing to risk her letting go. It took him a moment – mostly because he was just that sore – but he got his arm up onto the back of the couch, letting it hang around her shoulders in theory more than practice. “I have given you nothing but clues. My whole life has been clues, Ash. Whenever we’re hanging out, I’m pretty much blinking ‘I love you’ in Morse Code, so honestly, I don’t appreciate you sitting there saying I’ve been slacking in the clue department.”

“Oh my God,” she sighed, moving juuust so, giving him the barest peek of the exhausted smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “You’re so full of it.”

“Full of it? Okay. Full of it. I’m full of it,” he joked. “I’m sure you, like…get goodnight texts from all of your friends, then.”

“I mean…that doesn’t count.”

“It d…it doesn’t count.”

“No! Because, like…it doesn’t count as a goodnight text if it’s just you signing out of a late-night conversation. Then it’s just polite.”

Oh, he had to risk it. He had to. Chris pulled back a smidge, craning his head to try and meet her eye. She kept hers closed, but the way that smile kept twitching at her mouth made him think it was less because she was sleepy and more because she was embarrassed. “It’s just polite. Okay. All right. I’ll follow that logic if you’ll answer me this: How many late-night conversations are you having with people, then?”

“Depends.”

“Yeah, it depends! On a lot of stuff. Like…”

“Uh huh. Not…not like we’re having late-night conversations every night.”

Ashley was quiet for a beat, then nestled a little closer against him. “Not every night…”

“Okay,” Chris snorted. “Just three hundred and sixty-three out of the year. You’re right. No, you’re totally right – it’s not every night. Definitely not.” Slowly, very slowly indeed, he let his arm slide off of the couch and onto her shoulders, his hand sliding down to trace vague shapes against the side of her arm. “A-and I definitely never, y’know, asked you to Homecoming…”

“As part of a group.”

“Or Prom…”

“As part of a group.”

“Or came up with dumb excuses to just show up at your house for ‘homework assignments’ or ‘to borrow a book’ or ‘because I was just passing by and wanted to pet your dog.’”

Even though she probably couldn’t see all the air-quotes he was making with her eyes shut like that, Ashley giggled as though they were clear as day. “Those were all totally legit excuses, though!”

“Oh good God.”

“What? They were!”

“Jesus-pleezus. You are…” He rolled his eyes, still chuckling, and let his hand move up from her arm to tuck her hair behind her ear, a move he hadn’t even let himself daydream about before now. Part of him expected her to open her eyes at that, or shiver, or, or something…but she didn’t. If anything, she just relaxed another notch, not slumping against him so much as melting into him, and…and even though the windburn and cuts on his face smarted something terrible, he couldn’t help but smile. “You are just so dumb.”

“Hey!”

“No, you are,” he laughed, his fingers slowly carding through her hair. “You are just so, so dumb. Probably the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met, if I’m being honest. But you know what?”

He couldn’t say what had done it that time, but Ashley did open her eyes then, tilting her head a touch. “What?” she asked as she looked up at him, her laughter tapering to a soft, quiet sound in her nose.

“I didn’t exactly catch on that you liked me either, so…” He gave his other shoulder, the one she wasn’t resting on, a little half-shrug. “That probably makes me pretty dumb too.”

“Yeah, well…I think we all knew that,” she joked, and when he squeezed her just that much tighter, the tired smile that’d been trying to poke through finally took root, her face lighting up like a sunrise. The lodge seemed warmer than it ever had before.

#love-fireflysong #six sentence weekend #queenie writes supermassive #chrashley

13 notes · View notes

hollybollybingbong · 3 years ago

Text

Albus Dumbledore is the worst.

Albus Dumbledore was written to be a hero, and that's what makes him such a good villain. Almost everyone in the Wizarding World trusted him and thought he was so incredible and amazing, but in reality, he was playing a brilliant game of chess, using them all as his pawns.

How? Let's start from the beginning with Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore first met Tom when he was eleven, and even then, you could see the warning signs. Dumbledore did too. He saw that Tom was dangerous and unstable, and Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, wanted to give him a chance at Hogwarts.

But, Dumbledore, also, being Dumbledore, was the only one who saw who Tom really was, and only "kept an annoyingly close watch on him." He saw Tom Riddle, at the age of eleven saying "I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want," and did not think to do anything about it.

He said to Harry in Chamber of Secrets that, "help will be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," yet, here we have Tom Riddle, who desperately needed help, and did not get it. Could Dumbledore have prevented Tom Riddle from becoming who he was? I'm not sure. Could he have helped him more while he was at Hogwarts? 100%

Next up, Sirius (and a bit of Remus)

One thing I never understood while reading the books was why Sirius had to spend twelve years in Azkaban when there were literally potions that forced you to tell the truth.

The truth is, unsurprisingly, Dumbledore wanted him there. By keeping Sirius in Azkaban, there was no way he could adopt Harry (who was legally his), and ruin Dumbledore's perfectly thought out plan of manipulating Harry. Dumbledore was a high-ranking member of the Wizengamot, if he managed to get Snape off, he surely could've gotten Sirius free too.

But unlike Snape, and Remus, and Hagrid, and Harry, Dumbledore couldn't use Sirius. Remus was a werewolf with no job prospects in the Wizarding World, and no Muggle qualifications either. He spent twelve years alone, as he watched his friends die or get sent to Azkaban. But then here comes Dumbledore, who gives him a job and a home when no one else would. And suddenly, Remus is loyal to Dumbledore.

Hagrid, a half-giant, was kicked out of Hogwarts in his third year for something he didn't do. But Dumbledore comes along and suddenly Hagrid has a home and job, and owes it to Dumbledore, ensuring his loyalty.

Even Snape, Dumbledore saved him from a lifetime in Azkaban prison, securing his loyalty too.

But Sirius, Sirius was different. He saw right through Dumbledore and his manipulation. He was a rebel and chose his path. A path that didn't involve Dumbledore, which is why he was stuck in Azkaban for twelve years, despite him being innocent. Because him being around would've messed up Dumbledore's plan to raise Harry to die, because there is no way in hell that Sirius would've allowed that to happen.

Finally, Harry Potter, himself.

Harry escaped death at the age of one and then was essentially kidnapped by Hagrid on Dumbledore's orders. While there's no proof, surely James and Lily would've written a will, especially considering they were living through a war with their son being the target for the greatest dark wizard of all time. I believe that Dumbledore pulled some strings (because remember, he was a member of the Wizengamot, and despite not holding the title of Minister for Magic, he was as good as, especially considering how incompetent they were), so he could be in charge of Harry's living arrangements and manipulate him further. Sirius Black was his legal guardian, being godfather and all, and yet Hagrid had "orders from Dumbledore," so he got stuck with the Dursleys.

Harry grew up in this abusive home where he was unwanted, neglected, and bullied, so when he eventually finds out about the Wizarding World, he sees it as a home, a safe haven, away from the Dursleys. He feels grateful to the Wizarding World for saving him from them. And when he has to go back at the beginning of summer, it's a reminder that it can all be taken away, so when Harry has to sacrifice himself to save the world he's come to love so much, of course, he does! Because why wouldn't he? It's his home.

Dumbledore could've left Harry with Remus, or the Weasley's, or the Longbottom's, or literally any other family, but the Dursley's made Harry easiest to manipulate.

And before anyone mentions Lily's blood wards, Dumbledore says in Order of the Phoenix: "You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you."

There was no reason for Harry to grow up in an abusive household, isolated from the Wizarding World, but it made Harry an easier pawn to manipulate in Dumbledore's game.

Similarly, when Harry is in school, he rewards Harry's saviour complex through house points. In Philosopher's Stone, the trio very clearly go against McGonagall's orders and put themselves in dangerous situations to 'save the day.' But instead of facing any punishment, they are rewarded via the House Cup, and Dumbledore is buying Harry's loyalty.

It's always Harry being the one to put himself into dangerous situations, never Dumbledore. Chamber of Secrets, Harry and Ginny both nearly die, but oh, thanks to Dumbledore's phoenix the day is saved! But wait, wasn't Dumbledore there the first time the Chamber was opened? Was there nobody else in the entire Wizarding World who could fix this mess, without having to rely on a twelve-year-old???

Prisoner of Azkaban. Why were Harry and Hermione the ones to rescue Sirius? Why couldn't Dumbledore do it himself? Goblet of Fire. You're telling me the 'most powerful wizard in the world' couldn't break the magical contract? In all honesty, he probably could, but he said it himself, he wanted to see what would happen. He was using Harry as bait. McGonagall seems to be the only person who cares about this poor boy's life. And then we have Order of the Phoenix. Where Dumbledore isolates himself from Harry, gets Snape to teach him Occlumency instead of doing it himself, which leads to Sirius's death, which I believe was planned (to an extent).

And at the end of Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore comes 'clean,' saying that the reason he ghosted Harry for the entire year, was because 'he cared for him too much.' That he cared more about Harry's happiness than the safety of others, that he put Harry's life above the life of innocent people. He was telling Harry, who watched his godfather die in front of him, and blamed himself for it, that him being happy would lead to the deaths of others. Dumbledore's exact quote was, "What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy." And of course, Dumbledore said this, because he knows Harry has a tendency to sacrifice himself for others, and as a result, he'll choose to die when the time comes.

Dumbledore kept Harry's inevitable death from him for sixteen years, five while he was at Hogwarts. And guess what? By this point, Harry was wrapped so tightly around Dumbledore's little finger, and wouldn't say no even if he could.

Harry Potter was raised like a pig for slaughter, by a man he trusted. And this makes me so angry. Harry Potter was seventeen when he walked into the forest alone, more than willing to die. He was seventeen when he and his friends fought in a war against people twice their age. He was seventeen when he saw some of those friends for the last time, watched them die fighting a war that none of them had seen the start of.

He was fifteen when he watched his godfather die before him, and blamed himself for it. He was fourteen when he watched Cedric Diggory die at the hand of Voldemort. He was twelve when he had to fight a basilisk and Tom Riddle single-handedly while trying to save himself and eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley. He was eleven and having to find and protect the Philosopher's Stone, the first 'test' of many. He was a child battling an adult's war, with no choice in the matter.

Dumbledore manipulated them all, so he could get children to fight his battles for him.

#anti dumbledore #dumbledore bashing #dumbledore is a manipulator #i hate dumbledore #harry potter

245 notes · View notes

y0itsbri · 4 years ago

Text

shameless summer series - lifeguard au 🥽🩲🌊

debbie has her eye on the new lifeguard at the public pool. unlucky for her, said lifeguard already has his eye set on a different red-headed gallagher.

(think like s2 era)

also happy a.u.gust! @gallavichthings

words: 1.7k

"Debs, why do I gotta take you to the pool again this week? I thought you already fixed whatever was the problem with that blonde bitch," Ian whined, shoveling cereal into his mouth. Two tubes of sunscreen sat on the table in front of him.

"It's not about her anymore." Debbie retorted, like it was the simplest thing.

"Okay. Then what is it about?"

"Nothing!"

"Ask her boyfriend." Carl yelled over his video game in the living room, taking any opportunity to embarrass his sister.

Ian and Debbie's voices overlapped with a "Boyfriend?!" and "He's not my boyfriend-- Carl I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Debbie tossed a fork at Carl's head.

"Oh, now I'm definitely in," Ian laughed and winced before Debbie could throw a fork his direction.

The walk to the pool was relatively quiet aside from the rhythmic smacking of their sandals against the gravely pavement.

Debbie leapt a few strides, trying to outrun her shadow and failing each time. Ian chuckled, pulling the towel around his neck and swinging his keychain with the other hand.

Now that it was just the two of them, he tried again.

"Soooo," he drawled. "What's with this secret boyfriend?"

Debbie sighed. "He's not my boyfriend. Well, not yet."

"Hmm?"

"He's one of the new lifeguards since Justin got attacked by that dog last week."

Justin still owed Lip a beating for something or other so Ian was glad he didn't have to deal with Justin today, at least.

"You think this new lifeguard is a little too old for you?" Ian wondered.

Debbie shrugged. "Not like it matters much."

Ian couldn't argue with that logic. "I'll kick his ass if he bothers you, yeah?"

"Please. He doesn't even look at me. Even when I was fake-drowning." She skipped down the sidewalk, nearing the pool entrance.

Ian shook his head. His sister was something else.

After they set their towels down, Ian's eyes scoured the lifeguard chairs immediately. Too-tan-Toni, shrimp-speedo-Sam, and holy-fucking-shit. Was that Mickey Milkovich?

Ian hadn't let himself think about Mickey since he left town. But it was hard not to now that he was right in front of him again. Shit.

Mickey spread out across his chair, sunglasses low on his nose, watching the newcomers and he smirked before glancing back towards the pool. He blew his whistle and yelled at some kid to 'slow the fuck down unless you wanna bust your ass -- and I ain't fixing you up!'

Ian was brought back to the moment by Debbie's hands waving in front of his face. "Helloooo, earth to Ian! Sunscreen?"

Ian could've sworn he heard a chuckle coming from the direction of the lifeguard chair as he dug the sunscreen out of his shorts pockets. No. He was just being paranoid. His cheeks blushed regardless.

"Is that...?" Ian nodded his head towards the raven-haired man.

"Shhh!" Debbie slapped him on the arm. "Don't make it obvious!"

Ian rolled his eyes at her ridiculousness.

He covered Debbie's back and shoulders in the high resistance sunscreen before she took off towards the side of the pool with the diving board, eager to show off her skills.

He yelled after her. "Wait, fuck, Debs you forgot..." He glanced around.

His eyes definitely locked with Mickey's now.

Fuck.

Mickey hopped off his chair, waving his hand to dismiss his crowd of moon-eyed preteen girls and middle-aged women in scandalous bikinis. Ian would have shuddered at the thought if Mickey wasn't making a bee-line directly towards him.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuuuuuck.

"'Sup, man? Been awhile..." He smirked. "Raggedy Ann run out on ya?" Mickey bowed his leg out on his final step towards Ian, a little closer than he expected.

"Uhhh...." Real smooth, Ian. His words were bound to fail him again with the man in such close proximity to him, so he simply held up his bottle of sunscreen and shrugged.

"Toss it here," Mickey coolly demanded.

Ian was thoroughly confused, but threw it anyways. "What?"

"You heard me, Red. Turn around, I'll get your back."

"Protecting and serving the local ginger kids at the pool?" Ian joked weakly, finding his voice again.

Mickey huffed a breath. "Fuck the pigs. The only thing I'm protecting is your ass from a sunburn."

Ian was still confused as to why Mickey was offering to rub his back at a very public pool when he would have literally beaten his ass for looking his direction before.

All of Ian's thoughts subsided as he felt sturdy hands push the warming liquid around his shoulder blades, up his neck, then down his spine. Mickey's thumb digging deep into his muscles. He suppressed his urge to shiver despite the rising temperatures of the hot Chicago summer.

At least he thought he had suppressed it. A huff of air on the back of his neck said otherwise.

Mickey started pulling his hands away and Ian leaned back into them again. Mickey whacked the side of his head before tossing the bottle of sunscreen onto the chair in front of them.

"No free massages, man. Just sunscreen." Mickey licked the corner of his mouth and looked from the ground up to Ian's eyes.

He had to know how devious he looked. Ian didn't want to be presumptuous, but he just held eye contact.

"Unless," Mickey veered, slowly backing away, "the favor was returned in one way or another." He winked.

Ian stood, mouth agape as Mickey turned and waved again to the group of girls who still hadn't taken their eyes off of him. He hopped up onto his chair, whistle in mouth in no time like nothing had ever happened.

What the fuck was going on?

Ian spent the next few hours very much Not Looking At Mickey despite feeling a heated stare on him.

Even when he was having a breath-holding competition with Debbie, his brain couldn't stop the endless stream of Mickey Mickey Mickey.

After Debbie's third win, Ian felt like he was on the verge of passing out, so he returned to his towel, chugging his water bottle.

In a moment of weakness, he glanced at Mickey, only to find him already staring. Mickey tilted his head towards the main building and quietly dismissed himself to go on his break.

Ian knew.

He wasn't that stupid. He knew Mickey wanted him to follow. And he knew that it wouldn't be a good idea. All the while, his feet took him closer.

The building felt even hotter than the outside, the AC must've gone out and no one bothering to replace it.

This was a bad idea.

Ian was just about to turn around and leave when he heard the click of a lock.

"'Bout fuckin' time," Mickey stalked forward, eyes raking up and down Ian's body appreciatively.

Ian was putty.

He groaned as he let himself be pulled forward by the hips. "Didn't know you were a lifeguard?"

He sighed as Mickey toyed with the band of his shorts in between his tattooed fingers. His nails scraping dully against his sides.

"Dad got shanked. Family business went under. Had to go legal." Mickey's hands moved upwards as he raked his fingers through the sides of Ian's still-wet hair, gripping onto the back of his neck. Ian slid his own hands up Mickey's back, pushing his red tank top up with it, exposing his pale skin.

"Missed this." It was a whisper.

Ian attached his lips to the side of Mickey's neck briefly, tasting remnants of salt, chlorine, and sunscreen, before Mickey sunk down to his knees. Ian's hands were now gripping dark hair, and he was sure that the rocky pavement of the unfinished building had to be digging into Mickey's skin, but he made no sounds of discomfort.

Sure, he missed this, but he missed him more, not that he could say that.

On the walk home, the sun was hanging low in the sky and both Gallaghers' cheeks were sunburnt pink.

"Did ya have fun?" Ian asked, knocking his empty water bottle against the top of Debbie's head.

She scrunched her face up, but replied with some pep in her voice. "Yeah! Today the hot life guard actually looked at me! Maybe bringing you around was good luck."

No way in hell Ian was going to out Mickey to his little sister, let alone out himself. He put on a big-brother reassuring smile and changed the subject.

"Good luck for you maybe. I lost literally all of our competitions today!"

She giggled, "That was all skill, not luck. Frank's been helping me practice!"

Frank? Maybe Ian needed to spend a little more time at home. On the other hand, maybe it was a good thing Ian hadn't been spending a lot of time at home.

Ian left after dinner unannounced, taking his well-worn trail to the baseball dugouts.

When he approached the field, he noticed a small orange flame illuminating the man's face and a cloud of smoke fog through the chained fence. He smirked.

"Couldn't get enough the first round?" Ian taunted, announcing his presence as he leapt over the fence, an old habit.

"Fuck you, man," Mickey scoffed and blew his smoky breath in Ian's grimacing face.

"Oh I think you plan on it." He stepped closer.

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm," Ian plucked the cigarette out of Mickey's fingers. "Can't have you with bad lungs, then what will all the poor defenseless swimmers do without a capable lifeguard?"

"Let 'em drown," Mickey smacked Ian's cigarette out of his hands and closed the distance between them.

"It would crush your groupies to know you care so little," Ian murmured against his neck.

"This is a bad idea," Mickey breathed, tugging at Ian's crumpled shirt.

"The worst," Ian yanked his shirt fully off.

Mickey pulled back, eyeing Ian's now-bare back.

"Mmm, no sunburn. That would've ruined my plans." Mickey smiled smugly.

Oh shit.

Ian swallowed. He was already way too far off the deep end. Luckily for them both, Mickey knew how to swim.

#every time i write it gets slightly smuttier skskjfndkjnf #my posts #gallavich #a.u.gust #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #debbie gallagher #carl gallagher #ian x mickey #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction #shameless

148 notes · View notes

awesomerextyphoon · 4 years ago

Note

I love your writing. May I have Loki x Reader? The reader is a sweet, delicate dreamer. Loki has come to conquer the world. He saw her and wants her to become his Queen of Midgard. He kidnapped her. She pleads with him to let her go while she is tied to the bed. He caresses her hair and says she will love him (he doesn't want to use the scepter on her).

***Can I have White Reader x Loki, please? Loki just escaped from the Helicarrier. He saw the reader who is a sweet and innocent creature. Loki doesn't want her dead when he will start battle. Loki kidnaps her and locks her up to keep her safe. When he wins, Loki tells her that she will become his queen.***

Hi! I decided to combine the prompts and make the reader plus-sized. I hope you enjoy!

His Match

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Plus-Sized Female Reader

Summary: You’ve tried to live by your grandmother’s rule of being kind to others, even when the world gives you the middle finger. What if a Norse God decided reward you by becoming his Queen?

Word Count: 1,745

Rating: 18+/Mature

Warning: Kidnapping, Implied Dub/Non-Con, Angst, and some Violence

A/N: Thanks goes to the amazing @angrythingstarlight for beta reading this!

Loki was walking around New York City, scouting Stark Tower making sure the final preparations of his plan was perfect when something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

She walked out of what looked like a women’s clothing store with a forlorn smile. She was plumper than the average female Midgardian last time he frequented the realm. His eyes did not miss the enticing curves that lied beneath her clothes despite her efforts to ensconce herself into the background.

She was a vision.

Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments and it felt like time stopped. His heart quickened in his chest and a rush of blood surged to his groin.

He had to follow her. His Elskan.

“Barton, tell the others I’ll be out for a few more hours. Proceed as planned.”

–––––

He found you entering a rather destitute apartment complex. Its lights and foundation were a bit unsound and gave off a seedy ambience.

Loki grimaced at her living conditions. When he ruled Midgard, she would have only the best.

Casting a simple concealment spell, Loki entered her fairly small apartment. She began mixing ingredients together for what looked to be ‘chocolate chip cookies’. He smiled as he inhaled the sweet aroma knowingly; Asgard had only recently started consuming the sweet. She soon laid out a batch of thick, scrumptious cookies with a satisfied expression.

They reminded him of better times when he and Thor would sneak into the kitchens and swipe confections from under the baker’s nose. Loki chuckled at the memory; those were the days.

Not ten minutes after she placed the last cookie onto the cooling rack did her phone ring. It was her mother. Loki felt dread coming off his Elskan in waves.

Loki could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation, if you could call it that. Her mother constantly nagged her about her weight, life choices, and her ‘pathetic’ attempts to get over her ex-boyfriend. His heart broke as he saw tears begin to fall and the croaking of her voice as she bid the odious creature goodnight.

Several minutes after she cried herself to sleep, Loki entered his Elskan’s bedroom. He spied her diary on the nightstand and decided to read a few pages.

He was fuming within two minutes.

How dare that caustic pig sow treat his Elskan, her own daughter, in a such ghastly manner! Her ‘perfect’ sister always slighting and reminding her on how ‘she’ll never be good enough for anything’ and her father’s callous indifference to her cries for help and solace only added to his rage. Combined with the way her ex-boyfriend, the repugnant gnat, treated her (he cheated on her with someone who ‘wasn’t built like a blimp’ and ‘the only thing you thing you had going for you were your tits’) and he wanted to speed up the invasion just to watch the horror become engrained onto their faces.

And yet, she endeavored to treat everyone with kindness harkening back to your grandmother. She strived to be the one light in one’s otherwise miserable existence.

Well, she can be his light as his Elskan and Queen.

Loki took a deep, cleansing breath. He needed to stick to the plan. When he conquers Midgard, she will be their queen. She will grace the undeserving masses with her elegance and beauty and he will worship her every chance he got.

He just had to make her see it that way.

Gently, the light forest green glow of Loki's magic flowed from his hand to the crown of her head like a halo. He leaned in and kissed her cheek with a smile as he left.

He hated to leave her, but he had a realm to conquer. Though he hoped she’d enjoy the introductory gift.

––––––

You were in your grandmother’s living room; spacious yet comfy with all of her quirkiness and splendor included. It was odd since you haven’t been in her house since your parents sold after her death seven years ago. You tearfully smiled remembering all the good times you had with her, the only member of your family you gave you any true warmth or love.

Her piano was in the corner, barely aged a day with all the music sheets, pens, a light scratches you came to know and love. You took your seat and started to play the piano version of one of your favorite movie themes.

You were so engrossed in playing, you failed to notice someone materializing into your dreamscape.

“What a lovely tune! What is it called?” A smooth, honey-tinged voice broke your concentration.

You turned your head and saw what had to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was tall (6’ 10” / 2.08m) easily towering over any man you’ve ever met. He had smooth alabaster skin, light rose undertones with a little blue-red just under his eyes. His cheekbones were immaculate, somehow looked sharp and soft at the same time. He had thin lips with a fair plumpness to the bottom one. His slicked-back, shoulder-length Ponzu/Shadow Purple hair kissed his lean, battle-hardened physique (if the way he’s filling out his outfit was anyway to go by). All of this deliciousness was clothed in a casual Palm Green suit with a Glossy Black tie and shoes.

It took you a full minute to stop ogling him, “Wha-What did you say?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady. I asked what you were playing.” His voice had hints of mirth which was odd considering his appearance. Most people in his league would give you a thinly veiled sneer of disgust, but he seemed genuinely interested.

“Um, well, it’s called Merry-Go-Round of Life from the movie Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a favorite of mine. I used to play it all the time until…” You trailed off, not wanting to revisit how your grandmother died.

“You do not have to tell me if it brings you such displeasure.”

“Thank you, um…”

“Loki. Please, call me Loki.”

“Loki,” he inwardly moaned at the way you said his name, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Please, continue playing.”

And you did for what felt like hours, all while your sexy dream companion asked about your hopes, dreams, anything he could think of really. You in turn asked him about his life and interests; you even laughed at a story of his brother having to dress like a bride to get his hammer back.

You soon became enamored with Loki. It was refreshing to be noticed with actual interest, not ridicule or pity. He seemed to taken with you as well, if his gentle caresses and not-so-subtle lustful glances he gave you were any indication.

You were glad this was just a dream. You didn’t want your heart to break like last time.

Loki was about to lean in for a kiss when everything faded to black.

–––––

You jolted up from the mattress and screamed once you realized you weren’t in your room.

No, this room was…spectacular for lack of better word. It had high ceilings, large windows, ornate chandeliers, and magnificent balcony. Luxurious dark greens, gold, and black covered the room in splendor. Extravagant pieces of furniture dripped with precious stones metal worthy of queens or royal mistresses of old.

“What is this place?”

You tried to leave but was forced back onto the bed by a force field. You tried to take calm breaths just like your therapist taught you in order to make an escape plan.

No sooner did you calm down than the door open to reveal-

“Loki!”

Only Loki was wearing radically different clothing; looked like he walked right out of a fantasy epic. And yet, his smile was enchanting.

“What am I doing here? I need to go back home.”

He tutted in response, “That would not be wise, Elskan Mín. This world is mine now and this is safest place to be.” He was right. His brother’s team of desperate souls were no match for his cunning and Chitauri Forces. Midgard’s pathetic leaders gave up in less than an hour once their beloved ‘heroes’ were defeated, broken, and laid bare before them.

“You can’t be serious, Loki. I need to leave.”

“And go where? Like I said, this realm is mine now. That rat poison of a dwelling is no more and I have dealt with your ‘family’ as needed.” Loki smirked at the memories. It gave him extreme joy squeezing the life out of that worthless pig of mother, breaking every bone in your father’s body one by one, and leaving your ‘perfect’ sister alive with partially rotten skin. Not even the scavengers or maggots would find or want the remains of the scurvy insect of an ex-boyfriend, though he was still alive..just barely.

Well, at least until he decided on how to destroy the blight of creature.

Though he did make sure to leave two of your real friend were treated well. You needed to have someone to talk to while he was away.

You gazed into his Spearmint colored eyes in one last attempt, “Please Loki! If you love me, you’ll let me go!”

For a split second, you could’ve sworn you saw hurt in his eyes and he glided across the room. You back hit the headboard in you sad efforts to get away from him.

“Elskan Mín, I promise to always love, cherish, and worship every part of your glorious body. You will become Midgard’s queen and my goddess. No. One. Will. Ever. Demean. Or. Slight. You. Again.” he punctuated each word of the last sentence with soft, open-mouthed kisses to your face, neck, shoulders, and collarbone.

You tried to fight him, but it felt so good. His touches sent shots of lightning to your core; plus his lips and fingers were cook to the touch provided excellent contrast to the spike in heat.

You started crying realizing how pathetic this was, to have the first person to profess such feelings be a kidnapper. You were actually contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth.

Loki sensed your sorrow and kissed your tears away. “I know this might be ‘difficult’ at first, but you will love me in time.” He hoped he did not have to use the scepter.

You thought about your dream and all of the effort he was putting into this. It was frightening, but it came from a place of love.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.

–––––––

@lookiamtrying @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @jobean12-blog @sweeterthanthis @gotnofucks @mcudarklibrary@saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @navegandoaciegas @stargazingfangirl18 @opheliadawnwalker3 @tilltheendwilliwritee @imanuglywombat @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @navybrat817 @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @nacho-bucky @donutloverxo @stephanieromanoff @threeminutesoflife @angrybirdcr @angrythingstarlight @chixkencxrry @hurricanerin @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil @captain–barnes @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thebanprincess @winteralpine @leslie2898 @buttercandy16 @propertyofpoeandbucky @hevans-angel @thorfanficwriter @afriendlyblackhottie @avintagekiss24 @syntheticavenger @phant0m-queen @tuiccim @blueberrythor @river-soul @justthehiddleswrites @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

#loki (marvel)#loki x reader #marvel loki x reader #dark loki #loki x female reader #loki x plus-sized reader #mcu imagine #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu au #loki imagines #loki imagines angst #mcu fanfiction #his match #oge answers #tom hiddleston

604 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Strictly Professional

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: HUMOR, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A slip of the tongue leads Corpse to make an unexpected confession which leads to him getting lectured by his best friend. That’s all you need to know, the rest shall unfold before your eyes.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request! I’m so sorry it’s been so long overdue but here it finally is and I really hope you come across it and read it. If so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

I’ve buried my head under my arms, resting it on my desk as my ears are still violated by the hollering coming from my headset. I don’t know what in me snapped out of nowhere or what caused the slip-up, but what matters is that it happened and now I’m in some hot water. I’m practically the soup everyone in this Discord call at the moment will be eating for dinner tonight, getting a real kick at my expense - some even having the audacity to be mad at me over it - ahem, Rae, ahem - but bottom line: I won’t live this down easily.

“Hey everyone! What did I miss?“ Sykkuno, who was running late and missed this entire debacle makes an appearance. If it were any other occasion, I’d be overjoyed to hear he’s finally joining us, but his question of what he had missed renders me only able to cringe and wait for my friends’ next move.

“Sykkuno!“ Rae exclaims ecstatically, “Oh, strap in, imma tell you what you missed...“

“No, you won’t tell him, Rae.“ Toast cuts her off, sounding uncharacteristically serious, especially when taken into account how hard he was laughing just a moment ago, “This is Corpse’s tale to tell, don’t spare him the shame of telling it one more time.“

And just when I thought this fucker would prove himself to be a true friend...

“Oof, this sounds serious...“ Sykkuno says to fill the silence I purposely let linger just so I don’t give these bullies the satisfaction of hearing my embarrassment all over again even though they inevitably will.

“It is...“ I sigh with a heavy heart, hiding my face in the palm of my hand, “It’s really bad and embarrassing and...I’d rather not retell it at all let alone for a second time, but here it goes...“ I inhale as much air as I can as a method of gaining confidence before I start talking, “So you know MGK and I made a song. Yeah well, we’re gonna be making a music video for it and I asked Rae to be in it. Thing is, I wanted to ask Y/N first. Buckle up, this is where it starts going downhill: ok so I went over to their place so we could just chit chat an marathon a few movies like we usually do over the weekends but I also wanted to bring up the whole ‘hey, wanna be in my music video’ thing but didn’t know how. Mind you, we were drinking beers this whole time, might’ve had a few too many actually. Ok, we definitely had a few too many, but back on track: as I was blabbering and stumbling over my words, nervous as all hell and unable to string the simple question inside my head, all Y/N did was tilt their head and smile at me. You know, the odd thing is it was a genuine smile, not a drunken grin like you’d expect from someone on their fourth beer bottle. And then, out of the blue, they had the audacity to hit me with: ‘You’re so cute’ and I just sat there frozen for a few seconds. I mean, my reaction was on point - who wouldn’t react like that if their crush told them they found them cute. Anyway - I was like ‘what?’ and then, out of an even bluer blue, they freaking kissed me. I nearly had a heart attack damn it!“

“And he never asked them to be in the DAYWALKER music video!“ Rae clearly couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I didn’t get the time! I was out of there in the blink of an eye!“ I bark, feeling my face heating up with embarrassment and regret. God, I should never ask how stupid I can get because I keep surprising myself in the end with just how far my stupidity goes. It’s fucking insane.

“Oh God, poor Y/N.“ Sykkuno sighs, sounding only a tiny bit as though he’s about to laugh. I appreciate his self-control honestly, the rest of these fuckers were dying laughing as though our friends and my crush kissing me and me responding like I had an allergic reaction was the best joke to ever be told.

“Poor Y/N?“ I snap a little, “What about me?“

“Yeah, poor Y/N!“ Rae backs Sykkuno up, “Poor Y/N and poor me for the missed opportunity to me in a music video for a song of one of my best friends with another one of my best friends. Corpse, you better fix this!!“

“How?!“ I’m aware I sound desperate but I seriously wanna fix it just have no idea how to go about it. I mean, if this looney group of nine people over here don’t come up with a plan no one will so not all hope for me is dead just yet. Even if we all had only one braincell we’d still be able to figure it out - I mean, ten braincells ain’t as bad as it sounds. Truth be told, Y/N’s the real brain of the group and they’d most definitely be able to help me - so fuck the irony.

“Call them.“ Sykkuno suggests so casually as though it’s a no-brainer. I’d go as far as to say his nonchalance almost made me laugh. Has he forgotten who he’s talking to?

“No way.“ I turn that down real quick, unable to even imagine the course of that phone call without cringing.

“No, Sykkuno’s right, call them right here right now. Ask them to star in the music video and then swerve the conversation to that kiss.“ Charlie’s suddenly decided to join the torturing being preformed upon me over here.

“What will I even say? I have no idea what to tell them!“ I complain, aware that I sound like a tantrum-throwing toddler but it’s really not my fault.

“Corpse. Corpse dear, listen to me, follow each word I say really carefully, ok?“ Rae asks, her voice now pitched as though she’s addressing an actual child. Yeah, that’s her well-known way of mocking me. “How about you say the actual fucking words. You know: ‘Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?’“

I sigh, clearly defeated.

I pull out my phone, muttering to the crowd I’m about to speak in front of to be quiet as I put the ringing call on speaker, sweating like a pig the whole time. The room has risen in temperature and this hoodie has thickened, providing more warmth that’s more suffocating than comforting when it’s a hundred degrees outside. Or when I’m about to talk to my crush after THAT incident.

“Hello?“ Y/N’s voice on the other side rips me from my thoughts’ grasp, reminding me I’m on a mission.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?“ I reply a little too quickly. Not giving them the time to reply with anything, I continue: “Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?“

DAMN IT WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY IT WORD FOR WORD?!?!

“Oh....“ They sound confused - and rightfully so - but then regain their composure finally, “I-I’d love to. Thanks for the opportunity, Corpse. I’m so happy you’ve made it so far. I’d be honored to be in the music video.“

Ok, that’s partial relief. Now - time for the second phase of this plan

“Uh....“ and there goes my whole vocabulary out the window, “You’re welcome.“

“Cool...cool...“ they mutter awkwardly, clearly looking for a way to end the call, “Um, by the way...this is strictly professional, right?“

No! No it’s not! Of course it isn’t! I’ve been head over heels for you for a year now, damn it!

“Of course, o-of course it is. No worries.“ I reply, once again, a little too quickly. Faster than I could’ve prevented it.

“Ok cool...well, text me the details....“ They once again trail off, hoping I’ll catch the hint.

And so I succumb.

“Will do.“ I sigh, “See ya.“

“See ya.“ They reply and hang up.

I’m left there staring at my phone screen with utter self-disappointment and frustration that’s so intense I cannot even express it in any way.

The whole lobby is at a loss of words too - all nine of them astonished by my stupidity. Fortunately though, Charlie is quick to pull himself together and speak up because God forbid Charlie ever falls speechless, then we’d be SERIOUSLY in danger.

“Corpse. You. Are. The. Biggest. Fucking. Idiot.“

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari

257 notes · View notes