#always singing in the back of your mind : the fates | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

catsteeth · 3 months ago

Text

Cold Steel Hot Skin

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Stark Reader

+:✿ Request ✿:+ : part 2 - part 3

Request: “Jacaerys and FemStark!Reader have been betrothed during the whole war. Team Black wins the war and Rhaenyra is crowned queen. After Jace and the Reader are married, the night is filled with celebration. Reader pulls Jace away and gives him head while he's sitting on the throne. Sub!Jace with lots of praise and reassurance.” CW: MDNI, SMUT, oral sex (m rec), afab reader, arranged marriage, NSFW themes, misogyny, mention of death, praise, sub jace, dom reader, mention of parental death.

Word Count: 5k

You were prepared to marry a high-born son, you were prepared for it all your life. You were taught how to make a man happy. Watch your tongue, speak little, and never your mind. Do whatever your husband commands of you, give no resistance. Smile and stay amenable. Only you were not your mother's idea of a perfect wife by nature.

No, you were raised alongside your brothers. You favored horse riding to sewing, archery to singing, and hunting to practicing your courtesies.

However as the threat of war drew closer, the need for the North’s strength grew more desperate. The house of the dragon did not know whose head ruled it. Aegon the drunken prince or Rhaenyra the king's firstborn. Both the greens and the blacks came to your brother, Cregan Stark who now ruled as warden of the north. They wanted the North's strength to earn their power.

Cregan only bent his knee to Rhaenyra after he spoke with Prince Jacaerys. The men were similar in age and he felt the Prince would be better suited to the throne than his uncle.

Though armies and power are not handed to anyone for free, in return for the North’s support, Cregan asked that his sisters be considered for one of the Queen's sons to wed, or perhaps one of his brothers for one of her nieces.

You hoped desperately that you would be spared from this fate. You never had any interest in men or marriage. Your septa’s always told you to obey your husband. That if you didn’t perhaps he would hit you, or take you by force. Honestly, you feared a husband, they sounded like horrid creatures.

It took time to hear back, but soon a raven arrived. It said what you feared it might. The crowned prince himself would take the north’s eldest daughter to wed.

You practiced holding your tongue and putting on a smile. You found it easy not to speak, speaking would do you no good anyway. But forcing a smile was a difficulty.

You fidgeted with the beaded embellishments of the embroidery on your dress. Biting your cheek you stood by the door of your house's great hall. Listening to your brother and the prince speaking. “My prince, my sister Lady Stark.”

You looked at the prince cautiously. Though he was not as frightful as you thought he might be. He was quite handsome. But that did not mean he was kind. You curtseyed as you were taught to do hundreds of times. “I hope I do not disappoint you, my prince.” You spoke in a higher and softer tone than you did naturally.

Jace took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, “You could never, my Lady.”

He seemed gentle, and kind.

Your fears did not rest, however. He was kind in front of you brother, a large and imposing man. That did not mean he would be kind when away from peering eyes.

The ride in the carriage felt uncomfortable. You were frightened by him in honesty. You knew that you would wed a high-born man but never did you think you’d marry a prince, and never did you think you would become a queen.

You were unsure of him, unsure of what he was like. Would he hit you? Would he yell? He was to be the king, surely he could do whatever he liked.

Your unease only worsened when your eyes fell back onto him, noticing that he was still looking at you.

As soon as he noticed your uneasy gaze, he smiled to himself and looked down “I apologize I am staring.” he said shaking his head.

You shrugged, “That’s alright. I am to be yours by law, you may stare at me if you wish to.” You were trained for this moment, this was your first willing submission.

Jace’s eyes looked up at you, his gaze narrowed at you in confusion, “I do not own you, my Lady.” He leaned forward towards you, “If I do something to displease you I wish to know.”

You felt surprised, not only was this man willing for you to be your own person but he encouraged it. He wanted you to be a participant in his life and this marriage.

You took a breath, then dropped your doe-like expression. Replacing it with your natural stern demeanor, common in the North. “Why are you staring at me?” You asked plainly now in your natural tone. It made Jace smile. “If I do truly disappoint I have other sisters-”

“You do not. I did not lie.” Jace interrupted you, it almost made you flinch. Perhaps you were too bold with your words. Though his eyes softened towards you, letting you relax in the warmth of his gaze. “I do not want your sisters or any other woman.” Once again he surprised you. How could he say such a thing when he did not know you? Even if he believed you to be the most beautiful woman in the world, for all he knew you could have been the most cruel woman alive. “I am staring because I am taken by you.” He finished with a soft grin.

You blushed slightly. Feeling a grin beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth, you looked away from him. “You do not know me.” You said, shaking your head.

Jace chuckled to himself, “You are skeptical. I know that now.”

You smiled slightly at his amusement, “People should be.” you said with a raised brow.

He smiled as he bit his lip, “And now I know you are intelligent.” he said with a nod.

You could not hide your smile this time. You scoffed a laugh as you looked outside your carriage, noticing the large green beast in the sky flying above you. “I thought you would be on your dragon.” You said looking towards Vermax in the sky.

“I wanted time to speak plainly with you, and Vermax is not yet big enough for two,” Jace said earnestly. You felt yourself beginning to relax in his presence.

You looked back to Jace, “Not sure how I would fare on a dragon's back.” you said with a stifled laugh.

“I think you’ll do fine considering you’re a skilled horse rider,” Jace said with a smirk as your eyes widened.

Once again this prince had surprised you. You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned in forward, “You do know about me.”

Jace smiled, stifling a laugh as he looked down, “I confess I might have read quite a bit about your family before coming here.” He looked back at you, “And then I found that I was reading quite a bit about you.” He said as if he were admitting a great secret.

He was not lying either. When prompted with the offer of marriage, Jace was hesitant. He even suggested wedding his little brother Joffrey to one of your younger sisters. But once he began to read of your family, he found himself wanting to know more and more about you. He found himself fascinated by you, and once there was nothing left to read about you he decided he’d rather marry you.

You felt heat dash across your cheeks as your blush revealed how much he’d flattered you. “A dull read for a Prince, I am sure.”

He shook his head, “Far from it.” He said earnestly, his eyes looking at you as if you were a beautiful and extravagant painting.

You and he talked the entire ride to the ship to Dragonstone. He continued to ask you questions about yourself throughout the ride. You did not ask him any in return. You did not know what to ask, what could you ever have in common with a prince?

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Once at Dragonstone, most of your days were spent completing errands for the queen, or if you were lucky, sharing a thought or opinion at the small council. She thought it was important for you to participate as you were to be queen one day.

You also spent much of your time avoiding the prince. You caught him staring at you many times, and his gaze lingered on you as you walked through a room.

But you hardly had a moment alone to yourself. You had nary a moment to ride a horse, practice your swordplay, or even read. So once you were able to be alone, you decided to practice your archery. Although you did not know that the prince also shared that desire.

At The top of a tall hill, was a training field. It had tall wooden targets made specifically for practicing your arrow's aim. As you made your way up the steep path to the top, you were caught off guard by the sound of an arrow hitting a wooden target that stood mere inches from where the path ended.

You continued up the path, peering behind the wooden target to see Jace pointing his crossbow at that same target. “My prince.” You said calmly despite his aim.

“My Lady!” Jace said surprised, and pointing the crossbow away from you, “My apologies.”

“No need.” You shrugged, “I am not maimed.”

He stifled a laugh, “I should hope not.”

You approached the wooden target, looking at the arrow that had pierced it with clear ferocity as the wood splintered and broke from the impact, “That’s quite the shot.” You said as your fingers trailed along the arrow.

“Thank you-”

You leaned against the wooden target, “Whom did you imagine it to be?” you asked looking back toward Jace.

Jace hesitated unsure if he should say, “A green.” You could tell by his tone he was holding back the truth.

“Liar.” You said with a grin. Jace looked at you surprised, never had anyone dared question him other than his family. It was refreshing to have you challenge him, “I am sure it was a green but it was more personal than that.” You said pushing yourself off of the wooden target and walking towards Jace.

“Aemond Targaryen.” He said almost immediately. You stopped your steps, feeling somewhat guilty you forced him to divulge such a personal matter. You knew of what happened to his brother.

You looked at him gently, “Aemond should be frightened.” You said earnestly.

“They all should be.” He said, attempting to direct his attention towards anything else, “My mother's armies are fierce and unrelenting.”

“As are you.” You said softly as you continued to walk closer toward him, “Grief is a powerful thing, the want for vengeance even more so.”

Jace felt emotion getting the better of him. But seeing as he was to marry you, he might as well feel able to confide in you, “I miss him.” Jace said weakly.

You were silent for a moment. Unsure of how you could comfort him. But soon you spoke, “I lost mine own sister.” Jace looked at you, “She too was younger than I.” You said with a nod stepping towards him, “I am sure you read about it. It was the cold that took her. The cold wind brings sickness. It makes us northerners stronger, we suffer each sickness so that we never suffer them again.” You stopped speaking for a moment, unsure of how you could continue your story, “But for those who are too weak, too small, too fragile… The cold wind kills them.” You looked at Jace with understanding, another name for love, “I spent years angry at any gust of cold air I felt. I cannot imagine how you feel. To have a face and a name to place that anger.” Jace only looked at you, he never had someone who could understand him so well. He didn’t have the words. But you didn’t need them. You approached him, getting close to his side as you adjusted his grip on his crossbow. “You should hold the stock closer to your shoulder.” you said pushing it to the correct position for him.

Jace looked over his shoulder to you, “I think I am in love with you.” He spoke earnestly, and softly.

You looked back at him, “I know you are.” you spoke as earnestly as he did.

Jace dropped his crossbow. He put your face into his hands, cupping your jaw gently. He looked at you for just a moment. He was going to ask for your permission to kiss you but you pressed your lips to his before he could. “I don’t know how I was ever frightened by you.” You smiled as he stifled a laugh and kissed you again.

You and he from that moment forth, were nearly inseparable.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

After the war was fought and over, the Blacks were victorious in their goal to retake Rhaeynra’s rightful throne. Blood was shed of course, but now that it was done with it was time for celebration. And what better way to celebrate than for a royal wedding?

Your gown was heavy, and although you had little regard for fashions even you could appreciate how beautiful it was.

You never thought you’d feel so proud to wear another man's cloak, adorned with the symbol and colors of his house. But you wore the black and red three-headed dragon on your shoulders with great pride and honor.

Your pride did not subside the whole evening. After your vows and kiss were performed, you and your now husband danced in the great hall as the rest of the guests ate, sang, and danced about the room.

Jace held you closely as you danced slowly. Your eyes locked onto his, and both of you were simply dazed with happiness and love. “My husband, the dragon.” You said sweetly with your forehead pressed against his.

Jace’s hand ran over your hair gently, careful not to disturb your intricately braided hair, “My wife, the wolf.” He said with a proud and love-drunk smile.

Your eyes roamed the room, you could see each high-born girl looking at you with jealous eyes. It made you grin, “I think I have made every girl in the seven kingdoms green with envy.” you said leaning into Jace, your eyes still scanning the room.

“And I have driven every man to a jealous rage.” He said with an amused smile as his eyes roamed the room as well.

“Because you’ll be king over them all.” You said gently as you closed your eyes, laying your head against his shoulder.

He leaned in closer to your ear, “Because I’ve married the most beautiful, intelligent, and fierce woman in the known world.” He said sweetly.

You raised your head from his shoulder, looking into his eyes. You could see the love he had for you just by his look. You did not care if it would be considered polite or not, your lips pressed against his own. He did not care either. His hand held you at the nape of your neck.

“Daughter,” A voice called out, it startled you slightly. Daughter was a title you had not been called in years now with your parent’s cold in the crypt. You looked over to see the Queen herself. Rhaenyra looked towards her son, still holding tightly onto you. “Might I have a moment, Jace?” Jace nodded and gave you a small kiss on your temple before leaving you and your mother to speak.

Rhaenyra took you by the arm, walking around the ballroom. “Well, I know your mother could not be here today and I suppose I wanted to give you a word of motherly advice. Political marriage can be a difficult thing to adjust to.” She said with a sigh, “Though it seems my son has had no difficulty in that regard, nor you.” She finished as she looked at you with a warm smile.

You smile back at her, though feeling somewhat embarrassed, “Your son is an honorable man, and I am honored to be his wife.” You said with a nod.

She rubbed your arm gently with her hand, “I have no doubts you will serve our house well.”

“I can only hope so. Your house has been most gracious-”

“Your house.” She corrected you, “It is your house now, my dear.”

You did not know what to say, you’d not felt a motherly touch in so long. “Thank you, your grace.” You said with a smile and respectful nod.

“Seven blessings to you, my dear.” She said smiling, before leaving you.

Afterward, you tried your best to reunite with your new husband, only he was nowhere to be found. As you walked around the great hall you were approached by many guests, all high-born lords and ladies who never paid you any mind before today. They all congratulated you with great respect and spoke oh so highly of you and your family. No doubt attempting to gain favor in the eyes of their future queen. Between this sudden overbearing attention, you now could not help but notice how grand this wedding was. It was far more extravagant than any wedding in the north had ever been.

You drowned your nerves with wine. But you wouldn’t feel any better until you found Jace again.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Once the party was dying out like an exhausted candle, you were determined to find Jace once again.

Somewhat angry and somewhat concerned you attempted to hunt down the prince without causing concern. Soon you were pushing open the large heavy doors to the throne room.

Pushing the door open just enough to look in, you signed as you saw your husband standing in the room staring at the throne.

“I thought you ran away.” You said pushing the doors to the Throne room open.

Jace looked over his shoulder at you and held out his hand towards you, “From the festivities. Not from you.”

You grabbed hold of his hand, “I was quite miserable without you.” You said in annoyance with a pout as he pulled you into his side.

His hand trailed up and down over your back soothingly, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you, I won’t again, I swear it to you.” He said as his hand then snaked around your waist holding you even closer.

You nodded in agreement, “The celebration was generous, far more generous than I am used to.” You said trying not to sound ungrateful. Your fingers trailed over the lavish embroidery of dragons and fire on Jace’s overcoat. “I was happy to hear there would be no bedding ceremony,” you said casually just to tease him, your eyes still following your finger as it traced the intricate stitching of his coat.

Jace’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, “You think that I would allow that?” He said with a slightly aggressive tone as he held you by your chin forcing you to look at him, “Allowing men to paw at you?”

You couldn’t keep up your facade and your grin gave away your intentions. Jace let your chin go as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Such a protective husband you are proving to be.” You said as you kissed the corner of his mouth, “Still even if there is no ceremony-” You kissed the sensitive bit between his jawline and his neck, making him hiss, “I was rather excited for what comes after the wedding.” you said with a luscious gaze.

Jace couldn’t help but widely grin as he stifled a chuckle, “No one is more eager than I am.” He said caressing your cheek, “I just,” He sighed, “I find myself overwhelmed.”

“The war is over, and won.” You said softly, “You should be happy.”

“I am happy.” He said assertively, not wanting you to think otherwise. Then he sighed as he looked towards the throne, “The burden is a heavy one.”

You looked towards the throne as well, “The crown was never meant to be light.” Your eyes then went back to Jace, “Those who are best fit for it proceed it in caution, not enthusiasm.” You already spoke with the wisdom of a queen.

“Are you so comfortable to assume the position of queen?” Jace asked defensively, he did not always like being proven wrong.

You were not upset by his question, “No. Quite the opposite.” You said with a shake of your head, “I always valued my privacy. Never liked having eyes on me, never liked people talking about me.”

“Perhaps you would have been happier to marry a different man.” He sulked.

You narrowed your brows, “Is that how you feel?” You questioned him assertively, sick of his self-pity.

His demeanor changed, becoming softer, “No.” He said holding your jaw gently, “I do not want anyone else.”

You placed a hand on his that held your face, “I know this marriage was arranged but I am happier for it. You are an honorable man, who will make a great king.” You spoke gently.

Jace shook his head, “I have no doubt you will be a beloved queen. You are wise and caring. Born of a noble house.” He said looking at you with admiration.

“As are you.“ You said, wanting him to see himself worthy of his inheritance.

Jace shook his head and looked down as if he were ashamed, “You know what I am.”

You rolled your eyes, “I care not for such trivial matters. You are the son of the rightful queen.”

“And a bastard.” He said frustrated

“And I thank the gods for it.” You said stoically, “I have a taste for men with dark hair.” Your hand combed through his dark curls.

“Funny.” He said without amusement, “But what will people think of a bastard as their king? What will they think of our children-”

“When you take the throne you will no longer be a Velaryon. You will be a Targaryen. That is not a lie. Our children will be Targaryens, that is not a lie.” You interrupted him, already defensive over your future children, “You are a dragon rider, a brave and… handsome man.” You said, trailing off in the end as your eyes admired his features, “I think you just need to get adjusted to the role is all.” You said as you took Jace’s hand, pulling him towards the Throne. “Sit.” You commanded, and be obeyed,

Jace sat on the throne, and you were overcome with desire. He looked so powerful, and he fit in it so perfectly. There was no one else better suited to it.

Jace however did not share your feelings, “This is foolish-” He began about to push himself out of the throne.

“Wait,” You said, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the throne. You smirked at him as you stepped closer towards him, now standing between his legs, “I quite like the look of you in this chair.” You said as you ran your hand through his hair somewhat roughly, making him look up to you.

Jace grinned, “I quite like the look of you in this gown.” He said as his eyes trailed over your body in the ivory gown.

“Do you like it like this?” You asked as your fingers pulled at the laces of your gown, making it loosen around your shoulders, “Or like this?” You asked as your bare shoulders became exposed and you hiked up your skirts and straddled Jace’s lap.

Overcome by desire, Jace’s hands roamed your body with an untamable want, and his lips found yours with a deep hunger. Since your time in the training yard, you and Jace had kissed many, many, many times. But this was desperate, this was longing. His tongue found your own, and you never knew the warmth that would come with it. This kind of kiss was new.

You moved your mouth to his neck, kissing down until you were unbuttoning his shirt desperate for more skin to kiss.

He could not help but lean into your affections. His hands grasped harder onto your sides, his lips found your exposed skin. The pleasure sent a chill through your spine. You felt a candle light between your legs. Desperate for more, you began to grind your clothed cunt against his mounting excitement.

You smirked as you heard Jace gasp at your bold movements, “We can’t, not in here-” He said breathlessly.

“Why not? You’re the king.” You said softly with a gentle kiss to his neck, “My king.” You smirked at him as you opened his overcoat and blouse, admiring his body that was new to you. “You’ve kissed me before have you not? You are to fuck me tonight are you not? Why can I not sample you?” You asked sweetly, but darkly as you kissed down his chest, over his stomach, until you were kneeling in front of him between his knees as he sat on the throne.

As your hand gently grazed over his thighs, he cupped your cheek gently. “You make me weak. I can’t contain my urges.” He said with a weak smile, too love-drunk to think.

You shook your head, “I don’t want them contained.” You said as you kissed the bulge his throbbing cock was creating beneath his constricting trousers.

Jace tried but failed to conceal his moan of pleasure, “I’ll do whatever my queen commands of me.” he spoke breathlessly, his eyes already begging to roll back in ecstasy though he tried to maintain his composure.

You rested your head against his thigh, teasingly close to his cock. Your eyes were that of a siren of the sea as you looked up at him, “I only wish to serve…” Your hand began to trail over toward the silk laces of his trousers, “My king.” you said as you began to free him from the confines of his clothing.

He gasped again as he watched you, “Gods be good.”

You pulled the expensive fabric of his wedding attire down and his cock eagerly sprung out. You smirked as you looked at it, “Fit for a king.” You said with a smirk, reaching for his length, but stopping just inches before you could touch him, “Can I?” You wanted to be certain before you did it, and he eagerly and desperately nodded. As you took him in your hand he groaned in pleasure. You stroked it slowly, almost painfully slow. With each stroke, you were fixated on the noises you were drawing out of him. Desperate for more, You licked up his shaft before taking him in your mouth, or as much of him as you could take. Sucking slowly and gently, his moans and the lewd sounds from your mouth echoed throughout the empty throne room. As you released him from your mouth desperate for air, you continued to stroke him, “You taste so good.” You said breathlessly.

Jace mewled, and took a deep breath, trying his best not to finish right then and there, “You feel so good, your mouth feels so so good.” He whined beautifully, throwing his head back against the cold steel of the throne.

You began to kiss the tip of his cock, savoring the taste of his precum as it leaked from him, “You like it?” You asked teasingly innocent.

“Y-yes.” He stammered as he groaned

You suddenly stopped your movements, ceasing all attention you were giving him, it was enough to drive him mad as he groaned in agony, “Have you ever had a woman touch you like this?” You asked leaning your head against his thigh, as if you were completely unaware of the torture you were putting him through.

He shook his head eagerly, “N-no, only you.”

You smirked as you took him back in your hand, “You truly are an honorable man.” You gave his cock a final kiss before you turned your attention towards his balls, taking one in your mouth. You were unfamiliar with what you were doing but somehow it came naturally. Your desire drove you in the right direction. Sucking on him as you stroked his cock.

This sensation was all too new for Jace, he threw his head back and moaned erratically, “F-f-f” he stammered

You released him, followed by a lewd noise, “You can curse.” You told him, knowing what he wanted to do.

“Fuck…” He said as if he had resurfaced after being drowned, He looked down at you longingly, “Can I touch you?” He asked desperately.

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness, “Of course, my king.” you said with a nod, taking him back in your mouth again.

His hands went to your head, petting your hair sweetly, being sure to keep your hair out of your face. His moaning only got louder, “Awh, thank you- thank you.” He whined, “You’re so beautiful.” He said as he watched you lovingly stroke and suck on his throbbing length. You squeezed him in a particular way that made his muscles twitch, “Awh! I love you-” He said, his mind empty, but meaning every word.

You released him for just a moment to breathe, “Say it again.” you commanded before taking in your mouth again.

You could feel his grip on your hair tightening, “I love-” He nodded, and you began to stroke fast, suck harder, “Awh!” he moaned out in pleasure as your moments picked up, “I love you, with everything I have.” He spoke breathlessly, “My wife, my queen.”

You could feel his body tensing underneath your touch, you could feel his cock throbbing when harder, his breath and moans more erratic. You knew what was coming, so you did what he hoped to all the Gods that you wouldn’t do, and you stopped. You released him from your mouth and your touch. “Uh-uh.” You said standing up, and pulling your gown back up around your shoulders.

Jace looked at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, “You tease me?” he asked desperately, attempting to catch his breath.

You smirked at the sight in front of you, he sprawled out on the throne nearly fully exposed, “I want you to spill inside me. How else am I to give you children?” You said in a teasing tone.

Jace huffed but smirked, knowing his release was going to be something he earned. He pushed himself back into his trousers and stood.

He smirked at you as he began to rush you out of the throne room, no doubt towards your now shared chambers. Stopping for a moment to push you against the throne room doors to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

As your kiss was released you smiled at him, “I love you, you know?” you spoke gently.

He stifled a laugh and nodded, “I know you do.” he said before kissing you once more before pushing you out of the room and chasing you toward your chambers.

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naffeclipse · 4 months ago

Text

Charm Brought It Back

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

I am so excited to present this Hocus Pocus inspired AU requested by the lovely @jackofallrabbits! The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude! And what better day to post such a spooky and fun fic than on Friday the 13th?!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

You turn the key and cut the engine of your car. With a flick, you turn off the headlights. The beginning of a sunset swoops down onto your ill-adjusted vision. The horizon is drenched in purples and oranges as shadows begin to crawl off of trees and their yellowed leaves. It will take a minute or two for your sight to adapt, but you have tilted and revolved the structure waiting just at the edge of the forest within your mind’s eyes for days now. It’s beyond the dirt road you’ve pulled onto the shoulder of.

Blinking slowly, you find the house’s dark silhouette through the boughs of clustered trees, and you sigh at the beauty of its preserved history.

The building is an artifact dating back roughly to the 1630s. A post-medieval English-style home, it contains two stories with an overhanging jetty and stunning clapboard siding that has survived a little under four centuries of existence. Your eyes catch on the windows and your heart sings at the sight. Diamond-paned casement. And there, decorative pendants of celestial bodies, including iron-casted suns, moons, and overlapping symbols of the two. The steeply pitched roof is common for the era and is more renowned in its descendant the saltbox form, but this style boosts its spooky aura.

The Puritan colonists were the ones responsible for importing the style to America as they landed here on the eastern coast.

It’s no stretch of the imagination to think of witches and execution trials while gazing over the beautiful home. You’re particularly intrigued by the history of the Salem witch trials, and as a historian, you couldn’t deny yourself the chance to enter the building and feed the gnawing need to stand within a piece of history.

Stepping out of your car, a gust of wind carrying the bitter edge of autumn cuts through your brown sweater. You shiver and shut the door as quietly as you can manage. This is hallowed ground. This will supply your ever inquisitive mind which is always looking to the past with a curiosity most insatiable.

You face the home. A footpath lightly serpentines between the trees. Hooligans with destructive tendencies and teenagers on dares will venture here for a spooky, fun time, but are usually caught by the police because the building sits on private property. You asked for permission from the owner of the hundreds of acres of forest land that includes the so-called “Witch House” if you might enter the premises. Given your credentials, you were certain the owner would trust you with exploring the home.

Much to your relief, the owner agreed.

You look up, arms clutching your knitted sleeves to fight the chill of an October breeze, in awe and reverence.

From your pocket, you slip out a wrought-iron key with the symbol of the moon overlapping the sun to form a black eclipse and marvel again at the intricacy of ancient beauty. Your fingertips grow chilled in the late hour. The sun shifts from orange to dark, bleeding red like blood from a heart spilled across the horizon. You walk towards the home.

Perhaps you should have arrived sooner. You were caught in another historical journal depicting the specific timeframe of when this home would have been occupied by its original inhabitants.

The rumors even now speak of curses and cursed artifacts within the building. Some of it is true—you have confirmed with your own scholarly sources. The original owners were a trio of brothers. They were accused of witchcraft and hanged for the crimes. That much is historically documented and verified.

What is fantasy is the tale of the brothers casting a curse with their dying breaths, declaring they would one day return if a virgin lit a starry candle on the anniversary of their executions.

Superstition. Most likely, the fear of the townspeople transcended to their children, and their children, down and down until it became a tale to spin on Halloween night around these parts.

The door is black as you approach it. A stray branch catches on your sweater, pulling on a thread, and you yank yourself free and silently mourn the roughen fabric before returning your attention to what really matters. You must be careful. This entire place is iconic and in need of preservation.

You slip the key into the lock hole and turn it with a thick, heavy click before the black wood door groans and slides inwards as if inviting you into its sphere. You take a breath. Your boots cross the threshold and you enter the home.

As is typical of some homes built in the early seventeenth century, an open hall greets you. In the far back is the fireplace with a cauldron still sitting upon an ashy bed. An original wood-carve table and chairs are set to one side as a staircase climbs up into the darkness of the second level. What little red light leaks inside is narrowed and cut up into diamonds by the panes. To one wall, shelves contain dusty and forgotten cooking utensils, once glimmery copper pots, and dinner dishes with designs considered much too gawky in the Puritan era but it causes you to softly gasp.

Your hand covers your mouth as you gaze around you, overwhelmed with the beautiful intricacies of metallic chandeliers holding half-burned tallow candles, and to the other wall lies a bookshelf covered in cobwebs as if the spiders refuse to let anyone examine such precious reads. Your fingers already itch to gently pry out one manuscript and gaze at the original script of whoever wrote it.

But the light—it’s far too dark now. The red has given way to blue and pale indigo. You squint. You reach into your other pocket for a lighter and flick it on. The tiny flame spouts a delicate light. Never would you dare admit this out loud to a living soul, but you so desperately wish to see the home in its authentic state, lit only by the technology the brothers had at the time: fire.

There are thick, yellowed candles lying on the table and clustered together on the narrow window sills. You have no hope of reaching the metal chandeliers but you do spy a candelabra positioned near the bookshelf on a small end table. You light it first with a careful touch of your lighter flame. The wick catches, even after all of these years. You smile softly, your heart warm within your chest as you bask in the essence of this beautiful place.

A few more candles should suffice.

You slip to the table to light the thick and tall candles. The flames bloom and warm the space in rich light, casting thick shadows from support beams. You almost set your lighter away when you spy one last candle set upon a golden candle holder. The fashioned metal twists and twines with elaborate engravings of shooting stars and slices of sun rays were placed in the corner of the room almost out of sight. The curiosity within you urges you to take a step, then another, and another. You stand in front of the almost forgotten candle.

The tallow is black as midnight. Strange. How did they color this? Embedded within the darkness are speckles of white, splattering the candle like an array of stars. Your eyes stray in search of constellations before shaking your head.

It’s true. There is a starry candle. Perhaps the brothers did dabble in the occult, playing with cards and fortune telling, and being punished with death for their interest in unholy magic.

The wick is dark and untouched as if it were never lit before. You bring the lighter flame closer. Superstition might worry another, but you concern yourself with logic and reason—explanations of humanity rather than inexplicable forces beyond comprehension.

Something stirs from a nearby corner shelf. Two long ears twitch. You catch a glimpse of a rabbit with creamy white fur just before it leaps off of the shelf and directly onto your arm. You yelp. Nearly dropping the lighter, you scramble back as the rabbit hits the floor, collects itself, and sits on its haunches.

Green eyes glare up at you. The rabbit, small and bunny-like, stays firmly between you and the starry candle.

You stand with your chest heaving and your lungs scraping out air, almost burning your thumb on the lighter flame before turning around yourself. Where did the woodland creature come from? Did it crawl its way inside like a rat and become trapped within the colonial home? The shot of adrenaline still flowing through your veins leaves your hands shaking.

The rabbit is still watching you with uncanny eyes. Prey animals so rarely stare back at bigger, larger threats. Perhaps it’s a pet. A runaway pet that somehow ended up here, of all places.

You slowly offer out your hand, keeping the lighter away in your other, as you take a step towards it.

It thumps a foot once, as if in warning, then bounds away. You watch it disappear into the house, still reeling from the fright it gave you.

If Michael was here, he would have laughed and told you to leave with him, now. He never wanted you to go here, especially alone, but you shake such ominous warnings away. He said curiosity killed the cat. You disagreed. This house is a part of history, not a curse. Witches are mere stories, conjured out of historical unrest and the longing to blame bad luck and tragedies upon an individual or three.

There’s always an explanation for fear superstition or mistrust. It’s far more sad than it is spooky.

You shake your head, smooth out the creases in your sweater, and face the starry candle again. The lighter flame flickers softly as you draw near it.

It is the anniversary of the brothers’ executions. You remember now as the shadows from other candles drape over you like a veil. You are also a virgin.

You laugh to yourself, covering your mouth as you do so. Look at you! You’re getting so worked up because a rabbit jumped at you.

It’s only hocus-pocus.

You tilt the lighter until it engulfs the wick. The flame catches, and you at last snap the lighter shut and return it to your pocket. Your eyes squint slightly at the candle. The wick snaps and bursts into sparks. The flame is not yellow or orange or even blue—it’s pure white like a comet streaking across the sky.

A crack of thunder splits the night sky with a bellow so monstrous, you feel like a child again, fearing a storm. You drop low to the ground, shielding your head as if the very world was going to fall upon you. A spark cracks in the fireplace, conjured out of ash underneath the cauldron before it burns hot and bright. The cauldron immediately begins roiling and bubbling with water. Laughter, great and terrible, and filled with the most jester-like joy sweeps over the room.

The pulse in your ears drowns at any sense but the need to hide. You scramble into the corner, tucking yourself behind the stand of the starry candle and hunker down. Holding your breath, you grab a fistful of your sweater while clutching your chest, and watch the door to the almost 400-year-old house fly open.

Three figures stride inside, looking about the place with wide eyes and disk-like heads framed in jutting adornments not unlike sun rays or shrouded in a heavy, dark blue hood.

“Brothers! We’re home!” The first one, tall and dark with deep red hues to his form, accent in sharp orange sun rays and an eclipse upon his face, turns to face his brother with bright, cat-like yellow eyes. “Isn’t it glorious?”

Another figure steps forward, yellow and off-white. Pale eyes beam. His head is crowned in bright sun rays as well. His spindly fingers twindle together in exuberant energy while he glances about the room eagerly. “Oh, yes, yes! More than anything! It’s as if we weren’t gone for more than a day—though the dust and cobwebs beg to differ.”

He draws a claw—you suck in a sharp breath—along the table’s edge and rubs his taloned fingertips together in disappointment.

“We must get to cleaning at once.”

“No,” the last figure fixes his hood with silvery digits. Golden jewels hang down the back of his unusual skull, the last and most prominent adornment a thick, golden star pendant. His eyes cast around the room, scarlet, and searching. “We must thank the little mouse who lit the candle.”

He flashes sharp teeth within his wide mouth, shaping it into a hungry grin. You gulp.

“Where are our manners?” The red and dark one twists back to the room with a flourish of his arms. His yellow gaze sweeps over the shelves and floors with a blade-like glint. “Of course, we must thank one so lovely.”

A dark cape drapes about his person. Underneath, a white flowing shirt hangs loosely to his lithe and slender figure, causing you to balk upon staring at such an exposed chest. The other two are no different, wearing similar shirts and dark trousers, but the hooded one bears a thick, longer cape while the sunny figure shares a cape similar to the first.

The yellow one lifts his wrists and frowns at the red ribbons tied around them. Golden bells jingle softly in an ominous chord.

“How terrible a reminder of our current impermanence,” he growls low in his throat, all cheerfulness lost and causing you to squeeze your ribs in fear.

“Patience, Sun,” the red one speaks, though he too casts a narrowed glance to the black ribbons and golden bells adorning his wrists. “We will affix ourselves back to this world in due time.”

“Eclipse, what a delicious creature I smell.” The hooded figure steps deeper into the home. Blue claws scratch at equally blue ribbons knotted to his hand bones but his attention is terrifyingly fixed on the candle stand just above your hiding spot.

You shrink further into the corner.

“Yes, Moon? And how lovely?” Eclipse, you assume, asks. His yellow eyes flash.

“As lovely as the stars,” Moon answers.

You watch claws curl around the wooden side of the candle stand, scratching deeply into the wood before a half-moon face emerges from behind, teeth set like a predator’s upon the sight of a wounded animal. Your heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing.

“Hello, little mouse. Won’t you come and play with us?”

You scream as he leaps behind the candle stand, takes you by the arms, and pulls you to your feet. You struggle to free yourself, crying out as he grabs hold of your wrists and fixes you firmly in place.

“My, how sweet,” he purrs in a dangerously low voice that rolls in the back of his throat. “You are the darling virgin who lit the candle, no?”

“Let me go!” You thrash but Moon grins in delight, as if you’re simply too precious.

“You deserve proper thanks,” He lowers one hand, forcing you to submit with slightly bent knees. “Here is my gratitude, little mouse.”

You freeze as he brings your hand towards his mouth, and a hundred, horrifying visions of him biting your fingers off or sinking his teeth in your palm send your blood into a frozen sludge of fear.

The witch, however, presses a kiss to the center of your palm. The softness catches the gears in your mind and jerks them to a halt.

“Thank you for allowing us to return once more,” he rasps. His scarlet eyes find yours between the space of your thumb and forefinger, and a strange stirring takes hold of your middle.

“This isn’t real,” you breathe. Dizziness begins to take hold.

This must be a dream, a thought gone wild, or inhaled bacteria triggering hallucinations.

Moon’s grin widens. He lowers your hand, loosening his hold for one precious moment. You rip your hands free of his grasp. A low growl escapes him but you’ve already slipped away, your eyes upon the door and spilling with the need to rush out into the night, away from the impossibilities standing before you—

Arms snatch your waist and lift your feet from the ground. You gasp.

Held in the air, you squirm before a hot breath dusts the shoulder of your sweater. You fall still, your throat bobbing as a mouth presses into the corner of your neck and lays a kiss on the sensitive spot. Gooseflesh prickles up and down your body.

“I assure you, I’m very real, little mouse,” Moon purrs. His hands squeeze your hips once. “And as nice as this… attire is, I would dress you in blues and silvers. You would look proper and powerful, like my brothers and I.”

A squeak escapes you. You shrink against him, caught in his embrace.

“Brothers?” The word rattles out of your throat.

“This is our home,” Moon whispers. “And you are our most honored guest.”

You manage to pry off his hands from your waist. With a sinister chuckle, the blue and silver hands release you. Without looking back, you run, ignoring the twinge in your stomach that whispers it was too easy to get away.

You hardly get a few steps before the sunny one—Sun—steps into your path. He catches you in his arms and spins you in a waltz at breakneck speed, your feet never touching the ground, before stopping without warning as he dips you low. He looms above you, his smile filled with sharp teeth.

“Let me get an eyeful. Oh, yes, you look good enough to eat,” he simpers. His hand splays along the small of your back and you gawk up at him, still trying to regain your balance after the sickness-inducing whirl. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”

“I just want to leave,” you whimper. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Sunshine,” he laughs, and it echoes with all of his heart—do once-hanged witches have a heart? There is no historical journey to give context to this very moment, you fear.

He lowers his sultry gaze to you. “I wish to only thank you. And I intend to.”

He pulls you back to your feet. You’re still clasped in his embrace like lovers on a ballroom floor. His hand hooks tight to your hip, and his other catches the side of your face. Heat spreads through the marrow of your bones.

On the tabletop beside you, something white moves across the plane of its surface, hunkering behind the thick stack of candles still burning.

His head lowers to your neck. You stiffen as he tilts your head away, opening you to his parting teeth. A tongue, dark and sinuous, flicks out of his maw. A gasp slips from your lips at the wet lick up the column of your throat. Eyelids fluttering, you start to sag as weakness fills your knees. He drags his tongue higher to taste your jawline and finishes at your cheek with a swipe for good measure.

Your hands find him and clutch tightly to his slender arms. He presses his lips to your ear and with a misty warmth, whispers.

“Thank you for—Gah!”

The white rabbit leaps up from the table, squirming directly between you and his chest, breaking you apart. Instinctively, you jump away just as Sun snarls. The heart-wrenching sound shakes your entire frame as he snatches the rabbit by the scruff before it can scramble back from his wretched claws.

“I’ll boil you alive!” he thunders. He steps towards the cauldron, back where Moon leans against the wall, watching the spectacle with an amusing twitch of his grinning maw. Behind you, Eclipse stands at the door like a sentinel, his eyes still hungry and even furious as he follows his brother’s movement to the cauldron.

Sun dangles the rabbit, now struggling and kicking but unable to find purchase against the witch’s hold, above the boiling water of the caldron.

“No!” you cry.

Sun’s eyes widen. He turns back to you just as you close the distance and scoop the rabbit in your arms. His claws, pale-boned and wickedly curved, clench around emptiness. Without thought, you turn and run again though there is little hope as you come to the door. Your boots stamp against the wooden floorboards.

The rabbit in your embrace turns its face up to you and mutters in a woman’s voice, “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

You gawk, stunned before hands catch you by the shoulders. You’re brought to a dead halt. The rabbit leaps from your arms, drops to the floor, and races away into a shadowy corner of the room with only one glimpse of its fluffy tail before you’re left alone.

You twist and face the eldest witch’s attention. Eclipse. His yellow eyes go up and down your body, and you watch in muted shock as two additional arms emerge from the shadows of his cap. He forces you backward, one step after the other until your back is pinned against a dusty wall.

You stare into his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pulse pounds in your eardrums.

“I don’t believe this is happening,” you utter.

The witch tilts his head with a wicked grin.

“We’ll make you a believer yet.” He promises, and his deep cords vibrate through your form. “My dear, we simply must thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

His claws slip over your collarbones. Your breath quickens, a stirring you cannot name unfolding deep within your middle. His extra set of hands fall to your hips and begin caressing the bones. Daintily, carefully, his warm fingertips slip just underneath the hem of your sweater, touching your bare flesh. A shiver runs down your entire body, leaving you to squirm.

“Be a good little comet,” he says softly, “Let me pour my gratitude all over you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it was true,” you stare into his face, marked with a red crescent over a dark shadow, and his eyes pierce into the very nature of your being. “You’re back.”

“Because of you,” he rumbles softly in his chest. His grin pulls higher at the corners.

His claws slip over the nap of your neck and card gently into the small, sensitive hairs at the bottom of your skull. You breathe in. His eyes brighten in pleasure before he slips his sharp but controlled talons over the shells of your ears and follows the arch of your cheekbone. His gaze drops to your lips. Your heart thumps and thumps against your sternum so powerfully, you fear he may hear it.

His lips pull over his razor-sharp teeth and you stop breathing.

His other set of hands begins working up the sides of your torso. He rubs slowly and gently, but you squirm despite this. He touches you far too intimately when you have never experienced such affections before. A mewl escapes your lips. You wriggle as he refuses to relent.

In answer, his upper hands lower and capture your hands together in one, and pin them above your head to hold you in place. He coos, chastising. A great roil starts in your stomach and expands upwards until your face becomes pink and flushed.

“Hold still, little comet,” he chuckles, and you whimper. “I’m not finished with showering you in all my adoration.”

“Eclipse,” your breath is harsh and hot.

“It is good to hear my name upon such lovely lips,” his voice lowers, husky and scorching. “I knew a virgin would light the candle. I swore it to my brothers as they set us on the gallows and draped nooses around our necks. You are our light, our savior. How could I ever thank you?”

In his words, his burning stare that singes with sincerity, it clicks into place. All at once, you believe what you are seeing with your own two eyes.

It’s true. He’s back. He and his brothers have returned with magic.

“I have questions,” you say hesitantly in your demureness, “I want answers.”

“Of course,” Eclipse agrees easily. “But first…”

A dark claw brushes your hair back from your face. The flutter in your heart can’t seem to hold still. Eclipse’s grin widens and his eyes soften.

“You have freckles like constellations,” he murmurs in the manner of one gazing at the night sky or one studying an ornate painting.

Before you can shape words to reply, to say anything that might free you from his grasp, his mouth is upon yours. A sound softly catches in the back of your throat. You fall still under his caressing hands still moving below your sweater. He traces the row of your ribs. You have just enough mind to wonder if he feels your skin prickle in your sensitivity. His other hand clasps your wrists tighter. You gasp against his teeth.

He pulls gently, hungrily, taking you as if a bite of honeycomb. You become melted honey, easily malleable between his teeth and then molded by his mouth. His tongue invades you. You moan softly at the claim he lays upon you until you become weak in the knees and almost fall. His kiss seals your fate.

He releases you from his maw. You sink slightly, and his arms fall out from under your sweater to properly catch you. He lowers your wrists, returns your hands, and brushes your hair once more from your face.

A chuckle emits from his lips, and you burn.

“You’ll stay with us, won’t you?” he asks, but he waits for no answer as he scoops you into his arms. Feet dangling, you have no choice but to cling to his shoulders and endure his brothers’ attention as he twists around and faces them.

The rabbit’s right. You are in trouble. Michael warned you. He said curiosity killed the cat.

But charm brought it back.

#naff's writing commissions #witches and rabbits and candles oh my #if michael was there he would be so mad at you for lighting the candle smh #hocus pocus au my beloved #witch!eclipse #witch!sun #witch!moon #charm brought it back #naff writing

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gghostwriter · 7 months ago

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[Requests are closed]

Hi, you can call me Pau. I’m in my 20s and a self proclaimed spencer reid writer and a closeted aaron hotchner girl. My askbox is always open for questions and yapping.

Disclaimer: All one shots and requests are written in fem!reader but my two series are fem!oc

You can check out my reading library for book recommendations!

Most recent fic: How Three Became One ↳ In the aftermath of your failed make-up anniversary dinner, the third person in the relationship reaches out to you

One shots

Angst

Death of a Love Affair [sad] ↳ The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t. Still Alive for My Lover [happy] ↳ The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he’s reborn to find his way back to you Dead Man Walking [sad] ↳ The three times memories of his broken promises plagued Spencer’s mind and the final time he’s faced with the consequences Poison Me, I'm Fine [sad] ↳ Your choice of poison was Spencer Reid. Who knew he would kill you and set you free in the process Knots of Yearning ↳ Spencer lies by omission or in which Spencer acts like he doesn’t know how to tie a tie just to get you to do it for him A Series of Happenstance ↳ The three times Spencer loathed to see you and the one time he pleaded to Three's a Sideshow ↳ Spencer misses an important date and ends up paying the consequences How Three Became One ↳ In the aftermath of your failed make-up anniversary dinner, the third person in the relationship reaches out to you

Fluff

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it ↳ The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't. Language of Devotion ↳ You caught Spencer learning a new skill—your native language One Single Thread of Gold ↳ The 3 times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the 1 time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes. Camaraderie ↳ Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Wanted: A Gentleman ↳ Your lovely group of friends, Penelope, JJ, and Emily, set you up with your perfect match If You Love Me Right ↳ Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Whispered Truths ↳ Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Lips of a Gentleman ↳ A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better The Language of Flowers ↳ Spencer prepares a personalized gift for his first date with you Level-One Intruder ↳ Spencer apprehends an unexpected but adorable trespasser Time Gave No Compass, Were There Clues? ↳ The three times fate brings you to cross paths with a certain handsome stranger and the one time he purposely crosses with yours Intruder’s Heist ↳ The inner musings of the amazing Mr Chewie, the good and the bad

Comfort

Deepest Fear ↳ Spencer wakes from a nightmare and you comfort him Out of Sunshine ↳ Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Have Your Cake ↳ Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Time is a Fickle Thing ↳ Spencer realizes how important it is to occupy the present and be active in the little things

Mini Series

A Series of Happenstance [1] ↳ Spencer Reid x House!Daughter!Reader One Single Thread of Gold [1] [2] ↳ Spencer Reid x Fashion!Reader Three's A Sideshow [1] [2] [3] ↳ Spencer Reid x BreakUp!Reader Wanted: A Gentleman [1] [2] [3] ↳ Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader [Inspired by Short n' Sweet]

Series

Entangled Strings of Fate - Fem!OC x Spencer [ongoing] Caltech, Pasadena - Cleo considers herself a woman of logic With an IQ of 158 and an eidetic memory, how could she not. But meeting Spencer, the boy genius to hers, had her believing in intangible theories like the invisible string and the fates itself. Now, if only he would notice the depth of her feelings. Trope - Friends to Lovers; Eventual Romance Last update - Sept 26 [chapter 8] ; Next update - tba

Yours Truly, Romeo - Fem!OC x Spencer [finished] Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing. Trope - Strangers to Lovers, Mystery, Romance

Requests.

💗 fluff || 💥 angst || 💧hurt/comfort

Hallucinate 💗 ↳ Spencer gets in one accident and thinks you are more than a friend. He believes you're his wife. Blackout 💗 ↳ Spencer finds you passed out on the bathroom floor Phantasmagoria 💗 ↳ Due to an injury, you mistakenly believe Spencer's your husband Birds of a Feather 💗 ↳ Spencer catches you drawing him and he shyly poses for it Bundle of Nerves 💗 ↳ You pass out during work hours and Spencer worriedly rushes to see you Ice Princess 💗 ↳ You take down an unsub and the team finds out a truth about you Sentencing 💗💧 ↳ Spencer (and team) support you during a court hearing His 💗💥 ↳ You visit Spencer in prison and he reacts to the lewd remarks thrown your way Cherished 💗 ↳ Spencer arrives home to a very sweet surprise Down Under 💗 ↳ Spencer questions your colorful vocabulary and it's meaning Cocoa Powder 💗 ↳ While Spencer is in prison, you discover a secret Eden 💗 💥 ↳ Spencer worries for his roommate [based on 'Eden' by Hozier] Curveball 💗 ↳ Spencer proposes in the middle of chasing an unsub Special Diet 💗 ↳ You, a certified wine connoisseur, say no to a glass of wine and in which the team reacts to Rewriting History 💗 💥 ↳ Spencer takes you as his date to his high school reunion In the Ether 💗 ↳ You and Spencer frolic in the countryside fields Lightweight 💗 ↳ Spencer introduces you, a professional wrestler, to his found family

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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The Queen Who Was Not

- Summary: After Aegon broke his promise to you, he leaves you broken. You decided to take your fate into your own hands. But fate is a fickle beast.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This is an alternative version of The Broken Crown, with another set of events. This story was another suggestion made by @renasd , with slight changes in the plot.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

You had loved Aegon since you were a child, when the world seemed small and the stars could be plucked from the sky with a word from your brother. He was the sun around which you orbited, his every word, every glance, every promise etched into your heart. When he promised you marriage, a union of love unlike any the realm had seen, you believed him with the fervor of a child who thinks dragons will live forever.

The bond between you and Aegon was forged in those early years, as strong as dragonsteel. You would watch him with wide, admiring eyes as he trained with Blackfyre in hand, his strength and determination unmatched. In turn, he would watch you with a quiet, almost protective affection, promising that one day you would stand beside him not just as a sister, but as a queen.

You thought that day would come when you turned sixteen. It was the age when a Targaryen girl came into her own, her blood singing with fire, ready to join with another to strengthen the family line. Your heart was aflame with anticipation, the promise of his words fueling the fire of your hope. Aegon was the Conqueror now, a king with two queens, but in your mind, you were always meant to be his third, his heart.

But then came the wedding of Visenya, the elder sister whose stern beauty and fierce loyalty had always been a shadow over you. You understood his duty to her, the need to cement the ancient bloodline with a union of strength. It was a bond of necessity, you told yourself, a marriage of fire and steel. And then, before you could even catch your breath, he took Rhaenys as well.

Rhaenys, the sister of the dawn, laughter always on her lips, her beauty a shining beacon that drew the eyes of the realm. She was the beloved, the one whom Aegon desired with a passion that left you cold. You saw it in the way he looked at her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the softening of his gaze that you had once thought was reserved for you alone.

The realization was a blade between your ribs, twisting deeper with each smile they shared, each touch that should have been yours. Aegon had taken Visenya out of duty, but Rhaenys he had chosen for desire. And what were you, then? A childhood promise, a girl left behind in the shadow of queens more radiant than the sun.

On the eve of your sixteenth name day, when the moon hung heavy and the sea whispered of forgotten hopes, you found yourself standing before Aegon. Your voice trembled as you spoke, asking him when it would be your turn, when he would fulfill the vow made beneath the stars of your childhood.

His answer shattered the last remnants of your hope. He wanted to marry you out of love, he said, and not out of duty or desire. He wanted to make you his queen, not because it was expected, but because he cherished you beyond all others. But not yet. Not now, when the realm was still fragile, when his conquests were still incomplete.

Your heart, already broken, turned to ash. Love. He spoke of love while he stood between his two queens, the weight of their presence suffocating you. He wanted you to wait, to be patient, to be his beloved someday, when the world was ready. But you had waited long enough. You could not be a shadow, a mere promise in the distance while he shared his bed, his throne, his life with others.

That night, you made your choice. Dressed in the colors of your house, your silver hair braided with blood-red ribbons, you climbed upon Tesaerix’s back. Your dragon felt your turmoil, your pain. She roared into the night sky, the sound echoing across Dragonstone, a cry of fury and sorrow that would not be contained.

You flew to Driftmark, the sea wind biting at your skin, tears freezing upon your cheeks. There, in the hall of High Tide, you found Aethan Velaryon, his eyes widening in surprise at your arrival. You barely knew him, this sea lord with salt in his veins and ambition in his heart, but that did not matter.

“I would marry you,” you said, your voice strong, unwavering. “I would marry you and be free of this cage.”

He looked at you, seeing the dragon fire in your eyes, the determination that could not be quenched. And he agreed. You were wed under the stars, the salt waves lapping at your feet, the cries of seagulls mingling with the distant roar of your dragon.

You were no longer the little sister left behind. You were a Velaryon now, a bride of the sea and sky, and Aegon’s hold on your heart was no more. As you stood there, your hand clasped in Aethan’s, you felt the first stirrings of something new—freedom, independence, the taste of a life that was your own.

And when Tesaerix took to the skies once more, her wings cutting through the night air, you knew there was no going back. You would never be his third queen, the last to be chosen. You were a dragon, and you would forge your own path in a world that had tried to bind you in chains.

The news reached Aegon like a dagger to the heart. You, his cherished sister, his beloved, had wed Aethan Velaryon. The words were barely whispered before he was in the air, his dragon’s wings beating furiously against the sky. He had never known fear like this, not when facing the flames of battle or the uncertainty of conquest. But now, it gripped him like an iron fist.

As he descended upon Driftmark, the sun barely cresting the horizon, he saw Tesaerix circling above the Velaryon castle, her gold-cream scales gleaming in the early light. Her roar was a warning, a challenge that cut through the air like a blade. He knew she sensed his turmoil, but he had to see you, had to make you understand.

You were in the courtyard when he landed, your stance regal, your eyes cold. Aethan stood beside you, a protective hand on your arm, his presence a barrier between you and the king. Aegon dismounted swiftly, his eyes locked on yours, desperation etched across his face.

“Y/N, what have you done?” His voice was strained, the words tearing from his lips. “Why would you do this?”

You lifted your chin, the hurt buried deep beneath a mask of resolve. “I did what you would not allow me to do, Aegon. I took my fate into my own hands.”

His hands clenched at his sides, his frustration barely contained. “I wanted to marry you, Y/N. I wanted to wait until the realm was secure, until I could give you everything you deserved, without the shadow of duty or desire hanging over us.”

“You speak of love,” you said, your voice icy, “but you made me wait while you took Visenya and Rhaenys. You left me to watch, to wonder when my turn would come. I am not some prize to be claimed at your convenience, Aegon.”

He stepped forward, his eyes pleading. “You are not a prize, Y/N. You are my heart. I thought you would understand. I needed to take Rhaenys—”

“Needed?” You laughed, the sound bitter. “You needed her because you wanted her. And Visenya, because it was your duty. What am I, then? A symbol of your love? A trinket you can set aside until you are ready?”

Aethan’s grip on your arm tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched Aegon. “She is my wife now, Aegon. You cannot undo what has been done.”

Aegon’s gaze flickered to Aethan, anger flaring in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Velaryon. You have stolen something precious from me.”

“I have taken nothing that was not freely given,” Aethan replied, his voice steady, though his hand shook ever so slightly.

You stepped forward, placing yourself between the two men, your expression resolute. “I made this choice, Aegon. I am no longer yours to command.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, his composure shattered. “Please, Y/N, come back with me. We can make this right.”

“No,” you said, the finality in your tone cutting through him like a sword. “You had your chance, Aegon. I will not be your afterthought.”

He stood there, the wind whipping around him, his fists trembling with suppressed rage and grief. He looked at you, his eyes searching, pleading, but you did not waver. Finally, with a choked growl, he turned away, climbing back onto his dragon.

As he flew back to Dragonstone, his heart was a storm of emotions—rage, despair, regret. He had lost you, the one he had always thought would be by his side. The bitter taste of his failure burned in his throat, and he knew that this wound would not heal easily.

Days passed, the silence between you and Aethan slowly thawing as you adjusted to your new life. He was kind, considerate, his presence a balm to the scars Aegon had left behind. Though your marriage had not yet been consummated, there was a growing warmth between you, a tentative affection that could have blossomed into something more given time.

But time was not on your side.

It happened one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sea in shades of crimson and gold. Aethan was found in his chambers, lifeless, his face twisted in pain. There were no marks, no wounds, nothing to suggest foul play, but you knew. In your heart, you knew.

Aegon.

The realization hit you like a blow, your knees buckling as you stumbled away from Aethan’s still form. The air seemed to close in around you, thick and suffocating, as if the walls themselves were pressing down. You fled to the sea cliffs, the roar of the waves below a distant echo to the storm raging within you.

Tesaerix found you there, her massive form looming behind you, a soft rumble in her throat. She could sense your anguish, your fury. You pressed your forehead against her warm scales, your tears mingling with the salt spray of the sea.

“He did this,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “He took him from me.”

Your dragon growled low, her eyes flashing crimson in the fading light. You knew she would burn the world at your command, that her wrath would mirror your own. But what good would that do now? Aethan was gone, his life snuffed out before it had truly begun, and you were left adrift, your heart shattered anew.

The days that followed were a blur of mourning, the Velaryons gathering to pay their respects, their faces shadowed with suspicion. They whispered of poison, of dark magic, of the king’s wrath descending upon them in secret. But there was no proof, nothing but the aching certainty in your heart.

And Aegon... Aegon was silent. No message, no word from Dragonstone. But you knew he was watching, waiting, his presence a looming shadow you could not shake.

As you stood before Aethan’s sarcophagus which his family lowered into the sea, you made a vow. You would not be broken, not by Aegon or anyone else. He had taken too much from you already, but he would not take your spirit. You were a Targaryen, a rider of dragons, a daughter of fire and blood.

And if Aegon thought he could bind you to his will, he would soon learn just how fierce a dragon’s wrath could be.

The months of mourning were a blur of quiet pain, the weight of grief settling like a mantle across your shoulders. Driftmark’s salt-soaked shores had been both refuge and prison, the sea wind a constant reminder of the life that had been stolen from you. But as time passed, sorrow hardened into resolve, and your thoughts turned to vengeance. Aethan’s death would not go unavenged, and the one who had wronged you would pay dearly.

You returned to Dragonstone in the dead of night, Tesaerix’s wings cutting through the dark sky like a blade. The castle loomed before you, a silhouette of ancient stone and flickering torches. It had been your home once, a place of childhood dreams and broken promises. Now, it would be the stage for your retribution.

Your father, Aerion Targaryen, the stern and unyielding Lord of Dragonstone, greeted you with a wary gaze. His hair, a crown of silver, seemed to catch the light as he watched you approach, your steps echoing in the great hall. There was no warmth in his eyes, only the cold calculation of a man who had seen too many battles, too much bloodshed.

“Why have you come, daughter?” His voice was gruff, suspicion lacing his words.

You met his gaze unflinchingly, your chin held high. “To make amends for my folly and to serve our house.”

His brows knitted together, curiosity mingling with doubt. “And how do you intend to do that?”

“By wedding Rhaegel,” you said, each word measured, deliberate. “It is time I returned to my family, to my duty. A union with my brother will strengthen the bloodline, bind our house tighter.”

Your father’s silence was heavy, the air between you charged with tension. You knew he would see the logic in your words. The union would solidify the family, secure the power of House Targaryen, and—most importantly—draw a line that Aegon would not be able to cross without dire consequences.

“Rhaegel is a gentle soul,” he finally said, his tone thoughtful. “He would not refuse you, and such a match would indeed serve our house well.”

The words were a victory, though they tasted bitter on your tongue. Rhaegel was a quiet, kind brother, one who had never sought power or conflict. But he would be your husband, and through him, you would strike back at the man who had shattered your world.

The wedding was held in the shadow of Dragonstone’s volcanic peak, the sky above churning with clouds that threatened rain. The hall was filled with the banners of your house, the air thick with the scent of burning incense and dragonsteel. Rhaegel stood beside you, his eyes soft, his hand trembling slightly as he took yours. He had not questioned your intentions, had not hesitated to join his fate with yours. He was a lamb led to slaughter, and you were the wolf at his side.

When you spoke your vows, your voice was steady, unyielding. Each word was a vow not only to Rhaegel, but to yourself, a promise that Aegon would never hold you again, never bend you to his will. The ceremony passed in a blur, the faces around you fading into insignificance as you sealed your fate.

And then, the news reached King’s Landing.

The ravens carried the message to Aegonfort, their wings a dark omen against the pale sky. Aegon’s rage, when he learned of your marriage, was a storm that shook the very foundations of the newly built keep. He was a dragon unleashed, his fury visible even from afar. The courtiers whispered of his madness, of the destruction that followed in his wake as he stormed through the halls, his voice a roar that sent servants scurrying for cover.

He tore through the council chamber, Blackfyre drawn, the gleaming blade slashing through the air. His advisors cowered, their faces ashen with fear as he raged, his words incoherent, his eyes blazing with a fire that seemed to burn from within. He cursed your name, cursed your defiance, the betrayal he felt like poison in his veins.

“How dare she!” His voice echoed through the stone halls, a thunderous bellow that seemed to shake the very walls. “She belongs to me, and she weds again another under my very nose!”

The destruction was swift, catastrophic. He smashed the great table that had been carved in the shape of Westeros, his wrath reducing it to splinters. Tapestries burned, the flames licking hungrily at the stone, and the Aegonfort quaked beneath the weight of his fury. The court trembled, for never before had they seen their king so unhinged, so consumed by rage.

From Dragonstone, you heard of the chaos, the whispers carried on the wind. Each word was a balm to the wounds he had inflicted, each report of his anger a testament to your victory. He would not have you, not now, not ever. Your marriage to Rhaegel was a shield, an unbreakable barrier between you and the man who had tried to claim you.

Rhaegel, sweet and oblivious, took no notice of the storm he had unwittingly become part of. He treated you with gentle kindness, his shy smiles and soft words a stark contrast to the tempest you had unleashed. He did not ask why you had chosen him, did not pry into the reasons behind your sudden return. Perhaps he was content to simply have you by his side, a sister and now a wife, his world made brighter by your presence.

But beneath the calm exterior, your heart was a roiling sea. You had won a victory, yes, but the cost was high. You had bound yourself to Rhaegel, a man who could never be more than a shield against Aegon’s wrath. The knowledge was a cold, sharp blade, but you wielded it with purpose, with a determination that burned hotter than dragonfire.

You would not be owned, not by Aegon or any man. Your life was yours to command, your choices your own to make. And if Aegon thought he could bend you, could break you with his fury, he would soon learn that a dragon does not bow to anyone.

In the halls of Dragonstone, you walked with your head held high, the whispers of the courtiers following in your wake. They spoke of your defiance, your strength, your unyielding will. You were a force to be reckoned with, a storm in human form, and you would not be swayed.

Aegon could rage and destroy, could tear down kingdoms and burn cities to ash. But he could not touch you, not now. You were beyond his reach, a dragon in flight, your wings spread wide against the sky. And you would soar, higher and farther than he could ever imagine, leaving him behind in the ruin of his own making.

The birth was a struggle from the very beginning. As the night waned and the dawn crept over the horizon, the air in Dragonstone was thick with tension. The cries from your chambers echoed through the stone halls, a haunting symphony of pain and desperation. The maesters and midwives worked frantically, their faces drawn and pale, their hands slick with blood and sweat.

When the infant’s wail finally pierced the silence, it was not the sound of triumph. The child, small and frail, struggled to draw breath, its cries weak and fluttering like the wings of a dying bird. And you, spent and broken, lay still upon the birthing bed, your skin ashen, your breath shallow. The life that had burned so brightly in your eyes was now a dim flicker, barely holding on.

Rhaegel sat at your bedside, his hands clutching yours, tears streaming down his cheeks. He called your name, his voice breaking, but you were already slipping away, your spirit drifting like smoke on the wind. As the sun rose, you drew your last breath, the light fading from your eyes as the shadows claimed you.

Grief settled over Dragonstone like a dark cloud. Rhaegel, the gentle brother who had loved you with a quiet devotion, was inconsolable. He held the child—a daughter, her silver hair fine as silk, her tiny chest struggling with each shallow breath—and he wept for the life that was already slipping away. She survived only a day, a brief flicker of existence that faded into darkness before she could even know the world.

The news reached Aegon in King’s Landing, carried by a raven whose dark wings seemed an ill omen. He read the message once, twice, his mind struggling to grasp the words. You were gone. His fierce, defiant sister, the one he had always thought would stand beside him, had been taken by death’s cruel hand. And the child—his niece, his blood—was gone as well.

The rage that gripped him was like nothing he had ever known, a tempest that tore through his heart and mind. He mounted Balerion without a word, the Black Dread’s wings spreading wide as they soared into the sky. The flight to Dragonstone was swift and furious, the great dragon’s roar echoing across the Narrow Sea as if the heavens themselves were protesting Aegon’s wrath.

He arrived on the day of your pyre, the castle’s courtyards filled with the somber faces of those gathered to pay their respects. As he dismounted, his eyes blazed with fury, his expression dark and terrifying. He stormed through the crowd, his presence a force of nature that parted those before him like a wave crashing against the shore.

Rhaegel stood beside the pyre, his face hollow, his eyes red from weeping. He looked up as Aegon approached, his grief turning to fear at the sight of his brother’s wrath. Aegon’s hand shot out, gripping Rhaegel by the front of his robes, dragging him close until their faces were inches apart.

“What did you do to her?” Aegon’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, each word trembling with barely restrained violence. “She was never yours to take.”

Rhaegel’s hands clutched at Aegon’s wrists, his voice shaking as he tried to answer. “I—she was my wife, Aegon. I loved her, I would never—”

“Your wife?” Aegon spat, his grip tightening, his eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to burn hotter than the flames that would soon consume your body. “She was mine! She was always mine, and you took her, you stole her from me! You killed her!”

The accusation hung in the air, raw and brutal, and those gathered around the pyre fell silent, their eyes wide with shock and fear. Rhaegel’s breath came in ragged gasps, his face paling as Aegon’s words struck like blows.

“Aegon, please,” he choked out, his voice desperate. “I did nothing to harm her. I tried to love her, to make her happy—”

“You are a fool,” Aegon snarled, shoving Rhaegel away so violently that he stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. “A weak, pathetic fool who let her die, who couldn’t protect her! She was too strong for you, too fierce, and you crushed her spirit with your weakness!”

Rhaegel fell to his knees, his shoulders shaking as he wept, his cries soft and broken. “I tried, Aegon. I tried to save her.”

Aegon’s laughter was a bitter, hollow sound. “Save her? You were never strong enough to save her. You should have let her be, let her come back to me. I would have protected her, would have given her everything. But now—” His voice broke, and for a moment, the fury in his eyes was eclipsed by a grief so deep it seemed to tear him apart from within. “Now she’s gone, and it’s your fault.”

Their father, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward, his face lined with sorrow and weariness. “Aegon, enough. This is not the time—”

“Not the time?” Aegon rounded on him, his rage flaring anew. “You let this happen! You let her marry him, let her throw herself away on someone too weak to protect her. You were supposed to be our father, supposed to keep us safe, and you failed.”

The old man’s shoulders slumped, the weight of Aegon’s words bearing down on him like a crushing tide. “I did what I thought was best. She made her choice, Aegon. She chose her path.”

Aegon’s face twisted with pain and anger, his voice a roar that echoed off the castle walls. “Her path should have been beside me! You should have made her mine, should have stopped her!”

The silence that followed was deafening, the air thick with the tension of words that could not be unsaid. Aegon’s chest heaved with the force of his emotions, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes, wild and haunted, turned back to the pyre where your body lay, wrapped in the white shroud of death.

He took a step forward, his gaze fixed on your still form, and the rage seemed to drain from him, leaving only a hollow emptiness. “You were mine,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You were always supposed to be mine.”

And then, with a choked sound that was part sob, part growl, he turned and stormed away, the crowd parting before him in silence. He climbed back onto Balerion, the great dragon’s wings unfurling as they took to the sky. The wind whipped around him as they flew, the cold air biting at his skin, but he felt nothing but the gaping void where you had once been.

In the days that followed, the fire of Aegon’s wrath spread across the realm, his fury a wildfire that consumed everything in its path. He was a king unchained, his grief and anger a deadly combination that none dared challenge. The Aegonfort, now a place of ashes and ruin, stood as a testament to his pain, the once-proud symbol of his reign now crumbling beneath the weight of his loss.

And through it all, the memory of you lingered, a ghost that haunted his every step, a reminder of what he had lost, of what he had destroyed with his own hands. The realm would remember this day, the day a dragon’s heart broke, and the world trembled beneath the shadow of its rage.

#fire and blood #aegon the conqueror #house of the dragon #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #aegon i x reader #aegon i x you #aegon i x y/n #aegon i targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x you

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aventurineswife · 1 month ago

Note

So idk how to make a request. So I hope this is ok??

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNeT75Hpt/

Hear me out a fic about this Aventurine with mermaid reader , and he captures her. I’ll leave the rest to you, so you have your freedom when writing 🫶

Don’t fell pressured :)

Beneath the Waves, Beyond the Game

Summary: Aventurine, a flamboyant and cunning pirate, thrives on risk and games of chance, but his life takes an unexpected turn when he captures you—a mysterious, defiant being of the sea—after your haunting song lures his ship to wreckage. What begins as a clash of wills slowly evolves into a fragile bond, as shared vulnerabilities and unspoken understanding unravel the masks you both wear. Amid storms, trust, and bittersweet goodbyes, the game between the gambler and the mermaid changes them both in ways neither anticipated.

Tags: Pirate!Aventurine x Mermaid!Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn Romance, Captivity & Freedom, Pirate/Mermaid Dynamic, Forbidden Connection, Emotional Vulnerability, Found Family Themes, Bittersweet Ending.

Warnings: Themes of Captivity and Loss of Autonomy, Emotional Manipulation (Light), Storm/Peril Scenes, Brief Mentions of Betrayal and Guilt, Melancholy/Bittersweet Tones.

A/N: Y'ALL ARE FAST AFF!! 😭😭

[Part 2]

Aventurine had always thrived on risk, gambling with lives, fortunes, and fate itself. The sea, for all its temperamental fury, had always been his ally—a rolling canvas of danger and opportunity. Yet nothing in his decades of games and gambles had prepared him for you.

You were sprawled across the floor of his private quarters, your tail shimmering with iridescent hues as seawater pooled beneath you. The moment he'd heard your song—a haunting melody that echoed through the mists and lured his ship to the wreckage of a treasure-laden galleon—he knew he couldn’t let you slip back into the ocean’s embrace.

You glared at him now, your once-melodic voice reduced to silence, replaced by a defiant scowl. Aventurine lounged in his throne-like chair, one leg crossed over the other, his flamboyant coat draped behind him like a cape.

"Do you make it a habit to lure ships to their doom, or am I just special?" he drawled, adjusting his jeweled eyepatch with deliberate flair.

You said nothing, your shimmering tail flicking once against the wooden floor, splashing droplets onto his polished boots.

He chuckled, leaning forward, the feather in his hat catching the low lamplight. "Silent treatment, is it? Fair enough. I've always enjoyed a challenge."

You clenched your fists, your lips pressed into a thin line. Your freedom was gone, and this man—this gaudy, insufferable pirate—seemed to delight in your captivity.

Weeks passed aboard the ship, and the game between you and Aventurine began in earnest.

He spoke to you daily, spinning tales of his exploits, offering you trinkets from his plunder, and even playing games of chance where the stakes were your freedom. You refused every gamble, your pride unyielding even as your curiosity grew.

In turn, you sang only when you thought he couldn’t hear—a mournful tune carried by the waves. But Aventurine always listened, his sharp mind piecing together fragments of your story.

"You sing of loss," he said one night, his voice unusually soft. He stood at the door to your makeshift prison, his silhouette framed by moonlight. "Of betrayal. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?"

You flinched at his words but said nothing.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to be trapped, to have your fate decided by others?" He tilted his head, his eyes glinting like twin flames. "But I broke free. And so will you—if you’re clever enough to play the game."

For the first time, you spoke. "You don’t understand the sea’s bindings, pirate. My freedom isn’t yours to give."

The slow burn of trust began with small acts. Aventurine loosened your chains, allowing you to roam the deck under guard. You, in turn, offered him warnings of treacherous waters ahead, saving his ship from disaster more than once.

"You’re not like the stories," you admitted one evening, your voice hesitant.

"Flattered," he replied, grinning. "But you’d be wise to keep your guard up. I play to win, and I always do."

"Always?" you challenged, meeting his gaze.

His grin faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly. "Luck’s been kind to me so far."

Yet you saw through his bravado. Behind the jewels and theatrics was a man haunted by choices, a survivor who carried his guilt like a hidden scar.

The breaking point came during a storm. The ship was battered by relentless waves, its crew scrambling to secure the sails. Aventurine himself took the wheel, his usual calm replaced by a rare intensity.

When a rogue wave threatened to sweep you overboard, he abandoned his post to pull you to safety, his hand gripping yours with a desperation that surprised you both.

"Don’t you dare die on me." he hissed, his voice cracking.

For the first time, you saw him without his mask—a man terrified of loss.

The aftermath of the storm left the ship battered but intact. Aventurine found you sitting on the edge of the deck, your tail dangling in the water.

"You saved me..." you said softly.

He shrugged, his usual grin forced. "Couldn’t let you take all my secrets to the deep, now could I?"

But you weren’t fooled. Slowly, you reached for his hand, your touch tentative but firm. "Thank you."

He stared at your joined hands, his guarded expression faltering. "You’re not supposed to thank me," he muttered. "I’m the villain here, remember?"

"Villains don’t bleed for their captives," you countered, your voice steady.

The ending was bittersweet.

Aventurine kept his promise, releasing you near a hidden cove where the sea glittered like liquid sapphire.

As you slipped into the water, you turned back one last time. "You’ll always be playing, won’t you?"

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "What can I say? The game’s the only thing keeping me afloat."

"Then I hope you win, pirate." you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken understanding.

And with that, you disappeared beneath the waves, leaving Aventurine standing alone on the shore, the ocean stretching endlessly before him.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn romance #captivity and freedom #pirate/mermaid dynamics #forebidden connections #emotional vulnerability #found family themes #bittersweet ending

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froggiewrites · 3 months ago

Text

Mating Call

Pairing: Siren!Doflamingo x Reader

NSFW

Summary: The song is beautiful. The man singing it is even more so. So you do not fight the call to climb the rocks and fall into his arms. You do not fight his warm embrace, his touch, his sweet cooing. This is where you’re meant to be, after all. Who are you to fight against the melody calling you home? Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Dubcon, Mind Control, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Biting, Marking, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 2.7k Halloween Special 2024

The melody was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

It was so soft at first you couldn’t understand why your heart had begun to sing, why your chest began to fill with warmth. You just knew you were at peace here, on this beach, sinking into the sand as the sun washed over you. It was only after you closed your eyes that you could finally hear the song clearly. There were no words, just the delicate warble of somebody else’s soul meeting yours. The harmony of it all compels you to move, to pull yourself out of the sand and start marching toward your destiny.

The voice shifts as you move, between pitches, genders, and emotions, before finally landing on a single one. A man’s voice, the mostly lovely baritone you’ve ever heard, calls to you. Not by name, but in spirit. Fate’s strings pull you forward, leaving footprints in the sand until you can feel the salty water of the sea up to your ankles. Your eyes open as the song grows louder, closer and closer, and you know that the man singing it will be ready to receive you.

Your hands find holds in the rocky wall in front of you, and you scale it with a precision you never knew you had. It’s as though someone else is moving your limbs for you, someone who knows the path like the back of their hand. You don’t slip once, not even when you reach sections wet from the sea, or those slick with something warm and red that you don’t pay any mind to. You’re almost there, and he’s ready and waiting for you.

The song reaches its peak right as your head peeks over the top of the ridge, and you can see him in his full glory: there is an angel waiting for you. His mouth is open wide, his eyes closed in concentration as he sings to you. He’s massive, nearly twice your height, covered in beautiful pink and white feathers that glisten in the light. They catch the sun, the rays dancing between them and almost making him sparkle. His torso disappears into a solid mass of feathers, which grow into legs far more similar to a bird’s than that of a human. Behind him are a massive pair of wings, the span of them large enough to blot out the sun if he so chose. As your feet finally rest at the top, he opens his eyes, which seem to pierce straight through you to your very core. At the same time, you see an image in your mind, so strong it nearly feels real: you, wrapped tightly in those feathers, shielded away from the world as he grants you all of the pleasure you could ever want. You can practically already feel him inside of you, feel his tongue inside of your mouth.

The song quiets as he finally speaks to you. “It could be a reality, little bird.” The moment he stops speaking, he immediately starts humming again, reaching his arms out to you invitingly. He gestures for you to approach, and once again your feet move before your mind does. Your hands reach for him, as though they were always meant to do so, and in an instant you’re surrounded by strong arms as his wings surround you both, blocking out the light and cradling you in their warmth. He smiles at you, the song fading, and you could swear his teeth were just a bit sharper than they were before. “Oh, you’re even lovelier up close.”

“Thank you,” you murmur shyly, suddenly aware of how very close the two of you are. He laughs with delight at the blush on your cheeks, holding you tighter and pressing your chests together.

“Oh, are you shy now? That won’t do.” He hums softly as he leans down and brushes his nose against your neck before nipping you, making you jump and inadvertently push yourself closer to him. Your arms move around his neck like they have a mind of their own. He nearly purrs when you do, so pleased with your acceptance. “There we go. That’s more like it, sweet thing.” He slides his fingers down your back, and you shiver as you realize they’re tipped with razor sharp claws, ones that could shred you in an instant if he wanted them to. You tense for just a moment, before he hums softly again, cooing in such a sweet tone that you can’t help but melt beneath his touch. Images of your union fill your mind again, of tender kisses and passionate embraces, of being laid down against these rocks and being taken again and again and again. He wouldn’t hurt you. He wants you. He needs you.

His head finally leaves your neck, and you get to see his eyes up close. They seem to pull back all of your layers, lay you bare beneath them. They call you forward, and before you realize it, your lips are against his. He makes a quiet noise of surprise, before you’re pulled up closer, your legs wrapping around his torso and his hands resting on your ass. The kiss begins as something almost tender, affectionate, before quickly gaining a heat that shoots straight to your core. His tongue meets yours, and he shifts to allow himself to hold you in only one arm, freeing the other to explore your body as it pleases. He reaches for your chest, letting out a soft noise of pleasure at the feeling of your softness beneath his fingers. He tries to brush against your nipples, before letting out a soft huff at the fabric in the way.

You’re so lost in it all, head fuzzy and warm, the sound of ripping threads doesn’t even startle you. Your bra and shirt are entirely shredded in an instant, falling off of you and drifting to the ground. When you shiver from the cold, his wings press in closer, trapping the heat from both of your bodies together, keeping you warm as his fingers knead at your breasts. His lips break away from yours so he can finally see them fully exposed, and he grins, all teeth. “Lovely little thing,” he murmurs, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

He sucks gently, and you can occasionally feel just a hint of his teeth, slightly too large in his mouth to keep fully away. Every part of him is so terribly sharp, made for ripping and tearing carrion, for breaking bones, for killing small and tender things like you. But he holds back those edges, ever present but never quite threatening. Even as he lavishes your chest with attention, turning rougher, leaving marks that will certainly last, you remain entirely relaxed in his arms, ready to accept anything he’ll give you.

“You’re doing so wonderfully.” He smiles against your skin. “Really, I might have to keep you.” He lets out another quiet trill, and you easily fall back, your weight only supported by his wings. With both his hands free, he easily frees you of your pants and panties, leaving you fully bare. His tongue traces along your torso, down to where you’re dripping and waiting for him. Instead of giving you what you so desperately crave, his attention moves to your thighs, the plush untouched skin just begging to be bitten and marked.

You whine when his teeth make contact. “Please.”

He chuckles. “Please, what?” You moan as his tongue swipes up your thigh, closer to your cunt, but still torturously far. “I’ll get there, little bird. Just be patient.” Despite his scolding words, he seems thrilled at your pleas, preening at every little sob and cry, clearly proud of reducing you to such a state. It is only after you’re near tears that he finally gives in, and he spreads your lips with his fingers, admiring how wet you are.

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a long swipe of his tongue, and you can’t help but throw your head back as you moan. “Delicious. So perfect.”

He clearly savors your taste, eyes briefly falling closed as he allows it to sink in. You let out a needy little sound despite yourself, and you can see the edge of his lip twitch slightly before he opens his eyes, staring into yours, and diving right in. His tongue laps at you, gathering your juices for him to enjoy. As your pleasure builds, overwhelming you, you desperately try to find something to ground yourself. You settle for his shoulders, the soft downy feathers there tickling your palms as you squeeze, holding onto him for dear life. After he hits a particularly sensitive spot, your nails dig into him and he groans. You let go, afraid you’ve hurt him, and he pulls back to bark at you, “No, no, no. Put them back.”

You place your hands on his shoulders again, gently, and he lets out a frustrated huff. “No. Harder. Leave your marks.” At his instruction, you dig your nails in harder than ever before, and you can feel his skin break beneath your fingertips. He moans. “Yes, perfect. And so obedient. I really will have to keep you.”

He goes back to lapping against you with a revived fervor, something new rising inside of him. You continue to dig into his skin, hard enough to bruise, and he lets out a soft groan as the pressure increases. It drives him wild, sends his tongue deeper than before, causes his claws to press into your hips, not breaking the skin but teasing the idea.

“Delicious. Worth missing a few meals for.” He pulls back to show his face is covered in your slick. He licks his lips, gathering more of it on his fingers just to pop them in his mouth. He hums, pleased with your taste, giving you a grin that’s all teeth. “You really were made for me, little bird. I wonder how you’ll enjoy being mine.”

You shiver at the idea. Of being wanted, needed, cherished. “I’m going to love it,” you mutter.

His smile grows wider. “Of course you will, sweet thing. I’m glad you realize that." He moves up, crashing his lips into yours, your own taste filling your mouth. “My pretty little mate, here waiting for me whenever I want you. What a wonderful thing.”

Your mind fills with images of you curled up in a nest, naked and waiting as he approaches. Your arms are always outstretched, welcoming him home, not minding the blood spattered on his beautiful feathers. You accept what he gives you, no matter what it is. A gift, his touch, his cock, you accept it all, pleased to receive anything from him. You spread your legs before he even asks, knowing what he wants, and you allow him to take you. The pleasure is beyond you imagination, every single time, every nerve in your body alight with every touch. The vision, combined with his current ministrations, brings tears to your eyes, as you nearly drown in your pleasure, both current and future.

He licks a tear off of your cheek, groaning as his aching cock ruts into your thigh. “Oh, you perfect little thing. So willing. So wanting. So ready to be had. Do you want me, sweet thing?”

“Yes!”

“Excellent. Then you’ll have me, again and again. Let’s make the first time count.” He slowly sinks into you, moaning in your ear of the feeling of your wetness around him. You wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his shoulder blades, arms tucked directly under the wings that curl around you both. The softness is contrasted by the sharpness of his claws against your hips, and the stiffness inside of you. His hips twitch as he struggles to hold himself back, but you don’t worry for a moment. He wouldn’t be rougher than you could handle, you know. His melodic moans sound in your ears, relaxing your muscles and mind.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of fullness, before he begins a harsh pace, hips slapping against yours, feathers brushing against you with every thrust. He places open mouthed kisses against your neck, gentle bites against your neck that grow harsher as he begins to lose himself. You don’t know if the warmth dripping down your front is your blood or his saliva. You don’t know if you care.

His thrusts grow quicker and quicker, sloppier and sloppier, furiously pounding into you. His breaths are ragged, frantic, as he chases his high. Your chests rub together, your nipples rubbing against both skin and feathers, the sensation overwhelming. You cry out as you come undone around him, clenching around his length, your body desperately trying to pull pleasure out of him with its own. He spills into you with a groan, warmth filling you as he wraps his arms around your waist, trapping you against him.

“Don’t waste a single drop, little bird.”

He waits for a few minutes, keeping you against him, cooing sweet nothings, before he finally decides he is done. He walks across the rocks, claws softly clicking against stone, before speaking again.

“You did wonderfully.”

You lay back, chest heaving, and he lets you go for the first time since you stepped foot onto the rocks. Your back is against something soft, which you think may be his nest. You feel his hands brush against you as he checks you over, ensuring not of his bites were too deep. He lets out a soft coo when he finds everything to his satisfaction. “Excellent, little bird.” You can hear him fussing with something before you feel something in your mouth, fishy and wet. You gag, and he pulls it out with a displeased hum. “Not right, hm? I’ll find something else.”

You hear his footsteps leave, off to find something else to feed you, and you shift onto your side. Your entire body is sore, and you can feel the cum leaking out onto your thighs, sticky and warm. When you stretch your legs, you feel your foot hit something, and the soft clatter of something hitting the ground. The sound is strange, unfamiliar, and when you open your eyes, you see it.

Bones.

You seem to have kicked the femur of some large animal. It knocked into a pile of smaller bones, some tiny and square and some longer and thinner. Something about them is sickeningly familiar. You try to push down the nausea, ignore the thought that if you peeled back your skin you would find something nearly identical beneath it. For a moment in your mind, you see your lover’s teeth and claws sinking into your skin for you, ripping you apart so very easily, coming to him far more naturally than tenderness ever could. Bile rises in your throat, and all of your muscles tense, ready to scream, to run, to throw yourself off of this cliff and into the waters below because you might survive and even if you didn’t it would surely be a kinder fate than this poor thing had.

“Darling?” Your head shoots up to see him again, hands filled with berries, nuts, and other various plants he seems to have gathered for you. His eyes drift to your feet, and you see understanding in them. “Ah. I see. I should have tidied up earlier.”

As he approaches, you prepare to launch yourself past him, to get as far as you can, but his smile is so gentle as he quietly begins to hum. The song grows louder, and you feel your muscles relax as he steps closer. His hand rests on your cheek, claws held carefully away. He lifts a berry to your mouth, and you open it with ease, allowing him to place it on your tongue. It’s sweet.

He tenderly brushes his hand over your head, continuing his song, pulling you into his chest. You curl into him easily. He hand feeds you every morsel he gathered, smiling all the while. “Everything’s alright, little bird. Nothing to fear. I plan on keeping you around for a very long time.”

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl

#doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #donquixote doflamingo #one piece x reader #x reader #doflamingo x y/n #one piece #op #one piece smut

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khuzena · 2 months ago

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Elegy of the hopeless, a savior’s love

Pairing: Sunday & You (g/n)

Synopsis: There will come a day when you will have to choose between fleeting love and lifelong devotion. There was a clear gap between you two. Sunday, the former head of the Family in Penacony, an outcast. You, some nobody who aims to make it big someday, just a nobody. Both outcasts, both commoners. However, Sunday will always be the savior of the people, a man who devotes himself for the freedom and peace of mankind. And you? Someone who’s story is meant to take a different road.

C.w: Angst, trauma, happy ending, he needs therapy, I change my mind you both need therapy

Note: This was written 23 minutes before the release date of 2.7, there may not be any accuracies since I want to write this fanfic as a tribute for Sunday to guarantee a higher chance of getting him with my sad 89 pulls. Thanks.

Sunday was a man who once prided himself for being righteous.

However, the said Halovian was no longer a priest, no longer the decorated head of the Family. Despite this, not once had he abandoned his values, not once had he forsaken the dream he once dreamed as a child, to sing odes of hope and to bring salvation to those who maybe or maybe not worthy of paradise.

He who walks the path of the nameless, will one day make a name for himself. He will carve his own place in paradise, even if the world no longer deems him as a prophet.

Yet, he hadn’t expected falling for someone. Someone of your stature.

Before you both knew it, your affections for each other grew, and so was his devotion for you. But he had to choose between his goals and you.

His mind was riddled with memories that continue to haunt him. The piano keys carried the weight of his sins the more he played a low tune. A debut between who he was, and who he is.

That fateful day marked the day his faith was tested.

One, two, three.

The notes reverberated softly in the dimly lit room, his fingers brushing over the keys with a precision honed by years of practice. But each sound struck a chord in his mind, dragging him back to memories he’d rather bury. He couldn’t ignore how the melody warped, pulling him into the shadows of his past. The rise to power, the unrelenting pursuit of his dreams, the countless lives he’d affected—knowingly or not. The moments where he trapped innocent people in his grand vision, their lives twisted into threads of a tapestry only he could see.

He felt the weight of it all pressing on him, a phantom force tightening around his chest. Each note seemed to mock him, whispering accusations he couldn’t escape.

Then, there was you.

Some idiot from the Astral Express, bright-eyed and reckless, who somehow wormed your way into his life. You were no better than the Trailblazer—maybe even worse, an enabler of chaos and bad decisions. Yet you carried a dream so simple, so pure it made him envious: to travel the universe, collect stories, and one day become a writer whose words would immortalize the memories you crafted with your own hands.

Envy. Was that the right word?

How could he envy you?

You brought him peace, a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in years. Piece by piece, you shattered the walls he had meticulously built around his heart. At first, it was the small things: teasing jabs, lighthearted jokes that made him bristle, then laugh despite himself. But before he realized it, you had become something far greater. He longed for you, craved your presence like a man starved of affection.

Sunday, who had never known love, yearned for something he could barely understand. He wanted your arms around him, grounding him under a sky filled with stars, your voice whispering that everything would be okay. That he would be okay. That he was more than the sum of his sins.

But the past never let him rest.

The piano’s melody faltered as memories clawed at him. The faces of those he’d hurt flashed before his eyes: expressions of fear, betrayal, and pain. He saw himself standing above them all, a figure of absolute power yet utterly alone. His hands, now gloved, trembled as he remembered what they’d done—what they’d created, what they’d destroyed.

“Sunday?”

Your voice broke through the haze, shattering the storm of his thoughts. He glanced up, startled, to see your concerned face. There was no hatred in your eyes, no judgment—only that familiar warmth that felt so foreign to him.

“You’re thinking too much again. What’s on your mind?”

He wanted to tell you. He wanted to lay bare every ugly, broken part of himself. But the words caught in his throat. What if you saw him as the monster he believed himself to be? What if your kindness was a fragile mask, hiding resentment and disgust?

“I’m just thinking,” he lied, the words barely audible.

You didn’t believe him. With a small shake of your head, you slipped onto the bench beside him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Everything,” he admitted after a long pause, his voice laced with exhaustion.

The truth spilled from him in that single word: his fall from grace, the haunting memory of his sister’s absence, the crushing weight of his failures. He was at war—with himself, for you. He couldn’t save you from the wreckage of his mind, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of pushing you away.

“You should go to bed,” you murmured gently. “We’re dropping off at Amphoreus tomorrow.”

He didn’t move, his hands returning to the piano. The melody that filled the room was softer now, almost mournful. Each note resonated with the echoes of his guilt, yet drowned them out just enough for him to keep playing.

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop thinking.”

He wished he could.

Another kiss, then another.

“Just play the piano,” you whispered. “I’m still here.”

The tears threatened again, hot and stinging, but he swallowed them down. He didn’t deserve to cry—not for himself, not for his sins. Instead, he focused on the weight of your head on his shoulder, the steady rhythm of your breathing.

“Play your favorite song,” you suggested, your voice a soft murmur. “It’ll help.”

For a moment, his hands hovered over the keys. Then, slowly, he began to play. The melody was one he and Robin had composed as children—back when the world was simple, their dreams untouched by the cruelty of reality. The tune carried a bittersweet nostalgia, weaving through the room like a ghost of their innocence.

He glanced at you as he played. Your eyes sparkled with wonder, watching him like he was worth something more than his mistakes. At that moment, he almost believed it.

“I’m listening,” you said softly, your voice fading as you drifted into sleep.

His shoulders still bore the weight of his past, but with you resting against him, it felt a little lighter. The melody shifted, becoming softer, gentler. One day, he thought, he would compose something even more beautiful—something worthy of you.

Until then, he would keep playing. For you. For himself. For the chance to heal, note by note.

Maybe one day, he could repay your kindness a hundred times over.

Note: very rushed ig bc I started at 10:37 am and ended at 11:59 am bc I wanted to write this as tribute for the 2.7 update. !!! I don't know but jf there's any errors let me know lol my keyboard was so loud going TACK TACK TACKKK

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail angst #hsr angst #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #hsr sunday #sunday fluff #sunday smut #sunday angst #honkai star rail smut #what have i done

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scudevils · 1 month ago

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santa’s grotto — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, max is not a smooth talker, not proofread!!

inspired by: “elf” the movie [2.0k]

a/n: so this has like a teeny bit of elf to it also fitting since max is about to become a dilf. it’s also criminal this is like our only christmas max picture that isnt from <2017

it was the busiest time of year at the store you worked at, your minimum wage job definitely didn't pay you enough for the work you were putting in, and you had never been more exhausted. although you were definitely ready to shred whatever self respect you had left to dress up one of santa's elves at the mall's grotto, as it was extra money on top of what you earned. it was easy enough too, spending your days helping children onto santa's lap, listening to their wish lists, and assisting in keeping the holiday magic alive.

the shopping centre was covered in festive decorations, the centre tree being the highlight of them all, although there were a fee smaller ones dotted around the place, holiday music, and, of course, long lines of parents and excited children eager for their turn at the chance on santa's lap.

despite the long shifts, you loved your job, it was easy money and the atmosphere was joyful, and seeing the kids' faces light up as they spoke to santa was always worth it. it'd been your third year running around as one of the elves, making sure whatever present the kids had asked santa for was reported back to their parent, and this year was just as simple as the other.

you'd heard the buzz from one of your coworkers, layla, about someone famous coming to visit for a charity event in one of the pop up stores visiting for the weekend, singing autographs and taking pictures and she'd been dying to meet them. the name in the back of your mind somewhere but you couldn't quite place it.

you were in the middle of helping a little boy tie his shoes when you noticed the increased amount of people surrounding the little grotto, camera's flashing in the distance gave you an idea on who was about to round the corner. his cap was pulled down across his face, but his team wear still made him stand out like a sore thumb, and his hand held that of a little boy's beside him, shielding him from the onslaught of pictures.

"that's him." you heard layla whisper to you, a small laugh falling from your lips as you watched the way her eyes were on him like a hawk, she was definitely a fan. she was trying to act natural, focusing on the task she had of keeping the children and parents in an organised line, and you took it as an opportunity to look the man over, trying to pinpoint where you'd seen the logo on his shirt but you couldn't quite remember, but as you finally looked at his face you'd been caught, a small smile being sent your way and turned around before causing anymore embarrassment to yourself.

he joined the line like everyone else, layla not so secretly hoping she'd get to take him into santa's grotto and you went in on a rotation one after the other, and as fate had it, you'd gotten him which she'd realised, and you were close to switching with her and you'd seen how her smile dropped upon the realisation when the parent in front complained about how long they were taking to go in.

finally, they were at the front of the queue, the boy beside him with a smile that could light up an entire room, tugging on max's sleeve as he pointed out the strung up decorations. you crouched down beside him, getting down to his level as you spoke to him. "hello there, who might you be?"

"i'm luca!" he smiled at you, so wide you could see the teeth he was missing and it melted your heart, these were the moments that made your job worth it. "this is uncle maxie." he tugged on his sleeve again, forcing the driver down to both of your levels now, and you couldn't help the smile that stretched across your face.

you quickly introduced yourself back to them, taking a look back inside to see if layla was nearly done before turning back to luca and max. "santa's been waiting for you, do you want to come and see him." just as you were trained, you let your hand fall down for him to hold if he wanted, and max flashed you as smile, it was embarrassing how your heart rate picked up at the sight, as his nephew took it, walking into the makeshift cabin.

you led them to santa's chair where his nephew sat down, looking around amazed by the setup, from the warmly decorated tree in the corner to the candy

canes that decorated the room, the smell of gingerbread unavoidable as you entered the grotto. the santa was an older man with a thick white beard, ready for photos and you couldn't help but feel a little giddy at the thought of seeing max up close, he had a charming aura about him, something with how big of a celebrity that layla had described him to

you as you wouldn't have expected.

"i'm guessing your not just a regular uncle taking his nephew to see santa?" you probed him, one to start a conversation and two to figure out where you actually knew him. you werent the one to take

max let out a small laugh, letting his head tip back and you couldn't help but smile at his reaction, the dimples on full show as he grinned. "you don't know who i am?" he asked and you shook your head. "sorry that came off as a little self important."

you werent the one to take the photo's inside the grotto, that was left to your other coworker danny, who'd been getting luca to take pictures with all sort of faces on them, one's he was sure he'd make his uncle get for him. "i dont think i've ever seen him this happy with strangers."

you smiled, adjusting your elf hat, tipping it towards him as if it was a cowboy hat and you loved the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. "it's all part of the magic," you said, feeling a bit of pride in your work, it truly did bring some people joy. "you get used to it, but it's fun. and the kids absolutely love it. i'm sure you love what you do to."

"i do, i mean it's fun and i know people enjoy it which makes it worth it." he looked like he was about to say something else but stopped himself, and you knew danny could only take so many pictures before santa was to give luca his gift but you wanted to talk to him more. "i'm pretty good at it too."

before you could respond, danny sent you a signal that he wanted max in the picture with luca and santa, and you quickly stepped aside. they posed for a few photos with santa, looking completely at home in front of the camera as he grinned down as his nephew. there was something about the way he interacted with him and opened the present he'd gotten from santa that caused you to smile, catching max's eye and he smiled back at you, until finally their time was up and the next child was coming through.

before they left the exit of the grotto, max approached you. "thanks for making this memory for him," he said, his smile genuine. "it was fun."

"no problem! it was my pleasure," you replied, smiling down at the little boy beside him, who was practically grinning ear to ear with the toy he'd been given. "you know, he was supposed to open that on christmas."

max shrugged his shoulders, ruffling luca's hair before looking back at you. "i'm the uncle, i'm meant to spoil him."

"you hear that luca," you crouched down to his level again, taking the elf hat off of your head and placing it on his own, knowing you had countless more in the store to put on, "you're gonna get spoiled."

"don't put idea's in his head, i might not live up to them." max offered you a playful grin.

"i'm sure you'll manage."

the store was just near closing now, your elf costume long been took off and you were back into your regular clothes, being the last one left in the store to lock up as layla had left around an hour before your shift finished. the store was ready to go for the storming of christmas shoppers it was bound to get tomorrow, decorations hanging from the ceiling and trees decorated around the shop floor.

a small cough from behind you snapped you out of your thoughts, although jumping out of your skin was more accurate to say as you attempted to slow down your rapid heartbeat, letting out a sigh of relief when you realised it'd only been a customer and you must've forgotten to put the shutter down.

"didn't know it i had to return this or not." the familiar dutch accent punctuated his words, the sound of his voice more attractive to you than you would have liked to admit. "that's a shit excuse to come back isn't it?"

“i'm glad you're self aware." you joked, back to him as you hung up a couple more baubles on trees dotted around the store, making sure each had enough to look full but not cluttered. "can't believe thee max verstappen came back to see me."

you could hear him let out a small laugh, the shuffling of shoes against the ground and he was right behind you, crouching down to hang the bauble on the tree next to the one you just put down. "i see you done some research."

your pulse quickened, embarrassed at how him being close to you gor you nervous, you didn't even know the guy yet he had some sort of an effect on you, but you ignored the feeling and shrugged your shoulders. "helps when you have a friend mad about racing, you should really meet her, she's a lewis fan though."

you didn't miss the way he smiled after rolling his eyes at your words, or the way your skin felt like it was on fire as he placed a hand on your shoulder to stop what you were doing and face him. "i came back, to say i thought you were really pretty, and if i could have your number."

he slightly mumbled the last part, becoming jumbled in the overall sentence and you giggled at his nerves. "yknow, for an f1 driver i was expecting more charisma," you teased him but still pulled out your phone, passing it to the dutchman who'd half expected you to reject him and encouraging him to put his own in your phone.

"are you busy right now?" he rubbed the back of his neck as he asked, a little awkwardly but it made him even more endearing to you, and when you glanced down to the undecorated sections of the tree he quickly corrected himself. "i can help you decorate?"

the grin on your face reassured his nerves as he let out the breath he'd been holding in, beginning to pick out the baubles from the pile and laughing as you swatted away the ones that were too similar from going near each other, at some point he'd taken the elf hats from one of the piles and placed them on both of your heads, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to give him a shot.

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yandere-daze · 1 year ago

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I´ve had this idea plague my mind for the last few days and now it´s finally time for me to unleash it onto the world. Feel free to comment on or ask questions about this idea/ AU if you find it interesting!

This work was inspired by the normalized yandere genshin AU I stumbled upon while scrolling through Tumblr, created by @fancyfeathers

Hope you enjoy!

gn reader

2,2k words

tw yandere, normalized yandere behaviour, mentions of obsession, possessiveness, kidnapping, stalking, murder, emotional manipulation and isolation

Yandere! Genshin Academy/Normalized Yandere AU

In this AU, yanderes are a normal and accepted part of society. Not only are their toxic attitudes and behaviours permitted but even encouraged. Somehow, over the years, people have even started to wish for a yandere as their partners. By Teyvat society at large, yanderes are seen as somewhat of an ideal partner. They´re fiercely loyal and would do absolutely anything for their darlings, right?

And yet, many darlings sing a different tune when reality suddenly comes crashing down onto them when a yandere actually starts pursuing them. Fantasizing about things such as being kidnapped is simply something entirely different compared to experiencing the real thing. And yet, when they call out for help from their loved ones, they´re simply patted on their back and congratulated. Some might even express their condolences to the poor yandere, saying that it always takes a bit of time for a darling to realize that this is for the best.

You are one of the few people who are completely horrified by the concept of a yandere and even more so to see everyone around you treat kidnappings or murder sprees as something completely normal or even romantic. You shudder at the thought of ever attracting the attention of a yandere, knowing that you would have no one to help you avoid that dreadful fate.

Which is why your complete world is turned upside down when you´ve been registered at the wrong academy by mistake. An administrative error, you were told. One, that might take a few weeks or even months to correct.

Now normally, you would have been annoyed but fine with this. You would just have to bear with it for a bit and attend a different school until the error is fixed and you can finally go to your desired one.

But you felt a pool of dread form deep within you when you did some research on the academy you had been wrongly assigned to. It actually wasn´t all that easy to find information on the academy, which you found strange, seeing as this has never been an issue with any other well-regarded academy. But no matter how much you search, nothing concrete is to be found. Only a few abandoned forum posts where people asked around about their missing friend who had last been seen close to the academy in question.

It made you feel a bit uneasy but you figured that it probably didn´t have anything to do with the academy itself. As sad as it was, disappearances were happening all over Teyvat, so this one case wasn´t really of note.

But seeing as you couldn´t find anything else, you figured that you would just need to figure things out on your first day attending the academy.

And oh, were you in for a nasty surprise.

As soon as you sat down for your first lesson, you noticed how strange the atmosphere was. Everyone had been staring at you so strangely when you entered the room, it kind of unnerved you.

After that, a few introductions were exchanged and you slowly calmed down again. Your classmates seemed nice enough and you thought that maybe, your time here wouldn´t be so bad after all.

All that quickly changed when your professor finally entered the room and introduced himself as the instructor who would teach you the subject of "stalking".

Turning your head left and right, you tried to see if anyone else was as shocked about this as you were but to your surprise, no one even raised an eyebrow at this very concerning introduction.

A class on stalking? Maybe this wasn´t what you actually feared and more so a clumsy way of saying that this would be a psychology class focusing on the mental effects stalking has on the victims? With all these yanderes running around unchecked, there were bound to be many victims and so a class like this might actually be beneficiary. I mean surely they wouldn´t actually try to teach young adults how to kidnap someone, right?

Right?

Well, it turns out you were wrong when the professor started outlining different forms of stalking. Following "your darling" around, stalking them online, placing cameras or microphones in their rooms to observe them anytime you wanted.

Your mind was spiraling as you listened to the lecture and you briefly wondered at just what kind of an academy you had been enlisted in. Surely this must be some kind of joke, right? A prank played on newcomers at the academy to get them spooked? Surely someone is going to come in any moment, clear all of this up and then laugh at you actually falling for this?

But no matter how much you hoped for this to be the case, no one was coming. No one was making fun of you for falling for such an obvious prank. In fact, none of your classmates seemed perturbed at all by what was being taught here. How could they be okay with a lesson that basically amounted to "how to stalk someone 101"? You felt like you were losing your mind.

Glancing to your right, you see your blond deskmate eagerly nodding along to whatever the professor was saying and swiftly taking notes whenever a sentence seemed to particularly strike a chord with him. His red eyes practically sparkled as he outlined "helpful tips and tricks for not alerting your darling of your presence" on his paper, using a text marker to highlight a particular passage as if to say that it would come in handy in the future.

On your left, you saw another tall male student and for a moment you hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was someone else here who was bothered by the lecture given. He had a bored look on his face and he was wearing some type of headphones over his grey hair. Was he even paying attention? Maybe he was trying to cancel out the horrific lecture taking place at the moment.

You discreetly leaned over a bit, only to see that he was actually holding a book hidden under the desk, his eyes carefully following the paragraphs of tiny letters. Well, it seems like he certainly wasn´t paying much attention to the lecture because what he was secretly reading seemed to be some advanced material on the success rate of different methods of stalking, from the looks of it.

You quickly turned your head back when you saw him glancing over at you with an unreadable stare. Well, it looks like your hopes were dashed again after all. This guy was nuts too.

Knowing this, you really couldn´t do much aside from waiting for class to be over.

Your small hope that this was just a really strange outlier was quickly destroyed again in your following classes.

Next was a class on emotional manipulation and how to get your darling to depend on you.

Then, a class on how to force yourself into your darling´s life and how to approach growing closer to them.

Finally, the day ended with a lecture on how to kidnap your darling and make them disappear without a trace.

As the bell finally rung, the professor informed your class that there was also an optional class about how to effectively "get rid" of a rival that you can sign up for. You pretended to not be bothered when several students raised their hands to show their interest in attending this course.

You scrambled to get out of your seat as fast as possible, not wanting to stay in this hellish classroom for even a second later. You fled into the hallway and walk by groups of students excitedly chattering about things you didn´t want to listen to.

"Oh, I hope I can find my darling soon! I just know I´ll feel a special connection when we first make eye contact! I´ve been waiting for so long", the first girl swooned as she twirled strands of her long brown hair around her finger, seemingly lost in her own fantasies.

"Agreed. I know that once I meet my darling, I won´t let anything get between us. I will never let them go. It´s only a matter of time", the taller, blue-haired woman chimed in, her voice calmer than that of her excitable friend.

You didn´t like the way her eyes linger on you as you pass by them.

Once home, you tried to make contact with the administrative office again to ask them if the process of your transfer can be sped up in any way. You didn´t want to spend another second in that academy.

With what you have seen today, you were easily able to deduce the true nature of this academy and it left you absolutely terrified.

The fact that you weren´t able to find any information about the academy beforehand, your strange classmates fixated on their potential "darlings" and of course the horrid classes being taught there.

Somehow, you have ended up in an academy for yanderes. Every single person you saw there today was a lovesick lunatic in some shape or form. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were in huge danger there. What would your crazed classmates do if they ever found out that you actually weren´t a fellow yandere but someone they could claim as a "darling"? The very thought of it makes you sick. You have to get out of there immediately!

Which is why your heart dropped when after some long hesitation, the person on the phone finally answered you.

"You must excuse me but I´m afraid to tell you that there have been some... unforeseen circumstances that do not permit me to work on your case at the moment. I have been asked to postpone this matter until further notice".

"What? Why?", is all you could manage to say in your befuddlement. You knew bureaucracy can take a long time but for this woman to specifically be asked to postpone this? Just what was going on here?

Again, the woman on the phone hesitated to answer and you could hear a tinge of nervousness in her voice when she finally spoke up. As if she wasn´t sure if she was allowed to say what she was about to.

"I´m afraid that I´m not at liberty to provide this information. The person asking me to...focus on different cases for the meantime wished to stay anonymous. Even so, it is not within my power to refuse their wishes as they have provided our establishment with a generous donation. I sadly cannot help you with this issue", at least the woman did sound generally apologetic but that didn´t really help you in this situation.

Your mind was still reeling as you processed this information. Someone specifically asked for your transferal to not be worked on? Why would anyone do this? And they seemed to have a large fortune too? Why all this to make you stay around?

It can´t be that you already attracted someone´s attention while at the academy, right? Surely that couldn´t be true! You made sure to not interact with anyone directly after you realized just what kind of people attended this school. How could one of these yanderes have "fallen for you" already?

It seemed so utterly unbelievable and if you were being honest, you didn´t want to believe that it was true either. But nothing else made sense. Why would anyone do this otherwise?

Noticing your prolonged silence, the woman spoke up once more.

"I´m sure that all of this will be resolved soon. It will only be a few months. I am sure you will find many friends at your current school soon."

You sure hoped not. The thought of being noticed by any of the yanderes already made the hairs on your neck rise. You vowed to stay away from anyone who even showed a fleeting interest in you. You had to keep yourself safe until you can finally switch schools. You could do this, you had to!

You barely registered when the woman bid you farewell and hung up the phone after you once again didn´t answer her.

Now completely alone, you forged a plan. If you didn´t want to get involved in anything dangerous, no one could find out that you were actually here by mistake and not a yandere. Nothing could be worse than these lunatics finding out that you´re a darling, so you´ll have to be very careful. But how do you do this?

Well, it seemed like you must act like a yandere yourself. You would have to pretend that you´re a lovesick fool who totally isn´t bothered by all this talk about kidnapping, stalking, and murder. Thinking about it again already made you sick but you didn´t really have any other options. No one could find out or it was over for you.

You only hoped that you could convincingly play the part and that no one was perceptive enough to see right through you. Well, it couldn´t be that hard, right?

Surely no one already had their eye on you. Right?

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

Note

HEAR ME OUT JAY— i’ve also been on a gojo kick too😩 i literally have no medical knowledge but thinking of gojo x reader angsty where he has to set one of our broken bones after a battle lowk has me giggling and kicking my feet UGEHHEHEHE

take your time w requests!! take care of yourself, lysm thank you sosososoosos much🫶🏻🫶🏻

blood n' bone.

note: hey honeypie!! yeah istg gojo has a death grip on my mind the dude doesn't let me think of anyone else rn. anyways, i have little medical knowledge on this too but i tried my best !!

warnings — lowercase used, injury ( knee dislocation, bone setting ), blood visuals, angst ( with fluff, happy ending 👍 ), he calls u angel, i think it might be implied fem reader ??

" are you okay ?! a—re you hur — oh shit, fuckfuckfuck that's bad. that's bad... okay. um. just breathe. just breathe! don't worry, you ain't gonna die sweetheart. look at me, ok — question. do you trust me ? "

" what on earth do you plan to do ? " you ask gojo wearily.

you look at him, the pain fogs your mind. it's so painful; a blinding, piping white hot pain, one that singes all your senses. it's all you focus on until you look into those soothing blue eyes.

he's hovering over you, eyeing out your knee and the gory scene of your battle-bloodied body. he's got your blood on his hands already. it hurts his heart more than anything to see you in pain.

part of him hates you, because if you had just listened to him and stayed out of this battle, then this wouldn't have happened. but you were so stubborn about staying at his side. and then part of him is thankful, because he didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be without his girl just in case he didn't make it out alive. he didn't want someone else to come to you and bear the news that he's not coming home. gojo was selfish; if he died, he wanted to take you with him.

but he was fine. you were fine. well, "fine" besides the fact your knee was dislocated.

" do you trust me or not ? " he asks again.

" yes. " you say truthfully. of course you did, he's been your one and only since birth; the gojo clan and your clan were intertwined by fate. you and him have been in each other's lives since you were toddlers throwing tantrums.

there's a memory that comes to gojo when he places his calloused hands on your knee. it's a memory from his childhood with you.

one day, you fell and scraped your knees. gojo found you curled up, crying alone in an alley. " what the hell ? why didn't you come find me ? let's go back to my house. i'll carry you. yes of course i can carry you ! i'm stronger than you ! "

he takes his blindfold and puts it in your mouth, " need you to bite on this, angel. "

" hmmmf ?! " the reality of what he was about to do set in. but how could it be more painful than the dislocation itself?

there's no question that he can set your bone. he's the strongest; of course he can.

you watch his bicep muscles flex, his grip firm. he hesitates, breathe ragged like he's nervous. then you hear a loud pop and instantly scream blue murder into the fabric; it doesn't really do a good job of muffling the sound. it pierces gojo's heart.

" angel, angel — look at me. breathe. it's okay. i've got you. it's alright. it's really alright. angel ? there, just stay in my arms like th-this. you're okay now. i know it hurts, but you're okay. " his hair is messy, your blood is all over him, and you yourself look chaotic; but still you look beautiful to him. your face comforts him like no other; he's always had excited pangs in his chest when you walk into a room or show up at a battle.

he's always shared your pain. he's a highly sensitive, emotional boy but conceals it well; when you're in pain, he's in pain. when you're sad, he's sad. when you're happy, he's happy. and hence, if you would have died, he would have died. you're tied together by an invisible thread, the two of you couldn't escape each other even if you wanted to. at times, you hated how you always found your way back to him; especially when you and him had that fallout in your twenties after your dating life interfered with your friendship.

but your hostility towards each other ended, of course it did. and now you and him were always at each other's side. handholding, just like when you were kids exploring your little village.

" let's go home. " he murmurs, soothing you with his voice and the gentle feeling he radiated.

" i can't walk. " you mumble, " it hurts. "

" i'll carry you. "

" we're not little kids anymore, you can't carry me. "

" what the hell ! of course i can carry you; i'm the strongest. "

you smile, remembering that memory only now. " you're right. you are. "

his heart flutters hearing you agree for the first time. of course you always knew he was the strongest, it was indisputable. but you liked to tease him.

" better believe it . . . now wrap those arms 'round my neck. "

he wears a stupid, proud smile on his face while he carries you. when you're home, you feel extremely grateful.

" it's good to be home, huh, satoru ? " you say, knee bandaged and propped up.

he's given you pain medication by now. there's the background noise of the TV, and golden afternoon light sieving through the sheer curtains.

" home is wherever you are. " he says earnestly.

whenever he says things like this, it's always in a soft voice, almost like he's too shy to let you know his true feelings.

you feel warm, homely; and so does he.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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unoislazy · 1 year ago

Text

‘Til The Caged Bird Sings

(Part 1)

Mizu x Mixed! Fem! Reader

Disclaimer; This is less of a chapter and more of a prologue for what’s to come.

I see your requests and I have begun to work on a few of them, but I have a few ideas that I had started previously that I would like to get to first. Thank you for your patience.

————————————————————

Marriage was not something you expected to be a part of your life. You truly believed you would never find someone who completed you enough to be set on sealing the deal. All the men you had met were arrogant and egotistical, so hellbent on fueling their ego that they refused to treat you like a human being. They believed that if they had been seen being paired with an ‘unreal’ like you, they would lose any fortune or honor they might have had, no matter how small. If that was how you would be treated, maybe that wasn't the life for you. Your life was by no means glamorous, if you had married it wouldn’t have been for monetary gain by anysense, for your parents maybe, but you got the short end of the stick no matter what. It more than likely would simply have been just to extend someone else's family lineage, then again who would want to have impure blood mixed with their own. Other than the desperate men who were practically chomping at the bit to get you, likely just to sell you off to someone else.

Not wanting anything like that for yourself, you had given up your life at home in favor of living a peaceful life on your own, far away from anyone who could treat you otherwise. You stayed out of people's way and just went about business as usual.

That was until you had met Mizu.

Your paths had crossed in the most unusual way, almost as if it was fate. You had met her on a day that you had to visit the market, which was peculiar on its own considering you very rarely went into town. You hadn’t seen her get into a fight, but you did witness the very bloody outcome first hand. You knelt down before her bloody body which had been just haphazardly strewn about against a wall. She struggled to keep her eyes open as they shifted to you, you were unsure if she could even see you properly but you could just barely make out the blue hue as her eyelids began to shut.

She was a mess and no one else around her seemed to care. You didn’t have much medicinal knowledge but you thought it right to help with what you could. So, you slung her over the back of your horse along with the supplies you had bought and made your way back to your home.

And that is where she stayed.

She was extremely skeptical at first, extremely jumpy and quite hesitant to even allow you to get near her. It took some convincing but eventually she had learned to trust you, even just the slightest bit. You meant no harm to her and she eventually came to realize that. She didn’t understand why, you owed her nothing, you didn't even know who she was but you still helped. You paid no mind to her skepticism or her ‘flaws’ and continued to treat her just as you saw fit.

Because you knew what it was like to be considered a demon.

You too had mixed blood and because of that you had always been cast away, looked down upon, and pushed to the side without another thought. You had been poked and prodded at like you were some otherworldly being that amounted to nothing more than the mud underneath people's shoes.

Once you both came to the realization that you had this fact in common, your relationship slowly began to build from there.

Because of Mizu’s injured state you both spent a lot of time around each other and while Mizu wasn’t incredibly talkative at first she had begun to open up to you. You two began to share stories with each other, spend late nights together, sometimes just sitting in silence enjoying each other's company. You had never met someone who had so much in common with you and neither had she, you both completed each other in a way that you almost didn’t think to be true. It took a while for you to gain her trust, but once you had you two were inseparable. Every chore you had around the house, Mizu insisted on helping, any place you needed to go, Mizu insisted on coming with. She never left your side and you never truly left hers either.

For once in her life, Mizu had finally begun to feel comfortable around someone, which was something she wasn’t able to say for a long time. She had gotten comfortable enough that she no longer felt the need to wear her glasses or pull her hair so far back, or even wear the baggy clothes she had initially gotten used to wearing. When she was around you, she felt as if she could truly be herself, she could wear whatever she wanted, she could finally let go as if no one was waiting to ridicule her and strike her down.

She felt safe.

She didn’t think she’d ever get to say that about anyone but there she was, standing before you, a few years later. You both were dressed in your best attire as you conducted a very makeshift ceremony. You both knew it wouldn’t be legal for you to get married officially, it was one thing that you both were mixed and it was an entirely new issue that you were both women. So you decided to do it yourself, sure it wouldn’t be legally recognized, but who cares? All that matters is that you both agreed that you loved each other enough to want to vow to protect each other at any cost. If anything, you appreciated it more than what was normally done and said at weddings.

You couldn’t be happier. You lived a quiet life, now with a wonderful wife by your side who was willing to do practically anything for you, and you would do the same for her. One day you had decided to surprise her by going out to buy a horse for her, you figured it would be better than you both just trading your poor old horse. You laughed as you watched Mizu attempt to groom the horse she had picked; with Mizu being Mizu, she chose the most stubborn one anyone could have possibly gone for. You watched on as she cautiously reapproached the rambunctious stallion, surprised she had gotten so far to begin with.

You leaned your head on your hands as you rested your weight on the wooden fence of the field, your eyes not once leaving Mizu as you focused on what you could see of her facial features.

She was probably one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. How any one could’ve even considered to claim that she was a demon or a monster, you would never know. She might have started off quite rude and abrasive but you couldn’t blame her for that, you would’ve too if one minute you were on the street and the next in some random person's house. But once her personality began to shine through and she began to slowly reveal parts of herself piece by piece, you slowly began to fall for her. You would’ve been a fool not to.

You snapped out of your thoughts, refocusing on Mizu, watching as her eyes squinted ever so slightly as she began to smile, her efforts paid off so she approached the stallion without any added effort. You cheered for her, walking onto the field with her as she continued to ever so gently pet the stallion.

“I told you I could.” She gloated in a joking manner, turning to you with a very proud smile on her face.

“And I never said you couldn’t.” You responded, matching her tone with a smile. She had taken her hand off of the horse and turned to face you as you linked your arm with hers, pulling yourself much closer to her.

“You thought about it.” She teased while sending you a challenging, yet very playful, glare.

“I did not.” You laughed at the childish nature of the conversation. You never would have guessed that stoic woman you had met years before would even think to have a conversation such as this.

You gave the woman a very soft peck on the cheek before telling her,

“I’m going to go back into the house to finish up some things, are you coming with me?” You asked. She thought about it for a second before turning back to her newly befriended horse,

“No, I think I’ll spend a little more time out here with him.” She replied, to which you smiled and nodded.

You made your way back inside, humming a tune that you had heard playing when you had visited the market last. It was light and airy, one that reminded you of something a songbird might sing. The notes were so fluttery it made you feel at peace, as if nothing could harm you.

You walked inside your home, shutting the door behind you as you continued to hum the tune. You grabbed your unfinished embroidery project and some thread and walked towards the spot where you usually sat when you were to complete a very long task. You had been so engrossed in your task you had yet to notice the three other people that also occupied the room.

By the time you had noticed their presence however, it had been too late.

“Hey, I think we need to go out and buy more fruits we don’t-” Mizu paused, Her eyes widening as she looked on at the scene before her. The house you shared, now in complete mess, the table toppled over, bits and pieces of different decorations you both had now torn to shreds and thrown about on the floor. The embroidery that you had been working on had been left, thrown carelessly to the side and still unfinished.

The worst thing Mizu had come across was a few droplets of blood that had been left on the floor.

What if it was your blood? What if they had harmed you?

Luckily though, because of the amount of blood that had been left, it was clear that the wound had not been too deep.

But if it had been your blood, whoever had raised a hand to harm you was going to wish they had never made such a careless mistake

#x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #i love mizu #mizu come home the kids miss you #mizufics #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai fanfic #mizu blue eye samurai #fanfiction #fanfics #mizu x reader #bes mizu #unoislazy #prologue

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revehae · 1 year ago

Text

our little secret

pairing ↠ baby step-sister!ningning x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, manipulation, noncon to initiate, corruption

summary ↠ your little stepsister is the only good thing to come of your father’s new marriage and you become more obsessed with her by the day, until you just can’t hold yourself back anymore.

wc ↠ 3.2k

a/n ↠ this is a repost!

don’t like it, don’t read.

no one could say that you hadn’t tried to suppress your urges, to subdue the roaring sea of thoughts that heaved wildly throughout your mind. there ningning was a siren, seducing you with her ever so enchanting song - or, in this case, her body.

the day each of you met stood a vivid memory. beforehand, you never recalled actually anticipating having a step-sibling, though all of that came to an abrupt end the very second you laid eyes on her. ningning’s beauty was so great that if not for her being your step-sister, you would have believed only aphrodite could have bore her. you became enthralled by her looks in a matter of moments, the way her skimpy clothing did nothing to conceal her body, and how she had this indelible air of innocence to her.

an eternity had passed since that fateful day, though little had changed; you were still besotted with your little step-sister, even more so now that you had become closer.

she was just the sweetest girl. ever naive, though still sweet. you had no greater wish than to prime her into your ragdoll, to teach her that your filthy way of thinking was normal - and, of course, she would believe you. it wasn’t like anyone as impressionable as ningning knew any better.

and she was still hot. ningning possessed the utmost painful habit of walking around the house in the tiniest shorts there was to offer, tops and skirts too, bending over so much that she must have been begging for it. she was clingy, affectionate, loving to crawl into you, and during those moments you could feel her the warmth of her body flush against yours.

which, of course, did nothing but drive you mad.

ningning’s sweet voice called out your name. you always loved it when she did. given she had the voice of angel, all it made you do was imagine her sprawled out underneath you, crying out your name in bouts of pleasure. though, you steered yourself out of your reverie, responding and swiftly leaping off of the sofa to enter the kitchen where she stood. fulfilling the needs of your little sister was a pleasure to you.

before you even stepped completely into the kitchen, your eyes fell upon the sight enticing between her plush thighs. ningning was bowed over the countertop, a hand waving aimlessly at one of the cabinet shelves beyond her reach. courtesy of the tiny miniskirt she wore, her underwear was on perfect display. too, her ass, which made it all but impossible not to ogle her.

seemingly not noticing the way you leered at her, ningning glanced at you with her big, round eyes, sticking out her bottom lip. “can you help me get this cup off the shelf?”

if you weren’t already throbbing, you sure as hell were now. with a plan brewing in mind, you simply bobbed your head and walked over behind her - crotch pressed to her rear - reaching for the cup she longed to grab. you placed it on the counter before her and she broke into a smile, proceeding to thank you. you told her you’re welcome, yet when she went to move, you wouldn’t let her, snaking one arm around her waist and letting the other wander underneath her skirt.

“y/n, what are you doing?” ningning stammered, eyes widening. her hand flew to your wrist, however, her attempts to push you off were in vain.

“shh, it’s okay,” you whispered assuringly, rubbing your palm flat against the fabric of her underwear. her hand fell to her side the moment she began whimpering, and you fought back a laugh. “don’t wanna make big sis mad, do you?”

ningning shook her head. she much more preferred you like this, sweetly singing soft words in her ear, and calling her love. she thought that you were always scary when you

got angry. “good girl,” you praised gently. that alone had ningning melting into your touch, merely a warm, wet puddle at your disposal,

consuming the heat of your fingertips.

touching her, at one point, was something you thought you could only dream of. the part of you that clung to whatever bit of sanity that

dare remained within you tried to convince you that you could overcome your sick, twisted

desires, but it it was vanquished by the other part of you, of more strength and less

rationality.

and today, that other side of you had finally depleted the last of its restraint.

ningning began to grind down against your palm, desperate for the delicious feeling of friction. it wasn’t enough. “more,” she whined, using her hand at this point. “more.”

you cocked your brow. “you want more?”

she nodded her head, needily. she needed more. if there was anything she loved, it was the feeling of relief, which you were providing her with zero cost.

she tucked out her lip again, begging, “please?”

that was all it took for you to grab her by her arm, dragging her upstairs to your bedroom. it was a blessing that your parents weren’t home - it was earlier in the day, and according to them, they wouldn’t be back until later in the night. which meant you had quite a bit of time to mess around with your step-sister.

she squealed when you pushed her onto the mattress, not so gentle. though, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when your eyes wandered to her spread thighs as her skirt rode up. it was as though you had been possessed by a beast-like creature. you skirted behind her and lifted her back to your chest, then your hands fell back between her legs, and you yanked down her underwear.

“anyone ever touch you like this before?” you asked, fingers teasing her slit. she whimpered, greedy. more, yelled the voice at the back of her head.

ningning shook her head.

“fuck,” you said breathily. “are you a virgin?”

this time, ningning nodded, and your desires were only fueled. she was in a position of being so easy to prime - so corruptable.

you sank a pair of your fingers inside her cunt, watching the way her chest fell as she drew in a deepening breath. “i’ll teach you everything, ning,” you whispered, gently pressing your lips to her neck in between your sentences and watching the way her breath seemed to pick up pace. “i’ll take care of you… make you feel good… and this’ll be our little secret, right?”

ningning repeated back, “our little secret?”

“mm-hm,” you responded, curling your head so that you were looking her in her eyes. “you can keep a secret, can’t you?”

ningning’s lips parted ever so slightly, though she didn’t say anything, simply nodding after the passing of a couple of moments.

you broke into a smile. “good girl. have you ever came before?”

again, she shook her head. “i… can’t do it myself,” she whispered, coyly glancing away.

now you had to make her cum. there was no way that you would allow her to walk away from your bedroom before she had came at least once. there was one goal being harbored in your mind, and that was giving her an orgasm so intense that she’d become dependent upon you, because she knew that she’d never be able to do it on her own.

“i’ll help you,” you said, pulling your fingers away. the sullen expression that painted her face in response didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you stifled a laugh, though the grin on your face remained.

you ventured into your closest, returning with a vibrator.

“i’m gonna use this on you, okay, love?”

whatever series of action you took following those words went unbeknownst to ningning. love. whether it was the way you said it or the word itself, there was something that made her brain short circuit.

ningning’s body was on autopilot and she didn’t even realize that she had nodded her head, or gave any semblance of a conscious reaction for that matter. she didn’t even register that she was present until she felt something against her clit, thighs shuddering shut immediately.

you spread her legs back, ordering, “gonna need you to keep those open for me, baby.”

she nodded, whispering, “sorry.”

soon enough, you were submerged beneath the sound of her moans, sweet and high-pitched. that, combined with the compulsive wriggling she couldn’t help but do, were obvious signs that your baby step-sister was the sensitive type. to your lack of surprise.

you found that you enjoyed watching her twist and squirm, whine and whimper. your eyes soaked in every little gulp she made, the rise and fall of her neck, her chest. she was unfolding at your control, a quivering mess right before your very own eyes. her pretty eyes fell closed and she dug her teeth into her plush lower lip, trying to bear the pleasure.

“how does it feel?” you asked, though already aware of the answer, if the reactions her body offered you were any response.

ningning stammered, “it’s so… much.”

“that’s normal,” you sang, unwavering. the more she squirmed the more relentless you were - not that she wanted you to stop.

in no time at all, ningning was at the point of hypersensitivity. from trying to wriggle away, she was bucking her hips into the toy, babbling about how good it felt and begging for you not to stop. like hell you would. watching her was far too entertaining.

“stomach feels… weird,” she whimpered, though not an ounce of pain met the surface. she was all pleasure, more than you were certain she had ever come to know in her life. and with you, there was plenty more where that came from.

“cum, love,” you ordered, bracing yourself for her orgasm. you had your eyes concentrated on every inch of her body, not wanting to miss the sight of her first orgasm for the world - and especially not one at your hands. “do it for me.”

when ningning came, it was unlike any other feeling she had ever experienced before in her life. she felt like she had blacked out, not entirely registering her acts of desperation as she chased the sweetest of release. her toes curled and her body shuddered with orgasm, a loud cry parting her lips as it struck her hard. it felt like she had died and been reborn in the matter of mere seconds.

she fell slack, and you caught her in your arms, dropping the vibrator and enveloping her lips into a desperate kiss. it was messy and impatient, like you had been waiting for this exact moment your whole life. the breathless look on her face when you pulled away was everything to you. she simply looked ethereal, almost as if beauty of this extent was not meant for mere mortals to view. having her in your palms felt like a privilege.

“wanna repay the favor?”

ningning blinked. it wasn’t that she didn’t want to - god knew she dreamed of touching you - but she wasn’t sure what to do.

you grabbed her hand, guiding it down your pants, and throbbed when you felt her delicate fingers against your clothed cunt. “it hurts, ning,” you lied, grinding into her palm. “don’t want me in pain, do you?”

ningning shook her head in denial. of course not. in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to touch you, to taste you for the first time. her imagination had left her with her hands between her own thighs countless times before, but she could never achieve orgasm all on her own. and now that you had given a taste of pleasure, she doubted she would ever be able to let you go.

“do you want me to use it on you?” she asked demurely, referring to the vibrator that had gone long-forgotten.

“you can, baby,” you sighed, moving towards the center of the bed. you began to peel away your clothes, giggling when you felt the weight of her eyes heavy on your skin. “like what you see?”

ningning bobbed her head. when you were naked, she couldn’t prevent herself from gawking, soaking in the beautiful sight of you. to her, it almost seemed like a sin to even behold you. her eyes fell upon every inch of your body, aching for a touch, a taste. she wanted desperately to be in place of the toy she would use on you, and for a long time she had. thoughts of you were what kept her up at night.

she silently begged for you to satisfy her, because there was a spark of knowledge that if she could not do it herself, the only one left to fulfill the role would be you. her intuition gave her every bit of the guidance she needed.

steering her out of her reverie, you urged lightly, “what are you waiting for, silly?”

ningning partially came back to reality, and remembering she had a favor to return, she picked up the vibrator with trembling hands and slowly, yet steadily, brought the toy between your spread thighs. it was physically impossible for her mouth not to fall open the very second she caught sight of you - you glistened, and all because of her. she liked that a little too much.

she tried to mimic your actions, duplicate what you had done to her merely moments ago. somehow, you had her convulsing with an intensity that she had never before felt. it was new, and though strange, she came to enjoy it.

ningning watched very intently how your body responded to the electric toy, your chest already heaving with hollow breaths and your lips parting in light moans. if only she knew how many times you had used this exact toy on yourself, imagining her beneath you and between your thighs, pleasing you with a desperate passion. in the very late hours of the night when your parents were gone, sometimes she could hear the low buzz of your vibrator coming from your room, and would touch herself to the thought of you and your sounds, which was frustrating; she didn’t know how to make herself cum with merely her own fingers. but when you touched her, it was entirely different, otherworldly.

“fuck, ning,” you moaned. “just like that.”

the sound of you praising her had her knees weak, trembling. it was looped inside her head, the sight of you, your voice. everything. strangely enough, she felt as if she could cum from this alone, and you weren’t even touching her.

new things didn’t scare ningning. when she learned she was going to have step-family, she embraced it. when she had to move across town, she embraced it. and she was even more willing to embrace this newfound fashion of life, the pleasure and everything else you made her feel. it wasn’t the first time that she had been attracted to someone, but the intensity was new; the passion was different. you had her breath isolated in her throat and her body elevating into the clouds, with little to no effort at all.

“does it feel okay?” ningning asked, looking at you with her pretty, round eyes.

you bobbed your head and sighed, “feels amazing, you’re doing such a good job.”

she continued using the toy, and you kept on moaning.

you were loving the way this was turning out. after what felt like an eterinity of waiting, what you wanted was finally in your grasp, and not just being dangled in front of your face on a thread. ages of being teased by her - deliberately or not - only being able to dream of what was underneath those pretty clothes she wore. your patience finally paid off, finally rewarded you with your one true desire.

and you just loved the way she was watching you, like you were plucking stars from the sky to put in her hair. she was so attentive, eyeing you with this adoration — this fascination, like she had never seen anything like this before. as far as you were concerned, she probably hadn’t.

“i’m so close, baby,” you told her. it was true; you could feel it, orgasm threatening to consume you. “don’t stop.”

ningning obliged, because there was no way in hell she would stop until you were finished. hell, she was half-tempted to continue even afterwards, loosely recalling that it was a thing. you never seemed to stop at one when you came, anyways, that she knew from the long nights of listening in on you.

and then, your orgasm finally struck you - hard and fast. though you had been here on your own thousand times before, this time felt surreal. everything built up inside you came crashing down and you were crushed. it didn’t help that ningning was right there, eating at your reaction. to her, that alone was greater than any compliment that could escape your lips.

“still hurt?” she would ask, finally pulling the toy away.

you shook your head, smiling - though more to yourself - and said, “nope. i feel better now, thanks to you,” and as if to say thank you, you slipped your hand back between her thighs, watching how she immediately began to writhe.

before she could get another word in, her phone rang, startling you both. her eyes went wide. “it’s mom.”

“answer it,” you urged without a care in the world, still maneuvering your hands between her thighs and your fingers slipping into her cunt.

reluctantly, ningning swallowed, but she took a deep breath and tried to make her voice as stable as possible when she picked up the phone and said, “hello?”

you didn’t pay much attention to the words leaving her mouth, but more so the way that she said them, watching her gulp, bite her lip, and do everything in her power to contain her sounds. needless to say, she was struggling, courtesy of your relentless fingers.

“we’re doing fine. y/n? oh, she’s upstairs in her room. mm-hm. okay bye-bye, tell dad i said hey.”

when she finished speaking, she was the one to end the call, immediately dropping her phone and letting out a moan she had been trying desperately to conceal.

“we could have gotten caught,” she whined, though not holding back anymore.

“that’s the fun part, isn’t it?” you grinned, to earn back only her pouty lips. “i’m just kidding, it’ll be okay,” you crooned, kissing her briefly. “i told you, this’ll be our little secret.”

ningning nodded. our little secret. she was content with that.

as the days passed, you and ningning grew more and more irresistible to one another, drawn to each other’s body’s like a moth to a fly. you took advantage of every moment you had to yourselves, going for hours in each other’s rooms.

and ningning learned your ways very quickly. you recalled one time she begged you, “help me, please? it hurts,” all while pouting, hardly resisting a grin as she pretended to not know any better. it worked like magic on you, and you were dragging her to your bedroom in a matter of seconds.

your baby step-sister was going to be the death of you, but you liked it.

#ningning smut #aespa smut #tw: stepcest #tw: noncon #gxg smut #girl group smut #revehae fics

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prythianpages · 7 months ago

Text

Umbrella | Lucien

summary: You hated rainy days. That is, until, you forgot your umbrella and a handsome stranger became your savior.

word count: 1,660

warnings: none (just rain and fluff)

a/n: did I sing Rihanna's Umbrella a lot while writing this? Absolutely! This is actually a recycled old fanfic of mine since I'm currently in a small writing slump and I thought Lucien fit this best. Hopefully y'all find this a bit cute as I did when first writing it.

You saw the dark clouds ominously forming over Velaris as you got ready for work. Your stubborn mind refused to acknowledge the threat of rain. The past few days had been filled with similar warnings, but the clouds had delivered nothing more than a gloomy sky. Even when you finally stepped out of your apartment and felt light droplets kiss your cheeks, you refused to go back to your place for your umbrella.

It’s not going to rain, it’s not going to rain. You repeated in your head as if the more you said it, the more truth it would hold. Nonetheless, your pace quickens, determined to get to your job as soon as possible. It was only a few blocks away, no more than a fifteen minute walk.

But, as always, fate had other plans.

The smell of impending rain was thick in the air and you cursed your stubbornness for not going back for your umbrella. It was too late now. The light drizzle turned into a downpour, heavy raindrops pelting down with increasing intensity. There was no time to seek cover, you had to press on. It was either the sky’s wrath or your boss’s and your body shudders at the thought of the latter.

I hate the rain, I hate the rain.

"Mother’s tits," you curse under your breath, squinting against the onslaught of rain as you shield your eyes with a hand. To your dismay, a grand carriage and a parade of horses blocks your path, moving leisurely along the street and obstructing your way to the next block.

You didn’t notice the tall shadow looming over you until you felt something change.

Your hand drops to your side as you straighten up. What happened to the rain? As you glance forward, you realize the rain was still there but…

“I thought you needed a savior.”

You jump back, startled by the male who is now standing beside you. The cold rain striking your face snaps you out of your daze yet you feel a rush of warmth as your eyes take in your savior. He possesses an entrancing beauty, so striking that for a moment you wonder if you had been hit by the carriage and were now being guided to the afterlife by this angelic figure.

He extends the umbrella out toward you, offering you solace once more. Despite the relentless downpour, he seems unbothered by the rain, and you can't help but watch as a single droplet traces the jagged scar running down one side of his face. His fiery red hair begins to cling to his forehead. He clears his throat, drawing your gaze back to his.

“Sorry,” you apologize, realizing you had been blatantly staring.

He smiles at you, his eyes alight with a hint of amusement. It’s then you notice the captivating contrast between his eyes: one a gleaming gold, mechanical and the other a warm russet, both piercing through the gloom.

Sheepishly peeling your gaze away from his mesmerizing eyes, you look up at the umbrella. It’s a vibrant red, matching the exact shade of his hair. The color stands out vividly against the gray backdrop of the rainy day like a beacon of warmth and protection.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, gently pushing the umbrella back toward him.

“There’s enough room for both of us,” he insists, his voice smooth and reassuring.

The umbrella was indeed wide enough for two people to fit under. Although you’d still get a bit wet with the rain showing no mercy, it was better than nothing.

“Are you sure?” You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling a mix of nervousness and gratitude. “I don’t want to be a burden, especially not to a complete stranger.”

“Lucien Vanserra. Emissary to the Night Court by day and a secret admirer of Velaris’s stars by night,” he says with a playful grin. “Hmm, what else? My favorite color is yellow. I like to read in my spare time.”

His introduction catches you off guard and you can’t help but smile. “Your turn,” Lucien prompts, his eye twinkling with curiosity.

“Y/N. No cool role in this court, unless you count baking Velaris’s best pastries… but that might change if I don’t make it to the shop within the next five minutes.”

His eyes widen with recognition and delight. “Those pumpkin cream cheese muffins have me in a chokehold. Believe it or not, I was actually headed that way. So now that we’re not complete strangers…allow me?”

Lucien offers you his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, you surprisingly take it, hooking your own arm through his. Butterflies dance in your stomach as he pulls you close to allow the umbrella to cover you both. The traffic that had stalled you earlier is now clear.

Not wasting any more time, the two of you walk together under the safety of his umbrella with hurried footsteps. The rain continues to fall around you and you lean in closer. His warmth seeps into you, offering comfort against the chill of the rain.

“So, you didn’t tell me your favorite color…” Lucien says, just loud enough for you to hear over the rain.

“Red!” You exclaim with a grin.

One of your biggest regrets in life stemmed from that day.

Arriving a few minutes late at the bakery, you faced your boss's ire. There was a big batch of cupcakes, urgently needing to be decorated for a catering event later that evening. She greeted you grumpily, tossing a fresh set of clothes your way from the stash kept for inevitable mishaps.

Yet, her mood shifted entirely upon seeing the male standing beside you.

Needless to say, Lucien saved you in more ways than one that day.

You managed to persuade your boss to let him choose a couple of pastries for free and snuck in an extra pumpkin muffin when she wasn't looking. However, amidst the morning rush of customers, you hadn’t noticed when he slipped away from the bakery.

While you learned more about him during your rushed walk, there was one detail you missed. How to reach out to him. It left you with regret for not inviting him for a coffee (as a gesture of gratitude, of course.)

You sigh as you step out of your apartment. Thankfully, you have the afternoon shift today. It allowed you to sleep in a bit longer, but luck had not spared you from the city's recent capricious weather.

“It was sunny just ten minutes ago!” you huff, glaring up at the sky as if to scold it.

As if in response to your glare, the sky darkens ominously. Before long, rain pours down on you, leaving you stranded without an umbrella. Again. You let out a small groan.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” A familiar voice chimes in.

“By the Cauldron,” you gasp, startled by the presence right beside you. “You really need to stop appearing out of nowhere.”

“Then how else am I supposed to save you?” Lucien teases, moving closer so that his umbrella also shields you from the rain.

You hadn’t found the courage to ask him out that day either, but you had learned that when Lucien wasn't away on emissary business, he lived in the building right next to yours.

As you get ready to close up the bakery, you spare a glance toward the window. A frown settles on your face. It seemed that Velaris was in for even more rain, despite the newspaper claiming otherwise. Fortunately, you had shoved your boring gray umbrella into your bag before work. You were prepared this time because surely with your luck, Lucien wouldn’t be there to save you a third time.

You made sure to pack the leftover pasties into your bag before shutting everything off. As you lock the door, the sky darkens and the faint sound of thunder echoes throughout the city. In the blink of an eye, the rain comes down, pouring quickly and relentlessly. Too quick for you to shift the bags in your arms and reach for your umbrella.

“Forgot yours again?”

“Mother above!”

“Unfortunately, no. Just Lucien.” The red haired male chuckles. His intentions were never to scare you but he found it quite amusing and cute. “I saw the gray clouds and figured you’d need me. Come,” he says, gesturing for you to inch closer to him

“How did you know I was working today?”

“I didn’t.”

A sheepish smile spreads across his features and a faint blush colors his cheek. You swear there’s a subtle glow about him, his fiery red hair and eyes gleaming despite the overcast sky. He’s like a ray of sunshine.

“Well, aren’t you a lucky male?” You tease, feeling a rush of warmth at his presence.

“I’d be luckier if you joined me for a late afternoon coffee.” Now it’s you who is blushing and you’re grateful for the way he turns his head, tilting it slightly to the left. “There’s a place only a block away.”

“Only if you let me pay,” you manage to say and when he opens his mouth to protest, you beat him to it. “As a thank you,” you insist, nudging his shoulder playfully with yours. “For your umbrella services.”

Lucien laughs, his smile widening. He offers you his arm like he has the previous two times. This time, you take it without hesitation, feeling a rush of excitement at the closeness between you. As he guides you both through the rain-soaked streets of Velaris, you lean into him even further. He’s always soothingly warm. He doesn’t seem to mind that you’re closer to him than usual.

As the sky continues to pour down, the umbrella in your bag seems to quietly smile, and you can’t help but develop a newfound fondness for the rain.

It has, after all, brought you closer to Lucien.

For the sake of this fic, reader can't winnow and let's just say Lucien didn't winnow you to your job because he wanted to get to know you more (:

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming

#lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien x y/n #lucien fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x you

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