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myreia · 5 days ago

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Requiem for Us

Rating: Teen Pairings: Wolmeric Characters: Aymeric, Aureia (WoL) Word Count: 3,232 Summary: Sometimes the only choice is to let him go. Prompt: vii. confession | i love you Notes: Set during A Requiem for Heroes in Stormblood 4.5 Read on AO3

As Aureia wakes, there’s a familiar weight on her hand.

At first, it’s all a haze—memories of hidden smiles and idle touches, distant voices and even more distant song, the clean air of mountains and the salt of the sea, all bleeding through the fog of fire and iron and blood. Here, Thancred catches her eye as he sits by the bar in Revenant’s Toll, vanishing with a wink and a smile. There, Alisaie laughs, cheeks flushed with excitement as she raises her rapier in challenge, committed to the duel. Alphinaud, Urianger, Y’shtola—their faces and voices crystalized in time before evaporating into the black, slipping through her fingers like grain of sand.

The battlefield roars, a monster in her mind, a cacophony of engines and machinery, magitek and magic, steel and gunfire and sulfur.

A familiar blade sings in the night, ripe with the gore of felled enemies.

And as the beast of a man wearing the face of her enemy bears down on her, she is falling—falling, falling, falling endlessly into the abyss, with no one to catch her. No one to hear her cries, no one to answer her pleads. There is no one left. After all, when it comes to battles of gods and men, who saves the saviour in their hour of need?

The weight presses against her hand, strong and constant.

She grips it tight and allows it to pull her from the dark.

When her eyelids flutter open, the first thing she sees is the muted sunlight streaming through a wide window, pooling on the stark white bedcovers. Outside, fluffy white snowflakes drift lazily in a blue-grey sky. A familiar shadow looms across the city beyond, its burnished spires glinting atop its grand stone façade, and she knows she is in Ishgard—and whose hand must be holding hers.

She turns her head and the second thing she sees is Aymeric de Borel slumped in a chair beside her.

“Aymeric,” Aureia whispers.

He raises his head, dark hair falling across his forehead in the same way it always does. She used to love to brush it away, fingertips trailing over the planes of his face before leaning in to kiss him…

“Aureia,” he breathes, eyes wide. “You’re…”

Awake.

In the space between breaths, she feels the tug of a thousand things he wishes to say. Relief that she is alive, fear that she will be gone. The illness that has taken the Scions closest to her could strike at any time, finally pulling her under like the others. But there is more behind his pause than fear for something beyond his understanding. There are a hundred mundane ways in which she can leave his life forever, some of which she has already undertaken.

What made them whole broke a long time ago.

“What…” She closes her eyes, ignoring the tightness in her chest. Would that she could pretend it is just one of her injuries, but she knows the truth. This kind of ache—the fluttering panic, the twisting guilt, the nausea that is already twisting deep in her gut—is not of the body, but of the heart. “What… happened?”

“Do you recall the confrontation with Zenos? You were the first to come to the aid of Mistress Lyse and the others on the front line. In the midst of your duel, it is said you faltered, and that the crown prince seized the opportunity to deliver a mortal blow.”

The memory is branded on her mind as surely as Lahabrea’s marks on her back. Zenos, or another monster that looks like him. Her mouth is dry, her tongue heavy and thick, the acrid taste of blood and bile lingering in the back of her throat. Gritting her teeth, she shoves down the restlessness rattling within her as Aymeric continues on.

“Yet before his blade could find its mark, he was distracted by the arrival of a second adversary who bore you away from the battlefield and into the hands of our chirurgeons.” He pauses. “Lest you wonder, he left before you awoke. As is his wont.”

Estinien.

“He was never one for emotional farewells.”

She sucks in a breath. “Thank him for me. Next you see him.”

Aymeric says nothing, but the pain in his silence speaks volumes. Estinien does not stay, just as Aymeric does not go. Yet the mark of his presence weighs heavily on his heart, even as their duties and lives pull them in opposing directions. She may be certain they will see each other again, but he is not. He gave him up a long time ago.

Just as he will have to give her up, too.

“Though Zenos bested all before him, the battle clearly took its toll, for he retreated shortly after your rescue. Seeing this, the remaining imperial forces decided discretion was the better part of valor and pulled back, allowing us to reestablish our position.”

She swallows hard. Why does her mouth taste like ash?

“We have since received word of renewed unrest in the provinces…”

Something deep within her twists. The distance in his voice, the careful selection of words… She pushes the thought down and curls tighter beneath her blankets, her fingers gripping his hand.

“…doubtless inspired by the efforts of the Eorzean Alliance and our Far Eastern allies. Nor does the good news end there. We have also come into possession of intelligence suggesting unrest with the Imperial court. This would certainly explain why both the Emperor and Lord Zenos appear to have abandoned the fight. A long-awaited ray of hope in these dark times—”

Aureia’s eyes snap open. “You don’t have to talk to me like a politician, Aymeric,” she says flatly. “Or did you intend to turn my hospital bed into a briefing room?”

He looks away, a dark look passing over his face. “I did not mean… I thought you would be glad to hear a hopeful message upon waking, especially news of your home country.” The unspoken subject rears its head even as he dances around the subject. They haven’t had time to discuss it personally, none of the Alliance leaders have. How long has it been since they have been in a room alone together? Weeks? Moons? She can’t remember. For all she knows, the last time they talked—truly talked—was the last time they slept together, after she returned in a desperate state from Castrum Fluminis. “Is this not what you wanted? Is this not what you hoped for? If war brings the Eorzean Alliance to Garlemald’s threshold, would you rather your friends and family join us or fall?”

Idealistic fool… “Has Ala Mhigo taught you nothing? Has Doma taught you nothing?”

She catches his eye, a muscle twitching in her jaw. She can’t blame him for accepting one belief over the other—the belief that all the provinces yearn for liberation the way that Ishgard yearned for reform. It makes his role easier, to divide a people into those who stand with you and those who stand against.

The violence is always easier to digest when there is a clear line in the sand between who is good and who is evil.

“Do you know which province I’m from, Aymeric?”

“No. You never thought to grace me with that information.”

“Locus Amoenus. You would know it as Corvos.” She pauses, pressing her tongue against the back of her teeth. Even though it is relieving to be able to finally say it, she has lived so long keeping this knowledge to herself it feels wrong to say it so frankly. “Garlemald has always considered the province their ancestral homeland. Even if you aren’t pureblooded Garlean, its importance sinks into everything. There may be some Corvosi who are eager to push the Garleans out, but those are their friends. Their families. Their loved ones. Some have lived far more than twenty years under Imperial rule, as far as they are concerned they are Garlean through and through. There may be Hyur and Miqo’te and Au Ra there, but you can’t drive a wedge between them and Garlemald based on that alone. When their belief in their nation is that strong, you can’t convince them to switch sides with only a few pretty words. To the people who live there, the Alliance won’t bring liberation. We’ll bring invasion.”

He looks away. Sometimes she wonders how he could forget that reckless pursuit of change for a better future got him stabbed and bleeding out in the street. He believes so whole-heartedly in his ideals, he cannot comprehend a world where others do not share them. It doesn’t matter that his ideals are good and true. Forcing change upon someone who has not been given the chance to accept it only spurs them to violence.

“I do not know what you wish for me to say, Aureia,” Aymeric says quietly after a moment. “Or… what is your preferred term of address now? Kira? Or…?”

Aureia closes her eyes. It seems impossible to hear her birth name on his lips. Foreign. Unnatural. A name he should not be saying, a name he should never have known. “Aureia,” she whispers. Would he ever have fallen in love with her if he had met her as Kira? “Please. Just Aureia.”

“Aureia, then.”

His hand is still in hers. Their fingers twine together, like they did the first time they met—on cold, snowy battlements and beneath a velvet night sky. When he runs his thumb absently across the back of her hand, her heart races and her breath quickens. There’s a chance here, perhaps. An open door. They could start again. They could start new. No pretenses, no lies. No more hurts, no more wounds.

Just two people searching for something together, hand-in-hand.

She lets the thought tumble away, like a leaf on the wind.

Aureia exhales a long breath and opens her eyes, slowing pushing herself up in bed. “How are the others?” she asks. “How is Alisaie?”

“Yet to awake, I’m afraid.” Aymeric pauses, his expression softening. “I know your concern for them, and for Master Waters in particular. I know he is a dear friend of yours. But I implore you, please concentrate on your own recovery for now. You have carried the hopes of some half-dozen nations for a long time, but no one is without their limits. Not even you. Leave this fight to us, my love. You have earned your rest.”

Her body aches, the words pressing down upon her. Somehow the pain of her injuries are negligible compared to this. My love. When did he first start calling her that? When did he stop? When did he start again? Before? After? The years have all blurred into one; looking back, she can’t even find the moment when whatever they are began to break.

“Aymeric…” She wets her lower lip, her stomach twisting into a knot. There is a voice inside her screaming, torn with indecision and fearing either outcome. It’s been screaming for a longer time than she would like to admit. Perhaps it’s finally time to let it go. “I can’t be with you.”

He bows his head and falls quiet for a long time.

In the silence, she wonders whether he expected this. He must have seen it coming. They’ve been falling further and further apart, a relationship once marked by constant companionship now turned into one of brief meetings and curt nods. When was the last time she kissed him? When was the last time he held her? When was the last time they spoke of anything other than Zenos yae Galvus or Garlemald or this godsdamn war?

But it’s not just the war.

She made the first cut. Perhaps it was just that—a cut, to rip herself away from him when she thought he no longer wanted her. When her thirst for vengeance sickened him to the point he walked away, when she was breaking beneath the weight of a secret she could not divulge. When she ended up in the arms of the one who could listen, the one who could understand.

Despite the coarse tongue and never-ending rash of insults, Fordola gave her peace. Peace of mind, peace of soul. They are more alike than either of them would like to admit. She ended things abruptly, as she knew she needed to. It may not have been a relationship, but it was something.

Something important, something she still cannot put into words.

And then there was Sidurgu.

She wonders whether there have been rumours, and if those rumours reached Aymeric. She vanished, after all, disappearing with no warning only to reappear a moon later in Sid and Rielle’s company. To the outside eye, it looks as though she simply took some time to spend among friends, but if one were to look closer, perhaps following their trail from Ishgard to Gyr Abania and back again…

She curses herself for it. Sid told her—bluntly—that he does not care about the circumstances of how they came together. But she does. The guilt creeped in, and it poisoned everything. She cares for him too much to put him through that, to try to build something together—broken as they both are—on a cracked foundation.

So, she chose to walk away, leaving him for good. Perhaps she will always wonder what could have become of them. Perhaps so will he. They will have to live with that.

What does that make her to Aymeric, then? She has hurt him more than he knows, more than maybe he is even willing to admit. Ishgardian society has perhaps primed him for such things, given that infidelity is as common among the highborn as weeds in a garden. One could almost call it a custom—for the noblemen only, of course.

Tears pang in the corners of her eyes. She blinks them away and raises her head, turning her face to the sun and falling snow. It is a cold day in Ishgard, but every day is cold in the Holy See. They must all learn to persevere anyway.

“Are you certain of that?” Aymeric says at last.

She glances back at him. “I… I don’t know—”

“Because I am not.”

Her hand tightens around his.

“I love you,” he says.

“Don’t—”

“I love you.”

She blinks again and this time the tears fall. “Please. Don’t.”

“I love you. We may never have been married, Aureia, but I did make a vow to you once. To cherish you always, regardless of the challenges we may face or the difficulties we must overcome. You are the most important person in my life, and I am not ready to bow down so easily. Not yet.” He leans in close, pressing a hand to her cheek, his eyes locked on hers. His thumb brushes her tears away. “So, now it is my turn to say please. Please, do not do this. I loved you once, and I love you still.”

Her lower lip trembles and she bites back a sob, her heart thundering in her chest. “Why?”

“Must there be a reason?”

“Yes.” She sniffs, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. “Gods, please. If there isn’t one, then make one up for my sake.”

“I…” He pauses and looks away, chuckling quietly at his own error. He doesn’t have the words. He is reaching for them, but he doesn’t have the words. “I do not know. Must there be easy definitions for something to be true? Or is it enough to know in your heart that it is good and true?”

She leans back, thumping against the headboard. “I’ve been with others since you, Aymeric,” she whispers. Despite the twisting guilt in her stomach, it feels good to confess. One last secret to release. If he’s so certain he wants to be with her, let him know all of her. “I haven’t been�� faithful.”

He turns his head, meeting her eyes. His hand still rests against her cheek. “And I haven’t been clear,” he replies. “I have given much thought to that night in the menagerie. I gave you an ultimatum. You made a choice. It would make me a fool not to respect it.”

“But—”

“Some may consider otherwise, but have we truly been together since that night, Aureia?”

She blinks. “You… you mean to say…”

“I do not care what you have done. I do not care with whom you have been. What I care for—”

She closes her eyes, the tears falling fast and free.

“—is you. I am willing to begin again. I wish to begin again. If you must ask me for forgiveness, then there—you have it. Whatever you believe your sins are, I forgive you—”

Why must he speak so damn earnestly?

“I forgive you. Aureia, I am asking you—with all of my heart, with everything I have—please. Let us begin again. I cannot bear to see you walk away.”

Her heart relinquishes, her breath slows. Hearing him say it like this has given her the clarity she needed. They have been through so much, and they will go through more before this war is done. But they are not who they were four years ago, and they cannot turn back the clock. She cannot be what he wants, just as he cannot be what she needs. He may not be able to bear to see her walk away, but she cannot bear to remain at his side.

It has to end.

Slowly, Aureia opens her eyes and takes him in one last time—the hair she has run her fingers through, the lips she has kissed, the face she has fallen for again and again. He returns her gaze, his hand still clutching hers, holding onto her with such force it’s as if he is pulling her back from a cliff’s edge.

But she is determined to fall into the unknown.

Wiping her tears away, she pulls him close and kisses him one last time. He cradles her, holding her close as he has a thousand times before, tears now welling in his eyes. She lingers in the kiss, desperately clinging to this precious thing that is killing her to give up. Perhaps there is another way. Perhaps if they had more time. Perhaps if they…

It’s over too soon. She presses a hand to his chest, her palm over his heart, feeling the steady beat. Then, at last, she draws away and lets go, her hand finally falling free from his.

“I can’t,” Aureia says. “This is goodbye.”

Aymeric closes his eyes, passing a hand over his face. “Of course,” he replies softly. “Of course… Then it is as you say.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Exhaling a shaky breath, he pushes back his chair and rises to his feet. “Then I will say adieu, Mistress Malathar. I must return to the front. May we meet again under happier circumstances.” He turns, taking a step towards the door, his footsteps echoing across the flagstones. “You are not as alone as you believe you are,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder. “Remember that.”

The door closes behind him with a hollow boom.

Only then does Aureia curl inward, pulling her knees into her chest, and weeps.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #ffxiv fanfic #wolmeric #aymeric x wol #aymeric de borel #wolmeric week #wolmericweek2025 #aureia malathar #oc tag #writing tag #stormblood #stormblood spoilers

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stromuprisahat · 1 year ago

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Regarding Nikolai. it’s insane how the author and the fandom close their eyes and baby him. When he SA Alina, pushed her in a carriage so she could react, and then immediately gaslit her to think out was okay. He’s the one who actually used her and manipulated her to and succeed in getting the Ravkan crown. but the worst crime he has is the one where right after Genya tells him his father* and king is a rapist…..Nikolai rewarded the king. Nikolai covered up the king’s crime, made sure he received no trial at all, that no girls received justice, and to rub salt in the wound he gave the King a full expense paid retirement vacation with a “life full of luxury….safety” and even let the king choose where he would retire..oh sorry…LB calls it “exile.” So the King who never wanted to rule the nation, only wanted a life of luxury and attacking girls…gets a life of luxury far far away where he has no care or worry and he is free to attack any and all servants I’ve had in his luxury retirement. Leigh Bardugo should have re-read chapter 11 of ruin and rising. Rich white savior born with a silver spoon that manipulates, SA, and uses Alina go get in power let’s his father figure who literally SA’d genya and other girls go free and rewarded.

*father figure - publicly his father privately not really the bio dad And I call BS on the R&R proclamation that Nikolai didn’t know the king was a rapist. Nikolai was raised in the same halls, if the king’s reputation was so well known like LB keeps claiming it was in RoW then Nikolai would 100% know about it before he left for the military.

I have a problem with understanding Nikolai's actions.

It's caused by his moral alignment.

I simply cannot grasp how can someone put rules, established by other humans- therefore possibly faulty-, above preventing possible injustice. (Yes, I'm true neutral.) How can "a good" person be stopped by immaterial concept? If he believed there's some higher power, eventually judging all human actions, but he's an atheist!

What makes it more complicated, is his seeming moral flexibility. I'm not even halfway through Siege and Storm, and he doesn't seem bothered by lying, stealing, manipulation... is a piece of paper truly such a difference? Nobody wrote down rules about particular situations, so he can do whatever he pleases?

A bit of a hypocrite, isn't he?

... As he was helping me back into the coach, he slipped his arm around my waist. “Please don’t punch me,” he whispered. Then he yanked me hard against his chest and pressed his lips to mine. The crowd exploded into wild cheers, their voices crashing over us in an exultant roar. Before I could even react, Nikolai shoved me into the shadowy interior of the coach and slipped in after. He slammed the door behind him ... I turned on Nikolai and kicked him hard in the shin. He yelped, but that wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. I kicked him again. “Feel better?” he asked. “Next time you try something like that, I won’t kick you,” I said angrily. “I’ll cut you in half.” He brushed a speck of lint from his trousers. “Not sure that would be wise. I’m afraid the people rather frown on regicide.” “You’re not king yet, Sobachka,” I said sharply. “So don’t tempt me.” “I don’t see why you’re upset. The crowd loved it.” “I didn’t love it.” He raised a brow. “You didn’t hate it.” I kicked him again. This time his hand snaked out like a flash and captured my ankle. If it had been winter, I would have been wearing boots, but I was in summer slippers and his fingers closed over my bare leg. My cheeks blazed red. “Promise not to kick me again, and I’ll promise not to kiss you again,” he said. “I only kicked you because you kissed me!” I tried to pull my leg back, but he kept a hard grip. “Promise,” he said. “All right,” I bit out. “I promise.” “Then we have a deal.”

Siege and Storm- Chapter 11

This isn't gaslighting. It's another kind of manipulation, if anything. He's playing it down, but in his case I'd say it isn't caused by some malevolent intentions, but different view on the matter. He's playing a part. While he isn't repulsed by the idea of kissing Alina, he didn't do it for his personal enjoyment, but to cement their union in eyes of the people.

Alina, on the other hand, doesn't intend to become anything more than her own private person. She views the kiss only as a transgression against her.

Nikolai is a people-pleaser, who obviously displeased Alina. While he might be manipulating Alina so he doesn't have to deal with her anger, it might also be an attempt to make it better. Children often do this. I did a bad thing, but if we both agree it wasn't SO bad, it will get better.

His swift reaction outside the carriage was about preventing Alina to ruin the image he just painted. It's not hard to figure out she's quick to anger and much slower to think. He already tried to introduce her to the concept of being a public person. When pure theory fails, apply more practical approach?

This is another example of Nikolai "The Diet Darkling" Lantsov in action. Collar Alina to take over her world-changing abilities to end wars is absolutely despicable, while mere kiss to use her status of Living Saint for run on position of power's possible to overlook, because Nikolai's motivations are noble. I guess that's the difference between Royalty reaching for the Crown and serf reaching for the chance to live.

The rape confrontation feels weak and unsatisfying, thanks to NIkolai's lack of spine, or fixation on Ravkan law, depending on your POV. Apparently he acted according to their legal system. I have a half-written post on this, but since we're on the topic, I agree it's one on those examples, when law guarantees neither justice, nor prevention of future crimes, so instead of cheering for Nikolai's fairness, we're left upset with his decision.

“You will write the letter, and tomorrow you will leave on the Kingfisher. It will take you to Os Kervo, where you’ll be seen safely aboard the Volkvolny and across the True Sea. You can go someplace warm, maybe the Southern Colonies.” “The Colonies?” the Queen gasped. “You will have every luxury. You will be far from the fighting and the reach of the Darkling. You will be safe.”

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 7

Sure, it's exile, loss of power and prestige... but how is luxury a punishment? How is relocation to a peaceful place instead of constantly warring Ravka a punishment? And most importantly- how does it prevent the rapist from raping more servants? Or other helpless, young destitutes?

It's like sending a serial killer on a paid vacation, weapons of choice included.

#reply #Grishaverse #grishanalyticritical #Nikolai Lantsov #Alina Starkov #King Alexander III Lantsov #Genya Safin #S&S Chapter 11 #R&R Chapter 7 #Siege and Storm #Ruin and Rising #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

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moonrisecoeur · 1 year ago

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cw: knives 🔪

she/her pronouns used, no parts mentioned, degradation

leon knows you’re not going to hurt him.

he objectively knows that you won’t. he knows you love and care for him, you would be upset with yourself if you even gave him a papercut, much less a gash wound on his chest with the knife you’re gripping or even worse.

but he’s still afraid.

your knife presses to his neck as you stand behind him, holding it firmly but adjusting your grip every now and then, enjoying the way it drags against his skin. you’re taunting him.

he’s still afraid of you. of what you could do. he knows you wouldn’t hurt him, and yet he’s afraid you might. he feels the pit in his stomach grow as your free hand touches his cock over his clothes, and he’s painfully hard under the tight fabric, more so than he’d like to admit. of course it’s from the knife you’re holding. he didn’t think he’d like this as much as he does. but god the way you’re holding it against his neck, in a wholly threatening manner has him dizzy.

“please,” he whimpers, “don’t hurt me.”

you know it’s an act, to some degree. his fear. you know he knows that you’re not actually going to hurt him. he’s doing it for you, acting more afraid than he actually is because you like it, like watching him tremble and stutter, “such a pretty little thing when you beg…” you mumble, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck from behind.

“you don’t… you don’t have to hurt me… i’ll do whatever you say,” he says. he’s kind of playing it up, again, because you like it, but he’s afraid. he can’t help it. one wrong move and he’s dead.

god his fear and terror is so palpable you could consume it whole.

“i won’t hurt you if you’re good,” you say, and his breathing becomes shorter and faster, not trusting himself to take deep breathes, “will you be good?”

“p-please! i… please, i’m- i’m yours, i’m yours only, okay? is that what you want to hear? just… get that thing away from my—”

you do the opposite, pushing the knife even closer to him, the metal of it touches his neck, lightly grazing his skin. it’s not enough to cut him but still, he stops breathing all together.

“fuck, i-i’m sorry, ple-ease….” he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut, begging the universe for the chance to live.

maybe it’s because he trusts you that he lets himself be afraid. he thinks if you didn’t talk about this beforehand, got his expressed consent, and just pulled a knife on him, and he really thought you were trying to kill him, he’d let you. he knows he could probably beat you in a fight, he’s stronger than you are, he knows he is.

something in him would say she wants this, she wants to kill you, and you always give her what she wants, don’t you?

but because he knows that glint of danger in your eyes isn’t real, that you don’t really want to slit his throat, that the cold metal against his hot neck is not going to dig into him with ease, that his body feels safe to let go, to feel that fear.

he knows you’re delighting in his fear. he’s seen what you’re into, you’ve talked about it. he knows you like feeling like a hunter, like a predator. he just didn’t think it was this intense to be the prey.

his legs give out on him, and he falls to his knees, still facing away from you. your knife moves with him, staying steady against his neck. god, you’re good.

he looks up at you, and you when stop touching his cock over his jeans because it’s now out of reach, you wrap your hand around his jaw from behind, your knife still held to his neck just below.

he can feel the excitement radiating off of you, the utter euphoria of bringing a man like him to his knees. he’s never seen such darkness grace your features before.

you look good when you’re evil.

“who do you belong to, baby?” you murmur, leaning into him, cheek pressed to the crown of his head, your free hand moving from groping his aching cock to resting on his shoulder for stability.

this was easy. you made it easy for him because he clearly can’t think too hard right now, “you.” it’s simple. easy.

“i should carve my initials into you, shouldn’t i? just gotta decide where…” you say, and he gasps, clearly overwhelmed by the idea. you’re… you’re not going to do that right now, are you?

“maybe your collarbone? so everyone can see when you wear those slutty fucking dress shirts like the whore you are?”

god… you’ll kill him someday. he’s sure of it.

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vizishereig · 8 months ago

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9 for the autumn prompts made me think of hide and seek with Ethan and rose so could you to that? 🥺

helloooo! :D it's kind of short, but I don't think I needed to be long? I could've made this angsty, oh, I got so close to making it angsty.

9. Hiding in the closet from this prompt list

She’s in the closet, curled into a little ball, trying to make herself as quiet as possible.

He’s looking for her.

She can see through a crack in the closet, watching him search the room. He messes with the covers, checks under the bed. He turns to look at the closet.

She curls up a bit more, hoping the clothes will give her some sort of cover.

The closet door opens. She holds her breath, as if that will help.

“Got you!” he says, and she bursts into a fit of giggles as her dad grabs her, squirming in his grip. Ethan drops her on the bed, and she’s still laughing, too happy to pout at her loss.

Ethan waits for her to calm down a bit before gathering her in his arms, kissing the crown of her head. It prompts another fit of giggles, small hands bunching into his shirt.

“Did I do good, Dada?” she asks as she looks up, blue eyes sparkling. He makes a small sound, pressing a kiss to her forehead this time.

“Yeah, of course, baby. You always do,” he says, holding her so, so carefully. Aware of the gift that is in his arms.

She makes a happy sound, wriggling again, trying to escape his grasp. He lets her go, following her as she leaves the room, turning to look at him with a smile.

“You’re turn, Papa!” she giggles, moving to cover her eyes.

He can’t help the small laugh as he moves to find a semi-okay hiding spot, knowing his little girl is too smart for his own good.

His turn indeed.

#prompt fill #ethan winters #rosemary winters #rose winters #babies :DDD

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lumaconstante · 4 months ago

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Revelations by the Firelight: Part Two [OMINIS GAUNT X MUGGLE!OC]

Marie watched the glow from the fireplace dance across Ominis’s delicate features. His confession was a whirlwind, but also a relief. Knowing that he had trusted her with something so profound warmed her heart. But there was something she needed to say, something she had been holding back for a long time.

“Ominis…” she began, her voice soft but hesitant.

He tilted his head toward her, as if he were taking in more than just her words, but the weight behind them.

“Yes?”

Marie took a deep breath, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of her sweater.

“I have something to reveal about myself, too. Something you need to know.”

Ominis frowned, intrigued. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers still gripping his wand carefully.

“You’re starting to scare me. What could be more extraordinary than what I just told you?”

She laughed softly, but there was a hint of nervousness.

“Well… you just confessed that you’re a wizard. So I think it’s only fair that I confess that… I’m a princess. Literally. My uncle is the king of the United Kingdom. And since he has no legitimate children, there’s a chance that one day I’ll be queen.”

Ominis froze. For a moment, he seemed to be trying to process the words, as if they were in a completely new language. He blinked a few times before stammering,

“Excuse me… did you say… princess?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, biting her lip, waiting for his reaction.

There was a heavy silence before Ominis tilted her head back and let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, it’s brilliant.”

“It’s not a joke, Ominis,” she replied, crossing her arms, her expression turning slightly offended. “I’m a real princess.” With royal lineage, crowns, obligations, all the baggage.

His expression changed, going from disbelief to complete surprise. He rubbed the back of his neck, an uncertain smile playing on his lips.

“So… you’re telling me that I, a Gaunt, am… courting a Muggle princess?”

Marie raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a mischievous smile.

“So we’re getting each other’s blood dirty?”

The sentence made Ominis’ eyes widen for a moment before he let out a genuine laugh, muffled by shock.

“My Merlin… my family would have a collective meltdown. They already think I’m a disgrace, but this? This would be the height of it.”

Marie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. She stood up and sat next to him on the couch, taking his hand.

“And what would Salazar Slytherin say?” He’s probably turning in his grave knowing that one of his descendants is not only in love with a Muggle, but one who might end up ruling the United Kingdom.

Ominis shook his head, a mixture of amusement and amazement.

“It’s absolutely ironic. In fairy tales, the princess is always cursed by the wizard. And here I am, the wizard, completely in love with her.”

Marie leaned closer, her fingers trailing softly along his jawline.

“Well, maybe this is our fairy tale. And in this case, the princess chooses the wizard.”

Ominis’s pale eyes softened, and he lifted his hand to caress her face.

“You have no idea how much I love you, Marie. None of that matters—royalty, blood, magic. All that matters is you.”

She smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was a kiss full of promise, of unconditional love, of a future that defied all odds.

As they pulled away, Ominis chuckled softly, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I wonder what that future would be like. A wizard and a princess ruling together. I bet it would cause pandemonium in both worlds.”

“Then let it happen,” she said determinedly, cupping his face in her hands. “Because I don’t want to live that fairy tale with anyone else but you.”

He smiled, his fingers lacing hers.

“I’m glad that in my fairy tale, the wizard wins the princess’s heart.”

Marie smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder as she watched the fire.

“And they live happily ever after.”

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mrsreginagold · 5 months ago

Text

Fic: Loving You Is A Gift Tonight

Fandom: Nikita

Pairing: Ari Tasarov x Nikita Mears (Nikari)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Takes place in a canon-divergent AU where Ari and Nikita have been together for two years, so time-line wise this would be during season three.

Summary: A snowball fight, a proposal, and two lovers being together during the holiday season.

Author's Note: Merry Christmas to my readers! In spite of how busy I've been this month, I found time to compose a winter/holiday-themed fic for my precious babies. It's full of fluff and cute moments, but as per usual for Nikari -- there are some sensual parts as well 😘. (It simply cannot be helped by this point). I can't believe that I've been writing this ship for nearly two years!! I began shortly into my initial watch of Nikita back in 2023. It's not exaggeration that they've helped me regain my stride after a significant break from fanfiction work, and I'm so incredibly grateful to those who read my romantic forays. I cannot begin to explain how much this ship means to me at this point, and expect more work from me in the upcoming year. I have no plans to stop anytime soon 💙🖤

On AO3

Loving You Is A Gift Tonight

“Ari Tasarov…”Nikita Mears’ tone was sharp with warning. “Don’t you dare throw that at me.”

Her boyfriend’s bright, clear blue gaze sparkled with devious intent, snow crunching between his gloved palms as he formed a perfect sphere. “You mean this entirely harmless little snowball? Now, why would I do something like that?”

Before she could respond, he lobbed the object in her direction, forcing her to dodge to the side a hairsbreadth of a second too late.

It hit her squarely on the shoulder, bursting into a shower of ice crystals that lingered on the thick fabric of her winter coat.

The Division operative narrowed her eyes. “Ari…”

He was already scooping up more snow, grinning widely in a manner that made him seem outright boyish – a vast difference from the refined gentleman she had fallen madly in love with in the first place.

Sighing in defeat, she knelt down and began forming her own arsenal. “We were supposed to be making a snow man…or a snow bear. Hey, why can’t we make a snow bear instead –

He moved past her and pressed another snowball to the crown of her head, laughing richly when she shrieked in astonishment. “We have plenty of time to make all kinds of snow creatures, but right now: it’s two to zero.”

“Of all the things he could get competitive about,” she grumbled, shaking bits of white free from her hair.

The challenge, it turned out, was being able to catch him. As he hailed from an area known for more frigid temperatures, Ari was clearly in his element while Nikita was at a disadvantage.

He moved swiftly, utilizing the natural cover of the forest to shield him from her attacks, and every time that she thought she could attempt to even the score, it resulted in failure.

“Why’d I agree to travelling out to the cabin anyway?” she griped, peering around a frost-laden tree trunk in hopes of catching a glimpse of her adversary.

“You were the one who suggested we spend the season here instead of in the city, my love,” his voice – already a low, resonant timbre – purred in her ear, startling her enough to back up against his taller, solid frame.

Elegant fingers curled around her arm to keep her balance from faltering too much, while his other hand gripped at her waist to draw her snugly to him.

“I said that when we were in bed,” she mumbled, tipping her head back and basking in the heat emanating off his body. “You should never take what I say there that seriously.”

“I’ll have you know that I take all our pillow talk very seriously,” he spun her around, that stunning gaze of his glimmering playfully, right before bridging the tiny space left between them to claim her mouth in a slow, ardent kiss.

Like clockwork, the magnetic hold Ari had over her heart prompted Nikita to relax in his embrace.

She wound her arms around his neck, drawing him closer as he subtly shifted his angle and deepened the kiss.

Her gloved fingers laced into the soft, dark strands of his hair, which was much longer due to their time on the run allowing her lover the chance to grow it out. She preferred it to the simple, shorter style he had worn previously, although admittedly the professional look paired with intricately tailored suits had its own appeal.

Deliberately, she carded her hands through the swept back locks, tousling them before scraping her nails against the base of his nape.

The desired effect was achieved: a deep, undeniably sensual growl emerging from her partner when he nibbled tantalizingly over her lower lip, his tongue memorizing the shape of her mouth before meeting hers.

She dragged him forward, moaning quietly and responding eagerly to his fervent attentions. The cooler temperature no longer mattered because she felt so safe and wanted in his arms, her hands moving to rest over his heart as they reluctantly parted for air.

She peered up at him, her pulse racing when she noticed the tell-tale flicker of desire within the brilliant cobalt depths she adored. “Perhaps we should head inside and cuddle under the covers, since you’re so fond of our conversations there.”

He chuckled. “Later, I promise. There’s something more important that we need to accomplish first.”

“What’s that?”

He swept one hand out in a wide gesture. “Choosing a tree, of course.”

The suggestion made her raise a skeptical brow. “We don’t have an axe.”

“It’s in the truck,” he twined their fingers together and led her deeper into the woods. “And before you start with the endless questions that I know are already whirling around: I made sure to measure the space we have in the cabin. I also brought up ornaments and lights to decorate with.”

“You really do think of everything,” she curled into his side as they wandered.

“I try,” he ducked a quick kiss to her brow before they managed to focus on their task.

Nikita made a mental note to thank Owen Elliot for letting them borrow his four-wheeler in order to drive up to the mountains. Not only had it proven handy for travel, but it had enough space to haul a large pine back to the cabin.

She could easily detect Ari��s enthusiasm over such a simple, if traditional element of the season. After all – it was their first to be properly shared together now that they were in a more stable point in their lives. Previous Christmases had still been lovely, but very brief by comparison.

The most difficult part was getting the tree to fit in the metal stand, but after some work, it was placed securely so that it took up a designated corner in their living room.

Understandably exhausted and very disheveled now that his clothes were covered in debris, Ari flopped onto the couch with a grimace. “I think I understand why so many people go with artificial.”

Chuckling, Nikita slid in next to him and rested her head against his shoulder. “You’re a mess.”

“Correction. I’m your mess, and we still have to decorate this thing,” he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“We could always save that for tomorrow,” she nuzzled at his throat.

He groaned and tilted his head back before shaking it. “We’ve made it this far, so we might as well try to finish. That being said: I think hot showers and some food is long overdue. Why don’t you go first while I prepare a quick meal?”

“Or you could join me.”

“Tempting, but then we’d never get anything else done,” he embraced her sweetly before rising. “How does lasagna sound?”

“Like perfection. Not that I’d expect anything less with your cooking,” her eyes lit up at the prospect of enjoying the home-made dish, which meant it would be equal parts delicious and comforting.

With a plan in motion, she headed towards the bath while he went to the kitchen.

Refreshed and starting to feel quite hungry, Nikita emerged from the master bathroom while running a towel through her damp locks, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a soft tee shirt. She grabbed one of Ari’s cardigan sweaters – a staple for whenever he was relaxing at home rather than at the office – and threw it over her outfit for warmth.

After pulling on a pair of slippers, she moved up through the hallway, dropping the wet towel in the hamper located in the laundry room, and then took a shortcut into the kitchen.

She was about to announce her presence to Ari when the mere sight of him made her stop in her tracks.

The love of her life was busy working on their dinner. He also happened to be shirtless. Her gaze tracked slowly over the tone of his biceps as he layered ingredients into a pan, her heart rate jumping when he moved a specific way, and she caught the subtle flex of muscle across his shoulders.

This was already ridiculously unfair, but then he started to hum a lyrical melody, and she was struck with unfathomable longing.

Transfixed, she crept forward until she was right behind him and then reached out and slid her hands over the expanse of his back. She stood on tip toe to duck a kiss to the tiny scar on the base on his neck, a souvenir from having a tracing chip removed, which always proved a more sensitive spot. “My love, you appear to have forgotten something.”

“I measured everything out perfectly,” she felt the hitch in his breath at the contact, but he didn’t hesitate to lean back when her arms circled his midsection.

“I meant your shirt.”

He chuckled yet continued in his task. “I just hope that you left some hot water.”

“I needed to pamper myself after your attacks in the snow earlier,” she darted more kisses along his shoulder blades. “But it should reheat in a few minutes.”

He twisted around abruptly, startling a gasp out of her that was cut off by a sound embrace, lifting her effortlessly so he could set her on the marble counter.

It was so easy to become lost in him, her legs locking around his waist to anchor them together while they indulged themselves.

“Didn’t you tell me…” she bit teasingly at his lip and took a gulp of air before diving back in. “That is was dangerous to cook while so exposed?” Deliberately, she skimmed her nails through the soft hair that dusted his chest.

“I see you were actually listening for once,” amused, he tugged away. “Dearest: I am a professional. Besides, I was referring to being completely nude, not partially.”

“We could fix that,” she toyed with his belt.

He smirked but gently pushed her fingers to the side. “Fun as that could be, I need to set the timer.” He wandered off to do so and then carefully carried the lasagna over to the oven. Once it was placed inside, he closed the door. “Now, if you’ll keep an eye on this while I get cleaned up,” he made his way back over to where she was sitting. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

She nodded before stealing one more kiss, and then he left her to her own devices for a while.

The former assassin took advantage of having to wait for both the meal to be ready and her love to return by setting the table. As it was just the two of them, there was no need for fancy plates or cutlery, but she also couldn’t resist lighting a single candle to add some romantic atmosphere.

She poured them both glasses of white wine and then went back into the kitchen to see how the lasagna was faring.

A quick check confirmed that the cheese was starting to bubble, so she busied herself with a crossword puzzle as the dish finished baking.

Ari finally returned, his still damp hair falling rakishly across his forehead as he walked over to stand beside her. He was fully dressed again in a dark green, button-down shirt that was left open at the collar, paired with black pants.

Nikita looked up, her heartrate thrumming happily upon seeing the content look on his handsome face. “Feel better?”

“Much.” He stretched, the edge of his untucked top lifting enough to reveal a hint of his abdomen before he draped an arm around her, glancing down at the puzzle she was attempting to complete. “Hmm. Six across. Ravenous.”

She blinked, stunned at how quickly he had solved it. “Wait, really?”

He just smiled, warm and open, and nudged at her side. “Trust me.”

“Always,” her features softened, and she gave him a brief kiss in thanks before penciling in the term.

The game was completed swiftly thanks to how easily he figured out the remaining clues, and then the buzzer to the oven went off, signaling that the food was ready.

They took their time savoring the lasagna and each other’s company, and once they both had their fill, Ari volunteered to wash the dishes while Nikita got started on decorating the tree.

“I definitely can see why people go for the fake, pre-lit ones,” she grimaced, finally managing to wrap multiple strings of lights around the branches.

Her boyfriend joined her shortly after, while she was carefully hanging colorful ornaments. “Ah, it’s beautiful so far.”

“I’m just trying to make sure not to accidentally break any of these,” she confessed, locking eyes with him. “I actually haven’t done this kind of thing in a long, long time.”

“Really?” he grabbed a hook and picked an ornament out to place before moving around to a different side of the tree. “It’s always been a huge event for my family, even in recent years.”

“Well, you grew up with brothers and sisters, so I’m sure there was a ton of activity. When you’re in the foster system, without the stability of a permanent family…” she sighed, melancholy surfacing in spite of the festive atmosphere. “It’s very different.”

Immediately, he was at her side and wrapping his arms around her in a hug as his lips brushed along her forehead tenderly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful.”

“Don’t be. We’re making new memories now. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my family, Ari. Along with the rest of our friends,” she twisted to face the tree again, curling one hand around his bicep and squeezing gently. “What matters the most going forward is our future, don’t you think?”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, kissing the top of her head briefly before extricating himself in order to rummage around in one of the boxes by their feet. “And that reminds me, I have something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“Oh?” she tilted her neck, curious.

“Go rest for a minute,” he continued to search, muttering quietly to himself until he finally discovered the item.

There was a decided shift in his demeanor; a softness emerging on his striking, noble features, which meant that whatever it was that he’d been looking for: it had a personal significance.

He sat down next to her, balancing the object on his palm in order to present it to her.

Carefully, Nikita plucked the small, intricately carved, wooden ornament from Ari’s hand, turning it over in her own while scanning it over. “It’s beautiful. Hand-made?”

“I made it, in fact, back when I was still in college. It was a gift for my mother. After she passed away, my sister made sure to get it back to me.”

“I can tell it means a lot,” she cuddled into his side. “Is there anything you’re bad at, by the way? Because so far we have cooking, dancing, and wood carving, not to mention the fact that you’re musical.”

Her companion laughed richly. “Sport, actually. I was always picked last for every team back in grade school.”

“You keep up with me fine when we run or spar.”

“Those are individual athletic pursuits, my love,” he reclined a bit into the cushions, pulling her with him as they snuggled together. “Not that it matters in the long run. I doubt I’ll ever need to save the world by playing a basketball game.”

“Nah, if that were the case we’d send in Michael and Owen.”

He laughed again, stroking his fingers through her hair. “Good.”

She continued to turn the ornament over in her hands absentmindedly while she reveled in the quiet intimacy between them. She cherished these specific kind of moments: where their roles in the new version of Division faded into the background and they could just exist with each other.

Nikita wasn’t expecting it when she pressed down on a section of carving and heard a clack. “Um. I didn’t break it, right?”

Ari shook his head and took back the box. “It’s meant to be a puzzle, see?” his fingers danced out a pattern and there were several more clicks before it opened.

Together, they looked inside, her eyes widening significantly when a sparkling, antique sapphire and diamond ring was revealed.

For his part, he looked as stunned as she did. “Wait, this has been in here all this time?” Gingerly, he pulled the jewelry out.

“You didn’t know?”

“No, my sister never said anything, and I haven’t played around with it at all. Hold on, there’s a note underneath.” He reached back in to grab the paper.

She only had a basic grasp of deciphering Russian when it was written down, but the impact was unmistakable when tears sprung to her lover’s eyes.

“Ari…”

“I thought I recognized it,” he chuckled wryly before turning to show her the ring properly. “It was my mother’s engagement ring. Apparently, she wanted me to have it.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she admitted.

“She hoped that one day: I would find the right person to give it to…which is why Andrea hid it inside.”

“She’s the one I met briefly, right?”

“Yes. Darling…” the tone of his voice altered, prompting her to look into his eyes and notice the passion suddenly directed her way. “Stumbling across this ring might have been a coincidence, but the truth is that I’ve been thinking very seriously about our future together. Earlier: you said that I’m your family, and you’ve been mine for the past two years. This isn’t how I expected to do this, however, if I could have your attention for a moment…”

Without warning, he gallantly sank down on one knee in front of her.

She sat, frozen in disbelief and awe over what was transpiring. “Ari Tasarov, are you serious right now?”

He took her left hand within his, his gaze piercing into hers and informing her that he meant everything he was about to say. “Very much. Nikita, you’ve had my heart from the instant we met. Our life together has never been simple, or easy, but I wouldn’t trade a single second, and I want to share in every one hereafter. Will you make me the happiest man in existence and become my wife?”

She inhaled shakily, unexpected butterflies swirling in her stomach. She wanted to respond with as much ardor as he had proposed with but could only find enough coherence to whisper a single word. “Yes.”

Evidently it was the right thing to say, because his handsome face immediately lit up in delight.

The next few seconds seemed to blur by as the ring was secured on her finger, and then they were embracing fervently and toppling onto the floor.

Her hands fisted into the fabric of his top, their limbs entangling naturally as he adjusted the angle of the kiss, deepening it further.

With a deft movement, he pinned her between his lean frame and the plush rug that decorated the area in front of the cabin’s fireplace. Logs were already crackling within the hearth, and between the warmth that was emanating and the natural heat building between the pair, it wasn’t long before fingers set to task.

“You realize that, while I’m counting this as an early gift, there are still presents to be given, right?” Nikita grinned, tugging away to focus on unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, I think I have exactly what I want right here but trust me: there are plenty of surprises on the way.” Ari’s smile was infectious as the garment fell open over his chest, revealing the sculpted planes of his torso.

With a smirk, she shoved it insistently down his shoulders, and he tugged his arms free before yanking her back into another kiss.

Layer by layer of clothing was cast aside until it was skin against skin and then hands well-versed in one another started to explore.

She welcomed his body with hers, sliding one leg up against his own and then hitching it over his waist to link them together, tilting her head back in order to grant him better access to the slim column of her throat when his mouth eventually strayed.

A low moan escaped while he darted firefly kisses across her clavicle, traveling right to bestow attention to her shoulder, then venturing lower.

Her breath caught as he worshipped every possible inch of her form, arcing into every touch, every kiss – losing herself entirely to his devotion.

Ari had long ago proved attentive when they made love, but it was clear that there was something different about this occasion. He seemed more determined than ever to draw the experience out and took his time lingering along the most sensitive areas.

Nikita arched her hips in invitation, her nails catching in his chest hair as they met in another passionate embrace when he joined them together.

In little time at all, they eased into a familiar rhythm.

She clutched at his shoulder blades as their movements lost grace, leaving half-moon indents and crying out sharply while the pleasure became blinding.

He slowed, cradling her close and steadying their motions before she could be overwhelmed.

It helped to concentrate on him, focusing on the sea of blue that was his eyes, which had turned darker in arousal. Loose tendrils of hair framed his face attractively, and his gaze was completely fixed upon hers in silent encouragement.

The love there was evident, her heart thundering and a tell-tale shiver coursing up her spine, signifying that completion was near.

In perfect unison: they reached their peak, cresting together on sensation until nothing existed save for sheer bliss.

A few hours later, Nikita ran her fingers lazily through Ari’s mussed hair as her fiancé nuzzled her shoulder tiredly.

After engaging in multiple rounds, the couple had relocated to the couch and were currently recuperating – tangled up in each other and several fleece blankets.

“We never did finish decorating that tree,” she mentioned.

He groaned and lifted his head just long enough to take a look before replying. “It can wait. You’ve exhausted me.”

The corners of her mouth twitched as she held back a laugh and put as much innocence as she could into her voice. “Maybe that was the point.”

He paused, shifting in order to stare down at her. “…it was revenge for the snowball fight earlier, wasn’t it?”

Her answer was a giggle and to draw him into a romantic kiss. “I’ll never tell.”

“Just remember that misbehavior during this time of year is usually frowned upon,” he nibbled tantalizingly at her mouth, evidently not meaning a word.

“Well from now on I’ll be a saint, I promise,” her shoulders shook with mirth as she tugged away.

With a fond expression, he reached out and caressed over the side of her face, tucking a stray lock of hair over her ear. “Just be Nikita.”

As far as she was concerned, it was the easiest thing to agree to.

The End

#nikari #fanfiction #mrsreginagold #ari x nikita #peter outerbridge #nikita mears #ari tasarov #nikita 2010 #have a holiday fic lovelies #otp: this is the life we've chosen #otp: enemy mine

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sailorshadzter · 1 year ago

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some post battle of the bastards jonsa

cause you know....

thats everything

“Where have you been?”

She stops in her tracks, cloak falling from her shoulders, blue eyes widening. Turning, she finds herself face to face with him, with Jon, who sits in the chair nearest the fire- neither of them know now, but it will become his place in her rooms- his Stark gray eyes somber in their gaze. “Out.” She replies, shrugging out of her cloak and draping it over the empty chair she stands beside, her hands frozen, her heartbeat steady.

“Is he dead?” He asks without preamble, thinking of the man just hours before he’d pummeled until there was almost nothing left.

She thinks back to what she left behind, to the screams in the night, to the sound of flesh tearing from bones- she only wishes it were the first time she’d heard such a thing. “Yes,” she admits, because she can’t imagine he’s survived what she’s put him through. Jon rises up from where he sits, his bandaged hand reaching for her; his fingertips leave fire in their wake as they trace the curve of her cheek, his gray eyes never straying from hers. “I’m fine,” she insists, softly, brokenly, the pain she felt only traded for another kind. It would never end, she supposes, this pain of hers. “It’s what he deserved.”

“Aye,” Jon answers with a nod, his hand slipping from her cheek.

She feels cold, lost, without his touch; she wonders if he thinks less of her now, if she’s made some sort of mistake. “I did it for Rickon,” she continues, thinking of her beloved baby brother, the one she used to cradle to her chest, the one who once clung to her skirts. “I did it for him.” Jon closes his eyes for one long moment, thinking of the brother he’d lost, of the brother he couldn’t protect. When he opens his eyes, she’s still there, the one thing in this life he could save, the one person he could keep safe, no matter the cost. “I did it for him,” she whispers again, tears streaking her cheeks, fists clinging to the dirtied fabric of his doublet.

“I know,” he says, arms slinging around her, drawing her in; she’s never been this close before.

When she buries her face into his chest, he feels complete, a feeling he’s never felt before. His arms tighten their grip on her lithe frame, realizing now how little weight she’s gained back since their reunion some weeks ago. Jon wants to think that they’re safe, that there is nothing left to fight against, but he knows as well as she does that this is only the beginning. There were lions and the undead left to fight, after all. “I love you,” she whispers, as a good sister should, and Jon feels his heart skip a beat.

He holds her at arms length now, gray eyes meeting blue, and he knows that this was where he was meant to be. This was where he was supposed to be. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, leaning in so he might press a kiss to her cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. When she exhales, he could almost discern disappointment, but he thinks it must be his own imagination. “I’ll keep you safe, Sansa,” he adds, softer now, his voice but a whisper against the crown of her head. She laughs, softly, curling inward so she might place her head against his chest, so his heart might beat against the shell of her ear.

“I know,” she says as he had said sometime before, believing in him as she’s never before believed in anyone before.

It was only the beginning, she supposes, the earliest of days, yet she believes in him as if she’s known him all her life- and she has, that’s true, but she’s never bothered to know him as she knows him now. His forehead to hers, she’s smiling, the warmth of his touch at the small of her back all she’s ever needed.

It was all she’s ever wanted.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #i wrote this #my writing

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jacksgreysays · 1 year ago

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35. things you said that made me feel real + Shikako/Gaara, royalty!AU

Anonymous asked: "welcome to the show," Kankurou and Shikako, chaotic political intrigue with a hefty dose of theater

First off, here are all eleven mentions/instances of the Shikaara royalty!AU that I could find because gods know I never came up with a title for that AU and thus have never tagged them for my own convenience: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. But if you don’t want to read those (most of them are three sentence fic, so it’s not too long, but I get it) then just know that Gaara, youngest prince of Wind, and Shikako, a daughter of a minor noble from Fire, literally bump into each other during Crown Princess Temari’s coronation and the tabloids turn their meeting into the fairy tale romance of the ages.

Okay now that that’s done: Anon(s) I’m also sorry for bundling your prompts together, but this time it’s because they were LITERALLY RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER in my inbox and also, the juxtaposition is SO FUNNY TO ME and also, also, adds additional nuance to both of them that I now cannot untangle them in my mind.

Well, I mean, I COULD. And you would theoretically get a very sweet, serene, straightforward Shikako and Gaara fall in love with each for real during the quiet moments behind what the rest of the world sees as their whirlwind romance via tabloids. Then a separate Kankurou and Shikako being bros and, essentially, grifting [insert number and which countries] daimyo(s) with some kind of stage performance as the cover/distraction while the actual mission is something else entirely. So not exactly The Producers, but a little bit? Also, a little bit like Ask Box Three Sentence Fic 8.2

BUT, what I think I like best about combining the two prompts is that the conflict of the narrative is built in with the softly budding, earnest Shikaara romance having to compete with the wilder, flashier PR scam that Kankurou and Shikako are running. Which does then get into the worldbuilding of: hey, actually, how much privacy do members of the nobility have and what is their duty to their countries and is publicity only good publicity when you control it?

HOWEVER, I’ll be honest, what REALLY got me into wanting to combine these two prompts is that, well…

In response to the first prompt (things you said that made me feel real) my brain immediately went to:

“Do you trust me?” she asks, hand outstretched. Gaara can hear the noise of the press, even muffled as they are by the door separating the green room from the stage. He doesn’t have a very good relationship with the press, his older siblings are more charming, more practiced, he mostly just wants to hide away from all the prying eyes. Though he supposes that’s what got him here in the first place. “Do you trust me?” Shikako repeats, hand still reaching out to him, and it’s now that he notices how it’s trembling, slightly. That she, too, doesn’t like the limelight. That she had also just been looking for a quiet place to hide, during their fateful meeting weeks ago. He puts his hand in hers, matching her grip in an attempt to ameliorate both of their nerves. “Yes,” he says, before they jump into fray together.

And then, because I will always, ALWAYS be in love with Chapter 95 (which even kicked off my whole recursive fic writing in the first place) my brain glommed onto the magic carpet-esque sand platform after the fight and what I’m saying is:

Shikako is Aladdin and Gaara is Jasmine, which ULTIMATELY makes Kankurou the Genie which I think is great :D

And so the second prompt comes in with Kankurou in the Genie role, just doing his best to make this PR machine work in their favor so that he can prove that being a royal doesn’t have to mean being miserable all the time (and also so that he can abdicate his place as first in line after Temari in relative peace)

Because if you really think about it—Gaara is second in line for an entire country (for now, though if Kankurou has his way, he’ll probably be bumped up to first). And, yes, his place will probably drop if/when Temari has kids. BUT, that’s a lot of responsibility. And I don’t exactly know HOW active/how much authority royalty actually has in this world. If it’s more figurehead-ish or if they actually do have executive power in the government. But either way, I don’t think he would have complete freedom over who he gets to be with, in the sense that he still has to do what is best for his country.

BUT, what if Kankurou can make it so that what is best for Wind IS to have the fairytale romance with Shikako and to make it real? (ie, good morale boost/PR for the country, kind of like what was going on with Princess Diana, RIP, and Charles’ relationship but actually good instead of being behind the scenes awful)

So then you have to bridge the gap between literal second (first?) in line for an entire country and the daughter of a minor peerage from Fire. I think I made Fire a five clan oligarchy made up of the canon four noble clans plus the Senju, which—finally my garbage taste in trash manhwa is paying off!—would probably make each of those five clans duchies. And if the Akimichi has the rank of Duke/Duchess, then the Yamanaka and the Nara are their subordinates which means that they are either Marquis/Marquess or Count/Countess.

Add on top of that, Shikako isn’t even her father’s heir. I mean, she could be if she wanted to fight Shikamaru for it, but she suuuuper doesn’t want it or to fight him for it. So… she might not even have a title at all, technically?

I mean, depending on how wild I want to get with the “prequel/backstory” of the royalty!AU (ie, Naruto’s Princess Diaries meets Anastasia fairy tale of realizing that he’s actually the long lost prince of Uzushio because of a grand adventure to meet the Duchess Tsunade) she may have been awarded a title for her “service.” But it still wouldn’t necessarily match Gaara’s second(/first) in line for the Wind monarchy.

Hence why Kankurou has to be the Genie and gas up Shikako’s reputation in Wind a la Prince Ali Ababwa. So you can see how that much chaotic energy and masks on masks and rumor manipulation would be the opposing force of Gaara and Shikako serenely, earnestly falling in love.

Then again, if we REALLY need like… an actual bad guy… I suppose there is the whole… just me scavenging from the Gaara Hiden novel again … Sand council arranging Gaara’s marriage with Hokuto of the Houki family (who would be a high ranking Wind noble in this world). Or maybe I do use the Akatsuki as international terrorist group and technically Shikako is a known associate of one of their members thing? But… I don’t particularly like that plot… so… probably not.

ANYWAYS, just imagine Kankurou having to somehow make the flashiest fairytale romance of the century with two quiet nerds who would much rather not be in the spotlight, please and thank you. He is a stage manager struggling to herd these two cats. Sure, he’s got Jinzo on the Wind side, but he’s also going to need so much of Ino’s help to wrangle Shikako. HE’S DOING HIS BEST WITH WHAT HE’S GOT, OKAY?

Thank you for the prompts, anon(s), I had fun!

#jacksgreyson #anonymous #ask box advent calendar #dreaming of sunshine #shikako nara #sabaku no gaara #sabaku no kankurou #fanfiction #writing #brainstorm

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bloomlips · 1 month ago

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FAMILY

gabi's family

BIGBANG DR ✷ get to know gabi's family

KIM AUDREY

kim audrey 김오드리 — 54 — fire, freedom, the woman who taught gabi how to stand tall

a hurricane in red lipstick, silk draped over sharp edges, laughter that cuts through a room like a spark to gasoline. audrey is a woman the world cannot hold down, a single mother who built a life with her own two hands, carved a future from nothing but determination and fire. gabi grew up watching her mother move through the world like a force of nature—stubborn, stunning, untouchable.

people whisper that time has forgotten her, that she must have made some deal with the universe, because at fifty-four, she moves with the grace of someone untouched by age, eyes still burning with the same defiance she had at twenty.

she taught gabi how to work, how to fight, how to never let the world tell her what she could or couldn't be. “you want something?” she’d say, cigarette dangling between perfectly manicured fingers, “then take it, gabi. no one’s gonna hand it to you.”

she raised her daughter with steel in her spine and sugar on her tongue, a perfect balance of charm and bite.

and maybe, in some ways, gabi is her mirror—soft smiles hiding something sharper beneath, the kind of beauty that turns heads but the kind of will that leaves men trembling. audrey watches her daughter rise, pride curling at the corner of her painted lips, knowing that the fire in gabi’s veins came from her own.

KIM TAEGWAN

kim taegwan 김태관 — 78 — iron will, old money, a man who bends for nothing

a name spoken with weight, with quiet reverence, the kind of man whose presence stills a room before he even enters. taegwan is legacy wrapped in a tailored suit, a lifetime of power pressed into sharp lines and cold precision. he built an empire with his own hands, carved his place in the world with the sheer force of his will, and he expected his daughter, audrey, to follow—until she didn’t. until she tore herself from his grip, defiant, reckless, wild-hearted, and left him with nothing but a name that burned in his mouth and a granddaughter he refused to acknowledge.

for years, silence stretched between them like a canyon, the weight of disapproval too heavy to cross. audrey had betrayed everything he had built—his rules, his reputation, his carefully constructed world. a child, born out of wedlock? without a father? his daughter had gone too far. she was too reckless.

but time has a way of softening even the sharpest edges, and when gabi turned seven, something in him cracked. maybe it was curiosity, maybe regret, maybe the realization that blood ties do not break so easily.

he returned not with apologies, but with presence, stepping into gabi’s life like a shadow that had always been there. strict, composed, unyielding—he was never the kind to kneel, never the kind to soften, but gabi, with her wide eyes and quiet strength, unsettled something in him. she was not just audrey’s daughter. she was his granddaughter. and though he would never say it in words, in the stiffness of his posture or the careful way he watched over her, it was clear—he would not make the mistake of losing her too.

MIN JISU

min jisu 민지수 — 72 — elegance carved from ice, a woman who does not bend

born into legacy, raised in a house where tradition was law and obedience was survival. min jisu carries her name like a crown, like a chain—daughter of an old and noble lineage, married off to a man who matched her in power and pride. she has never known anything but discipline, composure, the quiet strength of a woman who exists not for herself, but for the family name. love was never part of the equation, only duty, only the unspoken understanding that weakness was a luxury she could not afford.

so when audrey, her only daughter, threw everything away for the sake of reckless passion—a child, born out of wedlock—jisu did what she had been taught to do—cut the wound before it could fester.

disowning her was not cruelty; it was necessity, a lesson that had to be learned. but time has not softened her, not the way it did taegwan. where he allowed himself to return, to open the door just a little, jisu remains unmoved, her heart a locked vault. gabi is a product of shame, a reminder of the disgrace that audrey dragged their family through, and jisu does not forget.

an idol. a performer. a girl who sells beauty and charm for the adoration of strangers. jisu looks at gabi and sees everything she despises—frivolity, vanity, a life built on fleeting attention instead of dignity. she will never say it outright, but in the sharp curve of her gaze, in the way she refuses to speak gabi’s name unless necessary, the message is clear: she is not, and will never be, one of them.

#𐙚 — kim gabi — kpop idol dr !!#𐙚 — BLOOMLIPS !!

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starlitwinter · 1 year ago

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Short chapter, I know but well, I didn't had the heart to write a full smut so I had to cut it off... TW: non-con (?), there is a begining of smut, so if you want to skip it, it's between " Teivel let out a groan" and "Their first week as newlyweds" See you next time!

Chapter Text

Teivel pulled her in a dance as soon that she left Artanis, slightly pissed off by her disappearance. His grip was tight on her waist, surely going to leave marks on her skin.

“A little bird told me something” said Teivel, one of his hand gripping her chin to make her face him, as he made them slowly go to an dark corner. “Do you know what that’s little bird told me about my sweet sweet wife?”

Nenlissë frowned “What are you talking about Teivel?

-Your cousin, my little mouse, I heard that you’ve been quite close to your cousin. Letting him hold you, kiss you, love you.

-Turko?”

Teivel rolled his eyes in annoyance, his grip tightening on Lissë’s chin. “Yes. Your sweet and kind Turko. Are you cheating on your poor husband with your cousin, Lissë?

-What? No! What are you even talking about!”

Teivel stared into her eyes, fishing in her memories to know the truth. His face finally cracked into a loving smile before he pulled Nenlissë by her chin to press his lips to hers. “Oh, my Lissë. Pardon me, I was merely jealous of your relationship with your cousin. You two are quite close. I love you, you know that? I would never hurt you, pet.”

His sweet lies rolled on Nenlissë’s mind and her frown was washed away as she smiled to him. “I love you too” She replied as he wrapped his arms back around her waist and only hummed in agreement, making them dance back in the light, pressing a little kiss to her forehead before he changed the subject of their conversation and appear like a loving husband.

“I can feel your annoyance, sweetpea” he whispered to her “what’s the matter?” he asked in her mind, trying to look in her memories. Nenlissë just sighed. “I had an unpleasant chat with my sister. That’s all. But we settle it down. Nothing to worry about.” she replied before saying out loud. “Let’s just enjoy our wedding without any more disturbances, my beloved”

He nodded at that before pulling her in a tighter hug and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Just tell me when you’ll want to retire, understood?” he muttered against her hair, enjoying the lilac fragrance he could smell. “But we’ll have to talk about what happened earlier” he slipped in her mind before kissing her lips. “Your family is awaiting for us.”

—

Well after the golden light had changed for the silver, the party began to die down and everyone was simply chatting, no longer dancing or eating. Teivel was sat down on a cover on the grass, Nenlissë between his legs, her back resting against his torso. Teivel was discussing with one of his friend Nenlissë supposed, an elf she didn’t remembered the name. Teivel’s arms were wrapped around her waist, his thumbs caressing her knuckles. Nenlissë yawned, feeling her eyes flutter shut and her body slumber more into Teivel. The elf just pulled her more closer, now resting his head on her shoulder. “You’re feeling tired, doll?” he whispered, his lips grazing her cheek, not bothered by doing and exposing some affection in front of the elf he was previously talking to. Lissë just nodded and Teivel smiled before helping her to get up and quickly excused them before leading Nenlissë away from where the people had gathered.

“Do you want to go to bed, my lovely girl?” He asked her softly, already heading them back to her parents’ house. “Shouldn’t we bid our goodnight?” She asked softly but Teivel shook his head. “No need, you’re barely standing on your own, so much you are tired. And I want you all for myself. My wife.” He replied, kissing her temple then her cheek as he opened her bedroom door and locked it at soon they entered.

Nenlissë smiled at him before throwing her arms around his neck and tiptoed to kiss his lips. Their embrace quickly become heated, his tongue slipped in her mouth, his hands creeping closer to her rear, resting on her hips and small of her back, pressing her closer.

Teivel let out a groan as Lissë began to play with his black hair, her fingers rubbing slightly his skull.

“You’re making it very difficult for me not to rip this dress from your body and make you mine.

- What if it is what I want?

-At least let me undress you, it would be a shame to destroy that sublime dress” He whispered to her, his hand traveling higher on her back to find the laces and gently took them off. His lips pressed kisses to the skin of her neck, of her shoulders, her cleavage and after, pulling the dress down to her feet, her breasts.

“Teivel- Wait” Nenlissë, blushing as her lover, her husband began to lick the soft flesh of her chest. The elf looked up at his wife with a little smirk “What is it my love? Are you going to deny me that pleasure?” She stared down at him before shaking her head “N-No but…” He didn’t even let her finish her sentence and took her nipple in mouth, sucking like a starving child at her breast. His hands traveled down to her lingerie and again she tried to stop his hands. “Tei-” The elf sneered, pushing the woman down her bed, staring down at her. “Stop, Nenlissë. You are my wife. You are not in a position to say no to me. It has to be done.” He climbed on top of her, trapping her against the mattress. “Don’t you want to fit in here? Don’t worry, my darling, I’m going to take care of you.” He finished, taking off his own robes before pressing a long kiss to her lips, pressing his body against hers. “Everything is going to alright” He whispered, his eyes shining with a new light our human had never saw. “Just let me do as I want, doll”

That night was long as Teivel took time to fulfill all his needs and Nenlissë let him do so, let him use her body until he fell asleep beside her.

Their first week as newlyweds was a week Teivel made a point to not let her leave the bed, only for absolute necessity. Time passed and Nenlissë, again caught up in her love bliss, forgot about the upcoming future and let Teivel isolate her more and more from her family, keeping jealously the human in his house, letting her go out when he was around, constantly fishing in her memories to be sure she obeyed his wishes and had no suspicions about his dirty secret.

At that part of her life, Nenlissë was a fool. A complete fool and she would regret not questioning Teivel’s behavior earlier.

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ladylooch · 2 years ago

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can I request maybe some Nico fluff. maybe some comfort too 👉👈

A/N: Thank you for this 🥰

Nico fluff may be the best fluff. This is part of the What My World Spins Around AU

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: She's drunk, fluff, mentions of male genitalia, a lil handsy- above the clothes stuff.

The key hole of mine and Nico’s apartment swirls in my vision as I attempt to stab my key in. I blink, trying to steady the circle in my line of vision. The world keeps spinning and my eyes close again. I sway into the door and giggle.

Drunk might be an understatement for me.

The Devils ladies all went out on the town to celebrate our Bachelorette, Drey. Fully decked out in penis attire, we tossed back shots of vodka, tequila, and something else pink and sugary that I can’t remember the name of. It was entirely too much fun and alcohol. I barely made it out of the Lyft without falling on my face.

I brace my hand against the door to push off. I look down at the penis swinging from the gaudy pink necklace around my neck. I giggle again, then attempt to shove the key back in. I gasp in excited surprise when it goes in. I flip the lock and stumble through the door. I wince, noticing my disturbance of our dark and silent apartment. It’s well after 2:00am and it’s good Nico is asleep. Tomorrow is another game day.

I carefully grope my way in the dark to the kitchen counter. I settle my purse there then reach down to unzip my black ankle bootie.

“Fuc-” The whole word doesn’t make it out of my mouth before I’m falling over onto the oak floor. I clasp my hand over my mouth as giggles assault me again. Tears pool in my eyes as I gasp for breath between my fingers. My abdominal muscles crunch with tension at trying to hold the noise in.

Nico’s chuckle from above me has my eyes flying open in surprise. I release my full laughter when I see him awake.

“I fell over.” I tell him between breathy giggles.

“I see that.” He responds, smile stretching his cheeks wide.

“I think I need help.” I croak at him, holding my foot up towards his face. He secures it in his hands, holding the heel with one and sliding the zipper down with the other. He pulls the shoe off, tossing it to the floor behind him. He releases that foot, then motions for me to put the other up. I do so silently, watching the way he looks at me. While I’m drunk on alcohol, he’s drunk on love.

All night while we celebrated Drey, I couldn’t stop the yearning for my day. I could see myself dressed in white, a cheap crown on my head and big, pink heart sunglasses pressing to my face. When it’s my turn, I want it all. I want a large cut out of Nico’s face and my favorite kind of cookies and a silky, pink sash with Future Mrs. Hischier in gold, glittery letters.

“Do you like my necklace?” I ask Nico as he tosses the other boot away. I spin the large penis around my finger, flicking my tongue out at him. Nico laughs loudly, raising his eyebrows at my suggestiveness.

“You like dicks bigger than that.” He jokes. My head falls back to the floor as I laugh loudly.

“I do!” I exclaim as he holds his hands out for me to get up. I grip them tight and he tugs me standing. “Oh no…” I sway to the right, but Nico steadies me. My nose scrunches up and I grip his biceps hard. “The room is… spinning.” I sputter, gritting my teeth against the nausea I feel. “Bleh.”

“Yeah, the beds probably going to as well.” He tells me. “Let’s get you some water. That should help.”

He helps me to the sink then shuffles between a few cabinets and the fridge. He returns with a cup that’s fizzing and swirling with ice cubes.

“W’as this?” I murmur, bringing it to my lips anyway and taking a glug. “Oooo it’s salty.”

“There’s a Nuun in there. I’m trying to get some electrolytes back into you.”

“That’s gonna kill my buzz.” I say, extending the cup back to him.

“Drink, baby.” He says, using his no nonsense tone. I furrow my eyebrows together sarcastically with a pout.

“Oh, Captain Serious is here now.” Nico snorts laughter at me, leaning his butt against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah and he says no bed until that glass is gone.”

I try my best, but can only get half of the glass down.

“My legs are tired.” I whine to him, trying to slide down to sit on the floor.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just go to bed.” He is laughing at me again, my pathetic nature making his sweetness accelerate. His hands wrap around my body, pulling me tight to him. His lips hover over mine as he takes my necklaces off along with the feathered boa I forgot I was wearing. As he sets them on the counter, I feel a tug of uncertainty.

“You’re gonna marry me right?” I whisper against his lips when he leans down to kiss me. I hang from his shoulders like a baby chimp. Nico pulls back so he can see my full face. His strong hands squeeze my back ribs assuringly then slide down to tuck in the back pockets of my jeans.

“Yes, baby. I’m going to marry you.” He presses our lips together again.

“Right now?”

“No sweets. I want you sober when I promise forever with you.” He chuckles. His hands glide to lift me by the backs of my thighs.

“That is soooo sweet.” I sigh to him, resting my cheek on his shoulder. His assurance has a happy bubble building in my chest. I burrow my nose into his neck, enjoying the way his stubble tickles my skin.

We get to bed and he begins to undress me. Soft kisses are placed all along my body. First on my shoulder, then on my chest, followed by my thighs and calves. My skin buzzes from the connection. I watch with burdensome lids as he replaces my bachelorette clothes with pajamas.

“Touch me.” I ask him, biting my lip as he slides his large t-shirt over my shoulders. His thumbs come up, circling my nipples twice before pulling the hem all the way down. He’s too much of a gentleman to take it any further. He pulls the comforter back on my side. I crawl my way slowly up, settling against my pillow to wait for him.

When he slides into bed with me, I snuggle up close to his side, curling my knees up into a comfort cocoon with him. My hand wanders down to the tie on his pants, fiddling with it.

“Tomorrow, love.” He murmurs to me, lacing our fingers together and moving them to rest on his chest beside my head.

“I think you’re too good for me.” I whisper to him, eyes lazily blinking as sleep begin to call for me. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“Me either.” His eyes don’t even open as he speaks to me. He’s so sure, holding his forever. I grin, pressing my lips to his pec over his shirt. When I place my cheek on top of my kiss, his hand comes to stroke at my scalp. His fingers weave their way between my now sloppy curls, massaging me into a deep, drunken sleep.

#nico hischier blurbs #nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #New Jersey devils #nhl fan fiction #hockey writing #hockey fic #NHL fic #writing request #my writing

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dino-fart · 2 years ago

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maybe og stephen was not really the best bf and the only reason why hes with reader is to cope with christine but out of nowhere sinister just pops up and takes reader to his universe and maybe shows her how much hes better and how much he can love and take care of her just overall angst to smut- to fluff.

Oooo!

The only brightness in this dark and empty Sanctum that Stephen found himself in was you. You in your new small fairy form, kept in a glass cage so you wouldn't get hurt. He traveled all this way to stop Wanda and had completely forgotten that you were with him. How dare he?! You were his girlfriend!

He removed the cage from his sash and put it down on the table. He looked up to see another version of him and began to speak to him. You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed in anger, your whole glow turned red. After some time, you heard the cage door open and you heard Stephen shout. "Wait no!" He said.

You flew out immediately and headed to the Sanctum window. You gasped seeing the disarray of the dimension you were in. What was worse was when you looked down to see the red-headed woman that you couldn't stand because of Stephen. Why the hell was Christine here?! You turned around and flew toward Stephen with lightning speed.

Your glow was back to red and pointed your finger at him angrily. While you couldn't speak in this new form, the message was clear to him. Stephen grabbed you and pulled you away from him. You kicked your feet and slammed your tiny fists on his fingers. "And who is this, pretty little thing?" You heard Stephen's voice but it wasn't coming from your Stephen…

You turned your head to see a grim-looking Stephen standing across from you. "She doesn't concern you," Stephen said and you rolled your eyes.

"It's very rare to find fairies or any fae kind in your dimension. And it seems like you've upset her." Sinister Strange smirked. You nodded your head in agreement and Stephen released you. "Come to me, lovely," Sinister said to you and extended the palm of his hand. You flew down to land on his palm and noticed how different this Stephen was. He looked…Angry and sad.

You tilted your head at him and watched snapped his fingers to create a small rose crown on your head. Your cheeks and your glow turned pink and you gave him a bashful smile. "How did you find her?" Sinster asked Stephen.

"She was…Turned into this by Mordo…I got there too late. I've been trying to find a spell to change her back." Stephen said. You stuck your tongue out at him and huffed in anger.

"Ah, so you aren't always a fairy, hm? What are you to him?" Sinister asked you.

"She's a friend," Stephen answered and your glow went blue.

You turned around to face Stephen and seeing how uncaring he was brought tears to your eyes. Stephen looked away from you in shame then suddenly purple smoke surrounded you and the next thing you know you were in the arms of Sinister. "Better?" He said and you realized how close you were to him. You moved away from him and walked over to the window to see your reflection. You were back to your normal stature but you still had your fairy wings, the rose crown which was tiny on your head now, and your fairy outfit.

You turned around and hugged Sinister tightly. You tried to say thank you but nothing came out of your mouth. "It'll take a few hours for you to be completely back to normal." He ran his hands through your hair and gazed at you. Your cheeks turned red and you leaned up to press your lips against his. Sinister cupped the back of your head and kissed you deeply.

When he pulled back from the kiss you felt like fainting at how good of a kisser he was. Sinister caught you in his arms and kissed your cheek. "Ahem…" You heard behind him and looked to see Stephen getting concerned, "I think it's time for us to leave."

Sinister looked at you, "What do you think?" You pressed your body close to him and he gripped your hips tightly. "I think you can leave, Stephen, this beauty and I are fine here." Sinister waved his hand to portal Stephen away. Sinister turned to you and picked you up by your thighs to gently lay you down on the floor. "It's time I show you how you deserve to be treated." Sinister moved laid between your legs and kissed your neck.

You realized that this Stephen would make you happier than anyone ever could…

Tagging:@deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi, @vibaracal, @lostpirateinwonderland

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #sinister strange x reader #requests

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