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chaoticbardlady99 · 11 months ago

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I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

***************************

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

#astarion x female reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #karlach #pregnancy #Astarion x pregnant reader #astarion x f!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #astar

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prickly-paprikash · 1 year ago

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Something cool about Blue Eye Samurai is how sex is juxtaposed with the end-goals.

I really love how our three protagonists are all obsessed. And that obsession defines them, torments them, and are subsequently reborn through their obsessions.

Mizu, of course, is obsessed with the concept of revenge. It's not even about getting even or getting justice as some might use to justify the bloody road taken—it is simply about seeking satisfaction for Mizu. She cuts a bloody swathe across Japan because of what the Four White Devils did to her mother and herself. She does not concern herself with the ramifications of her wrath but merely charges forward, leaving behind a trail of viscera and gore behind her.

Like I said before, her vengeance and obsession with satisfaction is not painted by the show as wrong. It is how she allows it to affect others along the path. It's why the episode with Madame Kaji is so enlightening; Mizu should not tackle this quest as a vengeful revenant; an onryō. She has let the world define her as a monstrosity and so she embraced it, when Swordfather and Madame Kaji knew what the correct path was to satiate her need for vengeance. Treat her sword as the Artisan's tool it truly is. Treat her body the way an Artist would treat their canvas.

Madame Kaji and Swordfather are both outcasts, for being a woman and a blind man. Yet they found strength in their exclusion, becoming single-minded in their fields of art. Because sex is art and swordsmithing is art. It's what makes Mizu's body writing scene so fucking good.

Artistic vision becomes stagnant when one pulls from only one source. They become rigid and unbending when Mizu, like her namesake, must be fluid. She has shown fluidity in her use of her gender and her morals, but cannot apply that same flexibility towards her goal. Throughout season one, she was becoming an uninspired artist, merely painting the world in hues of scarlet. In a world that forces Women to be either Wives or Whores, Mizu chose to be a Warrior—but a warrior fights for a cause, whether it be just or otherwise. A soldier fights in an army. Mizu is neither of these things. She is an Artist first and foremost, and her medium is Death. Sex, something Mizu was at first hesitant before her failed marriage, and something she actively avoided afterwards, is what gives her a new perspective. Like an Illustrator studying life to better draw their intended worlds, taking inspiration from wherever one can find it.

Taigen and Akemi are also equally affected by the artistry of sex, as befitting of Mizu's fellow protagonists.

Akemi is quite obviously Mizu's narrative foil. Mizu chases after revenge like a bloodhound whereas Akemi longs for freedom like a bird in a cage. Both are fierce women who are unsatisfied with their lot in life, with their sex and gender being used against them in their lives. Literally, the episode "The Tale of the Ronin and the Bride" is a fucking triple entendre:

Mizu is the Ronin as well as the Bride.

The play showcases the tale of the Ronin and the Bride.

It is also Mizu as the Ronin and Akemi as the Bride.

And when Mizu finds her center as she melts down her blade and engages in body writing, this scene of enlightenment is juxtaposed with Akemi laying with her new husband Takayoshi. Both, in this moment, are taking control of their lives through sex. They are both taking control of their futures through the ways Madame Kaji taught them. Mizu and Akemi are both rebels against this oppressive society, and are both talented artists with their body. Whether that be sex, politicking, or ass-kicking.

Taigen, like the two women before, finds freedom through it but in a more subtle manner.

Where Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils, both using sex as a form of art and escape, Taigen finds liberation through his awakening.

Like the closeted bisexual man he is, he begins his journey of self-realization when he first encounters Mizu at the Dojo.

Every single battle these two have is purposefully rife with sexual tension. All his life, Taigen has been taught that a man must live with honor. That he must take control of his life and his identity, or he will have failed and that he is better off dead than to live with such shame.

Taigen is just as much a victim of the Patriarchal society around him. Mizu rails against it violently. Akemi seeks to run away from it all. And Taigen, with the privilege given to him by his manhood, chooses to become a perpetrator, enabling the vicious wheel of society to keep moving forward.

His obsession with honor leads him to hunting down and even protecting Mizu. Mizu is no doubt the better warrior, but even she knows she owes so much to Taigen. The blockhead not only did everything to protect her in the valley, but also sealed his lips shut even under the duress of torture. His obsession with honor becomes an obsession with Mizu.

His regrets over tormenting her over her looks and ethnicity as a child. His shame in having lost so decisively in his own dojo. Taigen was a man born with nothing and climbed up to the top with every advantage he could muster, and suddenly it's all ripped away by this one vengeful spirit passing by.

Taigen learns to surrender control around Mizu. He begins to discover his own sexuality and purpose around Mizu, redefining what honor really means to him now that he, as a man, has a budding attraction towards the man who beat him.

Mizu's Vengeance. Akemi's Freedom. Taigen's Honor. In all three, Sex becomes a catalyst in redefining what each of these concepts truly mean to them all. It's not just sex of course, but it is undeniable how the writers keep juxtaposing sexual acts and thoughts with massive character moments.

It changes how Mizu chases after her Vengeance. It recontextualizes how Akemi can be Free. It showcases the absurdity of the Honor forced upon Taigen.

It's so fucking refreshing seeing Sex not used as fanservice or shoe-horned in just to further a stale, poorly written cis-heterosexual romance; but used as a plot point that cannot be ignored. An impetus that fuels the narrative.

Moving forward, I'm curious as to how sex will be used.

The next few ideas aren't as sound or organized because I'm neither Asexual nor Genderfluid, so please if anyone reads this who understands it better, feel free to point it out.

I think it'd be cool if Mizu met the inverse of Madame Kaji. A person who is apathetic to sex. Sure, Swordfather has shades of this, but I'm tired of the person with disabilities also being on the Asexual spectrum. And I'm not saying that Ace or Graysexual people with disabilities don't exist! But they always tend to be written as having some form of disability (Varys from ASOIAF) or a Robot.

Just as artists need a variety of sources to pull inspiration from, I hope in the next seasons we get to see different perspectives on sex and gender. In London, it feels like Mizu finding the other half of herself, and with that having a better way of tackling her own identity. Whether it be gender, sex, combat, etc.

Basically what this inane rambling amounts to is that Blue Eye Samurai tackles sex and violence and revenge and obsession in ways that most media has yet to truly do. So that was pretty cool.

#blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai spoilers #blue eye samurai season 2 #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #akemi #taigen #metal #media analysis #character analysis #blue eye samurai meta #netflix are cowards for not announcing season 2 immediately #come on dickheads #the fans and the creators have been fighting for the green light #hand it over #you cocks #paprikash ramblings

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blackenedsnow · 2 months ago

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IT'S ME AGAIN DON'T ASK WHY AM I HERE AGAIN?!?! I LOVED THE WAY YOU WRITE LIKE OMG?!?? I HAVE 3 IDEAS TODAY YOU CAN CHOOSE ONE OF THEM, OR YOU CAN CHOOSE ONE AND THEN WRITE IT DOWN, YOU CAN DO THE OTHER. IT'S ALL UP TO YOU!!

1-Do you remember the song Guess by Charli XCX and Billie Eillish in Collab? Yes, I have a request for it sooo reader we're so popular singer and shadow was her bodyguard he was her protection yk what I mean who hung out together all the time when they're alone anyway one day at a concert of hers when a group of guys tried to attack the people at the concert and tried to attack her and what was she going to do when shadow wasn't there, she couldn't run away because there were already a lot of people wounded, and suddenly a sword stabbed in behind her, and at that very moment shadow come to the shooting concert..but he was too late. (The man who stabbed reader was sonic and his team btw)

2-yk the comic the hungry hero which is sonic? Okay, I have an excellent second opinion because you can't convince me, that sonic was constantly eating human flesh, especially after Tails died, but after meeting the reader, his desire to eat human flesh increased his desire to eat meat for some reason..was he falling in love with her? but it couldn't have been possible! he couldn't have fallen in love with anyone! He changed his mind until the reader found herself eating human flesh in his house when he intived her and he fell even more in love.

3- Reader and shadow were created for Maria, but Professor Gerald had never paid attention to the reader,maria couldn't convince her grandfather to make reader spend time with her, but the reader was kept in the big glass all the time, and shadow cast doubt on that, After Maria's death, the reader had finally been freed by GUN, she had attack the city which is sonics team and shadow. She had begun to attack the city where the rain and thunder did not stop in the sky...But the color of the sky was mixed with purple and black. Finally, the reader showed herself on top of a large building.. pale skin, purple eyes with light blue pupils, and long, dark violet hair that becomes lighter at the ends,she also has a beauty mark below her right eye.. (The reader a game character named raiden shogun by genshin impact) she said "Inactivity serves no purpose whatsoever." sonics team tried to talk to her but not q moment later they found themselves a dark domain and she was the owner of that domain, she Said "we meet again,shadow." Would he be able to convince her?

project Raiden Ei,her purpose was make people feel safe and loved, after marias death..project failed to save the people and her beloved sister.

forgotten project

WARNING: Violence, emotional conflict, hurt/comfort

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Raiden Shogun!Reader

NOTE: You again!! I absolutely love your ideas—thank you so much for trusting me with them again! As for your requests, I’m not super familiar with the first two (though they sound amazing!), but since I’m somewhat familiar with Genshin, I’ll go with the third idea. I know this isn't what you asked for, but instead of "Raiden" I made the reader Y/N. That way if anyone wants to self insert they can. But all of reader describes Raiden!!

SUMMARY: After Maria’s death, you, a forgotten project created alongside Shadow, are freed and seek revenge on the world that failed you. As you lay waste to the city, Shadow steps in, hoping to remind you of your true purpose before it’s too late.

The sky above the city churned violently, dark clouds swirling as rain lashed against the streets below. Thunder boomed in the distance, shaking the windows of the few standing buildings, while purple lightning split the heavens with terrifying force. Chaos reigned in every corner of the city, and in the center of it all stood a figure—cold, unmoved by the destruction that unfolded around her.

You stood on top of the tallest building, the storm your perfect companion as you watched the streets below. Your hair billowed in the wind, the tips glowing faintly as they lightened in color. Your eyes scanned the city as if searching for something—or someone.

“Inactivity serves no purpose whatsoever,” you muttered to yourself, your voice calm despite the chaos. You weren’t here to cause destruction for its own sake, after all. Your purpose was clear: make the people feel safe and loved. But after Maria’s death, that purpose had become twisted, lost in the storm of grief and confusion that overtook you. Your project—your existence—had failed.

And now, you were ready to make them all pay.

Far below, Sonic’s team had gathered, the weight of your presence pressing down on them like a physical force. They’d been trying to contain the damage for hours, but it was clear that this wasn’t just an ordinary disaster.

“What do we do?” Knuckles muttered, scanning the sky as another bolt of lightning flashed overhead. “Who is she?”

Tails shook his head, his eyes wide with worry. “I don’t know, but she’s powerful. We’ve got to find a way to stop her before the entire city gets leveled.”

Shadow stood a little apart from the others, his expression unreadable as he stared up at the building where you stood. Unlike the others, he recognized you immediately, even after all these years. His heart clenched in his chest as memories flooded his mind—memories of you trapped in that glass, forgotten and left behind while he was free to roam the ARK with Maria.

You were a project, just like him. Created for Maria, meant to serve the same purpose: protecting her, keeping those on the ARK safe, loved. But Professor Gerald had never given you the same attention, never let you experience the world outside of that containment. Maria had begged her grandfather to let you out, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

After her death, everything had fallen apart. Shadow had been freed by GUN, but you—had remained trapped, your potential left to fester in the dark.

Until now.

Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles were still trying to reason with you. Sonic stepped forward, holding up a hand, his usual cocky grin tempered with caution. “Hey, look, we get it. You’re upset, but wrecking the city isn’t going to bring anyone back. We can help—”

He didn’t get to finish. The moment Sonic spoke, the entire world around them shifted. The bright city streets, the wreckage, even the rain—all of it was swallowed in darkness. The sky above became a swirling void of black and purple, and the ground beneath their feet felt unreal, like they were standing on the edge of an abyss.

They were in your domain now.

You stood before them, your form as solid as the storm, yet otherworldly in the way you seemed to command the very space around her. You raised a hand, and the air itself trembled with power. “We meet again, Shadow.”

Your voice was colder now, distant, as though you were speaking not just to him, but to the shadow of a past you had long left behind. Shadow stepped forward from the group, his crimson eyes locked on hers. Memories of the ARK flashed through his mind—of Maria, of the years spent protecting her. But you had been kept from all of that, trapped in isolation, your purpose unfulfilled.

And now, here you stood, the embodiment of a failed dream.

“Y/N…” Shadow’s voice was steady, though tension rippled through him. He could feel the power you held, and it was vast—far more than anything he had imagined. “What are you doing? You weren't created to destroy.”

Your gaze narrowed slightly, the storm above rumbling in response. “You speak of purpose as though you understand it, Shadow. But you—just like me—were created to serve. To be a tool. And like me, you were cast aside when you no longer served a purpose.”

Shadow clenched his fists. “That’s not true. Maria—”

“Maria is dead!” Yourr voice cut through the air like a blade, and the entire domain around them shuddered. “I was meant to keep the ARK safe, just as you were. But Professor Gerald never allowed it. I was left to watch from behind glass as you, the favored creation, failed everybody.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, heavy with grief and fury. For so long, you had been nothing but a failed experiment, a project abandoned after the one you were meant to protect was taken from you. And now, in your eyes, the world had to pay for that failure.

Shadow stepped forward, undeterred by the crackling energy that surrounded her. “I didn't fail her. I understand your anger. I understand the loss. But this… this isn’t what Maria would have wanted.”

Your eyes flashed, your hand raising as a bolt of lightning struck the ground between them. The force sent the others reeling, but Shadow stood firm. “I didn't even know Maria as well as you did.,” you hissed, your voice low and dangerous. “You were given the chance to be with her. I was left to rot in that glass prison.”

“I’m not the one you’re angry at,” Shadow said, his voice softening. “It’s not me. It’s not this world. It’s the people who kept us apart. You’re lashing out because you’ve been hurt, but you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Your expression faltered, just for a moment, before the steel returned to your eyes. “It’s too late for that. There’s nothing left for me now. Nothing except this… this power, and the destruction it brings.”

But as you spoke, there was a flicker of doubt in your gaze. Shadow knew that beneath the fury, the pain still lingered. He took a step closer, his voice low. “You don’t have to be alone anymore. I couldn’t save Maria. But maybe I can save you.”

For a long moment, you stood still, your eyes locked on his. The storm above raged on, the dark domain around them swirling with tension, but there was a shift in the air. The anger that had fueled your destruction began to waver, and for the first time, Shadow saw something other than fury in your eyes.

He saw fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of failing again.

And in that moment, something broke.

You lowered you hand, the power that had been crackling around you slowly dissipating. The storm above began to calm, and the purple and black sky started to fade into a dull gray. The domain, you domain, began to unravel, and the familiar cityscape of rain-soaked streets around them.

But you didn’t move. You stood there, your eyes staring at Shadow, as if searching for something—something you hadn’t found in years. “What am I supposed to do now?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Shadow stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “We can figure that out together. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

The others—Sonic, Tails, Knuckles—watched in silence as the tension in the air finally broke. You, the weapon once created to protect, stood before Shadow, your power still immense but no longer driven by rage. And as the storm slowly died, there was a sense of quiet between you, as though the two of you had finally found some measure of understanding.

For the first time since the fall of the ARK, You weren't alone.

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog fanfic #sonic fanfic #sonic x reader #x reader #ask #oneshot #request #fanfic

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inconmess · 6 months ago

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So the whole fight, I am trying to type my way through it to process stuff, may have gotten some things wrong, may go back and edit some stuff but...

Spoilers so I am putting this under the cut cuz I am likely to go into detail and make it a long post. I don't know

It started with Laudna thinking about Orym having the blade strapped on his back. Not her thinking it is cursed.

Delilah escalates that thought of thinking into it possibly being a cursed sword, and hey, I won't discount the fact that Laudna may have taken it without Delilah's influence but Delilah egging on her definitely make it more certain for Laudna to take it.

And look at this, she could've just woken up Orym and talked about her concerns but I think deep inside, she knew that he wouldn't agree for her to absorb the blade either way. Hence the stealthy try to take it.

She takes her precautions, fails and she knows Orym is a soldier. She knows what he can do. Which is also the reason she cast Darkness while she tried to take it. So she also shouldn't be surprised if he attacks her in the Darkness because he can't see and had just been hurt.

Even if Delilah's push, I can understand the argument she made. They don't know if the blade is cursed or sentient. They don't know how the blade could affect him. The Blade has killed party members and Laudna is traumatised by it. Understandable why she doesn't want to see it or see anyone using it.

She could just ask Orym to put it away, talked it out with him. If it was just about him wielding it. Or carrying it in the party's line of sight. But this wasn't about that. This was about Laudna grabbing it's power to empower Delilah. And she knows what the party thinks about her. Her stealthy action makes sense, Orym's reaction makes sense.

But when the rest of them awoke and the darkness dropped, they see Orym attacking Laudna, seemingly for no reason. With Otohan's blade. And Laudna tries to play into it. She talks about how she sensed that the sword is cursed and was trying to save Orym from being corrupted and it would've made sense. If not for the fact that she could've just talked about it.

Look, Orym tells them why he took the sword, again, makes sense with his backstory. But like he did now, he would've agreed to put it down, get it checked if it were really cursed. He is not probably going to endanger himself if the others are concerned about it.

But he (and the others later on) repeatedly asks Laudna on why she needs it and she evades it. He points out how she hurt him to take it and she says it was accidental. It was. But she still doesn't give solid answers on why she needs it. Her reasoning changes quite a bit and not really makes sense.

And then she turns it on Orym. "I gave you a bruise accidentally but you gave me gashes." "It was on instinct." "Even I did it on instinct." No Laudna, Orym did it on instinct because you covered the place in Darkness. You cast the spell intentionally and hurt Orym, not on instinct. Accident, maybe. But definitely not on instinct. Lady, what do you expect a soldier who has been hurt and woke up in magical darkness to do apart from attack?

Ashton asking Laudna to apologise and willing to take her side was nice. And technically, everything could've been resolved with a talk. But she tries to escape, opens the windows and doors repeatedly as the talks are going on, as Orym does lay bare on why he needs the blade.

Which is another interesting talk. "Why do I need the help of some dark force" he asks, pointedly looking at her. And Laudna points out her gashes. I mean, ma'am, if you are going to fault Orym for taking another sword, which admittedly killed a lot of people, let me remind you that you were trying to take said sword to feed another dark force in you.

In the tension of the moment though, I find it funny Orym did mention about his deal but they don't get to unpack it at the moment because there is more serious shit going on here.

Anyway. I need both Orym and Laudna to stop feeling they don't have enough power to handle everything but at the same time they are partially right because most of the fights they have been in, they have either come close to losing someone or lost someone so I get it but still HAVE A TALK! I love how Laudna just resolves to act than talk but at the same time frustrated by it *sighs*

And then Fearne identifies it. Chetney Grim Psychometries it. And they find no sentience there. Cursed, maybe? But not sentient. And Laudna insists on swallowing it's power any way. I mean, like Imogen asked, it may be cursed then why do you want to take it? And the way she repeatedly asks "With the harness, right?"

I know I am going about the whole sequence of events back and forth but... As I said, I am trying to process through the fight, not pass judgement.

Chet saying it is Orym's sword and Laudna is not having it. Dorian coming in with him being done with objects having power over them is interesting because he just got out of a PVP, reminiscing about the crown and how silly it had been, talking about how it is about the person who wields it and not the item right after what went down with Opal...

And then Chet also brings up how much loss Orym has gone through with that particular sword and Laudna mentions not to talk about loss to her. Justifiably so tbh.

The thing here is, I agree, Laudna has lost a lot in her life. She lost her whole life in Whitestone, she was tortured, has died and lost her family and everything, started over with her killer in her head, guiding and giving her power, died again and now lost FCG.

But Orym, similarly, lost his life back in Zephrah. Maybe not his whole family but it was still his father and husband, lost his own life and then FCG. Laudna and Orym have lost people and their lives and have had to rebuild it in different ways. Period. Not comparable.

Before anyone says anything, I am not putting trauma in a scale or comparing here because everyone can react to trauma and have it hit them differently. But Orym has had the longest beef with Otohan out of any of them. Laudna can have her beef with Delilah for killing her but leans into her for power. So in a sense, Orym does have the edge here because while everyone does have a history with the blade, Orym has it for the longest.

But he still gives it to Laudna anyway when she insists for it. "Why do you care so much?" "Does anyone want to tell her why do I care so much?" Because Orym is also kinda fed up of repeating the same thing over and over again. He doesn't want revenge. He wants to protect. He is not giving up Seedling in exchange for the blade that killed his family but rather stick it up to Ludinus and rather end the history of the blade with him hopefully. And he repeats it over and over again and she is just stuck on sucking in the sword.

Until Chetney gives her the scream needle. And she runs off. And sucks the dagger in. Leaving a party split and woken in the middle of the night.

I saw some posts about how Laudna should face some consequences. And she should. This was kinda unprovoked in a sense. And maybe, Maybe Orym should've consulted the party because in terms of spoils, Ishta can be claimed as FCG's as he was the one who victored over Otohan but as I said, it could've been talked out and people didn't need to attack out of the start? There was a chance for the group as a whole to ask Orym about the decision to take the sword, talking about it. But they didn't.

Long things short, Orym has some valid points. Laudna has some valid points. Laudna went about things the wrong way if she wanted them to trust her. And the rest of the party let most things slide easily.

But Just such a juicy conflict. Now, I may I interpreted some things wrong, missed something here and there and I welcome any and all discussion in the rbs/comments. Thank you for reading through this thought process till the end.

Rasnak signing off :3

And for now, the stuff Laudna has sucked in to power Delilah:

The Crystal

Hunger of the Shadows Bor'Dor

Hunger of the Shadows the Willmaster

Scream Needle

And I think she does suck the power of something else but I forget

Just to end it.. FUCK YOU DELILAH!

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #messy thots #long post #I really have a lot of thoughts about this fight and I don't think I have it all down #orym of the air ashari #laudna #just the conflict #it has been a long time coming #to summarise #Laudna has some good points #she isn't completely wrong #She is kinda justified in her reaction #Just the way she went about it doesn't sit well with me #And comparing trauma isn't the way to go

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writingsofwesteros · 4 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/757969352629862401/taking-it-all

Oh you just know as soon as Ulf arrives at Dragonstone and starts leering and flirting with his wife, Jace would go MAD.

Just pretending she’s been on Dragonstone for a while now, it’s no surprise to anyone when she falls pregnant. Jace was on her like a rabbit, never failing to cause the maids to giggle. Rhaenyra was pleased since her line would be secured further, even if the news may cause discontent and anger amongst the greens. Many of Aemond’s actions so far had been in anger for the snatching of his betrothed and he still held hope that he would be able to rescue her and return her to his side. Rhaenyra would try and hide the news to bide the blacks some time, but their plans would falter when some of the dragonseeds that had attempted to claim the dragons returned to kings landing. Aemond would be furious and it’s what incites him to ask Helaena to ride Dreamfyre, hoping to burn Dragonstone down for his betrothed.

Ulf would see Jace’s wife (is she technically a princess now?) walking down the halls clad in a blood red gown, seemingly seeking someone out. He’s never been with a high born lady before and seizes his chance, calling her into the dining room. He thinks he’ll get lucky :) The sweet girl looks at him and responds to him kindly, never giving in to his perversions, though she softly scolds him to take his feet off the table. He’s laying it on thick when Jace walks in. If Ulf was smarter, he’d know that the glares Hugh gives him mean to stop.He’s not that smart though, and Hugh can only step back as Jace begins to rip into Ulf.

“How dare you talk to my wife like that? You think because you have been given the privilege of riding a dragon, that you can take what is not yours?”

Ulf would just be confused - who is this guy? Only once the conversation continues does Ulf realise the grave mistake he has made. He had heard stories in Kings Landing of the Prince who stole his uncles bride, who rode off with her on dragonback, brutally slaying those who tried to prevent him leaving. Jace is boiling with rage at the sight of Ulf’s eyes landing on his wife once again and raises his sword.

“Take your perverted gaze away from her,” Jace says loudly, before he stalks forward. Ulf has his back into the table when Jace whispers lowly, “You truly believe she would sully herself by fucking you? You could be the last man in Westeros and she still wouldn’t touch you. She will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and you-”, a quiet scoff escaping the Prince, “you may be a lowly knight allowed to escort our sons to their lessons.”

With that, Jace turns and walks back to his wife. Ulf rests against the table, expression gaping and heart beating rapidly. His eyes trail down to where Jace’s hand rests on the girl’s swelling belly, her gown having hid her pregnancy until she cupped the base of her stomach. She would have to be at least 5 moons along - exactly the amount of time she had resided on Dragonstone. The Prince begins to guide his wife out of the dining room, hands softly brushing across her back as she smiles widely at him and beginning to chatter to him. Ulf can only stare in shock as the Prince turns at the last moment to look over his shoulder, a smug smirk crossing his face.

(Jace would give her more jewellery every month that progresses, until each and every finger is covered in ruby and onyx rings. Nobody would ever mistake her for anything other than the future queen now)

we should all just marry Jace now thank you

Ulf is too funny, he really does not know when to stop running his mouth and Jace has no patience. Poor sweet Princess is too polite for her own good but is soon whisked away by her husband.

"Did you have to be so mean, my love.." She whispered when they were in the safety of their chambers. Jace was still annoyed as he placed his sword down.

"You are mine..he has to know that."

#taking it all

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euphreana · 4 months ago

Text

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 10: Fog

Masterpost

Ambrosius couldn’t move. He wanted to rub the itch in his eye, but something was holding him still. He cracked his eyes open slowly. An unfamiliar ceiling greeted him, followed by unfamiliar walls, and when he looked around, an unfamiliar bedroom - like his dorm, but devoid of personal belongings and even smaller.

He tried to move again, but in vain. The bed he was laying on had him strapped down.

“What… why…” he mumbled. His thoughts were slow and sluggish. He couldn’t remember why he was here.

Just then, the bedroom door opened and a man wearing scrubs stepped inside. He gave a friendly smile.

“Oh good, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Ambrosius heard himself mumble something about being unable to move.

“Let’s fix that.” The man walked over and started undoing the restraints holding him in place.

“Why… was I…”

“Just a precaution.” The man said, then helped him sit up.

Ambrosius finally got to rub the itch from his eye. It was then he noticed he was wearing a loose gray shirt and pants. That was odd - he didn't remember owning anything grey.

“What happened?” Ambrosius asked groggily.

“You don’t remember?”

“No…”

“Well it should come back to you once you get moving. Come on.”

The man walked Ambrosius out of the room and into a hallway, then down several other halls to what seemed to be an office. There was a friendly-looking woman behind the desk who offered him a comfortable chair across from her.

“What is this?” Ambrosius asked as he sat down. The man in scrubs remained standing behind him.

The woman smiled.

“You’re in the psychiatric ward. Just until we can be sure you aren’t a danger to yourself or others.”

Ambrosius blinked. His thoughts took a moment to register.

“But… I’m not crazy.”

“No Ambrosius, you’re not. But you’ve had a psychotic episode and we need to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

Ambrosius stared in confusion. The woman moved a holographic screen into her field of view.

“It says here that you tried to attack The Director, then continued to fight despite orders to stand down. Do you remember that?”

Ambrosius’s memory returned slowly, like a train crashing in slow motion.

“… The Director killed the queen.” He mumbled. “I was going to arrest her.” He felt like that should be a big deal, but at the moment he felt nothing.

The woman behind the desk typed something on a screen off to the side.

“What made you think The Director killed the queen?”

“She had Bal’s sword in her office. And a paper with the email on it.”

“Email?”

“The email she used to order the blaster sword. It was all there in the cabinet.” Cabinet? Or drawer? Why couldn’t he think clearly?

“It says here that you brought the sword with you into the office.”

“No… it was there the whole time. In a drawer. There was a secret button.”

The woman said nothing in reply. She just kept typing.

“I have other evidence she did it. Right…” He reached for his pocket, where the invoice would have been, only to remember he no longer had his clothes from before. The invoice was gone. His phone was gone. The packet of Bal’s ashes was gone. Ambrosius felt a burst of anxiety at the realization.

The woman spoke.

“You’ll get your things back when you leave.”

“But… that was my evidence.”

“What evidence?”

Ambrosius found himself reciting his day to the woman behind the desk. He told her about Meredith. He told her about Nimona. He told her about how he’d tried to save Ballister’s life the day before and failed. It all just tumbled out of him.

“I was so close to saving him…” Ambrosius mumbled, “But I wasn’t fast enough. And now he’s dead. And it’s all my fault.”

The woman stopped typing for the first time since he’d started talking.

“His death wasn’t your fault, Ambrosius. Ballister alone was responsible for his actions. The consequences were simply carried out.”

“… But he was innocent. I could have saved him.”

“He confessed to the murder himself.”

“That wasn’t him!” Ambrosius blurted out, lurching forward in frustration. He heard the man in scrubs shift his feet, as if ready to pounce.

The woman sighed.

“I know you want to believe he was innocent. I do too. But everyone saw him shoot the queen, and the confession was vetted. He was mentally ill. If we’d only caught it before all this happened, things would have been different.”

Ambrosius leaned back in his chair, jaw clenched, willing the tears in his eyes to go away. That couldn’t be right… Ballister had seemed fine before… hadn't he?

The woman continued.

“As for your pink friend - is she in the room with us now?”

Ambrosius blinked.

“No… she isn’t made-up. She was real. Someone else saw her too - a guy from the archives.” he held a hand up. “He was real too, I swear!”

The woman went back to typing. Ambrosius leaned forward desperately.

“Find Meredith Blitzmeyer - she saw Nimona!”

“This Meredith Blitzmeyer?” The woman pushed a screen between them with a scan of a document on it. It was a death certificate. With Meredith’s name. Cause of death: fire.

Ambrosius stared at the screen.

“That isn’t right… I saw her earlier today.”

“Ambrosius, she died the day before the knighting. You probably saw her name listed on the news.”

Ambrosius shook his head. “No… they got the wrong person. They had to have.”

There was a long silence while the woman continued to type at her computer. Finally, she sat back and looked at him.

“Hallucinated events aren’t an unheard-of occurrence. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and Ballister’s treason and execution were no doubt traumatic experiences for you. Sometimes when the mind can’t cope with its load, it creates its own reality. Nimona and Blitzmeyer were just that - a mentally easier explanation for why things went the way they did.”

Ambrosius wanted to protest that Nimona and Blitzmeyer hadn’t made things any easier, but the woman continued.

“I’m prescribing an antipsychotic and scheduling some talk therapy sessions. Let someone know if you see Nimona or Blitzmeyer again. Hopefully with time, you’ll be fit enough to return to duty.” When Ambrosius didn’t respond, she added, “We want to help you, Ambrosius.”

Ambrosius only stared at her in shocked silence. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t have imagined the entire day’s events. He wasn’t crazy… he wasn’t…

The man in scrubs placed a gentle yet firm hand on Ambrosius’s shoulder.

“Come on. I’ll show you back to your room.”

~ ~ ~

That evening passed in a blur. Ambrosius didn’t know what to think, once his head cleared and he could think. Nimona had to have been real - he’d reached out and touched her multiple times. And Meredith had jolted him with her electrified umbrella… unless he really was sick in the head like everyone was saying.

Dinner came, and along with it, the medication the woman behind the desk had ordered. Ambrosius didn’t want the pills, but the staff told him to take them if he wanted to be given any food. Reluctantly, he took them.

Everything seemed to slow down. His thoughts slowed again, along with his control of his hands and feet. Walking was slow. Eating was slow. Everything about him was slow, worse than how he’d felt when he’d woken up here. It seemed to have worn off when he woke up the next morning, but with breakfast came a new round of medication and the slowness that followed it.

Ambrosius asked for the invoice that he’d had in his pocket when he’d arrived. That would prove he hadn’t imagined the day with Nimona. The therapist he’d seen the day before told him there hadn’t been an invoice with him, just his phone and the ash packet. He could have them both back when he left, if he behaved. Ambrosius didn’t want to behave. He wanted to find proof that he was right.

He asked for someone to check the secret drawer in The Director’s office. He was sure it would be empty by now, but the fact that it existed would show he was onto something. The therapist didn’t humor him. She only wanted to talk about what subconscious triggers might have made him come up with the previous day’s events. Ambrosius didn’t want to talk about that, but after several sessions, her logic began to make sense. He shouldn’t have been allowed to go through the Arms & Hammer office without a warrant. He could have seen some other person try to bribe the Knightly Storage worker. The Director killing the queen was absurd. And a pink shape-shifter that had never been heard of before? None of it made sense.

Ambrosius didn’t want to believe he’d imagined his day with Nimona. He wanted her to be real. He wanted Ballister to be innocent. Scratch that - he wanted Ballister to be alive. Just wanting it wasn’t making it real though - at least, not in a way that the ward staff would acknowledge.

With nothing else he could do, Ambrosius buried himself in some old novels he found in the communal activity room. He didn’t have the mental energy to do anything else. The other psych ward residents got the cue that he wanted to be left alone, and so they did exactly that.

Ambrosius wished he had the packet of Bal’s ashes with him. That alone would have been some source of comfort amid all that turmoil he felt. Right now it was probably stashed in a plastic box somewhere, alone. Like he was.

The medication continued to be awful. Ambrosius tried skipping meals so he wouldn't have to face the orderly who handed out the pills, but she always caught up with him sooner or later, accompanied by a worker who looked like a bouncer.

Nimona didn’t appear again. The therapist said that was a good thing - it meant he was getting better. Ambrosius said it was because he'd been abandoned - it wasn't like she'd be coming to visit him, if she even knew where he was.

He did get a visitor though; Captain Ironwill, the superior officer who’d told him to take the day off after Bal had died. He was in uniform, but without armor. Somehow that put Ambrosius more at ease. They sat in the activity room, their meeting fully visible to the ward staff.

“How long are they going to keep me here?” Ambrosius asked, not caring who heard him.

“I don’t know.” Ironwill answered, “It depends on how well you’re recovering.”

“I feel fine.” Ambrosius lied.

“I hear you've been trying to get out of taking the medication.”

“Maybe I want to start seeing things again.” He said without thinking.

Ironwill didn’t laugh.

“Ambrosius, more than just your job is on the line. If we can’t prove you were mentally unstable when you attacked The Director, you could be imprisoned.”

Ambrosius stared. The news was like a bucket of ice water in his face. Imprisonment? Him? But… even if he got out, that would disqualify him from knighthood for his entire life! Being a knight was his lifelong goal - before he was born, he’d been destined to be a knight. Everyone in his family line had been. He didn’t know anything else he was good for.

Ambrosius looked down.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Cooperate with the staff. Take the medication. Get grief counseling so you don’t snap again.”

Ambrosius nodded slowly. Ironwill stood up to leave.

“I’ll tell them you’re working toward recovery. You do your part, and maybe they won’t decide you’re permanently unfit for duty. You’re important to the Kingdom, Ambrosius.”

“Captain?”

Ironwill glanced back at him. Ambrosius took a deep breath, working up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at him.

“The day of the execution… when you told me to take the next day off… did you see a pink cat in my room?”

Ironwill paused.

“There was a cat, but it wasn’t pink.”

Ambrosius grew quiet. Ironwill continued.

“Did you leave it locked in your room?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll have someone check. Anything else?”

Ambrosius shook his head.

Ironwill turned to go.

“May Gloreth make your recovery swift.”

A few seconds later, he was gone. Ambrosius sat at the table, lost in thought.

The cat wasn’t pink, he thought.

Nimona hadn’t been real.

Next chapter

#The End!#...or is it?#nimona #the shape of truth

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princesssarisa · 2 years ago

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If there's any character from Sleeping Beauty from whose viewpoint I might like to write a poem or short fic, it would be one of the four princes from Act I of Tchaikovsky's ballet.

Other, later retellings of the tale have also given Sleeping Beauty a suitor before she succumbs to the curse, but those princes are usually portrayed negatively, as silly fops in contrast to the charming prince who ultimately wakes her. The four suitors in the ballet, on the other hand, are perfectly nice, handsome, gallant young men. Aurora dances the famous Rose Adagio with them, and while she doesn't choose one of them to marry, she seems to like them well enough. Yet after sharing that beautiful moment of dance with her, with every reason to hope that one of them will soon be her bridegroom, they have to witness her fall under the spell.

Aurora's finger-pricking doesn't happen in a secluded tower in Tchaikovsky's ballet. The evil fairy Carabosse comes to her 16th birthday feast disguised as an old beggar woman, and (depending on the production) either gives her a drop spindle as a gift, which she takes naïvely because she's never seen one before, or gives her a bouquet of roses with a spindle hidden inside. Then she pricks her finger and collapses in front of the whole court and all the party guests, including the four princes. In some productions, one of the princes catches Aurora in his arms as she falls, and when Carabosse jubilantly reveals her identity, many productions have the four of them rush at her with their swords just before she vanishes. Then, after the Lilac Fairy arrives to assure everyone that Aurora is only sleeping, not dead, and to put the King and Queen and all the rest of the court to sleep too, in some productions it's the four princes who carry Aurora into the castle to her bed.

Even though Aurora doesn't fall in love with any of those princes, they still share something meaningful. When Aurora enters, her music and dancing is all childlike exuberance and innocence. But in the grand Rose Adagio – one of the most demanding showcases for a ballerina – she comes into her own both as a dancer and as a young woman receiving courtship for the first time. Arguably, the dance she shares with the four princes serves as her coming-of-age moment, which prepares her for her ultimate marriage to Prince Désiré/Florimund a hundred years later.

Yet there's no happy ending for those four young men. They have to watch Aurora succumb to the curse, fail to take down Carabosse, and then learn from the Lilac Fairy that Aurora is lost to them, destined to sleep until another prince finds her long after they're all dead. All they can do is reverently lay her to rest, then go back to their own lands, presumably to tell the rest of the world what happened.

I'd like to imagine that Prince Désiré/Florimund is the grandson or great-grandson of one of Aurora's four original suitors. A few other adaptations have the Prince who wakes Sleeping Beauty be descended from an earlier suitor of hers, so I'll imagine that's the case in the ballet too.

#sleeping beauty #fairy tale #ballet #the sleeping beauty #pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky #the four princes #supporting characters

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weemssapphic · 2 years ago

Text

Her Favorite Dance

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

This is basically a rewrite of the ball that Brienne’s father threw for her to find her a suitor except instead of Renly swooping in to save the day, it’s reader, because I need to rewrite canon to heal my heartbreak. I aged Brienne and reader around 16 years old here because it felt right and anything younger felt ~wrong~.

Not 10000% happy with how it turned out but that's just the way the cookie crumbles 🍪

Warnings: mentions of bullying

Words: ~2.2k

ao3 link in title

tags for those who may be interested: @afeatherformills @sapphicsbeloved @scumppa @zephyr-is-tired <3

The Sapphire Isle is buzzing with excitement. Tonight’s ball is thrown by Lord Selwyn Tarth on behalf of his only daughter, Brienne, in hopes of finding her a potential suitor. You are there as a family friend to the Tarth family, having grown up alongside Brienne as your father is one of Lord Tarth’s most trusted advisors.

The two of you had spent many summer afternoons by the sea, laying on your bellies as you listened to Brienne talk of becoming the first female knight of Westeros, of riding horses into battle and traveling the Seven Kingdoms. You love the glint in her eyes as she spoke, the smile that lit up her entire face. You’d watched from the sidelines as Brienne trained with Ser Goodwin, always cheering her on whenever she landed a hit.

Sword fighting is not for you - you are far too clumsy, and more comfortable in your role as a lady - but you’d always admired her for it. You know it’s an escape for her, that she’s desperate to prove herself in some way, having felt as though she failed as a lady for not meeting Westerosi beauty standards - though you don’t share her sentiments. You think she is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.

You love her sandy blonde hair, the way it falls onto her cheekbones and the way she brushes it back in irritation. You often find yourself wishing you could tuck it behind her ear for her, but then you would blush and chastise yourself at the thought. You love her cerulean eyes, expressive and kind, framed by soft, blonde lashes that flutter gently like the butterflies in your stomach anytime she smiles at you for a moment too long. You love her legs, far too long for any girl of your age but it doesn’t matter, you are entranced when you sit side by side and feel her thigh brush against yours. Most of all, you love her honor and loyalty. You love that she is still kind, even when so many are so unkind to her.

The ballroom of Evenfall Hall is decked out in an opulence tonight. Tapestries line the walls, the marble floors shine in the light of the fire blazing forth from dozens of torches, bathing the room in a warm, welcoming glow that bounces off the gilded hammerbeam roof.

Dozens of young lords from the Stormlands are lined up at one end of the room, dressed in their finest, talking amongst themselves in urgent, hushed tones. At once, the group of boys stop snickering and all stand a little taller, straightening their backs a little more, their heads turning towards the front of the room.

You crane your neck to see and sure enough, there she is, accompanied by her father. Brienne wears a dress today, a rare sight. The dress is a deep shade of blue, sapphire to match the waters of the famed Sapphire Isle, or perhaps to compliment her eyes (those eyes that you had gotten lost in more than once), you aren’t sure which.

It isn’t that Brienne doesn’t look beautiful in the dress. Oh no, you think she looks radiant. It hugs her slim frame in all the right places, accentuating her broad shoulders and sending a shiver down your spine. It’s more so that she looks a bit awkward, like a fawn taking its first steps, unsure of how to move about the world just yet. Her blonde hair is slicked back, away from her face, which gives prominence to the smooth, pale planes of her cheekbones and her soft jaw. She looks up to the group of suitors lined up for her, then gives her father a glance - you can tell she is nervous, you know her well enough.

She looks out to the crowd watching her and catches your eye. You wave, smiling brightly, hoping to help soothe her nerves. She smiles back then rolls her eyes slightly, as if to say “can you believe what they’re making me do?” You only grin wider and wink at her, enjoying the light blush that colors her cheeks.

Lord Tarth and Brienne reach the far end of the ballroom and, after a short speech from the former, the ball begins. A group of singers and lutists begin to play a lively tune and the mood is joyful and light. Wine is poured and the crowd moves fluidly across the dance floor, swept up in the grandeur of the evening.

Every so often, you catch a glimpse of Brienne, and with each glimpse you find it harder and harder to tear your eyes away. Her gangling figure moves across the dance floor with practiced perfection. She can dance, she was taught how to, as were you all as young girls. Her frame only makes it look a bit clumsy as she towers over the boys chosen as her potential suitors. You are captivated by each step of hers, finding yourself wishing it were your hands on her waist, your lips upon her ear, as each of the suitors leans in to whisper something to Brienne.

Brienne smiles giddily at their words and you wonder what they could be saying to elicit such a reaction, a strange, unfamiliar jealousy gnawing at your insides with every giggle she lets out, every blush that creeps across her cheeks. You see her father beaming down at her from where he sits, pride evident on his face and you suppose you should be happy for her, if she really were to find a suitable husband tonight. Brienne had spoken often enough about how she wished to make her father proud.

A commotion to your right brings you out of your sullen trance. You snap your head around and see the group of potential suitors, waiting for their turn to dance, huddled up, pushing at one another and snickering again as they had been before Brienne had arrived. You sneak up, curious, and hide behind a nearby marble pillar, attempting to eavesdrop on their whispered conversation, which is getting louder with every drop of wine they are consuming.

“Who’s next?” “I already had my turn with the great beast!” “You should go next.” “Do I have to?” “Oh come on, Brienne the Beauty is waiting!”

Your face is hot, heart pounding sharply in your chest. You step out into the open and prepare to cuss the boys out as you hear a sharp intake of breath next to you. Whirling around, you see Brienne standing behind you, mouth agape. It’s too late. She’s heard everything.

The boys burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh look,” says the one who has just finished his dance with her. “Is the great beauty going to cry?” Brienne takes off, her shoulder bumping roughly into yours as she rushes to exit the festivities.

You can’t help yourself. Before you realize what you’re doing, you feel your hand connect with the boy’s face, leaving behind a stinging sensation on your palm. You turn on your heel and rush after your friend, just in time to see the sapphire cloth of Brienne’s dress disappear around the corner.

By the time you catch up with her at the cliffs overlooking Shipbreaker Bay, you’re out of breath and panting. She stands at the edge of a cliff, looking out at the horizon, her back toward you. She is hugging herself, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, and you can see her shoulders quivering.

“Please leave,” she says harshly as gravel crunches under your feet in the quiet of the night, betraying your presence. You can hear the tears in her voice and it tears a fissure in your heart.

“Brienne, it’s me,” your voice is low, gentle, an olive branch that you pray she will accept.

“Oh.”

“I hit him,” you offer, coming up beside her and placing your hand on her arm. Brienne looks down at you, her sniffles stopping for a moment, brow furrowing.

“Why?”

You laugh, as if it’s the most absurd question you’ve ever heard, because it kind of is. “Because he was cruel to you. Because he deserved it. He actually deserves way more than that but I wanted to make sure you were alright first.”

Brienne looks at you in wonder, tears still welled up in her eyes. Her gaze is so intense it’s almost too much to bear - you’re afraid if she looks into your eyes for just a second longer, she’ll know all your secrets, that she’ll somehow find your love for her, laid bare right there for her to see, and so you break her gaze and look out over the water. Moonlight dances on the ripples of the waves, a light breeze sends a shiver down your spine.

“You looked happy tonight,” you whisper finally, unable to hide the trembling in your voice.

Silence, save for the lapping of the water on the cliffs below.

“It seemed like you were having a nice time. The suitors seemed really nice, until the end there.”

Brienne shudders next to you.

“Yes. I finally felt like I was making my father proud.” You could hear her voice wobble.

“I think he is proud of you, in his own way. I mean, I would be, anyway.” You say this last part quieter, hoping Brienne won’t hear you, but of course she does. You can feel her eyes upon you and you refuse to meet them, training your gaze on the starry skies above you.

“They talked of marrying me. Of whisking me away to their castles. I thought maybe I could finally be the daughter my father always wanted.”

“What about you though? Did you want them and their castles?” You can’t help the question from slipping through your lips.

You look up and watch as Brienne seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose I want to be wanted. Doesn’t everyone?” She hugs herself tightly again, hunching over slightly as if to make herself smaller.

You feel your heartbeat in your throat, and you hope desperately that Brienne cannot hear it. Your palms are sweaty, your head swimming. Your heart aches for her, you know how badly she wants to be loved, you’ve always known, and yet here you are, loving her and unable to tell her and so you think it instead. I want you, Brienne.

“What?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your stomach drops. Had you said that out loud?

Brienne’s wide eyes mirror your own. You had said it out loud. Fuck.

“I want you,” you whisper, stepping away from Brienne and gritting your teeth, steeling yourself for rejection.

Brienne’s arms drop to her side and she takes a careful step towards you. You have to crane your neck to look up at her, as she is standing directly over you now.

“You aren’t… making fun of me, are you?” Brienne asks wearily. Her eyes are guarded, her chin trembles. There are dried tear tracks running down her reddened cheeks and you suddenly feel your thumb twitch, wishing you could raise your hand to her face to wipe them away.

“Brienne…” a soft sigh escapes your lips, you reach out a hand and lace her fingers in your own. A blush blooms across your cheeks as you mull over your next words.

“I have long admired you, my oldest and fondest friend, you know this. Seeing you tonight…” your voice catches in your throat. Brienne watches you curiously, cheeks pink, blonde lashes fluttering lightly in the way you so desperately loved.

“You look beautiful.” You scratch at your neck, eyes darting to the ground. “I was terribly jealous of those stupid boys and their castles. I wished it could’ve been me, dancing with you. You know, in a way, I have always been yours.”

A low chuckle breaks the silence and your gaze snaps up to meet Brienne’s.

“And I have always been yours, Y/N,” she says, a smile finally tugging at the corners of her mouth.

You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“If that is so, then may I kiss you now, my lady?”

Brienne snorts at the formality, then finds herself nodding shyly.

You push yourself up onto your toes and tilt your head back and Brienne leans down, meeting you halfway to brush your lips together in a soft, chaste kiss. Her scent envelops you, fresh cut grass and the soap from the bath houses blending with the salty sea air, and no amount of pining over Brienne could have prepared you for this moment. For the feeling of finally coming home.

“Well since this is a ball, and it would be a shame for our gowns to go to waste, what do you say, Lady Brienne? Would you like to dance with me?” You grin up at her, giddy and lightheaded.

“There’s no one I’d rather dance with. I think this will be my favorite dance of the evening,” Brienne smiles widely and snakes her arm around your waist, allowing you to rest your head against her chest as you sway to a rhythm only the two of you can feel.

#brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #gwendoline christie #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #got #x reader

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20forty9 · 8 months ago

Text

I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter VI - Smiling At The Ground

Summary : Maheas is getting irritated from his lack of progress, meanwhile Venick is a natural at whatever she picks up in her hands. This time, he pushes things too far. A new player joins the game in your life! You find yourself getting attached to him very quickly. You share a moment of tenderness with Nanami and Haibara. Meanwhile, Gojo is haunted by nightmares.

Word Count : 7.8k

Contains : Vague representations/allusions of sexual abuse, disturbing imagery (?), gross scenes (descriptive vomiting), etc. Let me know if I missed anything

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Nanami Kento/Reader, Yu Haibara/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : Vomiting will become more of a theme throughout the story, sorry LMFAO. Thanks Ethel Cain and Elita for that I guess. Also, good golly gee a quote that isn’t inherently about curiousity?? Fourty are you feeling alright???? Also I’m not a swordmaster so I apologize for any inaccuracies on my uh. sword swinging or whatchamacallit. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I put sweat and tears into this chapter. Sorry it's a bit late! I had planned to post it Friday or yesterday but half the chapter got suddenly deleted out of nowhere so I had to rewrite it from my memory and notes.

All bleeding eventually stops. ~ Jeffrey M. Goller M.D.

More time passes by for the spirit, Maheas and Venick without much excitement. Days seem to blur into one, the repetitive schedule rarely being interrupted ever since the rumours about defectors turned out to be true. Security around the area became more tight, and the ever watchful eye of Suliman never truly disappeared; to avoid punishment, the spirit continued the training of the two kids without any delay.

It notices that they’re both improving their fighting capabilities quite well for such a short period of time – Venick especially. She has a natural aptitude for it, nearly immediately adapting to whatever weapon is given to her. Whether it can be attributed to her sheer will or the possibility of a technique, the spirit must admit she is talented. Though, even throughout all of this, her beloved bow is still her favourite weapon of choice. She doesn’t use it nearly as much as before, but it always lays in the grass with the rest of their belongings, not too far away from where they train.

However, Maheas is slower to adjust to different weapons and scenarios. And ever since he was able to land that blow on the spirit that particular night, he hasn’t been able to do it since then.

And unfortunately, he’s too aware of this fact. When he can’t get the weapon or scenario down correctly within the first hour, he considers it to be a complete failure, and gets incredibly irritated, then moves onto something else. Inevitably, the cycle continues, and the spirit notices that Maheas is stuck in a constant loop of anger and irritability.

It all comes to a breaking point on a sunny day – one of the last overbearingly warm days that fall has to offer before the refreshing cool permanently sets in for the upcoming months. The spirit is sweating profusely from having both kids attack it at once; an exercise for them to learn how to work together as a team instead of individually.

Venick and Maheas are both using a weapon neither of them have ever tried, but of course Venick is an absolute natural at using the katana, however the latter struggles to hold it properly. As Maheas brings his arms down to swing his weapon down, his grip on the handle wavers slightly, making it slip out of his hands and drop on the ground pathetically. The spirit notices, immediately moving out of the way to dodge the rest of his failed attack, quickly taking him by the arm and twisting it behind his back, pressing a knee against it and sending him into the ground face-first.

Dust and dirt kick up around them from the impact, but before either of them can catch their breath, Venick runs up from behind and tries to land a blow behind the spirit’s back. With ease, it rolls out of the way and watches as the young girl’s eyes widen, the katana still held high as it now targets Maheas. Her mouth opens widely in exclamation, her lips forming his name, and thankfully, his reaction time is fast enough for him to move his head by an inch right as the blade pierces into the grass, right next to his ear.

Both of them exhale in relief before Maheas suddenly kicks Venick in the stomach, making her drop down breathlessly on the ground next to him. He shouts obscenities, face going red with rage, raising his fists to punch her repeatedly like a madman. The spirit’s eyes widen, and it moves swiftly, arms wrapping around Maheas’ biceps and pulling him away from the poor girl. He kicks and flails around, going as far as to bite its right arm until his canines puncture its skin, drops of blood pooling and smearing across his lips and teeth.

Suliman’s men rush over to control the situation, one of them pulling Venick away from the spirit and Maheas as the others try to calm the young boy down.

“That’s enough!” One of them says, firmly grabbing him by the cheeks to make him look them in their cold eyes. “What are you doing?!”

Two other men pull the spirit away from the boy, each of them holding him by his arms as he continues thrashing against them.

“I’m so sick of this! Why can’t this fucking work?!” He cries, tears of indignation running down his cheeks. “I can’t get anywhere like this!”

He’s obsessed, the spirit thinks to itself. Nobody can learn so many different strategies in such a short span of time, Venick is just simply blessed – or cursed, depending on how someone views it. If anything, Maheas is still learning quickly; just not as quickly as he would like to.

Its thought process is interrupted by the familiar deep, royal colours of Suliman’s favourite robes appearing in the peripheral of its sight. Turning its head to look at her, she approaches the group with a frown donned on her face. Her cold, calculating eyes take in the scene before her, and the spirit ponders if this is the most emotion it has seen from her since it got here.

“What is going on here?” She asks them, her gaze locking onto Maheas, who instantly collects himself, straightening his back as he notices her attention on him. He can’t exactly meet her eyes, the look on his face bashful as he looks down at his feet.

“...I got angry, Madame,” he admits. With a wave of her hand, the two men holding his arms back let go, taking a step back as she walks over to the young boy. “And I took it out on Venick.”

“Dear boy, why would you do that?” Suliman scolds him lightly, the look on her face not quite replicating anger, but trying to. “Look at her, the poor girl is terrified.”

Admittedly, Venick is scared. She presses herself closer to the man who pulled her away, but as the spirit approaches her to offer some semblance of comfort, she launches herself into its arms.

Maheas’ eyes become slits as he glares at the girl, feeling the hot rage boil underneath his skin all over again. He clenches his fists, trying to keep his temperament under wraps. A snap of Suliman’s fingers brings his attention back to her.

“Answer me, why are you so angry?” She asks him once more.

“I– I’m not improving fast enough,” he replies, looking regretful. “But– but Venick just has to be perfect and everything! It’s so annoying! I hate her!”

He must be so used to getting everything handed to him on a silver platter, because no boy of his age should be acting that way or throwing a tantrum like this. And like always, Suliman gently places her hands down on his shoulders, her thumb rubbing comforting circles into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Like always, she’ll comfort him with her sugar-sweet words in that motherly way she does.

“I know, Maheas. You’re a failure,” she says. The spirit’s eyes widen slightly – it didn’t expect that. That crosses the line from being passive-aggressively disappointed into being genuinely cruel. “I’m truly disheartened by this.”

“Madame…?” The boy’s face becomes crestfallen, eyes glossy with unshed tears, skin becoming sickeningly pale. His lips press tightly together, chin trembling.

“But I can shape you into becoming something truly marvellous,” she continues, a small smile spreading across her painted lips. “Something people will fear. But for that, you have to work hard every second of the day.”

He looks at her hesitantly, but manages to muster a weak grin of his own. “...I– I won’t let you down.”

“No, you won’t,” Suliman says, her face immediately dropping to a neutral, far-away stare as she releases her hold on him, walking over to the spirit.

“Come with me,” she completely disregards the young girl still clinging to it. “We need to discuss some things.”

The spirit gives one last pat to Venick’s back, ushering her towards the man who had initially pulled her away from the scene earlier before walking away with the shaman. She walks it down along the gardens until they are a fair distance away from anyone who could listen in to their conversation.

“You’re not pushing him hard enough,” she starts as soon as they’re out of earshot. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?”

The spirit immediately shakes its head. Of course not.

“Then, tell me why you have had no success in making him use his abilities?”

“ Because that’s not the focus of their training. They have to learn how to work together and learn how to handle different weapons, ” it signs back. The sign language book that Suliman had given it had, unfortunately , proven to be incredibly useful. “If they want to get any further, that is how they will grow stronger.”

“I’m telling you now to change it. If I don’t see an improvement within the next week, I’m putting you back in that room,” she threatens, subtle glare hardening. The thought of being put back between those four white walls makes the spirit stiffen up. “You’re weak, you’re too afraid to push him any further. Don’t hold back. He needs to learn somehow.”

“ If we push him too far and too quickly, it could kill him. He’s still young.”

“He’s more resilient than you give him credit for, spirit,” Suliman’s eyes drift to where the two of them came from, in Maheas’ direction. “I’ve changed my mind. If I don’t see any changes within the next three days, I’ll put you back there.”

With that last warning, she shoos it away to go back to the kids, leaving her in the garden.

The spirit takes heed, a constant frown pulling at its face the following day as Venick and Maheas approach it with their things in tow. The girl keeps a fair distance away from the latter, anxiously looking over at him every five seconds. As soon as they put their belongings down on the grass, they hear a quick snap followed by a bright flicker of light as cyan flames approach them at rapid speeds. With quick thinking, Maheas and Venick dodge the attack by jumping in opposite directions, rolling down on the ground before getting back up and staring at the spirit, baffled.

“What the hell was that for?!” Maheas exclaims, raising his katana up.

“ Train, hard, ” the spirit signs back simply, knowing that both of the kids are just starting to learn sign language in their other classes.

“At least give us a warning!” Venick says, also raising her matching weapon in her arms.

Usually, the spirit would use its polearm so that the fighting could be more balanced, but Suliman’s threat nags away at the back of its mind — it refuses to go back into that room, no matter what. With another fast flick of its hands, more fire spews from its fingertips, targeting both of the kids. They have to evade the attack again, unused to being on defence.

“How are we supposed to fight against fire with swords ? ” Venick asks Maheas, bringing the blade up as a guise of protection.

“I don’t know…” Maheas’ anxious eyes are locked on the spirit, who stares back at them emotionlessly. “We just have to keep fighting.”

They prepare themselves to pounce, both of them launching at it at the same time, and the spirit easily sidesteps them, a wave of fire gusting around them all, throwing Venick and Maheas back without the flames touching them – just enough to feel the heat biting at their skin.

“ You have to synchronize together, or else I’ll be able to kick you back at the same time,” it signs to them. “ Get back up. ”

Maheas gets back up first, the frown on his face deepening. His chest puffs out, spreading his feet apart as he clenches his jaw so hard that a vein bulges in his neck. His eyes are wide and gaze unwavering as he rushes forward, the grip on his katana tight. He slashes at the spirit, sending it staggering backwards from the shock. He swings again, blade continuing to cut into the air haphazardly until it catches on the skin of the spirit, who suddenly feels hesitant to fight back. However, Maheas continues to attack it.

“Come on, fight back! Give me your all!” He says, and as the spirit’s eyes focus on his mouth to lip-read, that distracts it long enough for Maheas to bring out his katana’s blade down onto the arm of the spirit, imbedding itself into the meat of its forearm.

The only reason why its arm doesn’t end up completely chopped off is because he doesn’t put an incredible amount of strength into the blow, but out of instinct, the spirit rears back its other arm, harshly snapping its fingers to unleash a powerful blow straight at Maheas, violently throwing him backwards and rolling onto the ground, his body hiding behind a thick veil of steam.

Oh, fuck.

It immediately runs over to his crumpled form, waving the steam away to look at the damage. A large burn bubbles along the entirety of Maheas’ left forearm and neck, the skin red and raw. He clenches his teeth, and as the spirit gathers the young boy into its arms to check over any other damage, it feels him vibrate underneath its palms – it realizes he’s screaming in pain through his clenched teeth. Maheas clutches his arm in agony, foot stomping on the ground aggressively to distract himself from the pain.

Completely focused on tending to the injured boy, the spirit completely forgets about Venick, who had been disregarded when Maheas tried to attack it. It isn’t until it feels a large slash against its back, so utterly excruciating that it immediately lets go of Maheas from the shock, feeling slash after intense slash against its back. It presses a foot against the ground, launching itself out of the way before another attack can hit it.

Weakly looking back, its eyes lock onto an enraged Venick – a long whip made of pure cursed energy held tightly in her hand, knuckles turning white from her grip around the handle.

“Get away from him!” She exclaims, preparing to rear the weapon back once more.

The spirit raises its arms, hands splayed out in front of it to show it wasn’t going to hurt him. The commotion attracts the men standing guard near the greenhouse, one of them followed by Suliman.

Her eyes actually widen as they land on the young girl, then move onto the injured boy until she locks eyes with the spirit, whose arms wrap around itself tightly to let its hands grasp at its back, trying to relieve the pain.

“You did it…” Suliman mutters as she looks at Venick. The second the raven-haired girl realizes all focus is on her, the whip dissipates into nothing as she seems to retreat in on herself. “Girl, you’ve done it.”

“D– done what? Did I do something wrong?” She stutters, hands coming up to her chest to curl in further.

“No, not at all, dear girl,” the platinum blonde replies, the smile on her face reaching the tip of her ears.

Suliman walks over to her, a hand coming up to delicately stroke her hair. The spirit feels disgusted seeing the sickly-sweet affection in the older woman’s eyes.

“You’ve just discovered your curse technique, darling.”

As Suliman continues doting on Venick, the spirit’s eyes drift over to Maheas, who looks at the two from his spot on the ground, still clutching at his arm, with pure hatred in his glare.

If looks could kill, Venick would be a dead girl standing.

You're woken up by your phone buzzing underneath your pillow, violently vibrating against the sheets. The skin of your arms is uncomfortably itchy, having forgotten to take off your bandages the previous night before you passed out in bed. Soundlessly grumbling to yourself, you squint your eyes as you flip the phone open, staring back at the screen. It’s a Saturday, who the hell is waking you up at the ungodly hour of…

Oh. One in the afternoon.

Not so ungodly, after all.

Yaga’s name greets you on the screen, followed by a sunglasses emoji.

- Are you busy tosda [Sent 12:47pm] - *Today [Sent 12:48pm] - ? [Sent 12:49pm]

[One missed call from Yaga.] [1:03pm]

Your fingers move lazily across the small keyboard, the sleep in your eyes still clouding your vision.

- No :P Why

It only takes a few minutes until your door suddenly swings open – you’re certain you locked that last night, by the way – revealing Yaga in his usual workout clothes, minus his sunglasses.

“ Good, you’re up, ” he signs, hands going to his hips.

You don't bother signing in return, simply waving him off and shoving your face back into the pillow. You feel the floor shake as heavy stomps cross the floorboards until the bright afternoon sunlight hits your eyes again, the pillow held high above the teacher’s head as he holds it out of your reach.

“ Nooo…” you mouth, trying to give your best puppy eyes to Yaga.

“I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

“ Can’t this wait? ” You sign, hands moving slowly from how tired you are as you squint at him.

“You’ve been in bed long enough,” he chastises you. He then proceeds to wrap the duvet around you, effectively cocooning you, before he grabs your legs and drags you out of bed.

Your reaction is instantaneous – you claw at the ground, trying to thrash your body back and forth, but all you look like is a dying worm on the pavement when the sun finally hits after a long rainstorm. You try slapping at Yaga’s hands but can’t even manage to reach them, and you try one last ditch effort to escape which proves to be fruitless.

“Nothing you do will make me let go,” Yaga turns his head to address you, mirth swirling in his eyes.

Exasperated, you sigh out deeply and completely let your body go slack as the teacher continues to drag you outside of your dorm room and down the hall. As you walk past the communal kitchen, you feel dread run through your body as you realize there are people already in there.

“Good morning, sen–” Nanami and Haibara’s mouths both close shut as they look at the scene in front of them. The blonde has a cup of coffee held in his hand, halfway up to his mouth but his body is frozen as his lips subtly quirk up. Haibara is sitting at the table with a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, a shocked look on his face.

You look back at them in disdain as Yaga greets them normally, as if he doesn’t have a person wrapped in a duvet-burrito.

“Um, w– what’s going on there?” Haibara asks, tilting his head quizzically, but he looks one step away from blowing up into laughter.

“ S.O.S, S.O.S ,” you sign repeatedly, eyes wide as you give them a terrified expression.

“Ignore them,” is all Yaga says.

“ I’m being K.I.D.N.A.P.P.E.D,” you continue to look at them desperately, going as far as to mouth the words.

“They’re a drama queen, did I forget to mention?”

Yaga is about to continue trudging forward but is met with the doorway being blocked by three familiar bodies. You cringe, jaw clenching tightly as you bang your head against the floor to try and end your misery.

Shoko leans to the side, peering past her sensei and giving you a good once-over before she bursts out laughing, immediately pulling out her phone to snap a picture while her shoulders violently shake from laughter. Gojo and Geto both follow along, looking incredibly amused.

“ That counts as blackmail! Put that fucking phone down,” you glare at her halfheartedly, signing aggressively even though you know she can’t understand you.

“Language, please,” the teacher speaks up.

“ Are you guys seriously going to let him kidnap me like this in broad daylight?”

“I really wish I knew sign language right now,” Geto admits, a wide grin spread across his face.

“They’re saying how much they love this, it’s their favourite pastime, they aren't being kidnapped and this is all of their own volition. Also, they think you’re my most annoying students,” Yaga says, before slowly dragging you away as he walks backwards.

“ I’ll remember this. I’ll remember this betrayal for the rest of my life,” you flip the group of students off, who watch and continue to laugh at you, except for Haibara who dramatically reaches out, fake tears streaming down his face.

“Don’t worry!” He exclaims your name. “I’ll find you when you’re back!”

You continue to glare at them until you and Yaga turn a corner, finally disappearing from view. The teacher continues to drag you until you arrive at the front door of the dormitories, finally letting you go. You quickly scramble to your feet, dusting yourself off and watching as the teacher lets your duvet drop to the ground pathetically.

“ Was that really necessary?” You sign to him, not bothering to pick it up – you’ll wash it when you come back from wherever Yaga is taking you to.

“ Absolutely . ” He nods in reply. “You would’ve taken an entire hour to get ready, and I want you to meet him as soon as possible.”

You relent, sighing dramatically as you follow behind Yaga as you both walk through campus until you go down the large flight of stairs, the teacher’s car waiting for you at the bottom.

“ Oh my god, you really are kidnapping me, aren’t you?” You tease him, comically widening your eyes.

“Put those hands down and get in the car, will you?” He replies, arching an eyebrow.

Raising your hands up in surrender, you get in the passenger seat while Yaga gets in the driver's seat. The car starts up not long after, and you set off, weaving through the streets of the city. Eventually, the car pulls up to a familiar building.

“ Why are we at your house?”

Yaga doesn’t reply, simply turning the engine off before stepping out to unlock the front door. You follow obediently, going on your tiptoes to peer over the taller man’s shoulder curiously, trying to take a peek at whoever he wants you to meet. Yaga ushers you inside quickly, locking the door behind you. You take your shoes off, leaving them on the rack near the doorway.

Once upon a time, with a fresh slash across your face and matted hair, this was where you stayed until he moved you to campus.

He doesn’t bother turning the lights on, instead leading you to another room. The door is shut, and there are colourful stickers randomly littered near the bottom of it, making you wonder why they were stuck on there, of all places. Your questions are soon answered as Yaga swings the door open, revealing a brightly-lit room with its blinds drawn back.

A… baby panda?

Said animal turns to look at you both, tilting its head in curiosity. It wears a baby diaper, with a toy train held in its paws. Upon further inspection, there are multiple toys scattered around the room with a comfortable-looking twin bed pressed in the corner.

The cub speaks. You can clearly see it move its lips, but its fur is so thick it’s hard to read its lips. Your eyes widen, but you can feel a smile spreading across your face before you can stop it. It’s so cute!

“Panda, this is…” Yaga slowly introduces your name to the panda. Then, he addresses you. “This is Panda, he’s…” he hesitates, but looks between the both of you and at the starry expression on your face. “Well, to put it simply, an Abrupt-Mutation Cursed Corpse.”

Your eyebrows raise up in surprise, pointing to Panda. “ You created a mutated corpse? ”

Yaga’s hands immediately go to grasp your shoulders, looking you dead in the eye.

“I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone. If word gets out, I could be killed for this.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Who would I even tell? The higher-ups? I’m sure they would definitely trust me.”

“Good point. Sorry– I’m just so worried about this. I only want to give him the best, he’s my first successful mutation.”

You nod your head in understanding. “I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

Yaga’s attention is back on the baby animal, and they talk amongst themselves. You look over the teacher’s shoulder, waving at Panda with a smile. The latter raises his paw and mimics you in reply. Oh god, cuteness aggression is real, you think to yourself, having to turn away before you let the urge to squeeze the cub in your arms take over.

A hand to your shoulder makes you turn back, and Yaga makes you crouch next to him to face the panda properly.

“Would you mind introducing yourself to him in sign language?” He asks, telling Panda to pay close attention.

“ It’s nice to meet you, Panda, ” you sign slowly, followed by spelling your name, fingers carefully shaping the words, repeating both Panda’s name and your own.

“That is sign language,” Yaga explains to the young one. “You’ll be learning it.”

Panda’s mouth moves again as he nods his head before giving you a full grin, shiny white fangs on display and all.

“Eventually, I want to train him properly, but for now he has to remain here. If the higher-ups discover him, my career is over – and my life too, most likely,” the teacher turns to face you as he speaks. “But I’m worried he’s lonely when I’m not here, even with the babysitter. I’ve already attached a new set of keys to your keychain, so if you have the chance… would you mind dropping by sometime?”

You nod your head enthusiastically, which makes Yaga quickly pat your shoulder appreciatively.

You both look back at Panda, who continues playing with his toys. You feel a sense of calm wash over you, and you situate yourself on the floor more comfortably, raising one of the toys to make playful chomping gestures at Panda’s cheeks, who’s shoulders shake as he laughs in glee.

Unbeknownst to you, Yaga takes a quick picture of the two of you in your own world, a real smile playing upon his lips.

You walk all the way back to the school, still dressed in your pyjamas. People send you odd looks as you stuff your hands into your sweatpants, a frown and pout on your face. Yaga sent you back on your own, claiming that you needed more fresh air and to enjoy the sunny day outside. All you really wanted to do was lay in bed all day and let your sore body recuperate for the upcoming week.

As you trudge your body up the unending flight of stairs that lead back to the school, you are greeted with the sight of Nanami and Haibara talking amongst themselves, sitting across from each other at a picnic table with a bunch of snacks set up on the surface. The trees above them provide a nice canopy of shade, protecting them from the harsh glare of the sun.

Haibara’s brown eyes suddenly lock onto your own, and they light up upon seeing you. He enthusiastically waves you over, apparently yelling your name so loudly that Nanami grabs his arm, making a shushing motion at him.

“Hi!” He greets you with a wide smile upon his lips. “You made it back alive!”

“ No thanks to you, ” you sign in return, though it’s all meant lightheartedly.

The brunette immediately pouts. “Sorry, I don’t really know what you said besides ‘ no’ and ‘ you ’.”

You give him a light smile. “ It’s okay.”

Haibara proceeds to pat the empty seat on the bench next to him, motioning at you to sit down. “You should join us! We’re having lunch now.” Nanami looks like he’s about to contradict him, a small blush forming on the tips of his ears, but he concedes, nodding along.

Apprehensive, you take a seat next to the brunette, signing a quick thank you in reply. Your bed is calling you right now, but there’s no harm in hanging out with the two men, either.

“What did sensei want with you, anyway?” Haibara asks before taking a bite out of one of the small triangle sandwiches.

Keep Panda a secret, Yaga’s words pop up in your head. Keep Panda safe.

“ Nothing important,” you reply.

“I think that’s… ‘ nothing’, right?” Nanami asks, immediately turning to rummage through his bag, pulling out a sign language dictionary. Your eyes widen slightly in delight, a small quiet laugh bursting past your lips. The blonde replicates the motion you made previously, palms facing you and Haibara before turning them to himself. You nod in reply, smiling.

“He’s learning pretty quickly,” the brunette says, offering a sandwich to you, who takes it from his hand, proceeding to munch away on it gratefully. “I have to admit it’s a lot for me to learn. I’m still stuck on finger-spelling.”

“To be honest, me too,” Nanami admits, flitting through the pages of the dictionary. “Would you mind telling me if I’m signing my name right?”

You shake your head back and forth, eyes locked onto his hands as he moves them to sign his name as accurately as possible. He stumbles over the motions slightly, but it is still understandable for you, albeit a bit awkward to follow along. You give the blonde an ‘ok’ sign before you wipe your hands on your pants, proceeding to lean over the table to gently grasp Nanami’s hands into your own and moving his fingers into the correct position.

“ There, ” You mouth to him as you move them back and forth to help him memorize. “ Na-na-mi.”

“I… see,” he replies, whole face flushing light pink. You quickly sit back down properly, grabbing a cookie, completely oblivious to the other man’s embarrassment.

You see Gojo and Geto approaching the table before they can greet your group properly. You wave at them with a smile on your face, and the raven-haired man returns it with a tired one of his own.

“What’s going on over here?” Gojo asks as he reaches you all, leaning over Nanami’s shoulder. The latter is already frowning in disdain, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else but there. “ Ooh, sign language, huh?”

“They’re just showing us how to sign Nanamin’s name,” Haibara says, eyes starry as his eyes are locked on Geto.

“Cool. Anyways, we were wonderi–”

“Ohh, wait, show me how to sign my name!” Haibara interrupts him, shaking your shoulder back and forth to grab your attention. He completely ignores Gojo’s glare sent his way, attentively watching as you happily demonstrate it to him. The two of you go back and forth for a few minutes until he finally grasps it well enough.

After your small lesson, the brunette turns back to his peers. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Uh,” Gojo looks awkward as he looks at the ground for a split-second before he gazes at you through his sunglasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose absentmindedly. “We were wondering if you were going to… train with us today.”

You look at them quizzically, eyebrows furrowed. Since when did you train together on weekends?

Not that you’re against it, but–

You look at the snacks on the table, then to Haibara and Nanami, who look at you almost expectantly. Well, you were already here, and they seemed to want to learn more sign language, so…

You shrug your shoulders in reply, shaking your head back and forth.

“Are you sure?” Geto asks – he seems disappointed.

You sign an apology, sending him a nervous smile. “They offered me food. Plus, I would feel bad if I left them now because they want to learn sign language.”

“Alright. See you on Monday, then,” Gojo says rather abruptly, lips pressed tightly together. “C’mon, Suguru.”

You wave goodbye to them, which only Geto returns. It takes a moment for Gojo’s words to finally register in your mind. Wait, did he–?

“That was weird,” Haibara says after an awkward pause. “Gojo was acting strange.”

“When is he not?” Nanami asks rhetorically, still looking bothered. “He has a talent at butting his head into our business.”

“Yeah, but not like that. Eh, whatever, it’s not that important,” the brunette eventually goes back to his food. After finishing off his own plate, he seems to pause halfway while brushing the crumbs away from his mouth with his thumb. He turns to you, who still continues to stare at where the men were once standing. He gently taps your shoulder which makes you snap your head to look at him.

You tilt your head to the side in question, shaking your index finger back and forth. “ What is it? ”

“Say, I forgot to ask. When’s your birthday?” Haibara asks. “I hope we haven’t missed it…”

You look at him blankly for a moment before giving him a shrug. Honestly, you don't remember the moment you appeared into existence. You were just… created, simply put. One second, you weren't, then you were. There were no big explosions or festivities, unless you counted the people who used to worship you, although that was centuries ago.

Haibara looks utterly offended on your behalf. “Are you telling me you don’t know or you don’t have one?”

“The second one. ”

“Nanami, we can’t have this!” He turns to the blonde, who doesn’t seem too surprised himself. “We’ll give you a birthday then.”

“Are you sure that’s appropriate?” Nanami asks, looking over at you, unsure.

“ I’m sure it’s fine.”

Haibara catches his chin between his forefinger and thumb, looking dead ahead of him, eyes becoming unfocused. Wow, he’s seriously thinking hard about this. You and Nanami share a look, the latter shaking his head back and forth, exasperated. It takes a few moments until Haibara snaps out of it suddenly, looking as if he’s been illuminated.

“I got it!” He says, eyes sparkling from how excited he is. “October thirty-first!”

“Okay, that definitely can’t be appropriate.”

You just stare at them, absolutely confused. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a curse, right? Those cursed energy levels coming from you are off the charts, more than any normal human being. Either that, or you’re cursed,” oh, so close, you wince. “But a curse is technically a spirit, right? And spirits are technically ghosts! It’s fitting, isn’t it?”

In any other world, you would love to jump in joy – Haibara was so close to actually understanding what you are. You wish they could understand sign language or that you had your notebook to write in so you could actually explain the situation. However, decades of being dismissed and treated as less than others render you exhausted. There’s no point trying to justify yourself if Haibara is dead set on believing that you are a curse. If that’s how he sees you, then so be it.

Instead, you steels your nerves, simply giving him a curt nod of your head. That’s perfect.

Haibara and Nanami smile warmly at you.

“October thirty-first it is,” the blonde says, going back to flipping through his book, the smile still plastered on his lips.

As you all finish your food in silence, you let your gaze wander up, peering at the sun through the leaves of the trees that create a canopy above your group. You grin to yourself, feeling a sense of satisfaction bloom within you.

The kindest gift that you have received. A day of celebration for you.

A celebration of life for a dead man walking.

Lately, Satoru dreams of you.

When he off-handedly told Suguru about it the first time it happened, the latter barked out a sharp laugh and asked him, “What, like a wet dream?”

He finds himself wishing it were.

At this point, Satoru would take that over whatever has actually been happening when he falls asleep.

It starts off inconspicuously enough – when he drifts off, the next thing he knows, he’s standing in the middle of a road out in the countryside. He can’t actually pinpoint whether it’s a real location that he’s seen before or not, but the endless amount of wheat fields that lay to his right seem properly tended to. To his left, there’s a forest that goes on endlessly, thick fog permeating from it. It’s always pitch-black outside, and he’d like to assume it’s the witching hour, but something at the back of his mind tells him that’s not right. The shadows unnaturally stretch for miles across the road.

There’s always a certain itch crawling along his skin, as if he’s being observed. But every time he looks over his shoulder, he is utterly alone. There are no other signs of life – no birds chirping, no cars driving down the gravel road, no farmers tending to the fields or horses gallivanting around behind the wooden fence. He can’t even hear the gravel crunching underneath his shoes. He doesn’t feel safe here.

Satoru desperately wants to wake up, but something isn’t letting him.

Eventually, his alarm clock will shock him awake, pulling him from the impossibly deep sleep he was in. And every time, the day starts then comes to an end, and after a long day of hard work and training, he has to let his mind and body rest, so he goes to sleep. And every time, he is always greeted with that same dream.

As the weeks pass by, the recurring dream becomes more and more specific.

This time, after standing in the same place for what feels like an eternity, his feet absentmindedly carry him forwards down the road, eyes snapping to every dark corner as the sense of unease grows and grows and grows. He feels a shiver run down his spine when he hears deep, breathless breathing right in his ear, as if someone is overexerting themselves next to him, body desperately pressed up against his own. His head snaps to the side, but there’s nobody there.

Every muscle of his body tenses up, the hair on his arms raising. He feels his eyes sinking into their eye sockets, wide with fear. The Gojo clan does not fear anything , he hears the voice of his father tell his younger self after a thunderstorm that left him shaking like a leaf.

The breathing is not his own, Satoru knows this for a fact. His hands are pressed up against his mouth and nose as he tries to take deep, quiet breaths, his heart clenching and making nausea tumble around in his stomach.

The scenery stays exactly the same as usual – not a single thing changes, except for the varying height of the wheat fields. After another indiscernible amount of time, there’s a break in between the fields; a small church, made of old wood with its white paint chipping off, slightly elevated from the road. It almost resembles a backyard shack. The windows and front door are boarded up with thick panels, with weeds and vines growing along some cracks. It’s obviously been unoccupied for years, if not decades.

Satoru’s blood runs cold as his eyes adjust to the dark even further, noticing a body laying on the cement steps leading up to the front door of the small building. The person is surrounded by small asphodels growing from the cracks in the cement, the small white petals a stark contrast to the darkness that envelops this dream. He keeps his eyes down– down, so he can at least pretend that the person is sleeping.

The dark liquid surrounding them seems to scream otherwise.

The stranger’s body resting on the stairs is positioned on their knees, stomach down, their head resting against the hard concrete and facing his way.

He stays a fair distance away, but Satoru feels even more sick once he realizes that the body isn't just a stranger, after all.

It's you .

The unmistakable colour of your hair is splayed along the steps, mismatched eyes looking more faded and dead than ever before. Suddenly, the smell hits Satoru’s nostrils, making him gag. The stench of rot fills the air around him, unescapable. Not even the sweet, honeysuckle scent of the asphodels can cover it up. The fragrances mix together, producing something that just smells wrong.

Against his better judgement, his feet stay firmly planted in place; something tells him that he can’t leave your body here.

The sound of flies buzzing around your dead body becomes more obvious once he takes a few steps forward, but he halts immediately once he sees a shadow spreading, moving from the darkness that it casts along the cracks in the road, moving unnaturally; detached from reality. It stretches up, up, up , becoming more human-like until Satoru’s eyes can see the individual pair of arms and legs standing over your body. The rest of its features are muted – it’s just a shadow, after all.

It’s just a shadow, right?

Right?

Its hands reach out to brush the hair away from your face, and Satoru feels his body fill with disgust, but he doesn’t know why. His six eyes seem to tune into something that his mind refuses to process. His mouth opens to tell it off, to get it away from you, but nothing comes out; the words get stuck in his throat, as if it is impossible for him to make any noise.

The shadow fades in and out as it hunches over you, getting closer and closer to your ear, and the heavy breathing in Satoru’s ear only grows in volume. This feels wrong on so many levels. It feels like an imaginary hand is wrapping around his throat, cutting off his ability to breathe in properly as his eyes are completely fixated on the scene before him. His heart pounds against his ribcage, and it feels like it’s about to leap out of his body.

The shadow’s fading hand gently strokes your cheek in a comforting manner, its head brushing right against your ear. At that exact moment, uncontrollable warped words play backwards in Satoru’s head, putting the devil’s tongue to shame. He can’t tell anything apart, as if his brain is melting. None of the sentences make sense, the voice sounding anything but human, layered over itself, and the words meld together in a messy tangle.

“ You… poor thing…” The single sentence that is finally managed to be unravelled, making his body run ice cold.

The buzzing of the flies is suddenly so overwhelming, becoming the only noise that Satoru can hear – he finds himself thankful for a moment, finally being spared of the voice that sounds like iron dragging against concrete, but he realizes that it’s him waking up. His body becomes weightless, but his arms immediately reach out, hands grasping at nothing as he tries to claw through the air to your body.

“ WAIT! ” He finally manages to shout, followed by desperately screaming your name, feeling his throat go raw. The flies are starting to surround his body, trying to take him away from his dead body lying along the stairs – but then his dream finally allows his eyes to focus on them, and they’re not flies.

It’s hundreds of paper birds, ones that he used to see when he read children’s fairytale books. They’re semi-humanoid paper creatures, off-white in colour with a round circle as their head, with rectangular wings sticking out, and the rest of their figure angling inwards, turning into a sharp, acute point, forming a pointed tail. A representation of the body and mind of something that shouldn’t exist.

“Wait, WAIT! Please!” He shouts your name again in distress.

He’s not sure what he’s begging for, but he manages to push through the paper birds just enough to put his entire strength to take a few steps forward. I’m the strongest, he repeats to himself over and over again. I should be able to rip these things apart. Just when his hands brush against your shoulder, the birds seem to multiply in numbers, the buzzing turning into intense static ringing through his head. I’m the strongest , he thinks again. I’m the strongest.

“ Let me go !” He screams over the sound of the buzzing, swatting a paper bird away from his face, but it doesn’t stop others from flying into his ears, up his nostrils and into his mouth, making him gag and choke. He feels them move violently under his skin, making his cheeks burn as he feels them slash and break it, blood drip- dripping down his chin slowly and smearing across his face from the chaos.

Satoru’s hand manages to clasp around your bicep, but it’s too late. The swarm manages to break his hold on you as they take the white-haired man’s breath away, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his grip on the nightmare slipping. The imagery fades, the looming shadow being the last thing he can clearly make out as the overwhelming sound of paper birds turns into the familiar one of his alarm clock going off.

Satoru’s body jolts away, cold sweating spread all across his body, his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. His hand immediately slams down on the alarm so violently that it smashes into pieces, but the urge to purge the contents of his stomach overshadows the dull pain throbbing in his hand.

He runs to the washroom, nearly tripping over his legs before spewing everything up into the toilet. The nausea hits him more intensely as he feels the chunks of food creep up his throat, the acidic taste of bile overwhelming his taste buds and the intense smell invading his nostrils. His back heaves from the force of it, muscles tensing up tightly. His sweaty forehead presses against the porcelain seat as he tries to catch his breath, thick spit pooling from his lips and onto the cold bathroom floor. Once he feels stable enough, he raises himself on shaky legs, going to the small sink to rinse his mouth. As he bends down to drink the water pooling in his hands and swish it around in his mouth, his mind can’t help but remind him of the intense buzzing of the swarm of paper birds, almost as if they’re really there with him in the waking world.

He reassures himself that it was just an incredibly vivid dream, that absolutely nothing can go wrong in the waking world. He is safe, and you are alive and well, probably already waiting with Shoko for him and Suguru to show up to class. It was simply a nightmare , nothing more, and nothing less.

After rinsing his mouth properly, he raises his head, his muscles becoming impossibly stiff.

The buzzing returns tenfold.

The hand around his neck is back.

The voice speaking in tongues is distant, but definitely there.

And a familiar shadow looms behind him.

#jjk x reader #cross posted on ao3 #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #haibara yu x y/n #haibara yu x you #haibara yu x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk x male reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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imaginethezeldaverse · 1 year ago

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A little Zelink drabble - Tears of the Kingdom Spoilers mentioned! Also just want to say as a disclaimer I haven’t finished the game yet if this doesn’t feel 100% accurate, my apologies! I just wanted to write something Zelink today lol.

------- Looking down at her cup, Zelda watched the swirls of fresh Hateno milk mix and lighten the original darker hue of her black tea. Milk and two sugars, exactly how she liked it. Her gaze shifted to the window, the sky boundless and blue in its vast stretch across the world. She almost wished she could remember basking in it the way she had. “Link,” the princess called softly to her knight, who was pouring himself his own cup of tea. He looked up, cerulean hues moving away from the teapot and onto her. Zelda turned toward him wearing an almost wistful, but curious expression. “What was I like when I was a dragon?” The hero thought for a moment. So many memories he had of her in her temporarily immortal state. He remembered pulling the Master Sword from her head, the realization of who the Light Dragon truly hitting him square in the heart. Knowing the cost of her sacrifice held like a constant weight on him. He also remembered feeling light as a feather, laying in her golden mane as she traversed the skies; he remembered promising to get her back. Link realized his face must’ve read something sad when Zelda asked, “Not good...?” He straightened up, fixing his face to smile instead, “Big and scaly, that’s for sure.” Zelda giggled at that, “I’m sure, of course.” Link sat at the table with her and reached for the sugar, “You were always warm. I’ve ridden the other dragons before to grab scales and stuff, and I mean... they were always,” his eyes wandered as he tried to find his words, “Not cold, I guess - except for Naydra, he’s constantly freezing, but you - you were always pleasantly warm.” Stirring the sugar in his tea, he continued, “Your scales were always so pretty, they shimmered in the light, just like your mane did...” suddenly his spoon came to a stop. Zelda caught the wisps of sorrow that flashed across his eyes for a split second, “...But your eyes always looked sad. Even though they were this crazy shade of violet and you had these giant golden lashes...there was this sadness in them that I just couldn’t shake seeing.” Locking eyes with Zelda, Link felt a pang of hurt in his chest, the memory of her transformation still fresh in his mind, “I didn’t like seeing you so sad.” The princess’s lip trembled at her hero’s softened voice, though her memory failed her of her time as the light dragon, she understood the impact it had on all those involved: especially Link. Without a word, she reached her hand out to cover his, her doleful smile willing to offer him some comfort, “I’m not sad anymore, Link.” Like a reflex, he flipped his palm to turn upright, his rougher fingers curling around hers. He took a deep breath, really allowing the warmth of her hand to register with him. Slowly, he matched her smile, “I hope I can make sure you never are again, princess.”

#tloz #tloz: totk #the legend of zelda #the legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom #tears of the kingdom #totk #link #totk link #zelda #totk zelda #princess zelda #zelink #zelda x link #fluff #comfort #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers #totk fanfic #totk drabble

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dudeandduchess · 2 years ago

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Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Surprise (Modern!AU, Mild NSFW Scenario)

Warning: Mild angst with happy ending, Making Out, Dry Humping

Note: It was missing him hours, so I had this in my head all day while I was at the beach. 😢

Summary: (Y/n) gets a little wistful while Kyōjurō is away.

***

Beach days were always a double-edged sword for (Y/n). On one hand, being out and about was good for her— as well as the fresh air— but on another hand, the people there with her never failed to get on her nerves with their ceaseless chattering.

Or maybe she was just being particularly sensitive that day, since she was utterly missing her lover.

It had only been a few weeks since Kyōjurō had left for his business trip, and they talked whenever they could, but the words on her cold screen and his warm voice through her phone was barely enough to stave the sadness and longing away.

But (Y/n) was trying to distract herself as best as she could; hence, why she was at the beach. A friend had asked her to go out on their day off, and she wasn’t too keen on the idea at first, until she figured that a distraction from her constantly checking her phone for a message from Kyō would have been a good idea.

And it worked, for the most part.

She still found herself constantly checking her phone for a message from him, and repeatedly had to hide her disappointment whenever her message notifications would end up empty.

“You seem so distracted, (Y/n),” the young woman’s friend mused with concern in her tone. “Are you alright?”

Instantly, a smile forced its way onto (Y/n)’s face. “What? Oh yeah, yeah, no worries. I’m good.”

Before she could even realise it, majority of the day had already flown by… just like that. The sad part was that she didn’t know if she should have been relieved or sad that time had jumped without a single peep from Kyōjurō.

She knew that he would have been busy with meetings and whatnot, but a part of her was also a little selfish in wishing that he would just send her any indicator that he was also thinking about her.

(Y/n) was an adult, that was for sure, but she couldn’t quite tell her heart to stop being so needy for Kyōjurō’s attention.

What she could do, however, was distract herself even more.

“Hey, you want to grab some pizza for dinner later?”

So, that was how she found herself lounging in her friend’s bed, with carbonara pizza in-between them, and the latest episode of ‘The Last of Us’ playing on the TV by the foot of the bed. Her phone was even laying face-down on the side table, if only to keep her from checking on it time and time again.

Still, none of it was enough to keep thoughts of her lover off her mind.

Especially when she saw numerous characters kissing on-screen. Those parts had her thinking back to the moments when Kyōjurō had kissed her just as tenderly, if not more.

‘Kyō can do better’, she thought with a minute shake of her head; all while she let her mind drift off to the memories of those sweet and soft lips of his on hers— and his arms caging her in against the bed.

With her pride came an even stronger twinge of sadness, making her stomach feel like it had dropped, and having her chest tighten around her heart like a vise. But she couldn’t dwell on those feelings, because she knew that he was going to come home in two weeks… and their time apart would feel like nothing more than a never-ending fever dream.

***

It was a good thing that (Y/n) lived only two blocks away from her friend, because it had begun to rain as she was about to go home, and she didn’t want to be stuck in the downpour while juggling her bulky beach bag, her borrowed umbrella, and a half-eaten pizza together.

Yet she still found herself power walking to get home, all while cursing under her breath for waiting so long to bow out of her social obligations.

If she had just gone home earlier, she wouldn’t have to put up with puddle water splashing all over her legs. Then again, if she had gone home earlier, she would have just stayed in bed and had pizza all alone.

A sigh made its way past her lips when the rain picked up even more, yet she still powered through and ignored all her neighbours that were also on their way to their own homes; not in the mood to put on more false niceties for the night.

Especially when she hadn’t heard a peep out of her Kyōjurō all day.

“Goddamn rain,” (Y/n) muttered under her breath, as she walked up to her and Kyōjurō’s apartment, only to almost jump out of her skin in fright when she saw a man trying to unlock the door.

But all her fear vanished when she saw that familiar head of fiery blond hair, which was currently plastered to her lover’s head from the downpour.

“Kyō?” The young woman gasped out, still in disbelief as she took the sight of him in; looking as sexy as ever in his white button down and his grey slacks.

Kyōjurō turned to her then, sporting the brightest and warmest smile that chased the chill out of her bones— which unfailingly made butterflies begin to flutter in her stomach. “Hey, baby.”

She didn’t even wait for him to make the first move, simply tossing the umbrella to the side and chucking her leftover pizza in another direction, before running up to her lover and wrapping her arms around his middle. “You’re here! How?”

If she had felt warm from his smile before, it had nothing on the feel of his arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders, all before he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

“I told them that I had an urgent matter, so I had to go home.”

It wasn’t like Kyō to lie at all, especially when it came to his job; he was simply too responsible for that. But something in his words— his tiny act of being a rebellious bad boy— stirred something within (Y/n).

She closed the gap between their lips once more, this time going for a much deeper kiss— all while her hands made their way to her lover’s backside, cupping his ass through his pants, and pulling his hips flush against her body.

“I’m taking it that you missed me as well,” The blond teased with a smile, before surprising (Y/n) and pressing her back against the front door.

He caged her in with his arms then, hovering his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath fanning across her lips. It was such a heady temptation that neither of them could resist; finding themselves gravitating back towards each other’s mouths— sharing open-mouthed kisses, and playfully trying to get the upper hand.

That was until Kyōjurō lifted his lover up against him, making her wrap her thighs around his waist before he pushed the door open. Only, he didn’t make it that far into the house; settling for kicking the door closed and pinning her against it once more.

And since they were well within the confines of their own home, the couple shed their inhibitions and reservations even more. Their kisses grew much hotter— teeth nipping at lips, and tongues snaking into each other’s mouths to play.

All the while, Kyōjurō shamelessly nestled himself as close as he could to (Y/n)’s core; pressing his hard cock against her clothed pussy, and slowly thrusting against her to stimulate both of them.

(Y/n)’s body felt so hot all over, and all of the sadness that she felt before was nothing more than a bad memory in the back of her head. All that she could focus on at that moment was the feel of Kyōjurō’s hard and thick cock rubbing against her, making her wetter than she already was.

“I can’t wait to be inside you, baby,” The young man whispered against his lover’s lips, before capturing them in another searing kiss. “I’ve missed you so, so much.”

#rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #kyojuro smut #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x reader

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firapolemos05 · 3 months ago

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@augusnippets Path of Hurt

Day 13: drugging/poisoning/cannibalism

CW: monster attack, venom, paralysis, blood

Word Count: 587

Shoku (he/him)

Shiki (she/her)

All it took was one misstep. One little mistake for everything to go wrong. Shoku left himself open, and before he knew it, the monster's teeth were in his leg.

And its venom.

A swing of his blade slices off one of its spindly limbs and it recoils with a shriek. But it still had five more left while Shoku could already feel his thigh beginning to numb.

He needs to finish this fast. Shouishi venom would not kill him, but being paralyzed at the mercy of a mouth full of teeth certainly would.

The monster lunges again, enticed by the blood staining the torn edges of Shoku's hakama. Its head dwarfs the rest of its body, but the skin is thick. And the curved horns that adorn it make for effective tools of defense.

Shoku could barely feel his leg anymore.

The toxin acts far more quickly than he anticipated. Would any of his potions help? If he'd known in advance exactly what creature the village had called on him to come exterminate, he could've prepared. Acquired an ailment warding tonic. Perhaps an enchantment to fend off toxins if their cleric possessed the skill.

He should’ve thought better.

The paralysis spreads. It's an effort to keep standing. He cuts off another of the Shouishi's legs and his fingers threaten to lose their grip on the sword. The monster slows, transparent blue blood oozing from its wounds. Shoku hoped it would've given up, would've retreated to protect itself and live another day. But it remains on the hunt, seeing its prey weaken.

His legs give out beneath him and Shoku hits the ground hard. Muscles and nerves sparking with fear-induced adrenaline before going dark. Like being encased in cold mochi.

He should’ve prepared more. He should’ve called for help.

He's going to fail.

The hand in a death grip on his sword still sparks with fleeting movement. The monster advances, hunger and triumph clouding fear and recognition of danger. It doesn't expect anymore fighting. That opening allows Shoku the opportunity, using what little strength remains to lift his blade.

And send its tip piercing through the Shouishi's eye.

It screeches and cries, flails and writhes. Blue blood running down its twisted face. Shoku holds it there for as long as he can, trying to force deeper in. Pierce the brain. Make the kill. Forcing his body to listen, his grip to hold-.

His arm goes limp, and the thrasting monster pulls the sword from his grip.

He can't move.

The monster is ravenous. And now it is angry.

Shoku can only lie and wait for it to rend him apart.

Thunk!

A song of death fills the air. The final throes of a dying creature.

Through the silk veil over his face, Shoku's eyes catch the glint of the spearhead where it embeds in the ground, its length impaling the Shouishi's thorax. It gets moments to cry, before a faint blue wisp of magic alights, and shards of ice burst from the weapon and through its body.

The clearing goes silent.

If Shoku had control over his body, he'd be gasping. His heart still pounding with such a close brush with death.

Then a shadow falls over him. And an eagle larger than a bear with feathers the color of chestnuts descends from above.

A woman with a green haori embroidered with gold ginkgo leaves dismounts. As she walks over to where Shoku lays, he sees that both her legs are made of wood.

“You still alive?”

#augusnippets #augusnippets day 13 #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump stuff #tw blood #poisoning #Tōzuki Shoku #Gotaka Shiki #my ocs #my writing #my work #Xitanae tag #original #so this is how these two meet #future besties

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yarrayora · 5 months ago

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I know you ship xanxus and iduna but how would their meeting actually go in your au?

depends on whether we go with "the eves successfully extracted the tenth generation out of the mafia life while destroying vongola" timeline or "tsuna became decimo proper and reunited with mahiru ten years later at a gala" route

the first one is already set in stone to me: after the fall of vongola varia has no choice but to lay low as the subclasses (those who nurtured their vengeance for vongola, those who adored the first generation, and those who used to work for vongola) meticulously tear down the hierarchy that has been set in place since the 19th Century

even though Varia belongs to Xanxus, the only reason he can still hold onto his position as its leader is because Timoteo is too soft-hearted to execute him anyway

when you're up against a horde of undeads with immortals as their leader... Mammon suggests making a gamble of a lifetime: Seek out the Mother of Wrath and appeal to her preference for fallen warriors and see whether or not they can figure out how to defeat the enemy from the inside

is it humiliating? yes. is xanxus a dumbass who would risk losing everything for the sake of his pride? fuck no, lol. you don't survive the mafia by being an idiot who can't calculate your losses. and xanxus survived failed coups TWICE.

now that they're considered wrath's people, the vampires stop hunting them. but, well, the moment xanxus realizes he's getting way too comfortable at the orchard, he's going to fuck off and rebuild varia as a mercenary company (because a real relationship and a stable lifestyle is scawwweeee for them) and then iduna asks tsuna's help to invent a net that can handle the strength of a sky flame so she can hunt xanxus down

"....iduna-san, your taste is so bad"

with the boss tsuna timeline there are a lot more variations like her getting kidnapped, or them meeting in a battlefield, or the varia finding out the previous sword emperor and leader of the varia is now the subclass of wrath

but most importantly in either timeline frey's influence definitely doesn't help deter iduna's interest in xanxus, the demon thinks xanxus' wrath is juicy and iduna had experience dealing with shamrock's anger

that's exactly why she cant leave him alone can she? the darkness that came with wrath is scary and lonely, of course she reaches out to make him look beyond the pitch black darkness where he could only see himself

and it's not her that she wants him to see

it's the loyal men who would grovel and crush their own prides for the sake of his dream

#iduxan #de vice family history au #overtly aggressive bubbly girl vs 30 years old virgin mafioso #the virgin loses

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year ago

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Chapter 12

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

If you like this fic, please remember to reblog so that others may also see it!

Pairing: Melot x OFC (Tamsyn)

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Here we go: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, MINORS DNI. p-in-v sex, fingering (vaginal), handjob, oral (m receiving), angst. Historical inaccuracies, probably.

A/N: And there we have it. The conclusion - and that one night you horny bitches have been waiting for. Our lovebirds' wedding night... I can't believe it's over. They've been through so much, and now they're finally together forever... (Excuse me while I shamelessly bawl my eyes out over my own damn fic lmfao) Enjoy <3

You stood there, helplessly, in the dimly lit room, praying for some strength and courage as you looked at your new bride. The terrified look in her eyes, you feared would be etched into your memory forever. You knew of your duties as a husband, but how could you when she was so clearly frightened. With swift, decisive, and mostly very thoroughly practiced motions, you unbuckled the belt that held your sword, and put it away. Hopefully, you would have no further use for it tonight.

“What happens now?” Tamsyn whispered so softly that you barely heard her voice at all. A few careful steps closed the distance between the two of you, and you put your hands on her waist. Gerant had been right, after all; she seemed rather clueless when it came to the specifics of the time that lay ahead of her. “I wasn’t told much more than that you are my husband, and if you touch me, I should yield to your wishes, even if it hurts.”

Her words cut through you like a knife, as you were still vehemently opposed to the notion of causing her pain. “I don’t want it to hurt you,” you spoke plainly as you wrapped your arms around her.

“I know, Melot,” she said timidly, “but it appears to be a rather necessary part in the consummation of our union as man and wife.”

“Look at me, Tamsyn,” you said sternly as you placed a hand on either side of her face. “I will not hurt you. I simply refuse.” Your words seemed to calm her down, and you stood there for a while, in silence, holding each other, until a thought occurred to you: Tamsyn was now your wife.

“I can kiss you now, whenever I want,” you muttered – to which she responded with a laugh.

“Personally, I like to think it is of some importance to you that I am equally as willing to partake in such endeavours,” she said softly, her eyes holding the familiar kindness that she had always displayed. It shone brightly through the fear and nervousness that had seemed to have been carved so firmly into her features only moments ago.

“You can stop me anytime,” you replied as you moved closer and closer to her.

When your lips touched hers, you moaned immediately. As exciting as the kisses you had exchanged in secret had been, the knowledge that no one could ever take her away from you again made this one feel infinitely better in every conceivable way. If anyone came in now, and found you like this, you would simply send them on their way, after scolding them for disturbing you and your very own wife, on your very own wedding night.

With great care, your fingers sought out the ribbons that had been keeping her hair in the intricate up do she had worn at the wedding, and attempted to undo the knot in them. It proved impossible, and you both laughed at your clumsiness as you tried again and again, failing every single time. Finally, she pushed your hands out of the way, and with one swift motion untied the ribbons, sending part of her hair cascading down her shoulders. Grabbing her hand and pulling her along, you made your way to your bed, and she hesitantly followed, a puzzled look appearing in her eyes as you sat her down on the edge, and joined her by her side.

“Turn around,” you said, followed by a gesture that indicated which way you wanted her to move – facing away from you, so that you had access to her hair. Now that you could see what you were doing, the many plaits were much more easily loosened, and her hair hung completely loose on her back. “Look at me, my darling wife.”

As she turned around, you gasped quietly as the strands of her hair fell around her head. You hadn’t seen her like this before, and you impatiently ran your fingers through the loose tresses before pulling her face to yours again. As you kissed her, she fussed with the braids in your hair, undoing them with much less trouble than you had hers. That, apparently, was the extent of her courage, because her hands lingered in your hair as your tongues danced once again, still learning new things as they wandered, slipping past each other with amorous vigour.

Your wandering hands were met with hesitation and – eventually – nervous rejection.

“I’m scared,” she admitted begrudgingly. Her words shattered your heart. It had never been your intention to exacerbate her fright. Immediately, your hands stilled, and you looked deeply into the eyes of your beloved.

“Please, don’t be. My love, words cannot describe how I long to touch you, but I want you to feel comfortable.” Every last one of your words was true, though you found it increasingly difficult to keep yourself from acting on your deepest desires; to feel her skin beneath your fingertips, finally learning if she was as warm and smooth as she had always been in your most daring dreams. “You told me before that I am not alone in my wish to know each other intimately. Now, you can surrender to your desires, my love, I beg you; yield not to my touch, but to your own urges.” The tone in which you spoke surprised you; your voice thick with longing – hoarse and low, almost a grunt. You leaned your forehead against hers, while your hand rested lightly on her cheek.

“What if I refuse?” Her voice was small, the words falling from trembling lips as she looked at you – still terrified.

“I will respect your wishes,” you promised solemnly.

“Do you not wish to be truly married to me?” she asked suddenly. These infernal women and their inimitable trains of thought!

“Of course I do,” you sighed in exasperation. “What do you want me to do? Force you to consummate our marriage, despite your obvious fears? Wouldn’t you despise me forever?” Your thumb gently caressed her cheek, and after a few moments, she leaned her head into your touch, covering your hand with hers.

“Kiss me, Melot,” she whispered, “kiss me like you did last time. I wasn’t afraid, then, why should I be now?” You weren’t quite sure if those last words were aimed at you, or mostly at herself, but you were more than happy to heed her request.

This time, she allowed herself to be swept up in the kiss as much as you were. Gently, you pulled her further onto your bed.

After carefully laying you down on his bed, Melot resumed his endeavour to kiss you, and he seemed to have set out to rid you completely of all your senses. Soon, you were moaning loudly against his soft lips, the stubble on his jaw and chin scraping your skin in a way that was somehow enticing. Rough hands trailed your sides, fingers eagerly digging into your body, impatient to meet the flesh that lay beneath the fabric of your clothes.

A moan slipped from your lips as his hands left your body to loosen the laces that kept him clothed – they impatiently worked to bare his chest before returning to you. He leaned over you again, only to be met with a decisive push against his sternum while your other hand travelled over the scar on his shoulder. Slowly, you rose off the bed, supporting yourself with your elbow, and pressed your lips to the jagged pink line on his skin.

“It’s healed beautifully,” you spoke without thinking much. Above you, Melot grinned. “It was well taken care of,” he spoke softly before lowering his head to make your lips meet again.

Your fingers weaved into his curls, pulling him tighter as he deepened your kiss, gently exploring your mouth with his tongue as he had a few times before, but this time without the restraint he had been forced to show the previous times. Slowly, your hands moved away from his hair, travelling down his back until they rested at his waist. During your time taking care of him, you had often wondered – and caught some glimpses of – what his skin would feel like beneath your fingertips, and now that you finally had your answer, you thought you might never stop touching him.

With one hand, Melot undid the lacing of your gown, not yet attempting to remove the garment completely. Instead, his fingers gingerly trailed the neckline of the dress in a silent bid for permission. After taking in a deep breath, you granted it to him, gasping quietly when his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, exploring the skin of your breasts. His touch raised goosebumps on your skin, your nipples tightening against the smooth fabric as his hands inched closer ever so slowly.

“Please, my love, let me look at you,” he begged, an edge of desperation to his voice you hadn’t heard before. The sound of it warmed your heart in an unusual way, and you gladly granted him his wish. His lips sought out the sensitive skin of your neck while he pushed the fabric off your shoulders until your chest was exposed to him.

He did not stop there, and you did not want him to. Instead, you let him have his way with your gown until he discarded the fabric next to the bed, along with any other garments you were wearing. Strangely enough, none of the fear that you had felt before remained as Melot slowly acquainted himself with your body. First, his fingers trailed lightly over your chest, hesitantly exploring the pebbled skin of your nipples, leaving you gasping at the new sensation. With great care, he planted a trail of kisses along your neck and collarbone, and you quivered every time you felt the gentle touch of his mouth on your skin.

Melot moaned softly as his mouth enveloped your nipple. It startled you, though not as much as the hand that travelled further south, until it drew small, slow circles through the hair on your mound before slipping between your legs – or rather: attempting to, because you clenched your thighs together with all your might. He raised his head, a sweet smile adorning his face as he chuckled.

“Don’t be afraid, darling,” he said, his voice as honeyed as his facial expression.

Not quite reluctantly, but not precisely enthusiastically, either, you allowed him to proceed. Excruciatingly slowly his hands roamed over the inside of your legs, teasingly inching closer to the spot at the apex of your thighs that ached for his touch. On the rare occasions you had been alone at night, and had thought of Melot, that same spot had craved attention, and you had sought to relieve that craving, thus the feeling was not wholly unfamiliar to you, but now that it was him…

You gasped as the tip of his finger grazed your sensitive, hidden pearl, and you watched him chuckle softly under his breath as he languidly trailed around it for a while before venturing further, spreading your petals and gathering some of your arousal. He tentatively dipped a finger into your wet heat, leaving you moaning in his arms once more as he ventured deeper, adding a second finger, pumping them into you slowly and with great care. When he added a third, you inhaled sharply, startled by the stretch it provided.

Melot sighed, resting his forehead against your cheek as he ground his hips into you, his erection pressing against you firmly with every move. Oh, how you longed to touch him! Suddenly, those actions of which Beryan had spoken seemed not remotely as scandalous as they had before. After al, you were with your husband, were you not?

Slowly, but quite decisively – much to your own surprise – you reached for the laces that held up his breeches, untying them swiftly and impatiently. There was no way to miss the devious glint in Melot’s eyes as you eagerly pushed them down until his manhood sprang free of its confines.

“Touch me, dearest,” he whispered, “I beg of you.”

Hesitantly, you moved your hand down his body and wrapped it around his member, leaving Melot gasping as your small hand struggled to close all the way around his hardness. You, on the other hand, chuckled softly in surprise at the softness of his skin. Melot’s fingers stilled inside of you when you gently traced a vein on his cock, and a soft gasp escaped him. Slow, gentle strokes lured more desperate whimpers from him – delectable sounds that sent your confidence soaring higher than it had ever before. A soft chuckle escaped you as you took note of Melot’s quickening breath. He had abandoned his quest to explore your core, and a gentle push against his shoulder was all it took to get him to roll onto his back so you could more easily continue on your mission to bring your new husband pleasure.

“Oh, my love.” The words were barely audible, to the point where they were almost overshadowed by the rustling of the covers as he moved. You kissed down his neck, to his chest, briefly lingering over the scar on his shoulder, pressing your mouth to it ever so slightly.

Melot whimpered softly as you travelled further, his hand tangling lightly in your hair, guiding you down gently, hesitantly, until you found yourself seated between his legs, looking up at him. Suddenly, your courage plummeted, leaving you scared and unsure what to do. Beryan’s words echoed in your head, utterly unhelpfully, and your thought threatened to spiral out of control swiftly. Finally, you dared to look up, finding solace in Melot’s pleading eyes, which begged you to continue whatever it was that you were planning on doing. As best you could, you did away with the thought that he must have heard others speak of it. To say you succeeded would have been quite the overstatement, but you managed to calm yourself enough to proceed, at least.

As soon as your tongue came into contact with the tip of Melot’s cock, he gasped loudly, encouraging you to continue on your endeavours. His back arched off the bed – a seemingly involuntary movement that was paired with a vaguely pained grunt – as you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips carefully around the head. Your movements up and down his length yielded similar responses – and watching his reactions to your ministrations brought back the ache between your legs, your slick and waiting centre begging for his attention.

It was right at that moment that his hand found its way to your cheek, gently pushing you off of him. At first you wondered if you had done something wrong, but the expression on his face told you nothing of the sort – in fact, it seemed that quite the opposite was the case. His touch was rough as he pulled you back up until you were lying next to him again, his fingers immediately finding their way between your legs, tending to your growing desire.

He pushed three fingers into you, this time with greater ease than the time before, and his thumb once again rubbed gentle circles around your swollen pearl. To ever greater heights soared your pleasure under his ministrations, until one particular slip of his fingers pulled you over an edge you’d never encountered before. You grasped the covers as the muscles in your body tensed and a feeling of pure bliss washed over you, leaving you gasping for air.

“Stop,” you panted, taking hold of Melot’s wrist, “please stop.” A sigh of relief escaped you when Melot moved his hand away from your sensitive flesh.

He looked at you, desire burning in his eyes, and leaned in to kiss you once more as his hand relocated to your hip. The question at hand remained unasked, but just as well understood by both of you, and with a decisive nod that was somehow accompanied by a new lump in your throat, you gave him your permission. He hovered over you, an elbow placed on either side of your body, as he took his position between your legs, his nerves apparent in the rather clumsy way he moved. You let out a moan of utter delight as he finally found your entrance and plunged deep into your desperate core.

“Are you alright, my love?” he muttered, restraint and concentration abundant in his voice as he attempted to stay still for a moment. Another edge to his tone revealed that the current experience was pleasant to him, to say the least.

“Never better,” you sighed contently, relishing the feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. And then he moved. Slowly – almost tauntingly so – and carefully, he retreated, leaving an indescribable emptiness inside of you that longed to be filled so violently that a pitiful whine escaped you completely involuntarily. Without thinking, you moved a hand to his back, attempting to halt his retreat, to pull him back to you, so that you could feel him inside you once again, but he resisted the force you exerted on him with remarkable ease. His next thrust was slow and controlled, the grunts that spilled from Melot disclosing just how taxing his efforts were on his self-restraint.

“I can’t…” His voice was so low the words were barely audible, a rough edge to his tone that made butterflies flutter in your stomach for no apparent reason. “I need you.”

Apologetic eyes gazed down upon you as the pace of Melot’s thrusts increased. You could tell – quite easily, in fact – that he tried his best to be gentle with you, that he still objected greatly to causing you any pain. Then again, this was a man clearly more well-versed in ending life than creating it, and as he lost himself in carnal desire, his motions became uncontrolled and rough. You pulled him close, making no attempt to slow him down or in any way change his approach. In fact, his actions made you see stars and feel that mysterious burning deep inside of you. A part of you – and an increasingly prominent one at that – even wished for him to abandon his resolve not to hurt you. It was clear by now that you felt nothing but intense pleasure, and perhaps more and more and more of this would finally scratch that nagging itch inside your core that always seemed so disappointingly out of reach. Your hips mimicked his rhythm, seeking more of him – faster, deeper, just… more – and a smile appeared on his lips. He allowed you to pull his face to yours, and he grunted softly as you sealed your mouth over his. You moaned every time Melot thrust into you, revelling in the similar sounds that fell from his lips at the same time, convincing you that you felt as good to him as he did to you. Finally, his rhythm faltered, his hips stuttered, and his motions stilled as he spilled his seed inside of you.

He held you close to him as you both struggled to catch your breath – a task that would have seemed far less monumental in nature, had circumstances been different, for at the same time your thoughts ran wild as you struggled to truly understand that you were now husband and wife. A few times the thought crossed your mind that you had enjoyed the consummation of your marriage far more than was appropriate – that your impertinent desires would make your husband turn elsewhere, but turning your head and looking into the eyes of your beloved eased your mind. The man next to you was positively smitten with you – as much as, if not more than, he had always been.

“My dear,” he whispered, still not quite breathing as he should, “are you alright? Did I hurt you?” There was sorrow in his eyes as he examined your expression closely. “I didn’t mean to… I’m so terribly sorry I lost control.”

His apology made you chuckle, and you turned to him, placing a hand on his cheek. “I felt nothing but pleasure, my love,” you replied, much to your own surprise. A moment ago, you had thought your enjoyment inappropriate, now you were freely confessing it to your beloved – your husband. Your cheeks reddened and heated, and you averted your gaze as you prepared to continue your admission. “In fact, I think I will quite enjoy this part of my wifely duties.”

#melot fanfiction #melot #melot fanfic #melot x ofc #tristan + isolde #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

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