#go off my liege ❤️ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

instarsandcrime · 6 months

Text

Pride Is A Fickle Thing

Well...at least it's not just Lu/ci/fer this time?

@onetrickponi had some great prompts to offer and, since she said she might be writing them, I decided to change up a certain one a little so it turned out the same but also different! Can be read as Ra//dio//App//le or just platonic fluff! Enjoy! ❤️

Prompt: Lu/ci/fer heals A/la/stor, though it takes a great deal of expended effort on his part and it turns out both of them hate looking weak in front of other people.

---

"Hp'shhzzzt!" A sharp, staticky sneeze slipped through a crack in the shadows.

Alastor wheezed as he grabbed yet another handkerchief from his collection, attempting in vain to blow away the clinging itch that stuck to him for the entire meeting. But he couldn't help it. Every single twitch of the finger, every flick of the ear, every time he even bothered to move his holy wound its poison would snake through his ribs and up to his aching head. And when it did the reaction got worse. And when the reaction got worse he couldn't help but...c-couldn't...help but…but snehhh--

"Et'chhht! TSH'ZZZZHHEW! Nnghh..." The overlord muttered out a string of curses as another wave of pain shot through him, grasping a pillar before he could double over and collapse.

“Oof, ouch! That one sounded rough." An irritatingly cheery voice chirped from nowhere in particular.

"Oh do be qui-quieehhh...Heh! Heh’eshhh't! Het'chhhzzz't!" Pressing a well-used cloth up to reddened nostrils, Alastor hurriedly straightened himself, discreetly rubbing the swarm of feathers he felt as far back as it could go.

"Bless y-- er, no, wait. That's not appropriate for someone like you, is it?" And with a golden puff of smoke he finally appeared. The six winged thorn in his side. “Fuck off? Damn you? Curse you, maybe? Mmmn no, I think you’ve already got that handled.”

"Lucifer." Alastor's ear flicked in annoyance, "What can I do for you m-my unh-huhh-holy fellow? Off t-to find some...s-some...snff! Suhh-someone to pestehhhHET'ZSCHHHH! Ghhh..."

The fallen angel winced as shrill feedback pierced the air. "Lookin' a bit sneezy there, bud. I guess even the most powerful overlords catch colds. Just goes to show that somewhere deep, deep, deeeeep down, you still have a mortal soul."

The Radio Demon chuckled, smile splitting despite the feverish beads of sweat that rolled down his neck. "On the contrary! Why, I'm the guardian angel of the Hazbin Hotel! I'm sure Charlie would agree."

Lucifer twisted the cane in his palms. “Ohoh! That definitely sounds like my little girl!”

"Agreed! She is truly a marvel. Exiling all doubts with a cheerful smile!"

"And when the hotel gets big enough, who knows? Maybe she won’t even need you anymore! She can take your place all on her own-- without the tacky bellhop suit, of course."

"Hah! Radio never truly goes out of style. Unlike...u-unlike the...the..."

"Speechless already?"

"A trifuhhh…huh! T-trifling matter, My Liege. I'm simply allergihhh...allergic to...to your bullshhHHT’SHHHhhoo...Huh'zschhh!"

"Impressive comeback. You should really--"

"'Hup’KZSSHHHT! HT'SHHH'OOooo...guhh…snff!" Worry bloomed on Lucifer’s face when his rival flashed a sliver of a wince. And as quick as it grew, Alastor rushed to crush the blossom with the wave of a hand. “Such compassion! I was wonderihh…wondering when the sin of pride would lower himself to such a weak emotion–”

“Let me see it.”

“Pardon?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” His patient opened his mouth, “Nope, wait, don’t answer that. Just let me see the wound.”

“Hah! How absurd! Me? Get hurt?” The Radio Demon’s voice crackled with laughter, an unseen audience following suit. “Has our poor king gone senile in his old age?”

“I–! You–!” Lucifer took a deep breath, wisps of smoke billowing from his nose.

Inhale. Exhale.

“Okay.”

Despite his eternal grin, Alastor’s feverish eyes blinked back confusion. “...O. Okay?”

“Okay.” The king deadpanned, hopping back a few steps. “You like making deals, right?”

“I do have other hobbies, you know.”

“Nice. I don’t care. Walk to me without sneezing once. I know you can hide the pain, but if you think holy poison will just go away, then you must either be the most stubborn man in the nine rings, or the biggest dumbass.” He paused. “Or both. If you lose, I heal you and you never have to think about Adam and his gaudy lute axe again. If you win, let’s just say that in a few more days, no one in Hell will hear another broadcast from The Radio Demon again.”

A suffocating silence fell over the two, with only the small ambience of old timey cigarette advertisements and Ella Fitzgerald to keep them company. Until finally obsidian claws drummed against the tip of a microphone.

“...Fine.” Alastor said simply.

“Fine.” Lucifer spat back.

“A simple task, really.”

“Then stop stalling and do it, coward.” Satan flashed his pearly fangs.

A scarlet eye twitched. His opponent took a tentative step forward and the itch followed suit, fighting the urge to rub a knuckle against it.

“Having trouble there?”

“I can assure you I'm per…p-perfectly fihh-fide.” Another step. The growing tickle burned from the bridge to the tip.

“Fihhh-fidt as a fidd-fiddle.”

Almost halfway. Hold it in, hold it in.

“I'b dot as weak as y-yuhhh…you thidk…”

Through irritated tears, slit pupils studied him closely. “Uh-huh. Still don’t believe you.”

Temper beginning to flare as badly as his wound, the overlord opened his mouth to retort. But his voice was completely stolen as the itch teased the rim of his nostrils. It built and built until–

Oh, fuck it.

“Heh'SHHHHZT! Ihh-hih-Hp'SCHHH! ‘TSCHHHH'hhooo…nhhh…” The ground beneath him whirled and tilted like a merry-go-round and he was falling, falling, falling– only to be caught and dragged off the ride with unnervingly gentle hands.

“I've got you.” Lucifer muttered.

“What’s goi’g od? Why are you doi’g this?” The Radio Demon demanded as he was lifted, a body barely up to his chest not acknowledging his weight.

“Because lucky for you, I used to be a saint.” Wait…when did they get to his bathroom? When was he suddenly draped against the wall?

“You hate me." For some reason Alastor couldn’t control his shaking voice, losing the strength to fight. He sounded so disgustingly fragile. He hated it. He hated this. He hated. He. Hated.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, shut up and let me save you already!” Lucifer swore, clicking the locks in place with the snap of his fingers. Alastor flinched when freezing hands pressed against a soaked through dress shirt and– oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, no shit!” A pure light became a ripple. Then a swirl. Then a bubble. It filled every space imaginable, bathing the pair in its warm blanket. Faintly, Alastor tasted a hint of jambalaya on his tongue. And like a needle and thread to a spilled over poppet, The wound began to close.

Unfortunately, despite the subsiding agony, the holy light that caught his patient's eye did not agree with him. Wait. If angelic power hurt a demon, why was he being healed with–

“H-hhh!” Alastor’s breath hitched.

“Seriously? Now? I’m trying to work here.” Lucifer growled, almost fumbling the surgery when his concentration nearly broke. Through the haze, the overlord could glimpse familiar beads of sweat that trickled down the side of the fallen angel’s neck.

“H-hhh…c-cad’t…h-hhhhelp it…” Between hiccuping breaths and stuttering speech, somewhere along the way a finger was pressed underneath his fluttering nostrils.

“I swear to my fucking Father.” Lucifer huffed out, blinking blearily as he continued his surgery one-handed. And before the wound closed, Alastor couldn’t help but dread at the way Lucifer’s eyelids drooped further and further, teetering between exhaustion and pain.

With two hands the healing process would have taken two minutes.

With one it took two hours. Or at least, the amount of hands was Lucifer’s excuse.

Alastor would have been more impressed if not for the fact that he was not impressed, because it was a ridiculous emotion to have for Lucifer of all beings. So instead, the next day, he chose to focus on what couldn’t heal right away.

“Het’schhzz!” Alastor pitched into his handkerchief, and Charlie quickly caught his breakfast plate before she could drop it.

“Bless you!” She breathed, clutching her chest with one hand.

Well. At least it wasn’t every five seconds.

“Thank you, my dear. Ironic as it may be.” Alastor chuckled, moving to pick up his utensils. He scanned the dining table to take in the morning rush. Angel Dust was gabbing away next to Husker, silently snatching food off his plate with his lower pair of arms. Vaggie was taking a sharpening stone to her spear between bites of food, softening when her princess veered the corner to give a quick peck on the lips. Sir Pentious was waving his spindly hands about, excitedly explaining the inner workings of his ‘flying machine’ to Niffty, who was absolutely more interested in the bug crawling on his top hat.

Overall a peaceful morning. Too peaceful. It unsettled him that there was one piece missing–

Ah. Out of the corner of his eye a small, white rat slowly crawled across the carpet. One with chubby, cherub cheeks. Fur mussed. Bags under its button eyes. A golden flush dotting his face, glowing like a firefly. And then suddenly everything clicked.

The lack of a wound or poison, but still feeling a fading tickle. The shared symptoms between them. Lucifer hadn’t just been exhausted that night. He hadn’t just healed him. Oh no, the bastard just had to take the holy poison for himself knowing that a half-holy body would survive. Though it was obvious he was equally– oh, what was that saying Rosie was kind enough to teach him– ‘going through it’. The fact that he would even risk inhaling a drop for someone he hated so much…

Hm.

Well, Alastor decided to himself, It would be remiss of him to not repay the favor. So with all the mercy of a heartless overlord, he kicked the stupid rat as far as it could go. With a startled squeak and a puff of smoke, the King of Hell tumbled across the floor. The dining room went silent for a moment, all eyes on the sudden appearance of Lucifer Morningstar lying on his back– disheveled, dazed, and stone still.

“Oh my gosh, dad!” Charlie yelped as her father pushed himself upright– moving stiffly, Alastor noted. “I didn’t see you come in…to…” As she helped him stand, her voice trailed off. “Are you okay?”

“I second that, fer the record.” Angel Dust waved a fork nonchalantly in the air, “Kingy’s always an early riser. What gives?”

“Worrywarts, aren’t they?” Lucifer jolted as Alastor popped up beside him with a screeching static, suddenly inches apart. His smirk widened as he tilted his head with a little, high pitched ‘hm!’ “I must say, I can’t help but feel the same. Your regal features look a bit. Oh, what’s the word?” He motions to his own face with a dramatic flourish. “Off-color.”

Lucifer’s glare broke when he put a hand up to his cheek. Then another, eyes growing wide as teacup saucers. It didn’t help when embarrassment overtook his feverish blush, brightening with the panic. “H-hah!” He chuckled nervously, summoning his top hat to tug the brim over his face. “W-wouldja look at that? Guess I fell asleep at the ol’ workshop again and I ran my power a little too– …t-too hot…” He sniffed sharply, rubbing at his nose.

“How uncouth.” Alastor circled the man like a ravenous beast. “Quite unlike yourself to be in such a state. Maybe you should be a little more honest. I can even give you a push.”

“Wh-whhhat are you–”

With a single poke of his cane Lucifer stumbled, grimacing in pain. And it only took one poke for that short-lived charade to fall apart.

“H-hehhh! No, ndo dabbit keeb idt togehh…together…”

“Your Majesty? Are you…?” Vaggie sat straighter, brow furrowed.

“Oof! That don’t look right.” Angel winced.

“Mhm.” Husk hummed into his mug of whisky.

“Oh my. The ultimate bad boy needs to be cleaned!” Niffty gasped.

“Poor thing.” Sir Pentious’s bottom lip wobbled.

“Dad?” Charlie set a hand on his shoulder. Then jumped back with a squeak as the single touch sparked the powder keg.

“Hit’schh!” Lucifer bent at the waist, merciless fit wracking an already exhausted body. “It’schh! It’shieww! Hit’SCHIEW! Hnt’SHIEW! HET’SCHH! ‘TSHH! TCHH! Hit’SCHH’HIEW! H-hihhh…hih! Hih– HITSCHHHH’HIEW!”

The room went silent. Angel Dust whistled lowly.

“My goodness, bless you!” Alastor gaped, every movement an exaggerated performance.

“Y-you did thahhh– thadt od purpose you sohd of ahhh– hah-HATSCHHHHIEW!” The fallen king pitched forward again. When he finally surfaced he was staggering, holding his aching head. “S’rry…’bout thadt.”

Before Charlie could run to catch him Alastor tutted, summoning his shadow to steady his rival, bending its lanky limb over his forehead. “My my, you sound awful! Simply dreadful! Overworked, perhaps? Or…oh, it couldn’t be! Is the King of Hell ill?”

“Oh shudt up Alasdtor– snff! I’b dot sigk! Idt’s jus’dt–”

“Allergies?” Husk deadpanned, expression completely unimpressed.

“Allergies!” Lucifer blurted, “Nodthin’ do worry your head over. So ihhh–...hih! hit’TSCHIU! HET’CHHHIEWW! Nghh, jus’dt ledt be–”

Charlie’s grip tightened, other hand reaching for a napkin. “Don’t run! Please?”

The King of Hell froze. He couldn’t help it. He was completely powerless when it came to his little girl. His flush started to hem the edges of silverware and dusted the windows, and he decided to look anywhere but at Charlie, distracting himself with a mucky nose blow into the makeshift tissue.

“I…I guess I’ll stick around a while longer. I feel a bit dizzy, anyway.” He chuckled, trying to pretend like every word didn’t painfully scrape at his chest. But Charlie smiled brightly, and she guided him to a chair Vaggie had already pulled out for him. Stepping back to wave her hands. Go on!

Lucifer blinked back shock when the room watched, silent with bated breath. “Oh– snff! Oh, well. Um. It’s not an emergency but. But I may be thirsty–”

Zipping back and forth, Niffty slid a cup of water by his side.

“Oh! Th-thank you.” Lucifer smiled bashfully.

The silenced thickened, group looking on expectantly.

“...More?!”

“More.” Charlie nodded, crossing her arms. Awestruck, the hermit crumbled as his closest residents and friends fussed and fretted. All the while Alastor sat comfortably in his chair and sipped his tea, humming to the tune of a new morning.

The perfectly chaotic puzzle was complete. Just the way he liked it.

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#a/la/stor #lu/ci/fer #char/lie #va/ggi/ie #an/gel/du/st #hu/sk #ni/ff/ty #sir/pen/tious

82 notes · View notes

vasito-de-leche · 4 months

Note

Your writing is my new craving. It’s some of the best stuff I’ve read for headcannons & analysis on here.

Can you please do Tennant if you can ?🙏 Just anything about her would be great!

❤️❤️❤️

;R1999 TENNANT - "when morning comes"

Tennant x Reader 1.4k words fluff You are Tennant's most precious diamond -- if you won't take care of yourself, then it is up to her to set things right. Nevermind her ulterior motives, nor the desire to keep you all to herself. She promises that her intentions are pure, and you believe her. The world can wait, you deserve some rest.

this was gonna be a little longer, with tennant disappearing and you running off to find her because That's Your Wife And Youre Very Stubborn but I chose to keep this fluffy instead o7

consider this tennant's part of the sleepy time fic saga <3

Life feels like a dream.

No, that is much too vague. It feels like the fluffiest cloud you could ever imagine. It's the softest silks and rich, velvet fabrics enveloping your bare skin, protecting you from everything and anything that could harm you. The perfect temperature of a sunny day, not too cold and not too hot, but just right.

To any outsiders, your glee and happiness are nothing but the byproduct of madness, the folly of a delusional mind. And you laugh at this notion, because you don't need any rose-colored glasses to delude yourself, not when your eyes are so occupied staring at the love of your life.

You'd gladly go blind if it meant looking at her until darkness overtakes your vision, the memory of her face being the last thing you'll ever see. This is a tragedy that can be easily remedied with your hands, exploring her features and committing them to memory once again. When your hands can no longer move, you will have your ears to follow after her sweet voice. When your ears clog up with those words of love, you will have your mouth to speak them back to her. See? It is all planned out; you are ready to live and die for love.

You are ready to drown in the fantasy Ada Tennant has built for you.

Ada, your Ada, lays beside you. The sun glows behind her, outlining her figure with an angelic glow as she slides one hand to the back of your neck, cradling you closer as to protect you and your sleep from the light. Little does she know, you're wide awake, basking in her presence. The moment your face presses ever so gently against her chest, you breathe in her perfume -- she's wearing the one you gifted to her, many months ago -- and her scent -- a subtle musk, followed by sage, patchouli and nutmeg.

Your little ruse is up when you find yourself unable from nuzzling her, the little sounds of giddy joy giving you away. Ada tuts, and you feel the low vibrations of her voice in her throat, your favorite spot to cover in kisses.

"Tsk, tsk… My liege, it is much too early for you to be this playful," she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, "Don't open your eyes just yet, the world can wait. Sleep with me just a little longer."

But you were never the docile type to do what you're told -- one of your eyes opens, sneaking a glance at your lover, and you hide your face in her shirt once you're met with the full force of her gaze. Ada is right; it's too early for you to face the intensity of her affections, those red eyes of hers are a dangerous asset. They pierce straight to your heart.

"Ah, what have we here?" With one of her fingers, she traces the outer curve of your ear, the gentle feeling of her nails on your skin making your body tingle. "What a lovely shade of red, my liege. Are you cold? Hm, perhaps a little too hot?"

Scratch that, the most dangerous thing of hers is that cunning tongue of hers. It takes all of your willpower to detangle yourself from the pile of covers and blankets, if only to glare at her with feigned anger. She gifts you with her smile, one that has just the right amount of adoring and teasing to it -- it's enough to soften your resolve, and you lean forward to kiss her forehead.

"What time is it?" Ada catches your chin with her fingers as you speak, locking you in place.

There's those eyes again, looking into yours for something that you're not privy of -- this is something she does often, and it is always a gamble. More than often, you will see that smile you've come to love, but lately, something wretched, something sad and miserable, will take over Ada's features. It's subtle (you curse her perfect poker face) and it leaves as soon as it comes, but it weights heavily on your heart. What does she see that you cannot? And is it something that you can fix, for her sake? What are you lacking that is making her look so unbelievably lonely?

It doesn't matter today, because she seems to find it and she rewards you with a taste of heaven; her lips on yours, as light as a feather.

"If I told you, what do you think will happen?" When she reaches out with an open palm, you hurry to return that precious hair tie of hers, safely kept around your wrist each and every night you spend together. It is a wordless exchange, part of the domestic routine, and yet it means so much to you.

She continues speaking, your silence urging her forward.

"You will rush and scramble out of bed, tripping over everything. You will ask that I help you get dressed before anyone finds out I'm here, and you will scold me for taking so long helping you button up your shirt -- I, of course, will pretend to be innocent, stealing a kiss here and there as payment for my services. And as soon as you're the embodiment of prim and proper beauty, you will leave through that door, leaving me all alone until nightfall."

"That's -…!" The need to apologize and justify yourself builds up in your chest in the form of a sharp inhale, and then, you notice the way she's purposefully making those sad, lonely eyes at you. She got you, for a moment, she had you right where she wanted. "…That's only partially true -- you're the one who leaves, and I'm the one who waits."

"Ah, but you only say that because you know nothing of my yearning, darling. Would you like to know? The way you've made a home out of my heart and mind, rendering my pride to dust?"

This is one of her tricks, you know this. You can feel it in the way she rests a hand on your thigh, as if she's not even trying to hide it. Her true colors are on full display for you to admire, a snake tempting you to sleep in and remain in her grasp. Oh, how could you resist? Tennant shifts and moves closer, cupping your face with one hand while the other finds the small of your back. She meets no resistance from you, already at the verge of giving in to her love -- you can't deny how good it feels to be coveted, to have someone as amazing as her want you, keep you safe, like all of the diamonds and jewels under her name. This is the moment you close her eyes and allow her to dip you back onto the mattress so she can kiss you to her heart's content.

She only does the former, however; your body bounces unceremoniously as you fall back onto the pillow, your lips still puckered up uselessly, waiting for a kiss that never came. Ada laughs at this, muttering a small apology.

"I mean it, sleep a little longer." Even her command is gentle, her thumb rubs circles on your cheek. "You've earned it, my liege. Or rather, you need it. Who will keep me company should you fall ill from exhaustion? How will I sneak into your bedroom with the whole house staff alert for your sake? Fighting for your honor comes as easy as breathing, and giving you the world is as easy as snapping my fingers, but I fear my most ferocious opponent is that stubborn temper of yours."

You're done for the moment she says your name -- Ada has played all of her cards and this can only mean one thing: it is a very serious matter. But you don't understand, have you truly been overworking yourself these past few days? You don't feel tired, not at all.

But then again, there's no space for any other feeling other than love whenever you're with her. A long, drawn out and exhausted sigh escapes your lips.

"…Fineeeee. I suppose I can take a day off, as long as you spend it with me. Ada Tennant, I spoil you too much for your own good."

"Then might as well spoil me a little more -- wouldn't you say, my love?"

There is a frown on your face, one that aims to conceal your flustered state rather than show any sort of anger towards your lover. This contradiction is obvious in the way you open your arms towards her, allowing Ada to lay on top of you with her full weight and warmth. She smiles, eyes closed, like a child getting everything she's ever wished for, like someone who has finally returned home after being away so long. Her legs tangle with yours, her arms wrap around your waist, desperate in their grip.

In the early days of your relationship, you would've been in her place, begging her not to go, making her promise that she'll return safe and sound from whatever secret endeavors she commits her life to.

But now she's yours, all yours. And in turn, your heart is all hers.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 tennant #tennant #grabbing every character and making them take a nap

44 notes · View notes

yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

Note

God I just adore the red king baki like I have his VA’s voice engrained in my head and it’s just so in character and perfect🤯✨!! Pls more of him if you’re able to🥹🥹👍🏿

Ask and you shall receive! Red King Baki! The king of hearts!

Enjoy my annoying content ❤️

Yandere Baki Short Stories:

King of Hearts

Baki was pulling out all the show stoppers to show you. The red haired male flaunting off his wealth as he bit his tongue to prevent him from shouting at the servants who weren’t painting the roses the correct shade of red. He didn’t want to scare you off too prematurely.

“I have been waiting for so long to meet you, Alice!” Baki gave you a bright smile as he lead you through the red roses of his garden. “I made sure this garden was perfect and red, just for you!”

Baki lead you towards the palace, you struggled to keep up with his pace. The king slamming the doors open with a bright grin.

“You’re going to love it here! Oh I’ll need the servants to get your measurements and get you your dress!” Baki gasped as he clapped his hands together. “Hurry and get them put together!”

“Oh that’s alright-“ you were suddenly dragged into the center of the room as numerous servants with playing cards for heads began to take your measurements. Your eyes widening at the smile on Baki’s face. “Why are you fitting me for a dress?”

“Why your wedding dress of course!” Baki clapped his hands together with a bright smile. “You’re finally here in wonderland! You’re my fated one!”

You raised an eyebrow at the cheerful king who began to sing your praises. Oh lord, he was delulu.

“You’re more lovely then I could have ever imagined! I’m so, so happy you came to me first and not to the White King-“ Baki froze when one of the servants dropped the measuring tape on your foot, a wince on your face when the metal smacked your big toe. “You… You!”

Everyone, including you, froze when Baki’s whole face got red. What was going on?

“Off with your head!” Baki screamed as guards came flooding in. Hanayama being the first to grab the servant who tried to flee. His dark eyes meeting yours for a split second, his strong gaze causing you to shiver.

“I’m sorry, my liege! I hadn’t meant to-“ with a quick swipe of Hanayamam’s blade, their card like head was off their shoulders.

“Red knight! Fetch me some new playing cards. This hand is getting too boring for my tastes.” Baki waved at Hanayama who gave him a bow.

“Yes, sire.” Hanayama gave you one last lingering glance before turning on his heel and exiting the hall. Baki casting a concerned glance to you.

“Are you alright my dear? They didn’t bruise your toe did they?” Baki fretted as you tried not to cry out in fear.

You didn’t even know the tears falling down your cheeks until Baku began whipping them away. His lips shushing you as he brushed his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Shhh. It’s okay dear. I’ll protect you…”

131 notes · View notes

merakiui · 10 months

Note

⭐

Go off Queen ❤️

>:D why, thank you, my liege. Go off, I shall!!!

(ask game)

I think I'll take this opportunity to discuss Death Row Undertow's chapter seven: Kismet Kiss! Specifically the latter half involving Cater. I've put my thoughts under the cut!

I loved writing this scene (the tonal shift from Riddle's anxious meticulousness to Cater's friendly and feigned positivity is very yummy to me)! The karaoke bar that the pop music club frequents actually has a name: Siren's Heartache. Reader and Cater visit it often! That aside, this chapter shows a much more meaner side to Cater. >_< not only that, but it also illustrates his inner thoughts and feelings. For example, this section here:

Cater makes it a mission to familiarize himself with his favorite karaoke bar’s menu, but despite every food and drink combination he’s come across (some photographed and strung up on his social media and others admired from afar) he cannot stomach the sweetness. So for tonight—like most nights—he chooses something that is, as his sisters would often say, “so not cute.” Beer is his go-to, even if his carefully curated Magicam feed is adorned with photos of pastries and sugary drinks galore. Peel back the pretty wallpaper and you'll find the dollhouse is not what it seems. But festering in rot is so not cute, and so for this reason he plasters the bitter with beauty.

Cater likes to curate a certain image for himself, especially when that image is being posted to his Magicam. He does something similar in Cicada City when he takes Riddle out for boba and orders a very sugary drink (which he only photographs and doesn't drink once). In canon, it's noted that Cater is more partial to spicy flavors than sweet flavors and that his aversion to the latter is due to always having to force himself to eat the sweets his sisters would make to avoid disheartening them. Also, his sisters have a tendency to judge things based on how cute they are. I imagine this habit is engrained quite deeply in Cater, hence why in this chapter (and other chapters) you will see him referring to things as "cute" or "not cute."

Though he seems rather cruel and detached from the main issue (Reader's disappearance), there are little things to suggest otherwise. The most glaring one would be his song and its lyrics. When I wrote it, I wanted every line to hold an underlying meaning for plenty of analytical dissection. Lilia's able to read between the lines, which leads to this exchange:

Cater curls his fingers into a tight, self-assuring fist, nails pricking his palms. “Sure did. Penned by yours truly and everything! It’s still not finished, though. I’m always going back to edit, but so far that’s the most coherent draft I have. So whatcha think? It’s totally cute, yeah?” “It’s very telling,” Lilia praises with a cryptic grin. Cater doesn’t like the wisdom discreetly woven into his next words. “You can learn a lot from the speaker in the song. Some truths are best expressed in writing, after all. When we put pen to paper, left alone with but our wrist and brain, we’re usually very honest with the page.” As always, you’re a mystery, Cater thinks with a thin smile. Maybe I shouldn’t have shared it so confidently.

These lyrics are very vulnerable and personal to Cater, but he shares them anyway because he's seeking validation for the song itself (not the story told within), which Kalim gives him without touching upon the message. But Lilia's the one who sees beyond the song's cute façade, which is exactly what Cater didn't want. Of course he separates Cater and the speaker in the song when he refers to them, but both he and Cater know they are one and the same.

Cater mentions in Cicada City that, "I’m thinking it could be an energetic love song with dark undertones. Lots of people like creepy romances, and who said Halloween couldn’t start early?" but in this chapter he says it "sounds kinda pop idol." The contrast in these descriptions are unique to Cater because it suggests that previously he was content to recognize the darker aspects of the song and its story, but now he simply wants it to be "pop idol" instead. This erasure of the dark tones in the song is a parallel to how he feels currently: a stressful situation has arisen and he doesn't want to confront it head-on because it's much smoother when things are cute and sweet (or pop idol).

In other words, Cater's role in this chapter is frustrating because he's meant to be Reader's friend and yet here he is: not being a friend. But the truth is that Cater is so used to her pattern of coming and going that he doesn't see any need to worry, so he becomes a little tense when Kalim and Lilia are voicing his concerns (which he's tamped down) back to him rather than agreeing easily.

He's also quite defensive and protective of Reader, even more so when Lilia and Kalim press him on certain issues related to their relationship, often answering with, "I just know" or "I know her." Cater doesn't want to lose one of the few close friends he's ever had, so the idea that she isn't just taking leave for a few days and that it could be something far more serious is deeply unsettling to Cater. And if that's the case, it will confirm two things for him: (1) Cater doesn't know Reader as well as he thinks he does and (2) this isn't another case of crying wolf; it's something more.

It may seem like he's dismissive when he tries to get Kalim and Lilia to drop the subject entirely so they can focus on band discussions instead (and he is), but the reality is that Reader has been on Cater's mind the entire time. At the end of the chapter, he thinks, This is so not sweet. I completely forgot to take pictures for Magicam. Cater never forgets to take pictures. He actively searches for ways to snap photos at every opportunity; it's one of the things that's almost always at the forefront of his mind. He was so distracted with his own buried worries related to Reader that taking pictures genuinely slipped his mind.

So he is genuinely worried. He just doesn't want to show that side of himself because it's, in his own words, "so not cute."

#twisted chit chat #death row undertow #forgive me for rambling a lot orz #i love cater so much and his role in dru is very interesting and fun to discuss!!!

35 notes · View notes

bellarkeselection · 2 years

Text

Soulmated Stark

Request from @groovy-lady Robb Stark x fem!Reader (from a lesser House that House Stark is liege lord to) Matching Tattoo Soulmate fic. Robb and Reader are greatly encouraged to marry by the rest of the Stark family

@kittykylax @makeshift-prime @rosie-posie08

Wrapping my cloak tightly around me I entered the main hall of our house halting in my tracks at seeing Lord and Lady Stark standing beside my parents with their son Robb. Instantly I curtseye to them immediately since they are the leaders of Winterfell and my house was one of the lesser known ones in the North. My dress swaying to the side introducing myself. "Forgive me Lord and Lady Stark. I am Y/n of house L/n. What do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Robb fiddled with the end of his right tunic sleeve stepping up to me softly showing a tattoo of the direwolf the symbol of his house on his wrist. "Forgive my intrusion my Lady. But do you happen to have a mark like this on your arm?" My heart skipped a beat at his question I couldn't believe that it was real. That I wasn't going crazy when the symbol appeared on my arm when I turned sixteen years old.

I would always do my best to hide it since my parents wished to marry me off to another house so they would get grandchildren. But the direwolf looked like I favored one house over another which wasn't a good thing until now apparently. Slowly I rolled up my sleeve showing the same tattoo to the young wolf with a shy smile feeling my cheeks turning red. It would be a lie if I said I didn't have a crush on him, every girl did. But it wasn't his looks or skills with a sword that caught my heart. No it was the rumors of how kind and loving he was. Most girls that got married off to a brut or a drunk man but looking at him now I didn't get that look about him. "I always thought I was crazy when it just appeared but now I'm not. I just - I don't understand why?" Robb reached forward brushing his thumb over my right hand giving it a squeeze with a gentle smile.

"I felt the same lady Y/n. But I think I figured it out. It must be fate or destiny or some sort of bond between us." He explained glancing back to my father and his own parents waiting for them to call us crazy. When they just stand with smiles on their faces he slowly bends down on a knee causing me to gasp at his forwardness. "Lady Y/n, I am here today because of the bond we share between our matching marks. So I dare to ask for your hand in marriage and if you say no I will have my answer to if you feel the same desire for me as I do for you. So will you marry me and become the future lady Stark?" His brown eyes locked onto mine until I fling my arms around his neck kissing him suddenly. He wrapped his arms around my waist kissing me as deeply as I do him until I broke it resting my forehead against his. "Of course I'll marry you Robb. There's a desire between us that I can't ignore." He drew me in for another kiss smiling against the kiss like me. "Then let's get married as soon as possible. I don't want to wait for you any longer."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#robb stark x reader #robb stark imagines #robb stark one shots #robb stark imagine #robb stark #richard madden #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #soulmate request #soulmate #matching tattoos #requests open #send requests to my ask box #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated

176 notes · View notes

streamafterlaughter · 1 year

Text

Limo 4 Emos

playlist | main master list | part ii (coming soon!)

request: no (send a request!)

summary: you’ve been sulking for three days after breaking up with your serious boyfriend. Eddie can’t let you do that anymore, though.

word count: 3,241

a/n: in the midst of all the FD angst, i thought i’d give y’all some comfortable, fluffy, sweet eddie x y/n, this time in a more modern setting! i was inspired by the song Limo 4 Emos by Watsky, pls stream his symmetry trilogy it’ll blow ur socks off. this is a mini, but i can totally write a part 2 if y’all want some less wholesome content. let me know what u think! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

tags: modern!eddie x reader, friends to lovers, mutual pining, confessions of feelings, fluff, consumption of weed, mentions of cheating (reader was cheated on)

—

You throw a wadded tissue toward the television. You’re on your third break up movie of the day, Scenes from a Marriage. It’s been three days of chick flicks, rom-coms, and sobfests as you attempt to heal your shattered heart.

It’s dramatic, sure, but after graduating high school, and getting accepted to your dream school far, far away from Hawkins, Indiana, you really thought you had it all figured out.

Until Matt cheated on you.

You hadn’t wanted to believe it. You’d been invited out by Robin last minute, to a club you hadn’t gone to since beginning your relationship. It’s a place you’d always wanted to go, one Matt had claimed to hate, so you took the opportunity for a night out without him when he “fell ill” one Saturday night.

Sometimes you blame yourself, for not mentioning the name of the club. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have run into Matt there, sucking on the neck of some nameless girl in too-tight latex pants.

You’ve since thrown out his letters, blocked his number, and set fire to the pictures of you two while listening to Dead Horse by Hayley Williams, but your stupid heart is still broken. On top of that, now you’re smelly, grimy, and sweaty under far too many blankets as you watch Jessica Chastain and Oscar Isaac yell at each other.

Your phone buzzes in your lap intermittently, and you lazily screen the missed calls and texts:

bobbie🏳️‍🌈👹: (7:20pm) wanna see a movie? coke bear looks god awful. call me pls!

(missed call: bobbie🏳️‍🌈👹 x3)

stevie🏴‍☠️🍦: (8:00pm) hey, just got off work, need anything at target? lmk 🫶

(missed call: stevie🏴‍☠️🍦)

eddie❤️🦇: (9:55pm): come outside

You read the last message again, timestamped five minutes ago. You begrudgingly throw the mass of blankets from your body, revealing your baggiest sweatpants and your favorite giant t-shirt. You peer out your window, and sure enough the gas guzzling monstrosity of a vehicle sits outside on the curb, its engine rumbling loud enough to wake your parents. You snatch a hoodie off your floor and struggle to get it over your head. As an afterthought, you grab the half smoked joint and your lighter from your ashtray and tiptoe down the stairs.

Eddie reaches the door before you and flings it open. “Good evening, my liege.” He bows his head as he holds the door open while you climb into the van. The interior stinks of weed and cigarettes, and the tinny speakers blare Microwave’s Float To The Top, a favorite of yours that Eddie had grown fond of.

“Where we goin’?” You ask innocently, turning the volume down to hear Eddie, who’s adjusting himself in the driver’s seat.

“Wherever you want, sweet thing.” He motions to his phone plugged into the console. “And feel free to DJ.”

You gasp in mock surprise. “Why, you’re letting me pick the music? Has hell frozen over?!” You can’t finish your sentence before he’s nudging you with his elbow, his head thrown back in laughter. “Seriously, what’s the occasion?” You settle on your everyday playlist, avoiding the breakup songs list you’d been abusing. You skip over Phoebe Bridgers’s Halloween, knowing you’ll start sobbing, and instead settling on Watsky’s Limo 4 Emos.

“Please,” Eddie begins, turning onto the main road of Hawkins, the only one that runs through town. “You’ve been moping all weekend, the first weekend as a free bird! No more school! For at least three months. Even more, if I can convince you to join the band.”

You know he’s joking, but you scold him anyway. “I told you, I’m getting my degree so I can design your album covers once you’re famous. If you need another guitarist by then, we can discuss it.”

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, love. Anyway, I had to pick you up. Every time I've driven by it’s been a different sad, heterosexual couple on your TV. I’m surprised you weren’t sucked into the mattress.” You look down, suddenly fascinated by your crocs. “Hey, I didn’t mean that to insult you, y’know. I’m just worried about you. We- we all are.” There is genuine concern in his voice, and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s always been sweet to you, from the day you’d moved into the house next to Steve when you were twelve. Most of the kids were mean to you, making fun of your weird clothes or nerdy interests, but Eddie took an immediate liking to you. He sat next to you in every class, at lunch, and invited you to play with his group of friends at recess. Six years later, and he’s never not been right next to you once.

Eddie’s voice snaps your attention back to the present. “He’s a fuckin’ idiot. If I ever catch that kid at one of my shows again….” He trails off, shaking his head, and you bite back a smile. If there’s one thing Eddie will always be, it’s protective of his people.

“Hey,” You rest your hand on his shoulder, and feel him relax under your touch. “I appreciate that. And this. I needed to get out of there.” You could swear your room had shrunken.

“Of course. I kinda did it for selfish reasons anyway.”

“Oh?”

He nods. “I hadn’t heard from you in like, a week. And, in the year you two had been dating, I’d barely seen you without that parasite attached to you.” You could be mistaken, but you think you hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice. You chock it up to a hopeful coincidence.

Truthfully, it hadn’t been a great relationship. You and Matt weren’t compatible, but both of you had been lonely. If you were being fully, completely honest with yourself, there was one man you could ever want, and he’s sitting right next to you now.

You’d never be the one to tell him first, though. You’re sure Robin and Steve already know, knowing what they do about you. You’re not good at keeping secrets, especially when they involve your feelings for your best friend. You’ve never explicitly told either of them, though.

Eddie pulls into the parking lot of Hawkins Middle, and you snort out a laugh. “Holy shit.”

“Welcome back.” Eddie gestures to the brick building in front of him. “Where it all began.”

“You think?” You rummage in your pockets until you find your lighter and what is now a very crushed, unsmokable joint. “Oh, c’mon!” You groan, inspecting the bent, squashed cone.

Eddie’s brows knit together. “What did you expect us to do with that?”

“Well, it wasn’t always this fucked up!” You begin defensively, but he holds his hand up to silence you.

“Lucky for you, I have some. And it’s good stuff.” Eddie throws his arm over your seat, and your gaze lands on his jawline. Eddie’s always been beautiful to you, despite his “freakish” nature and wide range of facial expressions. You could admire the curve of his nose and the plush of his lips for hours, if you knew he wouldn’t catch you.

You whip your head back to the windshield too quickly as Eddie turns around, and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Everything okay?” He asks, trying to inspect your features, but you won’t look at him.

“Mhm, yeah. Totally.”

“Right, okay. Anyway,” Eddie flicks the lock of his metal box open, and cracks the lid to reveal a few pre-rolled joints, a grinder, and a lighter. He plucks the thickest of his collection from the box, and flicks the lighter as he brings the joint to his lips. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as the smoke fills his lungs. You take the opportunity to watch him more closely, the way the filter sits between his ring clad fingers, the tendrils of smoke escaping from between his lips and into his flared nostrils, the wrinkle in his forehead when he tries not to cough, and the shake of his head when he fails.

He holds the joint out to you, burning between his thumb and middle finger. You carefully pinch the end of the filter, and bring the paper to your own lips. You will yourself to taste the tiny remnants of Eddie’s mouth, but mostly you taste the sweet smoke and thin paper. You repeat Eddie’s ritual, inhaling deeply as your eyes slip closed, letting the flower take its hold on your brain.

Paramore’s Liar hums softly through the speakers as you and Eddie pass the joint back and forth, giggling and talking like nothing’s changed in the last six years. In a lot of ways, nothing has. Matt never liked Eddie, but that didn’t stop you from spending every Thursday afternoon at Hellfire, and every Sunday watching movies. You and Eddie were inseparable, and you had never compromised that for anyone. Matt had even asked, a few times, if you’d stop being friends with Eddie for him. You’d laughed right in his face.

If you could go back and do it all again, you’d make the same choice. Having Eddie in your life was always going to be more important.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie holds out the roach for you, and you take a puff before answering his question.

“I’m just thinkin’ about how much I appreciate you.” You muse, knowing it’s bound to feed his ego.

“Oh, really?” He takes the roach and stubs it out on the console, adding a several hundredth burn mark to it. “And why is that?”

You shrug, teasing him. “You’re just so good to me, Ed. You get me out of my house, smoke me up when I’m all sad and mopey. You know how to make me laugh.” You tick each finger as you lost out your reasons, each one tugging the corners of Eddie’s mouth higher. “I know you’d do it for any of your friends.” You finish, and meet his eyes as he shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t, though.”

“Of course you would! Remember when you took Lucas out for ice cream after his first basketball game because they didn’t play him? Or, when you set Robin up with that girl you met at The Hideout?”

Eddie holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, fine. I’m a saint! But you’re special.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m just saying, you’re just so good. I don’t deserve you.” Your voice cracks as you say it, and you clear your throat to cover it.

Of course, he notices anyway. “Are you being serious? You are the most deserving person I know. Deserving of way more than whatever his name is.”

You glare at Eddie with disapproval. “You know his name.”

“Even if I do, it doesn’t matter. Fuck him.” He spits, clenching his jaw. This isn’t some playful hatred of the loser that cheated on you, Eddie is holding some serious malice towards a guy he barely knew.

You touch a finger to where his jaw is locked, and feel his expression soften immediately, like your skin melts his tension.

“It’s okay. Shit happens.” You’re saying it for his sake, knowing how protective he can be of his best friends. He takes your pain personally.

“No, it’s absolutely not okay! You don’t just cheat on your partner. Especially if that partner is-“ He clamps his mouth shut, silencing the ramble before it had time to take off.

“If they’re what?” You’re clueless, unsure what he’d been planning to say about you. Your heart ticks faster, whether with anticipation or embarrassment, you’re yet to decide.

Eddie huffs, expelling a mass amount of air from his lungs like he’d been holding his breath all night. “I can’t. It’s not fair to you, to tell you what I want to while you’re still grueving.” Eddie looks forward, never taking his eyes off the windshield. “I could say so much, but I can’t imagine you taking it well.”

It’s your turn to huff.

“Nothing you could say will hurt me more than I’ve ever experienced.”

“I don’t know if they’d hurt you, I’m more worried about how you’d see me after I say ‘em.” He talks quickly, rushing the words that must be causing his cheeks to turn pink in the low light of the car.

You think you have an idea about what Eddie wants to say. You can’t pretend you haven’t noticed his feelings for you, even subconsciously. He likes to hold your hand, he greets you with rib crushing hugs, says goodbye with a kiss on the forehead. He lends you his jacket on rainy days, and you’ve slept in his bed more than your own in the last three years. He’s always been there, through your parents’ divorce, to your first bully, to your first art gallery feature. You’ve seen every Corroded Coffin show, been at most of their band practices, learned DnD, and started listening to heavy music because of him. The more you think about it, the more you realize why none of your relationships have worked out. The only one you’ve ever been interested in is yours and Eddie’s. Everyone else had been out of convenience, and in some cases because of similarities between your suitors and your best friend.

As you realize this, Eddie’s turning his head to watch you think. “I want you to tell me.” The tiptoeing is driving you crazy.

“Fine, but I have to preface it with something. This wasn’t some ploy to get you, or anything. I didn’t plan to feel like this when I approached you in seventh grade. That being said, it was probably six weeks before I realized I had a crush on you. I didn’t do anything about it, probably because I was thirteen with a buzz cut and body odor. I thought it would just go away as time went on. But it didn’t, so I got like, super stressed out. We started high school and you started dating Jack or something, and remember we didn’t talk for like a month?”

You snort at the memory. “His name was definitely not Jack, it was Simon. And we dated for two weeks. And dating meant walking to recess and back together, not even holding hands.”

“Yeah! And it broke my little heart!” Eddie gestures wildly as he speaks. “Anyway, you demanded we fix our friendship, so I obliged like a gentleman, thinking I couldn’t possibly still have a crush on you after that debacle. Wrong again! I was a lost puppy, wounded and limping behind you while you charmed everyone you met. It was fuckin’ torture.” He looks at you now, and you stay quiet, willing him to go on. “This is all so emo, I’m sorry. I’ve been in love with you the whole time. It’s taken me six years to say it to you, and I still chose the worst possible time to do it.”

You can hear him, but you aren’t absorbing what he’s saying now. Instead, his last words repeat in your head, I’ve been in love with you the whole time. The whole time?! “Why did it take you so long?” You’re whispering now, knowing your voice will betray you.

“I didn’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend, and I couldn’t have you thinking it was only because I had feelings for you. You’re my best friend first and forever. But it still hurt like a bitch, not being able to tell you. I’m sorry I’m telling you now, I don’t expect you to process something like this any time soon. I don’t want a response, I just couldn’t take watching someone hurt you like that. I can’t fathom being that fucking stupid. And I’m still pretty stupid.”

You furrow your brow at him. “Don’t talk about my best friend like that. You’re the furthest thing from stupid.”

“So, we’re still best friends then? I didn’t scare you away?”

You shake your head. “That’s impossible. Believe it or not, Ed, you probably couldn’t scare me off if ya tried.”

“Good thing. I’m still so sorry.”

You offer your hand, palm up to him. He rests his palm against yours, and you entwine your fingers with his. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve been waiting six years for you to tell me that.”

Eddie lurches forward, craning his neck to look you in the face that’s still facing the windshield. “Are you fucking with me? Don’t fuck with me, definitely not right now. Y/n?”

You shake your head, gnawing on your bottom lip as you think of a reasonable response. “Swear on Dustin’s mother, I’m not fucking with you.” You meet his eyes straight on, unblinking, trying to communicate your feelings through your expression. “It might have taken a little longer for me to realize it, but it’s been you. It has always been you.”

Eddie’s eyes stay glued to yours, the warmth of them sucking you in as he searches your face for any inch of doubt. When he seemingly can’t find it, he inches closer to you, his arm resting on the dusty console as he invades your personal space.

Feeling a burst of confidence as Hayley’s Crystal Clear hums from the radio, and you mirror his movements, nudging his forearm with yours as you lean closer to him.

“If you hate this, just let me know. No hard feelings.” Eddie’s voice is barely a whisper. You don’t respond with words, but nod your head dismissively and close the gap between his lips and yours. Eddie’s breath hitches as he catches your mouth with his, your lips crushing against his eagerly, something you’ve wanted since you were thirteen.

Eddie pulls away first, only moving far enough away to look at you again. His face is flushed, eyes wide as he examines your face, probably looking similarly. “Why’d you stop?” You’re brimming with confidence as he blushes, his eyes darting from your face to your hands, resting on the console.

“I had to make sure it was real.” He reaches up and pinches his shoulder. “Ow. Yeah, okay. I guess it’s real.”

“We should do it again. Y’know, just to make sure.” He looks back up at you, and you lean in without another word, connecting your lips once again. This time, you deepen the kiss, tongue swiping against his bottom lip as if to ask permission. Eddie’s lips part wider, and your tongue meets his as you slide your free hand into his hair. His own cups your jaw, his thumb resting lightly on your chin just below your lips. He tastes like smoke and chocolate, his lips soft against yours as he bumps your nose with his.

It could have been minutes or hours by the time you separate, untangling your fingers from his wild curls. “Okay,” You speak first, your voice breathy. “It is real.”

Eddie’s lips split into a beaming smile. “Yeah, shit. I’m so glad.” He exhales shakily and tucks a stray hair behind his ear.

“So,” You pause, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, “now what?”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat. “I mean, I have plenty of ideas, but-“

“I’ll do anything with you.”

“Movie at my place?”

You hope it means what you think it does. “Yeah, definitely.” You shoot your mom a text that you’re staying over Eddie’s. She sends back a “Yay! Hope he makes you feel better :)” and you respond with a heart. He already has.

#eddie x reader #modern!au #modern!eddie #gn!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fluff

35 notes · View notes

avaetin · 1 year

Text

Streamer Nico AU - Side Percy

In which Percy plays on stream and chaos ensues.

part 1

part 2

bonus

babysharkdudududu: Whoa! Percy's playing a horror game? Is the world coming to an end???

Percy: Yeah. Today, we're playing Amnesia: The Bunker. It's a new survival horror video game developed and published by Frictional Games. Now, I've played the other three Amnesia games, but not on stream. This is a special case, since I lost a bet with one of my friends. (makes quotation marks with his hands) Shoutout to Jason - Jason, you're an ass.

Pikachu: ❤️

notinfrontofmysalad: There’s the fake account

Percy: The reason why I never play horror games live-... wait. Did I just hear something...? (sees the screen getting slightly distorted) AHHHHHHH! IT'S HERE! F*CK IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE IT'S HERE IT'S HERE IT'S HERE! We're running, we're running! (character full sprinting, creating a lot of noises)(monster growling on the background) Back to the administration! Close the door, close the door, close the door!! AHHHHH!!!

Shush-I: hahaha awww poor Percy

infiniTEA: ROFL!!!

herbivore11: 😂 😂 😂

itsaboutDAMtime: LMAO!!!

Percy: (closes and locks the door) O-Okay, we'll stay here for now. (looks over at chat) Right. So as I was saying, I don't play horror games live because of this.

Pikachu: Nico would have powered through that...

number1ghostkingfan: He did! I've seen his playthrough. He's already finished it.

Percy: Of course, he has. Horror and Happy Meal run hand-in-hand in his veins. Okay, I think we're good. Let's go back out there. (unlocks the door and whimpers) I hate you, Jason. I really, really hate you for this. (sobbing)

-----

(In the background: Nico quietly entering Percy’s room. Looks at the camera and raises his finger to his lips)

Percy: (fueling up the generator) There we go! Power’s running, lights are back on. Let's go to the Prison area and take the bolt cutters.

Percy: (humming while making his way) (goes to the console and opens all the doors) (heads towards the cell where the bolt cutters and the remaining prisoner is tied up)

Percy: (prisoner starts shouting all of a sudden) No. Nonononononononono. What are you doing, my man?! My man, the monster will hear you! (lights flickering; monster growls) Oh f---!

Percy: (hides in the next cell) I don't have bullets anymore! All we have is this grenade! (brings out grenade and aims it outside cell as monster devours the prisoner in the other cell)

SpookyCookie: Ghost King! number1ghostkingfan: My liege! Pikachu: Ohoho PercicoIsMyShip: Percy, your boyfriend's behind you--- DownTheRabbitHole: Percy, behind you!

(comment section: ROFL!!!)

Percy: (whimpering while focused on the screen, waiting to throw his grenade) (monster moving towards Percy’s cell)

Percy: Hnngh! Just turn awaaaaay. There's no one here! Of course it knows I'm here. I should have taken that med kit when I had the chance! (Nico slowly moving closer to Percy’s chair)

Percy: Nononononono! (monster turns to him) (uses the grenade)

Nico: AHHHHH! (screams from beside his ear)

Percy: AHHHH! (re-aims grenade to floor in front of him) (falls off of his seat) (character dies from explosion)

Pikachu: Someone please clip that 😂

PercicoIsMyShip: @ pikachu way ahead of you!

Nico: (laughs so much, tears start coming out of his eyes)

Percy: N-NICO! NICO F-CKING DI ANGELO! (struggles to get up and chases him out)

#streamer nico au #nico di angelo #percy jackson #jason grace #pjo #i just watched someone's gameplay of amnesia: the bunker and i had to do this #they're not boyfriends btw #but if you read the other parts you'll get why

11 notes · View notes

jow99 · 1 year

Text

St Jordi and a surprise

Sunday was St Jordi or St George day. Here it is celebrated by people giving books and roses (you may recall I spoke about this at the same time last year).

We left early for a long ride with Marjolein. It was a bit of a magical mystery tour but having now done it I’d do it again, knowing where it goes. We ended up on small roads that pitched up and down and felt like they weren’t actually going anywhere.

We were home by lunchtime and then could give the Mums the books we’d bought for them. My Mum had also bought me a rose on their walk this morning ❤️

Lunch was one of our delicious rotisserie chooks and chips. The afternoon was then spent washing, packing and doing more of the jigsaw puzzle. Jose was also watching Liege Bastogne Liege.

Late afternoon we headed to the beach for a drink with Marjolein and Martijn. This will be the last time the Mums see them. We also won’t now see Martijn until June and Marjolein until we’re all in Istanbul. While we were enjoying drinks and tapas it hammered down rain (not great for my washing) but we managed to miss it all while we ate and drank.

A dinner of nibbles and an early night all round.

Monday morning the Mums headed off for their last coffee at their favourite haunt ❤️ Meanwhile we were putting their surprise into action (via a stop at the bike shop as my cable had snapped and my bike wouldn’t go into the big chain ring).

The Mums arrived home at the designated time and I met them and kept them downstairs waiting for Jose and Tessi to arrive. We had one in the front for the trip out and the other for the trip back. I had the makings for lunch with me and we headed to Lake Banyoles where we had a picnic lunch. After lunch we went for coffee in one of the close by bars and then headed home. The surprise was a great success, the Mums both loved Tessi 🥰

Jose and I then used Tess to get stuff into storage ready for our time away before Jose took her back to storage and cycled home.

Tonight we went out for a last sangria at the beach and some tapas (including croquettas, Mum’s favourite). We then headed home for dinner (which was somewhat ordinary as I’d stuffed up my measurements) with our beautiful cava that Marjolein and Martijn bought us for our wedding. We’d been saving it for a special occasion and sharing it with the Mums was pretty special.

I think we nailed the last full day in L’Escala, but there’s been a few tears and the Mums are feeling sad to be leaving.

8 notes · View notes

retro-radio · 2 years

Text

Find. Him

inspired by @knight-of-mystery royalty au! This is a gift for you! ❤️❤️❤️😍😍

The heavy footsteps pounded through the hallway.

They represented power that demanded respect at all times, “good morning your majesty” Maritza said bowing deeply watching as their ‘ beloved ’ king marched past seemingly not even acknowledging her. He was a self absorbed narcissistic asshole who would tell his face from the ass of a donkey. She had been working at the castle for a few years now. She had seen first hand how brutal and ruthless king Theodore could be. He had so much of the kingdom under his thumb and would execute people in cruel and humiliating ways. He burned down villages and looted whoever the hell he wanted. She received a grunt as a reply as Ted kept marching through the halls, throwing open the double doors to the throne room.

“GUARDS!” He practically screamed as he sat down on his throne resting his hands in his lap. an older guard who was middle aged walked into the hall and stood tall in front of him while a younger lanky guard ran after him before skidding to a halt, their suits of armour clunking slightly ‘imbeciles’ Ted thought watching as they both bowed deeply showing their respect, “Any information on the…situation?” He asked the taller guard shook his head “no my liege” quickly pulling the younger one to stand straight growling out a “behave”. Ted gripped his brow and let out a deep sigh. “Have you put up posters? Set rewards and ask around the town? '' he asked the guards. He groaned when they both nodded.

There were alot of poor people in this kingdom so someone was bound to go after the reward “I want you to up the reward to ten thousand shillings.” Both of the guards looked at each other before one decided to speak. “Sir…are you sure?” he asked nervously, biting his lip. Theodore leant forward in his chair the guard that spoke, he was the younger one and Ted had never bothered to learn his name shifted uncomfortably under his piercing gaze his toxic green eyes stared into the soul of the poor boy who desperately tried to avert his gaze the other one giving him the look of ‘you are screwed’. No one ever questioned Theodore and he wanted to keep it like that. “Find. Him” he punctuated each word he leant back, the guard gave a small sigh of relief and went “y…yes your majesty” he squeaked off running out the doors…and straight into a plant pot.

Theodore turned to the other and went “make sure he doesn't cause…any problems” wincing as he heard a loud smash and a hasty “sorry!” The guard bowed and nodded and in a gravelly voice said “of course” before running out the door, one yelling orders and demanding that someone accompany them on the journey.

After they both left Ted stood up and walked onto his balcony that overlooked the guards and soldiers training…his pawns. The air was filled with daggers, kicking, dust and a few yelps of pain. He had this kingdom by the neck and he wasn't ever letting it go. He had worked too hard for this for one piece of shit to tear it all down. Nicholas Michael Roth was described as a twenty-three year old male with soft brown hair and chocolate eyes on the posters around the town. He was a guard who turned rogue and ran away from the kingdom…taking his son with him. Aaron was the heir to the throne and was the one who would take on the duty of ruling the kingdom with an iron fist. He would produce another heir who could rule in the future. The cycle would never end!

But He messed it up. The boy was a common thief that had saved his son from being shot by bow and arrows. Some hooligan in the street wanted to cause a bit of havoc, probably a rebel who wanted to end the Peterson line. Theodore wouldn't have cared if they succeeded or not Aaron was a pawn to him on a political chessboard that he could easily get rid of himself if he needed to.

He had a daughter Mya who would be queen if she was needed. However, keeping Aaron alive was in his long-term interests...for now at least. Aaron knew he was in an arranged marriage but he had defied him and ran off with that knight anyway! After meeting Nicholas Aaron became more disobedient and would run off or not attend certain duties more often. It was all Nicky's fault! He was the one who made his son disobey him. Everything was Nicky's fault and he was going to execute him as soon as he got his hands around his skinny neck.

Theodore's office was covered in posters all with his face on it with daggers sticking into them. His wife was becoming increasingly concerned about his ‘obsession’, as she liked to call it. The money he had spent just to try and locate the boy was growing significantly. It didn't matter who he had to bribe or threaten for information; he just wanted him and his son back alive so he could dispose of Nicky himself.

Theodore watched the knights for a few more seconds before turning on his heels and walking back into the throne room sitting down once again. He observed the family portrait above the fireplace; it had once held a portrait of Theodore's siblings, all five of them but they all ‘mysteriously’ died or ended up missing. Nicky had once thrown a bowl of soup at the portrait when he was drunk and Ted would have strangled him right there and then if it wasn't for him getting his way out of situations and into his son's heart. Ted would have disposed of him the first day they ever met. He kept staring, smiling at the silver-framed portrait.

Nicholas' head would make such a lovely wall mount.

#hello neighbor #hello neighbor au #aaron x nicky #nicky roth #Royalty au!#*smiles and blows a kiss* A gift for you!#Ted is a asshole!#I wanted a goofy guard #I tried my best!#Enjoy

13 notes · View notes

wastrelwoods · 2 years

Note

E for “every hateful instrument” (one of my all-times faves by the way), K, M and R for the fanfic writer ask game! ❤️👀

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

AH yeah i saw u put EHI on a rec list and i had to get up and jog in a circle around the room a half dozen times HELL YES HELL YES! if there WERE to be a sequel i think it would be fun to maybe play with a reversal of the vassal and lord dynamic? i feel like i could get them into a situation where will has a crown on his head and hannibal is standing behind him in a cloak and armor looking imposing and devoted to his liege. OR i would elaborate a little on alana and how getting shoved off a balustrade impacted her. also i think she and freddie are together now. lady of ravenstag and her spymaster. that's cute, right? id read that

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

HM i havent come up with one that i feel inclined yet to write but i do enjoy a thematically resonant major character death of tragedy is the correct genre so if i were to go for it that would probably be the direction. i guess i DID play in that space with qui tollis peccata mundi but it wasnt FOR TRUE

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

WELL as i said i have a lot of ideas sitting around waiting to be worked on. there's a bigger mizumono divergence one i'm waiting for the right time and energy to take on and for right now i just jot down ideas about it when they strike me but i would love to make it more ensemble focused and like. rotating POVs and following a few concurrent intersecting character arcs. and also clarice starling is there ? hopefully that pans out one day

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

OOOH yeah i mean i do a lot of imitating the tone of the show as much as i can more than really getting into outside literary influences but other fanfic writers DO get me hooked on trying new things based on stuff i admire about their work. my partner sarah (@howlikeagod) is one of my favorite writers ever (she does not go to hannibal specifically) for the way she takes big adventurous creative swings with format and always knows the right place to insert the funniest bit i have ever seen in my life. insofar as hannibal writers i think emungere's work with dialogue and the way every spoken word carries paragraphs of weight is so so cool? i love chaparral-crown's magic realism and the introspective asides? i think zipegs crafts the most evocative imagery and has a way of making the setting work as a living and breathing character and i love his STUFF. kissing that beautiful brain. lectercunt and h0neybeebear write so well together in complimentary ways and i happen also to love their prose individually its so rich with detail. im saying a lot but there's a lot of good writers out here i lick my chops at like a cartoon wolf

#could NOT narrow that down oops oops #pigeon post

3 notes · View notes

syrma-sensei · 2 years

Text

→ Pleasure Services

original art by: spaceboykenny

This one-shot is dedicated to my dear friend: @hoeforreiner, hope you like it, hun 😚❤️

→ attack on titan masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

pairing: gladiator!Reiner Braun x mistress!reader

setting: Ancient Rome AU

rating: dark, explicit.

warning: slavery, angst, dom reader, humiliation, twisted games...

word count: 5.2k

Every month, a grand game took place in a vast court, bestowed with the presence of Emperor Fritz and his wife, Empress Ymir and their two eldest daughters: Maria and Rose, whereas little princess Sina was too young to behold such event; a gruesome one at the point.

Well-trained gladiators were to fight, most of times to the death, to entertain an applauding and profuse crowd. Most of them were slaves of Marley soldiers, traitors, criminals, or previous disobedient house slaves that their masters were tired of them.

You were a famous Mistress to hold such business, you took it after your father, it was profiting and delightful to you. The money you earned from the gambles on the warriors you had — you had the best of all. Unlike the other masters, you didn't welcome any slave to your training grounds. They should be fitting, meet your high standards, and you were generous enough to let them live a luscious life before the possible fatality on court. But they were vicious and capable, they had never disappointed you before.

Dressed in your silky robes that oozed wealth made upon the shoulders of those vigorous men, you swayed your way left and right, stuttering your power and opulence. Your laced, leather sandles tapped against the marble floor as you sauntered down the vaunted corridors, on your way to the lavish seat within the crowd, very much close to the royal family's cabin, your father wouldn't dream of it, but you earned that place.

“Lady (L/N),” A gruff voice came from behind you.

You bowed to the large man, “Your Majesty,”

“I expect your infamous gladiator is up to a fight today, isn't he?”

You couldn't help the smirk on your lips, “Of course, Your Majesty, as you'd requested,”

“Good,” He gave you an amused smirk of his own, “Many thanks, Lady (Y/N),”

It was several days ago, when you received a message from the Emperor himself, marked with his royal seal, requiring you to put that gladiator on the next game. You didn't entertain the idea really, because he was precious to you and you didn't want to let him go to waste on games. But you couldn't turn off a liege's order, could you? Furthermore, you were absolutely certain of your slave's capability, and whomever his competitor was, he'd strike him down with ease. You smirked.

Following the sovereign and his wife and daughters, you took your seat, right beneath the royal box, and among the highest of the high, waiting for the tournament to start.

You watched Lady Mikasa Ackerman, sitting next to you after she startled a bit at your presence. She and you weren't on best terms to say the least. You two were vicious rivals to get on top, and perhaps her inheritance and being an Ackerman, a noble family and close to the royals, gave her quite the advantage. One would certainly know that you wouldn't have a chance against her, but again you proved that allegations to be wrong.

“Lady Mikasa,” You acknowledged her out of courtesy; you knew your manners well.

“Lady (Y/N),” She said, voice curt and unamused as she sat beside you.

It'd always been like that, ever since you climbed your way to the top and almost knocking her off of it. She always — and unabashedly — showed her disdain for you, given you weren't born of noble blood like her. But it amused you, and it did too much. How you, a mere mistress could unsettle her greatly, that when you decided to mess with her.

“A word of mouth says that your slave, Jaeger,” Her instant flinch didn't go unnoticed by you, “is visiting whorehouses, not that it's truly a big deal, but they say he terrorises the poor whores with unspeakable deeds,”

You watch her jaw clench. Good. She was taking the bait, and nothing could bring you more pleasure.

“Eren,” She called her slave by his name, and it was utterly normal, but the way she said it with was ardent almost... intimate. “isn't doing anything of the sort, and I hope you don't believe to those filthy rumours,”

Ah, here she was again, trying to mask her anger beneath false cordiality. But you knew better.

“Of course, Your Ladyship, I just said what I said to warn you, I know how Jaeger is valuable to your business, and such words might damage his popularity amongst the audience, and we don't need that, no?”

She forced a smile as she gazed at you, “Thank you, Lady (Y/N), I appreciate your... consideration.”

“Of course, my lady, of course,”

However, rumours didn't include that Jaeger was fucking whores, but Lady Mikasa herself. Rumour had it that the slave and his mistress were in having an affair, and if that turned out to be true, it would lead the both of them to a very unpleasant place.

The herald's strong voice boomed, over powering the crowds' chattering and screaming.

“Behold, Their Majesties, Emperor Fritz and Empress Ymir, and Their Highnesses, Princesses Maria and Rose.”

The crowd barked and applauded as the royalty made it to their cabin, waving their hands to the people. Fritz was doing it vivdly, while Ymir was more forced into it, and the young princesses were doing their utmost best to do what they ought to do.

After taking their seats, Fritz gestured his hand to the herald.

“Today's game should include the fight that each one of us has been waiting for,” The herald hollered, “It is between two of our most favourite fighters; fierce they're known, and merciless when it comes to death...”

The intense silence, the anticipating eyes, the boiling bellies, the thumping hearts, you enjoyed it all.

“The man who was a general in our army, the one who betrayed us, the sinner who's seeking forgiveness,” The herald's voice was strong, unrelenting, “Ladies and gentlemen, with His Majesty's blessio, I present to you; the Armoured Titan, Reiner Braun!”

A very cheerful applause followed as the gladiator came out from the gates.

A very contented smile quirked your lips as you saw your warrior, board and chin up, an aggressive expression adorning his handsome face, his muscular and huge body cladded in an elegant armour, that you personally had chosen. The cheer satisfied you greatly; Reiner, although being accused of military treason, he'd gained grand popularity amongst the people and won their hearts, as if he had done nothing before and that was all because of you and how you presented him; a sinner looking for a remission for his gruesome deeds, and from the mad clapping and cheering, you knew you made a very damn good job at it.

“His rival to victory today is, our favourite local man, who's been accused of murdering his masters, seeking freedom of slavery,” You glanced at Mikasa next to you to find her... anxious. You raised and amused eyebrow and puckered your lips up in a sickening grin. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you also, the Attack Titan, Eren Jaeger!”

A loud cheering followed, almost as rowdy as the one they did for Reiner.

Eren came out of the gates as well, with his long, brown hair, and fierce, green eyes. Unlike your warrior, he didn't wear anything but a topless tunic, a piece of groin protection, and a pair of sandals. His tan skin was glowing feverishly under the sun.

The two warriors approached near to the royal box and bowed, “We who are going to die, salute you!”

The Emperor nodded at them both, “Let the game begin!”

•••

“You did well today, Reiner,” Your fingertip ghosted on the skin of his chest, teasing and mischievous, “You made me proud, my warrior, and your Mistress deems you worthy of a reward tonight,”

After the game had ended, with Reiner as the winner, and after smashing Eren's jaw, and the crowd losing their mind over the scene, you took Reiner back to your quarters in your palace, and tended his wounds all yourself. That whore's gladiator had stabbed a spear through your precious Reiner arm, but fortunately, it didn't hit a main vessel. You smiled, despite his arm becoming useless during the fight, he had managed to win.

You could feel him shiver under you hands, you giggled, “Wouldn't you like it?” Leaning your face in, you took a lick of his already erected nipples, “To let your Mistress pamper you, her brave and strong slave?”

Gulping hard, he looked into your eyes pleadingly, just like you taught him; when he wanted to beg something of you, he had to say it with him gazing at you in the eye.

“Y-Yes, milady,” He nodded hesitantly, “I'd love to have you pampering me... although I don't deserve it.”

His face snapped to the side as your palm connected to his cheek. “Slaves don't have a say in what they deserve, their masters decide it, and when I say you deserve something, then you indeed deserve it,”

Reiner's head dropped in shame, “I crossed my lines, I apologize, milady,” He was now on his knees before you, “Please forgive me,”

You grasped his stubbled chin gently, tipping his head up to lock his eyes with yours.

“Forgivness must be earned, Reiner,” You said, playfulness screaming out of your voice, “Don't you agree?”

Finally, you saw him smile, exhaling deeply from his lungs, picking up too well on what you were hinting at. So, with shaky hands, he caught your hips so lightly as if he was afraid his callous hands would hurt you, “Will milady allow this slave to please her?”

You smirked, “Yes, but don't you dare mess this up,”

“Of course, milady,”

He was on feet again, towering over you before sweeping you in his arms delicately. Reiner put you on the foot of the large bed, kneeling on the floor before you. One firm hand grabbing the hem of your robe, sliding it up to reveal the delicious skin of your legs.

“So divine,” He whispered, kissing your ankle with his warm lips.

“Do you see me a goddess, Reiner?” You asked as your elbows carried your weight up, rising your upper body in order to watch him.

His lips trailed a line of kisses on your leg, strong hands around your ankles pulling you closer to his head.

“You're my goddess, milady,” He made sure to say that with eye contact as he teased your inner thigh.

You sighed deeply, his thumbs circling on your skin so slowly, so softly.

“Worship me then,” You said, a challenging hint tinting your tone, “Show me how obedient of a devotee you are,”

And with that you splayed your legs a bit, puckering your lips into a haughty smile, and he smiled back, lifting an eyebrow amusedly.

Reiner leaned in again, pressing his face into the crook of your hip, nuzzling his nose into it, and your head snapped, and you burst out laughing.

Reiner felt his heart flutter at your voice, and you felt the smile on his lips as he dug down to your mound. Reiner made sure to tease your skin first, kissing and licking on your outter labias and rims of your slits, taking sick pleasure of hearing you moan and mewl his name over and over.

“Gods!” you snapped, gripping on his hair hard, “Get over it already, Reiner,”

And so he did.

The warrior buried his face into your slit, his nose brushing to your clit whereas his tongue licked all the way up your hole. The pressure made you explode.

“Ah... Reiner...” Your hands tightened, one on his hair and the other on the sheets.

Reiner wasn't only an expert in splitting his rivals' throats on court, rather his tongue was also pretty adept on splitting you open down there. His master tongue brushing your small labias left and right, kissing fondly on the hood of your thrilled bud, before inserting it, dripping wet with his saliva and your juices, inside of you.

“Gods above, Reiner!” You hummed, head digging back into the mattress, coils tugging at the tip of your stomach. “R-Reiner... hah.. Reiner you bastard... k-keep going,”

Your thighs sqeezed his head, a desperate attempt of you to cease the fireworks between them, but to no avail. He cooed against your cunt, his voice vibrating against your flesh.

Reiner's tongue was diligent, relentless as he fucked you through spit and slicks. Your were his ambrosia, already tasting it like the gods above. And when you came in a powerful spasm, with a scream of his name, he lapped your cum, tongue pressing against your swollen clit and drawing every wave out of your orgasm.

Your legs shook, and your eyes closed shut, as he seized your cunt between his lips and began to suck. You tried to push his head away, you needed to recover, he was in no place to fuck you dumb just by his tongue.

“S-Stop!” Unlike the heartless lady you were, your word came out as whine, a pathetic sound of begging. You were triggered.

“Stop it!” You pushed your gladiator's head away, well he obliged to your demand to be exact. Your cunt pulsing and shivering, missing the warmth and wetness of his mouth. Reiner was practically making out with your pussy, and you fucking liked it. He was a damn good kisser, upper and lower lips, he could take care of them very thoroughly.

Through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving up and down, you glared at him. He was smiling, giddily. His chest was heaving too, excited. You shivered when he licked you off of his lips, his tongue brushing teasingly on his skin.

The bastard, does he seriously have the notion that he can overpower me?

You clicked your tongue, and Reiner's face dropped.

“Is something the matter, milady?” You could sense the urgency in his voice.

The audacity, he even has the nerve to ask!

You tsked again, “I don't think you quite understand, Reiner.” You lifted yourself up, surging forwards down to his handsome face, cupping his cheek, “When I tell to stop, you stop,”

“I-I... I'm terribly sorry, milady,” He puffed air in a light chuckle, “I got carried away, and I couldn't help myself... I love pleasuring you,”

“Oh, really?” Your mouth quirked into a sly smile, “Tell me, Reiner,” He quivered as you played with his dirty blond hair, “Are the other slaves privileged as such?”

His eyes never leaving yours, “No,” Reiner clasped your hand on cheek, and kissed your palm. “I'm forever in debt to you, milady,” He whispered.

“So, you accept doing this just to repay your debt, Reiner?”

“No!” He almost yelled that, “Not at all; I'm well aware I cannot do that. I-I know my place too well, milady,” His eyes locks with yours again, just to detach away again, “I-I... dare not say what motivates me to keep going on this,” A fierce blush smeared his face pink.

You giggled, tapping his shoulder, “It's alright, Reiner, to admit the needs of your flesh,” You fondled his cheek gently with your fingertips, “Your Mistress is generous enough to let you indulge yourself in that regard, as long as you make that bitch cry by beating that her slave's arse up,”

An image of Lady Mikasa falshed through your mind. When she hysterically screamed when her fighter — lover — was down. The idiot whore, she even begged the sovereign to stop Reiner from delivering the final blow to save Eren's life. And the monarch obliged, even though he was experiencing an unmatched euphoria from watching the fight, that even his wife or any other whore could never give him.

You knew why he spared his life; he wanted to see more of Reiner and Eren's fighting.

Reiner chuckled, shaking his head, “Although what milady implies is utterly correct, but there's something more to it,” He dropped his head again, “And I'm afraid I'm in no place to divulge it,”

Reiner's head snapped again to face you, when he heard you hum so beautifully, his lower lip shuddered.

Reiner closed his eyes shut, and you could've sworn you could hear his heart pumping in his ribcage so vigorously.

“I told you, Reiner, it's not your place to decide it, so, come on,” You crossed your legs haughtily, lips curling into an amused grin, “Do tell me, what's your secret motives, other than your carnal needs,”

He finally opened his eyes, somehow gathering the courage to utter, “I harbour feelings for you, milady,”

You giggled again, and he pouted; you were taking sick pleasure in this, and you fucking knew it.

You passed a fingertip on his cheek, “What kind of feelings, Reiner, hm?”

He licked his lips, frustration covering his face, you saw his bulged Adam's apple sway up and down as he swallowed hard.

“Respect, loyalty, and... and even... perhaps l-love,”

The frightened yet anticipating expression he drew on his face was priceless, and your smirk dilated.

“I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry, I-I shouldn't have said tha — mmmhhhmm...”

Reiner rough arms brushed against your silky robe as he held you close in his hold after you practically jumped onto him. Your arms around his neck, lips syncing and smooching urgently. He couldn't stop his hands from ramming down your back, even to your arse, circling his palms on your hips and sides.

Your lips were hugging in amatory, tongues dancing leisurely, before he wrapped his lips around your tongue and started sucking on it. You hummed in delight, rolling yourself on top of him, as he grazed your chin then going back up to your mouth.

Your lips popped and clicked in the most wet, salacious sounds, sneaking through your bodies lithely. With each sound, you could feel your folds wring and throb in need, and more slicks smearing your already dirty robe.

When you two broke the kiss, his gaze held yours, and he dared to grab the hem of your dress, sliding it up your head, putting it aside, revealing your body to him.

“My sweet lovely goddess,” He uttered breathlessly, and before he could steal your lips again in another kiss, you drew back, your glorious body retreating up to the bed. And while doing so, your eyes never left his, inviting glint gleaming within your eyes, and he gladly accepted. It wasn't his place to say no after all, was it?

He followed you to bed, after slipping his leather sandals off.

His hazel eyes rammed your body, vehement and intense, and you noticed the hitch in his breath. You allowed him to top you, to entertain his needs of pleasing you. Reiner's killer hands, as rough as they were, were nothing but smooth on your skin, and his lips made wonders on your body.

Your figure sank into the fluffy mattress, his overly skilled hands were sending you to the edge, coaxing purring moans and whispers when he lavished your neck and breasts. But when you sensed him going down there again, you stopped him, then you sat up, and pushed him on his back, straddling his toned abs.

You giggled at his perplexed expression.

“H-Have I done something wrong, Goddess?”

Another giggle, swiping the tip of your forefinger on his muscled chest, “Not at all, but on the contrary...” Your smile didn't budge when you hunched over to whisper in his ear, “You're being a very good boy, Reiner,”

And gods above, you could feel his entire body jolt beneath you. The cotton loincloth that was left on was painfully straining his cock.

“Please — ugh...” His panting voice turned into a heavy grumble when you curled your small hand around his clothed manhood, a wet line of pre-cum already moistened the loincloth.

“M-Milady... please...” Reiner's rasp voice came out hushed, breathless, as he shamelessly begged you, and you trembled, delightful chills crossing your body, your twisted side was enjoying this; having a fierce warrior, a brutal one, imploring you to touch him, grope him, feel him, to let you have him whole.

“Good boy, Reiner,” You stroke his clothed cock harder, “Good boy, my strong, beautiful warrior,”

And that was the last straw; you felt wetness dampening the piece of clothing, seeping through the cotton to reach your hand; your eyes dilated. The latter twirled his head to the side in shame, dark hues of red rising on his face.

“D-Did you just release, Reiner?” You said in utter disbelief.

“No! I-I mean yes,” He said bashfully, still not facing you, “I-I'm so sorry... I didn't mean it to be fast!”

You were silent for a moment; your gladiator was full of surprises ideed. For all you knew, Reiner was into be shackled and tied up, being at command like an eager dog. You used to put a choker on his neck, and tell him how needy of a slave he was. Tying him up to your bed and having your way with him. You told him profane and filthy things, about how slutty he was, and slap him in the face for daring to hint at disobedience, and he liked it, you used his guilt and regret against him, making him think of himself worthless, and only you who could provide him value. You relished in it too far, using him, mentally and physically, for your own pleasure. But that was the point of slaves, wasn't it? To serve their masters with everything they could? And you were generous enough to seek what pleased him too, and Reiner loved to be humiliated and debased, to be treated like trash, for he was trash, and that was why he turned into a slave in the first place, to atone for his sins, he had betrayed the empire, and killed one of his comrades, Marco Bodt, in the process.

But did you give two shits about the matter? Absolutely not. Reiner was a military man, a brute beast in the battlefield, and today he managed to beat Mikasa's gladiator, and he did it to make his Mistress happy. He was about to charge the final blow but that slave's bitch of a mistress broke the rules and saved her precious warrior. And you couldn't be any happier, to break her resolve and freak her out. She wasn't on top anymore, and you got an approving from the emperor himself.

You burst into laughter, making him whip his head towards you, “Aww, my fierce warrior loves to be praised by his Mistress, how adorable,”

And it was indeed; the blood of his competitor was still on his wrappings, the ones you discarded aside to personally tend his wounds by yourself. But here he was, with his huge and broad structure, rendered helpless under your touch, and begging for more.

“Milady... please forgive me,” He kissed the pad of your palm, “I j-just lost control of myself,”

A wide smile cracked your mouth, patting his cheek.

You chuckled heartily, “That's where you're wrong, darling,” You back sloped down, “You never were in control, Reiner,” Another chuckle, licking one his nipples, you knew how sensitive they were, “I am,”

Reiner hissed both in pain and pleasure, and you took one nipple in your mouth, and the other being twisted harshly between your thumb and forefinger.

“F-Fuck...” Reiner's eyes rolled back, “Milady, please... please... ghhh,”

You drew back; you wanted to look at him, and he was in a pathetic state. You giggled, cupping his cheeks again.

“You're going to promise me, Reiner,” You bit on your lower lip, “You're going to show me how strong you are, just how I taught you before, hm?”

Reiner's eyes flew open, carrying his upper body on his elbows, when he felt your nimble fingers unfastening his lower cloth.

“Wait, wait! please, I'm not ready ye — fuck!”

His head snapped backwards, feeling your warm tongue lapping the underside of his hard cock, reaching the weeping tip then wrapping your lips around it. Reiner hiccuped when he gazed down at you. But like you taught him, he stood still, clenching the sheets underneath him. Damn, the cuffs would have made it easier to him in this case, he didn't trust what his hands might do, and he'd be damned if he disappointed his mistress.

Your lips let go of him with a wet sound.

“Behave.” Your eyebrows knitted in a playful hug, and he nodded frantically, the apple of his throat bulging conspicuously as he swallowed hard.

You nodded approvingly before taking him in again, deeper this time. Reiner was huge everywhere, and his cock was no exception; you were having a bit of trouble to adjust him in. But you did eventually, of course you did. Reiner was your slave, and you'd be damned if you, his owner, couldn't take him in.

Reiner squirmed; your tongue swirling and twirling around him so adroitly, and his breathing grew ragged.

“M-Milady, please... AH!”

A wicked smile slipped into your lips even though you were tearing up, and then you sucked him, hard, and by the incoherent, guttural sounds he was making, you knew he was raving with pleasure.

Your drew your face back a little only to plunge him deeper, your nose being tickled by the blond hair, his balls slamming your chin. You reached out for his hands, and you interwined your fingers with his, as you bobbed your head over and over, making his tip scratch the back of your throat.

Reiner's hands clasped harder on yours, “Milady, please, please, I'm... I'm going to...”

That was when you slipped out, lips and chin already stained with pre-cum and spit.

With half-lidded eyes, hazel orbs gazing at you with beseech.

“You want to have release, Reiner?”

The latter gulped, nodding, “Yes, yes, I want it so bad... please...”

“Then have it inside of me, warrior,” You poked his nose, “Show me what you can do,”

Reiner nodded again, almost eagerly this time, and he surprised you by grabbing your hips, flipping you on the mattress and topped you. You giggled cheerfully, waiting for him to ravish you, and Reiner didn't disappoint you. Such a good boy.

Reiner's body dwarfed you, and you allowed yourself to feel safe with him. Slaves were dangerous. You worked as a mistress for long enough to work it out, and what you had with Reiner was even more dangerous. To have a sexual relationship with one of your slaves, to let him be in your personal bed, it was a great jeopardy. Not that it was frowned upon of course, for the masters were allowed to have their slaves as they pleased. But those slaves were free one of those days, and certainly, some of them yearned for freedom. But you knew Reiner wasn't one of them; the man relished in being a slave, your slave in that regard, and you made sure to ruin him, to make him attached to you by owning him in all aspects.

It began in purely animalistic kind of way. You found in him the perfect servant in bed; you'd had always a thing for tamming big, puffed men, to have them begging at your feet, but Reiner, fuck, you didn't even need to break him; he was already broken with shattered soul, and had no ounce of defiance.

You could sense the uncertainty in your gladiator's hands, so, you grabbed and led them to your tits, and he obliged, kneading and massaging them assiduously. Hushed mewls slipping through your lips, tough thumbs caressing your nipples.

“Reiner...” Arms encircling his powerful neck, pushing his head forwards, burying it into your breasts, and Reiner obliged, he deluged your mounts that teared you up.

“Reiner...” You bit on your lower lip, “Put it in... put it in... nhhhm,”

Reiner buried his face into the crook of your neck, and sleeved himself within your hungry walls impatiently. You plundered his lips, sloppy and lazy kisses as he pounded inside of you untill his tip kissed your cervix nuzzily. Nails digging into his flesh, and meat blunging from between your fingers, drawing blood out as you marked him yours.

“M-Milady...” He whispered next your ear, pinching his eyes shut, “I'm close...”

“So am I-I — nah!” Your orgasm hit you, unraveling the tight knot coiling at the tip of your stomach, and Reiner followed you, painting your insides white with his profuse seed.

You took him in your arms when you were finished, caressing his face so gently, “Good job, Reiner, good job...”

And while stroking his hair you wondered, would you act like Mikasa if he were on the edge of death, or would you let him die like any other slave you had had?

•••

Reiner Braun was a sinner, and he was fully aware of that fact. Marco's ghost still hunted him within the nights, depriving him of sleep and rest. Except those amazing nights he had with his mistress, his alluring and beautiful mistress.

Reiner had fallen deep for you, he knew it was kind of illicit type of love, but he fell for you hard, another sin into his record wouldn't make a difference, he thought. But what would certainly make a difference was the consequence of what he was about to do.

Reiner made his way to the infirmary where Eren was attended. He walked into his room to see the later up and about already, but with swollen jaw.

“Reiner,” Eren acknowledged.

“Eren,”

“You're certainly not here to apologize for almost killing me. So, what brings you here?”

“Indeed I'm not,” Reiner exhaled through his nostrils, “I want to speak about the rebellion,”

Eren raised his brows, “What about it?”

Reiner shook his head, gulping, “I'm out,”

“Gods above! Reiner what in the fucking gods' names are you talking about?!”

“I can't keep on it,” Reiner's face turned solid, “I don't want to anymore,”

Eren's green eyes were dilated, but then he scoffed, “A true slave you are,”

It happened years ago, when he and Eren were still freshly enslaved for their crimes, the latter approached him with a mad plan to revolt against the masters, to get rid of this cycle of slavery once and for all, convincing him it was the only way he could atone for his crimes. Eren had hit a very sensitive string that day, and Reiner accepted almost immediately.

The plan was to get close to the masters and gain as much as they could of power and influence within them. And it worked; the rumours about Eren and his mistress were true, they were actually in an affair, so were you and Reiner. But unlike Eren who was in control and never wavered from his determination to be freed, Reiner leant in and gave up. He had fallen in love with his own enslaver, his now lover, and last night, he felt it. He dared to feel the kindle of love you had for him. That was where Reiner realized his truth; he never wanted to be forgiven nor atoned, he only wanted to he loved as the sinner he was.

“I think I am...”

#reiner smut #shingeki no kyojin reiner #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner imagine #reiner supremacy #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot smut #attack on titan smut

224 notes · View notes

lilac-den · 2 years

Note

Can we have a snippet of Enid and MC after they're married? 🥺❤️

Warning: I wasn't sure if there is a gender neutral term for Lord and Lady, so I have to use Your Excellency or maybe even Liege for this. ;; If anyone has a better word for it, please let me know!

Also, had to change the line a little because it just doesn't seem to fit Enid's style XD

Enid Caespes is a woman of class.

A woman of intrigue.

More withdrawn and silent than Maverick, she is the very definition of a wallflower as she eavesdrops, spies and observes the ropes and bridges of nobles from one after the other. It's how she grasps the latest rumors upon the ton.

So to hear her spouse's name out of the lips of some neanderthal, spewing some offensive nonsense about them being a commoner and being frightening due to the backing of Grand Nature, it leaves Enid seething.

She's been trying to stomach through the evening and stay neutral. Not because of her position as a noblewoman, no. If anything, Enid would have pulled out blackmail or the like.

But because of how [Name] is enjoying the food, she has to resist.

"Mmph...!" Speak of the Devil, she thought. She turns on over to her spouse, who has come down to sit next to Enid with a small plate of little cakes. Nobilities are more on socializing and dancing than food and drinks, unlike how commoners and mercenaries work. But [Name] has been a bit of a foodie, so their preference is quite unorthodox for the more conventional nobles. [Name] turns to Enid and flashes a smile. "Enid, you need to try this tiramisu."

"You're going to drown in sugar before the night ends."

[Name] scoffs. "Please, you would too if the choice is this," they gesture subtly to the dancing people, who have taken the center of the ball and attract the eyes of the people, "or that."

Enid rolls her eyes, but she doesn't deny it - she really would rather go back home and spent the rest of her evening having dinner with [Name] or work.

Or both - going out on a nightly sneak with [Name] in the name of investigation before going to a tavern to eat.

"Lady Caespes, what a lovely surprise!" Enid cringes and she glances over. A woman has come up to them now, dressed in a white and blue gown and an eye-catching ornament on her hair. "Why, I was worried you wouldn't be coming tonight. I thought you were stacked at work."

"I was, but I received an invitation I couldn't refuse."

Two immovable forces were there when she received the invitation. One had been Maverick telling Enid it was a royal ball of the King's birthday. Another is the cruel incentive Ittania told her, putting the thought of [Name] being excited about the food.

Oh, and showing off their marriage. There was that too.

"Who might you be?"

Enid moves a hand to [Name]'s thigh with a reassuring touch, trying to calm them from the cautious tone in their voice. Enid approves of it, of course - what strange noble who they never met would come up to the two of them without addressing themselves first?

"I believe we weren't introduced." The woman curtsies, "I am Countess Briss."

Ah. Enid has heard of the countess; sister of another count and wife to Count Briss, a vassal of House Caespes. It was said she had returned to the capital after leaving for a vacation a year or two ago for health reasons.

Word on the street is that she has been trying to match her brother to someone of higher status.

"I couldn't help noticing you just sitting with your companion, Lady Caespes." The Countess observes, "How about a dance with my brother? Surely you need to have a little fun! A woman of your stature shouldn't be loitering with a companion."

Enid's grimaces, but she maintains her expression. She must have not read how Enid is married to said companion.

"I must decline, Countess Briss. The company of my...companion is certainly enough."

She can hear [Name] snickering a little, the little bastard.

Unfortunately, Countess Briss seems too determined, or too oblivious, to understand that Enid is not just with anyone. "Nonsense! Just come with me, I am certain my brother will be delighted to see you!"

The countess grabs Enid's wrist. Enid flinches.

Then a hand latches onto the gloved wrist of the countess, tight and taut.

"My wife said no."

The countess looks up now and pales slightly at who she sees. Whether it's because the Countess had been too oblivious, too focused on Enid or [Name] has hidden their presence well, it doesn't matter now that they have made themselves known to her. The Countess's smile weakens. "Y-Y...Your Excellency." The smile is crumbling. "My, it's so nice to see you again."

"Is it?" Enid looks towards [Name], where the once jovial tone they had has shifted to a harsher, more dangerous tone. "Because, quite frankly, I'm crossed." They look at the countess's hand. "Very crossed."

The countess winces and finally lets go of Enid's arm. But [Name] still has a hold and they lean forward while tugging the countess closer to whispering something in her ear. Enid, who has learned how to eavesdrop the moment she could walk, listens in.

"Be inconsiderate to my wife again," they warn, "and I'll bring his mistress to the next party."

They finally let the countess go and the countess takes her hand back, staring wide-eyed at both of them. Enid glances over, seeing the feral glare and obvious frown on their face.

They usually have a good poker face. They must be very upset this time.

"Well," the Countess starts as she busies her hands in brushing down the skirt of her dress before folding them politely, "it seems I have...been away for too long." Countess Briss tries to smile diplomatically, but it comes out shaken and weak. "It was nice meeting you, Lady Enid." Enid can see the hesitation in her eyes. "And you, as well, Your Excellency."

"I wish I could say the same," [Name] comments neutrally, "if it wasn't for the sour fruit from the pleasant cake I had."

It didn't take a genius for a noble to interpret that: If it wasn't for how you sour our mood, my wife and I would have been having a pleasant time.

The semi-blunt drop in the mood is enough for Countess Briss to make herself scarce.

-----

"Then why didn't you stand up for yourself?"

Enid's first question comes out in the midst of the hooves trotting the smooth road, the carriage barely rocking and only repeating the beats of wooden wheels rolling. The party has ended and Enid and her spouse are heading their way home.

But the question has burned so strongly that Enid couldn't wait to ask at their home.

"Huh?" They look so perplexed, they're almost foolish. Enid can't even help mentally wondering how she even fell in love with this adorable idiot.

"I know you heard the nobles back there," she clenches her hands into fists, "what they say about you."

"...Oh. That." They look casual about it before shrugging. "I don't see the need for it."

"[Na-]"

"I mean it." And they do. Enid can see it in those eyes, the way they dim slightly. "To me, their words are simply repeats of what I have once heard. The world of politics, though different in styles, are still very much the same."

Enid can't even imagine just how rough of a lifestyle [Name] once had. She had only ever been told bits and pieces, but [Name] had described it as a very long, very sad nightmare.

"The only difference is that you're with me." [Name] reaches out, pausing and looking up with eyes for permission.

Enid turns one of her hands over. The hand that meets hers, grasping and comforting, seems so afraid of letting her go.

"Having you there with me calms me." [Name] continues, "It also frightens me. Angers me. When I saw Countess Briss grabbing you, I...I don't want to wake up and see you gone. Or hurt." [Name] can't help but give a laugh and Enid can hear the way it shakes a little in the end. "The fact that you married me, it still feels so heavenly."

A hint of disbelief. Insecurity. But if anyone were to ask Enid, no one has been a more attentive partner to her than [Name]. And to hear them believing to find their marriage a paradise they still had trouble processing, Enid bares her soul, just a little.

"You're beautiful," [Name] looks at Enid with shock. She interlocks their fingers before looking at their face and eyes, unwavering, "sometimes, I still can't believe you're mine." She squeezes their hand and her voice softens, the sharp edge she usually has dulled. "All fucking mine."

And the proof [Name] accepts her soul, is by the tears that glisten in those beautiful eyes, their own soul weeping with bliss.

~~~~~

A/N: When you attempt something decent and ended up with angsts again. (/OAO)/

#TSR #snippets #Enid snippet #snippet #Enid

52 notes · View notes

istumpysk · 3 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ACOK: Davos II (Chapter 42)

I dedicate this Stannis chapter to @cappymightwrite.

Sometimes you need to get out of the way, and let a girl love her trash can. ❤️

He looks half a corpse too, years older than when I left Dragonstone. Devan said the king scarcely slept of late.

Seen at close hand, Stannis looked worse than Davos had realized from afar. His face had grown haggard, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

It’s hard work making shadows that murder your family. Maybe try fire next time.

+.+

"There is but one true king, and one true god," announced Lord Florent.

"Are we here to dispute theology, my lord? Had I known, I would have brought a septon."

(...)

"And what of Edric Storm?"

"My brother's bastard must be surrendered to me."

"Then my answer is still no, my lord."

(...)

Melisandre spoke instead. "May the Lord of Light protect you in your darkness, Ser Cortnay."

"May the Others bugger your Lord of Light," Penrose spat back, "and wipe his arse with that rag you bear."

(...)

Morrigen bristled. "Be glad this is a parley, Penrose, or I would have your tongue for those words."

"And cast it in the same fire where you left your manhood?"

(...)

"I have heard your proposal, Lord Stannis. Now here is mine." He pulled off his glove and flung it full in the king's face. "Single combat. Sword, lance, or any weapon you care to name. Or if you fear to hazard your magic sword and royal skin against an old man, name you a champion, and I shall do the same." He gave Guyard Morrigen and Bryce Caron a scathing look. "Either of these pups would do nicely, I should think."

How did I manage to forget that Cortnay Penrose is the best character in all of ASoIaF?

+.+

Where is Brienne of Tarth, I ask you?"

"That one?" Ser Guyard Morrigen laughed harshly. "She ran. As well she might. Hers was the hand that slew the king."

Killed the king and ran? Brienne and Sansa are kindred-souls.

+.+

Ser Cortnay did not seem surprised. "Is it the justice of your cause you doubt, my lord, or the strength of your arm? Are you afraid I'll piss on your burning sword and put it out?"

"Do you take me for an utter fool, ser?" asked Stannis. "I have twenty thousand men. You are besieged by land and sea. Why would I choose single combat when my eventual victory is certain?"

What’s the matter, Stannis? Won’t the Lord of Light will you to victory?

"Enough!" Stannis said. "The Lord of Light willed that my brother die for his treason. Who did the deed matters not." - Davos II, ACOK

^ Said paragraphs earlier. He’s so full of shit.

+.+

Only Melisandre kept pace, bearing the great standard of the fiery heart with the crowned stag within. As if it had been swallowed whole.

Yes it’s the sigil, yes it’s how Lightbringer was forged, but there’s something weird going on with Stannis and hearts.

Could he be stabbed in the heart? How very Daenerys of him. Hear me out, I know a lot of you have speculated Selyse might kill him, wouldn’t it be funny if this Dollar Tree Azor Ahai gets stabbed in the heart by his wife? Beautiful, right?

+.+

"Lord Alester urges me to bring old Lord Penrose here. Ser Cortnay's father. You know the man, I believe?"

"When I came as your envoy, Lord Penrose received me more courteously than most," Davos said. "He is an old done man, sire. Sickly and failing."

It was dangerous to oppose the queen's men, but Davos had vowed always to tell his king the truth. "I think that would be ill done, my liege. Ser Cortnay will watch his father die before he would ever betray his trust. It would gain us nothing, and bring dishonor to our cause."

"What dishonor?" Stannis bristled.

Sure, let’s murder an old man. Lovely. Didn’t the Freys do this with Edmure and Blackfish? Always good to share siege strategies with House Frey.

+.+

For a long time the king did not speak. Then, very softly, he said, "I dream of it sometimes. Of Renly's dying. A green tent, candles, a woman screaming. And blood." Stannis looked down at his hands. "I was still abed when he died. Your Devan will tell you. He tried to wake me. Dawn was nigh and my lords were waiting, fretting. I should have been ahorse, armored. I knew Renly would attack at break of day. Devan says I thrashed and cried out, but what does it matter? It was a dream. I was in my tent when Renly died, and when I woke my hands were clean."

You think I buy this horse shit for one second?

+.+

"Then hear me. Ser Cortnay's lieutenant is cousin to the Fossoways. Lord Meadows, a green boy of twenty. Should some ill chance strike down Penrose, command of Storm's End would pass to this stripling, and his cousins believe he would accept my terms and yield up the castle."

(...)

"Stubborn or craven, what does it matter? Ser Cortnay Penrose seemed hale and hearty to me."

"So did my brother, the day before his death. The night is dark and full of terrors, Davos."

Davos Seaworth felt the small hairs rising on the back of his neck. "My lord, I do not understand you."

"I do not require your understanding. Only your service. Ser Cortnay will be dead within the day. Melisandre has seen it in the flames of the future. His death and the manner of it. He will not die in knightly combat, needless to say." Stannis held out his cup, and Devan filled it again from the flagon. "Her flames do not lie. She saw Renly's doom as well. On Dragonstone she saw it, and told Selyse.

(...)

Others whisper that she has no place in my war councils, that I ought to send her back to Asshai, that it is sinful to keep her in my tent of a night. Aye, they whisper . . . while she serves."

"Serves how?" Davos asked, dreading the answer.

"As needed." The king looked at him. "And you?"

"I . . ." Davos licked his lips. "I am yours to command. What would you have me do?"

"Nothing you have not done before. Only land a boat beneath the castle, unseen, in the black of night. Can you do that?"

Do you want to know how innocent Stannis Baratheon is? He accepts the objective, fucks the witch knowing it creates the dark magic, then he implements an action plan to ensure success.

+.+

Melisandre saw another day in her flames as well. A morrow where Renly rode out of the south in his green armor to smash my host beneath the walls of King's Landing. Had I met my brother there, it might have been me who died in place of him."

Get directions from Melisandre, and you’ll end up in the Atlantic Ocean. This is why I can’t hate her, she’s going to send him to his grave.

My favourite little dizzy red priestess.

+.+

This single combat . . . could it be that Ser Cortnay seeks for a way to yield with honor? Even if it means his own life?"

A troubled look crossed the king's face like a passing cloud. "More like he plans some treachery.

Are you kidding me right now? How can a person lack this much self-awareness?

+.+

The flames do not lie, Davos."

Yet they require me to make them true, he thought.

THANK YOU.

+.+

She laughed. "Is it me you fear? Or what we do?"

"What you do. I'll have no part of it."

"Your hand raised the sail. Your hand holds the tiller."

She’s got you there, Davos.

+.+

"Are you a good man, Davos Seaworth?" she asked.

Would a good man be doing this? "I am a man," he said. "I am kind to my wife, but I have known other women. I have tried to be a father to my sons, to help make them a place in this world. Aye, I've broken laws, but I never felt evil until tonight. I would say my parts are mixed, m'lady. Good and bad."

"A grey man," she said. "Neither white nor black, but partaking of both. Is that what you are, Ser Davos?"

Cheater.

I can’t stand George R. R. Martin and his stupid grey spectrum. Your book has clearly defined heroes and villains, please shut up.

+.+

"What if I am? It seems to me that most men are grey."

"If half of an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. A man is good, or he is evil."

When Craster's wives brought onions, he seized one eagerly. One side was black with rot, but he cut that part off with his dagger and ate the good half raw. - Samwell II, ASOS

I get it, George. Thank you.

+.+

"And Renly Baratheon? Who was it who killed him?"

Her head turned. Beneath the shadow of the cowl, her eyes burned like pale red candle flames. "Not I."

Pathetic.

+.+

Panting, she squatted and spread her legs. Blood ran down her thighs, black as ink. Her cry might have been agony or ecstasy or both. And Davos saw the crown of the child's head push its way out of her. Two arms wriggled free, grasping, black fingers coiling around Melisandre's straining thighs, pushing, until the whole of the shadow slid out into the world and rose taller than Davos, tall as the tunnel, towering above the boat. He had only an instant to look at it before it was gone, twisting between the bars of the portcullis and racing across the surface of the water, but that instant was long enough.

Shit’s evil yo.

+.+

He knew that shadow. As he knew the man who'd cast it.

Jon! One of my favourite shadows.

Final thoughts:

Aegon VI is to Daenerys as Renly is to Stannis.

🤯

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #acok #davos ii

67 notes · View notes