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allysunny · 6 months

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(You're) My Antidote Pt. 2 | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ᵐᶦᵍᵘᵉˡ ᵃʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᴷ⁵ⱽᵉʳˢᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵀʷᶦᵗᵗᵉʳ

ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ² | ᵖᵃʳᵗ ³

Synopsys: It has been a few weeks ever since Miguel saw you glitch due to the antidote he'd given you. He's far too afraid to face you, and hasn't seen you in a while. Peter B. Parker talks some sense into his head, reminding him of what's truly important.

Words: 2.6k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, exhausted-Miguel, but also very soft-Miguel, Peter B. being a great father and having actually good advice, pain and screaming, syringes, blood, untranslated Spanish (please correct me if any of it is wrong!). Do mention if I forgot something!

A/N: Hey everyone! So, I've finally gotten around to write Part 2 of this fic (I had nearly forgotten about it, so I'm very, very sorry for the delay), but here it is! I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope it was worth the wait!

“Miguel?”

The voice that called out to him was gentle, soft. The one voice he could listen to for hours and hours without ever getting tired.

Yours.

“Miggy… Wake up, my love…” He could feel your soft, deft fingers brushing his brown locks away from his face. You liked to get a good view of him at all times. You played with his hair for a while, and he hummed in satisfaction. He’d stay like this forever if he could, lost in your embrace and your touch, time suspended just for the two of you.

“Miggy, wake up… C’mon, we have things to do…”

No, all he had to do was stay in bed with you, while you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp and making him forget about all his problems.

And then you tugged on his hair harder.

“Miguel?”

No Miggy? And why were you tugging on his hair so harshly? What was happening?

Ouch – that’d been a particularly hard tug. What the shock were you up to? It was far too early for you to be playing these sorts of games with him.

“Miguel? Miguel!”

Miguel’s eyes flashed open, and he blinked away the sleep.

Before him, was a red-haired baby, staring curiously at him, and back at her hand. Peter B. Parker quickly scooped her in his arms, talking to her in a soothing voice.

“C’mon Mayday, you’ve played with his hair enough. Let’s not hurt dad’s boss, alright? Give him a break.”

“¿Que coños estás haciendo aqui?” Miguel grumbled, running a hand through his now messy hair. It was bad enough he was asleep and not actually next to you but having mistaken Peter B.’s voice for yours annoyed him to no end.

“Jessica asked me to check up on you. According to her, you weren’t even supposed to be here.” Peter replied as his child climbed all over him and pointed her tiny web-shooters at the wall. “

“Yeah, well, I’m working. Not sure if you’re familiar with the concept,” he grumbled again, facing the monitors in front of him. Files and files and files on you, your health, your life, your family tree, his family tree, his DNA, just anything he could get his hands on. He’d fallen asleep on top of papers, each with a different combination of chemicals and elements, all of them experiments on a new antidote for you.

Failed experiments.

“I am familiar with the concept of work, Miguel, but it’d never occur to me to work myself to exhaustion while my wife suffered by herself at home.”

This seemed to get Miguel’s attention. Every single Spider-Person in the Society had warned Peter not to bother Miguel, and most importantly, to keep you off his mouth. Everyone knew what was happening to you at this point.

Pregnant with Miguel’s child, who was slowly killing you from the inside with 50% of his Spider DNA.

And everyone also knew that Miguel had been spending unhealthy amounts of time inside his office instead of at home, by your side. They were, of course, all far too scared to say something. He didn’t seem to budge, not to subtle pleas, not to direct asking. He was hellbent on finding a cure.

Miguel’s nostrils flared and he huffed, raising a finger, and pointing right at Peter’s face.

“This is none of your business, Parker.” He said through gritted teeth, anger evident in his eyes.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care. You might not care about anyone’s lives other than hers, but I am a husband too. And I would ditch everything – and I mean everything – to be with her at a time like this. Especially if I knew… If I knew she might…”

Miguel slammed his hands down on his desk, the sound echoing through his office.

“Do not finish that sentence. Don’t you dare.” Although he was furious, his voice was nothing but a whisper, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

“Alright, I won’t. And then what, Miguel? Forget this. Go home to [Y/N]. She needs you right now.” Mayday crawled on her father’s arms once again, and he rocked her gently. “Think about how she must be feeling. Terrified, all by herself, without her husband by her side.”

Miguel’s shoulders hunched. He was usually a tower of a man. But right now? He felt as small as possible.

“I can’t go back home,” he whispered, shoulders shaking. “I can’t go back home without an antidote. How am I supposed to face her? How am I supposed to look her in the eyes and tell her, her supposed genius of a husband can’t find a cure to the child that’s killing her?” When Miguel turned to face Peter, he was crying, and his eyes were drowning in sorrow. “Her screams, Peter… No man should hear such screams come from his wife… And I’m failing her… I don’t know what to do…”

Peter was stumped.

He’d never seen the cold, apathetic, always professional leader of the Spider Society behave like this. Sure, he seemed to be heartless and a jerk, but he knew that when it came to you, Miguel was willing to hold the weight of the world in his shoulders.

And it seemed like right now, he was.

Peter placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Go home, Miguel. Go to her. You really think you’ll ever disappoint her? She knows how hard you’ve been working for her. Just… Go to her, alright? Before you can’t and you blame yourself for the rest of your life.”

Peter’s words did something to Miguel, and he felt his heart ache. Slowly he nodded.

“Thank you.” Nothing else needed to be said. Miguel wasn’t one for words, but Peter recognised the weight behind the ones he had just uttered.

Within seconds, a portal had been opened, and Mayday was happily waving at the man that walked through it.

The house was quiet. Almost too quiet, but he quickly picked up on the sound of the TV coming from your shared bedroom. He took off his shoes and made his way to the source of the noise.

If Miguel were speaking the truth, he’d say he was terrified. He had spent the past two weeks working non-stop to find a cure and had only checked on you three times.

He was dealing with a bunch of different emotions, all gut-wrenching in nature and far too difficult to understand. He didn’t want to see you like this, feeble, weak, laying down in bed as the baby growing inside of you sucked what little was left of your life. He wanted to remember you vibrant and full of life, full of colour and smiles.

He didn’t want you to see him like this either. Tired, exhausted, dishevelled. Dark bags under his eyes, oily hair that had seen better days. He’d been working non-stop for you.

He didn’t want to come home only to tell you he couldn’t find an antidote yet, that you’d have to suffer more. Couldn’t deal with the failure.

But (as much as he hated to admit it), Peter was right.

Although he wasn’t ready to accept defeat, he didn’t want to take the time he had with you for granted. Shock, he’d been doing far too much of that.

He approached your bedroom and his gaze settled on you, neatly tucked in your bed, hands rubbing soothing circles on your belly.

You looked pale. Fragile, He was afraid to even speak, should the quietest whisper tear you apart.

And still, you turned your head to face him, and the whole world lit up within your smile.

“MIggy!” You exclaimed and tried your best to sit up even straighter. You opened your arms for him, and, just like a moth to a flame, he was instantly drawn to you. He kneeled by your side and laid his head near your hands. Your fingers reached into his hair and massaged his scalp, just like you knew he liked.

“Lo siento…” he sobbed into the mattress, afraid to meet your eyes. “Lo siento tanto, cariño…”

“Shhhh…” you tutted, hands reaching to his jaw, so you could cup it and force him to look up. When he tries to look away, you grip his chin with whatever strength you have left, and he finally meets your eyes. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“No, my love, I’m so sorry, I’ve been so focused – ”

“I know,” there were tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Miguel was always so strong for you. It was your turn to be the strong one. How ironic. “But you’re here. You’re with me. With him.”

“Him?” Miguel asked, looking at your belly.

“I just feel it.” You offered him a smile, and he tried his hardest to reciprocate, ignoring the ache in his chest. Ever since he’d seen you glitch, Miguel had been afraid to show even the smallest of smiles. He was afraid the smallest of joy he felt around you would be taken away just as quickly.

After the first time, he’d refused to give you any more of that godforsaken antidote. Still, there’d been aftershocks. The following days, he’d seen you glitch once or twice, but it eventually faded away with time. On one hand, he was glad.

On the other, it only made him worry more. The glitching was over.

But you were still in pain.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” he asked, taking your hand in his and kissing it.

“Only if you shower first. You reek of Spider Society, Miggy, and the sheets are clean.”

He smiled once again and did as you asked, hopping in the shower, and washing the exhaustion and grime of the day off him. When he was ready, he put on a pair of sweatpants and walked into the bedroom, relishing in the way your breath hitched as you looked at his bare torso.

“Necessitas algo, mi amor?” he asked, raising an eyebrow comically. You looked away, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. You’d been married for years, and he still had this effect on you.

“Yeah, for you to get under the covers with me right now. But put a shirt on - you’re distracting me from my show!” Miguel chuckled, and he was surprised at how long it’d been since he’d last heard it.

“What’re you watching?” he asked, lifting the covers so he could sit next to you. He did so gently, afraid to disturb your peace – and the baby inside of you that thank heavens was giving you some rest.

“Pasiones Entrelazadas,” you replied, leaning into him. His touch had you melting, and you pointed at the television in front of you. “Isabella was getting married to Luis, but his evil twin Diego kidnapped him and took his place, and now Isabella thinks Diego is Luis.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, and Marisol, their mom, well, she’s totally on Diego’s side, because if it weren’t for Luis, Diego would be the heir to her ex-husband’s money.”

“And why doesn’t she like Luis? Isn’t he her son as well?” Miguel shook his head, trying to keep up with the plot of another of your wacky shows.

“Well, Luis is actually the son of another man.”

“¿Qué?!”

“So, Marisol actually slept with two men when she was younger. She was married to Xavier, this big CEO guy, but she’s a little slut so she was fooling around with Antonio on the side. Xavier found out and divorced her. She found out she was pregnant shortly after. Luis is Antonio’s son, but Diego is Xavier’s. And if it weren’t for Luis, Diego would be entitled to his father’s fortune.”

Miguel was too stunned to speak.

“[Y/N], mi amor, that makes no sense.”

“Shhhh – Isabella is about to sleep with Diego!” You shushed him again, gesturing with your hands to keep him quiet.

“How can they be twins and still – “

“Shhhhhhhh!”

Miguel sighed.

“Fine, fine. Let’s watch.”

And you did.

For about ten minutes, before you fell asleep on his shoulder – not a rare thing to happen.

With all the care in the world, Miguel eased you down, fetching your pillow and propping it against your belly in the way he knew provided most comfort. He leaned over your body and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Perhaps all would be right. Perhaps you could endure this together, as long as you had each other. Perhaps, all would be okay.

These were Miguel’s thoughts as he drifted to sleep.

And then they were promptly interrupted by a loud, shrill scream, and the body next to him contorting in pain.

“Honey? Honey, I’m here!” He yelled, turning on the lights and sitting up to get a good look at you. You were sitting up as well, hands instinctively wrapped around your stomach. It’d become your priority after you got pregnant – the baby came first. Even if it was the very thing that was killing you.

Miguel could see you convulsing, limbs twitching and twitching, and you kept on screaming. He quickly sprinted towards his home office, opened a drawer on his desk and removed the (original) antidote and its gun, returning to your bedroom in the blink of an eye.

He basically threw himself on his knees next to you and grabbed your arm.

Once you realised what he was about to you, you tried prying your arm from him, crying loudly.

“No!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face. “P-Please! Don’t – Miggy, don –” your words were interrupted as another scream was ripped out of you. You fell flat on the bed as your body twitched, and Miguel had to try his best to keep himself under control. The woman he loved the most was suffering. She was convulsing and screaming some of the most blood-curdling, truly horrifying screams he’d ever heard. And yet, she was begging him not to use the antidote on her.

“My love, I’m so sorry… I have to…” he said, grabbing hold of your arm once again.

“No!” You sobbed, thrashing around the bed, silk sheets flying in every direction. “You’ll hurt him! God – no, please! Miggy, it hurts! Miggy, no –“ Another scream.

And another.

Miguel had two choices. He could stand by and watch as whatever was inside of you killed you. He could simply wait it out and watch as unimaginable pain consumed your every limb. He could wait and see what happens.

He could wait. And it’d be too late.

Shock it.

He did not need to think it twice. Miguel grabbed your arm and injected the antidote in your veins.

You were still in a matter of seconds, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling with tears in your eyes.

“Miggy?” you whispered; voice nearly broken.

Miguel looked at you and slowly brushed the hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“I’m here, mi amor. I’m here,” he repeated these words over and over again, reassuring you with his voice.

“Miggy… I think…” your eyes teared up once more. “Miggy I… I peed myself…” You closed your eyes and cried silently, looking away from him, which made Miguel’s heart break. You’d gone through thick and thin together, and peeing yourself was going to make him think less of you?

“Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” Miguel got up and slowly peeled the bedsheets from you to reveal your exposed legs.

That’s when all the air was sucked out of his lungs.

You hadn’t peed your pants. Not at all.

That was blood.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you've all liked it, hehehe. I'm sorry if the show seemed real shitty - I used to watch telenovelas with my nana when I was younger, and I swear their plots were all like this. We'd then sit on her porch and discuss whatever wacky plot was going on this time. It was fun.

Anyways, I hope you all have an amazing day ahead!

Taglist

@tarjapearce , @estella-satn , @meganswife , @cold-blooded-girls , @marcswife21 , @edgycatx

I'm not very sure how to tag people, so in case this doesn't work, I'm sorry!!!

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unrefinedmusings · 1 year

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no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader headcanons

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, nasty situations, age gaps, dirty talk, strip clubs, threesome, mentions of infidelity, sexually forward behavior?, not proofread very well

a/n: blaming this one on ovulation and listening to hot stuff by donna summer on repeat. only one of the scenarios is told in second perspective, but feel free to think of all of them as you.

currently obsessing over a joel miller slut era

the outbreak never happened and sarah is off at college. being a father has been his greatest joy. he would not trade a second of his time with sarah for a more rebellious youth. but when joel is almost 45 and living in an empty house, he gets lonely. and bored. that's when he starts to notice. the fleeting glances. the overt stares. he never realized how much attention he got. so he lets his dick do the thinking for a while. who could blame him? people were throwing themselves at his feet. who could blame them?

some standout moments:

while shopping for a birthday present for sarah, joel walks into a boutique at the mall. it's a small store and a slow day. the girl at the counter perks up at the sight of him. she's not subtle, nearly salivating when he walks over to ask for help. she touches him way more than what is appropriate while giving an opinion on earrings. all he does is lick his lips in her direction before she's locking the front door and turning the shop sign to closed. he drags her into a changing room despite her suggestion of the back office. joel doesn't mind the size of the stall when it means he can watch her face while he pounds her from behind. when he finishes, he kneels to make her finish one more time on his tongue. "make sure to watch yourself, honey. look so pretty when you cum."

joel miller is neither stupid nor cruel enough to get involved in someone else's marriage...but that doesn't mean he can't have some fun. since entering the business, he's found that every bored housewife loves to flirt with the contractor. now he just lets himself flirt back. watch their cheeks flush when he winks across the room. see them turn their weddings rings around, as if not seeing a diamond will make him forget their husbands hired him. it gives him an ego boost knowing they'll think of him in their marital beds that night.

hank, one of the younger guys on his crew, is engaged and invites joel to his bachelor party. tommy insists he go, at the least so as to not come off as an unfriendly boss. the strip club is loud, and his beer is overpriced and watered down. none of that matters when he sees the little devil come out on stage. she's wearing a lacy red corset that's pried open, letting her tits bounce free. he palms his cock under the table when she spreads her legs wide for the audience, and chuckles when her horns don't fall off even when she's upside down. joel had always been impressed by the fancy spins and twirls, but what he loved most was watching a woman make love to the pole. she's gyrating against it like a cat in heat, even turning around and letting the smooth metal slide between her asscheeks. she saunters over after her show, slides into his lap and offers him a dance in a private room. the horns fall off while she's bouncing on his cock, chasing her orgasm as his fingers work her clit.

the one he should probably feel the worst about it is the least his fault. those girls were so eager. they zeroed in on him before he realized. joel wanted to get a beer after work, the two seniors from Texas A&M wanted to sow their wild oats. joel knew they were a little too young for him, but they insisted since neither had been with an older man or had a threesome before. both girls sidled up on either side of him at the bar, each slipping a hand onto his thighs. he can't feel that bad when he remembers what having two pretty young things kissing on his cock was like. what it was like lying in his bed, one on his cock and one sitting on his face. hard to feel bad about that.

his favorite occasion is the night he meets you. it's late. he's had an awful day. two guys on his crew called in sick and he had no time to eat. he stops at an old school drive in for a couple burgers. in his side mirror he sees you, sees your uniform: cropped white tee, short black skirt, and, oh fuck him, rollerskates. your tits jiggle as you come to a stop by the driver's side window of his truck. you catch him staring. he can't muster the energy to be inconspicuous. joel's gaze lifts to meet yours and sees the flirtatious smile you've got on. leaning against the door, you ask to take his order. "I'll get two burgers, some fries, and two shakes if you've got time, sweetheart. Only one if you got somewhere else to be." You take your break in his back seat sipping on a vanilla shake with his head between your legs. After you cum, he lifts your shirt up and jacks off on your tits. He makes sure to grab the panties hooked on your skates and tuck them into his jeans. When you ask for them back, he spanks your ass. "I'm coming back for another pair. When's your next shift?"

💕💕💕💕💕

Thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller headcanon #joel miller drabble #the last of us #the last of us drabble #joel miller x you #tlou smut

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ghostinacardboardbox · 11 days

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@averagecygnet-blog i accidentally deleted your ask about my opinion on the themes in Black Friday 😶 sorry bout that anywhere here’s my thoughts.

So like first of all, like you’ve already said, the critique of consumerism is incredibly heavy handed. You are right. It is not at all subtle. We’ve all heard Made in America. But I really don’t think it was possible to tell this story and have it be subtle; this was always going to be an incredibly overt anti-capitalist message.

Starting with the real life inspirations of the premise, the “Tickle-Me Wiggly” is already a direct reference to “Tickle-Me Elmo,” which was a toy that inspired real life riots ending in at least a handful of injuries and arrests. In the scene right after the Wiggly Jingle, Paul and Emma discuss Cabbage Patch Kids. The Cabbage Patch riots have their own wiki page. The idea of parents literally resorting to violence over toys on Black Friday is something that already happens. So this musical is really just looking at those events, saying, “Wow, capitalism sure makes people behave badly,” and then pushing that concept to its most exaggerated form. The fact that it isn’t subtle is not a bug, it’s a feature.

I also see people bring up this theme almost entirely in relation to the song Made in America rather than connecting it to almost every scene. As if this isn’t a show that doesn’t begin with an advertisement. The opening number is an ad.

(Apparently an effective one, considering how quickly Starkid sells out of the Lord in Black dolls whenever they sell them. People literally watched a whole musical about how the doll represents using the product of capitalism to distract from societal problems and then went and bought the doll. And I would have, too, if I had the money. But I think about the irony.)

I'm not going to go through every scene and the capitalist imagery in it, mostly because I don't actually have anything particularly unique to say about it. Like most of them are fairly self-explanatory and I'm not particularly good at analysis. But do want to specifically bring up the lyrics of "Our Doors Are Open" since they usually get overshadowed by people talking about how much cunt Corey served (it's a lot of cunt. Record amounts of cunt served), because the entire song is both satirical and foreshadowing. Also the bridge of "First of Famine" and the dehumanization of the worker, etc. etc.

I'm also fascinated by the social dynamics in Black Friday. Lex is basically raising her sister due to their mother's neglect; Tom is a single dad; Becky is a domestic abuse survivor; and while Linda's family externally looks very well-put together, she's had multiple affairs, and it's revealed in the Nightmare Time episode "Honey Queen" that she blatantly plays favorites with her kids and has a terrible relationship with her father. Lex is a poor retail worker, Tom and Becky are middle class, and Linda is very wealthy. Black Friday more than any other Starkid show acknowledges the implications of social class, I think. I wonder if part of why a lot of people don't like it is because it's not really escapism the way a lot of other musicals are; it's pretty clear about dealing with real life problems, in a very simplified but obvious way.

I think all the time about the scene where Linda tells Becky, in front of a crowd, that everyone knew her husband was abusive and chose to stay silent. It's such an important moment because it's directly showing the audience just how cruel Linda is. It had been implied before but this was on another level. And it also serves as, again, a pretty basic depiction of how society treats victims. Like, saying that "bystanders will always look away as long as there's plausible deniability to preserve their own comfort" is pretty simple, but that doesn't mean it's a bad point to make, and I think it's made well. The title song also has the lines "I don't want your half-baked sympathy, / When did it save those in need?" which reinforces a similar concept; expressing pity isn't the same as actually taking any kind of action.

And then, of course, there is all the religious imagery. Every time I watch this show I notice more of it, it's everywhere and it's so cool. The show takes place during the holiday season so there are a lot of references to Christmas, specifically. Wiggly keeps saying it will be his birthday, and Linda will "birth" him, so they are tied to Jesus and the Virgin Mary, symbolically (While writing this I had the thought that Wiley possibly counts as the angel Gabriel, then). And I think that using Christmas works because of how commercial Christmas in the US is. If your eldrith god is using capitalist desires as a recruiting tactic, having him bastardize Christmas for his own purposes is a pretty logical step I think. It's also not just that Wiggly is associated with Christmas thematically but also in a sense the iconography of the holiday becomes Wiggly. The garlands on the balcony turning into Wiggly's tentacles is one of the greatest set design pieces I've ever seen. Even apart from the functionality of it as a low-cost set that can go unnoticed until it's needed, it so perfectly evokes the imagery of Wiggly literally corrupting the holiday imagery. The first time I saw that scene I was amazed. I don't feel like checking rn who did the set design for Black Friday but whoever they are, they're fucking incredible. No notes.

And then the music. This is by far my favorite Starkid score overall. I love it so much. Partially because I, known 80's pop-rock enjoyer, am obsessed with a good synthesizer, but also just because of how well the songs suit this particular story. The synths are used most in the songs that show Wiggly's influence (Feast or Famine, Adore Me, Wiggle). Is "non-traditional instruments represent the unknown and otherworldly" the most unique special concept ever? No. But I like it and it sounds cool so like idc.

Jeff Blim is an incredible songwriter who is so talented in so many genres, and I'm always impressed with the songs he writes for Hatchetfield. I think sometimes we don't appreciate enough that all of these songs are by one guy (also Matt Dahan's musical direction for the entire series and the underscoring for both seasons of Nightmare Time that works in the melodies of previously used songs so incredibly). All of the Nightmare Time songs are so different, and all three of the stage shows have a very distinctive sound that really makes sense with the story that's being told. And one of the things Jeff does best in my opinion is the use of repeated melodies and leitmotifs.

Hatchetfield is full of them. There's been a lot of discussion of it in Nerdy Prudes because that show has so many motifs (i.e. the Nightmare Time riff, the "I'm not a loser" melody), and one of them actually comes from Black Friday. In The Summoning, right after Wiggly says "fwendy-wends," the keyboard melody that plays is the same as the part in the song Wiggle that goes "We will build a portal just for [when he comes]" (The last few notes fade directly into the chorus of The Summoning). I'm not the first person to notice this or anything but I thought it was so cool when it happened.

And Wiggle itself is using a different melody: The Carol of the Bells. Again, it ties into the idea of Wiggly completely taking over the idea of the Christmas season. The lyrics of Wiggle also include the lines "He will rise up with joyful noise," and I didn't realize that not everyone would catch that as a religious reference until a friend commented about it but "joyful noise" is a biblical reference (Psalm 100:1). It all ties back to the religious themes.

This last one may not be intentional, but the last song also really makes me think of another Christmas carol? The opening lyrics of What If Tomorrow Comes ("Do you all see what I see, / What I know, / What I see?") really reminds me of the song "Do You All Hear What I Hear?" The melody is different and only vaguely similar so I may be reading too far into it, but I always got the feeling that I'd heard something like that before and wasn't able to place it until last year.

Anyway TLDR Black Friday is heavy handed but I think it actually works better that way, and I like how strong the imagery throughout it is.

#This is probably way longer than you wanted and is just me talking about everything I like about this musical lol #ghost posts from their box #ghost gets asks #< genuinely so sorry about deleting the ask I did not mean to but it was two in the morning #black friday #hatchetfield #musical theatre #team starkid #tom houston #becky barnes #linda monroe #lex foster #uncle wiley #wiggog y'wrath

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haziwritesstuff · 5 months

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My little rose, part 2

"You are meant to be the love of my next life."

Pairing | Aemond and Aegon x reader Wordcount | 5.5k (lol oops) Warnings | Medieval misogyny

Part 1

Once you are far enough from King’s Landing, you feel calmer and more relaxed than before. Your head is clear and the air feels fresh and invigorating after flying for so long. As you look down at the landscape below, you realize that you have to return to the castle at some point.

The thought of going back to the castle fills your thoughts, you feel a small twinge of anxiety in your stomach. You know that you'll have to face people, and potentially face Aegon or Aemond. You continue to fly over the surrounding land for a few more minutes, enjoying your peaceful time alone with Silverwing. As you feel the tension easing up inside you, you suddenly realize that you've been flying for a while, and Silverwing needs rest. It’s time to take her back to the Dragonpit. As you turn toward the castle, you see that there are still people out and about.

Your heart skips a beat when you see your father waiting for you below and you feel a rush of anxiety fill your body. You'd rather not face him at the moment, especially not after last night. As you descend towards the courtyard, you notice that he is staring at you, his expression cold and unreadable as always. You think about just turning Silverwing around and flying away, but you know that you'd only be putting off the inevitable. Considering your options, you realize that it would only be temporary relief. Daemon would come looking for you later, and you'd have to face him eventually. You feel like it would be better to get it over with now, rather than drag it out for longer.

You guide Silverwing to a safe area and land in the courtyard. You notice that Daemon is still watching you, his expression cold and stoic as he stands there waiting. You feel a shiver down your spine as Daemon's gazes bores into you. He looks like he's in a mood for a confrontation and that's the last thing you want to deal with right now. You slowly dismount from Silverwing, and make your way towards Daemon, feeling the tension growing with every step. He remains motionless and expressionless. You can feel the tension building between you as he stares at you with his cold, unwavering gaze. You don't know how to read the situation, but you get the feeling that this is not going to be an easy conversation. When you're finally in front of him, Daemon's eyes narrow a bit as he looks at you. He waits for you to speak, and you can feel the silence hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the tension building with every moment of silence.

"Did I disappoint you last night?" He looks at you silently for a moment, like he's weighing his words. When he finally speaks, his expression is still impassive but there's a subtle hint of anger in his voice. He doesn't sound overtly upset but you can tell that he's not happy about your interaction with Prince Aegon. "I had expected more from you," Daemon says sharply, looking away as he does so. His tone is sharp and blunt, his words like arrows directed at you. You can't help but feel hurt and embarrassed as you hear his words. "I'm sorry," you reply softly, feeling embarrassed and defensive. "Do you think you were acting appropriately?" Daemon asks sharply, still looking away. His tone is still cold and hard and you can feel the distance growing between you as he refuses to meet your gaze.

"He deserved it..." "So you enjoyed embarrassing him?" Daemon asks sharply, his eyes narrowing in accusation. "You enjoyed calling him a dick and making him look like a fool in front of everyone?" You weren't sure if you should answer that honestly, "No... I did not." "No?" Daemon asks, raising an eyebrow with slight amusement. The anger is still in his voice, but he seems more amused than angry now. "And what exactly did you get from mocking him then? I can't say a single good word about Aegon, but we don't need you mocking him. Understand?"

"I'll apologize to him, father." "Yes you will." Daemon says curtly. "But that's not enough. I expect you to start acting more maturely from now on." "Yes, father," you reply, feeling like a child. You aren't sure how to respond to his remarks and you're already feeling very self-conscious and embarrassed. His gaze is still hard and cold, but he's no longer seeming very upset with you. It seems like he has moved on and is letting you off the hook, at least for now.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As you head in the direction of Aegon's chambers, you can't help but feel nervous. You’re uncertain as to how he'll react to seeing you again, especially after last night. But you're also determined to apologize and make things right. Finally, you arrive at Aegon's chambers. You knock softly at the door and wait for a response, feeling nervous and unsure as you wait. You wonder if you should just leave if he doesn't answer right away. After a moment, you hear a soft, low voice come from the other side of the door. "Come in," says Aegon in his characteristic mocking tone. You open the door and walk into his chambers. You see him sitting on the edge of his bed, a cup of wine in his hand. The chamber is rather dim, with the curtains pulled over the windows. You see Aegon glance up at you briefly before looking away and taking a sip from his wine cup.

You hesitate as you step into the dimly lit room. The atmosphere is rather cold and aloof, and it seems like Aegon has no interest in talking with you. He's not even looking at you now, just taking a drink of his wine and staring off into space. You feel awkward and uncomfortable and you wonder how you are suppose to begin the conversation. "I was hoping we could talk..." When you speak, Aegon simply looks over at you for a moment, his face an impassive mask. He doesn't say anything in response, and just continues to stare off into space, seemingly ignoring you. He takes another sip from his wine cup and places it on the table next to him. You feel a wave of frustration and agitation rising within you, as if you're trying to speak to a wall. "I wanted to apologize," you say softly, feeling like you're speaking into a void. You're not sure that he's listening to a single word you're saying and he doesn't seem to realize how hard this is for you. Aegon's expression remains as cold and aloof as ever, offering no hints as to how the conversation is going. He simply continues to stare off into space, paying no attention to you or your apology. It's as if he's ignoring you completely, which only heightens your growing frustration. "I'm sorry for how I acted last night," you continue softly, trying to maintain your calm. You can't help but feel like you're just giving a monologue to someone who's not even listening to you. You just hope that he'll say something soon, or at least look at you...

And finally, after what feels like an eternity, Aegon finally breaks the silence. He sighs softly and stares at you for a moment, looking somewhat more serious now. Your heart skips a beat and hope begins to flicker inside you. "So you expect me to just forgive and forget what happened last night?" Aegon says sharply, his tone still mocking and condescending. You can feel the familiar surge of anger and annoyance rising inside you and it feels like you're right back where you started. You take a deep breath and try to remain calm. It's clear that he's not going to forgive you easily and you know that you need to tread carefully here. You try your best to maintain your composure and not give into your emotions, but it's difficult in the face of his mocking tone. "No. I don't expect you to forget anything, I do hope you can forgive me though."

"So you think that your cute little apology is enough?" Aegon says mockingly, his tone still sharp and sarcastic. You can't help but feel like he's taunting you and it's starting to push your buttons. "I'm just being honest," you reply softly, feeling your temper starting to flare up. "I'm just... Just trying to make things right. Isn't that what I'm suppose to do after making a mistake?" "Is that what your daddy taught you?" Aegon says in a scornful voice. "You think that you can make things right just by saying a few pretty words and waving your sweet little smile in my face?" "Yes, that's what my father told me," you reply sharply, angry now. It feels like he's being dismissive and he's not taking you seriously at all. "He told me that being honest and trying to make things right after making a mistake is the mature thing to do. I guess that’s a lesson you never got."

"I mean, it's such a sweet little apology. Your precious daddy trained you well." Aegon says mockingly, his tone still sarcastic and condescending. "But you're forgetting one thing." "What's that?" you ask softly, wondering what he's about to say. You're feeling agitated and angry now, and you're tired of his sarcastic tone. "Your apology means nothing unless you actually mean it. And how can you mean it when I know you don't even care that much... All you want to do is get me to forgive you instead of thinking that you actually owe me an apology. So if you want to be forgiven by me, then start acting like you're actually sorry." "What else do you want me to say? I've already apologized and admitted my mistakes. I can't say things that I don't believe in." you reply softly, feeling frustrated and annoyed, but also realizing that he may have a point.

"If you believe you said sorry then why aren't you looking at me in the eyes and giving me a proper apology?" Aegon asks mockingly, his attitude becoming more and more mocking the longer the conversation drags on. It feels almost deliberate, like he's trying to push you to your limits. Before you can reply, Aegon stands up from the bed and walks closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours. He stares intensely at you, as if waiting for a response. Your heart skips a beat as you find yourself staring into his piercing blue eyes, feeling your throat suddenly becoming tight around the words you want to say. "You see Princess, if you want to be forgiven... You have to try a lot harder."

"What do you want me to do? Kneel or prostrate myself?" you ask sharply, feeling increasingly annoyed by the situation. You can't help but feel like he's enjoying this exchange, like he's taking pleasure in seeing you struggle. "Oh, no... No, no, no. I would never ask you to do that. I'm just asking for a proper apology." Aegon says with a mock smile. "A proper apology should always come with an honest expression of remorse and sincerity. But I'm not seeing that here." "I already said I'm sorry and I meant it. If you don't want to accept my apologies, then so be it." you reply sharply. You feel like you're being treated unfairly and you can't help but feel like he's trying to deliberately piss you off. "That's the thing though, dear Princess. I don't think you are sorry. Your apology sounds like a bunch of empty, meaningless words. You don't actually show any remorse or sincerity." Aegon says mockingly, his tone becoming even harsher now. "So is that what you want? For me to break down in front of you, begging you for forgiveness? Do you want me to cry and tear my hair out for you?" you ask angrily, feeling like you're at the end of the rope with this conversation. "Let's be honest, I would be rather amused to watch you cry and beg for forgiveness. It sure would break up the dullness of this day." Aegon says, his mocking tone now becoming outright cruel and mocking.

"You're an utter jerk, you know that?" you reply angrily, your temper getting the best of you. You storm out of the room, feeling frustrated and angry as you slam the door behind you. You can't believe that your apology was met with such mockery and condescension. It's clear that you were just a pawn in his cruel little game. You feel so angry and humiliated, you don't think you'll ever speak to him again.

The rest of the day passes by, and you try your best to pretend that you're not still annoyed by the whole thing. No matter how hard you try, you can't help but replay the conversation over and over again in your mind. Evening finally arrives and you finally get to relax and retire to your chambers. You're feeling mentally exhausted and drained and all you want to do is curl up in your bed and be alone with your thoughts. You try to distract yourself by doing some reading. However, you can't focus on your book for very long, as someone knocked on the door of your chamber. It breaks you out of your mental spiral. You wonder who could be knocking at this hour, and you get up from your bed to go check. When you open the door, you see Aegon standing there.

He's just standing there, his expression cold and indifferent. It's a far cry from the mocking and condescending tone you heard earlier today. You can't help but wonder why he's here. Without saying a word, Aegon simply walks straight in, his icy blue eyes locked on your face the entire time. You can't help but feel uneasy in his presence as he crosses your chambers. He walks over to your bed and sits down on the edge, his eyes still watching you intently. Instead of saying anything, Aegon just stares at you for a long moment, his eyes never breaking away from yours. The silence is deafening, until finally he speaks. "I have a condition for your forgiveness." Aegon says in a solemn and serious tone, his eyes never wavering from your face. "Oh yeah? What condition is that?" you ask sharply, feeling angry and irritated again. You can't help but feel like this is a continuation of his cruel mockery from earlier today. "You have to kiss me." Aegon says bluntly, his gaze finally breaking away from yours as he stares off to the side. The quiet tension returns to the air as you stare at him, feeling surprised and confused. You can't help but wonder if he's joking or not. "You heard me." Aegon speaks, staring back at you with the same serious and solemn expression. "You have to kiss me, and if you do, then I will forgive you."

"Kiss you? You're joking right?" you ask sharply, feeling shocked and confused. You can't believe this is a legitimate condition for forgiveness. "Dead serious," Aegon replies firmly, showing no hint of humor in his expression. "You kiss me, just once, and I'll consider forgiveness granted. But you have to really mean it, not just a quick peck on the cheek. I want a proper, long and passionate kiss. If you do that, then and only then will the slate be clean."

You stand there for a moment, staring at him in disbelief. The mere thought of kissing him is making you feel uncomfortable, but at the same time, you can't help but be intrigued by the idea. His icy stare is unwavering as he waits for your answer. You can't help but feel slightly attracted to him, you feel the tension rising with every passing moment and your heart is beating faster as you consider the idea of kissing him. It's not something you'd ever consider under normal circumstances, but there's something about him that's making you feel... intrigued. You find yourself taking a step toward him, your body almost moving on its own.

"You don't deserve a kiss." "I think I do." Aegon says softly, slowly stepping toward you as well. The tension between the two of you grows by the second, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to him. There's almost no distance left between your faces now, your lips almost touching. "Kiss me if you genuinely feel sorry, if you truly want to be forgiven.” he adds softly, his eyes still locked on yours. You can't help but feel your heart beating faster and faster. The heat of the moment is making it hard to think rational thoughts or to even remember why you're supposed to be mad at him in the first place. Your breath becoming hotter and faster and you finally gave in. It's a passionate and intense kiss, and you feel a wave of excitement rushing through you like never before. You find yourself pressing into him, feeling his body tightly against you as the warm touch of his tongue sends shivers down your spine. You feel like you're on cloud nine, the tension of the interaction melting away as you're swept up into the passion and emotion of the moment.

"That wasn't so hard, was it Princess?" Aegon pulls away after a few moments, watching you breathe heavily and catch your breath. Your lips are still moist and warm from the kiss and you feel like you can't remember anything else other than the feeling of his lips on yours. You feel flushed and disorientated as you stare back at him, unable to form a coherent sentence. "I accept your apology." he says teasingly before leaving you alone in your chamber. You stand there for a moment, trying to catch your breath and make sense of what just happened. You're still feeling flushed and disorientation, and the taste of Aegon's lips is still lingering on your lips. You can't help but feel slightly embarrassed and confused, but at the same time, you can't deny that it was one of the most thrilling experiences you can remember. You feel like you're floating on air.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Morning arrived rather quickly. You finish getting ready and step outside, feeling a bit exhausted but overall in a good mood. You can't help but feel giddy from the exchange with Aegon last night,and you can't wait to see him again. When you step outside, you see Aemond landing Vhagar. You stare at him, feeling your cheeks start to heat up. You look at Vhagar in awe and admiration, the sheer size of the dragon is truly breathtaking. It's like looking at an enormous mountain made of scales and teeth and claws. She is truly a majestic sight to behold, and you can’t help but be intrigued by her presence. You notice that Aemond is giving you a small smile as well.

You feel your heart beating faster as you stare at each other. The tension between you two be felt and you find yourself feeling slightly overwhelmed by his presence. Your stomach starts to feel like it's doing somersaults. Aemond breaks the stare first, glancing at you briefly and then looking away. He seems slightly shy and you feel like you caught a glimpse of some emotion you weren't meant to see in his eyes. You watch him dismount from Vhagar, your eyes following him as he walks towards you. Your whole body feels like it's on fire, every nerve in your body tingling with excitement. He stops right in front of you, standing close enough to touch. You hold your breath as you wait for him to say something, hoping he'll break the silence. The tension between you two is almost unbearable, as you feel like you'll explode at any second. His intense gaze doesn't let up either and it feels like he's staring right through you.

"You're up early." You realize that you must have been staring a bit too enthusiastically, because Aemond looks slightly amused by your expression. You start to grow a bit self-consciousness when he calls you out like that, but you also feel a bit smitten as he stares at you in amusement. "I... didn't sleep well last night." You reply anxiously, not sure what else to say. You feel like Aemond's gaze is looking right through you. The silence hangs heavy between you two and you can't help but feel a little awkward. You aren't sure what to say next. You can feel your heart beating faster than normal, and your mind goes completely blank trying to think of something to say.

"Fly with me." You are startled by the sudden request, but you find your own response coming out even before you realize what's happening. "Really?" "Afraid you can't keep up with little Silverwing?" "I..." you struggle to find the right word to describe your anxiety, feeling like you're struggling to gather your thoughts. The truth is that part of you would love to fly with Aemond, but another part of you is so worried about being a burden on him that you find it difficult to say yes. You also can't help to be slightly hurt that he referred to Silverwing as "little Silverwing", even though you know he likely meant no offense by the remark. "I just..." you still can't find the right words, and you find yourself growing slightly irritated by Aemond's amused expression. He seems to be looking at you with a smirk, as if he knows exactly what's going on in your head and is just enjoying teasing you. "I'm not really sure if I should..." you reply hesitantly, not wanting to feel like a burden to him. He seems to be enjoying the whole exchange immensely and you feel like he's enjoying watching you struggle with your words. "I... I would love to..." you suddenly find yourself saying, your eyes widening in surprise at your own answer. You feel like you've been drawn in by his charm and playful manner and your heart is beating even faster now as you realize you've suddenly agreed. You can't help but feel a bit dizzy and overwhelmed by the sudden change in atmosphere, but you're also excited and looking forward to the experience of flying with Aemond.

You mount Silverwing swiftly, your heartbeat increasing with each moment. As you look around, you see Aemond already flying away, waiting for you to catch up. You take off on Silverwing and fly after him, your heart pounding in your chest as the adrenaline rush fills you. You feel a bit giddy as the winds whip past you, your heart filled with anticipation and excitement. You feel like you're flying in a dream, the world around you becoming a blur as your thoughts become consumed with the flight ahead. As you look ahead, you see Aemond's figure getting bigger and bigger, the sight filling you with wonder and amazement as you approach him.

He flies higher and higher into the clouds, your heart pounding harder and harder as you follow closely behind. The landscape grows smaller and smaller beneath you, and your breath starts getting shorter and shorter as you fly higher and higher into the sky. You feel like you're floating on a cloud, the only sound in the world being the buzzing of the wind in your ears. You can almost feel like the air itself is singing to you as you fly, and you feel a sense of euphoria and peace like you've never felt before. You continue to move forward, flying higher and higher until eventually the air starts to become thinner and thinner. You feel your breathing become more and more labored, and you start to feel the effects of altitude on your body. But the view is like nothing you've ever seen before, the sky a deep blue and the clouds turning a light shade of white. You feel a feeling of exhilaration and awe as you marvel at the sight, taking in each moment with a sense of glee and joy.

The breath coming in shorter and shorter as you go higher and higher. You're no longer able to hear anything clearly, and your body feels like it's being weighed down by the thin air and altitude. You continue to marvel at the view, feeling like you're floating in a dream-like state where nothing else matters but the sight in front of you. But you feel your body giving way, the altitude taking its toll as you start to feel lightheaded and dizzy.

You feel a sudden rush of relief as you see Vhagar moving down towards you, the sight of the land coming into view once more as if by magic. Your body feels a bit heavy and dizzy, but you feel thankful for Aemond's presence and guidance. As you land, you are able to get off Silverwing without too much difficulty, and you're feeling better as you begin to feel the ground beneath your feet once more. Aemond dismounted Vhagar as well, coming over to you. He looks at you cautiously, checking your wellbeing as he sees that you are still a bit wobbly. "Are you alright?" he asks gently, placing his hand on your shoulder to ensure you are stable. You feel a bit flushed and embarrassed at the sudden gesture, but you can't help but feel thankful for his concern. It's like he can always see what you're feeling and that makes you feel safe and comforted in his presence. "I..." you find yourself struggling to find the words again, still a bit disorientated and dizzy from the experience. You feel like you're still breathing heavily and your heart is still racing. You feel slightly embarrassed by your reaction. Aemond notices your hesitation and he sighs gently as he pulls you close and gives you a hug. He holds you tightly against him, and you can't help but feel reassured by his presence. You feel like he's wrapping you in his arms, and you find yourself feeling oddly relaxed and safe in his protective embrace. As close as you are, you find yourself noticing his heartbeat as if it's your own. You feel like you could stay like this forever, lost in a bliss of comfort and closeness.

He lets go of you gently, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nods in understanding. He seems to recognize the emotions of embarrassment and flusterment that you feel, and he gives you a gentle smile before stepping away. Aemond has such an intimate and understanding look towards you, and you're filled with a sense of affection for him that is beyond words. "T-thanks..." Aemond smiles warmly at you, letting his gaze stay on you for a moment before he glances away in amusement. You don't know what it is about his gaze, but there's something so intimate about it that makes your heart flutter. You feel like there is a deep connection between you two that goes beyond just words. You barely know him, but something about him draws you in completely.

"It's my pleasure." he replies softly, his smile a mixture of amusement and affection. You look into his eye and you find yourself feeling a bit overwhelmed by the depths of his gaze. You feel like there's so much to explore, as if there are infinite possibilities within. You also feel like he's reading you perfectly, like his eyes are an open book to your soul.

"Well, I should-" he starts to say, but you can't help but feel a feeling of wanting to stay near him a bit longer. "Don't leave yet." you find yourself saying, your voice slightly hoarse from the excitement and nerves. You're struck by a sudden feeling of desperation to stay close to him, feeling like you're losing something precious as he starts to move away. You feel like you have to say something to keep him nearby and you realize how badly you want him to stay. Your words caught him off guard, he glances at you thoughtfully, seeming slightly flustered by your words. "I..." he starts to say, but you can't help yourself from suddenly moving closer to him, placing your hands softly on his shoulders. It's a gesture done almost instinctively.

His eye widen a bit, his breath hitching ever so slightly at the unexpected gesture. You can sense his surprise at the sudden closeness between you two. You feel like you're stepping over a line, but you find yourself feeling drawn to him and wanting to be as close as possible. As you lean closer, a sudden draconic roar fills the air, breaking your concentration and the intense feeling of intimacy that had built up. You feel your heart dropping as you pull away, realizing it was a different dragon roaring in the air. You look around anxiously, trying to spot the source of the sound.

The source of the roar becomes more clear, as you see the golden glimmer of Sunfyre's scales rising above the trees. You can sense the intensity of the moment building, as you watch Aemond's gaze narrow more and more. You feel like a storm is about to be unleashed and you feel a bit of a jolt of fear run through you as you realize that something is going to happen. You watch as Aemond's gaze track the progress of Sunfyre, as it flies across the sky and grows closer and closer. The golden dragon's roar fills the air, its wings whipping the wind and sending swirls of dust flying as it approaches. Aemond doesn't take his eyes off of the dragon, and you feel like a conflict is about to erupt. You watch as Sunfyre lands on the ground, its golden scales glistening brightly in the sunlight.

You watch as Aegon dismounts from Sunfyre's back, his expression stern and serious. You can feel the tension building in the air, and you can see the muscles in Aemond's frame tightening as he gets ready to engage in combat. The intensity of the moment is building, the air is growing thicker with the sound of the dragon's roar and the sight of Aemond and Aegon facing off against each other. You feel like you're a bit of a bystander now, watching as the conflict between the two men intensifies. "Running off with my girl, brother?"

"I was merely escorting her back to Dragonstone. She was our guest. Nothing more." Aemond replied crisply and calmly, not taking his eyes off Aegon’s face. You could tell that although his tone was level and even, there was a hint of tension under the surface that could burst out at any moment. "That's not what it looks like." Aegon responds sarcastically, his face tightening in anger. He seems to have taken offense to Aemond's response. The two men continue to stare at each other for a moment, before Aegon suddenly breaks out into a grin and steps towards Aemond. You can't help but feel a sense of surprise and anticipation at the switch in tone, which seems to have caught Aemond off guard as well. Aemond doesn't back down, however, and meets Aegon's gaze evenly and calmly. "Stop! I am no one's girl!" You hear your voice ring out, and you suddenly feel yourself stepping between the men as they stare at each other with sharp eyes. Relief washed over you as the tension between the two seems to diffuse a bit, as they both turn their eyes to focus on you instead.

Shivers running through you, as you become the center of attention. You stand between the two men, facing off against each other, as their eyes look at you intently from both sides. "There’s no need for this..." You find yourself whispering to yourself instinctively, a bit unsure of what to say or how to defuse the situation. The air is still thick with tension, and neither man seems ready to back down or de-escalate the situation. "I know how to handle my own affair." Aemond replies, and you find yourself feeling a bit of tension when he speaks. His tone is crisp and direct. "Do you? By having a showdown with your brother?" "This is between me and my brother only. Leave us." he replies curtly, and you feel like there's no reasoning with him at this point. You nod at him, "As you wish." You quickly mount Silverwing and take off into the air, escaping the tense atmosphere between the two brothers. You feel like you've just survived a near-miss, and you can't help but feel a bit relieved as you fly away on your dragon. The air is a bit cleaner now that you're away from the tension-filled environment, and you feel like you're able to breath easier once more.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x y/n #aegon x y/n

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doiefics · 1 year

Text

he could never

pairing: jennie x gn!reader

prologue: jennie is set to marry a suitable boy but she thinks it's never too late to run away

genre: royalty!au + angst

wordcount: 723

warnings: none

"You have to marry well." The words found their way out of your mouth for the nth time again, it was almost as if a toy has been winded up with a key.

Regardless, they could never convey what was buried inside your stupid organ, the heart.

Perhaps sometimes, things were better off in this manner.

"Why do you keep on telling me the same thing over and over again?" She voiced, never sounding irriated.

Everything she ever said to you lingered in your memory like a cherry mist.

"Because that is exactly what is going to happen!" You tossed her black pleated hair to her front, resting your arms on her shoulder as she faced the exuberant mirror.

She possessed what everyone desired. Expensive metal, imported perfumes, dresses in every colour of the rainbow, none of those could ever overpower her, for she was the most beautiful soul you had ever come across, and you were sure as hell you would never again.

"How do I look?" She asked, her gentle gaze fixed at the mirror's reflection.

"Beautiful, as always."

"More than beautiful to get his attention." You said as you pointed out the window.

Your speech was uninspired. At this point, you would not dare look her in the eyes.

She observed the boy as she tilted her head toward the window side.

There he stood with the untamed cocoa hair, dressed in linen slacks, added a black waistcoat, and a white puffed-sleeve button-down shirt. He was the son of one of her father's faithful lords, wealthy enough to satisfy her every wish at the blink of an eye.

This was the boy Jennie would marry.

You finally got the chance to look in the direction of the mirror while her arid eyes were still concentrated on the male.

Her appearance was mystical, the deeper you knew it, the more you craved for. A subtle smile that never parted ways with her rosy lips, similar to the natural blush of her cheeks. Her eyes, black, hypnotising, yet deep like the ocean.

In a flash of a moment, she looked at the shiny surface again, two eyes glanced for a moment but you were quick to avert.

Again, you could not dare meet them with hers, the fact that she was a princess was still the last reason though.

"He could never take your place." She moved as she proceeded to stand and you naturally bent down to fix her gown.

"No doubt. He wouldn't ever put on makeup or style your hair." You replied, grinning.

"You know very well what I mean is not that." She went on, hinting.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at." Your response was stern, willinglessly.

Jennie grabbed you by the arm to bring you to her level, her touch was hasty but never harsh.

"This is wrong." You worded.

"Why?" She questioned.

And you had no answer to her ask.

Your heart seemed to be the only organ present when you raised your head to meet hers as if you were trying to catch a butterfly before it flew away with her seductive lips serving as the other half of a broken magnet.

You kissed her. And she kissed you back.

With just one kiss from those lips, all of the uneasiness melted like honey in the royal kitchens.

The scorching yearning was like a flame, but it felt gentle like a cloud cushion.

You pulled back, tucking the little side fringes of her hair behind her ear, oh ever so delicately!

"He could never." Your eyes beamed with joy.

Jennie returned to your lips, this time shorter, as she kissed you through your smile.

"Let's run away." She whispered next to your ear.

"What? How? This- this doesn't suit a princess." You protested.

"Don't tell me it's wrong this time again or I will.." She was stern but not serious.

"Or else, you will?" You teased further.

"Oh, lord! I can't even be mad at you!" She gave herself away in the laughter, putting her arms around your neck. You hugged her back.

"What about him?" You murmured through her embrace.

"Let's see." She turned to take a closer look.

"He could possibly marry one of his lovely horses or his father's wealth." She chuckled.

This was the Jennie who was yours, only yours.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

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thefangirlfever · 4 months

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DBF! Miguel O'hara x reader (part 2)

Summary: You are finally back in your hometown and get to meet your father's friend, Miguel O'hara.

Tags: fluff, angst, slow burn, F/M, age gap, taboo relationship, mention of death and grief, reader is a woman of color

Notes: English is not my first language.

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« I tried to tell your uncle I was fine, but you know him… He immediately panicked and never left me alone after that ! »

« You broke your leg, dad... », you reply in a soft voice to him. Well, his body has changed but his wit is definitely the same and it even seems like his tongue has grown sharper. He doesn’t stop complaining to you about his cast, the hospital and how frustrating it feels to be stuck at home all day, unable to do what he actually likes… and you patiently listen to him. It’s comforting to think that he has enough energy inside him to rant about such things.

But all the while he keeps talking, your eyes never leave the other man. Miguel. You remember your dad telling you about a friend he met at his hiking club and the more you think about this, the more intrigued you get. You’re trying to be subtle about your looks as you glance at him from time to time. His large body looks squeezed inside the small flowery armchair he is sitting in. He almost looks awkward sitting there, out of place as if someone tried to squeeze him inside a doll’s house. His wide shoulders slouch down a bit and he almost looks sorry to be there, as if he was trying to make himself disappear into these plush pillows on top of the chair. There’s something almost funny about a man of this size acting this way ; with his hangdog look. You almost chuckle at the sight and you can’t hold back a smile. His eyes flash in your direction after watching your father for a long time, deep chestnut eyes with a hint of crimson inside them. It’s a very unlikely shade that just increases the intensity of his gaze by a tenfold. You find yourself unable to hold his gaze and looks back at your father. But even if your eyes are not focused on him, your thoughts bring you back to the man sitting across you. Did he find you impolite for staring ?

Your father seems to realize something and changes the topic of the conversation as abruptly as he did before :

« At least, there are a few good things coming out of this. You’re finally back home and you got to meet Miguel. Remember him ? I told you about him already. »

You’re not sure what to think about these two things. This place you’re inside of, is it really your home ? You don’t remember the wallpaper being this bland and the sofa looks too big now. Too empty. Maybe it’s the rain outside that makes you feel this way, as if everything was blended into different shades of gray and sepia. Everything except him, the man sitting in front of you, with his deep brown eyes, sun-kissed skin and the bright red of his corduroy shirt. You don’t know what to think about him for now. After your father mentioned him, he slowly sits up straighter. One of his hands rest on top of the armchair and to avoid his inquisitive look, your eyes drift down to this hand. A few black hair run down his arm to his knuckles and a delicate watch girds his wrist. No wedding ring in sight.

« Yes… I remember. Miguel from the hiking club ? My father talked a lot about you.», you finally stutter and your father doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. Is the man in front of you feeling it ? It doesn’t seem like because he replies :

« He talks a lot about you too. I was looking forward to meet you. » A subtle heat reaches the back of your ears and you don’t know if it comes from the fact that your father has been talking about you, or the sudden attention from this stranger. A witty comment would have usually left your lips and you wondered if somehow you lived up to his expectations.

“Oh...really?”

An awkward silence fills the space between the two of you, broken by your father again. It seems like he can’t stop talking as if he had kept all these words inside of him, waiting for you to let them come out. That’s how you learned that Miguel was not only found of hiking but also a doctor. The last one in town apparently. If not for the lack of health Service in the region, he would have already retired but he decided to stay. That was admirable of him but the way your father told you about his devotion to the city made you feel awkward. It sounded like a reproach for your own departure. You squirmed uncomfortably on your seat. Surprisingly, Miguel saved you by asking a new question:

“Your father told me you were working for a publishing house?”

You were glad for the change of topic and you slowly nodded your head, finally daring to look back at him. Under thick brows, his eyes were carefully studying your every motion, how you squirmed on the chair, crossed your legs or played with the hem of your sweater, anxiously pulling on a small thread. You could imagine what his patients would feel under his scrutinizing gaze and you found yourself looking at his hands again while searching for your words.

“I do. I am proofreading most manuscripts we get.”

It’s been almost ten years since you left your hometown for college. You still remember the day your parents dropped you at your dorm, their arms full of your boxes. And the way you cried like a baby the night after their departure even if you tried to play it cool in front of them. That’s how your life in the city began, by crying.

Since you weren’t saying anything else, your father told Miguel with a contrite tone in his voice that was unfortunately too familiar:

“Y/N studied English literature in college. She could have been a teacher, you know.” Before you could say anything, Miguel asked you an other question, acting like he didn’t hear your father:

“Do you like that?”

“What?” You tilted your head up, finally looking at him.

“Your job. Do you like it?”

That was a rather unexpected question for you and you didn’t know what to say at first. Did you like your job? Well, to some extent yes. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing it. But you had to admit that when you knew you would have to take a break to come back home, you weren’t feeling sad. You wouldn’t miss your office, nor the pressure of the deadlines. An awkward silence fell on the three of you and when you felt the eyes of your father back on your face, you hastily replied:

“It’s interesting.”

You were glad that Miguel didn’t ask any more questions, only giving you a small smile as if he was trying to make you feel at ease, to show you that he understood. This was a judgment free look but something about it made you feel strange. He seemed curious. You could tell he wanted to ask you more questions but something was holding him back and so, he only nodded to you before saying that he should probably leave the two of you alone. After all, you probably had a lot of things to tell each other.

The idea of Miguel leaving you alone with your father in this large house that you didn’t recognize, made you panic. You knew that as soon as he would leave, you wouldn’t have any way to escape your father’s questions. Memories of many lonely evenings with him after the loss of your mother flooded your mind. The awkward silence, the non-said, the tension...you were too tired to face this tonight. When your father asked Miguel to stay for dinner, he seemed to hesitate and when his eyes met yours, it seemed like something shifted inside him. The two of you seemed to have a silent conversation because after a few seconds lost in each other’s eyes, he finally accepted your father’s offer to stay.

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< previous chapter / next chapter >

Notes: Chapter 3 will be a headcanon and will come out soon. I know this chapter may not be the most interesting but I'm still crafting the story and the character's background. Hope you liked it!

Taglist: @safixiovi

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #fanfic #spiderverse #dbf!miguel

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alektowrites · 2 years

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Hymnus Throni (teaser)

PAIRING: Foreign duchess! Irene x Princess! Reader _______________ WARNINGS: Light Royalty AU, marriage of convenience, bickering, foreign royalty Irene! Let's pretend Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome didn't beef with one another (Troy oop), S2F2L, somewhat Roman-descent! Y/N, somewhat Russian-descent! Irene, mommy - I mean IRENE HAS A RUSSIAN ACCENT, mentions of war, minor character death, tension, mentions of war, Percy Jackson and The Crown reference, smut in the future scenes so more warnings will come because come on, Irene's the MAIN warning 🥴🥴🥴 _______________ A/N: Hymnus Throni means The Throne's Hymn in Latin.

And I'm sorry this took so long 😭, my circuits were fried while I drafted this one-shot.

This is requested, by the way.

Enjoy <3333

________________ Terminologies:

Moja koroleva - my queen Dorogoj - darling

"I'm sure you've heard of the Baskovanian Kingdom from the North, where a lord who goes by the name of Alexie Gavriil; saved my life during the war, and in return for saving my life, I grant him one wish." He paused, "What did he wish for?"

Your stomach churns as an answer pops into your mind. You refuse to believe it.

No, no, no.

It can't be true-

"Marriage, between the two families." The guests gasped.

"Today," He declares, "You all will bear witness to a political arrangement between two influential empires!" He gestures a hand in front, and the crowd immediately parts except for the captivating woman. "Between Empress Y/N Valeria and Grand Duchess Irene Gavriil. Bow before your new rulers!"

The resplendent woman, Irene Gavriil, strides toward you like a lioness stalking her prey. Her eyes hid her scrutiny and annoyance well. As she approaches, the guests go down on one knee to bow before your bride. Their heads ducked as she took confident strides toward you and your father.

The emperor steps away from you to join the witnesses, smiling from ear to ear as the grand duchess stops in front of you. Her sapphire-blue eyes swirl with enigma and intelligence before she too, goes down on one knee, her eyes never leaving yours as she takes your right hand, her gloved hands gently holding your hand. You can hear your blood drumming against the back of your ears. How the temperature of your body drops from her intense gaze and how your stomach churns at her proximity. Your knees almost gaze out when her plump, pink lips press a kiss against the back of your palm. She never broke eye contact in doing so, and the crowd squeals as she stands.

And finally, she spoke. Her voice is raspy but sultry and alluring, with a hint of a soft accent that leaves your spine shivering.

"We finally meet," The side of her lip curls to a cold smile, "Moja koroleva."

Her icy gaze pierced through you. You reply with a smile, but your eyes harden, and your face stings with anger, annoyance, and frustration. Your smile drops to a venomous scowl.

Marriage never appealed to you. Even at your age, you never thought of marrying. You saw it as a means of tying someone down to a forced commitment, made to be caged inside a tower and squeeze out heirs.

You don't want this.

You'd rather travel around the world and paint the wonders you've seen than be bound to someone you haven't met.

Political marriages are damned, all of it be damned. Irene moves to the side. You were snapped out of your raging stupor when you felt her lean to your side and snaked her arm around your waist.

Her touch prickles your skin as she pulls you close to her side to face the guest who cheers for you two. You instantly stiffen at her proximity, allowing you to inhale her subtle but sweet scent.

She directs her head to your ear, her eyes never leaving the crowd as she whispers in your ear; her cold breath fans the outer lobe, and her raspy voice fills your ears.

"Smile, dorogoj." She commands with an icy, hushed tone, "If you want to fool them, including your father, I suggest you smile and pretend to be happy with this god-forsaken arrangement."

Begrudgingly, you catch on but you are unable to match the excitement of the guests with the declaration of your union. You cast a side-eyed glance at the foreign grand duchess, her gaze is just as hard and seething as yours.

At least you're not the only one who's not happy with the arrangement. That's what you can both agree on.

You're royally screwed.

Coming soon!

#irene x reader #red velvet x reader #red velvet irene #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #kpop gg #fem reader #gxg imagine #gxg #alektowrites #red velvet joohyun #Hymnus Throni

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whenyoulosesmallmind · 6 months

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I fratelli Karamazov 1969 [EP1] - Ivan & Smerdjakov + at Katja's, the beginning of the three thousand rubles affair

As a farewell to 2023 and to a happy new year, I bring you... some more Karamazovian dramatics!

part one | part two | part three (you are here!)

Some sparse notes before the translated transcripts start under the cut: 1. usual disclaimer that I'm not a professional, just an amateur, and am doing this out of pure insanity -- if you want to discuss translation related things or have some corrections, my inbox is open and your thoughts are welcomed <3; 2. mild trigger warnings for (time appropriate): strongly implied slut shaming and more vague possibly mysoginistic remarks made by Smerdjakov about Grušen’ka -- i feel like Smerdjakov himself is sometimes made to fit into the evil gay "advisor" stereotype and that might not be everyone's cup of tea -- while I don't think these bits take anything away from the writing and actually contribute to paint a more vivid picture of the society and the time the work is set in, we must keep in mind that this is a 1969 adaptation of a 1860s novel and that there are things about it that might squick some nowdays; 3. I'm actually really sorry that this took me so long to finish, I've had the dialogues written down and a rough sketch of the translation sitting around for months and polishing it turned out to be an harder task that what I thought it would be. There's still some sentences I'm not 100% sure about, but done in this case is better than perfect, and it doesn't matter how much I mourn the formal you in english, I gotta learn to work without it; 4. that said, this time I relied in a couple of scene on a lot more stage directions than last time, I felt that some more prominent acting/staging choices, especially in the Ivan & Smerdjakov bit, were important enough to warrant a description -- Katja and Dmitrij's interaction I feel instead it relies on more subtle choices for its effect, that are harder to describe, especially on Katja's side, so left it more barebones to give the dialogue more space (so you should watch it to get the full effect, wink wink nudge nudge); 5. enjoy the insanity <33

Interpreters: Umberto Orsini as Ivan Karamazov, Antonio Salines as Smerdjakov, Neda Naldi as M. Chochlakova, Maria Grazia Antonini as Lisa Chochlakova, Carla Gravina as Katerina Ivanovna and Corrado Pani as Dmitrij Karamazov.

Original script by Diego Fabbri, directed by Sandro Bolchi.

You can follow watch the drama here on YT or here on RaiPlay -- I suggest the latter, it's free and it's the original source, but youtube's still there if you prefer.

[INT. – AT THE KARAMAZOV’S/IVAN’S ROOM] min. 14:19

(Ivan snaps his fingers from behind a screen – Smerdjakov enters: he’s here to help Ivan get dressed)

Smerdjakov: (with a servile tone – to keep in mind for all his dialogues: he never drops it) I’m not allowed to say certain things, as I’m just a servant who should only thank his master’s benevolence, but if I may risk a word it’s only because I’m devoted to you, Ivan Fëdorovič…

Ivan: (with a harsh tone – emphasis on devoted; he keeps up the commanding/angry tone until stated otherwise) I sincerely don’t understand why you should be devoted to me! – As you put it.

Smerdjakov: I like to hear you talk, Ivan Fëdorovič… when you’re arguing, downstairs, with your father–

Ivan: That’s rare!

Smerdjakov: (cont. – must note: as Smerdjakov is helping Ivan button the back of his waistcoat, they are talking in front of a mirror and the last piece of this line is spoken while they’re both looking at their reflection) Well, those times I… I never miss a word. Sometimes I even hide, I must confess, to not lose the flow of the conversation… and I can say that you don’t converse: you reason.

Ivan: Is the frac ready? – Did you iron the frac?!

Smerdjakov: Ironed, Ivan Fëdorovič: I overlooked the ironing myself because I don’t trust that muddler, Marfa, nor that hick Grigorj.

Ivan: (amused/sardonic – he’s putting on the cuntiest little round glasses) What is it – what would you have told me if you were allowed to speak freely?

Smerdjakov: Well, now maybe… I wouldn’t dare…

Ivan: You’re allowed! And don’t make me beg you…(grabs Smerdjakov by his hair and pulls him close) you’re cunning.

Smerdjakov: But maybe you already know, Ivan Fëdorovič–

Ivan: What should I know? (he releases Smerdjakov)

Smerdjakov: Dmitrij’s new sudden infatuation for Agrafena Aleksandrovna… they’re talking about it, in town, because Agrafena Aleksandrovna – Grušen’ka, you understand? – she has her own history, and those who have their own history are on everyone’s lips.

Ivan: It’ll be my brother Dmitrij’s usual whim.

Smerdjakov: Well… It may be something more. Certainly something different.

Ivan: Dmitrij has a fiancée.

Smerdjakov: The noble miss Katerina Ivanovna.

Ivan: (with a softer tone, almost dreamily, clearly he’s thinking about Katja) …and there is not a girl more fine nor fascinating – (back to the harsh tone; note that after this rise he softens a bit) so?!

Smerdjakov: And who might say the contrary… but this Grušen’ka, as those who know her say, looks like she might have other… other requirements. I’ve told you she has a history and, for a man as intelligent as you are, it’s all said.

Ivan: (laughs) The shoes – get the bone shoe horn, the long one.

Smerdjakov: (kneeling to put the shoes on Ivan, who is sitting on the bed) And then there’s more that’s riling Dmitrij up, there’s almost a challenge.

Ivan: The gossiper that you are…

Smerdjakov: (laughs) If it were gossip, I wouldn’t speak, Ivan Fëdorovič, but I can always stop here, if you prefer.

Ivan: And speak, then, say what you want to say.

Smerdjakov: For… this Grušen’ka has, how can I say it – given his age, fallen in love is a kind term, is it? – the master fell for her, too.

Ivan: What master?

Smerdjakov: (Smerdjakov looks up to Ivan) Ours – (he looks at the shoe he’s putting on Ivan) mine. Fëdor Pavlovič, you father, sir. (laughs) He’s fallen madly in love!

Ivan: (as he kicks Smerdjakov away, sending him sprawling on the ground) You’re a reptile!

Smerdjakov: I swear on everything I believe that this is the truth!

Ivan: And since you don’t believe in anything, you perjure!

Smerdjakov: (as he gets up to his feet) I guarantee you, Ivan Fëdorovič – the master confided in me, and I already had to run some tasks for him at that lady’s… I don’t badmouth: I confide in you, if you allow me, of course… Fëdor Pavlovič, despite his age, is gone for her to the point he even wishes to marry her – (reaching for Ivan) to this, we’ve come!

Ivan: (he gets up, puts distance between him and Smerdjakov again) Do the two know?

Smerdjakov: The two? – you mean, the father and the son? (as he gets Ivan’s frac and helps him wear it) I believe so, and this is, I think, the true reason for the hatred: no more the heritage. And it’s not yet said that the older one won’t have it his way, Dmitrij’s impetus notwithstanding – and I find him a handsome young man, a young man who should be liked, on the contrary: who is liked, undoubtedly; but this time, in this challenge, eh!, who knows? Because it looks like this Grušen’ka lights, how can I say, lights the amorous fantasy in more mature… elderly men; it’s one of her particularities, they say.

Ivan: (angry) Stop it! – (then, distraught) I have no more need for you, I’m ready.

Smerdjakov: The coat is downstairs, in the wardrobe. I’m sorry I upset you, Ivan Fëdorovič.

Ivan: (still distraught, upset) I’m only thinking about poor Katerina Ivanovna; ignorant, I suppose… (he scratches at the door frame with his fingernails) that upsets me.

[INT. – AT KATERINA IVANOVNA’S/BALLROOM] min. 19:52

(the scene opens with the camera following a waiter carrying a teacups tray through a moderately crowded ballroom; he stops by M. Chochlakova and Lisa)

Waiter: Please, madame.

M. Chochlakova: (takes one of the offered teacups) Thank you.

Waiter: Some tea, miss?

(Lisa shakes her head; the camera returns to following the movement of the waiter amongst Katja’s guests, until he passes by Katerina herself and Ivan and focuses on them – note: Ivan isn’t wearing his cunty glasses anymore, but he’s cuntily holding a cigarette)

Ivan: Yes, I am… I am worried for Dmitrij, the argument with my father over that damned heritage is exasperating him: he withdraws, he hides; we can’t find him for days and days. Do you see him?

Katja: I was hoping to have him with us today, I had a note delivered to his domicile but… who knows if he’ll show up. However, you don’t have to worry so, Ivan Fëdorovič: I know Dmitrij, I know what is troubling him at this moment. We need to let his agitation placate naturally. Why did he target his father so intensely – because now he needs money and he doesn’t have any, and he’s so proud he won’t borrow from anyone: and so he gets exasperated.

Ivan: So you think, Katerina Ivanovna, that money might pacify him.

Katja: No, it’s not the money that gives him peace. Dmitrij is the most generous man I have ever known, money obsesses him only because it lets him act fully free.

Ivan: (smiles) Mh, I admire your intelligence and your… extraordinary lucidity; I did not think that a woman in love could see with such clarity the man she loves.

Katja: I believe it is love that makes me see so clearly, for Mitja’s sake. I know the situation I find myself in.

Ivan: Do you know about… the news, too?

Katja: I know the news, too. (she spots Dmitrij, who just entered) There he is! (she turns back to Ivan, their faces are very close) He came.

(the camera cuts to Dmitrij, standing very still; at Katja’s aunt’s call he comes towards her and kisses her hand)

Katja’s aunt: Dmitrij Fëdorovič, don’t pretend to be a statue, come closer!

Lisa: I hoped you would bring along your brother Alëša…

Dmitrij: Don’t you know he walks a different path than us? And he’s serious about it, my little brother – he’s not like us, he doesn’t mistake the devil for holy water (he spots Ivan and Katja sitting together) Anyway, I see another member of the Karamazov family already preceded me, and is already here.

(to Katja’s aunt) You really want us all, eh?

Katja’s aunt: We would really like to have you all – because you’re pleasant, you Karamazovs.

Katja: (she stands up and walks towards her aunt) Aunt, I’ll let you have him all for yourself later, but may I speak to him for a moment first?

Katja’s aunt: Youths and feelings’ rights, I’ve always respected.

Katja: Dmitrij Fëdorovič, if you’ll follow me. (she exits with Dmitrij following)

(the scene cuts off with a shot of Ivan pensively about to take a drag of his cigarette, he seems to be following Katja and Dmitrij with his gaze)

[INT. – AT KATERINA IVANOVNA’S/KATJA’S ROOM] min. 23:07

Katja: Come, Mitja, come.

Dmitrij: Will it be a long talk? Maybe an explanation?

Katja: (rummaging through a vanity) No. No, I just have a favour to ask you Mitja; you should send this parcel to Moscow for me, to my sister Agaf’ja Ivanovna. It’s not urgent but… you really must be the one doing it, Mitja, because no-one in the house should know.

Dmitrij: Would it be a secret, then?

Katja: There are three thousand rubles inside, my sister needs them, or her husband does, I didn’t understand very well. In any case, I’m sending them personally; there (she hands him the parcel) I told you you can do it at your leisure, then you’ll give me the receipt, but… it has to remain between us, understood?

Dmitrij: I’ll do it right now, I’ll bring you the receipt immediately – (he makes for a side door) can I leave from here? I’d rather not pass through the ballroom.

Katja: But why, Mitja, what are they going to say about this sudden escape?

Dmitrij: They’ll say… they’ll say you asked me to tend to an urgent and delicate matter. Isn’t it the truth, Katja? And then, you won’t be alone: someone from the family will keep you in good company – actually, I’m wondering, why didn’t you ask Ivan for this favour? He would’ve been happy to make himself useful.

Katja: What you’re saying isn’t worthy of you, Mitja. Maybe you don’t even really think it, but… you want to hurt me, I feel it.Dmitrij: Is there anything I’m not worthy of? What is it that’s not worthy of me? Come on, Katja, you know very well how low I can go. I’ll do what you asked me to, and without anyone knowing. (he leaves)

#the brothers karamazov #i fratelli karamazov #mitya karamazov #dmitri karamazov #ivan karamazov #katerina ivanovna verkhovtseva #pavel smerdyakov #sam.exe

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forgottenarthur · 19 days

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The Eagle & the Raven | Arthur & Edmund

It could easily be said that Edmund brought out the worst in Arthur. In truth, it wasn't any particular quality of either boy that made this so but, rather -- at least in Arthur's case -- what his brother represented to him. While Guinevere also offered a challenge to Arthur's own imperial hopes (and, indeed, needs -- Arthur did not believe he would survive his bid for the throne, should it fail), it was Edmund whom Arthur saw as the genuine threat.

Edmund was a collection of powers Arthur could not hope to contest, not really. Edmund was sharper, more calculating, and more educated. He was surrounded by witches, and heathen kings and gods were to be counted amongst his ancestors. He was subtle and slippery and Arthur rarely saw his barbs coming, till he came apart, all unprepared, the sharp sneer of his witnessing father clouding over Arthur's vision like the bright after-image of a blow to the head. But perhaps, indeed, Edmund's most formidable weapon was the one to which Arthur had the least resistance: he was Arthur's brother, and Arthur loved him. He knew that one day he must harm him, if he wished to survive, but Arthur had no desire to strike that blow.

Today, though? Today, he maybe did wish to hurt him. He couldn't say why, precisely, but the mere thought of Edmund pushed Arthur towards fury, and it was a fine feeling. This was how he ought to feel about him: his life would be easier if he did. The boys had bandied their usual barbs, that morning, and while Arthur was still smarting from them (these intellectual blows were always beyond his power to overwhelm), he'd caught the image of Edmund chatting with Aria from the corner of his eye while Arthur worked the practice yard. He'd been so absorbed in watching Aria's smiling eyes, locked on Edmund's, bloom into joy, that he'd not seen his opponent's blow coming, leaving Arthur staggering to the ground at the last moment. He'd lost the round -- and they were still talking as Arthur limped away.

It truly was a wretched day.

Arthur had been doing nothing but stewing since the event, but perhaps the thing that he regretted most of all was that he'd walked away from the fray -- not the practice yard: that was the only responsible and honorable move after his loss: but he could have walked up to Edmund and Aria, might have given a go at making her smile, himself, but instead he'd limped off to go nurse his wounds alone. So sure was he that Edmund's clever tongue would only leave him looking foolish in front of Aria, he'd not even given him the chance -- or taken the chance that perhaps (unlikely though it was), the matter might have gone another way, entirely. In truth, it wasn't Edmund's fault that Arthur had retreated before engaging -- but it was Edmund at whom he directed his anger.

His leg was still sore, but it was well enough, but still when he saw the opportunity approach -- he took it. As Edmund approached to take the last available chair, which happened to be beside Arthur, Arthur swung his leg up into it.

The ministers and generals were gathering, as they often did, for a conference with the emperor following the riots that week but -- they each of them in the room knew -- the emperor would leave them all waiting for hours till whatever time he decided he was quite ready. With the other ministers and generals all cahtting amongst themselves, no one noticed as Arthur beamed at his brother.

He gestured to the chair, grinning smugly to himself. "You don't mind standing, do you? My leg hurts like the blazes. But those're the risks we take, those of us brave enough to enter the training yard."

This was his go-to jibe, but it didn't satisfy him the way he wished, and he swallowed hard, glancing away from his brother in anger. Did she think he was more handsome? Funnier? More kingly? He was cleverer, Arthur knew that, he was quicker, and she liked high intellects. Aria was brilliant, really -- she knew everything about this place, its people, its rivers and its skies. She knew how to make the people love her, too. It was easy to love Aria -- quick wits and sharp tongue and spirited discourse, all. He couldn't blame Edmund if he'd set his sights on her. And he couldn't blame her, either, if she thought him a better match. Edmund was quick wits and sharp tongue and spirited discourse, too, in a way Arthur could never be. But it didn't stop the idea from making Arthur angry. Spiteful. It was an iron band around his chest.

All he did was try his best -- and it was never, ever enough. It made him sad. It made him angry. And it made him glare at Edmund, too, made him glare and cover it up with a glib smirk as if it mattered nothing to him.

He hadn't expected to feel this way, and he didn't like it. He didn't like what it meant. Didn't like how it felt. Didn't like that he'd likely lose this to Edmund, just as quickly as his father's crown. He was about to lose her. He could feel it. Just like he'd lost Eithne. Just like he would always lose.

"Or maybe you were too busy flirting with captives to join us, this morning?"

#the eagle and the raven #the eagle & the raven #comment #edmund varmont #itd been so long since i replied and sm has happened i thought id start these two anew <3 #(lbr we know arthur was losing that argument anyway -- and he knew it too ;D heehee)#anyway im sorry about him as always alksjdfkljdsf #hed lowkey be so embarrassed if he knew they were just fighting #but then he'd ultimately circle around to feeling insecure again bc that's how things started w him and aria too #facepalm #this got so long alkjsfkljsdkjf

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chandiewashere · 2 years

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𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 - prologue

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eris vanserra x reader; light tamlin x reader warnings: we're starting out strong with some short angst!! descriptions of heartbreak, tamlin is nice, guilt, nonlinear timeline, no reader pronouns, unbeta-ed we die like men series - wip ; taglist open

series m.list

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Nobody tells you what it feels like when your heart breaks.

You would think it’s sharp, like someone pushing a dagger through your heart. A stabbing pain that twinges every time you move.

It’s more subtle than that. A gentle throb, only enough to know it’s there. The feeling is a dull ache that knocks your breath out of your lungs, persuading you to not move too fast, breathe too deep, or cry too hard. It feels like falling, like the warmth after a burn, like a bruise starting to form. The breath never seems to reenter your lungs, and your mind never seems to defog.

If you had asked me to explain how it felt to look at him at that moment, I would’ve described it as heartbreaking. To know that we would never be able to love each other freely. We would always be looking over each other’s shoulders for threats. Cursed to only fleeting looks and heated gazes; a brush of a hand or a tug on a shirt.

The metal of my necklace burns my skin under my tunic, and his anguish vaguely floats into my mind.

I can see it echo in his eyes as I look at him from across the border, my family scrambling to take my cousin to the nearest healer. I linger only a moment, trying to convey what I can’t through words, and as I turn away, I wonder if I can see a hint of wetness in his eyes.

There was no other way.

Just as soon as the moment comes, it goes, and all I’m left with is a host of shattered dreams and an ache in my chest where they used to be.

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I’ve never seen Spring Court as beautiful as this.

Flowers decorate every arch and doorway, even the floor in some places, their perfume wafting through the air. The sun is low in the sky and casts a golden glow on everything it touches. Music and laughter sing, light and happy, in the space as the court’s guests twirl and dance in the courtyard.

I stand awestricken at the entrance for a moment before Spring’s High Lord walks up to me with Tamlin and his brothers in tow. My father steps forward to greet them with my mother on his arm, and I can’t help but think for a moment that they look made for each other.

As they exchange pleasantries, my eyes lock with Tamlin. He has a slight smile on his lips, and his auburn hair is swept up in a loose knot, a few strands tumbling from it and brushing against his brow. He tilts his head slightly in my direction, amusement in his eyes, and leans in to tell his father something.

I let my gaze wander to the courtyard as I feel my lips curve upwards, and my brother bumps his shoulder with mine.

When I look up, Rhysand dons a knowing smirk, and his brow quirks. I ready myself for whatever teasing remark he’s about to make as I feel a tap on my shoulder.

Tamlin suddenly stands in front of me with a hopeful expression and extended hand as he asks, “Care to share a dance with me?”

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The night goes by quickly, and as the hours go by, I find myself standing off to the side after Tamlin excused himself to greet more of his guests.

There’s a gentle smile on my lips while I sip the drink he had offered me before he left. My mind wanders to the pleasant conversation we were having, about a picnic, I believe, when I decide to stray from my place near the tables a bit. I’m sure Tamlin will find me regardless.

I stroll around the courtyard, noting some familiar faces and fae types. While looking off to the side, I fail to see the man standing with his back turned to me as I softly stumble into his broad shoulder.

As he turns around, I’m already apologizing, and he’s starting to say something, only for the words to die on our tongues as our eyes meet.

My breath hitches and I look into the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. They are somewhere between brown and orange, glinting like warm caramel and shining with mischief. The longer I stare into the warm pools, I begin to feel a tug, almost like something going taut.

I’m pulled out of my trance by Tamlin setting a gloved hand on my forearm. With a struggle, I force myself to look over at him.

“There you are; I’ve been looking all over. I wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Oh, I was just taking a walk,” I say quietly as I look back towards the man I had disturbed to find that he had effectively disappeared.

Tamlin says something else and mentions a walk in the garden, guiding me away from the crowd.

All I do is nod, pushing the experience to the back of my mind and faintly wonder if I’ll ever see those eyes again. Tamlin looks at me with a smile, and I hate the twinge of guilt that prods my chest.

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note: it's here! i'm actually really proud of this introduction, even though its pretty short. hopefully this will give you guys just a little taste of what this series is going to be like. i hope you enjoyed! also i just wanted to let you guys know that the taglist for the series is officially open!

#a dangerous game of love and trust #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #chandie.writes #chandies.fics #acotar x reader #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin x reader #unbeta'd

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bunysliper · 2 years

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Castle Ficlet: Onlooker (Take the Stairs verse) 1/1

Onlooker (Take the Stairs verse)

She wasn't eavesdropping, not really. It was just hard not to pay attention to the people around her in the coffee shop, and even more difficult to pretend she wasn't watching the people at the end of the bank of tables. All four of them.

Between the cheerful squeals from the kids and the deep laughter from their father, they certainly weren't being subtle about enjoying their time together and didn't seem to care that they were getting people's eyes on them. It was cute, though, watching the little ones creep closer to their father, seeing the eldest's face light up when the others turned to her. It was obvious that their father was woefully outnumbered, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, it looked like he was relishing in all of it, cradling the little ones and listening to the eldest as they all settled in and tucked into the drinks – hot chocolate for the kids, she was sure – and the snacks in front of them.

Kate's cheeks heated a little when his head swiveled in her direction and his eyes met hers, catching her in her study.

He grinned, gesturing for her to join them with the casual tilt of his head.

For a moment, she felt bad; she was supposed to still be working, giving the four of them the chance to have fun with one another. But she'd wrapped up the paperwork early and hadn't been able to resist tracking them down, even if she'd tried (and failed) to keep her distance.

"Hey you," Rick called when she didn't move from her chair. "Thought you weren't going to be done for another couple of hours; we were going to meet you at the precinct."

Kate laughed softly, getting to her feet and closing the distance to her family. She should've known better than to try to stay away.

"Finished early," she explained, leaning over to kiss Alexis first, then Anna and Eli, before dragging a chair closer to her fiancé and touching her lips to his.

Rick hummed against her mouth, shifting the twins on his lap and making sure Eli didn't land face first as he tried to crawl into Kate's arms instead.

"Well, I'm glad you decided to meet us here," he said, checking Anna's face to make sure she hadn't crammed too big a bite of marble cake into her mouth. "Buy you a coffee?"

Kate nodded, rubbing a fingertip over her son's cheek. Already, Rick was getting to his feet to do just that. "Please. And while you're gone, I'll get these guys to tell me exactly what was so funny a few minutes ago."

Across from her Alexis threw her head back and laughed.

"Okay, so..."

#Fluffy Friday #Caskett #Caskett Fanfic #Castle Fanfic #Castle Fanfiction #My Fanfic #Picture Prompt #Take the Stairs #Take the Stairs verse #Castle AU Fic

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crypticcodexcreations · 1 year

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First Meeting

So, I wrote something with the demon and the priest.

TW: vague, minor mentions of suicide in a way, horny demon who is not subtle about it

Thunder rolled as Oliver approached the small house. He noticed that the windows were dark and he didn’t see much sign that anyone was home. Steven’s parents had been sure that he would be here though, so he stepped up to the door, closing his umbrella and giving it a small shake to get the rain off before turning back to the door. Just as he was about to knock, it opened and he found himself face to face with who he assumed to be Steven.

“What?” As Steven spoke, Oliver noticed how disheveled he looked, hair unkempt and in sore need of a cut, hoodie rumpled.

“Hello Steven. I’m Father Oliver. Your parents were worried about you and asked me to come speak with you.” Steven sighed, then shrugged before turning back into the house.

“Alright. Not like I have anything better to do today.” Oliver stepped into the house, finding a spot to leave his umbrella and wiping his feet on the mat. Steven motioned to a couch nearby.

“Go ahead and sit I guess. I’m gonna get a beer, want one?” Oliver hesitated mid-step as the words left Steven’s mouth. Before he could answer, Steven chuckled. “Right. Priest. Too good to have fun.” Oliver sighed, deciding not to bother to respond to that as he finished his trip to the couch and sat down, the worn springs creaking slightly beneath his weight. He tried to gather his thoughts while Steven was in the kitchen.

From the way Steven’s parents had spoken about him, Oliver had expected someone around eighteen, just out on the own for the first time, not someone around his own age. He listened as the fridge shut, thunder rolling outside. When Steven came into the room he opened his mouth to speak only for the words to die on his tongue as lightning flashed and he saw the truth.

For that brief moment, he saw Steven’s eyes truly, a mismatched red and yellow, slit pupils studying him. He also saw the small red horns protruding from his black hair. He felt sick as he realized that this was not Steven. He was face to face with a demon.

The demon plopped down in a chair across from him, taking a long sip from the beer before raising an eyebrow.

“You gonna talk or what?” Oliver swallowed, deciding the best way to handle this was being direct.

“Where is Steven?” He flinched slightly as the demon laughed.

“You feeling ok, Father? I’m sitting right in front of you.” Oliver shook his head. He refused to drop this.

“I saw your eyes. You’re not Steven.” At that, the demon scowled, giving up a bit more quickly than Oliver had expected.

“Ugh, fine. I’m just using his body, ok? Back off.” Oliver tried to keep his breath steady.

“Give that young man his body back.” He hoped that he sounded strong, but he felt very small all of a sudden. The demon laughed at him.

“He doesn’t want it! Our deal was that he’d let me use it so long as he never has to come back! Now what next, Oliver?” As his name left the demon’s lips, he instinctively recoiled, frowning.

“Father Moriarty.” The demon snorted at his assertion, setting the beer on the small, worn coffee table between them.

“You said Oliver earlier.” Oliver glared, wishing that looks could kill in that moment.

“If you are going to address me, it will be as Father Moriarty. Vacate that body and return Steven.” His ultimatum only got him an annoyed glare.

“What didn’t you understand before? Steven is gone. He’s not coming back. He didn’t want to either. I told him this could be temporary, but he said no thanks! Get that through your thick skull, ok?” The demon stood, waving a hand casually as he spoke.

Oliver didn’t know what to expect next. He had never thought he would actually run into a demon. Oliver stood, trying to think clearly, silently begging the Lord to show him what to do as he closed the distanced between himself and the demon.

“You are not welcome here, demon. Now begone!” The demon froze at his words, staring at him wide eyed for a split second before screaming and sinking to the floor, screams turning to sobs. Oliver looked down, knowing that had to be too easy, but hoping anyways. What he hoped was Steven looked up at him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve sinned, Father. I’ve sinned so much, forgive me.” A part of Oliver worried it was all an act. But if it wasn’t, and he acted harshly, how could he forgive himself? Slowly, cautiously, he knelt down beside Steven, praying for a sign of what to do.

“It is alright. I am here for you.” Steven sniffled as Oliver spoke, wiping his tears with his sleeve.

“Thank you, Father.” He paused, seeming unsure. Oliver met his eyes, the original blue still, slowly starting to relax. He had seen the demon’s eyes before, so he hoped that if this were a trick he would see them again.

“Do you have a question?” Steven nodded, swallowing before he spoke.

“It’s just… Father is so formal… Can I-“ He cut off, trying to get his breathing back to normal before continuing. “Can I call you daddy?”

As he smirked, Oliver once again saw those demonic eyes, accompanied by sharp teeth. He recoiled so quickly that he fell over, slamming onto the floor.

“Absolutely not you foul creature!” The demon stood, cackling.

“You’re such a fool! You think you can get rid of me that easily? Look.” The laughter faded and the demon’s tone turned serious. “I’m just living here. I don’t even really wanna be here. It’s the other guys you’ve gotta worry about!” Oliver’s eyes widened at that.

“The others?” The demon chuckled, looking down at Oliver.

“Oops! Me and my big mouth! Now you’ll have to go hunt down the actual trouble makers! Man, I can’t believe I ended up helping you!” Oliver snarled, doing his best to get to his feet.

“Not before I get rid of you.” The demon groaned, dragging a palm down his face.

“Really? Look, Oliver, you did your best, now just tell the kid’s parents whatever will help you sleep at night and get off my back before I have to do something about it.” Oliver glared into the demon’s eyes.

“And what are you-“ Before he could finish and faster than any human should be able to move, the demon grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against a wall.

“You’re no match for me, Oliver, and as fun as being choked is, I don’t much like being the giving end. Now will you either put me in my place and make me scream or just get out of my face?” Oliver squirmed in the demon’s grip, realizing quickly that he wasn’t squeezing hard enough to completely cut off his air flow. The demon was toying with him. One hand tried futilely to pry the demon’s fingers away, while the other fumbled for his cross.

“I refuse, demon. You will return to Hell!” The demon laughed as Oliver failed to pull free from his grasp.

“Oh yeah? How-OW!” The demon howled in pain as the antique silver came into contact with his hand, reeling back and releasing Oliver. As the demon fell away from him, Oliver gasped for breath, rubbing his neck. It was only a few moments later that he realized his cross was gone. He looked to the demon, cradling his hand on the floor.

“What did you do?!” The demon stood slowly, holding out his hand where the shape of the cross was burned into the back of it.

“You bound me!” He sounded angry, but almost immediately grinned. “Guess that means you’re Master now~” He laughed, only to choke on his laughter when Oliver punched him in the face.

“What are you talking about, demon?” The demon sighed, annoyance seeping into his words.

“That cross was a binding relic. Didn’t think any existed anymore. I am now bound to do your bidding, within certain restrictions.” Oliver stared, eyes wide. He had a pact with a demon? That sounded ridiculous. Then again, if someone had told him this trip would become meeting a demon, that would have sounded ridiculous this morning. Still, he knew his first and only order.

“Return to Hell.” The demon shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“You need to break the binding to banish me. Don’t you know anything about the relic you were wearing around your neck?” Oliver glared, deciding to ignore the demon’s question.

“Then you are going to help me find a way to break it. But first you will help me purge the world of these others you mentioned.” The demon laughed, clearly disbelieving.

“You want to play demon hunter?” Oliver groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The Lord has put me in this situation for a reason.” The demon sighed.

“I’m not getting laid, am I?”

#writing excerpts #Father Oliver Moriarty #Steven the Demon #Demon Hunting Demon WIP

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