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words-with-wren · 7 months ago

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@chrumblr-whumblr day three: Carrying

Fandom: Endeavour. Four and a half years and I am BACK I missed these boys even though they break my heart <3 kinda bad but all of these are. Barely any editing OR even proof reading I'm ready 20 minutes late and posting from my phone woopsies

Word count: 2,170

It was raining. Morse hunched in his coat, squinting bitterly up at the water coming through the trees. The sun hadn’t even started lighting up the area, and the whole morning had an air of misery about it.

“Morning, Matey.” Strange’s greeting was altogether far too cheerful for the early hour of the morning and Morse turned his glare onto the other man. Dimly, he found himself for the first time a little envious of the uniform Strange sported--the hat and coat looked altogether far more suited for the weather than Morse’s own clothing.

Morse just nodded in response, risking a hand from the safety of his pocket to wipe wet hair out of his face.

“You really think we’re going to find something in this?” Jakes joined the two of them, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, looking positively damp. He was holding a torch in his other hand, the light illuminating the falling rain in a narrow beam. Morse found some small vindication that the sargent looked about as miserable as he felt.

His vindication disappeared a moment later when Jakes flashed the light of the torch directly into his eyes for a split second. Morse squinted abruptly, blinking at the momentary blindness. He decided he wasn’t in the mood for a fight and assumed that was an accident.

“If there is anything, we should start looking soon,” Morse muttered. He hunched his shoulders, trying to find some comfort in his soaking coat and staring at a single point while waiting for his eyes to readjust. “The rain’ll wash it away soon.”

“If it hasn’t already,” Jakes muttered. He put the unlit cigarette between his teeth. It sagged disappointingly, wet through. Deserved.

“The doctor said it’d be a knife, ‘bout so large.” Strange held up his hands as he was speaking, indicating a length about five centimetres long. Morse nodded, turning his attention to the woods.

The chances were low that the murder weapon was still in the woods where the body had been found, but DeBryn had said there had been some kind of struggle, and likely not all of the blood found splattered across the scene was the victim’s.

It was possible the weapon was still lying somewhere in the woods. Morse was of the opinion that their efforts could be better spent chasing other leads, but orders were orders and now here he was, standing soaked in the rain.

“Right then,” Jakes said, taking charge of the situation. A few other uniformed officers mingled around and it didn’t take long for a search to be organised, starting from where the body had been found that morning and steadily branching further out.

Morse found himself trudging through the wet forest, mud on the ground sticking uncomfortably at his boots, sweeping his torchlight over the muddy ground. At least he’d thought to pick up some wellys before heading out--his feet were about the only part of him not soaked through.

He scanned the ground as he went, hoping something would come up soon so they could all go and get warm and follow more useful branches of inquiry. The route he was following started drifting steadily downhill, and Morse had to withdraw his hand from his pocket to keep his balance, grabbing onto tree branches and trunks as he went, torch held tight in his other hand.

The mud was slippery and he almost lost his balance more than once, grabbing onto a tree to catch himself. His hair was back in his eyes and he wiped it out of his face again with frustration.

They wouldn’t even be able to get anything useful out of any evidence they found--a murder weapon would be one thing, but after this rain there was no way they’d be able to get any prints off it. This was all a useless waste of time.

Something flashed in the light his torch cast and he paused, one hand resting on a nearby tree trunk. He aimed the beam of the torch towards whatever it was, making out something sliver dangling from the branch of a tree. He stepped forward and suddenly a sharp pain bust through his foot.

He was on the ground before he realised what had happened, face pressed uncomfortably into cold mud. Pain flashed through his foot and he gasped, pushing himself up onto one hand.

Great, now he was wet and muddy. Not to mention his foot was throbbing in a concerning way. He shifted to sit but had to gasp out in pain, vision flashing white as he moved his foot.

He managed to catch himself before he fell back into the mud, but the world twisted and spun around him dizzyingly. HIs torch lay on the ground nearby, a beam of light illuminating the mud in an almost golden hue, sparkling dots of rain flashing through the light.

A root was jutting out of the mud just beside his feet and he glared at it--clearly the culprit that he’d missed in the wet and mud.

He managed to awkwardly shift into a sitting position and retrieve his torch, eyes watering with pain every time he moved his leg. Supporting himself with one hand, he glared at his foot as though that would make it stop hurting.

He wasn’t going to be able to walk on that he realised a moment later. With a groan, he started digging in his pockets with one hand, finally withdrawing the whistle Jakes had given him before they left the station.

He blew sharply on it, automatically blasting out three short bursts, three long, and another three short. Someone would be near enough to hear and come to his aid. While he waited, he turned his torchlight onto the silver thing, still caught in a tree. It looked like some kind of locket, sparkling in his torchlight, and he hoped that whatever picture was in it hadn’t been ruined by the rain. That could be an important clue.

“Morse?” Strange’s voice called from the trees a few paces away, and Morse could make out the flash of his torchlight.

“Over here,” he called. “Twisted my ankle.” His voice carried a note of bitterness as he spoke, trying not to think too hard about how this was going to take a few days to come right again.

Strange appeared through the trees a moment later, still looking positively dry. Morse, sitting propped up against a tree, his leg stretched in front of him, covered in mud and rain, glared up at him.

“You alright, matey?” Strange asked. Morse scowled.

“I will be. Just give me a hand up.” Strange moved towards him but Morse spoke again. “Wait, before you do.” He flashed his torch at the locket again. “I found that.”

“Of course you did,” Strange said good naturedly. He followed Morse’s torch beam and carefully tugged the locket off the branch it was stuck on. Tucking it safely into a pocket for later inspection, he turned his attention to Morse, in the process flashing the torchlight into his eyes.

He squinted, holding a hand up and Strange apologetically dropped the light.

“Sorry Matey,” he said, clicking the torch off and slipping it into another pocket. That unform coat really did have a number of pockets.

“You’re as bad as Jakes,” Morse grumbled. But it was noticeably lighter now, and the torches were beginning to not be needed. Morse kept his on regardless--he didn’t want Strange tripping on an invisible root and joining him on the ground.

“Up you get then,” Strange said, holding out a hand. Morse grabbed it with his free one, but the moment he tried to pull himself up, he jostled his leg and let out a scream of pain. He sagged back, eyes squeezed shut against the flash and steady throbbing coming from his ankle.

“I’m okay,” he said, waving away Strange’s anxious hovering. “Just let me catch my breath.”

“I don’t think you can walk on that,” Strange said. Morse just groaned in response. At least his boot was doing a better job at keeping his ankle tight than his usual shoes. Though taking it off was going to be a nightmare.

That was a later problem, now he had to figure out how to stand up so they could get out of this miserable forest and somewhere dry.

“Everything alright?” Jakes appeared through the bushes, the morning light strong enough to illuminate his pale face. Morse didn’t have the energy to glare up at him, his foot was hurting too much and his irritation at being seen in such a state by the sargent a secondary matter right now. “No time to be sitting down on the job, Morse.”

“He’s twisted his ankle,” Strange explained. Morse just nodded.

“Touch luck,” Jakes said. “Best be getting you to Casualty then.”

“I would if I could stand,” Morse muttered. He shut his eyes as another wave of pain flushed through his foot.

“I’ll carry you back,” Strange offered. Morse opened his eyes again, his pride battling for a moment with the pain emanating from his foot.

“Morse is a skinny blighter but I dunno if you can carry him yourself,” Jakes said, staring down at Morse with a critical eye. Then he flicked off his own torch and tucked it away--it was more than light enough to see by now--and moved to Morse’s side.

Before Morse could really process what was happening, he found himself wedged in between Jakes and Strange, one on either side of him. Both of them tucked an arm under him and their other behind his back and Morse found himself lifted between the two of them. He instinctively threw an arm over each of their necks to stop himself topping forward.

“Easy goes now,” Jakes muttered. Morse gritted his teeth as their movements jostled his foot, determined not to show any more pain.

It didn’t take long to get back to where the cars had packed on the edge of the forest. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, and Morse felt bone wearily exhausted. He was lowered to the ground and somehow managed to remain standing, leaning almost all of his weight on Strange and holding his foot up. Jakes ducked forward to open one of the cars.

“You finish up here,” he said to Strange. “I’ll get him to Casualty. And then home.”

Both of them fixed Morse with a long stare at that, but Morse just nodded. He was too exhausted to protest, and right now he wanted nothing more than to sleep off the pain.

They managed to manoeuvre him into the back seat of the car, where he could stretch his leg out over the seats and Morse only briefly blacked out for a second.

“Oh, here,” Strange said, fishing out the locket he had tucked away safely. “I’ll see you back at the nick,” he added to Jakes. Jakes nodded from the driver’s seat, a lit cigarette alright between his lips now he was out of the rain.

Jakes didn’t say anything as he pulled away from the forest, moving quickly along the road. Morse bit down a groan of pain as the movement of the car jostled his foot, but it faded to a bearable dull throbbing soon enough.

(He kept catching Jakes glancing in the rear mirror. There wasn’t anyone behind them, so he didn’t know why almost every time he looked up he made eye contact through the small glass.)

“What’s the locket?” Jakes asked, finally breaking the silence. Morse couldn’t help be a little grateful for the distraction.

He pulled it out, examining it closely. It had initials on it--F.C. The letters seem familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place it yet. Carefully, he pried it open.

The image inside was of the victim--a young man named Joseph Ethans.

“It’s got Ethans in it,” Morse reported. He caught Jakes’ eye in the mirror again. “Doesn’t seem like something he’d own though.”

“A girlfriend’s?” Jakes asked. Morse frowned, biting down a hiss of pain as Jakes took a corner a little too sharply.

“F.C.,” he mused. Jakes made a questioning noise. “The initials on the locket.”

“That’s the girlfriend’s name, right?” Jakes said. “Felicity Clarke.”

“What’s her locket doing out in the woods then?” Morse asked, closing it again and tucking it safely into a pocket.

“Maybe he was going to give it to her?”

“I think we may need to question her a little more closely,” Morse said quietly. “DeBryn did say the killing wounds were weaker than one would expect from a grown man.”

“You think the girlfriend offed him?” Jakes asked.

“Maybe--aah!” He said the last as Jakes skipped a curb.

“Sorry,” Jakes said. “Almost there.”

“We’d better be,” Morse muttered. He shut his eyes, feeling strangely satisfied despite the throbbing ankle. Maybe the morning hadn’t been a complete waste of time after all.

The rain outside finally made way for a weak winter’s sun.

#wren writes #chrumblr whumblr challenge #carrying #endeavour #endeavour morse #endeavour fanfiction #GOSH i missed writing him #hopefully more coming soon hehe i have PLANS #anyway everyone say a big thank you to my laptop #she did a valliant job at Not Dying until id finished writing this and was about to post #round of applause please #i need to be better at feeding her

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sirtadcooper · 1 year ago

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❝ your top 15 favorite tv shows can say a lot about your personality ❞

I was tagged by @eohwyyn! Thanks very much. <3

Arrested Development

Black Books

Black Sails

Blackadder (series 2-4)

Derry Girls

Doctor Who

Galavant

Our Flag Means Death

Person of Interest

Primeval (series 2)

Schitt's Creek

Taskmaster

The Good Place

The Musketeers

The Terror

I'm tagging a handful of recent followers (only if you want to share): @blakbonnet, @alienmythologist, @officious-sea-lawyer, @ruggedbrilliance and @dorkybooktrash. :)

#in alphabetical order because i Refuse to make any kind of decision #tagged #eohwyyn #i'm sure i've forgotten something very obvious #i would love an analysis of my personality based off this list actually #i have the range darling #edit: OH MY GOSH EARLY ENDEAVOUR!!!#knew there was something

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strawby-fields · 1 year ago

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video games 🤯

#continuing my persona 5 endeavours and oh my gosh #thoughts

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gojoswhitebabydolllashes · 3 days ago

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Please do a jayvik x reader where reader is their assistant and constantly glances at the both or them while they're working and either Viktor or jayce catches her in the act

YES OF COURSE! I think this idea is so good!

A/N: This is a little bit suggestive but very minor. Mostly just jayvik teasing reader.

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You've been assisting Jayce and Viktor for many months now. You've learnt many things about them, like how jayce enjoys a cup of milk late at night and when viktor is tired he'll hum to himself. You've brought them Drinks and food and helped them out with their blueprints and stacks of paper. You were their doting and loyal assistant always happy to lend a hand.

But you thought you were subtle in your actions, how you always snuck glances at jayce when he was flexing his tanned muscles while hammering something, or how you always gazed perhaps too long on viktor's nimble fingers working on small cogs.

Late one night in the lab as you sorted through a stack of diagrams as per viktor's request, You snuck a small glance at the two males at the desk working and conversing. Jayce's arms sat flexed and heavy against the table, his white button-up shirt rolled up his arms. Beside him, viktor was giving much darker vibes, his lips are close together in a line and he's got a slight arch in his brow. His red tie is loose and his sweater vest is undone by one button.

Safe to say you were pretty entranced by them.

Both are illuminated by a dim Amber light coming from the evening sky outside, and it only adds to their beauty.

"Is there something on my face?" Jayce knocks you out of your trance, his face decorated with a boyish smirk.

You scoffed and looked away. "You're really funny talis," you said sarcastically, your eyes rolling back in the process.

"I think you're pretty funny too." Two large hands sat on your desk.

You looked up to see Jayce. His dark eyes are boring holes into you as his square jaw clenches slightly. You see and feel something in his gaze that makes you feel on fire.

"I think it's funny that you think we don't see how you look at us"

Jayce's face grins when he sees the beet red tint blanket your face, your jaw hangs low as the two of them begin to laugh.

"I didn't mean to make you both uncomfortable I jus-"

"You're scaring her, jayce. Relax, love, it's okay. " viktor held up his bony hand with a small smile. "Were not interrogating you, ignore him"

You took a deep breath and stood up to find a new pencil. You could feel the two scientists' eyes still on you. One like honey one like midnight, but both equally as enthralling.

"If I've done something wrong, please tell me"

"You haven't done anything wrong, love. Why didn't you mention you had a crush on us? Were not that scary, are we?" Jayce finishes his sentence with a deep chuckle.

"No, of course not, but your both-", you fixed your glasses. ",well your both quite attractive and a bit out of my league, so I just decided to stay quiet,"

Both jayce and viktor stepped closer to you, the two of them putting a hand on either shoulder for some kind of comfort. You first looked at viktors honey golden eyes. They were gentle and encircled by dark tint.

"You weren't very quiet with your eyes movements, dear. Infact I'm surprised you didn't notice either of us also looking at you, we've caught you staring many times"

"What?" Your mouth fell agape.

Jayce laughed. "Of course we noticed. You were staring when viktor was fixing his tie earlier last night before we left for the meeting"

Viktor interrupted. "And at that very same meeting, I caught you drooling over jayce when he was giving his speech"

By now, you were bright red and hiding behind your hands. You could've died right then and there of pure embarrassment. You couldn't believe that your secret endeavours of glancing upon your superiors had finally been noticed.

"Oh my gosh I had no idea!" You exclaimed.

Trying to help with your blushing but failing deeply, and really only making it worse, jayce put his hand in yours. It was rough and calloused and warm and felt like home. You were at home with them and you hoped that they would be understanding about this all.

"How would you like to upgrade from assistant to partner? It's a full-time position,"

Viktor grinned and ran his free hand through his hair, the other holding his cane.

"Are you... serious?" You looked at the both of them. Eyes darting back and forth.

They both nodded eagerly. "You've been deeply loyal and loving to us for many months now, and you've become more to us than just an assistant," jayce spoke as he held your hand tightly.

Quickly, almost embarrassingly so, you said yes. Viktor planted soft kisses to your cheek.

"Come with us dear"

#arcane #jayvik fic #jayvik x reader #arcane viktor x reader #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #arcane fic #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

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Asgard's Greatest Lover [Brodinsons]

Part of the Brother Collection A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: An offhand comment leads to a salty trip down memory lane. (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: Squabbling. D*ck measuring contests to fluff. Implied smut references.

“Loki, she’s looking over-” Despite best efforts to ignore it, the meaty elbow jostling the god’s ribs made him wince. “Loki, look, in the stand yonder. She’s looking, Loki- look” Thor boomed excitedly, bouncing in his seat. “Will you desist?” Loki spat, hissing under his breath.

He could feel blood warming his cheeks, the volume of Thor's attempt at subtlety making him wish a portal would swallow him whole. He shouldn't have come. He didn't even like tennis. And yet, as always, here he was. With his public embarrassment of a brother. Loki grimaced as Thor began to point.

“But look hence...she noticed you! Perhaps she wishes to bid us good day.” He began to raise his arm, the start of a floppy wave which would likely be seen from space. “Wave, Loki- look, brother, see-!” Loki’s hand shot out, forcing the over-excited gesture down. “She’s wondering if you have utterly lost control of your faculties, brother;” Loki snarled, trying his best to look menacing. “As am I.”

Thor chortled, straightening a muscle vest which was three sizes too small. “Oh, Loki. You never have been very good at this sort of thing,” he sighed, letting his enthused gaze roam up and down the pristine grass court as Stark Industries friends and family took their seats. “It truly is a boon that you have one such as I to guide you in this romantic endeavour.” Loki raised his brows. He knew he shouldn’t take the bait. Especially in public. Especially today. But it was just too tempting.

“Whatever could you mean, brother?” he crooned, giving his most stoic side-eye with a tilt of his chin. He felt Thor bristle, telltale nervous fingering of blonde strands behind his ear letting Loki know the warning pitch of his voice had hit as intended.

“Well, Loki, it’s no secret that your love life has been fraught with unfortunate malaise where seduction is concerned,” “Unfortunate?” Loki said coldly, “I wouldn’t call a reputation as Asgard’s greatest lover unfortunate.”

Thor spluttered, shaking his head with sanctimonious laughter. “Ah, my little brother. I do admire the unshakeable esteem with which you hold your delusions.”

The dark brother’s grip tightened on the bleacher bench. “And I suppose you believe that title belongs to you, does it?” he sneered through gritted teeth. Poison flecked the words, dripping from his tongue like venom from a fang. Thor’s eyes narrowed. “I have the relic which proves it,” he shrugged.

“The one our mother gave you in solace when Jane left?” Loki snarled, “Pathetic. I doubt she even knew what it truly meant, just echoed your boorish claims thinking it was based in chivalry,” he paused. “At least, I hope that was her intent.” They stared at each other in pregnant silence.

“It matters not that mother gifted me said ceramic receptacle,” Thor said through gritted teeth. “What matters is, that my legend reaches far beyond the bifrost to bedchambers across nine realms, brother.” A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Whereas yours is rather more contained to the palace servant quarters.” “That was one instance,” Loki spat, “and she was the most comely chambermaid we’d ever had.” “I’m sure,” Thor huffed, rolling his eyes. He brought one fist in front of Loki’s face, flexing an ostentatious bulge of bicep. “I was too busy giving the princess of Nilfheim a shudder of my very special thunder to notice.” He smirked, delivering a slow wink to punctuate his prowess. “She was never the same afterwards, you know.” Loki stared open mouthed, before he burst into raucous laughter.

From across the court, Steve immediately stood with a snap; hands on his hips with the most uptight death glare Loki had ever seen. “This is tennis,” Steve squawked. “For gosh’s sakes, have some respect.”

Through tears of mirth, Loki saw you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle. She recognises that Rogers is ridiculous, he thought. Good. That’s good.

Regaining his composure, Loki straightened. He smoothed his hair behind his ears, picking up the gauntlet his brother had carelessly cast down.

“Never the same. Quite.” he mused thoughtfully, collecting himself. “I can believe that your relentless dry-thrusting, lack of imagination and moans which sound suspiciously like the name of your talisman would scar her for life, yes.” “Leave Mjölnir out of this,” Thor snapped. Loki smirked, eyes wandering casually to where you sat. “The rumours are true then. Interesting.” he murmured slyly. Thor crossed and re-crossed his legs, the bleacher creaking beneath his weight. “She was perfectly satisfied,” the blonde grumbled, shifting his feet. Loki snorted. “Brother, you could not satisfy a woman if the key to unlocking her pleasure was written in parchment and propped upon her belly.” Thor stared, blankly. “Ah, yes – I forgot. A woman’s pleasure is not your forte is it,” Loki sneered, casting a quick glance towards his brother’s reddening face. “From what I heard, your attempts have been tragic at worst and laughable at best-” “Loki,” Thor warned, glancing anxiously at the people filling the seats behind them. But Loki continued, un-phased.

“Did you truly think you were to rub it with your chin?” He let out a harsh ooo, before sucking the air between his teeth.

“Those unfortunate women,” he drawled with feigned solemnity. “They didn’t want to hurt your feelings. ‘Asgard’s greatest lover’...please.” Thor tried to speak then thought better of it. Loki felt the glee begin to rise in his chest as he tasted victory in the air. “I felt moved for her when she hobbled from your chambers, poor thing. What did she cite for her impromptu departure, I wonder? Headache, was it?” He looked at his brother. The glazed look of bamboozled betrayal in his eyes told Loki that he was in fact, correct.

“Thankfully, I had just run a rather luxurious bath for myself which the lady found most soothing to aid her discomfort,” Loki purred, throwing his scarlet-faced sibling a knowing glance. “She was very grateful for my healing hands. And other anatomical attentions.”

Thor stared with slack-jawed disbelief.

The dark-haired god flicked his keen gaze towards you again. He let his eyes track up the skin of your bare calf, glinting in the afternoon sun. Supple, he pondered; thanking the Norns for the light breeze which rustled your skirt. On cue, you sipped from a large water bottle. Loki smirked.

“I was not aware that I was now a figure of such...ridicule. How times have changed.” Loki frowned as his moment of voyeurism was disturbed by Thor’s quiet mewl. With a sigh of resignation he swivelled, their knees touching. He reached for his brother’s hand, lowering his chin with sincerity in his eyes.

“Brother, that is not so” Loki said softly, “you have always been a figure of ridicule.”

Thor let out a shaky laugh, nodding. “I can always count on you to cheer me, brother” he said, patting Loki’s hand. Loki nodded once in acknowledgement. “Perhaps the next time you think yourself above me in the art of seduction, you will remember this conversation.”

“One can hope,” Thor chirped.

Loki rolled his eyes, retracting his hand. Polite clapping erupted as the first of the day’s players walked onto the court, waving at the crowds. He could feel Rogers suspicious stare burning into him from the other side of the grass, but he paid it no mind. “You truly think the odds are in my favour, brother?” Loki murmured thoughtfully, nodding subtly in your direction.

The two of them craned to catch a glimpse, the figure of his affections now half-obscured by a sea of lesser bodies. Your demure facial expression gave nothing away, but a pat on the shoulder from Natasha soon made you break into a dazzling smile. How she is not a goddess, I shall never know, Loki pondered; feeling his heart melt into his stomach and transform to a sea of butterflies. The redhead nudged her chin upwards, urging you to look up where the two gods stood. Staring. “Gods,” Loki hissed regretfully, continuing to clap like a fool. There was nothing else to be done. The boorishness of his brother had once again drawn the wrong kind of attention. But try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Perhaps she has some magic of her own, he mused.

Thor’s elbow jostled against his ribs, “I told you, Loki” he chortled, “god of chaos or not, I would say that the odds are most definitely in your favour where your lady is concerned.” “Truly?” Loki breathed, his heart beating faster as you gave him a small, bashful wave. “Truly,” Thor said, giving his brother’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Tags (if you'd rather stick with smutty stuff please let me know!) @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @goddessofwonderland @muddyorbsblr @arch-venus25 @nine-leafclover

#loki fluff #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki and thor #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki gif #loki marvel #loki fanfic #jotun #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x female reader

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cmkren · 18 days ago

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— a human’s touch

; house x gn! reader

Maybe in some other lifetime romanticism wasn’t lost to House. That he had grown into a man capable of giving clear-cut affections— and capable of receiving it as well. The first ever puzzle he never wanted to solve, and it was of his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about it all. You tied yourself to him after all.

In your lap, maybe that fact of House’s could be forgotten. For an hour or two.

a/n: i’ve never written for house, or house md at all. Currently in s4, and I’m just so attached to this crowd of misfits. I’m sorry if he ends up ooc— I just wanted to write something as close to fluff as I can with house LMAO 😭

tws; nothing you wouldn’t find in the show — 1.08k words

“What, are we playing mommy and her sexually frustrated boytoy? I don’t recall putting this into the search bar.”

“I don’t think you’re young and spry enough to be playing the pool boy in this scenario. Take as much offence as you’d want to that shocking revelation.”

Despite the very particular banter, nothing nefarious was happening in this scene. It was quite normal actually. In the tidiness of his apartment the two steeped in each other’s presence. Steeped may have been a strange word for it, but it fit the two. House was chatty like always, but even now and then he had grown quiet. Either getting caught by a specific feature of his partner (still thick on his tongue, not something he ever says really) or deep in his own thoughts.

What prompted him to make the off handed remark? Some might ask, especially when they were having such a peaceful moment!

The obvious answer would be because he’s House. What else was he supposed to do? The not-so-obvious answer was the strange feeling in his chest, as his head lay against the thighs of the person he oh-so cautiously let pull him down to such a position. If he turned his head sideways, you’d most certainly feel the prick of his unkempt beard.

He flexes his fingers, arms sort of kept… limp. Close to his chest. The pale blue of his eyes looking up to the other, brow wrinkled into a furrow as he felt awkward. He only allowed himself to be so hesitant for a second more before he went slack jawed and widened his eyes— a mockery of coming to another ‘revelation’.

“Oh! Pray tell me then, what are we?” Spoken like a young teenager picking out lines from a rom-com they watched the day before to aid them in romantic endeavours. His arms even moving just the slightest to resemble a ‘gosh darn it!’ kind of movement. That garnered an amused noise out of you, your hand very gently resting atop his mess of hair.

“Not we, you. What you are, is a man who can’t even sit still and let me dote on you. So I resorted to,” your free hand gestured to him. Legs stretched and resting on the arm rest of his couch, his head comfortably in your lap, “this.”

Then it was House’s turn to give a little snort.

“What you’ve resorted to is crippling a cripple. Can’t move! Should I go dial 911? Or are you going to kick my legs from behind just as I reach my phone?” This time, there wasn’t any sort of sound akin to laughter. Instead, you gave the hairs atop his head a bit of a tug. A warning.

A grunt left him, his eye wincing a little from the sensation but his wit outran any sort of complaint, “Pineapple! Oh— right we aren’t doing anything like that.” He still shot you a half-hearted look. All the playing around didn’t get him anything but a gentle expression though, a soft look in your eye that said that you would put up with him more than he could ever dream of.

A look he’d seen, but never truly appreciated. He wasn’t quite sure if he did so, even now.

“I would tell you to stop being stupid, but I know I could never stop that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The way you leaned down to give press a kiss atop his forehead spoke to the fact that you never meant any malice or exasperation in their words. Sure, there was bound to be exhaustion, everyone had breaking points. You were always so lenient with him. Even if you wouldn’t admit that yourself.

Suppose in a way, they understood each other like that.

House didn’t react much to the kiss. You gave a lot of those, so. He didn’t say anything though, so that was either a good indication or a bad indication. 50/50, who knows maybe you should flip a coin.

“Good day at the hospital?” You mumbled, slowly twirling the short strands on his head, coiling them around your fingers. House’s face visibly relaxed, only flexing and moving as he responded. “Oh, yeah, like Santa’s little workshop there. Bundle of joy, fun bright lights.” He muttered, eyes closing for a moment.

Everyone knew that his days were full of pain. He made sure everyone knew, actually. Always made sure that everyone had to be dragged down with him. With you though, he toned it down. Just a little bit.

Your hand caressed the side of his face, gliding down the rough surface and down his scraggly beard. Mindless shapes formed along his skin, his eyes trained on your face. Whether your face would contort the longer you looked at him. As if waiting for you to have a revelation of your own— that he wasn’t who you wanted to spend your time with. That’d you’d wake up soon. Wake up from the dream you seemed so content with, him in your lap and the carefulness of your gestures.

“Something on my face?” Your hand trailed back up to his cheekbone, before pinching the skin there. A smile on your face, for him. For a moment, he stayed silent. Lips that were once parted were now pursed into a tight line, furrow of his brows suggested that he was thinking again.

The longer you waited though, the lighter your touch became. As if you were drawing back. An end to a gentle moment.

“No,” his hands shot up, taking yours in his own. His eyes firm, before they would soften and close as he brought your hands to his face. “Keep it this way a little longer.” For once, not a quip. A moment of genuine love, one that came out of him thinking this was all but fleeting.

In reality, you hardly moved at all.

You were just going to shift, hopefully making him more comfortable if he had felt the position a little awkward. Instead he cradled your hands as if they were the one thing keeping him off his pills. Even just for a short amount of time. Your shoulders went lax, tilting your head as you gave a faint smile. “Okay.” Was all you said.

“I’d rather have you touch me than the old reliables here,” one of his hands let go, giving a bit of a jazzy shake as if to emphasize, “god knows I’ve touched myself enough. Your hands are softer.” You snorted.

“I don’t doubt it.”

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tervaneula · 7 days ago

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HELLOOO WHAT'S UP I took a little break from the web and all of my creative endeavours because my mum visited me for a week (it was so much fun I love her sm) and I've now discovered that I have a billion trillion asks to reply to AND I'LL GET TO THEM when my brain is back online<3 but now I'm thinking about flexing my drawing muscles... tomorrow, since it's already half past 23

Y'all know how there's like an infinite amount of villain AUs and stuff? If I were to draw something edgy (the more cringe the better) what could it be? If you guys have any suggestions feel free to let me know!!

Oh AND ALSO! I applied for a 4-month supplementary course in media technology because it's been like 10 years since I graduated lol AND I GOT ACCEPTED!!!!! The interviewers loved me it was awesome lmaoooo but anyway, it starts in December and oh gosh I'm excited, I really hope my brain can keep up 🥴

LOVE YA I HOPE Y'ALL ARE DOING OKAY MWAH

#tervdraws #it's terv #nqk adjacent

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heeheesang · 6 months ago

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ɾiȥȥɱαƚch | midnight cafe.

(pretty lengthy!! sorry for the long chapter)

"the purpose of intravenous therapy is to replace fluid and electrolyte balance..." i repeated in my head as i let out one big sigh and sat on the bench at the park.

it was pretty dark, the stars were lit almost perfectly in a shape of a heart. i felt alone with my phone in my hand, studying for tomorrow's test, the test i should've prepared for months ago.

why did i even pick nursing as a major? i picked it so ricky wouldn't be alone but look at how i'm struggling now. i could never be a nurse, at least not with the mindset i have.

i let out another sigh as i sat back on the chair and soon felt a presence next to me, "what's this young pretty lady doing out here at almost midnight?" i turned my head to see an old lady with glasses hanging from her neck.

"studying for a stupid test... if i don't pass this test, i won't be able to go for internship..." i replied as i sat up and asked, "what are you doing here at almost midnight?"

"i just love watching the stars and the scenary at night, not something you can see everyday when your bones are getting fragile!" the granny laughed as i laughed along with her.

"what test are you studying for?" she asked as i sighed, "healthcare... nursing, gosh i don't even know why i'm trying to become a nurse!"

"well baby, whatever it is, i'm sure you'll get to pass alright? i wish you the best on your future endeavours. who knows, you may just be nursing me one day haha!" before i could thank her, she walked away and i was left alone yet again.

well, before my phone dinged of course.

riki: pretty? are you at the park? i see someone that looks like you, i just didn't wanna approach because it might be a ghost...

yn: do i look like a ghost... gosh i'm a mess sorry riks

riki: i'm coming to you rn hold on

"hey pretty," i smiled at the boy who sat beside me, "why do you look so upset?"

"just stressed, riks. sorry.." i could feel my visoon blurring up as my eyes clouded slowly, i looked away and quickly wiped my eyes, pretending that my eyes were itchy.

"yn, don't be sorry.. what's wrong? c'mon tell me," riki said as he went infront of my face and saw tears running down.

"it's just a test... i just feel like i won't pass you know? and if i don't pass, i won't get to progress to internship..." he sighed and hugged me tightly, "princess, you'll do well okay? don't worry about it, you've been in the major for like what almost a year? you can definitely do it okay?"

"let's go get some ice cream to cheer you up okay?" i nodded with a huge smile as he hugs me once more.

masterlist | back | next

taglist— @illvding @mxxnintheskyreblogs @whoiss4m @yoonzns @lukesboo @shewoop @yourgirlzeyy @yourssincerely-mimi @wonkixo @sol3chu @n1k1mura @nctsshoes2 @dimplewonie @kookify @rikisgeef @ilovejeongin007 @nan-lzzn @speedymiraclecloud @pkjay @wk20 @soobs-things

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lovelykhaleesiii · 2 years ago

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I love Egg/chubby Aegon. I feel that it is so attractive. 😭 But hey, this morning at university I came up with a TOTALLY DISTURBING AND GROSS idea. I would love for you to accept this request and write to my tough, horny, BIG DICK Aegon together with a young wife (Helaena lives happily in the country with a man who loves her) redhead and "fragile" high on Dornish herbs begging her husband totally horrified at the idea of sharing a bed with her husband's brother in the face of his lord's infertility. ‼️I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE.

I'm so sorry for my English, it's horrible.

we are the same, chubby Egg is god-tier to me 😫🥵 getting flustered just thinking of him!!

apologies this took me forever to respond to, I appreciate you sending in the request (& your English is fine) 💖 hope you enjoy x

Splendid Husband, Obedient Wife.

PAIRING: chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

WORDS: 3,864.

WARNINGS: mentions of infertility, oral (female) receiving, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, hint of cheating (?), mentions of alcohol abuse, NSFW.

A/N - gosh I hope you really like this, I got sooo carried away in the fic so apologies it turned out long, but I found my way back!!! idk why but since having a mini hiatus, I feel a little nervous writing, but here we are!! enjoy lovely x

These past few, joyous months had been memorable yet fleeting. Betrothed to the Prince himself, Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, neither of you could've imagined how overly satisfied you would have been with each other upon meeting. Aegon was breath-taken by you the moment he caught you lonesomely wandering through the stony, ancient castle corridors, meeting you hours before the scheduled feast. You were taken aback by your husband to be, having heard viper-quick whispers, his notorious reputation preceding him, initially made you doubtful the union would survive prior to having met the man. Although, Aegon had quashed such vile allegations with much determination.

He was tender when it came matters relating to you, not wishing to cause unnecessary haste and spectacle, he was surprisingly quite grounded. If he could avoid conflict, he would, you both rarely got into arguments since he always listened to your opinions, always probing and advocating for your to speak and voice your concerns or judgements. His persona quite charming and meek with you, exterior wise, he did impose more of an oppposing effect, which also could've explained why you remained so guarded during the initial acquaintance stage. He seemed rather ruggard and rough, his Targaryen blonde hair remained short and unkempt, unlike his younger brothers. The Prince over the years had also developed a larger frame, despite having kept up with regular combat training, his gluttonous appetite to feast and drink was far more impressive, than any other young man in court. If you were being frank, it was actually appealing to you: it made him look brute, convincing you he was a force not to be reckoned with, and it seemed many shared this mutual belief, for no one dared to openly spare with Aegon in the training yard nor during council meetings.

He was rather a splendid husband, and an even more seasoned lover.

He did confess, during his youth and prior to meeting you, he did spend most of his lonely nights in the carnal company of whores and prostitutes. Hearing widespread rumours, even before your betrothal, of the Prince having sired bastards with these unknown women, you'd never come to see of any 'proof' for Aegon did not relish in speaking nor rekindling of such desolate memories.

"I was in a terrible place, my dearest. And I know, that is no valid excuse for how I acted nor carried myself, and yet I somehow ended up so lucky... With you."

He was not proud of such dark endeavours, upon thorough reflection and now being a married man devoted to his wife, Aegon was regretful of his youthful decisions. Although, during such a dark time in his life, he did not think it possible for someone to love him. To genuinely love him, without any political agenda nor catch to the arrangement. And despite, your betrothal being arranged between two highborn houses, undeniably, your love naturally blossomed like a lily in the spring.

However, unsurprisingly, people often spoke quietly, amongst themselves, yet harshly of your union. Always eager to stir the pot, and with time having passed since the exquisite marriage ceremony, the target was you.

"It has been three long months, Aegon, and your wife is still not yet with child." His discerning mother provoked: Alicent conditioned from a young age, believed this to be a serious concern that she'd often expressed amongst you three in private.

Since the viscous rumours began to spread like sprouts of weed amongst the court, Alicent had been even more persistent with her eldest son to conceive an heir with you. And although, the sex with Aegon was far from scarce, you had not yet fallen pregnant, which eventually made you anxious, as to whether your body was capable to breed. The question that poisoned your mind, was whether the culprit of infertility was Aegon, himself, or you…

“And how are we to figure this out, Aegon? For all I know, I may be the rotten spouse, useless in performing her wifely duties. They’ll have you marry another, more vibrant, more fertile lady, as you toss me aside out of sight and mind,” You tensely spat, carefully seating yourself down by the foot of the king-sized bed, your mind anxiously pondering over your dreaded future. You had an awful habit of picking and biting your nails, and Aegon had grown familiar with this, a blatant sign of distress.

Hastily he knelt before you, his large, rough hands gripped over yours, to stop you from picking at yourself, his touch halting your haste train of thought.

“We shall figure this out, my dearest. Trust… I will find a solution. You need not to worry of what others think, nor would I ever think to discard you in such a way. You are mine, as I am yours. I am bound to you till the end of time.”

A faint, half-hearted smile beams against your tender face, as you focus and cup Aegon’s portly, familiar face. To think of the possibility, that you might be the reason hindering Aegon from having children of his own, pains your heart achingly and yet, through the adversity, he remains still unfalteringly by your side. The fears settle for now, as a warm calm washes over your body, tears that had initially swelled in your eyes from sadness, now shed with the relief of joy, as you plant a soft kiss on Aegon’s forehead. You have faith in your husband, as he remains devoted to you. You trust that Aegon’s determined nature, he will find a way to give you a child, whether the Gods deemed it natural or not…

****

“Aegon, dearest, you cannot be serious? I truly hope you realise, what you are asking of me!” You frustratingly shout, as Aegon storms towards you in a haste, his hands gesturing for you to quieten down, as he takes a quick glance towards the main door, before focusing his attention solely on you.

“Y/N, you and I both know this is the only way we could ever really know if either I am the problem or there may be something hindering you from carrying. It’s either this or I sleep with another woman. And I swore even before our marriage, I would never even think to look at another... And besides, if you happen to fall with child, the resemblance would be uncanny! No one would ever know besides us three, and it shall remain that way, right brother?-”

Instinctively, both Aegon and yourself gradually turned to face Aemond, who remained silently and comfortably seated on the opposing end of the room, near the active fireplace. He seemed distracted in his own deep thoughts, as his gaze lingered across the dancing orange flames, the shadows and light perfectly outlining the sharp details and silhouette of his face. Aegon called for him again, managing to snap the younger back to reality facing your direction. A stoic look remained donned across his handsome face, although his eye remained fixated on you.

"Yes. Of course. Not a living should shall hear of such... Treason," Aemond teasingly uttered, a sly smirk appearing on his face, as he playfully fiddled with some sort of stone in his long fingers. His eye turned from Aegon, to you before resuming the direction of the flames once more. He seemed unphased and yet he did not disagree to such an unlawful scheme.

Why that was, you could not say with certainty. Perhaps this could be something he could hold over Aegon's head, which only infuriated you more. Potentially passing his bastard son as Aegon's rightful heir... It was dangerous, although the only viable option. The pressure of the realm, the tiresome burden of the expectations felt all too real these past few weeks, and this option was the only source of relief.

"And what if I do not fall pregnant, then what, Aegon? You would have no use of me, I would mean nothing to you. You have sired bastards before with unknown women, why not yet with me-"

"Don't say that-" One hand immediately stretched out reaching over towards yours that dangled hopelessly by your side, and his other reaching over towards your flustered cheek, his thumb grazing over your soft skin.

His height, although not as tall as his youngest, still towered over your polite frame. The distance now closed, you could examine the heartache struck across his face, as his glistening, lilac eyes lingered over you.

"Don't you ever speak those words again. You mean everything to me. With or without a child, Y/N, I shall love you always. You are mine. Mayhaps I have had a few children, although that was when I was young and futile, perhaps the drinking has rendered me impotent..."

You remain defeated in silence, engraining Aegon's sincere words into the core of your troubled mind, although feel another lingering gaze peering towards you. Hesitantly you turn ever so slightly towards Aemond direction, only to notice he'd been observing you both intently the entire time, his head slightly tilted in your direction, you'd caught him watching from his peripheral vision. You couldn't help but notice a sorrowful hint across his face, the smirk that had once eagerly occupied his lips, now disappeared, remaining pursed, before his eye dropped towards the view of the stony, cold floor.

"Y-You promise you'll stay with me," Your voice softly broke, as you choked against your words. Hot tears began to swell in your eyes, for you felt the guilt of betrayal fester in the pit of your stomach. Aegon would argue that this be a lesson for his past transgressions, and yet he did not disprove nor fight... He accepted what needed to be done.

"I promise, baby. It'll just be like how we always do it, okay?" His hand that cupped your face, now gently gripped your chin, as his thumb traced over your bottom lip. His sweet, upturned smile gleaming on his face, as he stroked away the few tears that managed to stream down.

"You may prepare yourself however you need to brother, I'll get her ready."

****

Aegon stayed true to his word, he mindfully eased you into the act. Wanting to warm your body up for the hopeful conception, undressing you, soothing you into the mindset to fuck.

"Such a good, good girl for me, so obedient."

He breathlessly whispered, in between each passionate kiss. His larger frame hovered atop of yours sprawled against the wide, soft bed. His trousers remained on, however his chest bare, his fleshy tummy pressed against your own, weighing you down as one hand glid gently across the sides of thigh, whilst the other supported your neck, shoving your face deeper into his as you kissed. Aegon being slightly heavier, he often succumbed to his weight, pinning himself down even more against your smaller body, and in this precise moment, you could feel his throbbing cock hardening against your exposed cunt.

"Hmm, Aegon-" You carelessly moan, the heat of your breath leaving a small, fade of moisture against his plump skin, as his lips escape yours.

He begins to leave a soft, wet trail of kisses down your neck line, making his way slowly towards the cleavage of your breasts, causing your body to eagerly shudder against his suckling motion. Hitting your sensitive spot, a small giggle escaped your lips, and moments after, you could feel Aegon's smile appearing against your skin in response.

"That's it baby, be the good girl that I know you are for me-"

As he repositioned his body further down, aligning his face towards the entrance of your now moist cunt, your gaze from the ceiling, as you opened your lustful eyes, down towards Aegon, you momentarily glimpsed as he gestured for his brother to join, tilting towards your direction.

Aemond now stripped naked, his body far more slimmer and lean than his older brother, you easily noticed the trace and outline of his prominent muscles. Although you greatly favoured Aegon's body and layer of fat that molded against his muscles, you could not deny that Aemond was a handsome figure also. It seemed the image of the Targaryens, regardless of shape nor size, were created authentically and yet so perfectly, by the favour of the Gods.

Laying himself cautiously down by your side, as though not to tease the risk of startling you, your unphased focus remained reciprocated towards each other, and yet there was no hesitation on Aemond's part, as his hand reaching over towards your face, as his long fingers gently seeped their way into the strands of your hair.

"Do not fret, Y/N. I am only here to perform my duty to the realm-"

And without a second to spare, Aemond's defined lips plummeted down against yours, where Aegon's once met. You felt that dreadful feeling beginning to entice in the depths of your stomach, an uneasy feeling churning as his tongue managed to peak its way through the gap of your mouth. Although, the sudden, reassuring squeeze of Aegon's hand in yours, as he looked up towards you, a small, warm smile reappearing on his face, your felt yourself beginning to give into the kiss.

"My sweet, sweet girl," Aegon's familiar, deep voice proclaimed, before his face began to comfortably nestle between your inner thighs. His mouth now agape at your entrance, his warm, wet tongue now began to lap at your wet folds, licking up the wetness that began to seep through, shoving himself deeper and deeper as he ate you out.

"Hmm", a low growl escaped your beloved husband's ravenous mouth, as Aegon's hands each snaked around your soft thighs, firmly pulling your legs further and further apart, in an attempt to widen the space to accomodate for his broad frame. Although he also felt the primal urge to widen your entrance more, as he delved his thick tongue deeper into your cunt, burying his face into the sensitive crevice of your wet entrance. He was known for his large appetite and that never stopped with feasts, he was always starving for your sweet, delicate taste.

As Aegon remained occupied below, Aemond found himself beginning to gain confidence and familiarity up top. Remaining by your side, slightly higher above you, his lean arms now snaked around your waist, in a poor and slight attempt to turn your body more towards him, as his lips remained encased against yours. Although, with Aegon's weight below, pinning you down from turning completely, your upper body remained slightly tilted towards him, one of his hands supporting your back from beneath as to not strain you, whilst the other began to firmly massage the swollen cup of your breast.

"A-Aemond-" You pleasantly whisper, uncertain of whether you wished for the moment to cease nor continue, you could not say. Aegon's tongue encircling your clit, whilst Aemond massaged the sweet spots of your tender breast, you lost the power of your own consciousness, helpless against the actions of the Targaryen brothers.

"Say it, Princess. Say my name, just like that-"

"Aemond" You moaned again, obedient to the younger brother's stern words, that he growled against your ear, it naturally sent a thrill of shivers coursing down your spine. Instinctively, a visceral reaction to the electrifying licking of Aegon's tongue between your inner folds, often grazing over your clit, your hips thrust forward, as your back arched, craving for more.

The oozing remnants of your cum that escaped Aegon's eager, ravenous mouth, would drip through the gaps and crevices down your inner thighs. Traces smothering against Aegon's plump cheeks form the jerky movements the sprung between you two.

"Okay brother, she's ready when you are-" And without a minute to spare, as though the brothers miraculously communicated telepathically, they jumped into action. Aegon breathless, stood himself up from the bed, leaving his younger brother to finish his mess. He attended to himself, hastily wiping his mouth clean with his hand, licking your sweet aftertaste from his fingers, as though he'd just devoured a succulent roast, savouring the moment, as he seated himself by the vacant seat near the dim fireplace. Aemond on the other hand, now positioned himself swiftly over you, his tip hovering over your entrance, before easing himself in. You'd closely noticed he was not as thick as his brother, as you easily took his mass between your folds, he did not stretch you out as his eldest brother would, however his cock was long and veiny, able to bury himself deeper into you.

"Are you okay?" He uttered, his eye fleeting over your tender, flustered face. You hadn't realised the precise moment he'd removed the notorious black, leather eye patch, as now a sapphire gem glistened back at you, in replacement of his lost eye.

"Y-Yes, I'm okay."

Slowly, ever so carefully, Aemond began to pace his thrusts, adjusting to your walls naturally clenching around his cock, you were unaware of whether Aemond had previously laid with a woman or not, although he seemed knowledgable enough to know what was required of him and how it needed to be done...

"Fuck-" He lowly moaned, as he shut his eyes instinctively, gradually beginning to fasten his pace. Aegon was often sloppy and slow when it came to fucking you, occasionally when he was close to his climax did he manage to gather some speed, although being a larger man, his endurance was easily exhausted, and he required periods of rest. Otherwise, he much preferred you working for it.

Aemond on the other hand, was eager to gain momentum himself, rather him putting in the effort. His body began to weight itself down against the forces of gravity, shoving and readjusting himself between your legs. Your arms had instinctively wrapped around Aemond's back, clinging to his muscular shoulders, for steadiness. You took his readjusting as a sign to bend them further up, bringing your knees up forward, as many woman had advised you in private councils, this to be an effective method to successfully take a man's seed.

You ashamedly couldn't bring yourself to turn to face Aegon, uncertain if he watched on closely as his younger brother fucked himself inside his own wife, or if he dared not burn the image into his memory. Regardless, it was happening, and if he wanted to he could've stopped it in a heartbeat, although no protest came from his end.

"Ugh, fuck-" Aemond repeatedly uttered, his breathing more shallow and fast, his head now resting against the side of your head, his grip on your hip and the other behind the crook of your sweaty neck tightened naturally. You mustered all the possible strength and will power you could, to not moan in response to Aemond's penetration, your lips pressed and pursed tightly, against the feeling of his cock throbbing intensely from within, occasionally managing to hit your sweet spot. His long, platinum hair had been he'd tied back into a low ponytail, as to keep it away from irritating your face, although your fingers found their way towards the back of his scalp, eagerly tugging at its roots.

"I'm so fucking close-" He panted, before groaning audibly, you were certain Aegon heard... Almost a bashful look struck across his chiseled, sweaty face, as he failed to maintain eye contact with you, turning to look up towards the head of the bed. It made you blush to think that you were causing such a visceral, feral reaction from the younger Prince.

The feeling of his warm load coating your insides, caused a much anticipated exhale of breath to escape your moist mouth, leaving your chest to heave in exhaustion, as your tits jiggled with each breath. Aemond's remained inside for a few minutes, making sure you took all of his seed well enough, he took the moment to compose his breathing too, as his hands stretched out on each side, cowering over you.

"The deed is done, brother-" Aemond breathlessly, uttered, as now he removed himself from within you, standing himself up off the bed, whilst Aegon returned to your side.

Hastily, he grabbed a set of fluffed pillows, from the head of the bed, positioning them just below your hips and bottom, causing your lower body to incline.

"Stay like this baby, it will help let the seed travel through you." He'd also managed to gather a blanket for you, as he covered your naked self, seating himself by your side, as he prepared a wet cloth to wipe over your forehead.

Still slightly breathless, you couldn't help though feel the hot tears begin to swell and fall from your eyes, as you examined what you had assumed was a dejected look on Aegon's face. You felt immensely guilty, and had wished he had not witnessed what he'd witnessed.

"I-I'm so sorry Aegon, how could you ever look at me the same."

His brows furrowed in haste, saddened once more by your words, he edged himself closer towards you, shushing you easily like a babe.

"Don't you ever think that, Y/N. This was my plan, my decision. I need to know if I am truly the problem, and if so what is to be done. This had to happen baby, do not think otherwise... Be thankful, Aemond was a willing candidate, he will not speak a word of this rest assured."

You stifle your cries, as Aegon parallel wipes away your fallen tears, and the strands of mottled hair. Aemond in the meantime, remains quiet and reserved, occupied with redressing himself, perhaps he too, feels ashamed.

"You promise to stop the drinking, no more ale, or wine or beer. And that you'll see the maester for some cure or remedy?" You persist, as you reach to grab Aegon's hand in yours.

"I promise I will," Aegon utters, leaning down towards you as he plants a soft kiss on your warm forehead, exchanging soft smiles with one another.

You turn to face Aemond with a thankful look, although he immediately cowers his gaze towards the floor.

"Perhaps I should leave-" Aemond awkwardly suggests, his focus fleeting from his brother to you, only to return back towards the ground, the faint sounds of his feet shuffling anxiously.

"Aemond-" You stretch out a hand over towards the mattress, and hesitantly Aemond returns the favour, holding your hand in his.

"I, well- We both do genuinely appreciate you for doing this. I understand it's an unimaginable thing to ask of someone, especially the secrecy that is to come with it, but rest assured... If the Gods do bless me with a child, I shall be honoured for you to remain present in the babe's life."

Aemond slowly nods his head in agreement to your words, a shy smile forming over his handsome, young face as your grip of him tightens reassuringly.

"The honour was mine, that you both entrusted me with this responsibility. I would wish for nothing more than that, thank you, Y/N. Although, I trust you both shall make dutiful, happy parents, by the efforts you both have gone to... The babe shall be blessed with a loving family, indeed."

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softshuji · 2 years ago

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3:19AM | HANMA SHUJI

Title: sugar, spice, and all things nice.

Summary: It's your birthday and Hanma wants to make it special, in a way he knows matters to you most. Link to masterlist here!

cw: afab! reader, mild cursing, mild descriptions of canon typical violence, Shuji is so so soft, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, babe, princess, doll) some kissing, light making out, established relationship, mild suggestive content, overall cute. This is very self indulgent. Reblogs appreciated!

Hanma Shuji scratches his neck as he scours the baking aisle, a basket in one hand, a crumpled recipe torn from a cookbook in the other. It’s late, he knows that and the angry mutter of the late shift workers isn’t lost on him as he peers forward to read the instructions on a shoddily torn paper.

‘What the fuck is this stuff?’ he mutters and tosses another ingredient into the basket, now filled to the brim with the other miscellaneous items. Butter, sugar, vanilla extract (he still doesn’t quite understand how that works), four brands of flour. His suit is still pressed into place, the creases sharp and clean, the hem tapered perfectly down to his waist from the broad swell of his shoulders. But his eyes are tired, half-closed as he squints at the list of ingredients on the paper.

Yes he’s 6’4 and fit, but the hunch of his back, the tired slouch is all too noticeable, especially when his hands itch for a cigarette and shake against his volition.

‘Can I help you sir?’ someone says, and in his sleepy daze he only just registers the voice as a retail service worker curiously eyeing him and the way he shifts on his feet as he looks to no avail for the baking chocolate.

‘I’m looking for…’ His eyes flick to the recipe again. ‘Baking chocolate with um… 75% cocoa solids.’ He’s not sure what that means either but the recipe says he needs it.

‘Just here Sir.’ They reach towards the shelf at his eyeline and hand it to him and he frowns at himself for having missed it so completely. Gosh he really is tired.

He feels the need to explain himself, as if this entire endeavour wasn’t out of character for him already.

‘It’s for my girl,’ he says and drops the chocolate into the basket with a thunk. ‘It’s her birthday tomorrow. Wanted to make her something.’

They nod, pursing their lips, eyes cutting to the suit, the basket, the dark shadows on his face, the ink that slips from beneath his sleeve. They turn away and Shuji can see the question left unasked written on their face as they leave him in the baking aisle under the sickly artificial lights.

It’s a tad excessive, over the top, exorbitant even, the lengths he’s going just to make the day special for you, as if the motorbike he bought isn’t still sitting under a plastic sheet in the garden waiting for you. Another indulgent gift.

He rubs his eyes, pressing his palms to his temples as his vision swims for a beat before checking his items out at the self-service. He’s tripped over his feet a few times, dropped his card, cursed under his breath even as he fishes in his pockets for the keys to his car, and perhaps driving isn’t such a great idea in his state, but the need for sleep is weighing so heavily on him and he needs to be in your bed or he’ll die he thinks. Again, a tad excessive, but it’s all he knows. He’s contradictions and indulgence.

The drive home is long and tedious, copper street lights flashing by, dragging across tinted windows and Shuji pressing a little harder on the gas, an unlit cigarette hanging languidly between his lips. More than once, the slope of his shoulders has softened, head drifting towards the wheel. And More than once, he has shaken it off with a shake of his head and a deep breath, the sting of exhaustion pulling at his eyes that are dimmed with sleeplessness.

He knows, realistically speaking, you don’t expect this of him, you never expect much, you never ask and it both pains him and not, that you’re used to the chaos of his lifestyle in a way that never has you demanding him of anything, even when you deserve to, even when he can admit he’s been subpar.

When he slips through the door, the house is quiet, still in that way it often is when he comes home in the weak hours of the night, the clouds pregnant with oncoming rain, the patter of it a clink against the windowsill, the drone of the TV left as background noise. You can never sleep in the silence, in the bareness of the world without him and yet he leaves you time and time again every night, to navigate your dreams alone. You never hold it against him and he wishes you would, wishes you were less forgiving sometimes, less able to hold him together and yourself, less like you love him and more like you don’t.

He pops his head in, and sees your hair spilling across the dove grey of the pillow, your hand cradling your cheek and the other reaching to his side where he should be, where he prefers to be. Maybe it’s because he’s tired and fatigued and the exhaustion seems like its withering in the marrow of his bones, but he loves you so much right then, peaceful, safe in the house you share and if he could keep you there, forever, for as long as he could, he would do it.

He’s silent as he pads back to the kitchen, flicking on the stove’s overhead light and fishing in the bags, frowning against the waxen yellow that fills his periphery.

He reads the instructions and it’s jargon to him really, pulling open cupboards and drawers and cursing under his breath when the metal clinks in a way that has his teeth on edge.

More than once, he thinks he hears your footfall on the stairs and scrambles to hide the countertop with his frame, as if the flour on his cheeks isn’t evidence enough of his midnight endeavours. You don’t wake and he slips the haphazardly created…thing in the oven, tuning the dial and waiting with a patience he finds uncharacteristic of himself, chewing on the end of his unlit cigarette in his suit that feels almost too tight, too cold, scratchy and rough against his skin.

When he pulls it out of the oven, and peels the baking paper, exactly as the instructions said, he’s almost proud of himself. He knows he isn’t doing it for himself, he knows he has nothing material to gain from it, and maybe it’s an apology, far less than he believes you deserve but an apology nonetheless.

For staying.

For trusting him.

For being led by the hand into the debauchery and sin of his world and never making it seem like he’d forced you there, into a place where there is little certainty and even less love, for staying the same regardless of what you had seen with him.

He trips on the breakfast bar stool and his hands skim the hot metal of the tin and he curses, for the umpteenth time, at the crash of metal that clatters to the ground and resounding echo of it that’s swallowed by the house.

He hears you then, your resounding footsteps, sock-clad and light. ‘Shuji?’ you say from the bottom of the stairs, in his shirt that’s entirely too big and thin for the chill that still creeps in through the draughts. Your hair is bunched on the one side from where it’s been pressed into the pillow, the shirt crumpled in the corner from your weight, goosebumps licking at the exposed flesh of your arms. You have never been prettier than now, in his shirt, his house, and safe where he can see you, where there is nothing but you and him.

‘Sweetheart,’ he says and coughs into his hand, his throat heavy with sleep and nicotine and disuse, voice laced with the sluggishness of fatigue. ‘Why are you up?’

‘I- I heard sounds, I came to check just in case.’ You step into the light of the kitchen, the silhouette of him burned and spilling onto the marble countertop, the outline of him ringed in golden yellow, big and beautiful, as if he could swallow the world whole.

‘You came to check? Could have been dangerous, Pretty Girl,’ he says, and attempts to manoeuvre himself enough to cover the fruits of his labour behind him, as if the crumpled paper, torn packets and chocolate on the countertop isn’t evidence enough.

‘Maybe, but are you dangerous?’ You eye the spatula thrown into the sink, the mixing bowl turned on its side with the leftover contents spilling out, the flour that marks a trail to the oven and the fridge and dusted on his sleeves.

‘I might be.’

‘You’re not,’ you say and you step in front of him, his shadow eating you whole, blocking the the fluorescent stove light, the golden hue of his irises now dimmed and flecked with a pale waxen yellow. ‘You’re my Shuji, you’re just perfect.’

It feels instinctual, inevitable when you touch him, with a softness he has grown to love and an honesty that he’s always found abundant in you and lacking in himself. You touch him like you could break him, like he could fall apart at your hands like clay left in the sun. He could and you know that, that it is the tenderest feeling he has ever felt, the warmth of your palms on his cheeks. He sinks, unwillingly, involuntarily, into your cupped hands, lashes kissing at his cheeks as he exhales, the cold drag of tiredness spilling from his bones.

‘You’re tired.’ Your thumb finds the sharp angle of his cheekbones, his jaw, tracing over the fine details of him, as if you’re committing him to memory, as if you could forget him tomorrow and he could slip through your fingers just so, tumbling into the ether without you.

It’s never been a secret, and you’ve never shied away from the knowledge that on any day like today, where his collar is stained with blood, cologne and smoke and the metallic tang pressed into his shirt that you run your hands on every morning, he might not return.

He knows you know that, you’re smart, diligent enough to be aware of what you were getting into. But it never means he doesn’t worry, doesn’t hold you tighter to his chest when he’s reminded of the lingering fear that he’ll be your death one day.

‘What were you doing?’ you say and attempt to peek behind him where his hands are haphazardly covering something from view. ‘You didn’t come to bed.’

‘I was…’ And he manoeuvres his body to cover his creation, sliding this way and that and all too suspicious to be believable. ‘Hey, why are you trying to look?!’

‘Why are you being so secretive all of a sudden?!

You lean to the side and the broad swell of his chest bumps your head.

‘It’s a surprise!’

‘I want to see it! If you don’t let me, no kissing for a whole week.’

‘Oh yeah? I’d like to see you live up to that Princess.’

‘Do you think I can’t go without you for a week?’

‘Oh Pretty Girl,’ he says and his lips brush your ear, teeth nipping at the tantalising flesh of your neck that he licks in a long line in one go, your breath caught in your throat, dizzying and heady all at once. ‘I know you can’t go without me for a week, you’re a shameless little thing.’

You pull back, hoping the shadow of him swallows the light enough to hide the avid redness spreading along your cheeks, the crimson touch of embarrassment that kisses at your skin and he grins, victorious and giddy despite his fatigue and despite it all. It’s you, and you are worth trying for.

‘You really won’t let me see?’ you say and plant your hands on his sides, his waist where it dips along his hips. You have always marvelled at how real he feels in your hands, how marvellous and beautiful, how you could eat him, and he you, living in each other’s skin, swallowing each other like fruit, like there are no people as insatiable and in love as you. You know there aren’t, you’re convinced you made it up, this thing called love. That it exists for the two of you to feel alone, as if you invented it. All lovers think that.

‘You wanna see it that bad? It’s nothing special, and you had better not laugh or I’m taking it back.’ It’s laced with humour but you can tell by him scratching at his neck, that it’s the closest he comes to embarrassment, as much as he’s able to feel. An awkwardness in incapability, in lack of knowledge, in an inadequacy you know he feels but never expresses.

‘I would never.’ You hold up your hand, as if to swear by it and he steps to the side almost sheepishly, rubbing at his neck, lacking the tell-tale grin, his sleeves rolled to the elbows from where chocolate has stained his cuffs, smeared against silver cufflinks that you help him with in the morning, the fruit of your love.

You stare.

And there is silence, loud enough to drown out the patter of rain slapping against the window.

You stare, and you admit, it is lopsided, a little messy, decorating the countertop with half of the batter.

There’s a candle in the centre of his haphazardly baked chocolate cake, unlit and leaning to the side, smudged with a dash of chocolate. And you know, in the very depth of your heart, it is the greatest gift you could be given. It’s him, presenting his heart on a plate, with all that it comes with. The danger, fraught with violence, the chaos of him that’s hot to the touch and wrapped in thorns, that you’ve so effortlessly softened with your own hands. Messy and disordered and lacking in the etiquette of more refined gifts and so entirely yours that it aches inside you, to an extent that has you sniffling into the sleeve of your nightgown, the tears unbidden and unrelenting, disappearing into the soft cotton of your sleeves.

You see panic in your periphery, his darting eyes that move from his haphazard creation to you and your lips wobbling, hunched in your kitchen crying into your sleeves, your breath short and weak.

‘You’re crying, why are you crying?’ he says, and he feels it, the well and bubble of fear that eats at him, panic that’s always so foreign now scratching at his bones, at his head so heavy with the need for sleep.

‘Is it bad? You don’t like it? I know it doesn’t look very good but it probably tastes better-’ and it’s painful to ramble when you’re falling apart at his hands and he wants to touch you, hold you, wrap you in the safe confines of him where he thinks he can fix it, put you together like you’ve done to him, coaxing him away from the shoreline again. You’re inadequate, you are a joke, you are good for nothing but pain. He feels the shoreline creep along the edge of his thoughts.

You hiccup and turn to him, the worry spilling across his face, so beautiful and full of life and lacking the grin that you love and have come to cherish. ‘Shuji, My Baby-’

‘I’m sorry Princess.’

‘Babe-’

‘I’ll get rid of it, you can go back to sleep, I’ll get you something better-’

You grab his collars and tug, with conviction and determination, till his lips all but crash against yours. He makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat, his hands instinctively coming to wrap around your throat, holding you by the back of your neck and firm enough to keep you in place as his tongue slides against yours. You bite down hard, playfully tug at his lips and it’s all teeth and need and urgency and want, hands running down his chest till you feel the tension slip from the hard rigid muscle of him, till he softens against you in a way that you love him for.

And you do, you do love him, enough to want to eat the sun, to rage, to whisper into his hair every night, to die and kill for him with conviction, as if it’s you that has sullied your hands to get to him. You would go to him crawling and blind if you had to, reach for him wherever, be the hero he has been so many times for you if it meant keeping him. You’ve never needed him to repeat it, to love you in the way others do, romantic and pristine and textbook. You would have him like this, bloodied and guns- blazing and grinning as if the world rested in his palms. It does.

He pulls back, holding your throat in one hand, stroking the column of it under his thumb, resting it in the dip. ‘What was that for Princess? Aren’t you upset?’

You shake your head and bring it to rest against his shoulder, your hands flat on the swell of his back, the muscles shifting and sliding underneath. ‘I’m happy dummy, so happy.’

‘What was all the crying for then Pretty Girl? You worried me.’

‘I really love you, you know that? I don’t say it enough.’

‘You don’t need to, you know how we are, we don’t need to say it.’

You lift your head, and your eyes meet his, glowing a faint amber beneath his lowered lashes, the shadows greying and darkened underneath, and it never takes away from him, never makes him lesser despite himself. You want him, with an unquenchable lust and love and respect and admiration that you have reserved just for him, an avid insatiable want that has you keening in withdrawal when he’s not around.

‘I just want you to know, you’re mine, and I like it, I like everything you give and do for me, you’re my hero remember?’

‘Mhm, sorry Doll.’

‘What for?’

‘Should’a got you something better, a ring maybe, nice pretty thing for a Pretty Girl like you.’ A whisper against the crown of your hair. It’s almost shameful, how easily you love him, how easy you make it seem, as if he doesn’t wash the blood from his hands every night when it’s caked into his nails, as if this life isn’t built on the bones of others that he’s gleefully stepped on, repeatedly, as if it has not meant anything.

‘Don’t.’ You hold his face and frown, your cheeks still wet with tears, your sniffles still drying against the shoulder of his shirt, a small puddle that you know he doesn’t mind. ‘Don’t ever apologise to me, you have nothing to ever be sorry for. I would kill for you, do you understand?’

‘Oh yeah?’ he says, chastised, albeit playfully, and like that, you know you’re fine, more than fine, and perhaps it’s just the fatigue of the day, emotions caught in the way they often are between you. Because he loves you in a way that devours him, fire swallowing up the earth. ‘You’d protect me huh Baby?’

‘You know I would, I’d fight anyone for you.’

He chuckles, breathy and soft, laced with a tiredness that his bones aching and it feels good, it feels right to be here, sleepy and vulnerable and with you. Where he belongs.

‘Yeah I know,’ he says and his lips brush your forehead with a tenderness that you know is yours entirely, another gift to you.

‘Happy Birthday Princess.’

a/n: ah haha yeahh, I don't have any explanation for this, just that the 28th march is my birthday and this is a present to myself ('n' to my baby, who knows who they are ofc) I had this in my drafts since last year actually but I only just finished it. Anyway, thank you everyone, all the time, for everything. if you ever would like to donate to my ko-fi, and i'd love that, but thank you always.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @swqllen @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @tetsutits @burnishedcrown @sweet-seishu @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs (let me know if you'd like to be added)

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #hanma shuji #shuji hanma #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #toman #hanma x reader #tr

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