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spacerockfloater · 5 months ago

Note

hi! i noticed you learnt about what ryan condal said regarding blood and cheese. it was…something. i would like to know your thoughts on the matter. though it would be completely understandable if you need sometime to gather them together or if you would rather not at all! thank you and bye!

Hello beloved, thank you so much for asking me! I’d love to share my opinion!

If anyone’s wondering, @rhaenelle is referring to this interview where Ryan Condal essentially says he believes that Blood & Cheese’s brutality and heinousness was exaggerated by the Greens in a propagandistic attempt to convince their subjects that Rhaenyra and Daemon are the worst villains ever born, hence why he toned the event down; to show us what he thinks is the accurate version of Jaehaerys’ murder.

Now, I am aware that Condal had already warned us that HOTD was going to be a feminist retelling of the events of F&B, which practically means that his plan has always been to whitewash the everlasting fuck out of Rhaenyra. So what do I think about this?

Well, for starters, I think that Ryan Condal is an excellent businessman. He knows what kind of tropes are going to make the audience engage with his show. He understands that people need a hero to cheer for and a villain to hate, therefore he removed the moral ambiguity from all of the characters and divided them into two categories: the Blacks, enlightened revolutionaries full of passion, deserving of admiration and correct in everything they do, and the Greens, pious fools with a moral superiority complex who are stack in the ways of the past and commit despicable crimes. The average viewer does not possess the intelligence to comprehend that both parties have their good and bad moments, and that they’re both correct in fighting for what each believes is rightfully theirs. Simultaneously, he benefits from the modern trends that want women in media to take revenge when they are wronged and emerge as triumphant girlbosses, because of course a white upper class woman’s suffering in a western world (or Westeros) society has everything to do with her gender and nothing to do with her personality or decisions (even if this works solely for Rhaenyra, because Alicent seems to be held accountable for every single one of her actions). Finally, it is obvious that Condal is trying to appease disgruntled Daenerys fans, so he has rebuilt Rhaenyra into this tortured martyr that wishes to change the world for the better in an attempt to make her resemble her great granddaughter six times removed.

For all of these reasons, I find it very logical that he is going out of his way to minimise the tragedy the Greens experience. It just doesn’t make Rhaenyra look good and honestly, who wants that? The producers saw how unhappy Danny’s stans were when they made her lose her shit; they’re not going to make the same mistake twice. They don’t want their show to tank like the last season of GOT did, so they’ll do everything in their power to keep the audience happy. And it’s working! What’s the last thing Condal says in this clip? “You kinda start rooting for [Blood and Cheese]!” and boy oh boy, the TB stans sure do! Literally hundreds of memes that rejoiced at Jaehaerys’ death were posted on X this week, with tens of thousands of likes. But when Lucerys died, it was presented as the most foul thing to ever happen in the ASOIAF universe. It is the TB supporters that dictate which child murder is good and which is bad, and that decision usually depends on which child came out Rhaenyra’s womb, not let’s say, the fact that one kid was a toddler that could barely walk, while the other was a teenager that laughed at the disabled person he mutilated himself.

It’s all just marketing

That being said, I want to clarify that I understand why Condal and the HOTD producers do what they do, but being a good entrepreneur does not necessarily make you a literary genius. Now, I’m not gonna explain why stripping Rhaenyra off of every character trait that made her interesting is a bad decision and that in their attempt to remove the blame from her so that they can elevate her as this righteous patron of feminism, they’re accidentally removing all of her agency and turning her simply into a victim, because I have a whole blog dedicated to that. But let’s just say that presenting Rhaenyra as this sexually liberated idol that’s incapable of evil, when in fact she’s an entitled aristocrat who’s completely at the mercy of men around her, from her father to her husbuncle, is the most performative activism move ever pulled in recent TV history, as well as pushing the narrative that Alicent suffers from internalised misogyny because duh, a woman can only be good and a feminist if she supports Rhaenyra, not when she pursues her own interests.

Ultimately, I think we just have to accept that this show is not meant for TG fans. We are not going to find any satisfaction in it. Everything that was unique and admirable about the Greens in the book has vanished. Their family dynamic is fucked up, Alicent’s children hate her, Aegon and Halaena cannot stand one another, Alicent is constantly a victim and never someone that chases her own ambitions, Halaena is very vague, Aemond appears to be more angsty than angry, Aegon is a stupid rapist, Jaehaerys’ death was turned into a mockery, Alicole was weaponised in order to make us shit on Alicent and Criston even more and so on. This show barely caters to us because we’re not making them any money.

The reason that there are more TB than TG stans is because (I’m gonna get so much fucking hate for this) most people who watch TV are fucking morons. I swear, when F&B came out 6 years ago, no one gave a flying fuck about Rhaenyra, because we all understood that everyone involved in the Dance of the Dragons was fucked up in their own way and that the message of this story, just like the general message of ASOIAF, is that nobody deserves to sit on that fucking throne. We were all in agreement about that. But then this fucking show came along and all the oblivious simpletons that swallowed whatever the producers shoved down their throats, grabbed the book and decided that “Woah, this book is obviously a critique on patriarchy and Rhaenyra is obviously the victim of the story”! As if GRRM, the man who said that he doesn’t sit down and think “Oh, I’m going to write a woman now” but instead he believes women to be people just like men, with complex personalities, would ever do that. And they just can’t believe that it is possible for book!Rhaenyra to be an evil racist classist full of entitlement! Surely it must be because the Greens are rewriting history! There’s no way GRRM, the man that created Cersei fucking Lannister, would ever make a female character that’s vicious and crazy just because she feels like it! Y’all need to sit down for a moment. I say this as a radical feminist that supports the 4B movement: you’re projecting your own ideas onto George’s work. Not all the media we consume has to reflect our ideologies, but if you think that it has to, then this book isn’t the anti misogynistic masterpiece you wish it was.

Like, when it comes to F&B, I am firmly anti Targaryen and did not wish for any side to win. I wanted them all wiped out to be honest. But when it comes to HOTD, I’m TG basically out of spite at this point.

All in all, I just think that things are going to go downhill for us from this point on. They’ll just keep glorifying the Blacks until the very end.

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shreddedparchment · 7 months ago

Text

The Garden Gate

Pairing: Medieval!Loki x Reader Word Count: 6,514

Warnings: smut, mentions of infidelity, language, bodily fluids, jealousy, Loki in a poofy shirt

A/N: Well, I haven't done this in a while. I had to go look for an old post to see how I used to do these openings. LUL Anywho, y'all can thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this one. She sent me a picture and then I asked her for three characters and three scenarios and this one is the one that spoke to me the most. I did put my own spin on it but that's just me. Anywho, I'm not sure how many of my old readers will read this but I hope y'all like it. Anything y'all have to say about it is also greatly appreciated. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs!!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Your family’s fall from grace had been nothing short of spectacular.

It had started first with the crumbling of respect from the men and heads of other houses. The gentry had taken offense to the shame of your father and eldest brother’s retreat at the battle for Carmine Valley, so named for the blush of trees that peppered the expanse of lush green and the strange but beautiful red waters of the central lake.

Had Lord Odinson’s own knights not been flanking from the western ridges, the valley would have fallen into the hands of the northern enemy forces. A great loss seeing as the valley was the largest producer of grain and vegetables in the kingdom.

The fallout had been catastrophic. Both your father and brother had been sent to the wild woods to the southernmost parts of the kingdom to work off their shame and languish in the dangerous labor camps where men were said to be torn into shreds by beasts as large as a carriage.

Even though you loved them very much, you couldn’t help the anger within your veins at their betrayal to not only the kingdom, but to your very family. The abandonment that their retreat meant. They knew what doing so would do to you, your mother, and younger brother.

If it were not for the King’s good nature, you’d have no doubt found yourself working in some brothel alongside your mother leaving your younger brother, at the tender age of seven, exposed to the worst parts of society.

The seediest brothels were not above selling children, you knew. No matter that the King had signed a death warrant for anyone known to sell or buy said company. It was the worst of sins and it breaks your heart to know that one man’s generosity saved all three of you from that life when he could have very well condemned it.

Knowing this–knowing how bad it could have been–doesn’t change the fact that your life now is still torture. Torture of a different kind, but torture all the same.

The King’s kindness came in the form of service. While your family was stripped of all titles and wealth, you’d also lost your beloved.

That is the true source of agony in your chest as you struggle with the bucket of waste water you’re holding, trying desperately not to slosh it around too hard. The last thing you want to do is to go to bed smelling of someone else’s bodily fluids.

The thick wool of your simple navy dress and the apron you keep tied over it are both great for absorbing disgusting materials. Already in need of a wash, the white ruffle along the neckline is frayed and yellowing despite the gown being only a few months old.

Edging along the courtyard wall, you try not to rush. The exhaustion in your body begs for sleep. Even months later the labor of working in the castle as a servant to former peers has not grown easier.

Wincing as the rough rope of the bucket burns the center of your palms, you almost sigh but instead freeze at the sight before you.

You’d know his silhouette anywhere.

The light is low here, a small lamp just beyond the open garden gate illuminates them from behind and hides their expressions but you don’t need to see to understand.

Her lips are parted, head pressed back against the door, hand braced against the warm brown and ornately carved wood. Her legs are parted a little too wide, a subtle motion of his left arm and the bunch of fabric around his forearm tell you enough of what you’ve stumbled upon.

You’re embarrassed and try to fade back into the darkness of the small courtyard behind you.

His shoulder length hair, black as a raven’s feather, is disheveled. You notice her hand gripping it tightly as his arm pumps.

A wispy, sultry moan slips through her parted lips and you stumble, gasping your own bit of surprise as you try not to spill the bucket’s contents.

A small splash, luckily away from you but the shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric tells you that you’ve been noticed.

You look up, Lord Loki stands facing you, hands fisted as she hides behind him quickly adjusting her skirts.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lord Loki says, disdain in his voice.

Everyone here hates you. You already know this. Your father’s sins are your own. Nothing can change that.

“Finally where you belong,” the girl says and you recognize the voice with a small shock of pain in your chest. “You smell like piss.”

Lord Loki chuckles and you shrink just a little. More embarrassed by your own situation than catching them in the act. In fact, you’re disgusted by both of them, not only because of their audacity to do this at all, but because the woman whose fingers Lord Loki were just in is also your once beloved’s fiance.

Your former confidant. Lady Amora Antress. You’d once considered her your closest friend. Now here she stands, betrothed to one brother while fucking the other. The venom she spits at you is also unappreciated and painful to hear.

How long had she hated you before your downfall? How long had she waited before pursuing Thor?

“Aren’t you going to reply to her ladyship, servant?” Lord Loki asks, gleeful mirth in his voice as he takes a step towards you.

You bow your head even more, holding the bucket in your hands as still as you can while your hands struggle with the burn of the rope.

Amora scoff, “Pathetic. Leave her be, Loki. She’s where she deserves to be. She’s not worth the breath in our lungs.”

You don’t mean to cry. The utter betrayal of your once friend hurts more even than the loss of your once future husband.

“Are you crying?” Amora laughs, moving around Lord Loki, her shoes clicking against the brick of the courtyard. She stops in front of you, arms crossed over her ample bosom, still exposed more than it should be from what she and Lord Loki were just about to do. “You’re pathetic. The least you could do is be invisible while you serve.”

You say nothing, fist tightening around the rope. Pain shifts into rage at the cruelty in her words.

The wind blows and you can smell the scent of their near copulation. Luckily, it’s driven away by the vines of jasmine that creep along the tops of the brick wall.

She doesn’t deserve Thor. But you know that he never deserved you either. The rate at which he moved on…

Almost as if she’s sensing your thoughts, she takes a step closer and drops her voice to a whisper. You know Lord Loki will still be able to hear.

“Poor little flower, so careless and trusting.” She smiles. “You know it was so easy to seduce Thor. Even before your disgrace of a father betrayed his kingdom, Thor came to my bed often. Such a chaste little thing you were. You had no idea that every night after he whispered sweet promises in your ear of a happy future, he was burying his cock deep in my cunt, whispering how glorious I felt around him. Promising that even after you married, he would slip away and fuck me because no cunt could be as good as mine.”

Whore. Your heart shattered. Finally your eyes met hers.

She took a slight step back at whatever she saw in them. The hatred coursing through you set your teeth on edge. You wanted so much to rip her hair from its roots. If you could gouge her eyes out with your fingers without the consequence of a beheading, you would.

Perhaps she could see that promise of death in your eyes.

She scoffed, a reaction to whatever fear she felt in that moment.

“Now, now, ladies.” Lord Loki chastised, “Let’s keep things civil.”

“Civility? From a servant?” Amora looked at him then back at you, her hateful smirk twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

No…this is her true face. Her long blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes might make her superficially beautiful, but you can see the true ugliness in her now.

“Trash knows no civility.” She spits.

Done with this encounter you make to move around her to finish your duties. You need rest. Body and now soul exhausted, the sanctuary of your quarters beckons like a beacon.

She steps in your way, smiling cruelly as she does.

You make to move around her again. She blocks you once more.

Body shaking with rage, you don’t bother stopping this time as she steps in front of you. Instead you let yourself fall against her, your bucket sloshing loudly as you angle the wide opening towards her.

The smell of piss and shit slices through the scent of sex and jasmine.

Amora screams, stepping back quickly until she bumps into Lord Loki who quickly pushes her away from himself, a wrinkle of disgust on his handsome face.

The green damask pattern of her silk gown grows slowly darker as the piss soaks into the fabric. A dark brown stain sets in towards the bottom.

“You probably should have moved out of my way, my lady.” The casual tone of your voice, the respect you can now fake like a professional grifter sounds so real that your taunt sounds like an apology.

“You bitch!” Amora growls.

Lord Loki catches her by the arm before she can move towards you.

“Perhaps, Lady Antress, you may want to go and change? If what you say is true and my brother will seek you out, I doubt very much he’d desire your company if you smell like shit and piss. No matter how delicious your cunt may be.” Lord Loki’s smirk gives away his delight at Amora’s distress.

Almost as soon as he’s grabbed her, he drops his hand and angles himself away from her slowly to avoid being soiled as well.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you curtsy, a perfect bow. “It was an accident.”

Amora glares at you then looks at Lord Loki who has taken to pressing the fingers of his right hand against his nose to shield from the smell, affixing her with a look of amused disgust.

Amora huffs, “Fuck you.” Then turns and stomps past you across the courtyard and disappears into the castle.

“That was nicely done,” Lord Loki says once you’re alone.

You give him a quick curtsy and move towards the gate to toss the remaining waste where it belongs in the river just past the far end of the large hedged garden.

Ignoring the sound of his following footsteps against the gravel and footstones, you wander through the fragrant rows of flowers.

“If anyone had been watching, no one would have doubted your sincerity with that apology.” He declares, hastening his footsteps to catch up with you, settling in to your right as he matches your pace. “I’m impressed. You never gave me the impression that you even knew how to lie let alone be deceptive.”

Grinding your teeth, you attempt to ignore him. You don’t engage.

He reaches out to grab your arm but you stop and twist away from him, disgust on your face as you stare at his left hand pointedly.

For a moment he looks confused and then laughs once in realization and takes his hand back.

“You won’t tell my brother, will you? About my…meeting with Lady Antress?” Lord Loki doesn’t sound like he actually cares.

You know that he and Thor never truly got along once they were of age. As children they had been inseparable. You’d followed them around and they’d welcomed you into their company as a playmate despite your gender.

Not until you also were of age did you realize that your parents and their parents had seen your friendship as an indicator of good fortune for a future marriage.

As the elder brother, Thor had been chosen. Your heart, having been devoted to Thor even as a girl, had been so full. Eagerly you’d thrown yourself into the arrangement of your marriage. Only now did you begin to realize that perhaps your heart had been the only one truly invested in the promises that Thor had made.

Agony cuts you again, tearing your heart apart a little more as the feeling of stupidity makes your eyes prick with tears again.

“Did you truly not know that Thor and Amora were fucking?” Lord Loki asks, voice devoid of anything but genuine curiosity.

A tear slips down along your cheek as you turn and resume your walk. Lord Loki follows.

“You wound me.” He says, voice low. “Were we not also friends before?”

Scoffing, you readjust the bucket and wince at the pain of the rope as you feel your skin break. You drop it, Lord Loki stepping back quickly but nothing splashes out this time. Most of the contents were currently soaking through Amara’s gown.

You lift your hand up, staring at the peel of skin and the slick of the pink muscle beneath as red begins to pool along the edges of the tear.

Just another wound. It’ll seal and heal and scar, joining the others on your once smooth hands.

The bite of pain gives you a reason to let your tears fall. You don’t hold them back as you sob quietly, uncaring of the audience to your humiliation.

“He’s an asshole,” Lord Loki states, stepping up in front of you. “Always has been. Arrogant, proud, and foolhardy. Thinks with his cock more than his brain.”

Again, you scoff. The irony of Lord Loki, whom you just caught fingering your former best friend in the garden, telling you that Thor thinks first with his cock does not escape you.

Lord Loki clears his throat, embarrassed?

“If I’d been your betrothed,” Lord Loki continues. “I’d have worshiped the ground you walk on.”

“You’re a liar, and just as susceptible to Amara’s games as he apparently is. Does it make you feel happy to sleep with your brother’s fiance? Does it give you pleasure to betray him?” You spit at him, angry at yourself, at Thor, at Amara, at your father and brother.

You’re just so angry. You’re always angry now. Even when you’re sad, you’re angry.

“Are you really worried about my betrayal against him when Amara just exposed him for the hypocrite he is?” Lord Loki demands, a little affronted by your ire.

Biting down hard on your lip, you squeeze around the wound on your hand.

“You’re all hypocrites. All of you deserve each other.” You realize and reach down to take the bucket again but are stopped by Lord Loki’s hand as it takes hold of the bucket for you.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead moves towards the gate at the end of the garden.

Quickly, you hurry after him, eager to take the bucket from him before anyone might look out onto the grounds and see him interfering with your duties. The punishment you’d receive would be painful.

“My Lord, please,” you finally beg, unable to really catch up with his long legged stride. “I’ll be punished if they find out.”

Lord Loki says nothing but strides out through the gate into the wooded expanse behind the garden.

Expertly, probably from the many hunts he’s gone on around the castle, he winds through the trees towards the rushing river whose roar you begin to hear.

“My Lord,” you hurry after him, nearly catching up but then he turns and disappears behind a tree only to emerge before another one. “Please,” you beg.

Taking a quick glance behind you towards the castle and its countless illuminated windows, you don’t see anyone watching but panic has begun to take hold.

He shifts and turns, stomping over the wild grass, the occasional crack of twig or fallen branch as he steps onto it, eaten by the rush of the water now louder.

You’re almost running now to keep up with him and still you lose sight of him when he turns around a particularly large tree. You stop beside it, scanning the area for him desperately.

The dungeons are so damp this time of year. You don’t want to get locked up if you can help it. Illness is something you don’t have much experience with and with your body weak and unhealthy now compared to the grace and flush of perfection you’d been with money and a constantly full belly, you might succumb to any serious illness.

You don’t want to die, despite the hardships you face.

With no sign of him, you move towards the section of river you always go to empty your buckets.

Minutes later you break through the treeline and spot Lord Loki crouched by the water, damp bucket set beside him now empty and rinsed.

Breathing heavily, you try to catch your breath and press your hand against your thundering heart, forgetting for a moment about the wound there and hiss.

Lord Loki rises, turning to look at you with a furrowed brow as he shakes the water from his hands and dries them on his dark emerald jerkin. He pulls down the puffed sleeves of his black shirt, fastening them around his wrists again but only finishes one before he’s holding his hand out for you.

“Come,” he orders. Not a request.

You don’t move, holding your wounded hand still as you watch him, pale skin nearly glowing in the light of the moon.

“Come here,” he orders again and this time you move towards him only a step. He steps towards you once, his hand held up again with more emphasis. “Shall I say please? Am I wrong? Were we not also friends?”

He smirks, amused by your hesitation for some reason.

Asshole. How dare he throw the past in your face. It’s coercion to remind you of your bond as children.

Unwilling to let him get the satisfaction of seeing you be defiant, you close the distance between you.

He takes your hand, holding it up close so that he can see it clearly. The moon is bright enough that he can and he pulls you towards the river’s edge. Squatting down again, he pulls you down with him.

You kneel, inching towards the edge as he pulls your hand into the water.

A hiss escapes your lips as the water coats the wound, tugging at the bit of skin still holding on until it tears free.

He holds it under the water for a minute then brings it back up to examine, pulling your arm so that you shift to face him and he does the same, kneeling before you.

“It’ll scar,” he realizes, but notes the other small scars that now cover your palm underneath the base of each finger.

You watch him as he traces each scar with his thumb, the golden emerald ring on his finger cool to the touch after being submerged in the cold river water for a bit. It feels nice against the heated skin of your palms. The friction of the rope burning them both.

“I remember when your hands were soft,” he notes.

Self conscious, you make to yank your hand from his grip but he tightens it and meets your eyes in silent order not to try that again.

Holding your gaze, he brings your palm up towards his mouth. Heart hammering against your chest, you try again to yank it from him but his lips close around the wound.

A strange tumble of knots in your stomach work their way up into your chest and constrict your heart.

More strange than that, a shift between your legs has your face and neck burning. Ears so hot that the breeze of the late spring air feels cold in comparison.

“Stop that,” you tell him, voice weak from shock at both his actions and your body’s reaction to it.

He does. Pulling your hand away from his mouth to look the wound over.

“The bleeding stopped,” he states, then reaches for your apron.

The tearing of fabric sends our heart seizing but more arousal pools between your legs. Embarrassed, you look away from him as he wraps your hand tightly. He must have dealt with many small injuries on his hunts because he ties the wrap around your palm securely and nothing save for cutting the fabric away will undo it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and deep. Almost dark in the way it slithers across your skin in a sultry embrace.

“No.” You answer honestly. “And it’s probably only because I caught you and you didn’t get to stick it in Amara.”

He releases your hand as you pull against his grip but he reaches forward to place his hand on your cheek. His left hand.

You almost pull away but remember him drying his hands on his vest. He’d deliberately washed both hands. Why?

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I would have worshiped the ground you walk on. I still can, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m a servant,” you spit, turning to look at him with anger and betrayal. “Anything you do to me will be forced merely by the fact that I cannot deny you anything you might want.”

Lord Loki frowns.

“You think so badly of me?” He wonders, hurt in his green eyes.

Your mind flashes back to your childhood. You, Thor, and Lord Loki running to the stables of his estate. You fall. Both Thor and Lord Loki stop but it’s Lord Loki that rushes back to you, helping you up and dusting you off as you cry loudly.

Thor rushes away, laughing in his eagerness to mount his horse.

More memories of your childhood assault you with images of Lord Loki and his kindness. Frequent acts of compassion and what you might have once considered friendly love. Thor’s are fewer and mostly contained to the days after your betrothal had been agreed upon.

“You will never be a servant to me,” Lord Loki assures you.

“It is what I am,” you counter. “You cannot simply ignore it.”

Lord Loki sighs, “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

He lets his hand glide down along the side of your neck, over your shoulder, down along your arm, and then he settles it along the side of your waist, the shape stiff thanks to the corset underneath.

It’s almost unbearable that he’s here, in your shame of servitude. His touch is confusing. You almost ask him why it feels so strange but instead focus on what’s most important.

“Is it true?” you ask, voice wary and quiet.

“Is what true?” There are so many things you could mean, you realize.

Part of you almost doesn’t want to know. So you hesitate.

Something softens in Lord Loki’s eyes as if he suddenly knows what you’re going to ask.

“Were…did Thor and Amara…?” You shake your head, trying not to let the pain show.

“Yes,” he answers, voice firm. He wants you to know that it’s true. No hesitation in his answer. “A few times even with you nearby. You almost caught them a handful of times. Were you only a few moments earlier or later.”

Head falling, you can’t help the tears that spring forth. So much of your past had been a lie. The strength of your house. The friendships you held dear. Your betrothed hadn’t truly loved you. If he had, he would not have betrayed you.

“My brother paints a pretty picture. Despite what he wants others to think he is changeable. He is impatient. Clearly that was his undoing with you. He is rash and prideful. He doesn’t think about what he does before he does it and because he would be insulted by it, would it not be sweet revenge to dangle what he wanted most in the open for all to see?” His words are slow and sure.

The last bit of his speech is careful and calculated. You can hear the manipulation in his words even though he tries not to let you. You’ve known him too long. Lord Loki also changed when you were betrothed to Thor. A shift of his usual kindness had taken place and the sneering Lord had been born. Intent on his own machinations to pry forth the dreary truths of his life.

He’d never been cold and harsh but he became so after your engagement. Thor had called him a snake and even then you could see it. The skill with which Lord Loki had developed his manipulating tactics and the precision with which he enabled them are known to you.

So you know what he’s saying even if he won’t say it clearly.

He takes hold of your chin and slowly lifts your head until he can see your eyes. There’s a strange eagerness in his own greens as he tries to read you. There’s a question there, an uncertain probing as his hand at your waist grows tighter, wrapping around to rest on your back, arching your body towards him.

That strange feeling between your legs surges. It’s Amara’s sneering face that breaks down your defenses. It’s the pride in her words as she’d bragged about being with Thor while you were still betrothed to him that shatters your will.

You do want to get revenge. You want Thor to know that you don’t care anymore. That he means as little to you now as you did to him then.

And what better way to show him that than with the one person he’d hate it happening with the most?

He might overlook some random stablehand. He might ignore some merchant’s son, even if he were above your station.

With Lord Loki…the bite would be as harsh as the sting of Amara’s venom was to you.

“Loki…” you whisper and he surges forward.

His lips are over yours, moving and massaging as you at first merely take his kiss.

He hates it. He pulls back and tilts his head the other way, kissing you more enthusiastically, trying to draw some type of reaction from you.

It’s taking you longer to submit than you thought it would take.

He pulls back one final time and tilts his head back again before this time pressing his lips against your own slowly. He doesn’t move then but instead waits, puckering against yours as he tugs you towards him instead of shoving himself onto you.

Strong lithe arms wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your knees and against his chest. He holds you so close, so tight. It isn’t rough or demanding but needy. As if he can’t get you close enough to his own body and he can only draw you closer and closer in the hopes that it’ll fill something in him that needs filling.

You place your hands on his shoulder as you tilt your head back with his kiss.

Finally, you find the strength in your body and pucker your own lips and return this gentle kiss.

Shock flashes in his eyes as he opens them to look at you. You watch the confusion bloom in them but then shut your own and give in.

Loki’s lips part and envelop yours. It shocks you the way it sends those knots back into your stomach. In response you do the same, enveloping his lips with your own.

Loki’s hands splay out against your back and he groans as he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue slides against the crease of your lip in question.

In answer, you open for him and welcome his searching tongue with your own. The taste of him, the scent of him, it overwhelms and you gasp as you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel his hands drift around to your front, his right sliding up along your bodice until he can cup your breast, a groan slipping through his lips as he breaks your kiss and traces wet open kisses along your jaw, neck, and shoulder.

“Loki…” you gasp without ever having given your mouth permission to speak.

He bites your neck when you say his name. You moan and he licks the spot to soothe it.

“Loki…” You whisper again.

He’s driven mad by it and before your mind can understand what is happening, he’s laying over you, hands moving wildly underneath your back, running along your sides, fumbling around until he finds where your dress is fastened and he pulls at the ties.

“Should I stop?” He asks, breathless and looking as if he would like nothing more than to keep going.

“No.”

“Mm,” he moans and kisses you again, tongue claiming your mouth as his own.

You can feel him tearing away your apron and then your dress. Too eager to pull it off you completely, he merely shoves it down so that he lays spread out along your waist.

He looks down at you, the corset you wear hiding very little of your breasts. He kisses them each in turn, the soft fleshy bits that pool up above your undergarment.

You shudder at the touch of his lips.

“Has anyone kissed you here before?” He wonders. You’re not sure if he wants an answer or not but you shake your head anyway.

As he nuzzles the soft flesh, his hands work on the corset, pulling at strings blindly until it gives way and he pulls it off of you exposing you completely.

The cool air of the night perks your nipples more than his touch already has and he takes both breasts in his hands, pushing them together as he stares to the point of embarrassment.

Before you can cover yourself, he takes one into his mouth, suckling softly to draw soft moans from your open mouth.

He sees it, your gaping mouth, and seals it with his own, his tongue nearly in a frenzy as he devours your whimpers.

Cool air hits your suddenly exposed legs. You gasp sharply as he thrusts suddenly and the hard press of his cock rubs against you, shielded only by the fabric of his pants.

“Shall I stop?” He asks again, hands running down along your torso where he takes each breast in hand, massaging them slowly before rolling each of your nipples in slow deliberate circles.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s almost torture when he removes his hands from your overheated body. But you enjoy the sight as he removes his jerkin, followed shortly by his shirt. His body is sculpted but tight, not bulky. Lithe limbs hard and eager as he reaches down beneath your skirts in search of what he desires.

He hisses when his fingers touch you, soaking wet, and you reach down to hold his wrist not to stop but simply to hold on.

The thought crosses your mind that he’s already had someone else like this tonight and it almost makes you pull away. You’re so close to stopping but he sees the thought in your eyes and leans over you, removing his hand he leans over you, pressing his chest against yours and silencing your thoughts with a slow kiss.

It burns through you, the meaning clear.

“Shall I only touch you from now on, darling?” he whispers, kissing your chin then suckling along your throat.

He’ll leave marks…

“Tell me and I will only touch you.” He promises.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep, Loki.” You chastise him, mood nearly breaking again at the memory of the endless promises Thor had made you.

“I will never break a promise to you. Tell me to refrain and I will. I meant what I said,” he kisses his way up to your ear, licking the shell of it before hot breath sends your skin prickling. “I will worship the ground you walk on if you will only let me.”

He thrusts again. You shut your eyes, gasping at the cock straining for freedom.

“H-How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, unintentionally letting him see how desperate you are to do so.

He kisses you again, genuine and hungry for it.

“Give me a week and I shall truly prove it. Trust me until then and you shall see the depths of my willingness and devotion.”

He thrusts again and maybe you’re a fool for allowing yourself to consider this when he’s got you right where he wants you, but you nod.

“Only touch me,” you order him.

He smirks. He reaches down between your legs again and with one finger slowly strokes from the bottom of your cunt to the top, the lurid sounds of your wetness poignant despite the rushing river beside you.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

One finger. He uses only one finger and the pressure is intense. Sensations you’ve never felt before awaken every nerve ending in your body. His thumb presses against your clit and you nearly sit up with the shock of pleasure that rushes through you.

He adds a second finger, moving slowly as he pumps them in and out.

“Shall I stop, darling?”

“Never stop,” you gasp, still gripping his wrist.

Another smirk on that handsome face, his green eyes dazzling you as he shifts back to his knees.

He licks his lips as he pulls a tie free at the front of his trousers and slowly pushes them lower and lower until he can kick free of them completely.

The length of him is breathtaking. He reaches down and strokes his cock, slowly running his thumb along the shiny pink head before he scoots closer, your skirt blocking him from view.

He rubs himself against you, slicking himself with your own arousal.

There he waits, watching you as you brace your hands on the soft grass beneath you but open your legs wider.

Your eyes meet and both of you know that there will be no coming back from this choice. Nothing either of you do will ever erase this line you’ve nearly crossed completely.

He pushes in slowly, leaning over you as he gets deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely. Chest to chest. Face to face. He grunts deep, face twitching as he settles within you.

It’s so much pressure it’s painful. The feeling of him is so foreign. You’re not sure whether it feels good or not.

“Fuck,” he whispers and tenses then shudders. You feel a wave of heat within you, followed by the sensation of slow moving drippage. “You feel…”

He seems lost for words. Do you feel terrible?

He pulls his hips back just a bit and pushes back in.

You whimper, pushing against his chest to look down where your bodies connect.

“Loki,” you fret.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “Be calm my sweet. I will ease you into this.”

Each thrust into you, his pelvis pushes against your clit and each time you moan, wishing he’d do that more. The feeling of him is filling, strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

As your body relaxes a bit more, Loki’s thrusts grow faster. You smile unintentionally as he presses against your clit more often.

“You like that?” he wonders, stopping as he pushes all the way in and then rolls his hips against you.

Your responding moan gives him confirmation and he settles himself over you fully.

As he thrusts he presses harder against you, lingering for a moment before doing it again and again. The slap of his skin against yours grows louder and he finds a rhythm that has you both breathless and moaning.

“Loki,” you plead, feeling the build up of tension within your body.

“Come for me, darlin,” he kisses you, subduing your voice as he pumps into you.

You’re unsure for certain what he means but your body seems to listen. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he continues to thrust into you. The sweat of his body glistens in the moonlight. The soft silk of his hair tickles your skin as he arches up slightly so that he can take your breast into his mouth again as he keeps pumping into you.

You feel it…so close.

“Loki,” you whimper, wanting to reach the end of this tightrope.

He growls once and brings his hand down between your connected bodies. His thumb presses against your clit firmly. He presses and presses, rolling it in small circles with such precise pressure.

Your body explodes into endless fuzzy light. You arch into him, trembling as his thumb continues to draw pleasure from you in spasms as he keeps moving his cock in and out.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts and thrusts one final time his whole body tight in its release as that same sensation of heat fills you again.

Both of you seem to have stars in your eyes as he collapses on top of you, kissing you slowly with his eyes wide open to watch the expression of pure bliss on your face.

“I think-” Loki says, pulling back as he slowly helps to pull your dress up a bit to cover your exposed breasts. He kisses each one before he does so. “-it goes without saying that I would appreciate it if I was the only one allowed to touch you.”

You’re floating, swathed in golden light, unable to process anything he’s saying because of the pure escape from and yet complete connection to your body Loki’s cock just gave you.

You hear him chuckle. He pinches your cheek, drawing your attention back to him.

“Agreed?”

“What?” You gasp breathlessly.

“No one may touch but me. And I will touch no one but you.” He declares. “Is that understood?”

The authority in his voice draws your legs wide as that throbbing from before is renewed.

Loki’s face twitches at the movement.

“Show me again,” you plead.

“Tell me no one else will touch you,” he orders.

“No one else will touch me,” you agree.

“If you betray me,” you begin.

Loki’s eyes soften. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I promised you that I would worship the ground you walk on.”

He kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your mouth against his.

“One week, my darling. I’ll prove to you my devotion.” He promises.

The sincerity in his voice has your legs spreading again and he hisses as you shift. Inside you, you feel him harden.

“Show me…” you beg.

“You’re going to be insatiable.” He realizes.

And revenge against Thor aside, you realize that being with Loki might be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to make you mine?” Loki wonders, stroking your cheek.

“How long?” You wonder, reaching up to take hold of his hand.

“I’ll show you.”

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#loki x reader #medieval!loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki x reader fanfic #loki x reader fic #marvel fanfiction

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topguncortez · 9 months ago

Text

Are You With Me? - Ch. 5

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake and Y/N take their kids to say goodbye to a friend, but it goes as well as one can expect. The Seresins also learn what the next course of action is for Ella's treatment.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: medical inaccuracies, childhood cancer, death, funerals, cursing, traumatic events, fighting, slut shaming, mentions of cheating.

Jake could remember the first funeral he ever went to. He was six, not much older than Ella is now, and it was for his grandfather. His mother had dressed him up in a small black suit with a burnt orange tie, a nod towards his grandfather’s beloved Texas longhorns. His mother was dressed in a black dress and had a simple strand of pearls around her neck, the same as two of his sisters. His father was dressed similarly to Jake; black suit, orange tie.

Jake could remember walking into the church, a place he had been to a thousand times over, but now it was covered in memorial flowers and people all dressed in black. Some of the ladies wore elegant hats with lace veils over their faces. The men all seemed to have cleaned their watches and dug out their alumni rings for the occasion. Jake’s father was stopped several times in the foyer by people giving him their condolences. Jake wasn’t sure why everyone was stopping in front of a long wooden box, the women walking away with tears in their eyes.

“Come on,” Jolene said to her children, “Let’s go say goodbye to grandpa.”

All Jake could do was nod as Jolene led them over to the wooden box at the front of the sanctuary. Jake froze about three feet from the box, his heart beating fast in his chest at the sight in front of him. He felt his hands grow clammy as Jolene turned around to look at her son, who looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Jake?” Jolene asked, “What’s wrong?”

“That’s not grandpa.” Jake shook his head, pointing towards the box, “That’s not him!”

Jolene gave Jake a said smile, crouching down in front of him, “It is grandpa, Jake. It’s grandpa’s earth body. His spirit is up in heaven with Jesus.”

“They messed him up,” Jake whispered, “That’s not him!”

“How about we take a look?” Jolene pleaded with her son. Jake reluctantly nodded as Jolene stood to her full height and took his hand. Slowly they walked together to stand in front of the casket.

Jake took one look in and turned his head. The body laying in the casket looked nothing like the man he remembered. His skin was pale, almost blue and waxy. His hair looked fake and as if they used way too much hairspray to get the combover to lay flat. It all just looked wrong to Jake. It was all just wrong.

“That’s not him,” Jake shook his head as he sat down in the front row with his mother and waited for the service to begin. The whole time Jake kept repeating in his head that the man in the box was not his grandfather.

Ever since that moment at six years old, Jake dreaded funerals. It was horrible, but Jake did all he could to avoid going to them. Y/N practically had to drag him to Tom Kazansky’s funeral, and even then, Jake took Alex to the nursery about half way through the service. It wasn’t that Jake was scared to bare his emotions and mourn the loss of a life. It was that he hated seeing the body lying all alone in the pinewood box. He hated knowing that their body was going to stay there for the rest of eternity until they rotted away into nothing. He hated knowing that the last glimpse of your loved one was going to be when the funeral director closed the lid.

“Dad,” Alex’s soft voice filled the room. Jake was sitting on the bed, trying to come up with an excuse to not go to this funeral, “Can you help me with my tie?”

“Sure,” Jake nodded, sliding off the bed and kneeling in front of Alex. Y/N had gotten them both matching forest green ties, “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Alex nodded, scrunching his nose up to push his glasses up farther. Jake couldn’t help but smile at the small movement. No one was quite sure when Alex started doing that, but it was cute, “I asked Mommy to help me but Ella is sick.”

Jake’s smile turned into a small frown, “I know. . . how are you feeling about this?”

It wasn’t very often that Jake got to stop and have a conversation with Alex about everything that has gone on. Sure the boy was only seven, but he still had some idea of what was going on with his sister. Y/N and Jake’s worst fear was Alex and Eli feeling ignored during all of this. They made sure at least once a week they were taking the boys out to do something fun whether that was the arcade or the park. Eli was still too little to understand anything but Alex wasn’t.

“I’m sad that Ella is sick,” Alex shrugged, “When will she be better?”

“I don’t know, bud,” Jake sighed, “But what about not having mommy and daddy both here?”

“Oh,” Alex looked down at the ground, “Well, I guess I’m kind of sad about it. I wish you could both be here, but someone has to stay with Ella.”

Jake smiled at his son. He was as selfless as his mother, always thinking of others instead of himself, “You’re a good kid, you know that,” Alex nodded his head. Jake placed a kiss on his forehead, before standing to his full height. The two of them walked down the stairs together, finding Y/N and Ella waiting for them. They both wore black dresses and pearl necklaces, only Ella had a black hat on her head to keep her warm.

“We gotta get going,” Y/N said, standing up from the couch. The two of them loaded the kids up in the car, but Jake hesitated once he shut the car door, “What is it?”

“Do we both need to go?” Jake looked over at Y/N, “I can stay and watch-”

“Eli is with Rooster, and yes,” Y/N nodded, “We both need to go. Miranda and Dominick became our friends and we need to support them. . . this could’ve been us.”

Jake clenched his jaw and nodded. Y/N climbed into the truck without another word, and Jake followed. When they arrived at the church, Jake helped Y/N out of the truck, trying to put on a show of solidarity in front of the other couples from the hospital. Rumors had flown since their spat in the hallway, and most of the parents were ‘Team Y/N’. Y/N didn’t bother saying anything to Jake as she opened the door for the kids and took each of their hands in hers, forcing Jake to walk behind them.

The vestibule of the church was exactly like Jake could remember the one his grandfather’s funeral was in. People dressed in black, flowers all over, pictures and videos of the deceased being played but no one paid any attention to. Y/N signed the guest book for all four of them, taking a bulletin before making her way into the sanctuary.

“Remember what we talked about?” Y/N turned towards her kids, “We’re going to walk past Sammy’s body and-“

“No!” Ella cried, “I don’t wanna see him!”

“Ella,” Y/N said quietly, “You don’t have to see Sammy, but we have to walk-”

“No!” Ella shook her head, Jake placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to soothe her, “I don’t wanna!”

Y/N could feel all eyes being turned towards them and it made her skin heat up, “Baby, we have to walk by-“

“No!” Ella’s lip quivered as tears began to spill down her cheeks. Sobs racked her body as she hid her face in her hands, “I don’t wanna see him!”

Jake picked her up, setting her on his hip, “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“That’s not him!” Ella turned and hid her face into her father’s neck. Y/N felt out of options as Jake gave her a pleading look. She glanced around, noticing the stares and the looks they were gaining.

“Okay,” She sighed in defeat, “We’ll go.” Jake nodded his head, and turned on his heel, taking his sobbing child out of the church. Y/N looked over to where Miranda and Dominick stood, giving them an apologetic look before following her family. She sighed as she climbed into the truck, leaning back into her seat. She glanced at her children through the rearview mirror; Alex staring at the raindrops sliding down the window and Ella with tears running down her cheeks.

— — —

Six weeks.

It had been six weeks to the day since Y/N made the dumb mistake of falling into bed with her ex-husband. She had never been the one for casual hookups. Jake was her first everything and the most she ever let Miles do to her was go down on her. She had promised herself that she wasn’t going to be a woman who hooks up with her ex-husband out of convenience, but here she was, hooking up with her ex-husband out of convenience and currently watching him as he blatantly flirted with Becky, one of the mom’s in the therapy group.

The styrofoam cup in Y/N’s hand was hot as she stared daggers at the blonde man, who was turning on his charm as he talked to Becky. The smile. The chuckle. The head tilt. The gentle hand on her arm when he walked away. It all angered Y/N.

Hell, what didn’t anger Y/N these days.

“Hey,” Jake said as he sauntered up to you, grabbing one of the glazed donuts on the table.

‘Fuck you for eating that donut’ Y/N thought. She had always been amazed at Jake’s body and how he was able to eat nearly anything and everything he wanted. But now, it annoyed her. The stress from taking care of her sick child, her poorly timed eating schedule and not being able to go to the gym had their effects on Y/N and she had gained some weight. She hated looking at herself in the mirror and hated even more when Jake would sit and make sure she ate something substantial.

“Hello?” Jake swiped his hand in front of his wife, earning him a glare.

“Don’t wave your hand in my face,” She snapped.

“I’m sorry,” Jake apologized, “What’s going on? You seem out of it.”

Y/N pursed her lips, debating on saying something or biting her tongue, “Becky got a boob job last summer with her divorce settlement.” Jake’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her, “You like natural so I thought I’d give you a heads up.” She simply shrugged and walked away to find a chair in the center circle.

Another thing Y/N didn’t want to say out loud was how much therapy had actually been helping her. She hadn’t said anything more than the bare minimum; who she was, what her child was diagnosed with, what the prognosis is, and a weekly update on how her child is doing. It was nothing more and nothing less than that every meeting. But Y/N did enjoy the adult interaction for an hour twice a week. She didn’t realize how much she missed being around people her own age, even if she couldn’t remember half the names of the people in the group. Jake had attended every meeting with her, sitting next to her and silently supporting her when she gave her opening statement.

Jake sat down in his usual chair, in the middle of Y/N and Marjorie, the elderly lady who ran the therapy group. She reminded him of his grandmother, permed gray hair, bright pink lipstick on her lips, and she smelled like cherries and vanilla. She also had the slightest southern twang which Jake appreciated from time to time. Marjorie always had a large, leatherbound journal with her at every meeting which confused Jake. He never saw her take any notes, never saw her turn any pages. But the book was in her lap, open to some page at every meeting.

“Good morning my beautiful caretakers,” Marjorie said, gathering the attention of the group. Y/N fought hard to not roll her eyes at the usual greeting, “Let us start with our daily openings. Jacob, how about you start?”

“Oh, I’d love to, Marjorie,” Jake smiled at her and Y/N did, in fact, roll her eyes this time.

Therapy droned on for another hour, as Y/N pretty much blocked out everything that anyone was saying. It was all the same, week after week. But what wasn’t the same, was the two open chairs next to her. It pained her as she glanced over to where Miranda and Dominick had sat just a few weeks ago. No one knew that Sammy had gotten so sick and was circling the drain. Miranda had sat there and told the group that Sammy was still fighting hard, that he was still continuing his treatment with a smile on his face. No one knew that in a few short days, Sammy would pass away in front of his parents.

Y/N picked up her head and looked at the group of parents and guardians in front of her. She wondered how many of them were saying that their children were still strong and fighting when in reality, the grim reaper was knocking on their door. A sick feeling rose in her belly. The same sick feeling she had been feeling for the past week.

“I know he’s going to keep-“

Y/N stood up quickly, cutting off Becky, who glared at her, “I’m sorry.” She muttered, turning for the door of the meeting room. She tried her best not to break out into a run, but she moved as quick as she possibly could.

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched her retreating form scamper out of the room like a fire was lit under her ass. He turned his head back towards Becky, watching as the crocodile tears streamed down her face. Sure, Jake felt bad her son had cancer, but he’s also been in remission for six weeks now and yet, Becky still comes in to hit on the dads.

Yes, Jake is well aware that Becky flirts with him at any given chance. And yes, he knows that Y/N is jealous of that. Y/N has always been the type to wear her emotions on her face, and Jake can feel the daggers that she glares into his spine whenever he talks to Becky. He should tell her that there’s nothing to be jealous of, that she’s the only one he wants. But Jake is a guy. And sometimes those male like tendencies take over, especially when it comes to one Y/N Seresin. He never knew she could be so possessive and kinky until about six weeks ago. He swore that they’ve been having the best sex they’ve ever had.

Y/N had returned by the time the meeting had concluded. Her eyes and nose were red, as if she had been crying. Jake’s green eyes tracked her as she moved around the room, going straight for the coffee pot. All the alarm bells were going off in his head, and his body moved without second thought. She had barely set the coffee pot down when Jake grabbed her elbow, dragging her away.

“Hey! Let me go!” Y/N protested, pulling her arm free, “You heathen. I can walk on my own-“

“Are you pregnant?”

It took Y/N a moment, as the words that left Jake’s mouth registered in her mind, “No. I’m not pregnant, you twat,” Jake felt the tension in his body relax for a moment, “I know I have gained weight, but I don’t need you pointing that out.”

“Wait, no,” Jake shook his head, “I wasn’t pointing out that you gained weight, which, you look fantastic,” She scoffed, “It’s just that you’re drinking coffee and you never do unless you’re-” He gestured towards her stomach.

“I’m not pregnant,” Y/N stated again, shoving the cup in his hand, “I’m going to check on Ella.”

Y/N tried her best to keep her face neutral until she got into the elevator, her body nearly collapsing against the metal wall. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she reached into her pocket, pulling her phone out and looking at her calendar. The bright red circle around the date was almost mocking her as she breath caught in her throat.

“No way,” She shook her head, “No fucking way.”

— — —

“Take a deep breath. You’re okay,” The nurse spoke calmly as she ran her hand over Ella’s back, holding the oxygen mask to her face. It was the third time in the past week that Ella has had these attacks where she can’t breathe.

“I can’t- I can’t,” Ella gasped, her big green eyes frantically looking around the room.

Y/N quickly moved towards her, sitting on the edge of the bed, “You can. Take a deep breath, Ella.” Ella sucked in as deep of a breath as her little lungs could, which resulted in her coughing. Y/N closed her eyes, trying to hold back tears as her daughter coughed and gasped for air.

“Y/N,” the nurse said to her, “Why don’t you go get some air. I got this.”

Every fiber of her being was telling her to stay by Ella’s side, but she couldn’t watch for any longer. Ella looked up at her mom, giving her hand a light squeeze as if to tell her it was alright. The familiar burn of tears clogged her throat as she stood up from the bed.

“Thank you,” Her voice was barely a whisper as she quickly made her exit out of the room.

Y/N let out a sigh as she walked down the hallway, clenching and unclenching her shaky fists. The familiar grip of anxiety held her heart as stopped at the nurses’ station, placing her elbows on the counter and running her hands through her hair. Y/N couldn’t decide what was worse, watching her child get so violently ill that the blood vessels in her face broke or watching her gasp for precious air. She determined that both of them sucked.

“Y/N,” Miles' voice sounded out. She looked up at him, expecting to see that warm, comforting smile, but instead was met with a grim look, “Doctor Thomas and I need to talk to you. . . both of you.”

Jake had started to hate this office. He hated the bright posters on the wall and the stuffed animals on the couch behind him. As much as this office was trying to be a bright, cheerful place, it brought nothing but heartache and pain. The tension was thick as the two of them were trying to wrap their heads around what Doctor Thomas had just said. Jake’s eyes flitted over to Y/N who was staring at something on the desk in front of her. He so badly wanted to reach out and grab her hand.

“The transplant list?” Her voice sounded out, sounding weak and farther away than the seat next to him, “She. . . you’re putting her on the transplant list?”

Miles licked his lips before answering, “We think it’s the best course of action.”

“What about the lobectomy?”

“The cancer will just come back,” Doctor Thomas said, “The only guaranteed way that the cancer will go away and stay away is if we do this transplant.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to grasp what was really going on. She had called Jake almost as soon as Miles said he needed to talk to them both. Jake had left base like a bat out of hell, getting to the hospital in an amount of time that could only be done by speeding. They knew that one of the treatment options would have to be removing a portion of Ella’s lung. Y/N hated the idea of her child going under the knife to remove a portion of herself.

“How long?” Y/N looked up at Miles, “How long do you think she’ll have to wait?”

Both Miles and Doctor Thomas shifted in their seats.

“Pediatric lungs are hard to come by,” Doctor Thomas spoke softly, “Finding a match can be even harder. It could be six weeks, could be six months. We don’t-”

“Oh god,” Y/N closed her eyes, a sick feeling sinking her stomach, “We have to wait for another child to-”

“Donor,” Doctor Thomas said, “We have to wait for a donor.”

“A child,” Y/N snapped her eyes open and glared at the blonde woman in front of her, “We have to wait for another child to die to save our child.”

“Well, if you think about it that-”

“There is no other way to think about it!” Y/N’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the arms of the chair, “The only way our child can live is if another child dies!”

Doctor Thomas looked over towards Jake, “I think it’s best if we-”

“Don’t look at him,” Y/N sneered, “You are talking to me. There has to be another way. There has to be. . . Miles,” Y/N gave him a pleading look.

“I’m sorry,” Miles said sincerely, “We have discussed this at length, getting second opinions from our pulmonary specialists and transplant specialists, we think this is the best course of action.”

The office was quiet, as the words seemed to settle over Jake and Y/N. His heart was still pounding in his ears and he wasn’t one hundred percent certain he understood what Miles and Doctor Thomas were saying. He got that Ella was sicker than they thought, and the original plan was no longer going to work. But still, Jake couldn’t really wrap his head around what was going on.

“I know that this is hard to understand,” Doctor Thomas said, “And you’re having an emotional-”

“Fuck you,” Y/N spat. Jake snapped his head towards his wife, “Fuck you,” She leaned forward, her eyes burning into Doctor Thomas, “You have no idea what kind of response I am having to hearing my child is dying and the only way to save her is to let another child die. You have no idea ‘cause you aren’t a mother. No,” She chuckled, “You’re just a slut who goes after married men.”

“Y/N,” Jake finally spoke up.

Doctor Thomas stood up from her chair. If she was insulted by Y/N’s words, she did a great job at hiding them as she rolled her shoulders back, “I think that is all for today. Miles will keep you updated on Ella’s status on the transplant list. Jake, Y/N,” Doctor Thomas nodded to them both, before she left the room.

“I’ll let you guys have the room,” Miles said, following after Doctor Thomas.

Silence reigned over the two of them, as Jake shifted in his chair to face his wife, “I know you’re upset, but that was uncalled for. Calling her a slut?”

“She is,” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jake groaned, running a hand down his face, “We were split up.”

“We weren’t divorced yet,” She glared at him, “I atleast had the respect to wait until the ink had dried on the papers to go out and find someone. You. . . you were already chasing tail the moment I kicked you out. Hell, before I kicked you out.”

“Okay,” Jake shook his head, “What is your fucking deal? Hm? This isn’t like you. I thought the group therapy was helping.”

Y/N sighed, “It is.” And that was true. The group therapy was helping her mood for the most part.

“Then what is going on?” Jake grabbed her hand, “I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me.”

His eyes were full of sincerity and longing as he searched hers for a sign of what could be going on. Y/N used to be such an open book, but now it was getting harder and harder to read her, unless the emotion was anger. He missed the days where she would talk to him about anything and everything. It could be about something that pissed her off or something that made her smile.

Tears welled up in her eyes, as Y/N looked away from her ex. She felt stupid. She felt so incredibly stupid that this happened to her. Of all the times they had tried and tried and failed, this happened when they didn’t even want it to.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath, “I’m late.”

“Late?” Jake asked, confused. All she did was look at him and he realized what she was talking about, “You’re late.” He sat back in his chair, still holding her hand, “You’re late.”

taglist: @sio-ina-bottle @kmc1989 @soulmates8 @averyhotchner @fandom-life-12 @jazminlahey20 @jessicab1991 @reidshearts @princess76179 @dizzybee03 @dempy @kellyls04 @daddymack01 @beautifulandvoid @noonenuts @bradleybeachbabe @its-the-pilot @buckysteveloki-me @shibble @a-library-ofmy-own @fanfictionismyhobby @emilyoflanternhill @seitmai @moonlessnight14 @hardballoonlove @sgt-barnesveins @vhkdncu2ei8997 @1nterstellarcha0s @krispybearbouquet @buckystwilight @a-serene-place-to-be @seresinslady @na-ta-sh-aa @milestomaverick @itsmytimetoodream @topgunslut @yuckosworld @angelbabyange @pedrohoe04 @midnightmagpiemama @lynnevanss @ummjustfics @julybs @thegoddessc @mrsevans90 @mjsvinyl @luversgirl @silenthappyplace @buckysvinyl @fogle97

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years ago

Note

hi dear just wondering if you're taking request? If not then feel free to ignore me but I was wondering what or how would the yandere twisted wonderland boys react to a willing reader who actually finds there yandere tendencies hot and endearing and actually does not mind being locked up or the reader is just generally obsessed as they are with them hahaha sorry if it's to hard but if you find it uncomfortable then feel free to ignore me dear

Yandere-Obsessed | Yandere Twisted Wonderland x Reader

Malleus Draconia

“I will never let you leave my sights again!”

“Why would I ever?”

After nearly obliterating those he feels as though are a threat to your health

He snaps

With glowing green eyes, he refuses to let you go despite any protests you may have

But you have none

Immediately jumping into the near-dragon amalgamation’s arms as you lovingly rub your cheek against him

“I’m so happy, you feel the same!”

“Wait…does…this mean you purposefully orchestrated the incident?”

“Hehehe maybe?”

“...You love me as well?”

“Ohh Malleus I adore you!”

He’s near melting

You guys are the couple that sits in public places with hardly any space between you as your constantly looking into each other's eyes

Its a fight should anyone intervene

On both ends

Sebek’s reeling but he gains a whole lot of respect when you easily threaten his life

Malleus and you are in your own world

Most people don’t get killed only because you two are so focused on one another no one really penetrates your bubble

“My child of man it felt as if my heart was torn in two! I can breathe now that your in my arms again!”

“Oh Mal-Mal!”

Jack Howl

“W-wait (Y/n) i-its not what you think!”

“Really? It looks like that guy was suffocated to death and your burying him.”

“(Y/n)-”

“You can’t bury him yet until we remove any and all traces of you! See!? Your nail marks are a dead-giveaway!”

“Uh–”

“Here we should just burn this part that way no one will know!”

“T-thanks?”

“Of course, baby.”

He’s always felt guilty for the stuff he was doing in your name

But to see you his beloved, his mate assure him

Brings him an air of confidence

Now he knows that you acknowledge him and will even defend him

Like a true mate!

He’s so pleased he doesn’t have to fight you to accept him

Rather he’s fighting you from doing the same

It just makes him so embarrassed you care for him

“Love you don’t need to do away with the other contestants!”

“But look at your blush! You won’t mind it all that much you can step down from your high horse for me? Right?”

“...Fine b-but you promise to spend the rest of the night kissing me, right!?”

Idia Shroud

“Y-you knew I was watching? T-the whole time?!”

“Yup! I’m surprised you hardly noticed the ones I had on you!”

“W-what!?”

Any semblance of the love-obsessed mad scientist is diminished by your overwhelming display of love

He’s too busy reeling from that obsessed look you give him

He’s so easy to dominate from then on

Avidly obeying all your promises to terminate anyone who talks to him

All with a love-obsessed blush on his face

But even with your reciprocated love, he’ll eventually want for more

Whether he convinces himself you're faking it or that you are trying to outshine his love

He’s turning the tables on you

Coming up with something that will really blow your socks off

Something to show you he is the ultimate yandere in this relationship

“Darling, how clever you summoned the robots of S.T.Y.X to eliminate all your rivals. But believe me, I will do the same.”

“Hehe you misunderstand, muffin! They’re aren’t only here to eliminate my rivals but there also going to escort you to my love dungeon!”

“Love dungeon?”

“Yeah, how’s that for yandere!? I love you more than anyone even you can’t compete with me!”

Jamil Viper

“So if my suspicions are right you’ve been using snake whisper so that they’ll all stay away from me, right?”

“...”

“Don’t look so tense I wanted to thank you! And I wanted to ask if you noticed my own attempts to be noticed by you?”

“W-what?!”

He’s usually on top of it when it comes to knowing about you and hiding his feelings at the same time

But he completely skimmed over your various attempts to reciprocate his violent-obsessive tendencies

He’s reluctant to believe you

But when he does he’s falling even more in love

He plans to occupy all your time

And doesn’t mind when you start sleeping at Scarabia just to be closer to him

He loves it so much

He acts so much goofier because he’s falling in love all over again

“You better not be lying to me about this…”

“Trance me if you really want to know!”

“Maybe I will.”

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del-thetiredwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Team Blacks reaction to Y/N’s suicide

Requested

its what teams black reaction after this fic :Do you love me , Say you love me

Warnings: my bad writing and English. English is my second language

Tag: @lilithskywalker

Thank you for request. Please feel free to request or ask thinks. I enjoy while writing and literally my ask - request box is empty 😅

Rhaenyra couldn't believe her ears when she heard the news. She fainted on the spot. She still hadn't gotten over the shock when she woke up. Her only daughter, her beloved daughter had taken her own life. First Visersy, then Lucersy now you… She had heard of your miscarriage. She knew that feeling of helplessness, loneliness, pain… but she didn't think you were going to commit suicide. Her dreams of after winning the war, opening her arms and hugging you were all shattered.Rhaenyra blamed Aegon and the other greens for your death. This marriage should never have happened. She had asked you many times if you had consent in this marriage. She wished that she had never let you leave and marry.

“My stupid daughter , my poor naive daughter why did you left my side, why did you left your mom like this.”

Jacaerys heard the news from his mother. He was so shocked that he didn’t know how to react . Did his sister, the sister he loved more than himself, committed suicide? Jacaerys was enraged. To him, you didn't commit suicide, you were killed. He was the first to oppose your marriage. He had begged you over and over not to be with Aegon. That's why you fought so many times and told him you were happy… jacaerys gritted his teeth. He wanted to make Aegon suffer he stole you from him . Not only to steal your mother's throne, marry you, and cause your death now he didn’t let you have a proper funeral and took your body.

"I swear, Aegon, I'll make you experience a thousand times what you did to my sister !"

Baela and Rhaena have nothing to say. Both are in deep mourning. You've always been a big sister to them. They hadn't been this sad since their mother Laena died. They did not want to eat, drink , did not want to do anything. They calmed down by crying on your shoulder at their mother's funeral, you comforted them but now it was neither you nor your consolation for them to calm down.

Daemon wouldn’t react much to outside. He would only console his wife, Rhenyra by saying that he would take your revenge. You weren't very close with Daemon but when Daemon heard that you had committed suicide, he felt strange. It's an uncomfortable feeling. He took pity on you when he learned that your body was still held by Aegon, and that there was no funeral. You may not be very close but at least you should have peace after death and he will do his best for it.

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yurislotusgarden · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there! How are you? Can I please request number 11 for the event with Dazai, Kunikida, and Fyodor? I'm a sucker for giving hand kisses, honestly XD. Gn or female reader, I don't mind.

ʚїɞ Separately! Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ The event

ʚїɞ word count: just over 1k

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, reader’s gender is not specified in any way, they both are lowkey whipped <33, This is my fav work so far ngl

ʚїɞ I'm very well these days, thank you for asking! I do not write for Kunikida, sorry anon! Hope you don't mind it too much!

ʚїɞ Does it all the time, at every opportunity

ʚїɞ You think you would get used to it, and you probably would stop getting that red hue on your cheeks if he didn’t keep eye contact with you while doing it

ʚїɞ Ya know the way one would bow to kiss a lady’s hand as a greeting in the past?

ʚїɞ Yeah he does that

ʚїɞ There's no place on your hands that hasn't been kissed by this man

////////////////

The sun was slowly going down, the orange hue falling over the water, giving it a beautiful glow.

Two figures could be seen taking a walk along the water line, green bushes and trees dimmed in color upon being caught in the sun's rays, surroundings pleasantly bare of other people.

Dazai Osamu, one of the two figures mentioned before, thought that he had seen everything and that no view could cause shock or any other bigger emotion to go throughout his body or mind, and yet, he's standing still, planted in one place, the view of his beloved s/o, the love of his life, painted in the orange-yellow glow of the setting sun, taking his breath away.

Sometimes he wonders, how did he get so lucky? Because he had to do something in his past life to deserve all this. There’s no way he just got lucky for no reason, it’s not possible, not for him.

“You alright, Samu?”

A simple question said in a gentle voice, was enough to snap the man out of the daze he was in. He was so in his thoughts that he didn't even register you looking over at him.

“Yeah… Yeah, I am, love. Sorry for that.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, don’t worry. We all get lost in our thoughts sometimes.”

Oh… Dazai swears that if he were to die right now, even if in the most painful way imaginable, it would still be a happy death.

He cannot comprehend your care. For other people, objects, opinions, all sorts of things… and him. He will never understand how can you care for him out of all people. Past him would argue that he simply doesn’t deserve it, and present him can’t fully disagree but… if you decided he deserves it, or needs it, as you once said, he will take it all. His heart never would, still can’t, and never will be able to stand the precious love that comes from you.

Dazai was aware you were about to speak, but he still went with what he wished to do. A hand gently touched yours, grasping it softly before bringing it up a little, effectively stopping you from speaking.

Once he brought your hand up enough, around the height of his hips, he could be seen leaning down, seemingly bowing before placing a gentle kiss upon your knuckles while keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

If there’s one thing he could promise to never get tired of, it would definitely be the light red hue blossoming upon your cheeks every time.

ʚїɞ Does it as an actual greeting

ʚїɞ He woke up and said "Let's be an asshole to everyone but the love of my life, Let's be a gentleman to them instead"

ʚїɞ He ALWAYS goes for the knuckles

ʚїɞ He bows on occasions, but most of the time he raises your hand up to his lips to place a gentle kiss, usually as a hello or goodbye

////////////////

The moon shined brightly tonight, giving everything that met the gentle glow a serene silver look.

Serenity. Something Fyodor doesn't have unless he finds himself inside the four walls of his home. Something he always, with no fail, finds near you. You, the figure he's been looking at for the previous half a minute.

The dark-haired man was planning on leaving the house quietly, with little to no sound to ensure that his beloved wouldn't wake, yet there you were. Glowing under the moonlight shining through the window not too far away from your person like a fairy, like an angel that decided to bless him with their presence. 'Like the moon is calling out to them' he thought.

“So? Will you answer my question, Fedya?”

A quiet, gentle voice snapped Fyodor out of the trance he found himself in. He always does it whenever you both are awake at such ungodly hours, doesn’t he?

“Yeah. Just have to go look through something, won’t take too long, myshka.”

And he can’t help it. The way you look under the moonlight will always take the air out of his lungs for a short minute. The way it makes your hair shine gently, the way your figure fits into the grey shades around you, the way it makes your eyes look so serene.

A sigh came from your direction before you spoke up. “Just come back safe, please.”

He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you and your care. He’s aware of that fact. Fyodor was aware of what he did for his plans, and that someone else who would do something like he does, wouldn’t most likely get such care from someone so delicate.

It doesn’t matter how you look, because in his eyes you’re like a fragile doll, something that could be broken if not looked after properly. The dark-haired man doesn’t know how he got your heart, but he guessed he had to get simply lucky. Fyodor didn’t manipulate you, even if it was in his plans, had you happened to not fall for him through his advances, but you did. It was all you.

“You know I will.”

A promise he swore to keep. After all, in his eyes there had to be someone to protect you. His figure could be seen walking up to you in a calm manner before he slowly stuck out his hand towards you, a sign for you to give him your hand yourself. You did so. It would be a crime if he said he never noticed how your eyes always seem to soften up at his gesture.

Fyodor could’ve been seen raising your hand up to his lips, before planting a gentle goodbye kiss upon your knuckles.

Serenity. A word foreign to Fyodor before you came into his life, but he couldn’t have been more grateful for that.

Notes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated

#idk why this is my fav but for some reason it's so satisfying #to read for me #bsd x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #x reader #dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd fyodor #bungo stray dogs x reader

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ghostwiththeemost · 2 months ago

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ FROM THE CRADLE TO CREMATION . . . DEATH JUST NEEDS A LITTLE CONVERSATION ~ !࿐ྂ

Hey babes~ seems ya found my blog! Welcome to my humble abode. You may be asking “who is this SEXY SEXY man?” Well I’ll tell ya! I’m Behjdbbdnf… Beejkbngd… Bug wine. 🪲🧃. Use the emojis babe. I can’t type my own fucking name apparently. How fucked up is THAT?! Ugh, anyway… Let’s get onto the real shit. I’m the boss bitch here, you should hire me to get some shitty humans out of your beloved home. Or, call me up to fuck. Either works.

Alright, alright. People put their info and shit so I’ll do just that. I’m 🪲🧃, but ya can call me “sexy” or “handsome” or “sweets” or “pretty boy” or anything ;)~ Kay, moving on! I’m the ghost with the most, the biggest dick in town babe. He/him, but I can also be your/yours~ ;) I don’t care for labels, I’m a sexual beast. You wanna talk? Talk. You wanna flirt? Flirt. Send nudes? Eeeehhhh… Probably not, sorry sweetheart. I’d totally say yes, but that’d get me banned.

Anything else? Yeah, a lot actually. Ask me about shit. I’m over 600 years old, I’ve seen a lot, done a lot, witnessed a lot, I’m the fuckin best. I mean look at me, I’m the coolest ghost in town! ;)~ Also the best dick. DEFINITELY the best dick.

Well well well! Quite Fancy seeing you back here! Yet ANOTHER wonderful roleplay blog, and even a BETTER character?!?!??!?!1 WOAHHHHH! Wowie!

Hi! I'm the wonderful mod behind this obnoxious green ghoul of a man, and I hope you can stay a bit, have a seat, chat a bit! Learn a bit, see some tags behind this wonderful super duper cool page, yakknow how it is!

The name's Dew! Dewey if you wanna be fancy, but nah, I'm just a guy on the internet here to write for his funny bug man. No formalities needed. The pronouns are HE/SHE! I'm Genderfluid and Gay!

Kay, mini bits of info here... I'm an adult! So that being said I'm going to keep a boundary on certain aspects such as some forms of nsfw and SOME ships. Mostly I don't care? I'd just prefer if you were to tell me or have your age in bio before deciding to imply nsfw ROLEPLAYS. Flirting or nsfw anons I don't really care about, it's bound to happen, but you get it. also beetlebabes dni you all SUUUUUCKKKK.

Let's see... I have some other accounts. @candycoffinss , @photographerstanheight , @screamingqueenxoxo ... Other stuff, we'll see what I reveal.

Right, right... Tags and extra info... |🪲| ~ 𝑴𝑶𝑫 𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑺! - This is me talking!! >:] |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑳𝑬𝑱𝑼𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺! - Replies to asks, you know how it is. |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑱’𝑺 𝑽𝑰𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑺! - call for interacts maybe?? |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑳𝑬𝑱𝑼𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺! - Random yapping he does, reblogs... etc. |🪲| ~ 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑳𝑬𝑱𝑼𝑰𝑪𝑬𝑺 𝑯𝑨𝑼𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺! - Interactions Yeaaaaa

|🪲🔞| ~ 𝑺𝑼𝑮𝑮𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬! - yea some things will be suggestive labeled just in case pleeease be cautious tyyy beetlejuice can be a menace.

ALRIGHT! FINAL BIT OF INFO!!!!! This writing of beetlejuice is a mix of everything, but I'm mainly leaning toward Justin Collette's version of Beetlejuice. He's still Beetlejuice of course, but keep in mind he won't be much like Alex Brightman if you're looking for an adaptation of him! (...There will be crumbs tho. Pathetic meow meow...) ANYWAY! Yeah, Just wanted to throw that out there, I didn't know if people would want my head for it LMAOOOO but YEAH!!! I'm free w any interactions btw. other fandoms, other blogs, movie characters, musical characters, do it !! >:] ok I think that's it... until I decide to go bonkers again. thanks for reading if you got this far! smooches ur forehead /p

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bubblegump-1-nk · 1 year ago

Text

Can’t Catch Me Now

Matthew Riddle x Fem!Reader

summary: Mattheo’s father sent him on a mission: make you fall in love with him, then lure you into a death trap. He should’ve known you wouldn’t let him forget you that easily…

Disclaimer: mentions of death, toxic relationships, cursing, slight mentions of torture

Song: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

- First time writing for Mattheo! Wanted to do another fic abt my baby Theo but this idea came to me and couldn’t bring myself to write something so toxic about him 😭. Also there’s a lot of time skips in this so I hope it’s easy to follow!

“I love you.” You said sweetly.

“Me too, see you tonight.” Mattheo responded.

You kissed him on the cheek and entered the Transfiguration classroom as Mattheo left to go to Divinations. Tonight… if only you knew what was in store for you. Time past forward quickly, and now Mattheo was knocking on your dorm door, and you walked out, ready for your date.

“You look beautiful” He said

“Thank you. You don’t look to drab yourself.” You said, causing him to chuckle before taking your hand and leading you out of the castle.

You two had been walking for ages, getting farther and farther away from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Not a soul in sight.

“Ok seriously, where are we going Matty? We’ve been walking for years.” You say, dragging out the last word.

“Soon. We’ll be there soon.” He said, tensing up as he did.

You were now at a location, heavily secluded from everyone and everything. You joked that no one would hear you scream out here. Only you had meant it in a different way than what was actually held in store for you. That’s when they appeared, the Death Eaters. You looked at Mattheo in shock, but he was already tearing his hand away from yours and stepping back, taking his wand out.

“Mattheo?” You whispered, tears in your eyes. A look of horror on your face. No wand in hand.

You screamed when the Crucio hit your chest, soon followed by a spell that left you unconscious on the floor.

***

You had been sitting in the chair for hours. You hands and legs tied back. About 5 Death Eaters were in the room, Mattheo making up the 6. He never hit you with a spell, but he never blocked one either. Just stood there, watching, his face wiped clear of any emotions. As you were focused on him, you made eye contact with him for the first time since being in the room. The spells had stopped for about 20 seconds now. Was it finally over? Were you free to go? That’s when it hit you. The green light. You fell unconscious, never to be seen again.

“Mattheo wake up! We’re here.” Said Theo (😍), having been shaking Mattheo vigorously for about 3 minutes.

“What?” He asked, still shaken from the dream he just had. He’s been having it for weeks now. Ever since the incident. Your death has followed him even into his unconscious mind. He can’t escape you.

“We’ve arrived at Hogwarts you idiot.” Said Draco, exasperated at Mattheo’s constant zoning out.

All the boys knew about the mission, they all knew what happened in the late days of May. They were all at the meeting after your death, Voldemort congratulated all of them - which is something you don’t simply forget. Y/n’s father was a powerful wizard, who declined all of the Dark Lord’s advancements of recruitment. So, Voldemort decided he might just need a little push, that being the death of his beloved daughter Y/n. It didn’t work, of course, and instead your father and mother ended up fleeing to some desolate place.

“Git.” Mattheo said, before slapping Draco across the head and collecting his belongings to get off the train.

Draco lifted his arm as to hit Mattheo back but Blaise grabbed his arm and gave him a look that made Draco forget about hitting him. They all knew Mattheo never actually loved you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still responsible for killing someone. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s turning out just like his father.

———

They soon entered Hogwarts and took their seats at the Slytherin table.

“What’s taking the first years so long?” Theo asked, wondering why the sorting ceremony hadn’t started yet.

“Beats me but I’m fucking starving.” Said Blaise.

Mattheo was about to speak but was cut off by Dumbledore, who now stood in front of the podium.

“Welcome all back to Hogwarts. Now, I’m aware that you must all be very hungry, but this is a statement I must make, and we’ve decided it’s better made without the first years present.” He paused for a moment, adjusted his glasses, and continued. “As I’m sure you all sadly know, one of your classmates has died this pass summer.” A complete hush fell over the Great Hall, everybody knew about what happened to you. What happened to your family. Except, no one knew who or what caused it. Your death and your parents ‘disappearance’ was all a mystery to everyone except for the 4 Slytherin boys sitting at the middle of the table in far right.

“Y/n L/n was a strong witch, who was kind to all who…..”

Mattheo began to zone out, not wanting to be reminded of you more than he already was. It all started about 2 weeks after your murder. The first time was when he awoke in the middle of the night, you had infiltrated his dreams again. He went outside for a smoke, when he heard it.

“Mmaatheeooo”

He turned his head swiftly to the left, where the sound came from.

“Mmaatheeooo”

It came again, but this time from behind him. Your voice. It was your voice.

This reoccurred about once a week. Sometimes in the dead of the night, sometimes while eating lunch or reading the Daily Prophet.

———-

Mattheo tried his best to forget about you, to have a good year, but it was hard with you stalking his every move. It had worsened now. He heard you calling his name almost every day, your face appeared in the flames of the fire in the common room for a split second last night. He’s already found three of the letters you wrote him in the past on his desk, letters he was sure he had burned. And the worst part was, he couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t say anything. He would just appear weak and crazy.

It was now early November, and the days were getting colder. Mattheo found himself walking alone outside, going to retrieve the jumper he left by Hagrid’s hut. As he was nearing the hut he heard a strange sound. Almost like heavy footsteps. He turned around, and looked around swiftly but not a soul was outside. He shook it off and continued walking, except this time the footsteps were louder, and closer. He turned around again but not a person was in sight. He began to walk faster, the footsteps did too. He stopped abruptly, looking around one last time, when he saw them. Footprints, leading all the way up to right by his side. His heart beat faster, and the wind began whistling as it passed through the trees. The world was silent.

“Mattheo” Came a voice right beside him.

Mattheo jumped back, a quiet shriek leaving his throat.

“Mattheo” It came again.

“Get the fuck away from me! Stay the fuck away from me!” He called out. It was silent for a few seconds, Mattheo thinking his warning had worked.

“Catch me.” The voice said. Your voice said.

Mattheo was confused, what did you mean ‘catch me?’ Was that even what you said? Your voice was a breathy whisper, so the words were hard to make out.

“What is wrong with you?” He called out again.

“Can’t. Catch me. Now.” You said, your voice circling around Mattheo.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Mattheo practically screamed this time.

All was quiet, before the footsteps slowly started walking away. It appeared as though you were walking backwards, by the looks of the prints.

Mattheo stood there, shocked, watching as you walked away from him.

Then the footsteps were gone, just as quickly as they had come and the landscape returned to a quiet and peaceful one. The sky was getting darker, and by the looks of it, Mattheo had missed dinner. He slowly began dragging his feet in the direction of the astronomy tower. Once he reached the top, he let out a sigh and pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter.

He’s beginning to think he might just be going crazy.

“Figured you’d be up here.” Says a voice from behind him.

“Yep.” He says, as Theo comes to stand next to him.

“Pass me one.” Theo says, holding his hand out for a cigarette. Mattheo hands him one and Theo lights it.

The smoke in silence, appreciating the view along with the cold air. The smoke from the cigarettes blending with the smoke from their breath.

“She’s everywhere you know.” Mattheo blurts out.

Theo’s silent for a moment, staring out at the sky.

“I know.” He says, finally.

“You do?” Mattheo asks, turning to face Theo. A confused expression painting his face.

“Yeah. I hear her laughter.” Theo explains.

“Her laughter? That’s it?” Mattheo asks, temper rising. How come he has to endure all this pain and Theo gets laughter?

“Yeah, she sort of just laughs lightly every now and again. It used to scare me shitless but now I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Yeah we’ll count yourself fucking lucky. She calls out my name. She fucking followed me today, her footprints were everywhere. Her voice was saying some shit about how I can’t catch her anymore. This shits so fucked up.” He says, growing angrier by each word.

Theo let’s out a laugh.

“You think this is fucking funny, do you?”

“Well, I mean, she’s right. You can’t catch her anymore.”

“Does it look like a give a fuck? Why doesn’t she whisper to you this shit, huh?” Mattheo asks, annoyed.

“Maybe because she never loved me. Maybe because she loved you.”

“Yeah, well, you were just as responsible in her death as I was.”

“Right… but it was you she trusted.” Theo says.

“Alright mate are you on her side or mine?”

“Yours obviously. She’s coming for me too.”

“You know, I miss her, now and then.” Mattheo says, reluctantly after a bout of silence

“Yeah well that’s no good is it? She’s still dead whether you miss her or not.”

“I fucking know that! Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” Mattheo yells, throwing his cigarette at Theo

“Calm down mate. It’s not doing you any good getting worked up about it.”

——-

It’s December now. All the leaves have left their trees and the the weather’s gotten harsh and bitter. Mattheo can’t escape you no matter what he does. You’re here, you’re there, you’re fucking everywhere. He hears your voice when the wind blows, hears your laughter in the rustle of the trees. The other boys all know of Mattheo’s pain. They’ve experience it too, but like Theo, they only experience it now and again. It seems they’re not your priority on your haunting list.

Mattheo’s laying in his bed, trying to find sleep. You haven’t let him sleep properly since about 3 weeks ago. As he turns to the side, he sees the curtains around his four poster shifting, getting moved to the side. He intakes a sharp breath. The curtains fully open now, and he’s met with a cold wind.

“Won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” He whisper-shouts.

He’s met with no answer. The room is now completely silent, and before long 10 minutes have past. Was that really all you came to do? Move his curtain? Whatever it was, he’s thankful for your departure because now he’s really feeling the exhaustion kick in. His eyes begin to shut and his body relaxes as it melts into his mattress. Just as he feels like he’s about to get the sleep he’s so desperately been needing…

“See you tomorrow” You whisper, right into his ear, mocking the words he had said to you the night of your murder.

———-

Sorry if the ending sucks, this idea came to me late one night so I began to write but I didn’t really think it out before I started 😭 I didn’t want to have this in my to-do list for forever so I’m really sorry if this feels rushed! I hope you guys enjoy it anyway

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin boys #theodore nott #angst #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #tw death #the hunger games #haunted #major angst

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queerprayers · 1 year ago

Text

update <3

I've been procrastinating this (as if that could make it all less real), but so many people have sent prayers and well wishes that I wouldn't feel right not letting you know how grateful I am for your words and also letting you know this: My beloved grandfather died last week.

I honor the faithful service he gave to countless churches and communities, the children he helped raise, the grandchildren he sang to, the children he baptized, the couples (including my parents) he married, the people he buried, the music and faith that never left him even when so much of him did.

I will pass on the last thing he ever said to me, in July, after a busy and joyful weekend celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary, as he got in bed for his nap, taking seconds in between words to think: "It's not all hard. Not all the time." This is so hard. But it's also part of loving someone: promising to mourn them when the time comes. Promising to keep going. Love is hard, but it's not all hard. Not all the time.

His funeral will be Catholic, but he used to be a Lutheran, and he presided over many funerals from the worship book I still use, so here are some words I've been saying from there:

O God of grace and glory, we remember before you today our brother. We thank you for giving him to us to know and to love as a companion in our pilgrimage on earth. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us your aid, so we may see in death the gate to eternal life, that we may continue our course on earth in confidence until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before us; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.

The generations rise and pass away before you. You are the strength of those who labor; you are the rest of the blessed dead. We rejoice in the company of your saints. We remember all who have lived in faith, all who have peacefully died, and especially those most dear to us who rest in you. Give us in time our portion with those who have trusted in you and have striven to do your holy will. To your name, with the Church on earth and the Church in heaven, we ascribe all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, thy victory? The strife is o'er, the battle done. Love will come again like wheat arising green. The Lord bless and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious to him. The Lord look upon him with favor and grant him peace.

I'm not a Catholic, and was never really taught to pray for souls, but I think I get it a bit now. He was, though, and if that's something you do, I'm sure he would have welcomed that. (And if you know any good saints to throw in the mix, go for it.) My grandmother could also use your prayers.

Thank you for reading this, and holding for a moment the love I have for him. It's heavy right now, and easier to carry with others' prayers beside me. I am praying beside you as well, especially with the many people who have sent me asks that have gone unanswered for ages now. And God holds all of us, more than we could ever imagine. I don't claim to understand death, but I am in the palm of the universe's hand, and my granddad is too, reunited with all that left him in his sickness, and united with a God who knows death intimately. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, love to love.

<3 Johanna

#death mention

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she-walks-on-starlight · 9 months ago

Note

Can u write some fluff and comfort for grayson.

i would appreciate it <3

Of course! Thanks for the request - ✨

Duty Bound

a/n: added in some hurt/comfort and a slight touch of angst for this one, it's just how the story came to me :) my requests are still open, send me your ideas I'd love to hear them 😊

Warnings: almost break-up, arguments, feelings of neglect

Summary: Grayson has been busy with work, and you're starting to feel tired of coming in second. When you deliver an ultimatum, will it make or break your relationship?

Word Count: 2k

“I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on, y/n, and I want to spend my days and my nights making you happy. I will do anything you ask, will take you anywhere you wish to go as long as I can come with you. Just please say you’ll be mine, and nothing could possibly make me any happier.”

A beautiful memory.

You sighed as you packaged the baked macaroni cheese into Tupperware containers and labelled them before putting them in the fridge, yet another dinner you’d eaten alone.

Your cat, Whiskers, wound himself around your legs and staring reproachfully at you with his wide, green eyes. Rolling your eyes, you filled his feeding dish and put it on the floor for him, earning a grateful squeak. You scratch just behind his ears, when you hear the lock turn in the front door and the heavy thud of your girlfriend’s work boots as she finally arrived home.

“I’m home, beloved! Oh, do I smell cheese?”

She appeared in the kitchen archway, her Enforcer jacket slung casually over her shoulder and her pristine white shirt unbuttoned to just above her cleavage. You fix her with faux annoyed stare.

“You do smell cheese…I’ve just put your dinner in the fridge.”

Grayson huffs, running her hands through her messy, silver streaked locks. “I’m so sorry, my love. There was a situation in the Undercity that required my attention.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “I suppose I’ll have to let you off then, won’t I? Sit down, I’ll warm up your dinner.”

She obeyed, sitting at your small table as you warmed the macaroni cheese and started a spinach omelette for her lunch the next day. Grayson started unlacing her boots, lightly smacking your ass whenever you passed her because she knew it made you blush. Whiskers however soon realised she was home and pawed at her laces until she lavished him with attention. She looked tired, and you knew she must’ve had a very busy shift. It seemed with every week she was the Chief Enforcer more lines carved their way into her handsome face.

“I swear, more and more Shimmer is being pumped into the Undercity and we still haven’t got a single idea on how, or who is behind it all. Every factory I shut down, two more pop up to replace it! Not to mention how many Enforcers I’m losing to those Shimmer crazed thugs! I’ve had to inform three more wives of their husbands’ deaths today! Three!”

You kiss her cheek and run your hands through her hair, massaging the nape of her neck to help her relax. “I think you need a break, Gray.”

She groaned with pleasure at your ministrations but scoffed at your words. “If I take a break, I think the entire station will collapse.”

You tried to remain bright, placing her meal in front of her and grinning as she dug in eagerly. “Well…maybe we can do something this weekend? Maybe go to that little vegan café we both like?”

“Sorry my love, I can’t. I volunteered to lead a seminar on firearm maintenance on Saturday, and the Council wants me to make an appearance at the charity gala on Sunday.”

“Oh, a gala! That could be fun, it’s been a while since we’ve gone to one, I’ll have to see if I can dig out one of my old dresses…”

Grayson swallowed, eyeing you apologetically. “About that…I’m sorry. I’d like nothing more than to have you on my arm, but as I’m there to represent the Enforcers, it wouldn’t please the Council.”

You try to keep your breathing even, turning back to the stove and flipping the spinach omelette carefully.

“So, I’m not going to see you this weekend at all?”

You hear the scraping of her chair and close your eyes to prevent tears from falling as strong, broad arms wrap around you and the scent of her fresh, citrus cologne fills your nose as she kisses your cheek and your neck, her short curls tickling your face.

“Please don’t be too upset, my love. I have a duty to the people of Piltover.”

You sighed, your entire body filling with leaden disappointment. You were so sick of this. “And what about your duty to me?”

Grayson pulls away from you, her mouth agape. “What do you mean?”

Your hands ball into fists. “This apartment is haunted by you, Gray! I’m only graced with the presence of your shadow!”

“My love, I-”

“You’re always working, and when you’re not at work, then you’re at the gym! It’s like you have no time for me anymore! You’d always rather be doing something, anything else, than spend time with me, your girlfriend!”

Grayson crossed her arms. “That’s not true. My work is very important, beloved. I cannot simply drop everything to indulge in personal leisure.”

“But your work doesn’t have to take over your entire life, Gray.”

Grayson’s eyes were like liquid steel, sharp and cold. “My work IS my life. I have spent years, decades getting to where I am now! I thought you understood that.”

Your chest felt tight, your whole body felt stiff, and a prickling heat was coating your skin. This was a losing battle. Grayson was a woman of honour, a paragon of justice and was bound to her duty. Serving and protecting the people of Piltover was her lifeblood. That would never change, perhaps could never change.

“Then I think I should stay with my sister for a while.”

Before Grayson could reply, you turned on your heel and headed into the bedroom, burying yourself under the duvet and letting your salty tears burn into your face.

The next day had gone by in a blur. Grayson hadn’t been in the apartment when you’d woken up, so you assumed she’d gone into work early. Weary from working so late, but pleased you were able to complete the wedding cake on time for that lovely couple, you stabbed your key at the rusty lock in your apartment door until it finally clicked open and allowed you entry.

The apartment was dark and silent, but you expected that. Grayson was either at her office or she was hitting the gym. Again. The satisfied high from working at your small bakery was ebbing away, leeched from you by the depression radiating from the walls that had once surrounded you with love and warmth. You were too melancholy to cook, so you order chilli oil noodles from your favourite takeout place and trudged into the bedroom.

Opening the wardrobe, you were greeted with several Chief Enforcer uniforms, all starched and ironed to perfection, the belts and buckles gleaming proudly in the dim lighting of the bedroom. You carefully pushed them aside, not wanting to crease them and reached for your jumpers hanging beside them. As you folded them, you tried to ignore the sharp aching of your heart which only intensified when you pushed Grayson’s uniforms back into place on the rail.

You were pushing her out of your life.

You growled internally at the intrusive thought. Grayson had pushed you away first, now you were just letting yourself fall from the impact. If this is what Grayson wanted, then she would reap what she had sown.

On the bed lay your frayed duffel bag, beaten up from the many camping trips you and Grayson took. Used to take. It was open, the soft material hanging apart like a mocking, laughing mouth. However, as you approached it to put the jumpers inside, there was a folded piece of paper that wasn’t there when you’d left for work. As you opened it, you gasped as you recognised Grayson’s efficient scrawl.

Giovanni’s. 7pm. Wear the red dress. Please come.

Your eyes widened. Giovanni’s, a small Italian restaurant where you’d had your first dinner date with Grayson. The red dress she mentioned had been the one she’d slowly peeled you out of that evening, the first time she’d ever touched you like that. It had been the perfect night. Your heart fluttered at the implications of the note. Did she want to recreate that night? Or was this the final goodbye? Glancing the clock, you quickly put on the dress she requested and touched up your makeup before dashing out of the door and hailing a cab.

When you arrived, the waiter smiled knowingly and led you to the private terrace which was lit with candles and fairy lights. There was only a single table, by which Grayson stood wearing a crisp, black dress shirt, matching trousers, and a red paisley tie exactly the shade of your dress. She pulled out your chair for you as you sat, somewhat dazed, and kissed your knuckles before taking her seat opposite you.

Her eyes were serious, her forehead creased with stress. “I came home at lunchtime. I wanted to surprise you, to apologise for my recent behaviour…but I forgot today was one of your workdays. Just another way I’m failing you as a partner, I suppose.”

You reached for her, entwining your slender fingers with her larger ones, the warmth of her hand travelling up your arm and into your chest. “Gray…I-”

“I saw the bag.” Her voice was a whisper, the dreadful confession staining her lips with sadness. “I realised then, that you meant it when you said you were leaving. You were absolutely right. To have driven you to this, it’s unforgivable.”

You can feel your own heart swell at her words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you take in your forlorn lover, such a great, upstanding woman reduced to despair, her eyes pleading and so very remorseful.

“Gray, I do understand-”

Grayson silenced you with a gentle finger to your lips. “Please, my love, I need to tell you. You are the sun that wakes me at dawn, you are the stars that watch over me at night. You are the beat in my heart, the reason I thrive. I love you more than anything I have ever even comprehended. To neglect you this way, is the greatest pain I could have ever inflicted upon myself. You are why I work so hard, so make sure you will always be safe and never have anything to fear. But you were right, I let it consume me. It almost cost me everything I hold dear.”

It's everything you’ve needed to hear, and it takes every shred of your emotional self-control not to burst into relieved sobs. “Gray, I love you. Your sense of honour and your need to fulfil your duty are all part of you, and I love you even more for having these qualities. I just want to be able to share my life with you and know that you’ll always want to come home to me, see me, be with me.”

Grayson leaned forward, cupping your cheek. “I want for nothing more. My soul sings when I am with you, and you alone, beloved.”

Then she kisses you, and it’s just like the first time all those years ago. She cups your face with her warm hands and wipes away any tears falling, her soft lips caressing yours with care and reverence, the two of you pouring your deep love for each other into a kiss that’s been a long time coming. When you break apart, you’re sure you are blushing, and Grayson’s look of pure adoration warms you from the inside out. You eat a beautiful meal and as you stand from the table, Grayson ceremoniously gathers you in her arms, bridal style, making you squeal with surprise and delight.

“Hey! Gray! What are you doing?”

She nuzzles into your neck. “We are going home. I have a weekend of pampering to spoil you with.”

“But what about your weekend obligations?”

Grayson kisses you, tender and slow. “Marcus is leading the seminar on Saturday, and I’ve informed the Council that I will not attend the gala. They will likely not miss the Enforcer representation anyway. Now come, I have many plans for this evening and many of them involve much less clothing. Shall we?”

Sighing contentedly, you rest your head on her shoulder as she carries you away. “Let’s go home.”

#my writing #arcane #lesbian #fanfic #arcane fanfic #grayson x you #grayson x reader #fluff #comfort #hurt/comfort #anon ask #thanks anon!#anonymous #request #angst with a happy ending #light angst

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year ago

Note

we had a chef MC headcanon, now how about M6 when MC made them a meal but it tasted just downright horrible and MC is just kinda oblivious to it, asking M6 with the brightest, most innocent smile "Do you like it?"

i hope you have fun writing this if you do choose this humble request

- 🌼

The Arcana HCs: When MC is a terrible chef

~ this reminds me of the time when teenaged me combined old rice, hot dog chunks, cold broccoli, and buffalo sauce (in one bowl!) for a late-night snack. thank you for the giggles this gave me, yellow flower friend, let's hope I pay them forward! - brainrot ~

-- to set the scene --

Somehow it's been one of those weeks when everything in your food supply begins to reach its end or expiration date at the same time. You know your regular grocery shopping is tomorrow, and you have an extensive list prepared, but dinner is up to you tonight and you don't have anything comprehensive planned. It looks like it's time for your famous "everything but the kitchen sink" stew. You've only made this in the past when it was just you in the shop and you were still figuring out how to cook, but you remember it being fairly edible.

(Continued below the cut)

You get some beans boiling (there hasn't been time to soak them), add a cup or two of vinegar to soften them faster, dice the not-molded parts of a tomato and onion you found at the bottom of a sack, and rinse the slime off of some wilted greens before throwing them in. You're craving something spicy, so you dump in the rest of your chili sauce, but when the steam makes you tear up you scrape out the rest of the mayonnaise to even it out. It was starting to smell funky anyways. Your hand slips when you add the salt, so you pour in some honey to counteract it, and in a final burst of inspiration, you plop in two bananas that have gotten too mushy to eat. The signature suspicious scum of your original dish is just floating to the top of your soup when your beloved returns, hungry from a day of work.

Julian

Too happy to see you to notice the poison on the stove at first

The words die in his throat when he does. Tell him it's a potion. Tell him it's a curse. Tell him it's a prank. Don't tell him, don't tell him it's ... it's dinner, isn't it?

He watches you happily ladle a generous scoop of your curdled concoction into his bowl and gulps. He loves you. He's got this. He will eat your food, he will tell you it's delicious, or he will die trying

He's starting to get caught up in the poetry of it as he sits down across from you. Like a lamb to the slaughter, accepting the sweet taste of death from his beloved's cruel hand - stew isn't supposed to be sweet, oh god why is it sweet

But for his darling's delight, he will overcome -

"Julian, is everything alright? You look like you're about to go on stage."

"Oh, is ah - is that what I look like, my dear?" He's pale and sweating at this point, poorly disguising the tremble in his hand as he brings his second glass of water to his lips

"It's my stew, isn't it?" you dolefully lift a gelatinous spoonful and watch it fall back into your bowl with a sickening squelch. "I remember it tasting weird, but not this weird ..."

"No, no!" His voice cracks against his will as he sees your sadness as proof of his failure. "It's delightful, delicious - worthy of the gods, even." You hear him mumble a prayer for forgiveness under his breath and drop your spoon

"I know when you're acting, Julian."

"Ah, so I - so I am. You know -" he stands abruptly, his chair falling behind him in his haste. "I just remembered that Pasha invited us for dinner tonight. Shall we?"

He's never been so happy to see you walk out his front door

Asra

They can smell it as soon as they walk into the shop and are immediately concerned. That is the smell of death. Why is the smell of death in your shop oh no - "MC? MC, where are you?"

"I'm upstairs!" Thank the patrons, you're okay

Then again, maybe you're not, considering how perfectly comfortable you seem standing over whatever monstrosity is releasing toxic vapors into the atmosphere. Is that ... soup?

Color him intrigued. He's doing his best to hide a laugh and find a way to ask what enabled you to create something so terrifying out of simple kitchen ingredients without insulting you

"So, is this recipe an MC original?"

"Yep!" You smile at him cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the stomach-churning way that the chunks plop from the soup spoon into their bowl. "I always make this when we're running low."

"You've made this before?" They're starting to get concerned again

"Just a few times, when you were on a trip. Do you like it?"

He takes a bite, so intrigued by the way it seems to wriggle down his throat that he tries a second. "I've never had anything like it."

"What do you think of the mayonnaise? It smelled a little funky ..."

We have mayonnaise? They wonder, but on the outside they're still smiling. "It certainly adds to the experience. Is this ... banana?"

"Yeah, it seemed too mushy to eat on its own, so ..."

Asra sets down his miraculously empty bowl with a loving smile. "MC, you shouldn't have to do the cooking so often. Let me help out more often."

Nadia

She doesn't know how it's come to this. Nobody knows how it's come to this, when the Palace kitchen is kept fully stocked and there are chefs available at all hours

But you had said that you missed your home cooking, and she had given you full access to the backup kitchen to do as you pleased, and - ah, the only things kept in there are leftovers

That would explain the stench

Speaking of, her respect for your resilience has reached new heights. How you've been able to survive on your own is a mystery to her. Please tell her this isn't how you ate for three years -

But you seem as deathly serious as the radioactive sludge that's churning in her fine china like a lava lamp, and she realizes that this is going to be a labor of love. She must eat her fill and do so with elegance

You watch her bring the daintiest (read: tiniest) spoon of slime to her lips, pausing to test the aroma before setting her jaw and putting it in her mouth

Oh, look at that, she's already eaten her fill

"MC, my darling, what do you say to an evening walk? It seems I haven't the appetite to dine at this moment, how about a stroll around the palace gardens? The night is still young."

She's relieved at how easily you agree, deeply concerned by the fact that you've already finished half of your bowl, and eager to get you out of the palace so that the maids can make dinner disappear

She's going to lose sleep for the next three months about whether or not she should be honest about what happened to your soup

There's now a bald patch in the grass behind the kitchen that hasn't been able to grow anything in three years. There's a rumor that stepping on it will release a stench so foul that you won't be able to eat for twenty-four hours afterwards

Muriel

He's not too worried. He used to eat spoiled food out of the trash heaps all the time as a kid, he's sure he remembers how

But he's a little surprised that said rotting food is being actively cooked. By you. Seemingly in a choice made of your own free will

He wasn't expecting ... this, but a quick glance around the hut makes it clear to him that nothing terrible has happened, that you seem perfectly sane, and that you don't think anything's wrong

Well, you seem to trust your cooking, and he certainly trusts you, so ...

He side eyes Inanna's dramatic performance of whimpering and pawing at her nose, eventually turning to let her back out of the hut as you serve your bowls with a smile

He takes a glance at his serving as you dig in. Asra still talks about the time he ate a whole chili pepper without flinching - he can do this. He picks up his spoon, scoops up a jiggling chunk, and eats

You're a little surprised at how quickly his bowl disappears. You're not really enjoying your food yourself, but you're not going to judge his strange enthusiasm

"Muriel? If you're still hungry, there's more on the fire ..."

"I'm fine." He's getting out of his habit of depriving food of himself, but in this case, refusing to eat is a personal kindness

He drinks several glasses of water while you finish your dinner, asking you about your day and trying not to grimace at every silent burp that pulls the aftertaste back into his mouth

Inanna buries the rest after the two of you go to bed. Nobody knows how she managed it without opposable thumbs, but everything is possible for a wolf desperate to preserve her nose

Portia

Her brother might be an award-winning actor, but her flair for the dramatic only goes as far as silly little bits designed to make people laugh and pretending that she isn't about to punch somebody

She is a woman who knows her mind, her heart, her strength, and her limits. This is a limit, and she is doing her best to pass it

You can tell right away that she doesn't want to eat what you've made. You've never seen her smile look so uncomfortably tight, and you certainly didn't miss the way her stomach heaved when she leaned over the pot to take a closer look at your creation

But she's insistent on going through with your evening, even steering you towards the kitchen table and serving the bowls herself. She tries so very hard to mask the look of revulsion on her face when different chunks of stew jiggle at different frequencies

She places your bowls on the table and lifts her spoon, waiting for you to take the first bite in the hopes that your eyes will be opened and you'll insist on eating something else

No such luck. You're two spoonfuls in, so in the spirit of keeping an open mind, she loads up her utensil and shoves it in her mouth

You weren't expecting to be sprayed by the choke that seizes her, but sitting across from her puts you in the splatter zone and you're quick to give her your napkin and ask if she's okay

She nods weakly, looking slightly green. "MC," she says, "you are definitely stronger than I imagined." She takes another look at the gelatinous blobs on her table. "Stronger than you need to be."

She dusts off her hands and practically drags you out of the cottage. "Let's eat out tonight! My treat. And I just had the best idea for our next date night - we should take cooking lessons together!"

Lucio

He notices Mercedes and Melchior acting up on the way back to your campsite, but doesn't have any idea why until he gets a whiff and - oh, that is nasty

Some kind of skunk jacked up on magic must have done that, never fear, MC! He's here to save the day now - what do you mean that's dinner? That is not dinner. Dinner is not supposed to smell like that

He's not sparing a second to consider manners or acting. Lucio calls it like he sees it, and all he sees is poison

"MC, do we have to? It smells so bad, look at it MC, just loo - bleugh - no I'm not being dramatic! The smell made me gag for real, watch!"

And he leans over the pot again, just to take a deep lungful and subsequently let out the most visceral gagging belch you've ever witnessed

"See? It's bad, it's really bad, and I don't want to eat it! Why are you being so mean to me, MC?"

To be honest, you're not particularly excited to eat it either, but it's all you've got until you make it to the next town tomorrow, so you tell him as much as his pout slowly deepens

"Fine, I'll do it. I guess it can't be that bad if you made it -" He watches the way it slops into his bowl and gulps. "I take it back."

Sure it's a little spicier and clumpier and saltier and sickly sweeter than you planned, but you're able to stomach it just fine

And to your surprise, Lucio can too. He complains loudly the whole time, but his whining somehow grants him the ability to eat three full bowls

"See, you ate so much of it!"

"Well of course!" he puffs out his chest proudly. "I'm the best. At least it's not as bad as what we had in the army. But - MC?" he looks at you with pleading eyes, "please don't make that again."

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana shitpost #the arcana crack #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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spacebarbarianweird · 11 months ago

Text

The Rogue and The Barbarian

Summary: Six months after the game, Astarions asks Tiriel why she's stayed with him.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, post-game, patch 5 epilogue, named Tav, established relationship, f!tav

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

This line from the epilogue really got me so I decided to write the confession scene featuring my beloved OC Tav named Tiriel.

One night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Thanks @satanicspinosaurus for the amazing work as a beta-reader. Your comments and suggestions were super helpful.

Tiriel is a half-elf Barbarian with Chaotic Good allignment. More about her here

Steam rises over a small pond at the back of the cave, and it almost looks as good as a hot bath in the inn. The warm spring nicely heats the air, contrasting to the cold nights Astarion and Tiriel have faced for the last few months.

Six months, to be precise.

Astarion cautiously approaches the pond. The murky surface can’t reflect anyone, and the vampire touches the water.

"Go on, I'll join you!" Tiriel says, and her voice echoes in the cave.

"Don't make me wait too long, then," he answers.

Six months ago, the tadpole which allowed him to walk in the sun dissapeared. Six months ago, the insane adventure he had found himself in was over. Six months ago, he murdered the monster who had made him a vampire.

Six months ago, he became free.

Astarion undresses, laying his clothes beside the pool. The clothes are dirty with blood, and so is he.

Being naked feels weird and uneasy. The sense of vulnerability returns as he sits at the pond's edge, submerging his legs in warm water.

It would be naïve to believe his demons and darkness would disappear after the monster's death. That the gnawing void in his chest would somehow miraculously heal in one day. His darkness lingers in his mind daily, devouring thoughts and sanity. The only thing he can do is fight.

Astarion takes a piece of cloth and starts washing dirt off his skin. If only it was possible to wash away all the non-consensual touches he'd endured over years. To forget, to peel it off.

If only…

A soft thump takes Astarion out of his thoughts, and he sees a pile of clothes getting bigger – adding Tiriel's trousers and shirt under her armor.

Tiriel stays at the edge beside him for a heartbeat and then jumps into the water, splashing Astarion with a warm wave.

"Finally!" the half-elf says, returning to the surface and sitting at the pond's edge.

Astarion can't take his eyes away from Tiriel. Hair, red as fire. Her right eye is greyish blue, like the autumn sky. The other used to be green as spring before the hag had transformed it.

Freckles dance all over her body, especially plenty on her back. Half-elven ears with a thin scar on one of them. Breasts, small and perky. A bigger bottom. "Elven tits but human butt!" she once told him after receiving yet another playful slap from him. Hands so elegant and feminine, elven-like. Legs more human-like, thick, and strong.

She is stuck between two worlds and takes the best from both.

Tiriel the Barbarian is a woman of no kin and no home.

"Need help?" she asks.

"I am pretty capable of washing myself."

"I know, but do you need help?"

"Yes, please."

Tyrael smiles and kneels behind him with a piece of rag.

"Tell me if it hurts".

He nods. Somehow, being both naked doesn't have anything sexual. It is something else, some new level of intimacy. Tiriel lovingly washes his body, and her touches are gentle and caring. Occasionally, she plants a kiss, and a shiver goes down his spine.

Astarion relaxes, closing his eyes like a content cat. His world reduces to the sound of dripping water and Tiriel's humming.

The song sounds unfamiliar. Sometimes, Astarion thinks he's already heard all the songs and ballads Tiriel knows. Still, every other evening, she chooses another. Sometimes, he thinks she composes them, but she laughs at the suggestion.

Astarion, my heart, do I look like a bard to you? It's just how humans tell their stories.

Astarion concentrates on Tiriel's voice and her gentle caress. She starts washing his hair, massaging the scalp with long, stiff fingers.

"I never heard this song."

“It’s a ballad of half-elves. A human woman falls in love with an elf. She offers him gifts – a heavy sword made of iron, sleeping potions to make him dream, a fur cape to warm him in the coldest winter, a stallion fast as the wind. And he just mocks her. Because human lives are short and their ways are animalistic. But it seems the mocking is dishonest, since half-elves are born anyway."

Astarion catches her arm and presses lips against Tiriel's wrist. She giggles and nuzzles his neck.

"Which would you take if someone offered you such gifts?"

"Difficult choice," Astarion chuckles. "I don't think I could pick up the sword; horses fear me. The cape sounds nice."

"The cape enchanted with fire magic - that has its own warmth," Tiriel sings.

"Then definitely the cape."

She laughs. "I would have taken the sword."

"Who would ever doubt that, my ferocious love?"

Tiriel hugs Astarion from behind, placing her cheek on the upper part of his scars. Her grip is tight, as if she tries not to let him fall.

Astarion places a palm over her hands. Tiriel is so warm. He doesn't want to let her go. If, a mere year ago, someone told him that this would be his life very soon enough-he would bitterly laugh at their faces.

Freedom? A monster dying a painful death? Tiriel? Those things were unreal.

Tiriel finally lets him go and returns to washing herself.

"Tiriel"

She looks up at him. Her eyes were so close he could see the green iris behind the foggy hag eye.

"What is it?"

"Why do you stay?"

She pulls back a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"I – I don't understand why you are with me. You could choose any man but chose me. Why?"

Tiriel is silent and Astarion fears he has hurt her. There is an instinct to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. He shouldn’t have asked.

She sighs. "Apart from the fact you are the most beautiful and handsome man I ever met in my life?"

"Six months ago, I would have thought that was enough."

Tiriel takes his hand. "Look at me, please."

Her smile shines like the summer sun. "You want to know why I am with you? Because you sometimes think that I am with you either for pity or just because of your looks?"

He nods.

"I love you for being brave. For being strong. All these decades of torments and you preserved yourself. You survived where madness was the only choice. You never allowed to break yourself. What can be more heroic? Every day you fight the darkness in your soul – and win. It is an invisible fight but, gods, it's more formidable than fighting dragons and monsters. I can see it. I see it daily, and I admire you for that. Because accepting darkness is easy."

She touches a loose strand of silver hair and kisses his cheek. "I love you for being so smart and good with words. I can't even read – and you know so many things I didn't even know existed! You open a new world for me, every day!"

"You know I can teach you how to read?"

"My eyes hurt when these letters jump on the page."

"Unless the book is enchanted, they are not supposed to."

Tiriel cups his cheek and plants a kiss on his forehead.

"You care about me. You protect me. No one ever did! I am this wild warrior girl who can kill a giant with one swift of her sword. Who can be beaten to death and then stands up with bones broken and wounds bleeding and shrugs it all away. No matter how in pain I was, no one ever asked me how I felt. No one cared. Do you know why people like me drink ale all the time, especially celebrating victories? Because we're in pain. But we can't show it, it's a weakness. And we can't be weak."

Tiriel suddenly turns her eyes away, and Astarion sees a glimpse of pain as if she re-lives those moments. He pictures a wounded woman who drinks herself to numbness while people cheer her for slaying a monster. Then a bleeding half-elf curled up in the tent, hollow and miserable.

"But you – you care. When I don't rage anymore, when I feel the pain and exhaustion again, I don't have to think how to get back to camp and make sure my companions don't steal my part of the loot. I can just fall into your arms and let you take care of the rest. Washing me, helping to undress. You help me with my flesh wounds and broken bones. You wait till I recover – and don't let me risk myself."

"It would be cruel to let you return to the fight with internal bleeding."

"Aastarion, that's the point. I've never had anyone who would do that to me. I never knew I could sleep so worriless. My heart, you are safety. You are protection. You let me hide behind your back. No one ever did. Because if someone with a two-handed sword joins your party, she is supposed to protect you. Sometimes I would vomit blood after the fight and people would surround a delicate looking maiden-sorceress who was just shocked by seeing so much blood and gore. I was always the last one to get the potion or healing. I am Tiriel the Barbarian, after all. No one would check up on me, no one would look after me. But you – you do that. Astarion, you can't even apprehend how much love there is inside you. And how much I need it."

Astarion finally makes himself move and pulls Tiriel closer. She wraps her hands around his neck.

"You remind me of a fairytale I loved as a girl. When I was beaten by my mother and when my stepfather called me a "fairy bastard," I would run to the village healer and listen to his wife telling fairy tales. There was one which always caught my attention.”

"A long time ago there was a warrior woman whose ancestors were giants. She was fierce and strong. One day she got a mission – to kill a monster. She realized the monster was indeed an enchanted prince. She broke his chains and they married. I always pictured this prince as an elf in my head. Like, he was described as someone very beautiful. It couldn't be a human! Human males are ugly. Or maybe it was my own desperate hope my elven father would come back and take me with him".

"And what is more important, you understand me. You laugh at my stupid jokes. You know how to make me feel better. I love talking to you. I never thought I would find someone I would be so comfortable with. Yes, I fell for your looks. For your sweet words. You made me feel wanted, desired. Everything I thought I wasn't. I knew you were manipulating me; it was easy to understand. But I felt good when you dragged me to the woods. I am going to live for fifteen or twenty decades more and I want to live these years with you. I don't want and don't need anyone else."

Astarion stares at Tiriel as if seeing her for the first time. As if they hadn't shared a bed for half a year. It was like she was talking about someone else. Someone he doesn't even know. How come… how come he has her? What a weird coincidence made them meet? Maybe some god was responsible after all. Heard his prayers and made that unknown elf hook up with a married human woman thirty-six years ago.

A married human woman who hated the little girl she gave birth to. Who abused Tiriel and beat her for her mere existence.

"My stepfather once lusted for me and he suppressed his desires with violence. He snatched a knife and cut my left ear off. The healer stitched it back but I have a scar left."

The girl grew up. Survived. Made her way to Baldur's Gate.

Tiriel, with her absolute lack of self-control or respect for anyone, solved most of the problems threatening to break people's bones.

"He told you "No!", I will smash your head against the wall if you don't leave him alone, you drow bitch!"

His very own knight in shining armor. Well, barbarian rags rather than actual armor, but Astarion is also far from an innocent prince.

Tiriel puts her head on his chest as if trying to hear his undead heart. They both don't move, holding each other in silence. Astarion wants to say a thousand words. How much he loves her. How she makes his undead heart ache. How he adores her – with her dark humor, easygoing nature, and bravery.

But he can't. The words are stuck in his throat; meanwhile, Tiriel keeps humming. A song of the north, of the wilderness. There is wind and cold, battles and blood. The smell of burning wood. The rage. The sorrow. And dragons.

Tiriel, the unwanted daughter of the barbarian kin, holds Astarion, and he drowns in her arms. Safety, protection, freedom, love. Such simple concepts and yet so unknown.

He doesn't want to let her go. He won't let her go unless she wants.

"Ok I am freezing and want to sleep. I will be in the tent," She pulls away, shivering. "How do you say "my love" in Sylvan?"

"Salen Aster," Astarion answers, and the words sound like a spell.

"Then see you later, Salen Aester."

He chuckles – Tiriel pronounces the words clumsily with a terrible Common accent.

"Have a good rest, my love."

Being alone is uncomfortable. So he quickly puts on clean clothes, leaving the dirty pile for the latter, and returns to the small camp they had put up. Tiriel is already under the fur blanket but knows she hasn't fallen asleep yet. She never goes to sleep without him. So while she rests, Astarion stays beside guarding her or meditating himself.

Astarion crawls beside her, and she immediately wraps herself around him, placing her redhead on his chest, sharing body warmth.

Astarion concentrates on the heartbeat. He can feel blood streaming around her body. Her short breaths. Tiriel is so alive it's enough for two of them.

"Tiriel"

"Hm?" she looks up at him, her eyes already sleepy.

"These six months we've been together are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery I endured. My worst memory lasted longer than I know you but somehow… somehow it holds the same gravity as those years of darkness. I don't even know how this is possible."

She smiles and caresses his cheek.

"Rage is louder than tears, fire is brighter than shadows. Rags are cheap but fur is paid with gold."

It seems like she wants to say something else, but she falls asleep in his arms. Astarion looks at her with adoration, trying to memorize every small detail of her face.

"Salen Aester", he whispers in her ear.

Tag List

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

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bunnyboowrites · 1 year ago

Text

My Last Wishes (Zoro x Black!Reader)

Summary ~ you’ve known forever of your early grave, and it’s come time for you to inform your crew-mates of the truth about your fate. None of them are happy, especially the one-eyed swordsman.

Warnings - Zoro x Fem!reader, implied POC!reader but not outright, Angst, Smut, M and F smut, oral (F receiving), p in v smut, Loss of virginity, +18 only pls, Zoro is a bit ooc, Bad Writing as Usual!

(Y/n) had been acting strange around her crew lately, her normal bubbly moods seemed to be dampened and no matter what anyone did she wasn’t the same. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper goofing off to make her laugh? She’d just give a weak smile and walk away. Franky doing cool tricks? A small thumbs up. Brooks songs, Robin's talks about history, Nami’s fashion show, and Sanji’s cooking. Nothing seemed to make her feel better, the extreme fell upon them when Zoro stepped in.

He walked over to her lawn chair on the deck, he glanced around awkwardly and put his hands on his swords “You can touch my earrings now, you know since you asked before..” he felt his skin heat up, he also felt the whole crew watching on as they pretended to be occupied by other things. For the first time in what had felt like months she gave the biggest smile while the green haired man sat down on the chair, pushing her legs out of his way. The crew sighed a breath of relief as they saw the girl reach for Zoro’s golden jewelry.

He coughed and muttered “so what’s got you so bothered? everyone’s noticed and they’re all worried about you.” She looked at him puzzled by the question before a guilty look crossed her face for a quick second. “You’re not worried though?” She asked trying to brush it off as a joke, but he wasn’t buying it. “You usually love that pervy cook’s dessert when you have tea with Robin but you gave it to Luffy.” He huffed and looked at the ground “so I was sort of worried” she sighed and racked her brain on what would be the best way to go about it, explaining to these people she considered her new family that she’d been cursed since before she was ever born. “I’ll let everyone know at dinner, thank you for worrying about me Zoro”

Sanji called everyone to the kitchen when dinner was ready, everyone rushed to be seated finally ready to understand what was hurting their dear friend. She was seated between Nami and Zoro, and she held a stack of envelopes “mailing something?” Brook questioned. She simply shook her head and handed each of them their own personalized envelope. “I’m sorry I made you guys upset” she started, head hanging low her curls covering her usually joyful eyes that were now full of tears. “But I have no clue how to tell you guys”

“No worries (Y/n) you can tell us anything” Luffy exclaimed while grabbing some bread off of her plate. She started to shake with a sob, and now everyone was giving their full attention to her. “I-I have only a couple months left to live” she whispered, she was surprised by the unusual silence of the situation “way before I was even born my family had been cursed, the women in our family were said to contract a deadly disease that had no side affects just death” she wipes away tears that are clouding her vision.

Everyone was frozen, unable to speak or even breathe. Sanji was the first to act “Don’t worry my beloved (Y/n)-San I’ll do anything to help you” his comment was followed by echos of agreement “What are you saying, you can’t leave us like this” Luffy yelled “We need you, without you how are we ever supposed to find our dreams?” She’d never think that Luffy would act this way. But then again how could he not, he’d already lost his brother and he didn’t need any more of his family ripped away.

Chopper hopped into the girls lap “if it’s a disease I promise I’ll cure you, I’ll do everything in my power to help you! What’s good is being the cure for all diseases if I couldn’t save my friend?” he cried, she stroked his back as he hugged her. Glancing around the table she looked drained, fatigued beyond recognition and Robin just hummed “How long have you known this?” she said and Nami nodded her head “ever since I was a little girl I knew misfortune was real and that it was coming for me” she paused and turned her head up towards the ceiling and chuckled “but when we docked on the last island I went to see a doctor and they told me my diagnosis”

Zoro sat with his arms crossed and closed his eye, seeing his crew with so much emotion it made him feel like he was powerless. Everyone was shedding tears hearing this news. He had a question that he wanted answered “Were you just gonna hide it from us until we woke up to find you dead?” Nami turned to him with a concerned look “Zoro?!? Are you crazy, this must have been eating her alive and you’re being too harsh” He huffed “(Y/n) should’ve told us, that’s something that could’ve happened any day since the day she was born but kept it a secret from people she was supposed love and care for, I’m upset so sorry if I’m being harsh” he picked up the rest of his booze and stormed out almost knocking the door off it’s hinges on the way out.

She finished saying her apologies to her family, the hardest thing she ever felt she had to do. “Those envelopes are my last wishes for each of you, I want them to be opened after I’m gone… for when you miss me most” She picks Zoro’s envelope up and sighs “I have to go give this to the hothead” she laughed in a breathy sigh. She walked out of the kitchen to start her search for the swordsman. She checked the men's quarters first and found the room empty and he was nowhere to be found on the deck so her best guess was the crow's nest.

She finally made it to the top and saw him, her heart started to beat a little faster at seeing him. He was shirtless and he was lifting a dumbbell sweat beaded at his forehead and some trickled down his face and neck and down between his defined pecs "Zoro I came to check if you were okay" She moved closer to the man before he gave a grunt "I'm fine sweetheart, but you just did something knowing you had a way out while we get stuck picking up the pieces" She felt the agitation build in her body "You think I like this Zoro? this is my home you guys were the escape from my stupid curse and now it's coming to an end" she pushed his chest he just silently stared as tears began to roll down her face "I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I couldn't have come out and said it when I met you guys id be standing in the way of everyone's dreams because everyone would be trying to find a cure to something I've had forever." she felt her whole body shake as she sobbed. Zoro thought her cries were painful to look at, he couldn't stand not being able to help her.

"I won't be able to have a boyfriend, experience sex or kissing sure but that's for the better because I'd rather have my friends and our adventures" She buried her face into his chest and he sighed and slowly wrapped his arms around her "you havent been with anyone?" He asked as she realized she told her crush that she was a virgin. She felt the embarrassment warming her "i- don't worry about that, you're an insensitive jerk Roanoa Zoro. do you know that?" He couldn't help himself but think about doing those things with her, giving her everything she deserved and more. she wouldn't want a brute like him anyway, he was sure she liked men more like that swirly cook.

Zoro would never admit it but he tried to take care of himself better to please her, weekly baths became every two days he even bought himself cologne on an island they docked at. All of this to impress the girl clinging to him and sniffling in his arms her soft curls and plush body attracting him to her, always making sure she was never alone even if he was napping. He would never admit but he wanted her to fight to stay alive to stay with them, to stay with him. he would sacrifice any and everything for the girl in his arms.

She finally looked him in the eye, her lip trembling and her eyes still full of tears "I brought your envelope, I need you to wait until I'm dead to read it though" her voice was barely a whisper. He scoffed "I don't want that stupid letter I want you to stay with me" he caught his mistake. She felt her heart skip a beat at his words. He wanted her to stay with him? had he felt the same all this time? feeling bold she firmly said "I love you" She sighed "Not like I love everyone else, I dream of you-" She cups his face "I pray in the night, the heavens know whose name I whisper when I sin" Her eyes flutter down to his lips and she pauses.

"(Y/n) I will sacrifice everything for you, we can find a way to fix whatever is wrong with you I promise it," he said feeling his body react in ways he thought would only happen when he thought about her perfect body underneath him. she smiled as she leaned in pressing her plush lips against his, her lips were soft but she was kissing him so softly he needed more after longing for her after so long. after she pulled away for her breath he impatiently pulled her back in for a more this time slipping his tongue into her mouth.

after their kiss she was trying to catch her breath, their mouths connected by the thin line of spit from both of their lips. "That was so much better than what if imagined" she whispered, her core warming in the oh-so-familiar way. he grabbed her hair and tilted her to look at his face "Let me grant those wishes for you, I wanna be everything for you, just like you are for me" his voice was so smooth and he was running his other hand down her neck and over her cleavage. she shivered at his touch and he smirked at her. "do you want this sweetheart? for me to be with you in a way no one else will be able to be?" she nodded with bated breath.

He licked her neck and took a long breath, inhaling her scent it was sweet with something else he couldn't make out. "you're made for me, I need you now" he groaned. She whimpered as he grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head exposing her to the chilly air of the room. He laid the dress down on the floor using his shirt as a cushion for her head. He caught her lips in another intense kiss their tongues dancing, he ran his hands all over her body cupping her pretty ass and giving it a slap. "Lay on the dress for me baby," he said, his husky tone doing wonders for her wet little pussy.

She laid on the dress and was feeling slightly embarrassed, she was so scared he was just a figment of her imagination. She covered her body unsure of how she would look to him knowing that during his pirate hunter days, he saw many women. He was having none of it though grabbing her hand and placing it on his massive print through his pants. "you do too many things to me for you to be embarrassed sweetie" she whimpered feeling his large dick, there was no way she could take that. she would try her best to please him though. "Zoro please, let me taste you" she moaned. he wore a grin on his face he was delighted that she wanted him so desperately but he had other plans. He hooked his fingers in her underwear, waiting for her permission to continue.

"I've got something even better for you doll" She let out a small whimper as her breathing picked up. His face was so close to her core, she could practically feel him breathing on her wet slit. The first lick of his tongue felt intense, something she couldn't put into words "Zoro-" the moan left her with a jolt, his cock twitched hearing her moan his name. it was filthy on her sweet lips. "oh so fucking good for me, I gotta get you ready for my cock baby" he dove back into her pussy groaning at her taste. She was his salvation, her body sculpted perfectly. everything he loved on his tongue as he flicked her clit with his tongue while slowly sliding a finger into her entrance.

His name was falling from her mouth like a sick prayer, she was getting so close to the peak and he needed her to fall over the edge just for him. "Ungh, I think I'm gonna cum Zoro, just like that oh-" he smirked as he used his fingers to hit the spongey spot in her sweet little cunt. She couldn't hold out any longer and she felt her body snap with the arrival of her orgasm. the buzzing feeling still fresh on her mind, devouring her senses as Zoro pulled his pants and boxers off.

She watched as he stripped, squeezing her thighs for some relief "Are you sure I can't return the favor?" she asked with a certain breathlessness to her voice. "no I need that fucking pussy around me or I might lose my mind" he groaned desperately, his head rubbing through her folds wetting him thoroughly. His head caught her entrance and he slowly bullied his way into her tight little cunt, "I'm gonna be gentle for you, but fuck you are not making this easy on me (Y/n)" he moaned into her neck.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he began slowly bucking his hips, the burning sensation turning into intense pleasure. it was like static was running through her. through her whole body even her toes. her moans were getting more loud and intense with every passing thing he said into her ear "Oh fuck baby, you're fucking mine forever." "This pussy is only mine by the time I'm done with this virgin pussy it'll only remember me" "I fucking love you, every day I find a new reason to love you" he sped his thrust up when he could tell how fucked out you were. "oh god I lov- Zoro I love you too" he felt a shiver at her confession his balls tightened . "say you'll never leave, tell me you'll fight to stay" "ill stay with you 'ro" she was pretty sure she was screeching now her impending orgasm sneaking up on her. He let out a loud groan and reached down to play with her clit, everything mixing together being the catalyst to her falling apart. squirting all over him moaning for him begging him to fill her up with his cum. "you're so good and fucking perfect" he moaned as his balls emptied, his cock being milked by her perfect cunt.

they were left coming down from their highs while the heaviness of their situation returned. She panted as the dull aching pain came back "Did you really want me to fight for you?" she questioned. She heard him grunt in agreement and she felt herself reach a determined state of mind "I'll do anything to see everyone's dreams come true. My new dream is to stay alive to go on so many adventures with my friends and my love" he nodded and kissed her neck "I love you Zoro" she whispered as he sighed content and tired "yeah yeah let's just get some rest." he muttered, breathing in the night air with a newfound sense of purpose for the both of them.

;0 I actually wrote smut, it was pretty hard so I’ll keep practicing. Bye bye for now

#black!reader #x reader #black y/n #black reader #black reader insert #black writers #poc reader #Roanoa Zoro x Black!Reader #zoro x you #zoro x black reader #one piece zoro #zoro smut #zoro angst #ronoroa zoro #straw hat pirates #pirate hunter zoro #had to write this idea down before it was lost to my manic mind

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