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toms-cherry-trees · 10 months

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Safe In Your Arms || Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary: There is only one person whom the Prince can find comfort with

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, lactation kink, mommy kink, p in v sex, handjob, edging and denial (m receiving), overstimulation (m receiving), implications that Aegon was beaten as a child, Aegon being a sad little meow meow, minor character death,

Author’s Note: First time writing Aegon y'all!. But this idea had taken root in my brain and had to be delivered. Thank for to my lovely honorary wifey @aemondsbabe for brainstorming with me and giving me the seal of approval at an ungodly hour. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @fairysluna

The embrace catches you by surprise, a pair of strong arms circling your waist and a nose nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin. A large hand cups the round weight of your breast, clumsy fingers unsuccessfully trying to undo the buttons of your servant’s dress. The other lays flat against your belly, pushing your body flush against the prince standing behind you. You try to halt his movements, eyes darting around the nursery to ensure your privacy, even though you knew the children have gone out to the Godswood with the Queen and Princess Helaena. Still, you need to make sure no prying eyes will come across you two. You will not be the first servant the prince laid with, nor the last, but gossip would spread nonetheless if Aegon is found being so amorous with his children’s wetnurse.

He has already opened the first two buttons when you decide to stop him, gentle but firm fingers holding his own and pressing his hand against your heart. A small groan of discontent escapes his lips, and you can picture the scowl in his face without looking at him. He complies and abandons his efforts, but doesn't let go of your body, keeping you caged on a grip tighter than usual. You two linger like that for a few moments, surrounded by a comfortable silence. You could stay like that, but you know that something particularly bad has to occur for him to seek you during the day and with such desperation.

“My Prince?” You try to crane your neck to lay eyes on him, but he only groans again and buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your flesh. You feel dampness on your skin, like tears dropping slowly from his lashes.

With a bit of struggle you turn around, still trapped in his arms. You try to make him look up but he refuses, hidden into you like a cranky child. Over time you have learned how to read him, as easily as an open book laid out before your eyes. He has his way with words to brazenly flirt, jest and argue, but never to express his feelings, especially when they overwhelm him. He just tries to show with actions what his mouth refuses to say.

Tenderly, like you would do to one of the children in your care, you force him to look up and meet your gaze. Red rims his eyes, violet pupils glossed over with unshed tears, the imprint of a slap still fresh and inflamed upon his cheek. You need not ask to know he has once more been caught in an altercation with his grandsire and mother, one in which he stood no chance. He never has a chance against them and the great plans they have for him, plans in which he has no say nor desire.

“Go to your bedchamber” You murmur quietly, two fingers pressing against his lips to stifle the protest that has already formed “I will be there shortly.”

Begrudgingly he drops his arms, quietly exiting the nursery, shoulders slumped and gaze downcast. You quickly finish your current duties, instructing another maid to cover for you as you make way to his chambers as discreetly as possible, excuses ready upon your lips should someone question your presence away from the children. But no one looks at you twice amidst the hustle and bustle of the Keep, and you find his door unguarded and unlocked.

Aegon has already thrashed the bed in a fit of anger, the blankets scattered around it while he lays under a sheet, still fully dressed and shoes still on. He clings to a pillow like a child to a beloved toy, although by the way he does it, so tight his hands touch his own arms, you think he is trying to actually hug himself, give himself some of the love he rarely got. You sit by his side, a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. He takes your hand, fingers tight around your wrist as he brings it up to his face, pressing your soft palm to his reddened cheek. He closes his eyes, and you notice yet more tears beading on his lashes, and the characteristic wobble of his lower lip.

“Let’s get you comfortable, yes?” Soft tone and gentle words, a speech used many times before with him. You have been there a plethora of times with him drunk, hungover, crying, covered in spilled wine and his own waste. And time after time you have cleaned him, changed his clothes and dried his tears. You have snuck his soiled sheets and clothes to the laundresses, since you know his maids report his every word and action back to his mother, and you want nothing more than to spare him to the best of your abilities from his elders’ wrath.

Some nights he clings to your body desperately, his fingers digging on your hips as he begs you to stay. And you comply, unwilling to pile more sorrow on him and incapable of denying anything to those wide, sad eyes.

He doesn’t say word, but you don’t need any to heed his call for help. You undress him easily, unbuttoning his doublet and undoing the laces of his breeches, leaving his clothes carefully folded on a nearby chair, the boots neatly by the side. When he remains in only his linen shirt and smallclothes, you put the bed together around him, tucking the sheets and smoothing the blankets as you quietly sing a lullaby, the same you use to put his twins to bed every night. It has the same calming effect on him as it had on them; the soothing of your voice halting his tears and making him relax his posture as he lets himself be cared for and pampered by your tenderness.

Once he has settled comfortably, you lay by his side. Aegon immediately scoots closer to you, his head burrowed against your bosom and one arm draping around your waist. You trace his swelling cheekbone with featherlight touch. Whoever has slapped him has put quite a lot of anger into it, most likely his grandsire. It is not the first time things have gotten physical between them, and most certainly not the last. It seems the Hand thinks he can beat his grandson into the Prince he wants him to be.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Aegon often chooses to seek comfort and just push his problems to the back of his mind, but you still encourage him to voice his woes. More often than not he prefers to remain silent, but you always offer him the space to speak freely and without consequences should he want to. To know he won’t be judged or chastised, and he will only be met with the tenderness he deserves.

Long seconds linger in absolute silence before his voice breaks through, weak and constricted “They have found me a bride”

You only nod, not needing to ask more. Ever since Aegon’s first wife had passed, scarcely 3 nights after the birth of their twins, his grandsire and mother had pushed him to pursue another wife, a lady from a strong House to garner their support when the time came. Originally his mother had wanted him to marry Helaena, to strengthen his claim to the throne, but then the King intervened. The only time he put his foot down instead of letting his council rule on his behalf, and he did it to betroth Aegon to a branched out lady of House Velaryon, while promising Helaena to Aemond. While the siblings’ marriage flourished, Aegon found himself tied before the Gods to a woman he couldn’t love, to the extent it took 6 years for them to conceive, and she only lived enough to name them.

At your silence, Aegon clings tighter to your body, his freshly blossoming tears dampening the front of your dress “I don’t want to, they can’t make me” His sniffs, and you notice him pressing his lips tightly together to force himself to be quiet.

You shush him, smoothing back his damp hair “You have to, sweetling. You are a Prince, and you have duties to your mother and family” Your words make him tense again, fisting your dress as he exhales loudly through his nose.

“I have no duties, I am not the heir, I am just a failure they are stuck with. I’ve done everything they wanted of me, and still my mother won’t ever look at me with pride” Another conversation had one and a thousand times. As the firstborn male, all eyes turned to him when the King’s health began to fail, and even though he still lingers, he hangs only by a very fine thread. And the Hand has everything prepared to land the crown upon his own bloodline, whether his grandson wants to or not. And he most certainly doesn’t want to.

You don’t argue, knowing that any attempt of contradicting him would only circle you back to the same arguments. You only let him speak, let it all escape his chest. But he has few words that day. There’s not much to say that has not been said already.

“Father never loved me. Grandsire only sees me as something at his disposal to use at convenience. Mother does not love me any more than what she is obliged to” His eyes meet yours, wide and adorable and terribly sad “I only have you. Just you. If they make me marry I won’t let you go. You cannot abandon me” His words carry an urgency and fear you hadn’t heard on him before. A deeply rooted terror of losing the only person who has not touched him with violence

You press tender kisses to his forehead, your touch gentle and warm “You will always have me, sweet boy. To the end of times. If they send you to the end of the world, I will be right behind you, taking care of you. If they put you on the throne, I will be at your feet as your most loyal servant”

Those reassuring words coax a smile out of him, a smile only meant for you. It is not often these days that Aegon is seen smiling, only in rare instances when he is with his children or with Sunfyre. All the others are reserved just for you.

Another comfortable silence lingers between you two, eyes locked with one another as your fingers card through his blonde tresses, his breath becoming a little sharper every time you accidentally tug on a knot. His hands snake up your front, stopping just in the curve of your breasts as he waits for your permission. You easily undo the very first button, allowing him the pleasure of doing the rest.

It takes him no time to have the front fully unbuttoned, pushing the fabric away to reach the object of his desire. The dazzled look he gets on his face whenever he stares at your bare breasts never fails to amuse you, as if he is staring at the most wonderful thing the world has to offer. His lips quickly find home around your perked nipple, releasing a satisfied sigh as he suckles at your milk, his hand cupping the free breast and massaging it lovingly, swiping his thumb over the hardened peak. You let out a content sigh, settling comfortably on the pillows as you watch Aegon nurse enthusiastically, barely stopping to breathe.

It had been after one of his many nights out that he first found comfort that particular way. Smelling of cheap perfume, even cheaper spirits and covered in vile things you didn’t wish to identify he had returned, and once more you had been by his side, putting his broken pieces back together and trying to not let his cracks be seen by the world the next morning. His hands had roamed your body, as they often did, a touch you glady allowed; he had never once done one thing you didn’t let him do, not even while being so deep in his cups he couldn’t say his own name. He had rested his face against your bare chest, inhaling deeply the musk of your skin while he toyed absently with your breast. A sharp pinch to your nipple had coaxed out some droplets of milk, which he collected on his thumb and brought to his lips. He repeated the process several times before crossing eyes with you, searching your face for any sign of rejection, but you only smiled and helped him get comfortable in your lap as he latched onto your breast for the first time. Nothing could quite calm him like that afterwards.

The prince at your breast lets out small sounds of satisfaction and content sighs as he grips your flesh tenderly, massaging it to coax more of the rich liquid to come down. At first you think he is relaxing and perhaps close to falling asleep, but then you notice his free hand down his body, palming his erection over the sheet. His teeth graze the engorged bud of your nipple ever so delicately, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, accompanied by a growing dampness between your thighs. You rub them together discreetly, seeking some form of friction as you continue to watch Aegon clumsily touch himself, trying to balance his need for pleasure with the attention he is lavishing upon your tits.

His whines take a desperate edge while he humps his own hand, his movements faltering since he doesn't know where to focus. Instinctively your hand moves slowly down his torso and under the sheets; you gently push his away and wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few tentative pumps.

“Do you want Mommy to take care of this?”

Both of you stop for a moment, eyes wide, and he even drops your breast in shock. He had very occasionally called you ‘mommy’, mostly ironically when you had ordered him around, or more intimately when you did certain things like tug on his hair or grip him a bit tighter. But you had never used the term that way, and by the way his cock throbs in your hand, the idea excites him as much as it does you. You give him a firm squeeze, making him jump on the bed

“I asked you something, sweet boy. I taught you how to use your words. Do you want Mommy to take care of your problem?”

Aegon swallows visibly, eyes still wide. His lips move rapidly, but no sound comes out other than a pathetic mumbling as he tries to unscramble his brains. He finally gives up and just nods, looking up pleadingly. But you don’t cave in and give him a firmer squeeze, earning a whimper from him

“Words” You say firmly, but without sounding too harsh. You don’t want to take him too far and make him scared. But you are also deeply curious on how far you can take this little jest.

It seems to take all his strength to push out every word “Yes Mommy, please” He sounds so small and defenceless, bordering on innocence. If you didn’t know him much better you would believe him a man that has rarely laid with women.

Encouraged, you stroke his hard cock slowly, swiping your thumb across the leaking head to gather the already forming drops and smearing them down his length. Aegon’s hands are everywhere, on your face, on your breasts, on your shoulders, pushing the rest of your dress out of the way to free more of your skin. He grips your hips, squeezes your thighs, seeks in your body an anchor to life as his face scrunches in pleasure. His breaths become ragged and you see his abdominal muscles tensing as he approaches climax. But as soon as you feel the familiar twitching you let go of him, your hand resting on the curve of his thigh.

His eyes shoot open and he half sits, staring at you with a mix of desperation and indignation. He whimpers quietly, shifting his hips to try and get under your delicious touch again, but you slap his thigh gently to keep him still.

“No moving. Mommy is taking care of you and you don’t move unless I say so.” Your tone is low, whispering the words as you press your forehead against his, gazes locked on each other. The black of his eyes has widened, making the purple seem darker, and the tears have dried at last. All that remains is lust mixed with submission, all of it just for you.

You gently caress his stones, watching in amusement as gooseflesh spreads across his skin at the touch, his legs instinctively spreading wider to grant you better access. You trace your index up his length, following the path of the throbbing vein prominent on the underside of his cock, while he fists the sheets, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You lean down to kiss him, letting him drown his moans against your welcoming mouth when you finally pump him, keeping the pace steady.

Again you stop just seconds before he reaches climax, earning an even more desperate whimper from him.

“Mommy, please, it hurts, I want to-” His words are cut short when your free hand takes hold of a fistful of his hair, just enough to feel the pull in his scalp. The moan comes from the depths of his chest when you brush your lips against his ear.

“Are you a good boy? A good boy for Mommy?”

He nods eagerly, his hands cupping your face to keep you close.

“I will be good Mommy. Please, please it hurts” His eyes gloss over, and his lower lip trembles again. He looks so pretty you struggle in your heart to carry on with this little game, even though he seems to enjoy it. And you are enjoying it too, so much you feel is unfair you are missing out on the best part.

You pull away just enough to drop your dress to the side, your smallclothes following suit. With Aegon flat on his back, it is easy for you to straddle his hips, letting the head of his cock snuggle in your slick folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when you rock your hips, gliding the heat of your cunt along his length. You take a slow pace, dragging out the moment as much as possible. But while you are in no rush to finish, Aegon is in a desperate hurry, pushing against your hips and mewling desperately to urge you on. When he tries to grab your hips you smack his hand away and lean in, so close your breaths mingle.

“Stay still, sweet boy. You don’t want Mommy to get angry and leave you like this, do you now?”

“But Mommy” He pants heavily, beads of sweat gathering in his temples “I need it, please. I will be good. I need to be inside you. Please”

You click your tongue, a smirk pulling at your lips. You smooth back his hair and press a kiss to his hairline, an almost soothing touch.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. But you have to keep being good and do as you are told, sweetling. If you are extra good, Mommy will let you spend inside her”

With that promise in mind, Aegon does his best to stay still, but you don’t make it easy for him. The rhythm is tantalisingly slow, coming to a halt every time you or him get too close to climax. His desperation grows to uncharted levels, fingers digging on the mattress, fists so tight on the sheets his knuckles turn white, lip bitten so strongly between his teeth it leaves an imprint. Tears bead in the corners of his beautiful eyes and roll down, dampening the sheet underneath. When you stop for the umpteenth time and a sob racks his chest, you know he’s ready.

You sit back on your haunches and watch him carefully. His hair is toussled from how much he has trashed on the bed, his face puffy and tear streaked, the flush of his cheeks spreading down to his chest. His cock is angrily red and leaky, impossibly hard and coated in your juices. Every muscle on his body is tense like a bowstring ready to fire. You touch his taut abs, rubbing the aching muscles soothingly.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. You deserve your prize”

The moan he releases as you line his cock with your entrance, sinking slowly until he is buried to the hilt, has surely been heard throughout the entire Keep. Encased in your tight heat, it takes no more than a few rocks of your hips for him to peak, back arching off the mattress dramatically as he screams his release to the vaulted ceilings, painting your walls with his spend. But you are not quite there yet. You continue to ride him, now at a dizzying pace, chasing your own release. His whines reach a new high, having barely time to recover from his groundbreaking climax. His abused cock is almost too sensitive to touch, and the drag of your cunt around him feels like fire climbing up his spine; the most deliciously tortuous fire.

Your hips and thighs begin to ache from the exertion, but you are so close, and seeing your sweet Prince so ruined it's definitely spurring you on. You shift your angle just a bit, so the head of his cock brushes against a certain spot inside you that makes you feel like you can touch the stars, all while your fingers circle your neglected pearl. It takes no more than a few thrusts before you climax, your walls tightening around him and somehow drawing out a second peak from him, even though you are sure he doesn’t have much more left to give you. You ride out your release, halting only when the burning on your thighs becomes too much to ignore.

You slide off and lay next to Aegon, who appears to still be waiting for his soul to return to his body. His eyes are wide, some stray tears still rolling, his breaths heavy and slow. When he whines quietly and turns to you, you reward him with a sweet smile and a tender, brief kiss upon the lips. Aegon snuggles into you, just like he likes it best, his face buried in your cleavage as he catches his breath. You rub his back in slow, soothing circles; he closes his eyes, his lips seeking and finding your nipples once more

While he suckles you lean closer, tracing his features with your fingertip

“You were such a good boy. So good for me. Mommy is so proud of you”

The gentle praise goes straight to his heart, that much you can tell in the way he hugs you with his entire body and the upward turn of the corner of his mouth. You know he is tired, and perhaps his body is urging him to sleep. But to do that he needs one last little nudge

“Mommy will always be with you, my sweet Prince”

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vinamari · 1 year

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𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝚂𝚈𝙽𝙾𝙿𝚂𝙸𝚂: You had no regrets as a jujutsu sorcerer, so why should you now?

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂: Unrequited love, pure angst, hurt/no comfort, character death, slight spoilers, Various!JJK x Reader, Gojo Satoru x Reader

𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃: 3,377

“Shoko”, your voice hoarsely called out.

You felt your chest rise and fall as you drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep your breathing steady. She looked at your body which had been leaning against the rubbles of broken down buildings, far from where you currently were had been two special grade curses which had burned away. You were just holding on as she did everything she could to prevent you from leaving. Her eyes still hadn’t moved, staring at the ground beneath her feet like she was hypnotized.

You watched her for a few more seconds before calling her name out again.

“Hey, could just sit with me?”, watching as she bit her lip before walking towards you and taking a seat on the firm ground next to you. You knew she needed to get up and do something. But then again, what else could she possibly do? Your mind was just starting to function and become aware of the impact your body had taken, it didn’t matter now. You couldn’t feel anything waist down, Shoko knew that.

“Be here with me in my last moments, yeah?”, the words left your lips in a whisper, but they were loud enough to carry. You smiled slightly at her, knowing she couldn’t bear to look at you. “Don’t say that, you’ll be fine”, she said suddenly, she was clutching onto your hand.

She was lying to herself, she was lying to you. She knew very well the injuries you sustained would kill you, the blood loss was heavy and no one was around to help. Not even her. And neither of you deserved this, nor would those who find out. You weren’t supposed to end up like this, which is what she wanted to say. “Ieiri, it’s okay it isn’t your fault”.

It took her a few minutes before she could muster up some words, her shaking grip became tighter on yours, almost painfully so. “I know...I don’t want to leave you...”. Tears started to form in her eyes, but you knew she wouldn’t cry. You knew that if you cried then you might lose control of yourself too, and neither of you needed that right now. You tried hard not to cry too. Taking in a deep breath, “How are the kids?”, you asked her softly, hoping her mind wouldn’t go to the idea of you eventually passing away. She gave you a shaky smile. “They’re good, they all are safe”. You nodded, smiling a little.

“Instead my shirt is a pocket, it has something in there”, understand that you wanted her to take it out. She carefully undid the front of your shirt, you were wearing another shirt beneath it, looking for what you wanted she reached for the pocket, her fingers felt a photographic film. Pulling it out, she sees that the objects in her hand were two photographs. “I wanted too look at it for the last time”, your smile slightly wavering into a sad one.

The first photo had been from the time of when you all had been in the Jujutsu Highschool, it was a image inside an arcade area at a popular mall on Tokyo. The image depicted Gojo losing to Geto in a fighting game, with Geto high-fiving Shoko while you had comforted Gojo all while trying to hide your laugh. Shoko smiled dryly at the image, she wasn’t the one to reminisce in the past only to talk about it if you or someone else from back then had brought it up.

She heard a snicker beside her, despite the situation you were still laughing. “I still remember when Geto milked out all the money Gojo had for the week”, you said while looking fondly at the photo. Shoko looked at you with her tired eyes, unable to fight the small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, and then Gojo begged us for some money even though he’s rich”. Shoko looked fondly back at the picture, her eyes shining with memories. She shifted her hand so it would be between the both of you.

“Do you still remember when Gojo forgot to cast the veil?”, you ask with a chuckle. “Gojo was doing everything he could to try distract Yaga Sensei from it”, Shoko said thinking back on the memory before laughing. “Especially since we all just pointed at him”. You both couldn’t help but snicker at his misfortune.

“Geto wouldn’t stop teasing him about right after”, you said. “Geto..”, said the brown eyed girl. You glance upwards, “You ever wonder what it would have been like if things didn’t turn out the way they did?”, you said curiously. Half of your face had been covered in blood, you could feel it dripping down from your chin onto your clothes.

There was a long pause, Shoko thought for a moment. “Yeah”, she finally answered. She turned to face you, a faltering smile on her lips. “We all would have been happier, you would have been really happy”.

“Really what makes you think that?”, asking her in genuine tone. “Because you would have finally had what you wanted”.

A cough left your mouth, you knew what she was implying. It was the one thing you didn’t want to think about. “You can’t lie Y/N”, Shoko said. You closed your eyes, sighing. You opened them again, facing her directly. You shook your head, “No”, you admitted. “But, I really hoped to say it one day”, you said looking her dead in the eye, making sure she knew that you meant what you said. “However now, I can never say it personally”. Shoko was confused, what did you mean?

“What?”, urging you to continue you with your words. “In my apartment, when you enter my room go to my desk”, you paused before continuing. “The drawer which needs a key has two albums inside”. “The photographs of our time inside and out of Jujutsu High”.

Quickly taking in a breath, “There’s an envelope in which I confess, give it to him”. You looked at her with pleading eyes. “You kept all the photos?”, Shoko asked wide-eyed. “Of course I did, I thought it would be nice to think back”, you said thinking back to when you first had the idea. “However this picture is the last one I hadn’t put in yet”. Shoko didn’t dare say a word, she couldn’t believe you were going never to be able to confess, only through a little over a decade ago.

“He’ll love it”, she whispered, her throat closing up as she realized what you were planning on doing. “Just promise me one thing”. Shoko looked at you waiting for you to continue. “Tell them I loved all of them”. She could only nod at what you said.

“The second photograph”, you groaned out. Shoko brought forth the second picture putting the first one behind it. This one being of the new first and second years. “I’m glad I got to see these one last time”, you let out short breaths.

Shoko noticed your breaths become regular by the minutes, your chest was falling slightly faster all while your organs were slowly shutting themselves down. Shoko shifts so you could rest your head on her, the blood was now soaking up the white material of her coat, becoming damp in your blood.

“When I first met Yuuji, I felt terrible for the kid being put for execution”, grimacing at the statements the higher ups had made. “He’s bright and still has room to grow”, you smiled. “Nobara, despite her direct and indirect insults she is bright and determined”. “Lastly Megumi, comparing himself with Yuuji although they both are different”. Shoko continued listening to your rants about them all. “They were all like my kids you know”, you expressed fondly. Shoko knew you loved all of them equally and they loved you. You were there to help them, protect them, and keep them safe. “Although Megumi believed I would replace his mom which was his reasoning to avoid me, I always thought he was my son even if he didn’t think so mom or not”, remembering how he would do anything to avoid talking to you or even meeting you.

The dark haired boy had eventually grown to love you months after meeting him. He relied on you for more things then he ever would with Gojo. It felt as if you had made your own family with Gojo and Megumi, Tsumiki eventually came into the family as well. Making the entire family complete. However Gojo just simply thought you both were their guardians and nothing more. It hurt at first, considering that you liked him instead you brushed it off. In your own world inside your mind you all were a family. Delusional.

Shoko sighed, “It’s been a long time since we’ve talked like this, hasn’t it?”. You nodded. “It’s almost impossible not to, especially now that I’m dying”. Shoko stared at you in disbelief. “You’re not dying!”. But you just laughed. “You think I’m immortal? You think I won’t die? What about those Special Grade curses who came here?”. You motioned to the now burned away curses. You were right, at this point you’re beyond the point from making a return. The only way you’d even live is if they had hooked you onto life support to keep you going, but you’d be bedridden your entire life. You wouldn’t want to live like that, you’d only suffer.

“Ieiri”, grabbing Shoko’s attention. “The day when Gojo said that Geto was his best friend, his one and only”

“I want you to know that you’re my best friend, you’re my one and only”. Shoko couldn’t help but cry, the day when those words left Gojo’s mouth it had made her feel as if she was never their friend, yet here you were comforting her when you’re getting closer to kissing death.

You pulled her into a hug, tears streaming down your cheeks too. “I don’t have much time left”. Shoko sniffled and buried herself deeper into your embrace as the words left your mouth. You held her close and kissed her forehead. “I love you”, you said softly. “I love all of you, maybe in another world we all are happy”.

You rested your head against hers, your breaths were becoming shallower and your conscious was slowly leaving. Shoko didn’t know when your hand dropped to your side, the blood staining your shirt now darkening her white coat. She just stayed quiet watching the scene, knowing that you needed your peace and quiet as your breathing steadily slowed soon gone, your body losing strength and all feelings, finally your heart beating slower and harder than ever before before it came down completely with no pulse. You were gone.

Your body had gone limp against her, the warmth leaving your skin and being replaced by the chill of death. Your blood soaked through your clothes, the stench thick in the air. You had died in her arms, she couldn't bring herself to move your body.

The world was silent around you; all she heard was ruffling noises of her settling you on the ground. She wanted to cry, but nothing came. All that remained was grief for your loss of life. The two photographs that had been in her hand, she would make sure were in the albums. Taking the photographs, she put them away in the pockets of her white crimson stained coat.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she did so and a sharp pain shot through her body like an arrow of ice through her heart, freezing her where she stood. The sensation didn't last long however, it disappeared after seconds as the reality of what had just happened hit her. You died, you’re not here anymore.

Days have passed since your death, she had your body be brought to her lab while preparing for your funeral. The news of your death spread like wildfire among other jujutsu sorcerers as well as the council. The first years and second years had taken your death the worst, believing you’d come back just as Yuuji did. Denial was something shoko was unfamiliar with, she was usually straightforward when it came to stuff like this. Except this time. What else could she say, you were like a parental figure to them. Who wouldn’t be in denial if they lost someone they loved, especially if they died trying to just protect and keep you away from the very thing that would have killed them. But now she couldn’t lie to them anymore, so she tried her best to comfort them and assure them it would be alright.

It had been a complete mess for everyone, having to get used to you not being there to help them with certain things or training with them. Megumi, the raven haired boy had been in his dorm the entire day reflecting. He wishes he had opened up more to you, he wishes he hadn’t been as cold as he was to you when all you did was trying to take care of him. Here was crying at all the memories he had of you knowing there won’t be any new ones. Yuuji and Nobara hadn’t been as ecstatic, knowing that the one person that treated them like their kid who would treat their injuries wasn’t there anymore. It was hard waking up every day realizing you weren’t going to be there to help them in face of danger. Your funeral was couple days away. They still haven’t talked about you being dead. They don’t think Nobara has spoken in hours. Unusual for the girl since has a lot of things to say. Yuuji didn’t know what to do, he lost a lot of people such Nanami, grandfather, Junpei, and you were added onto that list.

No one knew where Gojo had been, when he did show up he still acted the same as if your death hadn’t taken any toll on him. When asked why he hadn’t shown up earlier or said anything at all he simply replied that he didn’t want to. Not even Megumi believed him. Although his response was infuriating they could only bite their tongues and hold it back.

“How could you just say that?!”, a voice yelled. It was Maki, she looked up to you due to your fighting abilities and had even asked you to train her from time to time. Inumaki and Panda could only look away at the scene. “Listen, jujutsu sorcerers die having to do this, Y/N just met the fate of it”. Before anyone could retaliate he simply warped away with the excuse of needing to meet the council.

The white haired male was deceiving himself with that response. The days he hadn’t been at the school he was helping Shoko plan the funeral and the days he wasn’t planning the funeral he would be thinking for hours about all your time back at the Jujutsu Highschool. The Gojo Satoru grieving for someone that hadn’t been so close to him like Geto Suguru who he himself had killed, it truly had left a scar on everyone. Even if it hurt him physically. He didn’t tell anyone though, he wasn’t ready to talk about the feelings he felt he never would be. He had thought they were long gone but apparently not. He wished you could be here to hear the words coming out of his mouth, the words that would explain everything. He wishes that you both could have at least been in love. Or at least been happy together, that he would have seen that in you sooner.

Now you were gone and he couldn’t change that. There was no way you’d ever come back. He should have listened to Megumi and told you. Maybe things could have turned out differently, you would have been able to call him for help. He hoped so anyway. He just wished that you two would have talked about how you felt, instead of pretending that the feelings weren’t there. Every jujutsu sorcerer has regrets, this just happened to be a major one for him.

It was the day of the funeral, many had been gathered around your body which was neatly placed in a casket. The inside of it had been filled with flowers and red roses. Your attire was completely changed from the previously ripped up one in which you died in. Everyone had said their condolences with faces either filled with smiles feeling nothing but sadness and grief, other which were still in denial. Gojo had simply looked at you with indifference not noticing the way his fist clenched when it had been announced to lower you into the ground. They all watched as the casket had been sealed shut and was slowly being lowered into the ground. Tears were silently streaming down their faces, the now cloudy sky had started to share it’s own grief. The droplets simply pouring onto the casket before dripping down. Heads were hung low refusing to watch as the dirt hit the coffin.

The sound of weeping became deafening, no one dared speak above a whisper. The silence was killing everyone, it was as if the weight of your absence was pressing down on their chest. No one dared to leave, they were terrified, it was too soon to see you buried, it would feel too real. This was a dream that they all wanted to wake up from. The wind picked up and carried the scent of rain and flowers away. People took this as their cue to start dispersing until only Gojo remained near your grave. He had been the last to leave, setting down a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

A day had passed since your funeral, Shoko knew you wouldn’t want them to grieve. She had been inches away from your apartment, opening the door and turning the lights on. She trudged towards your room before finally reaching your desk. She had taken out the two albums going through all the memories you had collected. The first album, being from when you guys were sorcerers the second one being of the new first years mixed with the second years. She realized there had been the same space in both albums to fit the photographs, taking them out she carefully place them in to their rightful spot. Before closing the album first album, an envelope was sticking out.

To Gojo, signed off by your name. She quickly retrieved both the albums and the note before driving off to the dorms calling all first and second years as well as Gojo. They were reluctant until it was mentioned that you wanted them to have something.

They had all surrounded Shoko in anticipation, until she presented the second album to them titled “My Kids”. They took it as they all looked over the photographs you had taken of them through the time you had been with them, it was a parting gift from you to them. They all couldn’t stop the tears which had started streaming down their faces as they all relived their moments with you. The first album Shoko had decided to show Gojo personally as well as handing him the letter you had written which confessed your feelings. Shoko stepped out of the room leaving Gojo by himself.

He decided to go through the album looking at the pictures longer in order to feel as if he was there. One by one he remembered every moment with you and the others. After closing the album, he read the letter which had sitting neatly to his side waiting to be opened almost a decade ago. Mentions about you not wanting to ruin your friendship yet wanting to if it meant you having a chance with him. His hands were creasing the edges of the paper, he only wished you had told him sooner and maybe just maybe he could have loved you before you died. To know what it meant to love. To know that it could be possible to do so, it made him smile sadly to himself.

You hadn’t died with regrets, however it left others with a regret of their own.

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i-starcreamed · 1 year

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MIRAGE X READER

hii rotb has made me fall in love with...a lot more transformers now. This is just a silly idea I had, kinda lame but idc. Being cringe and free now. Anyways, planning to make this a small series maybe? Mirage lovers where are you?? Could eventually make this a mirage x reader x Noah, love them both, really. Or you know, Noah could be a third wheel, you guys decide that

[ human!gn reader summary: You have no idea how you got into this situation. First, you were trying to steal a true beauty of a car with your friend Noah to get some extra cash with Reek working behind the scenes (apparently) And now, you were in the Porche you guys were planning to steal. Mind you, it's currently driving itself.

"Holy shit!" You yelled in terror as the car careened wildly around the curve, sending both you and Noah lurching to the left side of the vehicle. You clung onto the door handle for dear life, your heart pounding in your chest as a combination of fear and adrenaline caused you to burst out into wild laughter. Noah, on the other hand, let out an ear-splitting, high-pitched scream as he death-gripped onto the steering wheel with both hands. "STOP STOP STOP!"

The radio kept picking up a certain frequency, it was static-y but still clear enough to understand it kept reaching out towards something or someone named Mirage.

After crashing several police cars, running red lights, and being tossed around the car, the silver and blue Porche entered a warehouse of some sort and literally tossed you out onto the cement. Noah groaned as he rolled on his side. You on the other hand, didn't manage to fall onto the ground and gripped onto the seat. You thought it was over but noo, all of a sudden the car decides to transform, its component parts moving and shifting into new positions. You stare in awe and fear as the walls around you warp and bend ever so slightly; the seat beneath you shifts away from you before slowly, almost hesitantly dropping you onto the ground. You stare up and after a couple seconds, the car transformed into a fucking robot. Towering several feet in front of you and Noah, you both stare up in fear. You're a bit amazed honestly, you're staring at a giant metal dude stretch and prance around the warehouse, ranting about being cooped up this entire time.

You and Noah shared a look.

"But that was cool, you guys are cool. A bit loud, ehh, but cool." The robot stood in front of you now, his gaze focused on the both of you. You froze, Noah scrambled around to pick up a metal pipe. "Woah woah woah!" The robot held his hands up. You cursed under your breath and scrambled to get behind Noah, trying to look for anything you can use as a weapon as the robot focused on Noah. You found a couple loose bolts and nuts on the ground and scooped them up in your palm.

You approached Noah's side, menacingly brandishing the tiny screws in your hand. The robot quickly put his hands in the air. "What are you gonna do, you gonna hit me?"

You both looked at eachother. Noah shifted, adjusting his stance while still holding up the pipe. "Maybe?" The robot made a noise akin to a scoff and his left arm started transforming into something else, oh god oh fuck. Before you even had time to register it, you threw a bolt at him. It hit his arm and he froze. "Hey- what?"

You were launching bolts at him, your shots greeted with a "hey, hey, hey!" each time they clanked against his frame. You kept getting closer, pushing him back further and further, surprising yourself with your own nerve. That confidence instantly disappeared when he whipped out his arm-gun, the blue light from the barrel seemed to lock onto you and Noah, like two deer in headlights. "Can you- stop throwing those things at me?!"

"woah, woah, woah-" Noah quickly put his hands up and walked up to you, standing in front of you. "Let's all calm down, alright? Alright? We good?" "Noah, what the hell is this about?" You whisper yelled.

"I dont know! Just dont get us killed" he whisper yelled back.

You huffed defiantly, you quickly took the bat from Noah's hands and tightly gripped it. You adopted a battle-ready stance, staring down the giant robot - thing? - truly unyielding. Neither of you backed down until he put the gun down, straightening up. "Okay okay, you're brave. I like that."

Your face dropped, dumbfounded. Noah reached out and firmly snatched the bat from you, his face a mask of barely-contained irritation. "what did I fucking tell you about not trying to get us killed, dude?" He hissed.

What the hell was going on.

#transformers x reader #transformers rotb #rotb x reader #rotb mirage #mirage x reader #maccadam #rise of the beasts #tf x reader #noah diaz

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agoodroughandtumble · 3 months

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Tell Me How - Zoro x Reader

Status: One Shot Summary: Zoro wants to know why Reader is in love with him; Reader has other ideas Warnings: 18+, Implied/bordering on NSFW

You had been trying – and failing – to move for at least ten minutes. Every time you managed to gain a few inches across the mattress a strong arm would pull you back. No that you were complaining – well, you were complaining, slightly, you just needed to stretch your legs. Zoro had a habit of falling asleep on top of you which was always welcoming when you wanted a cwtch. It was less welcoming when you had his entire body weight on top of you all night and you were currently trapped in a death grip. Another attempt to wriggle out of his vice-like grip resulted in you collapsing back against his chest with a sigh.

“You might need to let me move soon.” You told him, fingers lazily stroking along his forearm.

“Nope. Got you now.” His voice was groggy, deep, half-asleep and coupled with a tighter grip around your waist.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk forming at the corner of your mouth. Obviously there were worse ways to start your day, but for “a great swordsman” he wasn’t half clingy when he was tired. As much as he would hate you thinking it, it was rather adorable. For someone usually so in control, so aware of all of the burdens life thrust upon him, so aware of his innate need to be the best, to do the best, and yet every morning he awoke needing your form against his. Everyone else might know him as the demon pirate hunter; you knew him.

He slung a leg over your waist, as usual, holding you as close as he possibly could. Your fingers continued running along his forearms, biceps, spurred on by his murmurs of satisfaction. The ship was quiet, but peacefully so, the gentle, rhythmic rocking of the waves almost convincing enough to let you believe that the entire universe was just you and Zoro, and feeling his heartbeat, his shallow breaths against your shoulder. Which was why it was so annoying that you just needed to move. You weren’t even moving far, just turning over to stretch out a bit but Zoro was half asleep and a dead weight and entirely committed to this moment. It would have been excessively romantic … if your bones didn’t ache.

“Zoro… I do need to move.” You said gently, feet sliding along his calves.

There was a small grunt. “You can move under one condition.”

Your raised eyebrows would have been missed if he hadn’t shifted so he was completely on top of you. Even after months of waking up next to him the feeling of all of him on top of you still had the butterflies in your stomach dive-bombing straight to your core. You tried to keep your composure but your dilated pupils and the shakily exhaled breath completely gave you away.

You couldn’t quite describe the way he looked at you – on the surface it was all tenderness, and yet the swordsman was fully living up to his nickname. Boring into your soul. The underlying darkness, an abyss you so happily jumped head first into because he would catch you. He would always catch you. Your breath hitched under such scrutiny, the anticipation of what was yet to come, the promise of all the depths you could traverse. Trying to keep a level head was futile, and yet you endeavoured. “Which is?”

He smirked. A devilish smile if ever there was one as his head dipped, lips tracing along your neck. “Tell me how you fell in love with me.” Teeth nipped at your ear, “Then I’ll let you go.”

You sighed, against any better judgement allowing yourself to be completely his, “You know how.”

“Mmm.” Whether that was a response to what you said, or just his attention to your collarbone was beyond you, but you didn’t care. Your skin goosepimpled as his hands travelled along your curves, caressing every inch before stopping just where you wanted him most. “Say it.”

“Zoro … I, you kno-oh fuck.”

If you weren’t far too aware of his fingers you would probably be able to come up with a response. Instead, your hips involuntarily met his hand and any semblance of coherence was gone. You didn’t hear a chuckle, but the reverberations against your skin was enough to leave you shivering.

“Tell me how you fell in love with me.” His voice was more solid now, sterner.

“You know how,” you managed out, thighs trapping his wrist in place.

His pace slowed. Agonisingly. As if almost nothing. And when you looked up at him all there was was those dark, determined eyes. Just before a kill. Zoro was not a man to back down – you had learnt that many times over, and would learn many times over again.

Maybe it was the heat rising, maybe it was the way that looked at you, maybe it was the ever desperate need to be everything or rather his everything, whatever it was you pushed yourself up on your elbows and crossed a leg over the other, keeping his hand in place. He looked confused and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of catching him off guard. With an eyebrow raised and your entire heart firmly in his grasp to crush you squared up to him. You cocked your head in an attempt at nonchalance. “Not until you tell me first.”

#opla #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro roronoa x reader

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sillysowa · 1 year

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Request, write as you please but

Now hear me

Plus size reader and hobie is just like 'Sit on my face, i will eat you out like a pie' Reader tried to explain that wouldn't be smart in case he lost airflow and his response is something along the lines of "Ill Die A HAPPY MAN"

-🧁Anon

Love, love, love, this—ty cupcake anon🙏 I apologize for the wait! I’ve found myself writing multiple works at a time.

TASTE LIKE HEAVEN

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X PLUS-SIZE!FEM!READER

GENRE: SLIGHT ANGST, SMUT

WORD COUNT: 0.8K

WARNINGS: BODY INSECURITIES FROM READER IN THE BEGINNING, ORAL FEM RECEIVING, FACE-SITTING, ASS SLAPPING

AUTHORS NOTE: I JUST LOVE WRITING CUNNILINGUS, KEEP IT COMING

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE CONVINCES HIS GIRL THE BEST WAY TO GO IS DEATH BY FACESITTING

—

Hobie is tall and lanky. He knows that how you feel about your body is something he may never understand, but he absolutely loves you and is willing to try.

Your body is so incredibly beautiful to Hobie in ways that he can’t even put into words. When he’s found you staring too hard in the mirror or at skinnier women, getting insecure when shopping for clothes or continually struggling to find an outfit because you’re having a bad body confidence day, it absolutely wrecks him.

The two of you were currently making out in his room, lying on your sides. He had noticed how shy you had been with sex these past weeks, and he wanted to help you—even if it meant walking you through taking a step out of your comfort zone,

“Luv, ‘wanna try something.” He states, out of breath from your kiss. He nestles a pillow under his head and lays back, grabbing your hands and guiding you on top of him.

“H-Hobie, I-“

“C’mon! It’s alright, I want you to.” He assures you, looking up into your eyes like you hung the stars—gaze full of admiration and eyebrows pinched in desire. You allow yourself to at least get on his lap, confused when he, still fully clothed, starts to remove your shorts.

“What are you thinking, Hobe’s?” You ask with a teasing sigh. You were nervous. You knew Hobie hated when you refused to do certain things out of insecurity or fear over your weight compared to his. Hobie ‘couldn’t give a rats-ass’ as he has said previously. You still felt anxious. You were now nude waist down, and Hobie got a mischievous glint in his eyes that made your stomach drop,

“You’re gonna sit on my face.” He said casually like it didn’t send a chill up your spine,

“No. Nonono, Hobie that’s not a good idea.” You instantly attempt to shut it down, moving to get off of him when his hands lock on your hips, his surprising super-human strength catching you off guard.

“I know you’d have the time of your life riding my face, darling. Just let me show you how good it can be.” He begs, squeezing your hips. Hobie would truly never make you do something you don’t want to do, but he knows you’d love it. He understands that you’re just struggling with the idea of resting your full weight on his face.

“What if you…can’t breathe?” You mumble, trying to make up an excuse despite the throbbing you feel between your legs. Hobie instantly lets out the most seductive laugh you’ve ever heard, his hands tightening on your hips and shaking you slightly, his gaze falls back on you before he simply smiles and says,

“I can’t think of a better way to go.”

Before you knew it, he was guiding you through it, your pussy right above his face and your hands on the headboard.

“Give it to me, luv.” Hobie groans. His eyelashes flutter closed as you gently sit on his face, your thighs around his head. He hums, expertly eating you out the moment you’re in his reach—your moans filling the room. His tongue is everywhere, his hands moving your hips with a steady rhythm, helping you ride his face just like he wants.

“Atta girl, baby,” He moans into your pussy, “Fuck my face, doll.” Hobie messily eats you, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his grip on your hips tight. He slaps your ass and fungus fucks you, his eyes up gazing at your fucked our face. He notices your desperate panting and whines of his name, looking down at him with your face heating up from the overwhelming pleasure. The sound of his mouth working on you, the heat in the room, the feeling of his warm tongue in your tight pussy—it’s almost too much to handle—but the aching in your thighs as you desperately try to not rest your full weight on Hobie is worse. Suddenly, you feel his hands snake around your thighs and pull you down onto him as if you weigh nothing. You gasp and moan brokenly at the feeling, Hobie letting out a deep primal noise and slapping your ass, urging you to ride him. You pause a moment to look down at his face, only his eyes visible with you using him as a seat. Your hips slowly start to move on him, Hobie nodding in approval as you ride. The feeling of your orgasm nearing clouds your senses, your hips rapidly thrusting on Hobie’s face as you moan his name into the room,

“Hobie!~” You moan his name as you cum, your hands gripping the headboard as your lover drinks you up. Your head falls back, lifting yourself up a bit and taking deep breaths as Hobie licks the mess up. He kisses your thighs before you fall over onto your back, your clit pulsing and your head spinning. Hobie smiles and kisses you, the taste of your orgasm all over his tongue and lips. He pulls away, and the tent in his pants makes your pussy clench around nothing. Hobie leans down and kisses you where you’re sensitive, chuckling

“Have I ever told’ja you taste just like heaven, luv?”

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie brown angst #hobie spiderverse #spiderman #silly’s fics

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duskrosecreatesstuff · 2 months

Text

When Nature Calls

Astarion has learned that cold nights in the Elfsong are better with a warm Tiefling to curl up with. But when that warmth turns to heat, he's going to need Halsin's help to satisfy her desires.

Read on AO3

NSFW. Astarion/Halsin/Female Tiefling Reader. 3.8k words

CW: Heat cycles, Oral sex, Biting / Mating bites, Tiefling tail play, PiV Sex.

Astarion shifted against the warmth of his tieflings back. He was no longer in his trance, but did not want to leave the warmth of their shared bed. Some nights, the cold of his body didn't bother him. Some nights, he wanted nothing more than to indulge in the heat being freely given. And tonight, her body felt exceptionally warm, despite her only wearing a thin shirt and her underwear, and having wriggled out from the blankets.

He drifted a hand over her ribs and across her stomach, pulling her in close as he nuzzled his cold cheek against her shoulder, and her body responded, a slightly deeper breath, a shift of her hips against him. Her tail drifted lazily over his thigh, wrapping over him with light pressure. Astarion smiled against her skin. He’d be content to stay like this until the new day woke her.

Moments passed, perhaps minutes, perhaps an hour? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, was that her body was moving against him, a gentle movement of her hips against his. He froze. She had to be dreaming, surely? This wasn’t in their current agreement. He braced himself and tried to pull his hips away. Her tail clenched and stiffened where it had wrapped around him. Her body clearly had other ideas. As he tried again to press himself away from her, he noticed her temperature had risen. Where before she had been pleasantly warm to his touch, now she felt hot, almost feverish. He frowned and put his hands on her hips, pushing hard.

Instead of moving away, her body writhed and rolled, changing position to face him, all without ever letting him go. Her tail had a powerful grip on him, and he felt trapped. As his panic started to rise, he hissed her name. When that failed to wake her, he leaned over to bite at her ear.

*******

Your eyes opened to a sharp pain in your ear. As you roused yourself from your slumber, you noticed you had moved in your sleep, and were holding your vampire lover in a death grip, your thigh thrown over his, your tail wrapped tightly around his waist. As you met his deep crimson gaze, a wave of lust washed over you, and you realised with dismay, that you had awoken to your heat cycle starting. And starting hard.

In a flash, you pulled away, scrambling backwards across the bed, tugging your shirt down over yourself, and dragging your tail off his body.

“Shit!” you gasped out. “Gods, Astarion, I’m sorry … I didn’t .. I’m sorry … shit!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled. He’d been on the brink of panic at how tightly you had been holding him, but now you were awake, he was more confused by your actions.

“I- “ you waved a hand vaguely, “this … I didn’t think …”

“Shhh, it’s alright. Take your time.” He reached out to touch you reassuringly, but you flinched away.

“Don’t touch me!” You took a deep breath, then another, your shoulders shaking as you tried to hold back tears, your hands gripping your knees tightly to your chest.

“What is going on with you? Are you sick? You’re certainly feverish. Should I get Halsin?” he was babbling, partly with concern, partly to cover his fear at what could be happening to you.

“No! Nothing like that! Hells …” you clenched your teeth. “Actually … yes. Please bring Halsin”

“Of course, you must need healing,” he muttered, sliding off the bed and walking quickly across the room.

You watched him go, waiting until the door closed to let the tears loose. How could you have lost track of the timing so badly? You had been sure you had more time before you were going to have make arrangements for this, that you had time to discuss this with Astarion, to warn him. As you counted back the days, the only conclusion you could come to, was that you had to have been trapped on the nautiloid longer than you had originally thought.

You dropped your forehead to your knees, rocking gently, your tail switching against the blankets, clenching your thighs together as you waited for Astarion to return with Halsin. It gave you the tiniest amount of relief, a bucket of water on the raging inferno of desire that was crawling over every inch of your skin.

You didn’t look up as you heard the soft click of the door opening, so you didn’t see the looks on the two men as your scent hit them. But you did hear Halsin take a deep breath, followed by the soft rumble of his voice.

“Oak Father preserve us.”

“What is it? Do you know what’s wrong with her?” There was a panicked urgency in the vampire’s usually smooth voice. “Can you help her?”

“I do know. She’s in her heat cycle, So technically, there’s nothing wrong with her, exactly. Just … ” Halsin’s voice trailed off as he looked at you thoughtfully.

“Just what?” Astarion’s brows knitted as he tried and failed to recall anything about tieflings having heat cycles. To be expected, he’d never spent much time with a living one before.

“Just that she’s going to be insatiable for the next few days. As for helping her? There’s no potion or healing spell for this.” Halsin huffed a gentle laugh. “But I’d be delighted to help, if you’re both willing.”

You looked up at Astarion, your expression miserable, but your eyes dark with lust. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. The timing is terrible, given that you … we … aren’t … y’know…”

“I know, love. It’s alright.” Astarion thought for a moment. Now he knew what was going on, his worry subsided, and he felt calmer. This was to do with sex, and in that, at least, he was in familiar territory. He was back in control, his voice once again smooth and sensual.

“Do you want Halsin to help?” He watched your response closely, your tail curling, a rush of your scent filling his nostrils, the little spike in your heartbeat that gave you away.

“Oh, you do, don’t you? You’d like him to help scratch this itch of yours, wouldn’t you?” Astarion purred, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “And I could watch …”

“You’d want that?” you whimpered.

“To see my ferociously horny lover come undone on our druid friend? My sweet, you have no idea how much I’d enjoy watching that.”

“Really?” you panted softly, looking up at him. You’d become adept at recognising when he was masking, and you saw no hint of that on his face. Only certainty. And desire. He nodded.

“Really.” he said, softly.

“Close the door.” you gasped out. Halsin moved across the room to secure the door, while Astarion climbed up onto the bed, manoeuvring himself to sit behind you. He reached for your shirt, helping you to discard it, then pulled you back to lay against his bare chest, making sure he had a clear view down the length of your body, and once again savouring the warmth of your skin. He was cautious of having his hips too close to your writhing tail. He looked up as Halsin approached the bed.

“She’s all yours.”

Halsin smiled down at you, a somewhat predatory look in his eyes. He could feel the scent of you waking all his most primal senses, could feel his bear stirring deep within him. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

He reached for your soaked underwear, dragging the ruined fabric off your body and tossing it to the side. As he knelt between your legs, he was aware of the tightness building in his own trousers. Your lips parted as you watched him with lustful eyes, nodding to him when he met your gaze, spreading your thighs for him.

He took a brief moment to admire the mess your heat had already made of you, your dripping core shining in the dimly lit room. With a soft growl, he dipped down between your thighs, his tongue sliding easily between your swollen folds, lapping at you as if starved. You sighed at the relief his touch was giving you, tilting your hips up to him, offering yourself to him, your tail drifting to stroke over his shoulders. He took that as encouragement, plunging his tongue into you, as you moaned in pleasure.

“Oh, you’re enjoying that, aren’t you?” Astarion purred in your ear. “Does our lovely druid have a skilled tongue? Is he making you feel so, so good?” He stroked his hands down your arms, wrapping his arms around you, gently but firmly pinning your arms to your sides, as his hands moved to cup your breasts, pinching lightly at your already sensitised nipples, enjoying the soft sounds you were gasping out. He peered down over your shoulder, admiring the way your nipples stiffened between his fingers, watching as Halsin bobbed between your thighs, feeling your body quiver in response to their combined movements. He knew your body well enough to recognise your signs.

“So close, already, my love? Are you going to be a good girl, and come on his tongue?”

You whimpered, as Halsin took the hint in Astarion’s words, and slid a hand along your thigh, reaching to press tight circles over your clit with this thumb. Your back arched as your body tensed, your walls clenching against his tongue, as he continued to lap your juices. Astarion held you gently, as you trembled and panted against him.

Halsin looked up, wiping your slick from his chin with the back of his hand. “That should take a little of the edge off. Although she will no doubt want more.” he grinned. “If you wish to indulge her too.”

Astarion smiled as he pressed a light kiss to the side of your neck, noticing a difference in the scent of your blood, a quick thought brushing through his mind as to how you might taste right now, but pushed that to the side as a stronger scent of you filled his nostrils at Halsin’s words.

“Would you like that, my love? Do you want us both to touch you?” Astarion whispered into your ear. You nodded, humming in agreement, as he drifted a hand down over your quivering stomach.

“Good Gods.” he whispered as he reached between your thighs, and felt for himself just how dripping wet you were. It was nothing to coat his fingers in your slick, and move the pads of his fingers to drift in lazy circles over your swollen clit. You whimpered, pushing your hips up against him.

“Already wanting more? You greedy little thing.” You tilted your face to glance back over your shoulder at him, grinning wickedly. With your arms still held against your sides, you moved your tail to wrap around his wrist, pulling his hand harder against you. His eyes went a little wide, he’d hadn’t considered the possibilities of your tail like this. You used your tail to tug his hand lower, guiding his fingers to your dripping entrance.

Meanwhile, Halsin quickly removed his clothing and joined the two of you on the bed. Astarion couldn’t resist taking a peek as the larger man disrobed, and it took all his remaining willpower to not make some comment about “Nature’s gifts”.

The bed dipped slightly as Halsin moved up alongside you, leaning over to kiss you hungrily, the taste of your own juices still on his tongue, as one of his large hands brushed over your nipple. You whimpered into his mouth, your back arching as Astarion slipped a finger into you, pressing your breast hard into Halsin’s palm. He pulled away from your lips, his head dipping to take your nipple between his lips, alternating sucking on it, and lapping at it with his tongue. His hand stroked lightly over your thigh, joining Astarions between your thighs, and you moaned at the feel of them both working inside you - one thick and warm, the other cool and slender.

Astarion nipped lightly at your neck, as he slid his finger back out of you, gliding it up to your swollen clit with a featherlight touch. It was quickly replaced by Halsin, who took the opportunity to drive a second finger into you, working you open. You wailed as he curled them inside you, catching that spot that made you see stars.

“Shhh,” Astarion whispered in your ear. “You don’t want to wake everyone, do you?” He slid his free hand up to cover your mouth, and you lewdly licked at his fingers. He smirked.

“Oh, do I need to give you something to keep you quiet?” He pressed two fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them greedily, suggestively. Your hips bucked as the two men worked in tandem, and you rolled your neck, pressing your head back against Astarion’s shoulder, perfectly offering your neck to him. He increased the friction on your clit, as he pressed his lips to the pulse in your neck, his teeth lightly grazing your skin. You gave a small nod, which was all the permission he needed, and you felt the sharpness of his fangs puncturing your skin, and the icy numbness that followed. You felt his lips work against you, felt the rush of your blood as he sucked your life essence into his mouth.

The taste was intoxicating. It was still very much the blood he adored, that revived him, that made him feel almost alive. But there was something else, an added spice to it. A few more quick circles of his fingers, and your body quivered once more, your keening muffled by the fingers in your mouth as you fell over the edge again, clenching hard around Halsin’s fingers, while Astarion tasted your ecstasy in your blood.

He pulled away, lapping gently at the puncture wounds, watching for the blood to stop flowing. A tendril of green flowed from Halsin’s free hand, helping the marks to fade faster.

“You know, that might not have been a wise decision, Astarion.” Halsin observed, with a smirk as he gently slid his fingers out from your swollen walls.

“Hmm?” Astarion licked his lips, swallowing the last drops.

“Her blood. That might not have been wise.”

Astarion leaned his head back, as he realised he felt warm, warmer than usual after drinking your blood. And that heat was pooling between his thighs, in a way that was demanding his attention. He groaned, angling his hips against where the base of your tail was moving, a light friction to relieve the building pressure in his trousers.

You felt him shift against you, and you swiftly realised what was going on. Your blood, and all its pheromones, was now coursing through him. He was feeling what you were feeling. Your heat, your need, was now his, too. You rolled off him, scrambling to your knees next to him.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” you gasped, frantically searching his face. His eyes were shut, and he gave a soft moan, moving his hand to cover the stiffened ridge clearly evident through his soft camp trousers. You couldn’t tell if that was a yes or a no. You placed a hand on his chest.

“I want to help, my love.” You dragged your fingertips lower, placing your hand over his. “May I?” His eyes stayed closed as he nodded. You pushed his hand out of your way, as you tugged at the laces of his trousers, pulling them open and freeing his cock from the restriction. You reached for him with your hand, stroking the unusually warm skin, pre-cum already beading at the tip.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me, please.” He opened his eyes, meeting yours. “I want to help.” you repeated, earnestly. You bit your lip coyly, and smiled at him. “I want to taste you. May I?”

He cupped your jaw in one hand, and you leaned in to his touch.

“Yes.” He whispered. “Please, yes.” You smiled, lowering yourself onto all fours and crawling to position yourself with your head in his lap. His fingers stroked into your hair as you leaned down to his lap, cautiously running the tip of your tongue along the rock hard length.

He gave a soft sigh at the gentle relief, and you let your tail drift over his leg, stroking along his thigh, as gentle and calming as you could. You felt him relax, and you moved to press your lips to the smooth tip in a gentle kiss, wrapping the fingers of one hand around his shaft You parted your lips to swirl your tongue over the tip, catching and tasting the little droplets of pre-cum forming.

You felt the bed dip behind you, and Halsin’s warm hands pressed against your ass. Your tail curled up at the touch, offering Halsin a full view of your dripping cunt. You gave a muffled squeal as he brushed his thumbs against the underside of your tail, and you subconsciously moved your knees farther apart in invitation.

“Oh you filthy little thing!” Astarion gasped. “Is this what you’ve dreamed of? Having us both like this?”

Your lips quirked in a small smile. If Astarion was talking dirty, you knew he was back in his comfort zone. You moaned against him, as you felt Halsin’s thick cock sliding between your folds, becoming slick with your fluids

“My heart. I want more of you. I want to give you more.”

You lifted your head to glance over your shoulder at him, and whispered a very needy “please”, arching your back to press your hips against him. He gripped the base of your tail as you turned back to take Astarion deeply into your mouth, felt him line himself up with your slick entrance, felt him tugging on your tail as he pushed slowly into you, his shallow thrusting pushing deeper and deeper into you, and you moaned as you felt him stretch and fill you.

Astarion gave a series of gasps, as he felt the vibration of your throat tingling against him with every sound you were making. It didn’t take long before it became too much for him, and with a low moan, he bucked his hips up, hot ropes of cum shooting into your mouth. You worked your throat to swallow it all, drinking him down much like he drank you barely minutes ago.

You opened your mouth to let Astarion’s cock slide out with one last swipe of your tongue. As you lifted your head up, Halsin took the moment to drive deeply into you, and you arched back against him. As your body raised slightly, you felt his powerful arms grip you, lifting you into his lap as he knelt behind you, your knees spread wide over him.

“That’s it, my love, let him fill you. You can take him, can’t you? I saw what he has, you must be feeling so full, darling. Is he making you feel good?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded, whimpering a soft “yes” to each of his questions. Astarion lifted a hand to gently cup your chin, tilting your face to his.

“No, no. Eyes on me, darling. Remember, I wanted to see you come undone.”

You opened your eyes again, meeting his gaze. Halsin gave a low growl as he pulled your body close in against him, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your thigh. He dipped to kiss the back of your shoulder, but the proximity to your scent gave his bear other ideas. With a flash of gold in his eyes, you felt teeth against your shoulder, holding you in a mating bite. You keened as he flexed his hips roughly against you, pounding deeply into you, over and over again.

“Come on, my darling, let go for me. For us.”

Astarion reached down, fingers expertly reaching for your clit again, and you squealed at the overstimulation, tears forming in your eyes. He pushed his thumb into your open mouth, and you sucked noisily on it, your tongue moving against it in the same rhythm as your cunt clenched around Halsin, bringing him his own climax as he bucked his hips up, pumping you full.

You collapsed onto your side with Halsin and lay there for a few moments, spent. As your breathing returned to normal, you felt him soften and slip out of you. He stood up and crossed the room, returning with your washbowl of water and a couple of cloths. He dampened one, and used it to carefully clean the mess off your thighs. Astarion took the other one, and wiped gently at your face, dabbing off the sweat, and the remnants of his spend that had dribbled on your chin.

“How do you feel, darling?” he asked cautiously.

You gave a contented smile. “Sated. For now.” Your face changed to a look of concern as you asked him “And you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I think that was enough to make it pass for me. And … thank you for helping.”

“It was the least I could do, I got you into that state, after all”

“Well, maybe if that neck of yours wasn’t so damned irresistible.” He teased, with a wry smile. “But, fair point. Perhaps I would be wise to seek my meals elsewhere for the next few days.”

He touched a finger to the bruised bite mark blooming on your shoulder. “And it looks like I wasn’t the only one who wanted to make a meal of you.”

Halsin laughed, a deep throaty rumble, and touched a healing tendril to the marks. “Indeed. But at least I did not partake of her blood. I fear I would have lost control completely, and I don’t think this bed could handle the bear.”

Astarion looked at you, the blissed out look on your face as you lay there, unsure how to ask his next question. “Love, should we leave? Do you need to be alone? In case it happens again?”

You yawned sleepily, and shook your head. “No, I’ll be fine for a few hours. You can stay.” You glanced at Halsin. “You can both stay. If you wish.”

You wrapped an arm over Astarion, as he shifted his body in against yours. Halsin curled in behind you, and you smiled, feeling warm and safely held between your two lovers.

** A few nights later **

Astarion snuggled contentedly against your back. He’d missed curling in against your warmth these past few nights.

“Darling?” he whispered in your ear.

“Mmhmm?”

“I’ve been thinking. About that night, with Halsin. About how you looked, how you tasted.”

You tensed, unsure what he was about to say. You said nothing.

“I’d like … I want … to do that again sometime. Only, next time, I want to enjoy you as much as he did.”

You relaxed again, smiling against the pillow. You’d been hoping for this, you just hadn’t been certain that the time was right to ask him about it. But you still weren’t quite prepared for his next words.

“I can’t wait to hear the sweet sounds you’re going to make with us both deep inside you.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 halsin #bg3 astarion #bg3 tiefling #bg3 smut #bg3 x reader

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mae-gi-writes · 5 months

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Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 5

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

taglist: @edynmeyer1 @ss28 @kurowvie @vaugarkel

A/N: omg omg things are starting to roll and I'm so down for all of it. What do you think so far of Gally and Mai?

Also available on Wattpad.

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"The shuck you lookin' at?"

"I'm not looking at anything," says Mai as she plops another spoonful of mashed potatoes in Gally's plate, all while keeping a watchful eye on Frypan. The latter is currently grilling sausages and whistling to himself. She pushes the already-filled plate towards Gally and hisses, "just take it."

"You like him," Gally says it like a statement, not even a question. The idea has Mai's ears burn red, "no I don't. Now stop talking to me so I can go back to work."

A few days have passed since the incident and apart from a few weird looks from Jeff and Clint, Mai has escaped their tirade of questions for this month. For now, she's safe and back out of the radar.

Safe from everyone, except for Gally, who seems to have other ideas.

Like right now currently, when he's adamant that Mai has a crush on Minho. It doesn't help that Minho is cute and does make her blush from time to time. But hey, who can blame her? The Runner is a hugger and enjoys physical touch. He does it with everyone, so it's not like she can just ask him to back off without reason. That'll make him even more suspicious.

Gally doesn't think so, "what d'you like about him anyway? He's an asshole and he's full of himself."

"You are the asshole, Gally," Mai flicks her fork at him with a scowl, "now get lost."

She's not one to daydream of such things but she swears that something has changed between them within the past week. Gally somehow feels less aggressive. Oh, don't get her wrong, he still bullies her to death when no one's looking, but Mai likes to think that his actions speak louder than words.

And it feels as though he doesn't really mind having her around him.

But being friends with Gally also means to be bullied by others because of it. The first time it happened, she'd been busy unloading some meat from her cart when one of the Gladers pushed her over when she wasn't looking. She fell to the ground, eyes narrowed into slits as the Gladers around her laughed, but decidedly ignored them in favour of keeping the peace.

That doesn't stop them from trying to get something out of her.

It happens on an evening where all Keepers had been called to a meeting. Mai had been busy tasked with collecting some firewood for the Kitchens as Frypan needed more for the fires, and had been so engrossed in the task that she is surprised to find that night had fallen before she'd known it.

It's dark out now and with no light to guide her, she grips the sack of branches close to her chest as she treads carefully, squinting to follow the light of the Homestead.

"Oh look what we have here."

She freezes, turns over her shoulder slowly until she comes face to face with one of the Gladers that's been annoying her ever since she can remember; Henry.

He's one of the Builders, just as buff as Gally but short and squat, making him look rounder than he appears. His face makes Mai want to run for it and as he grins, she swears she feels her feet tremble. The desire to run prickles the back of her neck.

"Give it a rest Henry," Mai says flatly. It's been a while and she's not in the mood for this games.

"You know, we're in a Glade full of boys." He advances towards her and from the trees come out more Gladers, ones that she's unfamiliar with. Her stomach clenches with apprehension and she takes a shaky step back, "so we have needs, and sometimes, we need someone to fullfill those needs."

"That's pathetic," she snaps. Fear is pounding at her heart, causing a permanent ringing to thrum through her ears.

"Is it?" His grin widens, "let's find out."

Mai doesn't wait. She turns to break into a run—

But arms grab at her before she can, throwing her to the ground as a cry leaves her lips. Someone swivels her around roughly before she's forced to kneel at the knees.

"Stop it!" She yells out, tears starting to gather in her eyes at the thought that maybe there's no way out of this. Shit. And it's dark, nobody wanders to the forest in the dark.

The other gladers laugh like she's burst out a joke, "he's cute. I like him." One of them says.

"Let's see if he's got more spike than this," and to her horror, Henry starts to unzip his pants right before her eyes.

Mai's head jerks away, "stop it! Help!" She tries to shout as loud as her lungs would go, to no avail. The gladers swarm around her like a pack of Hyenas and she can't help but look at Henry's girth. It's red and throbbing and makes her want to throw up.

No. She begs silently, tears streaming down her face as she tries to push and shove and bite and kick-- anything, anything--

A hand clamps down on her skull, stopping her from moving altogether.

"Let's see what you're made of Greenie," Henry cackles as he advances forward, holding his girth in his hand. He grabs hold of her hair and pulls, roughly, until she's face to face with it. Her eyes squeeze shut as she hears him laugh out like a maniac. It sends chills down her spine, even more so when he squeezed her head--

"Everything all right here?"

The hand freezes. As does everyone.

Mai's throat bobs. A sob breaks out of it.

Through tear-rimmed eyes, she can barely make out two figures at the far end of the forest.

But she feels like she knows this voice. It's one that she hears everyday.

"Gally," Henry is quick to let go, zipping up his pants in the process though still keeping his hold on her hair, "what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that," a new voice. Newt's, speaks up as the slim figure advances forward. There's a dangerous tone to it, the kind that's like a warning bell and the other Gladers seem to sense it too, moving back slowly and away from Henry, letting go of her arms in the process.

"Just having a little fun here with the Greenie," he tries to sound confident, but it's clear he fears his Keeper. But his mistake is asking, "what do you say? Wanna—"

His words barely make it out of his mouth before a fist swings out in his direction.

Henry goes down with a cry. A series of footsteps thump along the ground, and there stands Gally, breathless and looking absolutely terrifying. Furious.

"You disgusting shank," he grabs Henry's collar, jerks him up before delivering another blow. And another, and another—

"Gally!" Newt shouts. The said Builder stops in mid-action, looking down at Henry's bloodied face with his jaw still clenched. Newt continues, "that's enough, man. Let him go."

Gally's still glaring, hold tightening even further.

"Gally," Newt repeats more firmly and this time the Builder lets him go, Henry falling to the ground in a heap, "I'll bring them back to Homestead. Let Alby deal with them."

Newt then jerks his head towards the lights, "come on then. Right now."

The gladers have no other choice but to obey the second-in-command with their eyes cast down and away from Gally's furious glare. Not that he notices. He's looking down at Henry, shoving him to the ground with one last threatening curse as the latter yelps and runs as far away as he possibly can.

It is then that Mai's knees give out and she crumples up like a broken doll, chest tight and breaths coming out in small gasps.

Gally turns to her and in his voice she hears a tinge of softness, "hey Greenie."

He closes the distance between them before leaning down so that they're face to face, "are you alright?"

The girl opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it once more, to realize that nothing can come out. Her limbs are frozen in place, her heart still racing like a horse against her chest. She can feel the tear stains on her cheeks, carving paths down her skin and maybe it's just the shock of it all that causes a sob to echo out of her throat.

She starts crying, and Gally's hand lands on her shoulder.

"Hey hey, it's fine. They're gone," his gentleness surprises her, for he's never been like this. He's not usually, not in their every day life. But sitting here with her as she cries her heart out makes her chest warm despite the earlier events, like a beacon of security, a barrier of protection against the world. That's how Gally feels to her.

Before she knows it, she's thrown herself at him, not caring that he still believes she's a guy. Grabbing a hold of his shirt with both hands, the girl doesn't hesitate to bury her face in his chest as she feels the Builder freeze.

It's only for a moment though, a tiny fraction of a second, before his arms go around her — they're hesitant, unsure — and settle on her back.

He gives her a few awkward pats. She can feel the tension along his neck.

"Right greenie. No need to cry," he says gruffly against her hair, but not pulling away when she nuzzles even closer still. His warmth and scent are addictive, they feel like home in a foreign place. Mai realizes she kind of likes it, "these shanks aren't gonna touch you again, not after Alby's punishment."

But Mai is in her own world, clinging to Gally's comfort like it's the only thing holding her in place, the only stability she has as the emotions tremble through her, courses through her chest and knots in her stomach. It's like a dam finally breaking open and so Gally realizes he has no other choice but to be here for a while, and so decides to pat her on the back, trying not to take note of how slim the Greenie is under his fingertips, how tiny and fragile, almost—

No. No. No. You are not going there.

Mai finally calms down after what seems to be like an eternity, her sobs dying out into sniffles. The Builder's hand has moved up to her head since, smoothing down over her short hair almost absentmindedly. He drops it like he's burnt himself upon realization, pulling a grimace as he does so.

She whispers out his name so softly he barely hears it. He looks down at her with a soft frown, one that's swimming with genuine concern, only to hear the girl say, "thank you for saving me."

He's about to reply when Mai interrupts him by pressing a kiss.

Right onto his cheek.

----

Mai realizes a bit too late what she's doing.

She jerks away at the same time that Gally's mouth drops open. The girl scrambles back in surprise, eyes wide as she holds up her hands in a defensive stance.

"I—I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me I—" her squeak dies out as she watches the said young man rub at his cheek, where her lips had been a few seconds prior. He's not looking at her, glaring down at the ground and a flush creeping up the back of his neck.

"Gally I—"

"Forget it."

He's already walking away so fast that Mai has to scramble to catch up to him. Her heart is galloping like a wild horse against her chest, but not for the same reason this time. She feels the permanent blush taking over her face as she tries to stutter through a bunch of excuses, "I'm so sorry Gally, I—It won't happen again it's just— you know, I was scared in the moment and I—"

"I said forget it Greenie," he snaps as he keeps walking.

Mai's shoulders slump. Great, she thinks to herself, way to get him disgusted with me.

The rest of the walk back to Homestead is quiet and Mai decides it's better not to interrupt the peace until they reach the Council room. The gladers responsible are already inside, Henry included. Mai can't help but wince and hide behind Gally's broad back when she feels his dirty eyes on her frame.

Alby is in the middle of giving them their punishment, "—three days in the Slammer, no food, and when you get back from there, you're all gonna be Slicers until you apologize to Mai. Sincerely." He adds coldly, "consider this a merciful punishment. I could've have you banished if I wanted."

The Gladers murmur out their thanks. Not Henry, whose beady eyes are still locked on Mai's frame.

"Mai's lying to us," he suddenly calls out. The room falls silent as all eyes drag to Henry.

Mai freezes on the spot. Oh no. Has she not been discreet enough? Is this what she thinks it is?

Will she be going into the Slammer too?

"What do you mean?" Asks Alby.

Newt is also frowning at the said glader, eyebrows kissing at the center as his gaze trails over to Mai.

"This—" Henry jabs a shaky finger into Mai's direction, "This is a girl! She's been lying to us this whole time!"

"What in the bloody world are you talking about?" Newt asks but it's too late. Everyone has already spun around to look at Mai and each passing second that goes by causes Mai's reality to shatter because the truth is coming out, and the truth— no matter how hard she tries to hide — is real.

Her eyes move from the disbelief in Newt's, to the confusion in Alby's, before finally landing on Gally's blue gaze. His are a stormy aquamarine, something like realization causing the color in his eyes to shift and widen.

She can't deal with it. Not with them all looking at her like she's a sick secret.

So she does what she knows best.

She runs.

———

The Council room erupts into chaos as soon as Mai sprints away like her life depends on it.

Gally's first, already striding to the door with purpose only to be stopped by a pair of arms.

"Wait," Alby holds onto him with his jaw clenched and tight, "Gally, stop."

"I—" but Gally's thoughts are scattered and nonsensical, the memories of the Greenie, all the shower nights and the suspicious behavior, that one time Mai claimed he had a stomach ache because he was hungover... everything is starting to make sense and he has no idea how to deal with it.

"Gally," Alby's voice brings him back and the Builder allows himself to be pushed into a vacant bench. His fists tighten at his sides as he glares into the ground, one hand unconsciously going up to rub at his face in growing exasperation.

Shit. He's already feeling a headache coming in.

Henry, on the other hand, seems to be delighted at the unfolding of events, "see?! i told you she was a girl! And now she's shuckin' scared for her life because she lied to all of us—"

"Shut up Henry," Newt interrupts, his voice shaking with so much restrained anger that it takes everyone by surprise, "you're still an asshole for what you did to her. So slim it or I'm throwing you headfirst into the maze."

That, coming from Newt, instantly causes the said boy to close his mouth. Alby advances towards him slowly, a certain kind of darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He feels like a predator ready to pounce on his prey and all too soon Henry starts squirming.

"What you said about Mai," Alby starts off slow, though the venom in his voice is unmistakable, "that's a very serious accusation, shank. Do you even know what you're saying?"

"I saw her!I swear I did and--"

"So you spied on her?" Gally's rage increased tenfold. He wants nothing more than to wring his petty neck. He feels Newt's hand on his shoulder, a reminder to stay composed, and tries to relax.

It doesn't work.

"Well--I--I mean I had to, to prove my point--" Henry's eyes dart back and forth between the Glade Leader and the Builder that looks like he's going to kill him and place his head on a pike, "listen, the point is, she's not who she says she is. She's a shuckin' liar, a traitor! She's the one that should be thrown into the Maze because she broke the rules!"

"We'll be the judge of that," Alby cuts him off sternly. He turns to Newt, "get these slintheads into the Slammer. And him--" he points at Henry, "he doesn't get out of there until we know what we're gonna do with him."

"What?!" Henry tries to flail away from the other Gladers circling around him to grab at his arms, "I've protected the Glade from this chick. We don't even know what she can do! If she's the only girl maybe she's hiding something--"

But Gally's had enough. His hand jerks out, grabbing a fistful of Henry's shirt before wrenching him close so that they're face to face with each other. And when he speaks, his voice is merely above a growl.

"Listen here, you slinthead," Henry can't help but let out a whimper when Gally tugs him even closer, teeth baring dangerously and eyes so narrow and cold they look merciless, "maybe she did have her reasons for lying to us. And even if she did, that doesn't give you the right to spy on her, or to take advantage of her like that," Gally snarls, "do you understand me?"

"Y--Yes," Henry stutters before a few other Gladers pull him away from the Builder's trembling, raging gaze that speaks volumes.

It is only when Alby's hand drops onto his shoulder that Gally realizes he's gone back into his thoughts without realizing that the Council room is now void of people.

"I think you should go and find Mai," Alby says gently, totally unlike how he'd been a few minutes earlier, "we can't seem to find him -- her."

Truth to be told, Gally wouldn't blame Mai for trying to get away from all this shit show when she's had enough to deal with in one evening. But it's still night and Gally's starting to worry about whether the guy -- girl -- will freeze to death. The Glade is known for being relentlessly cold at night time and if he remembered correctly, Mai had been wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt.

He searches everywhere. The showers, under the kitchen tables, amidst the hammocks. He even goes out of his way to light a torch as he ploughs through the forest with Newt and a sleepy Minho who'd been woken up for the occasion, to no avail. It seems that Mai has just disappeared into thin air and despite the fact that Gally tries to brush it off, he can't quite help the way his stomach knots itself into two at the thought of Mai being all alone in the dark.

That is, until he decides to prowl through the trees.

He finds her then, cooped up amidst a few branches a few feet above ground, high enough that no one would've normally noticed her presence. He catches sight of her tensing as he approaches, the black outline of her figure moving back slowly as if fearing the worst. So he calls out, just in case:

"Hey Greenie," he pauses, waiting. The figure stays immobile, "it's just me."

Nothing. Silence that tears through the open space with the only interruption being the whistle of trees and the groaning of metal from the maze in the distance. It feels like forever and Gally has half a mind to climb up there himself when she finally speaks.

"I'm sorry."

He squints up at her, "don't be stupid. Just get down."

"I've lied. Henry's right," she blurts out, "I am a girl, I just didn't know how to tell you all without you freaking out about it."

"So what?" Gally responds, "Now we know. Big deal. Now get down so we can go back to Homestead to get some sleep."

He inclines his lamp towards hers so that he catches a glimpse of her face, and sure enough, the fear etched into her features is one that is reminiscent of a doe caught in broad daylight, causing something in the pits of Gally's stomach to soften.

She's so fragile. How in the world had he not noticed it then?

No. He had noticed.

He just hadn't wanted it to be true.

"Come on Greenie," Gally murmurs out, extending a hand in the process, "are you gonna keep making me wait?"

"I never asked you to wait for me, or to look for me, for that matter," She shoots back, "you can go back to sleep there and I'll stay here."

"Greenie."

"Gally."

He lets out a puff of air, "don't make me come and get you myself."

A ghost of a goosebump shivers up her spine at his words before Mai finally lets out a sigh of her own, "alright fine. On one condition."

"What?"

"I--" she bites onto her lower lip, chews it for a few seconds before looking back at him shyly. When she speaks next, her voice has dropped to a soft murmur, "can I stay with you? I--I don't feel safe. Not tonight."

Gally's heart almost explodes. Here she is, looking like a pretty thing stranded up in those trees with those big brown eyes looking down with glistening tears, and she's asking if she can stay with him for the night. He wonders whether people die from heart attacks as a result of personal interactions because he swears he can feel his heart almost jumping out of his chest. His skin feels warm to the touch and he wouldn't be surprised if someone were to point out that he's blushing.

Nevertheless, he keeps his voice steady and tender when he answers, "yeah alright."

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fourthwingfan · 7 months

Text

Madness - Chapter 1

Warning: swear language, mentioned childhood trauma, and you know it's a war college so you should be prepared.

Note: I hope you will enjoy this chapter, I'm currently working on ch 2, there will be more excitment as the story goes on, pls bear with me I have so many ideas for this fanfic ;)

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.

—Article One, Section One

The Dragon Rider’s Codex

„You’re late.” says General Melgren, when I enter his office. He is staring out of the window, and didn’t turn around when he heard me closing the door.

„I apologise, but…” I try to defend myself.

„I dont’t care about your excuses. This is the Conscription Day and you will not fail.” he starts his lecture for the hundreth times.

As if he let me fail. I had been trained for this day since I was born. I am strong, he made sure of that. He doesen’t know the word love since my mother’s death. I never once received a kind word from him. For me he’s a monster, not a father. I hate him.

„Yes, General.” I answer, while I’m tightening my grip on my canvas rucksack.

„Go, and don’t forget what’s your duty. And do not forget that you are a Melgren! Do not bring more shame on this name, that you already had. The Riders Quadrant the only place the suitable to hide your…disfunction.”

What a kind man, I thought. That’s not my fault that I was born this way.

„Yes, General.”

„You’re dismissed.”

With his last word I walk out of the office and I go to wait for Violet in front of her mother’s office. Voices rose from beyond the closed door. They arguing, again.

It’s not a surprise beacuse everybody knows that Violet Sorrengail isn’t meant to be a Rider. She’s small and fragile. The complete opposite of a Rider. Only General Sorrengail is blind to this fact.

Basgiath War College is famous for its cuelty throughout Navarre. Nonetheless thousands of twenty-year-olds waiting to enter their chosen quadrant. I am one of them.

Every Navarrian officer, whether they choose to be schooled as healers, scribes, infantry, or riders is molded within these cruel walls over three years, honed into weapons to secure our mountainous borders from the violent invasion attempts of the kingdom of Poromiel and their gryphon riders. The weak don’t survive here, especially not in the Riders Quadrant. The dragons make sure of that.

I nearly dropped my rucksack when General Sorrengail’s door opened with such a force that’s matching Mira Sorrengail’s temper. She’s Violets older sister by six years.

Mira Sorrengail is the epitome of the perfect Rider. She has short hair to match the standard Rider’s length. She was dressed in black leather and carried her battle worn rucksack in her hand. She was elegant and lethal.

„It seems that General Sorrengail didn’t change her mind about Violet and the Riders Quadrant.” I say when she realises that I was waiting for them.

„No. She’s batshit crazy.” Mira says without a care that the guards might tell her what she said.

„Don’t worry, I’ll be there for her. I can’t guarantee that she will graduate without a scratch, but I will do my best to protect her.” I try to calm Mira.

In this moment the door opened again a whole lot gentler then before. It was Violet.

We practically grew up together, because my father always left me here in Basgiath when he had left to fulfill his duty as one of the most powerful Generals.

Violet was a kind, gentle but sharp tounged woman. She dosen’t fit any of the criteria that makes someone suitable for a life of a Rider.

„Hi Aelin.”

„Hi, Vi. How are you?” I ask her refering to the talk with her mother.

„We don’t have time for a chit chat. Let’s go. We only have an hour before all candidates have to report, and I saw thousands waiting outside the gates when I flew over.” Mira says as she starts walking, leading us down the stone staircase and through the hallways to Violet’s room.

„She’s fucking efficient, I’ll give you that.” Mira mutters

All of Violet’s personal items have been packed into crates that now sit stacked in the corner.

„I was hoping I’d be able to talk her out of it. You were never meant for the Riders Quadrant.” Mira says while emptying Violet’s rucksack to see what she packed that makes it look so heavy.

„So you’ve mentioned. Repeatedly.” Says Violet while she stares at her sister with daggers in her eyes. „And what are you doing? It took me the whole night to choose what I want to bring with me.”

„Sorry Vi, but your pack is almost as heavy as you. It would be impossible to carry it across the Parapet, even for me, and I’m stronger than you.” I wince as she try to catch her books that Mira deemed unnecessary.

„Hey, I want those books. You can’t throw all of them away.” Shouths Violet.

„What’s this for then?” She asks holding up one of the books.

„Obviously killing people. If my memory correct that’s a book about poisonous herbs” I say to at least save one of the books for Violet.

„I’m surprised that you even tried to read a book” Replies Mira not even paying attention to what she says.

„I’m not illiterate Mira. I just have problems with reading and you know that too.” I cringe because I really hate this topic.

„Shit, Aelin I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” Sighs Mira, then looks at Violet to divert the subject.

„Take off those horrible boots, they are a death trap. You’ll slip right off the Parapet with those smooth soles. I have a set of rubber-bottomed rider boots made for you just in case.” States Mira while giving the boots and black leather clothes to her sister. „Now, get changed while I sort out the rest of this mess.”

„And you…” She begins and check my clothes if I too need to change them.

„You’re set.” Mira states in a surprised tone.

„Yeah, you know my father. He never let me embarass him by falling off the Parapet beacuse of something this trivial.” I said as I roll my eyes.

„Than at least he did one thing right in his life.” Mira says harshly while she finish packing into Violet’s rucksack.

„Rider black is supposed to be earned. Someone’s going to say we didn’t earn them.” I hear Violet refer to her clothes and mine, when she emerges from the bathroom in her new attire.

„You’re a Sorrengail. Fuck what they say.” Responds Mira while she laces Violet into a vest-style corset over her shirt.

„Here, this is yours. Put it on too.” Mira say and I get a corset that matches with Violet’s one.

„What is this?” I ask while trying putting it on.

„Something I designed,” she explains „I had it specially made for you two with Teine’s scales sewn in, so be careful with it.”

„Dragon scales?” I jerk my head back to look at her. „How the hell? Teine is huge.”

„I happen to know a rider whose power can make big things very small.” A devious smile plays across her lips.” „And smaller things… much, much bigger.”

„How much bigger?” I ask laughing.

„It’s a secret.” She says while motioning Violet to sit in front of her.

„You’re the worst.” says Violet.

„Oh come on Vi, don’t tell me that you aren’t curious.” I tease her.

„Head forward. You should have cut your hair.” Mira says while she pulls the strainds tight against Violets head and resume weaving. „It’s a liability in sparring and in battle, not to mention being a giant target. No one else has a hair that fades out silver like this, and they’ll already be aiming for you.”

„You know very well the natural pigment seems to gradually abandon it no matter the length.” Says Violet with defiance. „Besides, other than everyone else’s concern for the shade, my hair is the only thing about me that’s perfectly healthy. Cutting it would feel like I’m punishing my body for finally doing something well, and it’s not like I feel the need to hide who I am. Besides it’s not like Aelin will blend into the environment either.”

„So what’s your excuse for not cutting your hair?” Mira asks with raised eyebrows. „Because I know you have one too. You two always come up with something to get out of trouble.”

„I won’t cut it. I can braid it tightly to not distract me in a fight, besides it’s not like I resemble the General. My hair and my eyes come from my mother.” I say while looking into a mirror on one of the walls.

It’s true. I’m nothing like my father. I look just like my mother, as they say. She was a beauty and the only person whom my father loved in his life. Unfortunately that caused her death.

When she was in her last months in the pregnency, she was attacked by a group who wanted to eliminate the General using my mother. But she was a warrior and tried to save us by escaping. That was when someone injured her and left her to die. When they found my mother she was dying. Pregnant with me. The healers tried to save her but they are not gods. They can’t bring back the dead. They were only able to save me. These are the only facts that I know because nobody want to speak about my mother in fear to anger the General.

Between the few minutes that my mother had died and I was saved, happened a lot of things to my body. My hair is supposed to be a natural golden color but has strands of silvery white, just like my eyes. They should be golden but there are tiny circular parts around my iris where the silvery white color appears. The healers said that it was due to lack of oxygen. My father can’t even look at me because I remind him of my mother and my unique coloring is remind him of her brutal death and that he couldn’t save her. I think this is the main reason that he hates me. The other is another consequence of the circumstance of my birth.

When I was old enough that the General brought tutors to start my education, it turned out that my brain suffered some damage too. I was dyslexic. It doesen’t mean that I can’t read, it’s just really-really difficult. As if the words are running away from my eyes, everytime I try to read something. It doesen’t matter if it’s a short or long text. My memory is great enough that I can remember a lot of things after hearing it but not everything. That makes studying a whole lot of harder. The General ordered that we keep it a secret, so outside my father, and the tutors, the Sorrengail children are the only ones who know it. This is the other reason why the General said in his office that I bring shame on the Melgren name.

„Well then there’s nothing that I can say to change either of your mind.” Sighs Mira. „Then listen to me well.” As she starts to summarize years of knowledge into fifteen harried minutes, barely pausing to breathe.

„Be observant. Quiet is fine, but make sure you notice everything and everyone around you to your advantage. You’ve read the Codex?” Mira asks

„A few times.” Violet answers.

„I tried but I don’t remember everything.” I shrug.

„Then Violet will help you memorize it once you begin your classes. Then you should know that the other riders can kill you any time, and the cutthroat cadets will try. Fewer cadets means better odds at Threshing. There are never enough dragons willing to bond, and anyone reckless enough to get themselves killed isn’t worthy of a dragon anyway.”

„Except when sleeping. It’s an executable offense to attack any cadet while sleeping. Article Three-„ cites Violet.

„Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe at night. Sleep in this if you can.” She taps the stomach of my corset. „Both of you.”

„There’s hidden sheaths sewn diagonally along the rib cage in your corset. For your daggers.” Continue Mira.

„I only have four.” Says Violet, then she grabs them from the floor and slide it into the sheaths.

„I have four and a sword.” I say to Mira while pointing at them at my ribs and thighs, the sword is strapped to my back.

„That’s fine. You’ll earn more.” She nods „Wear the armor at all times. Keep your daggers on you at all times.” She points to the sheaths down her thighs.

„Someone’s going to say we didn’t earn them.” Violet says. Clearly she worries too much.

„Come on Vi, remember what Mira said. You’re a Sorrengail. Fuck what they say. We will survive no matter what!” I say trying to calm her down a bit.

„Exactly. You’re both famous Generals daughters. A Sorrengail and a Melgren. You can do what you have to do to survive and never forget that.” Agrees Mira with me. „There’s no such thing as cheating once you climb the turret. There’s only survival and death.” The bell chimes – only thirty minutes left. She swallows. „It’s almost time. Ready?”

„No.” Replies quickly Violet.

„My hands are trembling.” I show them that indeed my hands are visibly shaking.

„Neither was I ready.” A wry smile lifts a corner of Mira’s mouth. „And I’d spent my life trainig for it, just like Aelin.”

„We’re not going to die today.” States Violet and slings the rucksack over her shoulder.

The halls of the central, administrative part of the fortress are eerily quiet as we wind our way down through various staircases, but the noise from outside grows louder the lower we descend. Through the windows, I see thousands of candidates hugging their loved ones and saying their goodbyes ont he grassy fields just beneath the main gate.

From what I’ve witnessed every year, most families hold on to their candidates right up to the very last bell. The four roads leading to the fortress are clogged with horses and wagons, especially where they converge in front of the college, but it’s the empty ones at the edge of the fields that make me nervous.

They’re for the bodies.

Right before we round the last corner that will lead tot he courtyard, Mira stops.

„What is – Oof.” I hear Violet’s muffled voice when Mira yanks her against her chest, hugging her tight in the relative privacy of the corridor.

„Aelin, you too. Come here.” Says Mira as Violet makes room for me, and then extends her arms.

„I love both of you. Remember everything I’ve told you. Don’t become another name on the death roll. Both of your lives are equally important. Do everything you can to stay alive.” Her voice shakes, and I wrap my arms around her, squeezing tight.

„We’ll be alright. I’ll be alright.” I promise.

She nods, her chin bumping against the top of my head. „I know. Let’s go.”

That’s all she says before pulling away and walking into the crowded courtyard just inside the main gate to the fortress. Instructors, commanders, and even General Sorrengail and General Melgren are gathered informally, waiting for the madness outside the walls to become the order within. Out of all the doors in the war college, the main gate is the only one no cadet will enter today, since each quadrant has its own entrance and facilities. Hell, the riders have their own citadel.

„Find Dain Aetos,” Mira tells us as we cross through the courtyard, heading for the open gate.

„Dain?” Asks Violet with a smile. I think she has a huge crush on him, but didn’t admit it yet. I don’t think he’s such a good person as Vi thinks, but I was never that close with him. We always avoided each others company. There’s something in his eyes that’s makes me uneasy.

„I’ve only been out of the quadrant for three years, but from what I hear, he’s doing well, and he’ll keep both of you safe.”

„As if I want to go near him” I say silently

„It doesn’t matter Aelin, just stay alive.” Scolds me Mira

„And you. Don’t smile like that,” she turns to Violet. „He’ll be second-year.” She shakes a finger at her. „Don’t mess around with second-years. If you want to get laid, and you should” – she lifts her brows – „often, considering you never know what the day brings, then screw around in your own year. Nothing is worse than cadets gossiping that you’ve slept your way to safety. This applies to you too Aelin.”

„So I’m free to take any of the first-years I want to bed,” I say with a smirk. „Just not the second- or the third-years.”

„Exactly.” She winks.

„Then we should definitely find the handsome ones. This is our first task Vi.” I joke with her, in hope that she at least smiles because she seems a little greener the longer she looks at the wagons at the road.

„Let’s cross the Parapet first Aelin.” Says Violet

„Sure Vi.” I wink at her.

We cross through the gates, leaving the fortress, and join the organized chaos beyond.

Each of Navarre’s six provinces has sent this year’s share of candidates for military service. Some volunteer. Some are sentenced as punishment. Most are conscripted. The only thing we have in common here at Basgiath is that we passed the entrance exam – both written and an agility test – which means at least we won’t end up as fodder for the infantry on the front line.

The agility test was easy with someone like me who had the „luck” to train under General Melgren’s watchful eyes. But the written exam was a nightmare. I barely passed despite the fact that I practiced for non-stop before it. It’s just the fact that I’m not like the other normal candidates. Give me a weapon and I’ll know how to use it. Bring me an opponent and I will figure out how to win. But I just can’t will my barin to function normally. Which my father likes to remind me all the time.

The atmosphere is tense with anticipation as Mira leads me along the worn cobblestone path toward the southern turret.

The majority of the crowd moves to line up at the base of the northern turret – the entrance to the Infantry Quadrant. Some of the mass heads toward the gate behind us – the Healer Quadrant that consumes the southern end of the college. Then I spot a few taking the central tunnel into the archives below the fortress to join the Scribe Quadrant. Violet wanted to be a scribe for her whole life. But General Sorrengail has other plans.

The entrance to the Riders Quadrant is nothing more than a fortified door at the base of the tower, that we rider candidates will climb.

We join the riders’ line, waiting to sign in, and then I glance up.

High above us, crossing the river-bottomed valley that divides the main college from the even higher, looming citadel of the Riders Quadrant on the southern ridgeline, is the Parapet, the stone bridge that’s about to separate rider candidates from cadets over the next few hours.

„And to think, I’ve been preparing for the scribe’s written exam all these years.” Says Violet in thick sarcastic voice. „I should have been playing on a balance beam.”

„Believe me Vi, I’ve been playing on a balance beam for years but I don’t think that’s the same as the Parapet.” I say laughing. „However I’m a little excited about this.”

Mira ignores us as the line moves forward and candidates disappear through the door. „Don’t let the wind sway your steps.”

Two candidates ahead of us, a woman sobs as her partner rips her away from a young man, the couple breaking from the line, retreating in tears down the hillside toward the crowd of loved ones lining the roads. There are no other parents ahead of us, only a few dozen candidates moving toward the roll-keepers.

„Keep your eyes on the stones ahead of you and don’t look down,” Mira says, the lines of her face tightening. „Arms out for balance. If the pack slips, drop it. Better it falls than you.”

„Maybe I should let them go first,” whispers Violet.

„No,” Mira answers. „The longer you wait on those steps” – she motions toward the tower – „the greater your fear has a chance to grow. Cross the Parapet before the terror owns you.”

„Mira’s right and you know it Vi. We will be alright. I’ll be there with you until we cross this damn thing.” I try to cheer her up. „If you want I’ll be the first, than you can watch and copy me.”

„Thanks, Aelin.” Smiles Violet.

The line moves, and the bell chimes again. It’s eight o’clock.

Sure enough, the crowd of thousands behind us has separated fully into their chosen quadrants, all lined up to sign the roll and begin their service.

„Focus,” Mira snaps, and I whip my head forward. „This might sound harsh, but don’t seek friendships in there. Forge alliances. Both of you.”

There are only two ahead of us now – a woman with a full pack, and a man with the woman crying over him. He’s carrying an even bigger rucksack.

I look around the pair toward the roll-keeping desk, and my eyes widen.

„Is he…?” Whispers Violet.

Mira glances and mutters a curse. „A separatist’s kid? Yep. See that shimmering mark that starts on the top of his wrist? It’s a relic from the rebellion.”

„A dragon did that?” She asks.

I nod. „Yes. General Melgren told me once, that it was his dragon that did it to all of them when he executed their parents. Nothing like punishing the kids to deter more parents from committing treason. Most of the marked kids who carry rebellion relics are from Tyrrendor.”

It always seemed cruel to me. Punishing the children for their parents actions.

In this moment the blood drains from Mira’s face, and she grips the straps of my pack, turning me to face her. „I just remembered.” Her voice drops, and we lean in to hear her better. „Stay the hell away from Xaden Riorson.”

That name…

„That Xaden Riorson,” she confirms, fear lacing her gaze. „He’s a third-year, and he will kill you the second he finds out who you are.” She lifts her gaze to Violet. „Both of you.”

„His father was the Great Betrayer. He led the rebellion,” Violet says quietly. „What is Xaden doing here?”

„All the children of the leaders were conscripted as punishment for their parents’ cirmes,” I murmur. Yep, my father was really a monster.

Mira whispers as we shuffle sideways, moving with the line. „Mom told me they never expected Riorson to make it past the parapet. Then they figured a cadet would kill him, but once his dragon chose him…” She shakes her head. „Well, there’s nothing much that can be done then. He’s risen to the rank of wingleader.”

„That’s bullshit.” Violet seethes.

„He’s sworn allegiance to Navarre, but I don’t think that will stop him where you’re concerned. Once you get across the Parapet – because you will make it across – find Dain. He’ll put you in his squad, and we’ll just hope it’s far from Riorson.” She grips my straps tighter. „Stay. Away. From. Him.” She knew me well enough to feel the need to repeat it. I don’t like this whole rebellion relic thing. This punishment is too curel.

„Roger that.” I say to calm her down.

„Noted.” Nods Violet.

„Next,” a voice calls from behind the wooden tablet hat bears the rolls of the Riders Quadrant. The marked rider I don’t know is seated next to a scribe, whose eyebrows rise over his weathered face. „Violet Sorrengail?”

She nods, and picking up the quill she sing her name on the roll.

„But I thought you were meant for the Scribe Quadrant,” he says softly.

„General Sorrengail chose otherwise,” I answer him.

„Melgren?” He asks.

„Yes, my name is Aelin Melgren.” I say then I sign my name on the next empty line on the roll.

„You look so much like your late mother,” He says while sadness fills his eyes.

„You knew my mom?” I ask amazed.

He turned his head to Violet „Pity. You had so much promise.” So he knew my mother, but won’t say a thing. As usual. But I just want to know what she was like.

„By the gods,” the rider next tot he scribe says. „You’re Mira Sorrengail?” His jaw drops, and I can smell his hero worship from here.

„I am.” She nods. „This is my sister, Violet. And this is Aelin Melgren. They’ll be first-years.”

„If your sister survives the Parapet.” Someone behind me snickers. „Wind just might blow her right off.”

„Shut up, idiot. You have a higher chance falling of the Parapet than her. It seems you don’t have a brain to think with, if you don’t know to not interfere in the adults conversations.” I answer angrily.

„You fought at Strythmore,” the rider behind the desk says with awe. „They gave you the Order of the Talon for taking out the battery behind enemy lines.”

„As I was saying.” Mira puts a hand at our shoulders. „This is my sister, Violet and our friend Aelin Melgren.”

„You know the way.” The scribe nods and points to the open door into the turret. It looks ominously dark in there, and I fight the urge to run away.

„I know the way,” she assures him, leading us past the table so the snickering asshole behind me can sign the roll.

We pause at the doorway and turn toward each other.

„Don’t die, Violet. I’d hate to be an only child. And you too Aelin, I consider you my sister so stay alive.” She grins and walks away, sauntering past the line of gawking candidates as word spreads of exactly who she is and what she’s done.

„Though to live up to that,” the woman ahead of us says from just inside the tower.

„It is,” Violet agrees.

„But at least she’s a good sister.” I say laughing.

My eyes adjust quickly to the dim light coming in through the equidistant windows along the curved staircase.

„Sorrengail, and Melgren as in…?” the woman asks, looking over her shoulder as we begin to climb the hundreds of stairs.

„Yep.” There’s no railing, so I gesture Violet to keep her hand on the stone wall as we rise higher and higher.

„The generals?” the blond guy ahead of us asks.

„The same ones,” I answer, offering him a quick smile.

„Wow. Nice leathers, too.” He smiles back.

„Thanks. They’re courtesy of our family.”

„I wonder how many candidates have fallen off the edge of the steps and died before they even reach the Paraphet,” the woman says, glancing down the center of the staircase as we climb higher.

„Two last year.” Violet replies immediately. „Well, three if you count the girl one of the guys landed on.”

The woman’s brown eyes flare, but she turns back around keeps climbing. „How many steps are there?” she asks.

„Two hundred and fifty,” Violet answers.

„Oh god Vi, I love your brain.” I said laughing, then we climb in silence for another five minutes.

„Not too bad,” she says with a bright smile as we near the top and the line comes to a halt. „I’m Rhiannon Matthias, by the way.”

„Dylan,” the blond guy responds with an enthusiastic wave.

„Violet.” Vi give them a tense smile.

„Aelin.” I say and wink at Vi, ignoring Mira’s earlier suggestion that we avoid friendships and only forge alliances.

„I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this day.” Dylan shifts his pack on his back. „Can you believe we actually get to do this? It’s a dream come true.”

„I can’t fucking wait.” Rhiannon’s smile widens. „I mean, who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?”

„Do your parents approve?” Dylan asks. „Because my mom’s been begging me to change my mind for months. I keep telling her that I’ll have better chances for advancement as rider, but she wanted me to enter the Healer Quadrant.”

„Mine always knew I wanted this, so they’ve been pretty supportive. Besides, they have my twin to dote on. Raegan’s already living her dream, married and expecting a baby.” Rhiannon glances back at us.

„What about you? Let me guess. With names like Melgren and Sorrengail, I bet you were the first to volunteer this year.”

„Yes, I wanted to come here since I can remember.” I say with a smile. „I’m really excited about this. I mean do you see the dragons? They magnificent.”

„I hear ya girl.” Says Rihannon as we high five. „What about you Violet?”

„I was more like volun-told.”

„Gotcha.”

„And riders do get way better perks than other officers,” Violet says to Dylan as the line moves upward again. The snickering candidate behind me catches up, sweating and red. Look who isn’t snickering now. „Better pay, more leniency with the uniform policy,” she continues. No one gives a shit what riders wear as long as it’s black. The only rules that apply to riders are the ones in the Codex.

„And the right to call yourself a supreme badass,” Rhiannon adds.

„That too,” I agree. „Pretty sure they issue you an ego with your flight leathers.”

„Plus I’ve heard that riders are allowed to marry sooner than the other quadrants,” Dylan adds.

„True. Right after graduation. If we survie.” Says Violet. „I think it has something to do with wanting to continue bloodlines.”

„Or because we tend to die sooner than the other quadrants,” Rhiannon muses.

„I’m not dying,” Dylan says with way more confidence than I feel – however I practiced for this for my whole life – as he tugs a necklace from under his tunic to reveal a ring dangling from the chain. „She said it would be bad luck to propose before I left, so we’re waiting until graduation.” He kisses the ring and tucks the chain back under his collar. „The next three years are going to be long ones, but they’ll be worth it.”

„You might make it across the Parapet,” the guy behind us sneers. „This one here is a breeze away from the bottom of the ravine.”

I roll my eyes. He doesn’t learn.

„Shut up and focus on yourself,” Rhiannon snaps, her feet clicking against the stone as we climb.

The top comes into sight, the doorway full of muddled light. Those clouds are going to wreak havoc on us, and we have to be on the other side of the Parapet before they do.

Another step, another tap of Rhiannon’s feet.

„Let me see your boots,” Says Violet quietly, probably hoping that the jerk behind me can’t hear her.

Her brows puckers, and confusion fills her brown eyes, but she shows her the shoes. They’re smooth, just like the ones Violet was wearing earlier. My stomach sinks like a rock. I know what she will do.

The line starts moving again, pausing when we’re only a few feet from the opening. „What size are your feet?” She asks.

„What?” Rhiannon blinks at her.

„Your feet. What size are they?”

„Eight,” she answers, two lines forming between her brows.

„I’m seven,” Vi says quickly. „It will hurt like hell, but I want you to take my left boot. Trade with me.”

„I’m sorry?” She looks at her like she has lost her mind.

„These are rider boots. They’ll grip the stone better. Your toes will be scrunched and generally miserable, but at least you’ll have a shot at not falling off if the rain hits.”

„Oh hell, don’t you dare Violet Sorrengail,” I hiss at her. „Just minutes ago I promised your sister that you will survive this damn Parapet, and now you want to throw away your best chance? Absouletly no.

„I give you my left boot. It’s the same size.” I say to Rihannon.

„What? No, that was my idea.” Whispers Violet.

„I know, but I will do it.” I reply. „Now hurry up, we don’t have time. It’s almost our turn.”

Rhiannon purses her lips in debate for a second, then agrees, and we swap left boots. I barely finish lacing up before the line moves again.

The top of the turret is bare, the crenelations of stone rising and falling along the circular structure at the height of my chest and doing nothing to obscure the view. The ravine and its river below suddenly feel very, very far. Every trial in the quadrant – including this one – is designed to test a cadet’s ability to ride. If someone can’t manage to walk the windy length of the slim stone bridge, then they sure as hell can’t keep their balance and fight on the back of a dragon.

And as for the death rate? I guess every other rider thinks the risk is worth the glory – or has the arrogance to think they won’t fall.

I breath deeply as I walk the edge behind Rhiannon, and in front of Violet, my fingers skimming the stonework as we wind our way toward the parapet.

Three riders wait at the entrance, which is nothing more than a gaping hole in the wall of the turret. One with ripped-off sleeves records names as candidates step out onto the treacherous crossing. Another, who’s shaved all his hair with the exception of a strip down the top center, instructs Dylan as he moves into position, patting his chest like the ring hidden there will bring him luck.

The third turns in my direcion and my heart simply…stops.

He’s tall, with windblown black hair and dark brows. The line of his jaw is strong and covered by warm tawny skin and dark stubble, and when he folds his arms across his torso, the muscles in his chest and arms ripple, moving in a way that makes me swallow. And his eyes… His eyes are the shade of gold-flecked onyx. The contrast is startling, jawdropping even – everything about him is. His features are so harsh that they look carves, and yet they’re astonishingly perfect, like an artist worked a lifetime sculpting him, and at least a year of that was spent on his mouth.

He’s the most esquisite man I’ve ever seeen.

Even the diagonal scar that bisects his left eyebrow and marks the top corner of his cheek only makes him hotter. Flaming hot. Scorching hot. Gets-you-into-trouble-and-you-like-it level of hot. Suddenly, I know that I won’t take Mira’s advice that not to fuck around outside my year group.

„See you girls on the other side!” Dylan says over his shoulder with an excited grin before stepping onto the parapet, his arms spread wide.

„Ready for the next one, Riorson?” the rider with the ripped sleeves says.

Xaden Riorson?

„You ready for this, Sorrengail? I think Melgren is fine, but you seems a little pale.” Rhiannon says moving forward.

The black-haired rider snaps his gaze to mine, turning fully toward me, then he looks onto Violet. That’s when I see it, the rebellion relic. It start at his bare left wrist, then disappears under his black uniform to appear again at his collar, where it stretches and swirls up his neck, stopping at his jawline.

„Oh shit,” I whisper, and his eyes snapped back to mine, as if he can hear me over the howl of wind that rips at my secured braid.

„Sorrengail? Melgren?” He steps toward us, and I look up… and up.

Good gods, I barely reach his collarbone. He’s massive. He has to be more than four inches over six feet tall.

I nod once, while a I make sure that I stand before Violet. To my movement the shining onyx of his eyes transforms to cold, unadulterated hatred. I can almost taste the loathing wafting off him like a bitter cologne.

„Aelin?” Rhiannon asks, moving forward.

„You’re the Generals daughters.” His voice deep and accusatory.

„You’re Fen Riorson’s son,” Violet counters behind me.

Xaden sucks in a deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw flexes once. Twice. „Your mother captured my father, and her father executed him.”

„Your father killed my older brother. Seems like we’re even.” Oh gods Violet, just shut up please, I beg in my mind.

„Hardly.” His glaring gaze strokes over me like he’s memorizing every detail or looking for any weakness.

I hold his glare, as if winning this staring competition will gain us safe entrance to the quadrant instead of crossing the Parapet behind him. Either way, I’m getting across. I promised to Mira that both of us will be safe on the other side.

His hands clench into fists, and he tenses.

I prepare for the strike, if I have to protect Violet. He might want to throw us off this tower, but I won’t make it easy for him.

„You all right?” Rhiannon asks, her gaze jumping between Xaden and me.

He glances at her. „You’re friends?”

„We met on the stairs,” she says, squaring her shoulders.

He looks down, noting our mismatched boots, and arches a brow. His hands relax. „Interesting.”

Fuck, Violet and her big heart.

„Are you going to kill us?” Asks Violet behind me.

„Shit, Violet just shut up please.” I hiss at Vi. „I don’t think it is a good idea to tempt someone throwing us off, who is bigger and stronger then us. I suppose you just have a death wish with pissing him off.” I facepalmed.

His gaze clashes with mine as the sky opens and rain falls in a deluge, soaking my hair, my leathers, and the stones around us in seconds.

A scream rends the air, and we jerk our attention to the Parapet just in time to see Dylan slip.

Violet gasps behind me.

He catches himself, hooking his arms over the stone bridge as his feet kick beneath him, scrambling for a purchase that isn’t there.

„Pull yourself up, Dylan!” Rhiannon shouts.

„Oh gods!” In the corner of my eyes I see that Violet’s hand flies to cover her mouth. That’s when Dylan loses his grip on the water-slick stone and falls, disappearing from view. The wind and rain steal any sound his body might make in the valley below.

Xaden never takes his eyes from me, watching silently with a look I can’t interpret.

„Why would I waste my energy killing you when the Parapet will do it for me?” A wicked smile curves his lips. „Your turn Melgren.”

Fucking handsome bastard.

#xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #the fourth wing #the empyrean #xaden riorson #violet sorrengail #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #dragons #fanfiction #liam mairi

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 8 months

Text

corrupt!Toji

A/N: this is obviously a bit dark seeing as that's who Toji is. Can only imagine what corrupt!Toji would get into..

corrupt!Toji is whole different species. Not really a vessel per se.. The curse wasn't strong enough to posses him; Toji completely consumed the entity. But clearly it didn't agree with him. Fuckin guy was more abrasive and aggressive than ever. "Toji, stop! Let em go. He didn't mean it that way and you know it!" You yank at Toji, who's currently got his son pinned to a wall outside the school. He looks at you, large hand locked round Megumi's throat squeezin as he dangles him a few feet from the ground. "Yeah? Is that what I know? Think I only know what I can see.. And what I saw was this lil spit fucks hands wrap round your waist. My waist." Toji turns back to Megumi, who's gasping for air and clawing at his hold. "Now in my opinon, sounds like someone has a fuckin death wish, but.. I dont think y/n would ever forgive me if I killed my own spawn." The way he sneers the last word sends shivers up your spine. Toji slams his fist into Megumi's gut before tossin him to the ground like a rag. "So a warning will have ta suffice: hands off on what belongs to me or.. Die." Poor boy's left gasping in the dirt, clutching his stomache as Toji drags you away by your arm. "And you.. I think you love pissin me off. Gonna teach you some fuckin manners, y/n."

corrupt!Toji only loves one thing as much as he loves you: money. He'll do anything for it but ofcourse usually just sticks to assassination. And Toji doesn't care what you think about his line of work. "How long will you be gone this time?" In nothing but a silk robe, hands on your hips, watchin him pack to leave on yet another murderous voyage. "Don't fuckin start, woman." Doesn't even bother lookin up from his duffel as he growls at you. "I'm not startin anything. Just wanna know when you'll be done slicing up innocent civilians." That makes your deranged ass man toss his head back, laughing way too fuckin hard. "I don't kill civilians, y/n. Where's the fuckin fun in that?" Your eyes narrow at his back. "You're a fuckin monster." He stands before he's nose to nose with you in half a second. "And yet.. You don't leave." He makes you so nervous yet arousal starts to creep through, pussy clenchin once at the way his eyes trail from yours down your body slowly. "Can't leave is more like it. Think we both know you'd never let that happen." Toji kneels, lifting your leg to his shoulder. You fist at his hair, robe falling open as he grips your waist to hold you steady and hums in agreement at your words. "Tomato, tomato." He says before suckin your clit between his lips.

corrupt!Toji is a master manipulator that takes pride in your submission. Loves to trick you into thinkin you've wronged him so he can put you in your place: Waking up from your nap startled from a pressure over mouth; a muscled arm scoops you up and turns you on your belly, unyielding pecs plastered against your back and holding you to the bed. He's naked and hard against you, precum formin a wet spot on the back of your skimpy satin black nightgown. "You think I forgot what you did? What you let him do to you?" Toji"s snarl at your ear is just as disorienting as his misdirected anger. He's been gone on his trip for almost two weeks and you had no idea he'd be back today. Definitely didn't know Toji would come home upset. It's you who should be angry at how he's behaving but apologies bubble from your lips instead, even before you know what's going on. "Shut the fuck up. Not gonna let you play that innocent shit with me this time." Toji's hand leaves your mouth to reach around and squeeze your throat. Cock twitchin against your ass listening to you pant and whine. "Fuckin let him hug you y/n. What's next? Gonna let my son fuck you? Hm?" You shake your head no, scratching at his grip and gasping for air. "Lying fuckin slut. Know you want him. And there's no way he or any of those weaklings could ever resist you. So how bout this?" Toji's free hand slides over your ass, slapping each cheek before dipping lower to play in your slit. Your moist, and more importantly.. Hating yourself for starting to get wet. "I'm gonna fuck you in front of my son. Show him that he'll never get a taste of the best pussy that's ever gifted this wretched world. Then maybe I'll think about forgiving you." He leans back, using his grip on your throat to toss you on your back. It's then your able look upside down at see Megumi, bruised and gagged, tied to a chair. He stares at you, completely incapacitated. You know instantly he won't be able to esape himself. "Toji! Y-you can't! He's your-" Smack! Your head snaps to the side from the impact of his slap, tears welling up in your y/e/c eyes. Toji grabs your jaw and forces you to look back at him. "I can do whatever I fuckin want. You really got some nerve." He stands up and walks to the foot of the bed, snatching you up by your hair. Points his dick at your red cheek as he strokes nice and slow. Megumi weakly struggles to break free, wants to save you but feels so helpless. "Tell me your sorry- mmmfuck.. And I might not kill your little friend." "I'm sorry Toji! So sorry. Shouldn't have l-let anyone touch me.. Know better.." Toji speeds up his short firm strokes, moaning and pullin you closer to his cock. "And why is that?" "Cause I'm yours. Tojis p-property." "Good giiiirl!" Toji groans, slipping the head of his dick between your lips and cumming with a grunt of your name. Thinks he might've cum more than usual when he notices how hard Megumi is. Wonders if you notice. Then again, how could you? You're too busy pressin your thighs together, clit throbbing as he spurts across your tongue twice. Then Toji"s pullin out, huffin as he finishes nuttin on your face. Three strong blasts that shower you in thick white drops. Both men groan at the sight, the latter leaning to kiss and lick at your lips. Megumi is so torn: wants to save you from your vile boyfriend but so entranced with your absolute submission. You on the other hand are burning with shame, cum dripping from your face to the sheets. Not at all surprised when Toji's nasty ass sucks some up and spits into your mouth. "Hold it. Lemme see.. Good girl. Now, before I fuck you.. Go give your BFF a nice sweet kiss." He's pure evil, smiling sinisterly when you get up without a word and make your way to Megumi. He's lookin up at you with wide eyes, swallowing hard as his gaze drops to you cum slicked mouth. "Sorry, Gumi." You whisper, holding at his shoulders as you bend to press your lips to his gagged mouth.

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vigilskeep · 2 months

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Why don't you think Cal's gonna do the ritual?

loves morrigan, but has long since learned not to necessarily trust the people he loves

has already damned one son just by being his father, and i mentioned recently that i think the stigma against harm to children in orzammar culture is profound, let alone the stigma against failing to protect your own children

has just gotten to grips with how much it fucked him up to be raised by a mother who cared more about the purpose he had been born for than about him as a person, which is exactly what morrigan’s intentions at the time seem to be for this child

will have zero interest in preserving an old god soul which, probably regardless of morrigan’s explanations, he would see as part and parcel of his people’s great enemy that must be destroyed

magic is something he has little experience with except as something to fight. he doesn’t fear it as a whole, but he knows he doesn’t know enough to understand what morrigan might be doing, and that makes him wary

my current expectations are that at this point he will have committed to being in a monogamous relationship for the first time in his life, and that his overpowering sense of honour and duty will not take well to the idea of breaking his word there merely to save his own life

accepted his death when he was exiled until duncan said come, take your punishment with me. the blight was his purpose. when he slays the archdemon, that purpose will be over; why, then, should he extend his life at such costs/risks? in his head, it wouldn’t be so terrible to have lived the very best months of his life and end them in the moment of victory; he has seen those who deserve far more receive far less

all he has ever wanted or been taught is to do his duty. noble sacrifice has an appeal to him, and value in his culture, so just the idea of trying to evade such a thing—of shirking his duty, of cowardice—makes him flinch

i can see a potential version of events where he does do the ritual but the, uh, scales are weighted one way. i did make him with the intention of this being a possibility because it’s a worldstate i want to explore. yes i will still be brokenhearted about it on your dash even though i chose this

#calenhad aeducan #tldr: he’s trying very hard to be a good man

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purpleberiii · 9 months

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"Let me be the one for you"

☆Prompt: In which Shalom is hopelessly in love with reader and does everything in her power just to be with them.

☆Warnings: mentions of reader having depression, suicidal thoughts.

She never thought she'd fall in love so hopelessly with someone, let alone you. Someone who brings her the most joy whenever she sees them. Someone who does nothing but could look so gorgeous. Someone who's not in the right state of mind but she didn't care, she will fix you.

Her eyes linger on your every move, no matter where you go or what you do. She just wants to protect you. Protect you from the cruelty of this world and its despicable creatures. You are her sunshine, even though you could never radiation a spec of light. You were her everything.

The rain poured heavily against the ground of the roof you were currently sitting on. The city illuminated a gorgeous light that you couldn't seem to take your eyes off; that is until you felt a shade come over you.

"Are you trying to catch a cold dear?" You looked at the angelic voice that spoke to you. Shalom bent down with a smile, not the kind you'd normally see on people's faces. You didn't answer her and returned your attention back on the city lights.

"I guess I should become a city light if it means getting all of your attention," she giggled as she fully sat next to you.

"...what do you want from me?"

She looked at you with an expression you couldn't read. "What I always wanted."

You had no idea what she was talking about and didn't care to ask as the building looked so good to jump off right now. "It's not so fun to jump off here you know."

Your eyes widened, how did she know what you were thinking? "How did-"

"It's the only thing you think about dear...but death... isn't always the answer to your problems. Sometimes the solution could be...People."

"...People?"

"If a person has lost there spark, all they have to do is to let someone in and that someone will ignite that spark again."

Was she hinting something?

"What if... what if the person is scared... to let others in?"

"There's nothing to be scared of if another is willing to light their spark. Do you think that if they didn't care, they would keep trying? No they wouldn't. They would probably move on." Her voice was soft and sweet, almost like a lullaby that puts even a grown person to sleep. You admired how beautiful Shalom actually was.

The rain had stopped it's falling, only leaving a small drop or two. "Nobody is willing to light my spark."

She looked at you and cupped your face with one of her hands. "That's not true. If there's one thing in this world that I know for certain... is that there's someone that would kill just for you to get your smile back. That precious smile that always used for greet me in the morning and night."

You leaned into her touch without realising it and she stroked your cheek. "Let me be that person who will ignite your spark again."

"Shalom I-"

"Don't be scared. Please, I won't hurt you. I will only love and protect you. It's a promise." Those words resounded in your head.

"I love you y/n." Time seemed to slow down as Shalom muttered those words. Just those words were enough to break down your walls and get your heart pumping again. You pulled Shalom into a hug and sobbed into her shoulders, gripping her tightly as if she's going to leave, but she won't. Shalom will never leave you, not in those lifetime or the other.

A/n:

I missed the event where Shalom showed up and I know nothing of her but am still in love with her 🥲 excuse me if this didn't make sense.

#shalom #path to nowhere shalom #shalom x reader #ptn shalom #ptn shalom x reader #path to nowhere #ptn

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heich0e · 2 years

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the hunt - frat boy!atsumu/f!reader (haikyuu!) tags: not NSFW but not NOT NSFW if that makes sense, inspired by this art by @/hlxtn, mentions of alcohol, typical frat party debauchery, college!au, greek system!au, reader is in a sorority, atsumu has a lip piercing and is a whore, making out, heavy petting, graphic depictions of graphic depictions, gratuitous headboard knocking, this atsumu makes me want to scream, word count 3k

The brief is simple: a scavenger hunt of sorts.

It’s just a bit of friendly competition between you and your fellow sorority sisters, not unusual for the chapter president and the upper ranking sisters to orchestrate. At 8:00PM on the dot, everyone received a joint text message with a list of items to retrieve or tasks to complete to earn points—for tasks without a physical trophy, a simple photo as proof would do the trick—and once the clock strikes midnight, the participants who've managed to scavenge the most points would be the winners, and those with the lowest points would face a forfeit.

And finally, throughout the night there would be bonus points come up for grabs in the form of special challenges.

Like the one currently lighting up the screen of your phone.

(11:00PM) INZ hookup - 100 points for a pledge, 500 points for pres, 250 points for everyone else. (11:00PM) Current ranking: 12/25. 1 hour remaining.

“How far are we from the Iota house?” you ask, leaning forward against the restraint of your seatbelt and gripping the headrest of the drivers seat in front of you.

“A couple blocks,” your friend (and fellow sorority sister) behind the wheel says in confusion, “why?”

You and a few of your closest friends had wandered out that night to amass points together. You were all doing pretty well, but according to the rankings that are sent out every half hour, none of you have even broken the top 10.

And now there's only an hour left.

“Go there next,” you say decisively.

“Are you nuts?” another sister smushed into the backseat with you squeaks, “hooking up with an Iota is…”

Practically a death sentence. At least socially. You all know it.

To call the boys of the INZ frat run-through would be a disservice to the word. Their reputation among the other greeks is NOT one to be trifled with. The boys themselves, beyond being philandering, are more than a little rough around the edges. They’re known for starting fights (and finishing them) and save for their chapter president Kita, and a few standouts among the brothers, they’re not generally considered the shining gold standard of Greek Life. The Iotas are the direct cause of more than a few of the sanctions your university has imposed on the Greek system in recent years, even against Kita's best efforts to keep them in line.

But still, that many points may just be too gleaming of an opportunity for you to pass up.

There’s a party in full swing when you pull up to the INZ house, because it's a Friday night so of course there is.

“Do you see anyone else here?” you ask your friends as you step into the fray, raising your voice to be heard over the pulsating music rattling through the house. You’re all wearing shirts with your sorority’s greek letters on them, so any fellow sisters should be easy to spot, though you can’t make any out from where you stand near the door.

“No,” one of your friends says, pressing close to your back to avoid being run over by a few passing partygoers chasing after someone in a hoodie with a quart of rum tucked under his arm. “Hey, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Of course it’s not. But the last time you lost one of these little challenges you were stuck vacuuming the entire sorority house for two months, and you weren’t eager to experience it again.

“How much time is left?” you ask, pulling your cellphone from your pocket.

11:12 your screen reads.

“Around 45 minutes,” your friend confirms what you know to be true once you see the time on your screen. Your eyes scan the party, landing on a figure on the edge of the crowd in an INZ hoodie with a red solo cup in his hands.

And a terrible, horrible, perfect idea comes to mind.

You unlock your phone.

'Claiming this task!' you type as you cross the party, leaving your friends behind.

The President replies immediately to your claim.

(11:15PM) Which Iota?

You send your answer without a second thought.

The boy in the INZ hoodie doesn’t see you coming as you sidle up beside him, so when you put a hand on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and crane up on your tiptoes to get close to his ear he stiffens slightly in surprise.

“Hi,” you say into his ear to be heard over the music blaring through the crowded house, your fingers twisting into the material of his sleeve, “you don’t know me, but I really need a favour.”

And that’s how you end up in Atsumu Miya’s bedroom in the Iota Nu Zeta frat house, standing on he opposite side of the room as he sits perched on the edge of his bed.

“Yer tellin’ me ya want me to pretend to fuck ya?” he asks, a brow quirked under the band of his backwards cap. “All fer some… bet?”

“It’s not a bet,” you correct him (not for the first time), “it’s a scavenger hunt.”

“And I’m the thing yer huntin’?” he's teasing you now, and you know it.

“It doesn’t have to be you,” you huff, your lips pursing, “and if you’re gonna keep wasting my time I can go ask—“

“Now wait a minute,” he interrupts you before you can even dangle the threat before him, “now that I know yer trying to cheat the system, whose t’say I don’t send a text of my own to that pretty little president of yours and tell her what yer schemin’?”

“You wouldn’t,” you say, your nose crinkling up in irritation.

Atsumu grins, and the piercing on his bottom lip catches in the light of the lamp that sits on the table between the two twin XL beds in the tiny, untidy room. You assume he shares it with his twin brother, though you really don’t have much to base that assumption other than the fact you know he has one. The room is a bit neater on the side Atsumu is not sitting on, so you infer that Osamu is also the tidier twin between the two of them.

“Nah, I wouldn’t,” he laughs, “I kinda like seein’ ya play dirty.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You guys always seem so…” Atsumu goes on, waving his hand in the air vaguely.

“Rule-abiding?” you offer.

“Stuck up,” he corrects you.

He’s not necessarily wrong for thinking it, even if it does irk you. Your sisterhood is one of the more reserved greek chapters on campus—elite even, if you dared to say it. Sure, the scavenger hunt you find yourself partaking in that evening might not seem it, but the fact of the matter is that you guys aren’t inherently morally superior to any of the other greek houses - you’re just better at not getting caught.

Something that seems utterly beyond the Iota brothers.

Which is exactly why you need it to be him.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” you finally ask, sighing warily.

“What’s in it for me?” Atsumu counters your appeal.

“I’ll give you all my precal notes ahead of the midterm next week.”

Atsumu furrows his brow. “We’re in the same precal class?” he asks.

Your expression flattens.

“Unfortunately, yes,” you grit out, “which you might know if you didn’t spend every class napping.”

“Wait…”—he purses his lips, eyes scanning over your face—“we have a midterm next week?”

You feel something throb palpably behind your eyes.

“Yes,” you manage to get out even though your jaw is clenched firmly shut. "God you're hopeless."

"Yer awfully rude for someone who's tryin' to use me fer my body," Atsumu says, smirking when he sees the way your expression shifts into one of even further annoyance at his taunt. He leans back on his bed, resting his weight on his elbows. “So, what do I have to do here?”

“Just… take your shirt off and take a picture with me in bed with you,” you say, though it physically pains you to say the words. To have to stoop so low.

He quirks a brow mischievously. “Oh, ’s that all?”

“And keep your hands to yourself,” you tack on pointedly.

Atsumu snorts, lifting his hands in innocence.

“You got it, princess.”

Just as Atsumu shifts his weight forward, and his hand reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his hoodie, your cellphone jingles.

You reach for it, and see that it’s a message from the sorority president. You unlock the device to reveal the message.

It’s a picture of a door.

The very door you presently find yourself behind.

Another message pops up in the chat.

(11:29) Recruited a bit of backup! You’ve got a little crowd waiting for proof, just to be safe ;)

And then another.

(11:30) Current ranking: 15/25. 30 minutes remaining.

“Fuck,” you mutter, miserable at the turn of events - and your drop in the rankings.

“What’s wrong?” Atsumu asks.

“There are people out there…” your voice drops quieter, your eyes flickering over to the door on the other side of the room. “Waiting for… proof.”

The information seems to process slowly in Atsumu’s brain, and his eyes widen as the facts click into place.

“Ohhh…” he trails off. “They want a real show, huh?”

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” you sigh, “it was stupid, just forget I-“

Atsumu catches your wrist in his hand, tugging you forward before you can step away towards the door in defeat. You peer down at him as you stand between his parted thighs, confused.

“I never said I couldn’t give ‘em one.”

Your face flushes.

“Don’t be stu-“

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he says, letting his grip on your wrist fall, “we just gotta get a bit more… creative about it ’s all.”

You chew on the corner of your lip.

You really hate vacuuming.

“Alright,” you muster your resolve, offering him your hand for a handshake.

“And ya owe me all your notes right up until the final,” Atsumu tacks on, just before he clasps your hand in his.

You huff, closing the distance between your palms and taking his hand in a shake. You can’t help but notice how much larger his hand is than yours.

“Fine, whatever.”

Atsumu is… frighteningly good at putting on a show.

He turns out the lamp on his bedside table so there’s no light peeking out from the crack under the door, he turns on music like he’s trying (and failing) to drown out any possible noise that might make it out, and he rocks his sturdy bed frame into the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm.

“Hey,” he grunts out on a particularly hard knock of the wooden frame against the wall, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Ya gotta make some noise, y’know. Yer gonna ruin my rep.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper back, still standing frozen just beside the bed, more than a little awkwardly.

“Y’know, moan or whatever,” he hisses back.

“I can’t do that!” you snap.

“Yeah fuckin’ right,” he mutters, and you have half a mind to smack him. But before you have the chance to, a strong arm circles your waist and pulls you down.

You squeak in fright. “Atsumu!”

He has you pinned underneath his body before you know it, practically nose to nose with him, his hands returning to their place on the headboard to give it another knock against the wall.

Your eyes have adjusted to the dimness in the room since he turned out the lamp, and you can make out his features even though it’s dark. He’s smirking, that little silver hoop at the edge of his lip caught between his teeth.

“There ya go,” he snickers, “just like that.”

“You told me you’d keep your hands to yourself,” you mutter lowly.

“Sacrifices must be made,” he shrugs, and gives the headboard another loud, incriminating knock.

It’s preposterous the situation you find yourself in, pinned underneath Atsumu god damn Miya of all people. Pretending to fuck him.

How the hell did you end up here?

“Ow,” you complain quietly when a particularly rough knock makes the back of your head hit the headboard.

“Shit, sorry,” Atsumu mutters. He slides an arm underneath your back. “Here.”

He grunts, flipping the two of you over so you’re straddling his waist and he’s the one against the headboard in his tiny little bed. His baseball cap falls off in the scuffle, leaving the strands of his blonde hair loose.

“’S that better?” he asks.

It’s not actually, because this feels a hell of a lot more compromising than it had a second before.

“Ya just gotta push against the headboard like this,”—he takes your hands in his, guiding them up over his shoulders to grip the wooden bed frame, pressing them back until it knocks into the wall—“see?”

“Okay,” you murmur, still a little dazed from the sudden role reversal, repeating the motion.

You go slower than he had as you get the hang of it, distracted by how close his face is to yours. How you can feel his breath against your mouth.

It smells like spearmint gum and cheap beer.

You lick your lips.

“This more the pace you like?” Atsumu asks, smiling crookedly as he remarks on the tempo you’ve set, his hands settling on your waist.

“Watch your hands,” you snap quietly, and his touch retreats as you stretch back as far as you can from him without losing your grip on the headboard.

“You’re still bein’ pretty quiet,” Atsumu comments. “You really gonna make me do everything?”

“What do you-“

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Atsumu’s moan is so loud that it startles you, and you let go of the headboard to slap your hand over his mouth in surprise. He grunts a little as you pitch forward, your palm muffling the sound.

“You tryin’ to win this thing or not?” he asks you pointedly once you pull your hand away.

“Sorry,” you mutter, acutely aware of the fact you can feel the slickness of spit on your palm, “you just… surprised me.”

He hums.

“I’d say we’ve probably sold it at this point anyway,” he says with a little sigh. “As long as we go back out there lookin’ a bit scruffy, no one’ll know.”

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you mull over his words.

“What?” he asks, noticing your hesitation.

You swallow, reaching up and touching the side of your neck.

“You should give me a hickey.”

Atsumu’s eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Yer jokin’.”

You shake your head. “It’s like… incontrovertible proof right? It’s not like I could give myself one.”

His eyes search your face for any sign of deception.

“Ya don’t seem like the type who’d let someone mark ya.”

“I’m not,” you say, suppressing a shiver as his pointer finger loops under the neckline of your t-shirt, tugging it gently to the side. “You seem like the type to leave marks, though.”

Atsumu leans forward and chuckles, his breath is warm against your throat.

“Yeah, guess I am.”

Atsumu’s mouth is hot as it descends upon your pulse point, lips closing around the skin.

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands tangling in the blonde’s hair without thinking as he sucks at the sensitive part of your neck. His own hands have settled on your waist, and this time you don’t tell him to remove them.

“Atsumu,” you whimper as his teeth scrape over the skin he’s been suckling against, making you dizzy.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs into your throat, his hands slipping up under the hem of your t-shirt where his fingertips meet skin.

You don’t say anything.

Atsumu flips you over, and this time there’s nothing deceptive about the way the headboard knocks into the wall.

His hands are still up your shirt, his lips still on your neck, and your legs wrap themselves around his waist as you writhe against his bedsheets.

“D’ya know why,”—Atsumu interrupts himself to drag his teeth along the edge of your jaw—“I was so shocked we’re in the same class?”

You shake your head minutely, your fingers twisted into the material of his hoodie over his chest. You watch his lips part in a smile, eyes fixed to that little piercing again.

“Because I’ve had a crush on ya since first year,” he murmurs, “and if I’d known ya were there, then I wouldn’t of been nappin’.”

Atsumu kisses you—finally—and you can’t help the sound that slips out of you at the feeling of his lips slotting against yours.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and beer.

His piercing presses gently into your lips as his part against yours, his tongue slipping forward to taste you too.

His hands grab at anything and everything they can reach.

Somewhere distantly, you feel you’ve played right into his hand. You recognize that you weren’t the only one who had been scheming tonight.

On Atsumu’s floor, your discarded cellphone lights up with yet another missed message.

(11:45PM) Proof received +250 points

(11:46PM) No idea you had it in you LOL

(12:00AM) Final ranking: 2nd place

You don’t see the texts until much, much later.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #hq drabble #hq fic #hq writing #writing #fratsumu #frat!au

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pillow-anime-talk · 2 years

Text

where you go, i go.

request: i saw write for kagaya and as a simp for him, thank you! if i may, request a scenario where before the confrontation with muzan, kagaya had begged for reader to not be there with him but reader refuses. she takes a hold of his hand, bring his knuckles to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss on his hand. gently but firmly stating that he’s her companion in life. the love of her life. she will not leave him alone. she will stay right by his side no matter what may come to pass. [i had gotten the idea from the quote “we have lived together for many years. where you go, i go” of ida straus to her husband isidor straus. i think that this would suit the relationship]

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; soft romance; drama; mostly angst; mention of death and crying; kagaya and reader have children; sfw?

includes: female reader ft. kagaya ubuyashiki {kny}

author’s note: it was a beautiful request and i’m sorry you waited so long for it! love u, anonnie ♥

These were hard months for people, for whole Demon Slayer Corps, and most of all for you and your loved one, who buried many of his combatants, many of his ‘children’. Both you and your husband knew that it was a matter of several hours before Muzan would reach your current place of residence and start wreaking havoc and murder innocent people, destroy crops and houses, and kill animals grazing in meadows or resting in stables and cowsheds. The Demon King wanted to catch both your partner and Tanjirou’s little demon sister, and you had to be prepared for that; both mentally and physically.

Your husband begged you to take your children and hide in a safe place for you (preferably underground with a supply of food and water), to run as far away as possible from the King walking towards you and forget about what has been going on for the last few months (e.g. to find someone better, someone with whom your future will be bright and peaceful). But you were stubborn, Kagaya knew it very well.

“...I’m begging you, Y/N. Just go away and live safely without me.” The blind man turned his head in your direction and you just frowned. The chirping of the last birds reached your ears, and you muttered something unintelligible under your breath.

“... Why would I leave a person who is my whole world?” You asked rhetorically and the man only sighed in response. You were really stubborn and stuck to your point. “We have lived together for many years, Kagaya. Where you go, I go. Do you remember? We promised that to each other on our wedding day.” You smiled softly, and the twenty-three-year-old seemed to sense your changing facial expressions. His heart, though it shouldn’t have, was beating faster.

“Yes, I know, my dear. But I don’t want anything bad to happen to you and kids, you need to understand that, Y/N.” He said, listening to the wind and the sound of flowing water from the tiny stream in front of your property. The rustle of leaves and bushes was also pleasant to the ear.

You moved closer to your husband and then took both of his hands in a strong grip. Kagaya obviously appreciated the gesture, and the moment you lifted his hands to your own warm lips and placed a tender kiss on both of his hands, he understood that you would not leave him, even if you go to certain deaths. It wasn’t your style, it wasn’t in your genes.

“So let’s get through this together.” He said in a low voice so as not to wake your sleeping children at home. You nodded your head, thanking him for his understanding.

“...Let us also die together.” You replied with a confident face and then hugged the man, inhaling his characteristic, pleasant smell reminiscent of old pine and fresh peonies. “Where you are, there I am.” You said, closing your eyes, dreaming of life and a world where there are no demons, death and war. About such a life where there are only you two, your offspring, laughter and love.

It was a beautiful vision.

#— 🍓#demon slayer #demon slayer scenarios #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x you #kagaya ubuyashiki #kagaya ubuyashiki scenarios #kagaya ubuyashiki x reader #kagaya ubuyashiki x you #kagaya ubuyashiki y/n #oyakata-sama #oyakata-sama scenarios #oyakata-sama x reader #oyakata-sama x you #oyakata-sama x y/n

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kckt88 · 9 months

Text

Take My Breath Away I

Summary:

The Dance of the Dragons is over and the Greens have emerged victorious.

A broken King sits the Iron Throne and in order to secure the succession, the last living daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen is summoned to the Red Keep to do her duty to the realm and provide the King with an heir by marrying her Uncle Aemond Targaryen.

Vaeryna answers the summons and willingly marries the man responsible for the deaths of her brother and father, but what are her motives for doing so and what other secrets is Vaeryna hiding?

Warning(s): Swearing, Angst, Mentions of Death.

Word Count: 3117

GREENS WIN - SLOW BURN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

"With the King no longer able to sire children, an heir must be provided by other means."

"-And what means are those, Lord Westerling?" asked Aemond narrowing his eye.

"Vaeryna Targaryen"

"The girl is a bastard" sneered Manfryd Mooton.

“A bastard she may be, but she is the only living child of Rhaenyra and Daemon, her Valyrian blood is valuable” said Alicent firmly.

“If she were to marry Aemond and grant him a son, the boy could be named heir to the Iron Throne, we could also betroth him to Jaehaera, and secure the succession of the one true King” said Larys.

“There have also been rumours that Rhaenyra’s last act was to betroth her daughter, to Cregan Stark. We cannot allow that marriage to take place. There are still remnants that are loyal to Rhaenyra, we cannot have them and the entire North conspiring to put Vaeryna on the Iron Throne. The seven kingdoms cannot survive another war” exclaimed Alicent as she picked at her fingers.

“Where is the Princess now?” asked Aegon, grimacing in pain as he shifted in his chair.

“In the Vale with her Cannibal” replied Larys.

“Bit odd isn’t it. That Rhaenyra’s biggest asset in the war was sent away to the Vale”.

“Mayhaps, she thought to keep the girl safe” said Alicent.

Aegon sat silent at the head of the table, it was true that he could no longer sire babes and his only surviving child was his daughter Jaehaera.

He was the King, and he was without an heir.

Whilst indeed there were people who called him King, there were still those that called him usurper.

His claim to the Iron Throne was on shaky ground, and with no male heir, he was at risk.

If Vaeryna was their only salvation, then so be it. Bastard or not.

“Send a raven to the Vale, inform the Princess of her betrothal to my brother Prince Aemond and that her King commands her to come to Kings Landing by weeks end” ordered Aegon.

“Is he actually serious?” raged Jeyne.

“Is who serious?” asked Cregan furrowing his brow.

“That usurper cunt that sit’s on the Iron Throne, he has summoned Vaeryna to Kings Landing” retorted Jeyne angrily.

“For what purpose?”

“He has betrothed Vaeryna to the kinslayer” snarled Jeyne.

“Has he lost his wits?” said Cregan aghast.

“The rumours of the Kings inability to sire more children has proven true, his only remaining child is a girl. Obviously, he cannot name her heir lest he be labelled a hypocrite. So, his only option is to have his brother marry and produce a son that will be named heir” replied Vaeryna.

“He summons you to Kings Landing to be a broodmare for the kinslayer?”

“It’s an outrage. It’s a scandal” snarled Jeyne as she quickly downed a cup of wine.

“They know their grip on the throne hangs by a thread, I am the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, they can’t risk me marrying elsewhere, lest my lord husband develop the idea of putting me on the throne” replied Vaeryna.

“Which is exactly where you should be. Your mother was the rightful Queen, you are her heir. It should be you sitting on the Iron Throne” stated Cregan, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Maybe in another life, but this is the one we currently live. I cannot ignore a summons from the King” muttered Vaeryna.

“Your not actually considering this?” gasped Jeyne.

“What other choice do I have? I can’t exactly ignore it. Sooner or later, they will come for me, I do not wish for either of you to suffer for my ignorance and I cannot risk them discovering that-“

“-I understand your reason Princess but to marry the kinslayer, to lay with him and birth his children, it is too great a sacrifice,” said Jeyne.

“You above all know what I promised my mother, and If marrying a kinslayer is the only way, then I will do what I must” replied Vaeryna firmly.

“Surely there has to be another way” exclaimed Jeyne.

“Princess-“ muttered Cregan sadly.

“I know that I have no right to ask this, but please Cregan would you-” exclaimed Vaeryna.

“-I swore an oath to your mother, and now that oath extends to you” replied Cregan.

“Both of you have my eternal gratitude. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me and-” said Vaeryna sadly.

“-We but do our duty to you sweet Princess. If ever you have need of us. All you need to do is ask” said Jeyne softly.

Vaeryna stared at her Cannibal and took a deep breath, the time had come for her to bid farewell to the peace and serenity of the Vale and travel to Kings Landing.

Cregan had already left the Vale earlier in that morning, wanting to get back Winterfell as quick as possible. Their farewell had been bittersweet. Whilst her mother had expressed a desire to see her married to the Lord of Winterfell, nothing official had been declared, not that it mattered anyway as no doubt the King wouldn’t have given his blessing.

Vaeryna was sure she would have been happy married to Cregan, but she wasn’t so sure that her Cannibal would enjoy the snow.

So with a heavy heart, Vaeryna bid farewell to the Lord of Winterfell and pressed a gentle kiss to the forehead of the small hooded figure hidden in Cregan's fur lined cloak.

Saying goodbye to Jeyne was hard. Vaeryna had been sent to the Vale at the start of the war and Jeyne had provided much comfort when all the only news they received was that of death and destruction.

After giving Jeyne one last hug, Vaeryna climbed on the back of her Cannibal and took to the skies, heading away from the Vale towards Kings Landing.

One she was air borne, Vaeryna couldn’t help but think about Aemond. From the sweet shy boy, he was, to the kinslayer he became.

News would often reach the Vale of Aemond’s exploits at Harrenhal and his burning of the Riverlands and Vaeryna would despair as countless innocents had lost their lives to Vhagar’s flames. But for his crimes Aemond suffered, as his witch whore was captured and executed by Sabitha Fey after she had seized control of Harrenhal.

Aemond didn’t have much time to grieve for his fallen witch as he faced her father in a dragon battle above the gods eye not long after and when he emerged triumphant, he had returned to Kings Landing to revel in his victory.

A few hours later, Kings Landing appeared on the horizon and Vaeryna couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive. Of course, she was expected to marry Aemond and birth his babes, but how would she be treated outside of their need for her.

She would be hidden and patient, she was the daughter of the Rogue Prince, she was blood of the dragon and she had made a promise to her mother, and by the gods of old Valyria she would see it kept.

If she was blessed with a son, he would be named heir, her blood would one day sit the Iron Throne, her mothers blood, her father’s blood. All was not lost.

Once Vaeryna arrived in Kings Landing, she had Cannibal circle the Red Keep a couple of times before he landed with a colossal thud on the stone walls that surrounded the castle. Announcing his arrival with a thunderous roar, Cannibal manoeuvred himself off the wall and lowered himself to the ground.

After taking a moment to gather her bags that were attached to Cannibal, Vaeryna elegantly moved off Cannibals back and descended down the wing that he’d pressed against the ground.

Cannibal lingered by her side for a moment, observing the two guards that had appeared at the entrance to the castle. His low rumbling growls echoing around the courtyard.

“It’s ok my sweet” urged Vaeryna as she ran her hand along Cannibals scaly neck.

Cannibal who was still hesitant to leave her side, bared his teeth as the guards moved closer.

“I’m fine, they are merely escorts. Go hunt and find a place to rest. I will see you soon” said Vaeryna as she pressed a quick kiss to Cannibal’s snout.

Cannibal trilled as he nudged her gently, lingering at her side for a few moments longer before he opened his large wings and took off from the ground with a huge gust of wind.

Vaeryna held her satchel close as the guards slowly approached her.

“Princess Vaeryna. Welcome to Kings Landing. Allow us to escort you to the King”.

“Thank you” replied Vaeryna.

Vaeryna silently followed the guards as they walked through the Red Keep. Ignoring the curious looks of the maids and servants as she went passed.

Eventually the guards came to a stop in front of a large ornate wooden door. The Throne Room.

The great doors opened and Vaeryna steeled herself for what she was about to face.

“Princess Vaeryna, of house Targaryen”

After she was announced Vaeryna walked into the Throne Room, her fingers clutching her satchel tightly.

Ignoring the whispers of those loyal to the King as she passed.

What a sight she must have made, dressed in her riding leathers, her long silver hair twisted into many elaborate braids that Visenya herself once favoured. Her red and black sash that represented her house and her dragon draped over her shoulder, the silver dragon chain that crossed from her shoulder to her waist twinkling in the light with every step she took.

“Welcome to Kings Landing Princess, I trust that you agree to the terms that were presented too you?” asked Aegon.

“Yes, Your Grace”.

“Very well, you shall wed my brother Prince Aemond within a month, I suggest you both use that time to get to know one another” said Aegon.

“As you wish” replied Vaeryna as she stared at the King, he looked so small sitting upon the Iron Throne, the blades of Aegon the conquerors fallen enemies looked like a twisted and gnarled hand that had sunk it’s claws into the usurper’s back and wouldn’t let go.

“Temporary chambers have been assigned to you for now, but I think it’s for the best that once you and my brother are wed, that you share chambers. To increase the chances of producing children of course” said Aegon firmly, ignoring his mother who tutted.

“Yes, Your Grace” muttered Vaeryna.

“I will also assign Ser Arryk to be your personal guard” spoke Aegon.

Vaeryna look at Ser Arryk who gave her a courteous nod before he resumed his post at the foot of the Iron Throne.

“I will expect your attendance at dinner every night” ordered Aegon.

“Yes, Your Grace” replied Vaeryna. She figured it was for the best that she keeps her answers short and polite.

No matter what she thought of his crowning or who was the rightful heir, which was her mother, it wouldn’t do well to anger the King.

“Is there anything you wish to request in return for your acceptance of my terms?” asked Aegon curiously.

“Only that I be allowed to see my Cannibal as often as I desire” replied Vaeryna.

“You could ask your King for anything, yet that is your only request?” inquired Aegon.

“Yes, Your Grace. I don’t require anything else” muttered Vaeryna, making the mistake of looking at Aemond who seemed to be eyeing her intently.

His arms folded behind his back, his posture rigid and firm. But it was the glint of silver at his hip that suddenly caught her attention.

Dark Sister, her father’s Valyrian steel sword.

Aemond followed her gaze and he smiled, wrapping his hand around the pommel of the sword.

Vaeryna’s lip curled in disgust, her hands clenched the material of her satchel so tight it began to rip.

It was only Aegon’s voice that broke her out of her anger induced haze.

“Very well. I grant your request. You may see your dragon whenever you wish”.

“Gratitude Your Grace” replied Vaeryna bowing slightly.

“I will have Ser Arryk escort you to your chambers so that you may bathe and get settled, I will see you at dinner” said Aegon firmly.

After she had changed out of her riding leathers and bathed. Vaeryna decided to pass the time by making sure her things were unpacked and placed exactly where she wanted them. Not like she brought many of her things with her anyway.

A few dresses, and books and her most prized possessions that she kept in a small, locked box; a seahorse pendant that Luke had given her just before he died, her mother’s Valyrian steel necklace, one of her father’s rings, a few scraps of parchment that Aegon and Viserys had drawn on, some dried flower petals and letters from Jace.

Vaeryna unfurled one of the letters and smiled as she read Jace’s messy looping swirls.

‘Issa gevie zaldrīzes’ (My beautiful dragon).

Jace wasn’t as proficient in high Valyrian as she was. He kept putting it off, until he gave in and ended up learning with Maester Gerardys.

When her mother had married her father, after the incident on Driftmark. Daemon had insisted on teaching her himself.

It was his way of making up for not being there for her when she was born. By that time, he was living in Pentos and married to the Lady Laena.

Her father wasn’t a bad man, not really. He didn’t want power. He didn’t want the throne as so many others believed. He just wanted to be with family. To be important.

Vaeryna shook her head and continued to read.

‘ēva istan hēnkirī arlī’ (Until were together again).

A solitary tear slipped down Vaeryna’s cheek as she read the rest of Jace’s letter.

She would never admit it out loud. But deep in the depths of her mind, she missed him the most.

His deep brown eyes, his cheeky smile, and the way he would always make her laugh.

She even missed that god awful haircut that he’d given himself. He’d sheared off his beautiful dark curly locks just before they’d travelled to Kings Landing to defend Luke’s claim as heir to Driftmark.

Suddenly a knock at the door broke her out of her reverie. It was a maid informing her that dinner was ready.

Vaeryna silently followed the maid down the corridor. The only sound was the slap of her shoes against the stone floor and of course the clanging of Ser Arryk’s armour as he followed.

“Princess Vaeryna. Your Grace” said the maid after she had opened the large wooden door.

Vaeryna took a deep breath and entered the dining room. Sitting at the long table was Aegon, Aemond and Alicent.

The dowager Queen’s loyal dog and former hand of the King Ser Criston lingered in the corner.

“Welcome Princess. Pease come in” said Alicent smiling.

Vaeryna nodded slightly and slowly approached the table, suddenly becoming very aware of everyone staring at her.

“Perhaps an introduction-” suggested Alicent nudging Aemond who rose from his seat, he was much taller up close, his body lean and covered with leather, his features were sharp yet perfect that his face looked like it had been carved by the gods themselves.

His long silver hair tied back, the scar that bisected the left side of his face only added to his allure, his missing eye covered by an eyepatch.

Never had Vaeryna seen a man so handsome, just a shame he was a kinslayer and a loathsome cunt.

“-I have no need to be introduced. I’m well aware of who my uncle Aemond is and what he is” retorted Vaeryna as she took a seat.

Aemond scowled at her before he resumed his seat, glaring at Aegon who scoffed loudly.

“As the King said. Your courtship period with Aemond will last approximately one moon, after that the two of you will marry in the sept under the faith of the seven” said Alicent sternly.

“Of course,” whispered Vaeryna, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

“You will be expected to be virtuous, chaste and do your duty as a wife and only bear my son’s children”.

Vaeryna of course picked up on Alicent’s thinly veiled dig at her mother, and obviously Alicent was waiting for her response as she stared her pointedly.

“I’m well aware of my duty Your Grace. Despite what you all may think, I have no such desire to sully myself or my husband by birthing bastards” muttered Vaeryna, looking at Aemond who was smirking.

“Pretty words Princess. Surely you can understand my reluctance to believe such things”.

“I honestly don’t care what you believe” shrugged Vaeryna.

“You will show respect to the dowager Queen” snapped Ser Criston.

“I only show respect to those who respect me” replied Vaeryna.

“You have given me no reason to respect you-”.

“-Neither have you” retorted Vaeryna.

“Mayhaps we should start this conversation again?” suggested Alicent.

“You talk about the importance of my virtue and purity, yet it was your own son who was involved with that Riverlands bastard” said Vaeryna.

“He didn’t-“ muttered Alicent glancing at Aemond who lowered his head slightly.

“-Apologise, but there is no point in denying it. Everyone from Storms End to the wall knew of your favourite sons frequent visits to Alys Rivers bed” replied Vaeryna.

“Don’t you-” warned Aemond.

“-Seems as though she had quite the fondness for Targaryen’s, as my father also enjoyed her company during his time at Harrenhal” said Vaeryna smirking.

“That’s not-“ exclaimed Aemond his eye wide.

“-What true? Of course, it is. Surely you didn’t think you were that special. I must admit it’s quite poetic, isn’t it? Given your dislike of ‘strong bastards’. Yet you take one as your bed mate” retorted Vaeryna.

“That’s enough” warned Alicent.

"Boy it must really sting that when you were imprisoned, your precious son was far to busy getting his cock wet to even bother coming home to save you" said Vaeryna smirking.

"I said that's enough" exclaimed Alicent.

“Quite unfortunate that she died. As I dare say she would have given you your own little strong bastard eventually” retorted Vaeryna, looking over at Aegon who was sniggering into his cup of wine.

“You are excused. Return to your chambers. NOW” ordered Alicent as she slammed her hands down on the table.

“Your Grace” muttered Vaeryna bowing slightly to Aegon and then leaving the room with Ser Arryk.

“She should be punished-” snarled Criston.

“-For what? Telling the truth?” asked Aegon.

“Your Grace-“ muttered Alicent.

“-Oh, come on mother. We all know about Aemond’s little slip at Harrenhal, let’s not pretend otherwise” replied Aegon taking a sip of wine.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd aemond #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond x original female character #hotd fic #aemond fic #aemond #aegon ii #aemond one eye #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #alicent

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happy74827 · 10 months

Text

Moral Support

[Harvey Specter & Teen!Reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted was to spend more time with your busy uncle, but since he’s the best closer in town, even a simple concert at your school is inconvenient. Still, given the importance, you can’t help but try.

WC: 2198

Category: Platonic, Angst/Fluff

New show alert! Well, it's not really new to me since I'm almost on season seven now, and it's an old show to begin with, but this show currently has a death grip over me, and I'm actually shocked it took me this long to start writing for it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this... buffoonery because I sure did.

『••✎••』

Harvey Specter was the kind of man that was always on the move. The workaholic attorney practically lived at his job, and if he wasn't there, he was out trying to get more clients. He rarely had time for himself or for those closest to him, which was why you rarely saw him anymore. It was always quick phone calls that were over before you could even grab the phone from your father. The rare occasion that you were able to actually spend time with your uncle was the holidays, and even then, he’d always leave early. There was always some case that required his attention, and you knew better than to complain about it.

He was your hero, and you respected the fact that his work was so important to him. But that didn't stop the sting when he'd cancel plans for the third time in a row. You loved him, and you knew that he loved you, but that didn't mean you didn't miss him. You wanted him to be around, and you wanted him to be proud of you. That was why when you found out that you were picked to do the major solo in your upcoming choir concert, you immediately thought of him. How proud he’d be when he showed up and heard you sing.

But… when you decided to “drop by” his office, you were reminded once again that your uncle was a very busy man. He was hunched over his desk, his hand was in his hair, and his eyes focused on whatever paper he was reading. He didn’t even hear Donna, his amazing secretary, when she told him you were here. So, you walked in and cleared your throat, making him look up.

"Uncle Harvey, hi!" you said happily, walking closer to his desk. He looked tired and not at all happy to see you, but you weren't going to let that deter you.

"Hey, kiddo. What are you doing here?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the papers in front of him. You sat down and leaned forward, trying to read them, but he was quick to snatch them up.

"I just wanted to come see you. I haven't seen you since Christmas."

"Well, I've been busy. You know that." He said, standing up and shuffling the papers into a folder. "What's up, kid?"

Harvey turned back around to face you, a small and tired smile on his lips. You reminded him a lot of Mike, though it really should be the other way around. You were always curious about his work, wanting to learn everything you could. Mike did, too, but he didn’t have the same innocence as you. The smiles you wore were much more genuine.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you something," you said, suddenly feeling shy. He sat down again and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands.

"Shoot."

You took a deep breath and began to explain, "So, I have this choir concert coming up. I've been taking lessons for a while, and I auditioned and got this huge, big solo in one of the songs.”

"That's great. What's the question?"

"Well,” You let out a sigh, “I was hoping that you would be able to come.”

There was a pause as Harvey let what you said sink in. His expression shifted to something that you couldn't place. There was a mix of emotions in his eyes, and it made you uneasy. You knew what was coming, but you still held onto hope. You held onto the idea that this one time was the exception.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t.

"As much as I would love to, kiddo, I can't," he said, his tone a bit softer than it was before.

"Can't or won't?"

“I have a case that requires a lot of my attention right now. A man could go to prison for something he didn’t do, and I can't risk that happening because I went to some little show."

"Some little show? Uncle Harvey, this isn’t just some show! This is a big deal, and I want you there. I want you to be proud of me,” you said, trying not to get angry.

"I'm always proud of you."

"It doesn't feel like it."

He looked at you for a moment before letting out a sigh. He leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his face. It was clear that he was stressed and had a lot of work to do, but you still couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

"I have a lot going on, okay?" he said, a bit harsher than before. You felt yourself shrink a little, and you dropped your head, nodding.

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled, standing up and grabbing your bag. "I'm sorry. I'll let you get back to work."

He called after you, but you kept walking. You didn't stop until you got outside, and even then, all you could think about was going home and being alone.

"How'd it go?" Donna asked, sitting at her desk. She had a warm smile on her lips and a cup of coffee in her hands, but it quickly faded when she saw the look on your face.

"Why ask when you already know the answer? I'll see you later," you mumbled, waving as you passed. She called your name, too, but you ignored her like your uncle. You weren't in the mood to talk to anyone. You just wanted to be by yourself. Maybe eat some ice cream, too, just to dissolve the disappointment.

Once out of sight, Donna let out a sigh, shaking her head before deciding to walk into Harvey's office. She was ready to tell him off for how he treated you, but the words died in her throat. He was leaning back in his chair, the same tired expression he'd had when you came in still on his face. It wasn't the fact that he looked so worn that stopped her, though. It was the look of guilt and regret.

"Go away, Donna,” he grumbled, not looking at her. “I don’t want to hear it."

"You should," she replied, closing the door and stepping inside. "She's a kid, Harvey, and she looks up to you."

"I know that."

"Do you? Because, from what I saw, it doesn't seem like it."

"Donna, what do you want from me? I can't just drop everything and go to a show. Not when someone's life is on the line. I have a job to do," Harvey said, his voice rising as he stood up.

"That's a crap excuse, and you know it. You can work around things. I know you can."

"It's not that simple. I have a lot going on, and I can't just let it fall through the cracks."

"But you can let your niece fall through the cracks?"

"Donna-"

"She wanted you there, Harvey, and you just dismissed her. Instead of a simple “I’ll try my best,” you said to her face that her show isn’t important enough."

"I did not say that," Harvey snapped, moving around his desk.

"Some little show?" Donna mocked, throwing his words back at him. It got him to pause, his anger fading into something else.

"Don’t quote me. You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Didn't you? You didn't exactly phrase it nicely."

Harvey's jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists. Donna could tell that he was holding back. She had hit a sore spot and as much as he wanted to yell, he was stopping himself.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"Because she's a good kid, and she deserves better than your bullshit."

"Get out," Harvey said, turning his back to her and sitting down. Donna watched him, trying to see if he'd change his mind.

"Fine," she said, "But just think about what I said."

And with that, she walked out of his office, leaving him alone with his thoughts. She wasn’t wrong, and that pissed him off.

He hated being wrong, and even though he didn’t think he was, the guilt that filled his chest wouldn’t let him think anything else.

The next week, you were backstage and trying not to freak out. It wasn’t that you were nervous. You loved to sing, and it wasn't hard to do it in front of a crowd. There were so many people there, and they all cared. You didn't have anything to worry about. It was more so the fact that your uncle was one of the few who wasn’t.

He didn’t call or even send a text. It was radio silence, and it hurt, but you weren’t surprised. As much as you wanted him to be there, he wasn’t going to come. He had more important things to do, and as much as it sucked, you accepted it.

Still, the idea of singing without him knowing about it made you want to throw up.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it though because the concert was starting. Your solo was near the end, and it was the last song, so you didn’t have to sit and watch everyone else for too long. That was good, but not enough to stop you from worrying.

Before you could start panicking, the choir started, and you were forced to focus. All thoughts of your uncle slipped away as the music washed over you, and soon, you were lost. Everything seemed to blur as the sound grew louder and the world became smaller. This was where you were meant to be. On stage, singing your heart out.

Your parents and little sister were in the crowd, and you knew they were cheering for you. You couldn’t hear them, but the image was enough.

You finished your solo, the sound echoing off the walls and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Everyone was clapping, and you smiled, bowing as the lights dimmed.

As soon as it was all over, you rushed backstage and grabbed your things, ready to go home and relax. But, the minute you walked out the front door with your father, you froze.

“You were a little sharp, don’t you think? It's not terrible; it's just a bit off-key. But we can work on that next time.”

"Harvey." Your father said, not sounding all too happy. You looked up, and sure enough, there he was. “Still an asshole I see.”

"Marcus! How nice to see you too!" Harvey greeted sarcastically, nodding along. He turned his gaze to you and smiled. You could tell he was proud, even though he didn't say it.

"I thought you couldn't make it." You said, a hint of hopefulness in your voice.

"Eh, I figured why the hell not. It's not every day that my niece becomes Hannah Montana," Harvey joked, nudging you playfully. "Seriously, kiddo. You sounded great up there. You really blew it out of the water."

Your face broke out into a smile, and you rushed forward, pulling him into a tight hug. He was stiff at first, not expecting it, but he relaxed quickly. His hand came up to rest on your head, and you pulled back, a bright smile on your lips.

"Donna talked you into coming, didn't she?"

"You have no proof of that."

"I bet she had a list."

"Of reasons why you deserve the world? Absolutely," Harvey said, ruffling your hair. "But, I am glad I came. I needed a break."

"You mean you need sleep," your dad interjected, walking over to stand beside you. He was giving Harvey a stern look, but the older Spector brother couldn’t help but smirk.

"I can't believe you're still a stick in the mud. What happened to the cool dad I once knew?"

"He had to go and get an even bigger headache."

"You say headache; I say blessing," Harvey shot back, earning an eye roll from his younger brother.

"Whatever. We'll talk about it later," Marcus said, "You eating with us, Harvey?"

"If you're offering."

"Well, then let's go. I'm starving, and we can't have you pass out. Who would drive your expensive ass home?"

"Better knock it off before Katie hears you."

"She's used to it."

"Used to what?"

"Me calling you an asshole."

"Oh, yeah? What about-"

"Boys, behave." Your mother said, finally cutting into the conversation. You all turned, a bit shocked, and looked at her.

"I can't help that he's so easy to mess with," Harvey said, pointing to his brother.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm the easy target."

"Alright, alright. Come on, let's go," Katie said, putting an arm around your shoulders and guiding you toward the car. You glanced back at Harvey and waved. He smiled and waved back, falling into step beside your father.

It was a long night of bickering and laughter. A lot of it was your dad and uncle picking on each other, but it was fun. Harvey seemed to relax and not worry about anything else. He was there, and he was happy.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't too busy.

Not for you.

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