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bloodiedrogue · 1 year ago

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WHERE'S YOUR PATIENCE? (7)

SUMMARY: You and Astarion finally have the conversation. Among other things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,912

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, teasing, little bit of hand stuff, vaginal sex, CONSENT IS SEXY, mentions of past sexual/physical trauma, potential spoilers for acts 1/2.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Say thank you to the 2 bottles of Corona and the tequila shot I took to loosen up my brain enough to write this smut. I couldn't have done it without them. (And also my bardic inspiration @imgoingtofreakoutnow)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The weeks following feel like an uphill battle —a never-ending course of constant information and action all tied into one long work month. Without warning, you find yourself overwhelmingly annoyed with the pace of it all. Not to mention the unwavering guilt, knowing that if you’re not fighting hordes of Absolute cultists or doing research on how to rip the Illithid out of your head, your time is essentially wasted.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

Considering the severity of everything, even when you’re resting from a long day's work, you always find your mind wandering. Picking apart texts from old books you’ve found during infiltration missions. Oftentimes late at night when Astarion’s come back from feeding, you spend a lot of your time together relaying said thoughts. Using the late-night silence to fuel the drive that’s been missing throughout the day.

By the time you get to the Inn within the Shadowlands, you’re surprised he’s not sick of you for it. Nowadays, just the mere thought of your own voice makes you want to rip off your ears, and although you know it’s crucial that you discuss things like this, you know there are other things that are important too.

Like your shared confession. And your promise to talk of the past when you were both ready.

Since that night you haven’t asked him about it. With everything happening so quick, it’s been pushed to the back of your mind —lost amongst the clutter of thoughts that you’re often forced to leave behind. Deep down, you imagine he’s somewhat in the same boat but still, there’s even more guilt that surfaces. Filling both sides of the spectrum like an overflowing glass of water —so much so that by the time you’re gifted a proper night’s rest in an actual bed you’re already too tired to care.

As soon as you enter the Inn after your journey through the cursed shadows of the forest you head straight to the bar, barely batting an eye at the barkeep who looks you up and down, horrified by the state of your dress.

“Whiskey, please.”

“And… whatever else you got back there that doesn’t taste of fermentation.”

You turn to see Astarion already standing beside you, moving his hand to the small of your back to usher you into one of the stools. Immediately, you oblige with a sigh, blinking back sleep as you rest your bloodied elbows on the countertop, earning yourself a look of annoyance that Astarion squashes with an unfriendly scowl, showcasing his canine teeth.

If you weren’t so exhausted you probably would’ve laughed at such a sight, but considering you are, you instead let out a soft hum and down your whiskey when it’s placed in front of you, signalling for another.

“I see you’ve already decided how you’re going to spend your night off.”

Nodding your head, you barely register his words, slumping your damp forehead down against the counter with a groan. “How the fuck are we even alive?”

It’s a fair question when you take into account all that you’ve been through. All the puzzles and battles and endless expectations to now save all of Baldur’s Gate just to get these damned Illithids out of your head.

At this rate, you and everyone else should’ve been dead ages ago. Either murdered and looted for your tadpoles and their powers or already turned into tentacle-faced beasts. Not sitting next to Astarion, covered in blood, sweat and tears, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to keep going. How you’re meant to keep this unrealistic momentum of burnout over and over and—

He runs his palm along the base of your spine, drawing his fingers up and down as he takes a sip of his drink. “Hells if I know, darling.”

Feeling a bit delirious, you laugh and raise your head to look between him and the new drink in front of you. “We should’ve been dead by now.”

“You? Perhaps. Me?” He pauses to dig his digits into your aching neck, making your head fall forward again in delight. “Well, I have far too much to do after all of this is over.”

“Yeah, like what?”

When he doesn’t answer right away you remember the conversation. That moment by the fire where you kissed and confessed and told each other you’d talk about it. Immediately it fills you with anxiety, clouding your features with a worried brow and frowning lips as you crane your neck to the side.

When you look at him you notice he’s not really there. His eyes sit in their normal position, staring back but there’s nothing. Not a thought or feeling; just two empty voids surrounded by bloodied dissociation.

It pulls at your heartstrings far too much —makes you let out a breath and raise your frame to slip off the stool and move to hug him. Despite the lack of attention, he manages to follow suit as it happens, wrapping his arms around your neck as you burrow into his chest, once again sighing, wondering if you should apologize and offer your ear or merely forget the exchange entirely.

Before you can even think to do either he’s standing up, keeping his hold as he grabs your other whiskey and proceeds to drink it down, barely batting an eye.

Raising your brow at him, you feel his fingers dig into your neck again, rubbing rough circles that have you resting your forehead against his chest, trying to form any semblance of a thought.

It makes him laugh and raise his hand to your hair, running his fingers through the roots. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You’re already off and climbing the stairs before you’re able to answer. Pushing through the pain that radiates through your calves with every step. Leaning against him with tired eyes that eventually open up when the door creaks open in front you of.

Somehow you managed to earn yourself a private room. One that’s actually clean with a real bed and a tub —all of which almost have you in tears.

“Nice of them to give us some privacy, hm?” Astarion smirks down at you as he speaks, watching as you roll your eyes and finally pull yourself away, reaching for the clasps of your leather vest. Like the rest of you, it’s coated in a thick layer of dirt and blood. All of it dried and coming off in disgusting clumps that have you scrunching up your face. Brushing off the top few clasps, you try not to focus on the way it feels against your fingers. How it collects under your nails as you narrow your eyes, struggling to get the damned thing off.

It makes him scoff and pull you back in, pushing your hands aside to undo the first clasp. “I feel as though I recall a time where you claimed to be patient?”

As he moves down to the next one you shake your head and look away. “Emotionally, yes. Physically I—“

“I’d say you’re far more patient in that regard, actually.”

For a second you’re not sure what he means but then it hits you. He means sex. Physical intimacy. A line of which you hadn’t yet crossed due to several things. The main being your lack of conversation —your lack of focus to a promise you both said you wouldn't break.

Obviously, the lack of time hasn’t helped either, but as you stand there, watching his fingers pull apart your top layer, you find yourself visibly frustrated. Angry at yourself for not taking the time to offer the piece of yourself you desperately want.

After that night it was always your intention to go first. To tell him all about your past in order to open the floodgates. You figured if you were brave enough to do it —to be the one to bite the bullet— maybe he’d inevitably follow.

But then life got in the way and now nearly five weeks later it suddenly feels like you’re stuck in this limbo. One where you’re dancing on the edge, teetering with bated breath. Wondering if maybe the time is right.

As his hands move further and further you find yourself fighting your imagination. Brushing off the feelings that start to surface as you stare down at his hands, watching their delicate ministrations.

It’s apparent then that he's no stranger to the art of undress. As his fingers twist and turn to work the clasps apart, you have to stop yourself from giving in to temptation, knowing that it’s wrong. Remembering the promise you made.

Moving your hand to stop him, you clear your throat and watch his eyes. Noticing the way they filter through the air to eventually focus on you, blinking as if he wasn’t there to begin with.

“Can we talk now? Maybe?”

His hands sit against your leathers, gripping the metal with tightened fingers that still somehow manage to pale from their hold despite his complexion. “Course.”

Running your fingers along his knuckles, you slowly wrap your fists around them, bringing them up toward your mouth to place soft kisses despite the mess of battle that lingers. Then you drag him further into the room, placing him on the edge of the bed.

“Do you know who Beshaba is?” you ask, plain and simple, unsure how else to start the conversation of your past as you sit beside him.

“The deity?”

You nod, slowly, letting your gaze anxiously fall to your lap. “I grew up in one of her churches after my parents died. Learned everything I know about the world from a priestess named Hessa.”

As you try your best to further collect your thoughts, Astarion leans in, narrowing his eyes at the way your hands start to shake against your thigh.

“Is she the one in your dream?” he asks.

Without hesitation, you nod. “They thrive on infliction,” you explain after, watching him frown. Taking in the way his demeanour changes without warning to become something you’re not quite sure you've seen before. “Their doctrine revolves around fear. If you don’t participate you’re expected to endure only pain and misfortune.”

You remember growing up underneath all these women, listening to their cautionary tales of Beshaba’s terror. It instilled fear in you from the get-go —taught you that the only way to endure the horrors of this life was to devote yourself to her. To offer everything you could in exchange for peace, so you did. Unwaveringly so.

“As a child, I grew up listening to these women scare everyone for the sake of their goddess.” You pause to swallow, feeling the memories of Hessa’s knife each time you later disobeyed, slice across your skin. “Then, as an adult, I followed the cycle.”

“Willingly?”

You shrug your shoulders. “At first.”

You remember as soon as you were old enough you were sent out to recruit. To trick the minds of all the simple folk, weaving fabricated tales of disasters that were carried out by Beshaba’s hand. It was difficult to do. Seeing all those ruined minds come crawling to you for salvation —begging for forgiveness in the form of eternal loyalty.

Thankfully though, it grew old pretty quickly. The formula of travelling Faerûn, following the endless calamity and blaming it on the lack of faith was enough to pull you out of the fog. As each day passed, it became increasingly hard to pretend your faith was still intact, so you formulated a plan.

“When we arrived in Baldur’s Gate I tried to leave. In the middle of the night I abandoned my sisters —tried to run and never look back but…”

There’s a moment where your mouth just closes, trailing from the memories of your story; straying solely to the image of Hessa. To her hands and face each time she broke you apart and put you back together.

Without even trying you can feel her next to you, whispering her teachings in your ear —touching your scars with calloused hands. Her voice still has that icy hold on you even when you’re far away, keeping you still as she forces you down to kneel on the stone floor and await your punishment.

A punishment you’ll always feel you deserve. Even now that you’ve well and truly denounced the faith. Deep down you still feel the guilt of your exit. The pain of having to carry the trauma of an existence you never had the choice of living. To this day, it still eats away through the scars that line your stomach. Boring lines of betrayal across your skin.

The last thing you want to do is cry, but as the reminder of such abuse continues to penetrate your mind you find the tears falling anyway. Collecting at the edges of your eyes so quickly that you’re forced to close them in order to reset your vision.

As you do you feel Astarion wrapping himself completely around you. Pulling you into his chest with heavy hands that feel nothing like hers. Reminding you that you’re safe. That you’re here with him and nobody else.

“Is this wretched woman still stationed in Baldur’s?”

You feel his fingers on your chin, pulling your face up so that he can see you when you nod, holding back tears.

“Good. Then our destinations align.”

His voice sounds different. Instead of the usual softness or flirtation, it’s spoken through clenched teeth that strain against his throat, somehow feeling almost like a threat. An unspoken but well-articulated phrase of warning that has you sniffing and wiping your eyes. “What do you mean?”

At first, you figure he’s talking about the Illithid. The urgent need to get to Baldur’s Gate before time runs out. But then you’re ripped back to reality —to the moments where he’s briefly mentioned his desire to return home. To finish whatever business he has after this timely journey is over.

“The person who sent the hunter—“

He practically spits out his name. Cazador Szarr. A man you’re unfortunately well aware of given his reputation.

After arriving in Baldur’s Gate it was common knowledge to avoid him and his property. As awful as your church was about promoting the misfortunes of others, they made it very clear not to get involved. According to them, he was an unholy man —one that could never fully be understood due to the obvious seclusion of his person.

To this day, you've always wondered what lies behind those doors of his. What sinister things he was up to throughout the years.

However, when you look at Astarion —when you see the way his rage suddenly seems to know no bounds, you know it’s bad. Worse than bad considering Astarion hardly ever gets angry. Sure, annoyance and frustration often come out but anger —real anger— never does.

“When you told me that you wished I didn’t know what it felt like, I didn’t realize how similar our experiences were.” His fingers rub rough circles into your flesh, distracting his mind as he lets out a breath and continues. “I didn’t know the level of your pain.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“I know.”

His voice cracks. Your heart breaks. Then, both of you sit in another wave of silence, letting the words previously spoken sit at your feet as you stare at one another, trying to gauge what happens next.

You don’t anticipate his hands moving to his armour. Nor do you retain any sense of restraint when you reach to follow them, both of you working to pry it off before he pulls his tunic over his head.

Despite being on the road together for so long you’ve never seen him bare like this. So open and willing to prove to you that he's here. With you, here’s here and ready to share whatever you think you need.

Embarrassingly, it makes you want to cry all over again, reaching for his face. Feeling that familiar coolness beneath your touch as he turns to rest both hands on your hips again.

“It’s been so long since I’ve willingly wanted this.”

“This?” You look at him confused.

“To be intimate.” His fingers tighten around your flesh, digging into the plush ever so slightly. “To share the act of sex with another rather than exploit it.”

There’s a small smile that creeps through then. An inkling of hope for the vampire’s happiness as you inch in closer, placing the softest kiss you can muster to his cheek. “But you’re nervous?”

“Terribly,” he admits with a heavy breath. “In the span of 200 years I’ve bed countless men and women —all of them willing. All of them happy to have enjoyed my body only to end up at death’s door.”

It’s a lot to take in —the admittance of his faults. As soon as the first detail is uttered it’s as if the floodgates open and he’s telling you everything. From the moment he was turned and forced to crawl from his grave to the years that followed luring person after person into the Szarr home for a master so cruel you immediately wish to kill him.

“I spent so long under that bastard’s thumb that… I don’t even know who I am anymore. How I’m meant to be now that I’ve attained even the slightest bit of freedom.”

You understand how he feels. Perhaps the levels are different but deep within there’s always been this nagging feeling of how you’re supposed to live your life. How you feel as though you should be travelling the world in search of a new purpose rather than once again fulfilling someone else’s.

But then you remember what’s at stake. And how even someone else’s fate can affect your livelihood. Then it’s as if the cycle repeats itself, constantly reminding you that if you don’t participate then that’s the end. Your freedom is null just as Astarion’s, leaving you to wonder what’s the point of it all.

“I think people like you and I are just meant to live.” Your hands move up to touch his hair. Carefully, you grip his curls between your fingers, pressing the pads into his skull as you run them down, hearing him sigh. “To enjoy what little time we have.”

“Little?” He raises his brow with a smirk. “Darling, I’m immortal.”

“True but you could still become a Mind-flayer like the rest of us.”

“Fair point.”

He seems calmer now. The usual persona of his overbearing personality coming through, making you grin.

Instead of tightly wound he’s relaxed under your hold, practically melting against your touch as he lowers himself to rest on your shoulder. As he does, you end up catching a glimpse of his back, fully seeing Cazador’s work in the form of rough, red etchings that coat his entire spine.

You have to force yourself not to ask about them until he’s ready, tightening the hold you have around his head as you riddle his face in kisses, letting your lips linger against his temple as you close your eyes.

“They’re not as bad as they look,” he says then, somehow reading your mind.

As painful as it is to admit, you know he’s right. Compared to other scars you’ve seen his look undeniably perfect. The way they paint the image of what looks to be some sort of sigil against his pale flesh. Despite the violence endured to create such a piece, it’s obvious that there was care put in too. A meticulous hand working away with the precision of someone borderline obsessed.

If it wasn’t the result of abuse you could even call it beautiful. But since it’s not, you only continue to hold him, gripping his face for dear life, wondering what kind of pain he had to suffer to earn such a massive reminder of his ownership.

“Do you know what it is?”

He lifts his head, looking at you like he’s seeking the answer himself. “A brand I’m guessing. Not that I can tell. Unlike you I can’t use a mirror. Nor can I very well reach to trace the damned thing myself.”

Your fingers twitch at his words, feeling the temptation to touch them grow as you remember your own scars. In terms of appearance, they’re much more rigid. Three jagged lines that cover the middle of your stomach, making sure you remember. Ensuring your mind that every day you live on this earth —every new moment spent thinking that you’re worthy of whatever this is between you— that you’ll never be normal.

The moment they dug that first knife into your gut you were marked for life. Branded just like him.

Swallowing hard you force yourself to slip away from his grasp, watching the confusion that erupts before the understanding starts as you shakily discard your leather layer and throw your tunic over your head.

It takes everything in you not to put it back on when you see the look on Astarion’s face. How it studies you with knitted brows and a clenched jaw that makes you want to hold him again.

“Mine are just… lines. They don’t mean anything.” As you motion to the thick slashes that have been carved over countless times you catch his gaze twitching upward, taking in the exhaustion.

“She did this?”

After you nod you feel his hand move forward, ever so gently grazing the top of the centre line with curiosity. “How many times?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember how it felt?”

You press your lips together, breathing through your nose. Sucking in the Inn’s dusty air before blowing it out as you nod, forcing back the memory. Pushing through the pain as your tadpole squirms, asking to let him in.

Like all the other feelings you’ve shared as of late, it’s been so long since you’ve felt his presence like this. Even with the Illithid’s constant use outside of each other, when he calls out to you it’s completely different. The movement behind your eye doesn’t feel like an annoyance. It feels like a call. A tingle of hope that has you answering before you can even question what it is he might want.

When you answer there’s a warmth that hits your skin. Enveloping you completely, you feel the aching of the heat carry through your extremities, cascading down in anxious pools that have you breathing rather hard. Closing your eyes, you see the image of Astarion’s hands in front of you. Slowly he wiggles his fingers and turns his palms, taking in the fact that he’s safely under the sun, despite what he is.

You realize then that this is the first memory he has of freedom. Of a life where he truly believes the tether’s been severed. All the thoughts inside his mind are full of nerves. Building anxieties of the past and the future being interrupted by a present he never thought was possible.

It’s a memory that stirs you to move. To guide his hands to your waist as you crawl into his lap and grab his chin.

Touching his skin you feel that same warmth flow through to your core. Letting it take over all the thoughts of scarring and owners and the lives you’ve both lived to get to this point, it takes away your breath. Pulls from you the needs of anything but him.

In this moment, none of it matters anymore. Every experience is nothing more than a dimming shadow compared to the sensation of his breath wafting over your face as you angle your head down to look at him.

“Do you want this?”

His tongue darts out to line his lips. His hunger growing at the sight of you —at the feeling of you moulded to him like melting wax just cool enough to touch. “Yes.”

“So it’s okay if I—“

There’s a hand in your hair before you can finish, forcing you down to his mouth. It’s rough at first but quickly softens once he’s got you where he wants you. Firmly set atop his thighs and in his grasp. Allowing him enough access to reach up and touch the edge of your neck, his thumb lingering towards the centre to press a soft touch —reminding you that you have to breathe. That the usage of your lungs is no longer second nature but something you actively have to think about through the open-mouthed kisses that work to take it all away.

Your head dizzies at the feeling. All at once your vision blurs while your hands begin to roam, stretching over skin and bone, eventually hitting raised scars that make you kiss him even harder, knowing it’s what he needs. What he deserves after countless years of loveless encounters. After touches, empty of anything resembling the adoration you wish to offer him.

While laying waste to his bruising lips, you clumsily slide down his lap so that you’re standing on the ground, tucked between his open legs and bending forward.

Confused, you feel his face twist against your own, prompting you to pull away and lower yourself further, letting your knees gently come in contact with the floor.

“I was enjoying you where you were,” he muses then, cocking his head to focus on the way your hands begin to slide up over his knees, resting on each outer thigh.

“And now you’ll enjoy me over here.” You smirk.

“Cheeky pup.”

“The cheekiest.”

After that, you shuffle closer and reach for his belt, keeping eye contact every step of the way to make sure you aren’t stepping over any boundaries.

The last thing you’d want is to make him feel uncomfortable —to feel used in all the ways he used to experience. So you combat all that by checking in; offering him subtle glances every time you take the next step.

You can tell immediately that he’s appreciative. Whenever he nods there’s a faint smile that sits across his lips, offering you approval as your fingers knock against the metal clasp of his belt, shakily moving to open it up.

At some point he ends up doing it himself, leaning forward to kiss your forehead and laugh at the nerves that render your fingers useless. Nerves that only spread when you stare up at his face while his hands busily move the strap aside.

After tossing his belt aside he doesn’t let you go further. Instead, he drags you further between his legs, leaning down to cup your cheeks and kiss you all over again.

It’s distracting, to say the least. The feeling of his lips moving in tandem with your own as he reaches around to rid you of your bra with two quick swipes, leaving you just as bare as him.

It sends a shiver down your spine that makes him smirk, his upper lip quirking against yours before he gently bites down making you groan.

“Can’t let you be the only one with a view,” he mutters against you, making you awkwardly laugh as you watch his gaze lower to your naked chest. “Can I, pet?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Your voice sounds anything but confident as his hands continue their descent, matching your previous desires when they linger at your belt, waiting for you to give him the okay.

When you do he makes quick work, unclasping the belt with skillful hands before lightly smacking your ass, signalling you to stand before he carefully slides the rest of it down, thumbing the edges of your legs.

You have to force yourself not to cry out right then and there, feeling overwhelmed by the soft touch of his fingers. How they barely graze the outer parts of your already parting thighs, stopping at your knees when he looks up at you with a smirk.

“You seem nervous, darling.”

Rolling your eyes, you shove an open palm to his chest, pushing him back against the bed with a scoff. One that makes him laugh and watch as you kick off the remainder of the fabric, trying to appear brave. Something that proves to be harder than you anticipate when he swiftly follows suit, giving you a show of your own in the form of freshly exposed skin you’ve only ever imagined in the deepest corners of your mind.

In almost an instant, the fabric slips away, revealing more of him than you possibly could’ve expected, making your mind wander as the building arousal between your thighs twitches with desire. Telling you that you need this.

You open your mouth to ask for more only to be yanked upon his lap causing a yelp to fall from your lips that makes you both laugh.

“You really are a marvel, aren’t you?”

With a smile, his eyes scan your naked frame. Up and down and back, they linger at every part as if he’s studying you for future use. Taking mental notes with each passing freckle or scar that lines the length of bare skin. “I mean truly, look at you.”

As he speaks, one hand runs along your neck —over your shoulder and down your arm until it’s resting at your thigh, gripping you tight. “I’m not sure what God out there decided to make you but remind me to give them my utmost thanks after this is over.”

When he leans in you have to force yourself not to nervously laugh at his praise, once again feeling his lips find refuge on your own, driving you to take things further. Encouraging you to make him feel as good as he deserves.

This time though, instead of asking for approval with a glance you do so with a touch, reaching down to grip the end of his length with gentle hands that make him moan. Ever so quietly, the second you hear it you immediately strengthen your hold, using your free hand to grip his shoulder as you work him slowly, noticing him push. Feeling the subtle arc of his hips buck against your hand, wanting more.

For a moment you think about doing it. Letting your hand tighten further while you pick up the pace. It’d be easy. Nothing more than a simple readjustment but something mischievous stops you from doing it.

Remembering that night at the grove —the one where he relentlessly teased just to get a rise out of you— you find yourself smirking and pulling away, gripping his shoulder even tighter to keep him in place.

Almost immediately, he knows exactly what you’re doing. He can feel it in the way you languidly pull at his cock, barely holding on with each stroke.

“You think you’re clever, do you?”

You quirk your brow and bite your lip, massaging the apex of his shoulder. “I have to be if I’m going to be hanging around you.”

Furthering his torment, you then tighten your grip for a couple more pumps before returning to your previous pace, eliciting a hiss of disapproval that has him gripping both your hips and maneuvering you to sit against his right thigh.

“Oh really?”

Pushing up into your core, Astarion shifts you back and forth with his hands, making your breath catch inside your throat once you realize what you’ve done. How you’ve instantly set yourself up for a failure you know he’ll only revel in winning.

Considering he’s more than capable of making you fluster solely with words, you should’ve expected this —saw it coming from a mile away.

Continuing your ministrations as lazily as possible, he barely registers them as he glides your folds against his leg. Holding you down, he manages to apply the perfect amount of pressure to build the tension, making you press your lips tightly together, forcing back any sound that might be deemed a loss.

Even though it’s anything but a competition. A detail that’s reminded once he maneuvers one of his hands to cup your sex, rubbing rough circles into your clit.

It makes you lose all semblance of thought, forgetting the hold you have on his cock as you shakily reach for his other shoulder, steadying yourself against him.

“Doesn’t it feel nice when you give in?”

Despite the context, there’s surprisingly no snark to his words. No sarcasm or bite —just genuine thought. A question so true to its word that all you can do is pant through the building pleasure and nod; letting him raise you off his leg and station himself at your entrance.

It fills your mind to the brim with needs and wants you never thought you’d feel again. Having been subjected to abuse and then forced upon a journey you’re still not sure you’re ready for, the thought of attachments like this never once crossed your mind.

Even after everything you’d been through, you never thought Astarion was capable of such tenderness —of loving care and safekeeping. Of gentle touches that run across your aching skin as he looks at you and you at him, both of you deciding it’s okay.

As soon as it’s given, he’s sliding into you. Painfully slow, he uses the approval to grant you access to your shared pleasure, pushing through the tightness just as you open your mouth.

“Feel alright?”

Your fingers press against his neck as they slide up to cup his chin so you can pull your foreheads together. “More than alright.”

Through an unsteady breath, he laughs and guides you further down, allowing you both to savour the sensation for a moment before pulling back out again.

As soon as he’s missing you’re already longing for more. Desperate for the fill of his cock, prompting a whine to escape; earning yourself a tut.

“Remember patience?”

You do. More than anything in this moment you remember your claim and how foolish it was to think he wouldn’t forget it.

“I recall you saying—"

“Astarion, please.”

You’re not sure if it’s the anguish in your voice or the squirming of your hips that does it, but almost instantly he’s giving in. Once again offering you exactly what you need in the form of a push and pull so viscerally satisfying you’re left slumped against his chest, keeping hold of his neck. Forcing his hand to grip the back of your head to see the way he ruts inside of you.

It’s a sight that’s almost too much. One that makes you moan and close your eyes, allowing him to move your face to his. At which point you’re on the precipice of ruin. Both body and mind becoming a mess of everything and nothing, forcing your breath to falter.

You can tell Astarion’s in the same boat, struggling to maintain his starting pace the longer you mindlessly grind against him, unable to contribute much of anything else.

Together, the two of you try to move in unison, pushing and pushing —inhaling and exhaling. Anything you can do to share the burden of the building pleasure that grows and grows until—

When it hits, it feels better than you imagined. Deep within there’s a blooming that unfolds, petal by petal, opening to reveal unholy tremors that make you release a heavy plume of air through your closed lips.

Gripping you close, you can feel Astarion follow quickly behind, twitching inside before he inevitably spills out, making both of you groan and fall back onto the bed in a fit of nervous laughter before he cheekily suggests you make use of the tub.

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi

(If you'd like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form. Also, if your name isn't on here and it should be I couldn't tag you so message me and I'll try again next time!)

#where's your patience?#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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bingbongsupremacy · 11 months ago

Text

Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: reader is able to get pregnant, pet names, argument, idk what else.

Summary: It's getting harder and harder to spend time with your husband and you have some really important news. (Pre-Outbreak)

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

ABC List

*****

The room is silent, the only noise coming from our TV. Light bounces off of the walls, casting a small glow on the coffee table that moves.

I curl deeper into the couch, watching as the clock ticks by.

8:30....9:15....10:45....11:12...

Finally I hear keys jingling from the front door.

" You're still up? " Joel's voice is tired and raspy. He pulls off his boots, leaving them near the front door. " Is Sarah still up? "

I shake my head, rubbing my heavy eyes. " No. She's over at Gina's, down the street, for a sleepover. "

Joel wanders into the kitchen, pulling a can of beer out of the fridge. He takes a swig before heading towards the living room. For a moment, neither of us talks.

" You were supposed to be home at 6. " I glance over at the man. I take in his appearance. His eyes are dark from clear exhaustion. His shirt is covered in grime. It's obviously been a long day.

" I was. " He agrees, not saying anything more. He takes another sip of his beer. Condensation forms on the can, dripping down his hand.

His answer doesn't satisfy me. " Why weren't you? Why didn't you call? " I press.

This has been happening often. Every few days he stays out later than normal, most of the time, he 'forgets' to call.

Joel lets out a sigh, obvious frustration filling his expression. " I got caught up in my work. It wasn't supposed to go past 6, but stuff happens. You know that, babe. "

Irritation fills my body. " And you couldn't have bothered to, I don't know, check your watch and maybe call me? I was worried sick, Joel. I stayed up even though I have to be up at 6 for work tomorrow. " I push myself up, looking towards his face. Looking for something, something other than annoyance.

I was really hoping he'd be here at 6.

" I didn't ask you to do that. You could've gone to bed. Don't blame me for your decisions. I told you, I lost track of time. I don't have my phone on me when I'm working. " Joel's gaze meets mine.

Anger runs through my body. Usually I'm not this quick to anger but the hormones are driving me insane. The stress of unknowing along with Joel's careless attitude sends rage flowing through my body. " You really could give less of a shit about Sarah and me, huh? " I seethe, not thinking through my words.

Joel's eyes narrow. " What the fuck do you mean? " He starts getting defensive. " Of course I give a shit about you! I fucking work my ass off, for you two! " Joel's tone rises.

" Then why do you keep doing shit that makes us worry? " I exclaim. " You could have called at any point and it would've helped me feel better. I understand that you don't keep your phone on you while working, but is it really that hard to take a five minute break to call me? God-you need a break anyways! You'll fucking hurt yourself if you're constantly working. " My heart pounds. I stand up, trying to get some space between the man and I.

Joel stands up as well. His eyes burn into mine, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine.

I hate when we get into arguments. My hormones and his exhaustion are mixing together to create a toxic cloud of anger and frustration.

" Like you'd even answer the fucking phone. " Joel rolls his eyes. " You've been so busy talking to your stupid fucking friends that it's nearly impossible to call you sometimes. "

He isn't wrong. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, and I wanted-no I needed to tell someone. I wanted to make the announcement to Joel and Sarah important, something memorable. At the time, I just needed to tell someone else.

They've been there for me this entire time, helping me plan tonight. Helping me plan the dinner and gift for Joel.

A gift he never got to open and a dinner he never got to eat.

" Well I gotta talk to someone, Joel. You're never around anymore. " I snap.

" I'm working! " Joel lets out a breath.

" Your unbelievable. " I shake my head. I let out an angry laugh. " You know what, fuck this, Joel. You're not even listening to me. The point isn't that you're working late, it's that you don't bother to call home and tell me about it. I care about you, Joel. What-What if you got hurt? What if you got into a car crash or fucking died somehow? I'd have no idea because you don't bother to call me. All I want is one call, and that's too much to ask of you. " I push past the broad shouldered man. " Your dinner's in the fucking oven. It's your favorite. "

With that I storm upstairs, grateful Sarah wasn't here to witness the fight. I barely close the bedroom door before the tears start to flow.

Downstairs I hear Joel curse as he drops something on the ground. I lean against the door, doing my best to listen to the man below. His footsteps die off as he most likely settles onto the couch.

I just want him to call home.

_______

The next morning I leave before Joel wakes up. I send a quick text to Sarah, letting her know there's some food in the fridge.

My day seems to fly by. Piles of paperwork seem to disappear in minutes. Before I know it, it's time to head home.

An unsettled feeling wracks my stomach, surely not a good feeling for the baby. I'm still pissed at Joel. I just wish he understood where I'm coming from.

I unlock the front door and am immediately met with silence.

No one's home.

I let out a small sigh, walking towards the kitchen. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot Joel sitting at the kitchen table, a pair of small shoes in his hands.

He found the gift.

Of course he did, I left it on the dresser last night.

" Surprise. " I state while making my way to the fridge. " You're gonna be a daddy. Again. " My voice is unenthusiastic. Not the way I planned telling him at all.

" I'm so fucking sorry. " Joel blurts out. He runs his rough fingers over the small white laces, following the rhythm of the string. " I'm an asshole. "

" That you are. " I agree.

Joel finally looks up at me. His sad expression breaks my anger. Suddenly, I'm torn. Do I keep acting angry or do I feel bad for him?

" I deserve that. I-I shouldn't have yelled at you last night. Pregnant or not- You didn't deserve that. I took out my anger on you. I've...fuck I'll just tell you. I've been working late to try to make some extra money for us. I wanted to take you somewhere for our anniversary. "

I take a seat next to him, shock filling my body. I had no idea.

" You're right, I should've called you. That was a dick move. I...I don't know why I didn't. I guess I was just scared I'd be tired and I'll accidentally tell you something? It doesn't fucking matter now. "

" Oh Joel..."

He continues. " I'm sorry about dinner last night. I should've come home. " He finishes, finally setting the shoes down into the small gold box I put them in originally.

I don't say anything. I wrap my arms around the man, sinking my head into the crook of his warm neck. " Yes, you should've called, but I shouldn't have have been so aggressive. My emotions have just been all over the place. " My eyes begin to tear up. I feel a tightness in the back of my throat as I pull away from Joel. " I feel so much angrier than I usually do. "

Joel pulls me back into his embrace. " It's okay, honey. It's the baby. It's okay. " He tries to sooth me. " I love you so much, and I promise, I'm going to cut back my hours. "

" And you're gonna call, right? " I look up at him from my spot against his chest.

" Yes, I swear I'll call from now on. I have to, what if something happens to you and the baby. " He furrows his brows in worry. " I'll call you every hour. I promise. "

I let out a small laugh, wiping a tear away. " I think every few hours is okay, babe. "

" No every half hour. Who knows what could happen. Your office has steep stairs-we should see if the elevator there is fixed yet. " Joel mutters.

" Okay that might be a little overkill. " I crinkle my nose. " How about you just call when you're going to be late. Alright? "

" I can do that. "

#fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us

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hergrandplan · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I hope you're having a nice day!😊 Not sure if you're still taking the 5 sentence thingy but I was thinking of Wilmon💜 and "So you're saying we got lost and we don't know where we are?".

Hi! I'm so sorry that this is so late, but I couldn't figure it out until last night lol. Warning: angst ahead (disclaimer: this thing is inspired by a little AU I worked on a few months ago and is partially written on a train so please excuse any mistakes💜

“So, you’re saying we got lost and we don’t know where we are?” Simon stared aheaf of him, at the snow-covered road, the miles and miles of nothingness.

Beside him, Wille hit the navigation again, but it still wouldn’t come to life.

“Told you we should’ve taken a map.” Simon thumped his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. At least they were in a car, somewhat warm and shielded from the elements. “This wouldn’t have happened with a map.”

“I’m sorry,” Wille said. “I know this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your Christmas.” He was silent for a moment, then Simon heard him let out a bitter chuckle. “Stuck in a car with your ex.”

Simon opened one eye, glancing at Wille next to him. “I’m not stuck in a car with my ex. I’m stuck in a car with my friend.”

Simon didn’t miss the quick grimace that came over Wille’s face, before he schooled it back in a more neutral look. “Right. Friends. Forgot we were that for a second.”

Simon turned his head to look at him, frowning. “I mean – we are. That’s why I invited you along to pick up my mom’s gift.”

“Don't lie to me. You called me ’cause you needed my car." Wille's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, even though they hadn't been driving for at least 15 minutes now.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I called you ‘cause I wanted to spend time with you, because you are my friend.”

“Because that’s the only reason you call me nowadays!” Wille snarled, whipping around to face Simon. “You only reach out when you need something from me, whether it’s picking up your mom’s Christmas gift or se—“

“Don’t,” Simon warned. “Don’t you dare go there.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” It was now that Simon saw the anger simmering in Wille’s eyes, and wondered how long it had been there. “I don’t hear anything from you all year," Wille continued, "while you’re living your fancy life in Los Angeles or New York or wherever the fuck you live now, god knows I don’t know ‘cause you don’t talk to me, and then the minute you get back here you just pretend like everything is just as you left it. Well guess what, Simon?" Wille's breathing had become shallow, consisting of quick, angry breaths. "Things change in your absence. You may think that the whole fucking world revolves around you now, and your tours and your albums, but that doesn’t mean that we stop living the second you leave. It doesn’t mean that we don’t go on.”

“I don’t think the world revolves around me!” Simon yelled back, the car suddenly feeling too small to be having this kind of conversation.

“Don’t you? You certainly expect me to still be the exact same, knocking on my door in the middle of the night because you feel lonely. As if loving you wasn’t already the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, there you go again messing with my head.”

Simon stilled, and he gazed up at Wille. “You once said loving me was as easy as breathing.”

He saw that bitter grimace cross Wille’s face again, but this time it didn’t disappear. “That was back when you still loved me too.”

Simon’s heart thumped in his throat and there were tears, threatening to spill down his cheeks. The words were soft, afraid that if he spoke them any louder his voice would crack. “Who says I ever stopped?”

Send me a sentence + wilmon and get 5 (or many) more!

#this was painful to write but #oh well #also i am still taking prompts but... im slow #young royals #wilmon #yr fanfic #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfic #young royals fanfiction #wilmon fanfic #simon eriksson #prince wilhelm #yr ficlet #1 + 5 sentence game

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byuljoonie · 1 year ago

Text

moonlight // knj

I’m sorry baby I’m just really hot…

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: one shot, slight angst, fluff, growing tension, boyfriend material, extreme smut, desperation, succubus intentions…

word count: 5k+ (sorry)

warnings: mentions of mature topics, spit, namjoon driving lmao, thigh humping bcs desperate, throat goat, dom!sub, dom rm!sub reader, alcohol consumption, probably a good amount of swearing, post-gym namjoon, grocery store activities, slight car play, teasing, oral, summer night, riding, overstimulation, a little masochism

summary: namjoon promised to go to the grocery store with you after the gym (extended ending on ao3)

note: just had what cody ko and noel would call a “power thought.” I literally just had a spark of inspiration bcs it’s really hot in the south right now and Namjoon’s vogue cover is to die for. enjoy and feel free to check out any of my playlists while reading. Sorry for any little mistakes. gonna make a tag list after I post 10 works! -ash (wrote this draft a few months ago so it might be slightly more extreme than expected.)

My reflection stared back at me, tracing the movement of the cloth against my skin. The long slit of the black fabric starts by the left knee and leaves an opening at the bottom of the dress. My manicured feet sat firmly against the hardwood bedroom floor, grounding me away from my persistent thoughts. I grabbed my sunglasses from the stand mounted on the cream walls and turned swiftly on my heels. Abandoning the mirror with a grimace on my face.

I loved this dress very much, the long sleeves light and airy protecting me from the harsh summer rays. The way it hugs my figure is like someone familiar. The same someone that bought this dress for me. He crossed my mind once more sending another surge of anger through me.

Namjoon promised to come along to the grocery store with me today but he’s been at the gym for almost 2 hours now. He said he’d only be gone an hour but an hour quickly turned to two, now I’m dressed and past ready to go. I hated going to crowded stores, at this rate we’ll never beat the after-work rush.

I sat on the bed putting on my anklet he gifted me for our 3 year anniversary. Yet another gift that I’m wearing today, being spoiled ruining my plans of holding a grudge tonight on our date. I slipped on some black socks and made my way towards the door. Listening as the front door swings open with a beep of the automatic keypad.

I excitedly descend the stairs, my black dress sweeping the floor behind me beautifully like a wedding gown flowing in the summer breeze. The second step I’ve already failed at trying to be mad at him.

“Baby! Where you at?” He says deep voice roaring through our apartment. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs almost running into his chest. He smiled at me taking in all of my body, returning to my eyes after his brief but thorough inspection.

“Right here NAMjoon,” I stated putting extra emphasis on his surname. I watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath, his skin glistened with sweat. Tan skin accentuating his muscular frame, my mouth parted slightly at the sight. He looked heavenly I almost lost my composure.

“I’m sorry I took so long Y/N my trainer wouldn’t let me leave until the workout was complete,” he said walking towards me. Smirking at the way my eyes followed his every movement.

“You look so gorgeous Princess, this dress is perfect for you,” he said pulling me into a tight embrace. Grabbing a handful of my ass as he reached over to rest his chin on my shoulder. I yelp in surprise at the sudden groping, melting into his body and giving up on being angry. I wanted to take him right now but first, we need food or we’ll be eating out for another week before we have time to shop again.

“Whatever Joon go shower we have to leave as soon as possible and you’re stinky,” I said pulling away from him and then standing on my tippy toes to kiss him quickly. He kissed me back beginning to deepen it before I push him away again. I give him a knowing look and bid him goodbye as I walk to the kitchen to make him a snack to eat in the car. The store was about a 25 minute drive from us but it was worth it for the produce.

I grab a few ingredients from the fridge to make him a nice sandwich with an everything bagel. I prepared everything quickly and put it in a small ziplock bag next to my purse. I heard Namjoon exiting our bedroom 15 minutes later, humming a sweet tune in his beautiful vibrato.

“Come on babe I already have the car warming up,” he said grabbing my hand and lightly pulling me next to him. He’s wearing a light brown shirt with a pair of distressed blue jeans. Looking as handsome as always I drink in his appearance for eternity. We walked to the elevator quietly, Namjoon tapping away on his phone until the elevator doors opened to be let us out.

As we walk towards our car I begin to sweat a little, the setting Sun still scorching my skin like its’ noonday twin. I started to speed up a little pulling Namjoon along so I could feel the relief of the A/C sooner than later. He swung the door open for me making sure my dress wasn’t in the way before shutting the door.

Namjoon jumps in quickly closing the door before the heat could penetrate the closed air. It still wasn’t cool enough in here, with the sun beaming directly on our vehicle the A/C felt like lukewarm hell. I let down the window hastily fanning myself as we pulled out of the parking lot.

After I few minutes of fanning and desperation, I looked over and behold a sight that would make any woman yearn in an instant. A head of sweat moved swiftly down the expanse of Namjoons golden jaw. Resting at the base before dropping down onto his slightly exposed shoulder. His lips rose colored from his unconscious biting. I wanted to reach over and swallow him whole, I crave him so bad I can’t help but squeeze my legs together at the thought.

I was so caught up in my sinful thoughts I didn’t notice him glance over at me. A twinkle in his eye set off the indication of a torturous idea. Namjoon placed his large hand on my thigh, causing me to tense up instantly. Before I could utter a word he reached over my leg and grabbed his sandwich from my lap.

His smile turning into a stifled laugh as he continued to stare straight ahead. I must have let out the small noise I was holding in because he seemed to know exactly what would tick me off right now. I turned my attention towards the windshield trying to focus on the passing cars and people watching. Then an idea popped into my head.

I pull out my phone and open the group chat I have with our 6 best friends. I stop and think of what to type before another brilliant idea is brought to me. I pose provocatively making sure my cleavage was “present,” in my photo. I took a couple of pictures, some with sunglasses and some staring at Namjoon. He patiently drove, oblivious to my sly intentions. He hummed along to one of his favorite songs looking over at me to shoot me a wink.

I giggled and looked away almost feeling bad for what I’m going to do. Yet not bad enough because I went ahead and sent the photos with a message. “Should I post these on my close friends? I don’t know if I look good enough today…” I said ending with a sad face. It didn’t take long for our phones to simultaneously vibrate. Secretly glancing over at Namjoon, I unlock my phone knowing he can’t check his until we’re in the lot.

Hobi ddaeng: You look great !! Of course, you should post it, Namjoon talk some sense into her.

Me: He’s driving right now. I didn’t ask for his opinion yet I want to hear you guys first :)

Park Chanel: ooooh…I see…

Park Chanel: If you don’t post the pictures I will! Wow wow you look beautiful. Nice..dress and necklace.

I looked down at my neck realizing I didn’t wear a necklace today. Oh Jimin you’re evil Namjoon is going to kill me and you. I laughed a little at his crude behavior and read the next incoming message.

Yoongi: You’re gonna get hit Jimin *laughing emojis*

Me: mmm just because you guys said so I will post it hehe

Before I could read the next response I felt the car shake as we pulled into the grocery store parking lot. I quickly went on my sns and posted two of the pictures on my close friends. Picking the two the boys liked the most. I was starting to get nervous, I know how possessive he is with me and I’m the same but I want revenge for making me frustrated.

Namjoon pulls into an open parking spot almost near the front of the bustling building. I take off my seatbelt with a click grabbing my purse from my lap and swinging the door open. I wanted to beat Namjoon inside before he could read the texts and catch me. As I hurriedly closed the door I saw him reading the messages, jaw tensing with rage.

I hear him call my name from the car and a slam of a car door followed behind the sound of his sexy voice. His long legs easily closing the space between us as he grabbed my hand, squeezing it while looking at me. I put my shades on ignoring his questions. Stroking the back of his hand as I never break eye contact with the automatic sliding doors.

“Can you get us a cart pet?” I froze at the nickname. He knows what he’s doing, and I don’t plan on breaking that fast. I let go of his hand briefly going to grab the first cart I saw. Cleaning the handle before strutting back over to my boyfriend as he eyed me intensely.

I let him grab the cart from me but not before pulling him down to whisper in his ear. “Anything for you Daddy..” I say in a hushed tone. Making sure to leave a kiss on his sensitive earlobe as I pull away.

I walk forward trying not to laugh at the silly nickname I used to get him riled up. He trailed behind me, failing to hide his blatant staring at my ass. We make our way down the aisles trying to speed up the process as people begin piling into the store.

“Joonie baby I can’t reach this,” I said struggling to reach the box of goldfish on the top shelf. He moved over to me in a flash, pressing his front flush against my back. I heard his breathing stop as I purposely pushed my ass against him.

“This one, this one, this one, or this one…” He trailed off purposely picking the wrong boxes to tease me. He finally grabbed the correct item and tossed it in the cart. Walking away as if he didn’t leave me speechless and flustered on the cracker aisle.

I follow him to the snack aisle after grabbing a few bottles of wine and champagne for our date tonight. The empty aisle presents another opportunity for me to assert my dominance. I walk over to the chips looking at them inquisitively as if I’m mocking a character.

“Honey do you want this kind or this kind?” I said while bending over. Making sure to sway slowly as I wait for an answer. “Babe? Which-“ I was cut short as a hand firmly grabbed my ass causing me to yelp in surprise and sit up straight.

“I want this one right here,” he growled in my ear. I turned around and looked at him, watching his eyes darken with hunger. “Let’s get outta here yeah?” He questioned looking into my eyes. I nodded furiously ready to exit this hell and get home to what’s waiting.

We race to the self-checkout line, scanning and bagging groceries like a 5000-dollar prize is awaiting the winner. Namjoon grabbed my hand after he paid and pulled me along with him as he pushed the basket with his other hand. He was so warm, skin clear and kissable. I wanted to pull him aside and cover him in kisses, not caring about the people around us.

Namjoon unlocks the car as we stop beside it. I move to walk around the cart but he stops me in my tracks. “Let me help you get the groceries in the car love,” I say looking confused at his sudden maneuver.

Unexpectedly, he opened the car door and motioned for me to get inside. I insisted again that I help but he gave me a look that I know better than to disobey. I got inside praying I didn’t anger him too much. I set myself up for this one, didn’t I? It’ll be worth it in the end right? Maybe I went a little too far with the texts but I can’t help but shiver with anticipation. I pull out my phone to text Jimin about my bad decisions.

Me: I think I fucked up lol

Park Chanel: you’re welcome ;)

Namjoon slams the trunk shut causing me to jump in surprise. I close my phone sitting it in the cup holder beside me. He gets in the car, jaw still tense as he turns the key in the ignition. I thought about breaking the silence but the tension was so thick a knife would recoil at the slight pressure of penetration. Namjoon puts on his seatbelt then proceeds to look at me.

“ I don’t want to hear another peep from you Y/N..” he starts lowly not breaking eye contact for a second. “You’ve done enough for tonight, if you do anything stupid I swear I will pull the car over and take you on the side of the road. I promise you wouldn’t want that.” He deadpans and looks away from me, pulling out of the parking spot. I utter a soft okay and prepare to behave the rest of the way home.

I slide my palm over to his free hand resting on his thigh. I stare firmly at him, giving my best puppy eyes in return. He doesn’t look away from the road but I watch as his lip twitches into a small smile. He grabs my hand, rubbing his large thumb over the back of my hand. In love can’t begin to describe how I truly feel about this man.

I laugh as he tries to sing along to Smoke Sprite, raspy voice blending well with Soyoon. I rap along to his part of the song, stealing the spotlight and making him bop his head in excitement. The song finishes and we’re about 10 minutes from our place. I check my phone and see a text from our group chat, making the recent grocery store escapades flash through my mind. I want him to touch me again, I like it when he’s desperate and needy for me.

Another terrible idea floods my brain accompanied by a mound of outcomes. I suddenly let go of Namjoons hand causing him to spare me a confused expression. A smile graced my face as I turned my body forward, grabbing the slit of my dress and opening it over my legs. I let my left hand run down the front of my dress, stopping at my panties hesitating even.

I slide my hand under the fabric immediately coming in contact with the soft skin. I dip my fingers and get to work. I began letting out dramatized moans and grunts. I moan Namjoon's name and furiously let my hand lose control. I looked over and saw Namjoon gripping the steering wheel in frustration. Sweat adorned his angelic face, veins prominent in his hands. I let this go on until we reached the last stop light near our apartment building. I sat up and closed my legs acting like I didn’t just masturbate next to my boyfriend in a moving car.

We pull into the lot entering our designated spot. Namjoon quietly turned off the engine and released a sigh that he seemed to have been holding in. He looks absolutely pissed and it’s so sexy. His erratic breathing only made me wetter by the second.

“You’re going to follow my instructions carefully. I don’t want to hear a word from you or tonight will be your worst fucking nightmare got it?” He questioned angrily letting his eyes trail over my body once more. I nodded too scared to move an inch more.

“Go upstairs, get undressed, wait in the middle of the bed. If you’re not in that spot when I come up there in 15 minutes, you better pray you can stop time.” He seethes hotly. “Yes sir,” I say scared and ready for more. He gets out of the car walks around and opens my door. He grabs my purse from my lap holding eye contact, his brown almond eyes dark and predatory.

“Go.” He states motioning for me to exit the vehicle. I get out swiftly, grabbing my purse from his hand and sprinting towards the entrance of the building. The elevator took an eternity to bring me to our floor. I ran to the door and shakily put in the passcode, messing up a few times before it finally let me in.

My shoes are off in a flash, I leave my purse by the door as well abandoning my shades on the counter as I run past to the stairs. I burst into our room, slipping my dress off. Almost fell as I grabbed my silk lavender robe hanging on the wall. I threw it on and climbed onto the bed. My anklet glowed in the natural light seeping through the parted curtains. The front door swung open slamming against the wall.

I heard shuffling, cabinets opening and closing for 10 more minutes before his heavy footsteps echoed through our hallway. He walked into the room eyeing me before raising an eyebrow. I started to sweat nervously hoping I did what I was told.

“Who told you to put on your robe Y/N?” He questioned in amusement. He slowly walked over to me, grabbing each side of the robe and ripping it open. He discarded it onto the floor and stalked around the bed, he stood at the front motionless. “On your knees in front of me, now.” He said and I immediately left the bed. I swung my legs over the side and dropped to my knees.

Namjoon watched me through lidded eyes as I crawled over to him on my knees, stopping directly in front of his growing bulge. I was quick to unlatch the hook of his buckle, the metal of the belt clinging as it hit the hardwood floors.

“I’ll excuse the robe mishap since you’re so eager to taste me doll face,” he said reaching down to grab my chin. A loud moan echoed through the room as he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. He looked down at me, motioning his head back as if telling me to open up. I did as I was told and watched as he spit in my mouth and closed it back. He pulled his pants down and kicked them to the side.

“Good girl, now eat.” He said intensely. He hummed in satisfaction, eyes never leaving the way I wrapped my fingers around his cock and finally engulfed his length into the warmth of my mouth. I took him in slowly inch by inch, his girth heavy against my tongue as I extended my jaw wider and wider. I choked a little as he hit the back of my throat.

“You look so fucking gorgeous with your lips wrapped around me, pet,” his fingers tightened into my hair, his gaze stoic and heavy on me. Pet. The pet name earned a moan from me as I began a steady rhythm of sucking. My fingers were coated in a thick layer of saliva, Namjoon’s cock easily sliding against my pressured grip as my cheeks hollowed, jaw growing sore from my strenuous movements.

He groaned loudly, fucking my throat faster until I could no longer take it. I let my jaw go slack so he could use me as his personal toy. He grabbed my face and fucked it harder until I was seeing stars. A beautiful repetition of my name strung from his tongue, stilling as he came into my mouth. I happily swallowed every drop, coughing around his cock one last time, sending a shiver through his body.

“Good job, get on the bed I want to taste you. I can see you dripping on the floor,” he smirks as he picks me up and helps me onto the bed. He walks around and gets in the middle of the bed, watching me as I sit patiently waiting for instructions.

“Come here baby, sit on my face,” he motioned for me to come to him. I slowly crawled towards him, bracing myself on his lap. He kissed me roughly, tasting himself on my tongue, running his hand down to play with my chest. Nipples sensitive to the touch, he pulls away from me, taking my right breast in his mouth. Sucking and nibbling on me, teasing me. He pulled off with a pop, scooting further down the bed and then lifting me so I could move towards his face.

I place my hands on the headboard hovering over his face in anticipation. He suddenly grabs my thighs and pulls me down onto him. I scream out in pleasure as he dives into my center. Feverishly lapping his tongue at my pussy like it’s the last time he’ll have me. His moans send intense vibrations through my body, making me scream his name. We’ll have a noise complaint tomorrow.

I felt my orgasm coming on, riding his tongue until my legs were sore. He let go of my left thigh to slap my ass hard, signaling me to cum on his tongue. I came with a loud groan of his name. Shaking and twitching as I came down from my high.

Namjoon grabbed my hips, gently guiding me down to his lap. His face was covered in my essence, from nose to chin, he glistened like an Angel. He smiled and rubbed circles on my tummy as he watched me shake.

“Don’t think we’re done darling, I’m not finished until I see my cum dripping down your pretty legs.” He gave me one last smile before his eyes darkened once more. He grabbed my hips and lifted me slightly, sticking his girth fully inside me. I sank slowly, letting him fill me to the brim. Tears streamed down my cheeks loving the painful stretch in my core.

“Ride me until I say stop.” He deadpanned motioning for me to move or else. I started to ride him painfully slow, not being able to take much more. This was my opportunity to finally seize control. I picked up the pace, rhythmic grunts and sounds of skin slapping filled the room. I put my hands on his chest and let my hips do the talking.

I ground down harder, spelling his name with every swift motion of my hips. I felt his cock twitch inside of me, indicating he was close already. Now that I have control I’m going to make him feel everything he did to me. I moved faster, causing the bed to shake and tremble with every shout of his name.

He grabbed my hips trying to make me slow down but I only grind down harder. Clenching and tightening around him to send me him over the edge. I watched as his orgasm roared through him, eyes rolling to the back of his head. I kept moving, milking everything from him. Getting closer to my orgasm, I let myself go with one last yell of his name.

Squeezing my eyes shut as I finally stilled. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room, the bed creaking as I rolled off of him. Shivering as the empty feeling overtakes me when he’s not inside of me. “I hope I didn’t get too carried away,” I started while looking over at my completely wrecked boyfriend.

“That was perfect.” He said smiling over at me. He slowly stood up, going to our bathroom to retrieve a towel. He returned momentarily, cleaning me off and then cleaning himself. Throwing the towel in the hamper against the wall. I was so exhausted I could barely move. I got under our giant duvet, getting comfortable fairly quickly.

Namjoon glanced at me, nestled under the warm blankets, my eyes getting heavy with exhaustion. He promised me a special date night and he was determined to make it happen, even if he just put me to sleep. With a gentle smile, his aftercare continued.

“Hey, babe,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of loose hair from my face. “I know you’re tired but I don’t want our date night to go to waste.”

I yawned in response and mumbled sleepily, “Joonie I’m so comfy right here.” Earning a chuckle from him, my reluctance seeped through the atmosphere. “I know, but trust me, you won’t regret it. I’ve got something in the living room set up for us.”

That caused me to sit up, curiosity overcoming my fatigue. “Oh? What is it?” I said carefully. “It’s a surprise, but I promise it’ll be worth it.” He said leaning in to plant a kiss on my forehead.

With his gentle encouragement, I reluctantly pushed the covers aside and allowed Namjoon to help me out of bed. He passed me the discarded robe and my slippers, and together we made our way to the living room.

Where soft candlelight flickered with a movie on the screen waiting to be played. As I settled onto the couch I couldn’t help but smile at the effort Namjoon had put into creating this romantic haven. A charcuterie board with our favorite snacks and 2 bottles of the wine we purchased earlier were on the coffee table.

Namjoon plopped down beside me, taking my hand in his. “See princess? Our date night in the living room isn’t so bad, is it?” He said grinning like he won the lottery. My fatigue began to dissipate as I basked in the warmth of Namjoon's love and effort. “Not bad at all,” I said, feeling grateful for his consistency and thoughtfulness.

“Let’s start the movie I’m so excited!” I exclaimed pumping my fist in the air embarrassingly hard. Namjoon laughed and mimicked me, making me laugh even harder than before. The first half of the movie went by as we stuffed our faces with food and downed wine like it was our last supper. I was starting to feel tipsy and before I knew it my thoughts started wandering again.

“Mmm, these snacks are-“ Namjoon started as he reached for the charcuterie board. I interrupted his thought by grabbing his hand. Namjoon looked at me puzzled, “huh?” He says in surprise. I move closer and settle onto his lap. “I want to be closer to you,” I said, hands resting on his toned chest.

Namjoon blinked at me, a tipsy smile forming on his lips, “Well I can’t argue with that pet.” I look into his eyes exploring the galaxies I can reach within them. “You know, I love nights like these, just you and me, a movie, some wine…” I rambled to him.

“Yeah, me too. It’s moments like this when I realize how lucky I am to have you in my life baby.” He said while lost in my eyes. Searching for something, something that he knows I have. I leaned in slowly, our lips almost touching, “I love you Namjoon.” I kissed him before he could respond. Feeling his emotions spill into our kiss. He pulled us apart gently, rubbing his hand on my cheek. “I love you too Y/N.”

He grabbed my face and captured my lips again. A thief that could do no wrong in my eyes, I deepened the kiss craving more of him. Needing to feel something more. I slowly began moving my hips on his thigh, grinding down onto the exposed skin, earning a guttural groan from his throat.

His hands moved down the side of my body, exploring every curve, touching every mark he left on me this evening. He landed on my hips, guiding me to my last orgasm with his strong hands. The air was hot once more, soft moans and sweet nothings penetrated the quiet.

The movie is long forgotten, the candlelight coating the walls in a beautiful golden glow. I felt my orgasm building quickly, still sensitive from the earlier assault on my clit. Namjoon began bouncing his leg, adding more pressure on my center, and sending me over the edge.

I kiss him one last time before I fall fast asleep on him.

The end.

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animeredhead101 · 5 months ago

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Damian Wayne / Danny Fenton Masterlist

Complete

Incision by DizzlyPuzzled :

Healing takes time, as much as is needed Word Count: 45,191 Completed

He is Halfa My Soul, As The Poets Say by Rose_Finch :

Danny stops by a 7-11 while on a drive.

He meets his soulmate.

- He furrowed his brows before looking down at their connection. The same connection he abandoned every time he went ghost. It shimmered, green turning into blue. Damian had a bag of chips in his hand, some sort of spicy Doritos.

He looked casual , for some fruitloop's kid. All soft green fabric and faded black sweats.

Damian looked like a deer in the headlights, entranced.

He did not deserve him.

He couldn't do this.

Word Count: 1,037 Completed

Cat's Cradle by DisillusionedDanny :

After Danny's sister throws him into the portal for his own safety, the halfa feels lost, alone, and without a haunt. That is, until Clockwork gives him a new purpose. Somehow this new purpose thrusts Danny into his new life as the protégé of one Catwoman and the new pain in the ass for a certain sword wielding Robin. Damian Wayne didn't know what to think about the new Catboy that was following behind Catwoman. On one hand, he was a nuisance that caused him nothing but grief. On the other, he was charming and made Damian smile like no other. Word Count: 57,234 Completed

You'll Find a Rainbow by DisillusionedDanny :

Hurt and on the run after telling his parents the truth, Danny and Jazz go to the only person they can trust to keep them safe from the Fenton's.

Danny's birth mother.

Harley Quinn

Word Count: 62,674 Completed

Ghost In Gotham by ArcticVulpix :

When the Anti-Ecto Acts result in Danny being driven out of his home, he's got to build a new life in the Ghost Zone. But just his luck, he gets an unexpected war thrown at him and just as that settles, a summoning brings him to Gotham and into the lives of the Bat Clan. What to do until he can get back to the Ghost Zone? And will he ever get to go home to Amity Park again? Word Count: 28,605 Completed

On-going

Ancient Deals by Bewitched_Forest :

A long time ago, Ra's Al Ghul made a deal with the dead. In exchange for the secret to the Lazarus Pits, he was to offer up his heir to the Ghost King for an arranged marriage. But, when rebellion leads to Pariah Dark to be captured, the deal goes on unfulfilled. Now, with a new Prince crowned, to become the Ghost King when he is of age, Danny Phantom is left having to accept Ra's half of the bargain. In the form of his grandson, Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.

Day 1 of DPxDC Ship Week 2023 Prompt: Arranged Marriage Au

Word Count: 5,981 On-going

Astrobleme by SpicyTossSalad :

“Antares, can I ask you something?” Danny’s gaze is fixed on the sky, as it has been for two hours now, but a subtle tension in his face betrays his nerves. “Of course.” Danny steels himself with a deep breath. “I want you to bite me.” "What?" Word Count: 2,177 Complete

Baby Fever by Die_Erlkonigin6083 :

Damian wants pups. He wants a mate. He just wants a family. It’s not something he thinks he can have at the moment. A mission gone sideways might just prove him wrong.

Day 1 Nesting Accidental Child Acquisition

Word Count: 1,700 Complete

Of All the Things My Hands Have Held by DisillusionedDanny :

Upon learning that her son is in a relationship, Talia decides to create a clone to gift to her son as a gift to celebrate finally settling down. Now Damian and Danny are stuck trying to figure out how to raise a baby when neither of them had the best examples growing up. Word Count: 17,066 On-going

Fate is a Bitch and Her Timing Sucks! by OnlyHereForTheSnacks :

In theory, everyone on earth is supposed to have a soulmate. Someone who is perfect for them in every way. A storybook romance, or a best friend you can always confide in. Fate is supposed to pull them together at the right moment. Real life is never as easy as the stories though, and Fate has always had a way of fucking with vigilantes.

Danny always wanted a soulmate. At least he did before he died, now his life (afterlife?) is just starting to get manageable. He’s settled into his new role, doing what he can for both the ghost and human world and is looking forward to a quiet (if excruciatingly boring) summer vacation when his life is literally turned upside down and he is forced to confront parts of his past that he’d rather remained buried.

Damian has been resigned to the idea that he will have to protect his soulmate since he was a child. A soulmate is a weakness that others might choose to exploit. Nothing could have prepared him for the reality that is his perfect match. Perhaps he should have listened when his mother said his soulmate would have to be anything besides ordinary to compliment him.

Word Count: 39,377 On-going

Artificial Wingman by TheSleepyKitsue :

Prompt fill for im-totally-not-an-alien-2 on Tumblr After finding a spell book in his aunt's attic, half ghost Danny Fenton decides to become a Disney Princess for a day in another dimension by using a love potion on the local wildlife. Fate has different plans, however, in the form of a Gotham Vigilante landing directly in said love potion. Now, with a love-struck Damian Wayne and no immediate way home, Danny must try to make a cure while dodging the cities best detectives. Meanwhile, a very concerned Batfam are trying to track down their missing member. Word Count: 106,859 On-going

Press Heart to Subscribe by Die_Erlkonigin6083 :

Brown shows Damian a viral video of a twitch streamer, named UndeadNebula, passionately defending the current Robin from his critics. Intrigued, he begins watching the streamer.

UndeadNebula is smart, kind, funny, and Damian could listen to him talk for eternity.

The streamer might have wormed his way into Damian’s heart.

Word Count: 101,086 On-going

Rated M

My Pet Robin by Die_Erlkonigin6083 :

With the world starting to fall into the hands of evil, Damian uses an ancient spell he stole from Constantine to call forth the Ghost King. However, it comes with a very steep price… one the King does not want him to pay. Yet Damian finds himself wanting to pay it. Word Count: 44,964 On-going

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #dc universe #ao3 fanfic #crossover fanfiction #damian wayne #robin

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redsrooftopprincess · 2 months ago

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Assassin, Part 3

Fem Reader x Raphael

Warning: graphic description of a bipolar crash (or, at least how I experience them) over this chapter and the next. Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

After the storm of emotion had passed, Splinter sat with Raphael until the moon had crossed over the house, discussing the matter more calmly with his son. Eventually, Raphael felt stable enough to at least make it to bed.

The front steps groaned under his weight, and the paint flaked off the banister like snow in July, as he made his way up the front porch. Today had been a lot.

It had started out beautifully. The early morning mist held fast to the light of dawn as the five of you spent the morning setting everything up. Light swirled around your waist as you worked on place settings, and he was pulled to you.

He walked up behind you, just watching for a moment, affection blooming in his chest. You had ruined his life in the best possible way. Meeting you had brought up so many things he thought he'd let go of a long time ago. It made him hurt in ways he can't even begin to describe. And he is so very grateful.

You'd held each other, swimming in the golden light, and for just one moment he knew how it felt to hold sunlight in his arms.

Then, the ceremony.

Raphael reaches for the screen door handle and depresses the button, pulling it open. The hinges screech their usual protestations, and he cringes as the sound digs the exhaustion headache further into his skull.

That low had hit hard and he should have been expecting it. It'd been a minute since he got triggered like that, but you've always had a way of getting inside his head... You were so damn beautiful...

"Hey," you'd said, peeking around the door to the "boys room" where Casey and the guys were drinking waiting. "You guys almost ready?" When you stepped around and into the room, Raphael forgot how to breathe.

Perfectly coifed and painted in pin curls and neutral make up, and adorned with matching teardrop moissanites in your ears and around your neck (a pre-wedding gift from your brother), you looked like you'd stepped off the silver screen in 1940.

The silk of your floor length forest green dress flowed around you like ink in water, and the thin straps holding it up might as well have been non-existent. His eyes followed the curve of your neck down to your shoulder. His mouth watered and his mind wandered. He wondered what it would taste like. He looked away. Fuck's sake. Couldn't he just look at his beautiful friend in peace?

Minutes later, you'd slipped your arm through his as the two of you waited for your cue to walk down the aisle. A light dusting of pink bloomed in your cheeks when his arm had brushed against your silk covered breast, and your warmth radiated through contact. That warmth poured into his veins, and he felt something in his chest begin to spin.

It had been such a good week. Too good. And some part of him knew that. He'd drawn a deep breath, and exhaled, maintaining a mask of calm. He could feel the crash coming, and prayed he could at least make it to the other side of the wedding before it hit.

He'd spent the week in bliss, planning, packing, driving, and setting up his best friend's wedding with the most beautiful, sweet, smart, and sassy woman in the world. Now, he was going to pay for it.

Don't think about it. Don't think about where you are, or what this is, or that she's literally about to walk down an aisle with you. *Don't* think about it.

The awaited cue came and the two of you stepped out into the early evening light. He'd tried so hard not to look at you as you crossed the threshold, but it had been a lost cause from the beginning.

A Summer Goddess walked beside him. Skin full of golden sunlight, you'd caught his eye out of the corner of yours and your playful smile could have lit up the world. When three steps in the skirt of your dress fully bloomed to reveal a scandalous amout of leg from the slit three-quarters of the way up your thigh, he nearly tripped.

Every look, every brush of silk against his skin sent ripples through him, pushing the spinning in his chest faster. It was the longest twenty-five feet of his life.

When you reached the archway, you turned to him and your hand slid, feather light, down his arm into his. He gazed down at you and smiled.

He wanted to stop you. To pull back on your hand and pull you into him. To take his own and place it softly against your cheek, the other around your waist. He wanted to look into your eyes with every word he's choked down since the moment he met you. He wanted to slide his hand into your hair, tilt your head up, and capture your mouth with his.

This was the closest he would ever get.

With one last gentle squeeze, your hand slipped from his, and his fingers tingled from the loss of contact. You'd each walked to your respective places, and when the music changed over and Bride walked down the aisle, all eyes were on April.

Except his.

.....

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

#bayverse raphael #tmnt raphael #bayverse raphael x reader #raphael x reader #raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #SoundCloud

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kaitsawamura · 5 months ago

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🪞 🔮 🍅 🧺 🍯 🌱 The Farmer & The Wizard

PART 1: IN WHICH YOU UNEXPECTEDLY GET THE DEED TO A FARM

❦ STATS ❦ | all other information on this fic including additional warnings can be found on the masterlist

chapter rating: e for everyone, complete fic has an 18+ MDNI rating

chapter warnings: mention of the death of an estranged grandparent (no details)

chapter tags: semi-canon divergent, red thread of fate

chapter word count: 3.2K

This chapter and the rest of this fic are part of this blog's contribution to Fics for Gaza.

❦ LINKS ❦

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fic masterlist

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My Dear Little Bug,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Fox Hollow Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, Little Bug. Good luck.

Love, Grandpa

Honor the family name? What a load of bullshit. There was no family left to honor. You were an only child and your parents had stopped talking to your grandpa on your dad’s side so long ago, you didn’t have any memories of him. Except for a blurry one, so void of detail it was as if it was a dream or a dream of a dream. In that memory, you could recall the thrill of seeing autumn leaves blustering in a flurry across a gravel drive, the creak of an old door, the smell of dirt, coffee, and aftershave. A pair of strong warm arms. That’s about it.

Now, your parents were divorced and the three of you were estranged. You were a singular island floating in a lonely, tumultuous sea. Things had been stressful at work and in your personal life. That must be why you even considered checking your Grandpa’s place out. The southern coast… that was practically out in the boonies. Scratch that, it was in the middle of nowhere. Zuzu City was the closest big town and even that would be small by your adult standards. You didn’t know if you had the gumption to do what it would take to fix the place up.

Still, although you had no idea why your grandfather had chosen you to take over the place most important to him, it would be a welcome distraction. The words in his letter… you were, in fact, in dire need of a change. How this all came to be at the time you needed it most was beyond your understanding. It was better to leave some things to the unknown, even if you did feel a strange pull to this place you’d been to once as a very young child.

You read the letter a final time before glancing at the attached legal papers. Suddenly it seemed as if the space you’d so meticulously curated to be yours was a touch too sterile. The apartment on the expensive side of town. The new, reliable car. The dinner parties, the expensive alcohol. The shiny executive position to go with it. You’d worked hard for it but also had privilege that so many didn’t. You were grateful for it. Even so, you couldn’t ignore that something was missing.

Perhaps long days and even longer nights, clean air, and more sky than infrastructure were the puzzle pieces you hadn’t found yet.

❦ 2 WEEKS LATER ❦

Your apartment was turnkey on the market and already had three solid offers.

In the end, you decided on saving the expense of a rental car, but doing so meant the closest you could get to Stardew Valley was Zuzu City and from there, you had to take a bus. The whole thing felt spectacularly contrived, much to your chagrin. It was spring and while the city was filled with smog, the moment you hit the long highway out of Zuzu towards your new home it was as if the heavens parted to shine a light on your way. Not a single cloud remained in the sky. Well, maybe one little puff that looked way too much like a pastry waaaay out in the distance.

It was a two hour drive on a four lane highway that somehow turned into a two lane without you noticing. For a long while there was nothing but the music playing in your headphones and stretches of field so green and wide open, you could easily get lost in daydreaming. Rolling hills, green grass, and sometimes a fence. Clair de Lune played in your ears and with the surprisingly comfortable position you’d found leaning your head on the window, it didn’t take much for you to drift off.

The bus jolting to a stop is what wakes you on a sharp, snorting breath as your eyes snap open. For a moment, you’re disoriented, unaware of where you are or if you are, in fact, a real person. A headache has begun throbbing at the base of your neck and your mouth is dry. Late afternoon sun streams in the bus window and the driver, a little graying man in a smart blue uniform is standing over you.

“There you are, I was beginning to think I couldn’t wake you. We’ve reached the end of the line. I’ll give you a moment while I open the cargo hold. I have a schedule I have to keep to though!” He says it brightly, smiling as big as can be, the expression crinkling his eyes shut above his rosy cheeks. You nod as he turns and spryly makes his way down the middle of the bus and out the doors.

You do take a moment, but only a small one, to stare out the window. It’s a small bus station, barely even a station at all really. There’s a small awning under a tree that houses an automatic ticket printer. It seems both too modern and too ancient, a monolith, to be here in Stardew Valley. There’s a wooden bench and a cobbled pathway that looks as if at one time there was a lot of foot traffic that has since dwindled. In the distance a wooden fence, fallen into disrepair.

Still, you take a breath and even within the confines of the vehicle, you can taste the crisp freshness in the air. On top of that, there’s green everywhere. In the trees, in the grass, in the wildflowers. In the button-up shirt on the other little old man standing expectantly outside the bus looking in. He’s wearing a brown newsboy cap and overalls, with a golden yellow tie. That must be the mayor. Mayor… Lee? Lemony? Lewis? That’s it, Mayor Lewis.

The mayor had been good friends with your grandfather. He had said as much over the phone when he called to confirm you had gotten the letter and legal papers in the mail. Mail didn’t get lost in Stardew Valley, it was too small but he didn’t known how things worked in the big modern city. He had told you he would meet you to take you to your grandfather’s, well, your farm when you got into town. That was two weeks ago and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you had forgotten that little detail. It was just as well because your fancy cellphone with “unparalleled” service had one little tiny bar; no pulling up Maps here.

Uncertainty roiled in your gut, truly the first bit of apprehension you’d felt since you’d started this process. Maybe this was literally the most foolish thing you’d done in your life, more foolish than breaking into the public pool after hours with your friends your senior year of high school and getting caught by the cops. That had been your last hurrah the summer before you all went to college. Perhaps this was a last hurrah as well. Except, there was no scholarship money waiting in the mail for you this time around. This would be all on you and while you were comfortable with what you had access to for the ball to get rolling, it was different spending your own money than money given to you. Money given to you didn’t count, it wasn’t real.

There was no time like the present. You grabbed your carry on, the one you’d had since high school with the fraying handles and the faded One Direction key chain, and stepped out into the later afternoon. Lewis, who was rocking on his heels with his arms clasped behind him, loosed a beaming smile in your direction. You smiled back, determined to make the most of this first impression.

“Mayor Lewis?” You made it a question even though you were certain it was unnecessary. He nodded enthusiastically and you shook hands. The driver had unloaded your singular suitcase from the hold and gave a mock salute to the two of you as he stepped back in the bus. The doors closed with a wheeze and a loud click before the idling engine was idle no longer and the wheels began rolling the bus back out of town. The mayor broke the amicable silence first.

“You must be exhausted so I’ll walk you straight to the farm and leave you to get settled in! Can I help ya with any of your bags?” You were inclined to let him assist so you handed him your carry on and grabbed your rolling suitcase; a fine film of pollen already collected over its surface. Thank god you’d brought antihistamines. You had an annoying feeling that your allergies would be acting up.

“Uh, Mayor—” he held up a hand.

“Please, call me Lewis. Your grandpa and I were much too close for you to be calling me by a title instead of my Yoba-given name.” Yoba. You hadn’t heard or thought of that name in a very long time. So the mayor was at least somewhat religious, you decided to assume.

“Oh, yes, all right. Lewis it is then. Can I clarify, did you say walk?” Another huge smile broke out across his face, bringing crows feet and laugh lines prominently to the surface. It was humanizing in such a way that you already felt a pang of endearing familiarity towards him. He did remind you vaguely of your grandpa, or what you could remember of him.

“Yes! It’s really not far, just down this dirt road here. I took the liberty of assuming that you would want to stretch your legs a little after that long drive. Your grandpa rode his horse until the very end but I’m sure we could fix ya up with somebody’s old truck if you’d rather use that for transportation from now on.” Your eyebrows shot up your forehead. The mayor must have seen the look of confusion because he rambled on, “Magpie’s a sturdy little gelding, but if he’s too much for you to keep, I’m sure I could help you find him a good home.”

There was so much to consider. You had told Lewis that you planned on fixing the place up but you still hadn’t answered the question that lingered heavily on your mind about what came after that. Did you really plan on uprooting your whole life permanently? Crickets chirped in the hedges lining the pathway. The sun sparkled through the trees as it set in the west. The air smelled heavily of daffodils and lilac. Even without seeing the farm, you already felt a strange pull behind your ribcage, like a string was tied around your heart and was tugging. In what direction, you couldn’t quite tell.

It really didn’t take any time to reach the farm at all. You’d been so wrapped up in further conversation with Lewis that you hadn’t noticed it was a twenty minute walk and sure enough your stiff hips and back welcomed the light exercise. He reminded you that there were a couple chickens that had already been locked up in their coop for the day but as sunny weather was predicted, you’d want to let them out in their run the following morning. The main living structure, a small cabin with a single room and kitchenette, still had utilities running. There was a little toilet room inside as well and a small bathhouse out back for any of your bathing needs. If the pipes groaned when you turned the water on, well, it really wasn’t a problem but if any issues arose from it, he could recommend a handy man to you.

You passed the mailbox and took a mental note that it was one of the first things you’d be fixing; it was leaning so precariously on a rotten wooden post you were surprised it was still standing. When the little cabin came into view as the two of you opened and shut the entrance gate behind you, you felt a tightness begin to unravel in your body. There was an apricot tree hanging over the tiny covered patio. Frogs chirped in the distance from the creek that ran around the far edges of the property. The chicken coop sat close to a bend of that creek next to another west facing entrance. You could also see the overgrown mini forest of trees you had as well as an overabundance of grass and weeds and stone that would need to be cleared.

“Well, here it is, Fox Hollow Farm! I don’t want to overstay my welcome so you let me know if there’s anything you need but otherwise, I’ll let you get settled in for the night.” You assured him as long as there was hot water in that bathhouse and a made bed to collapse into, you think you’d make it through the night. “Good. Robin and I’ll check back in on ya tomorrow morning!” You couldn’t remember exactly who he’d said Robin was but if they were as welcoming as Lewis, it didn’t really matter.

After Lewis had unlocked the cabin and handed you the key, it was very apparent that you weren’t even in the mood for a shower. You waved at him as he left, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. The place smelled dusty already, even though it had only been vacant for three weeks. The wooden floor groaned beneath your feet, but only slightly, as you dropped your duffle bag to the ground and rolled your suitcase just inside the door. You walked to the sink, wiping a hand over the dirty window to look out back. There was a wooden structure with floor to ceiling glass windows making up its four walls. That must be the bathhouse. There was an old coffee maker on the bit of counter space and a singular wooden mug. It was expertly carved and worn down from years of use. You wondered absently if someone local had crafted it.

There was a little basket on the table that was pushed up along the southern wall of the house. You sighed in relief when you realized there was a bag of fresh ground coffee, a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth, a few clean carrots, a block of hard cheese wrapped in beeswax, a stick of butter in the same fabric, an aged roll of salami, six chicken eggs, and a glass mason jar labeled “Fig Jam” in looping cursive. When you opened the fridge there was an even bigger jar full of milk. You had a sandwich on the drive but you couldn’t resist digging straight into the loaf of bread, cracking it open with your fingers and tearing a hunk off to stuff in your mouth.

The outer layer was perfectly crusty while the inside was fluffy and practically melted in your mouth. You couldn’t wait to eat some of it with the butter and jam and cheese and eggs for breakfast.

After a bit more exploring from which you discovered adequate cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink and a perfectly made bed with an old soft patchwork quilt, you slipped off your shoes and unpacked pajamas from your suitcase. Sliding into bed here somehow felt a thousand times better than it had in your apartment for months. You fluffed the pillows behind you and pulled out your laptop, choosing not to solve the bed conundrum the first night here. Unsurprisingly there was no internet and your phone was definitely not going to be a good hotspot whatsoever. It was apparent you weren’t going to get any work done.

It was so peculiar; you knew you had been here once but… you really had no memory of the place. You didn’t didn’t think you should feel a kinship to it like you were. There was a small wooden nightstand next to the bed and on it there was an old dog eared copy of The Wizard of Oz. Your own books wouldn’t be here until tomorrow or the day after so you decided to crack it open.

For Jack: We always did love this book, even when we were kids. I saw it the other day on a shelf in a little book store on my trip a few towns over. Hope you like it.

The note scribbled in the inside cover was signed “Lew”. As in Lewis? Your grandpa and Lewis really were old friends then. He must be taking this harder than you would have guessed. You would make sure to invite him over for coffee and offer your condolences. Yes, Jack was your grandfather but you didn’t really know him. The light on the nightstand didn’t provide much light but you flipped to the first page of the book and read:

"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife."

No sooner had you read two pages than your eyes fluttered shut. You tried to keep them open but to no avail so you flipped the light back out and snuggled into the sheets, completely forgetting to turn the white noise on your phone. It had been a necessary portion of your sleep routine for years and years and years.

But tonight, you fell asleep without it, the song of the night filtering in the window you’d left open next to the bed.

Gojo Satoru woke from a deep slumber, sat upright, and squinted his eyes to look about his room. There was nothing out of place. His tower window was open; it always had to be when he slept, except for some days in autumn and for most of the winter season.

He strained to listen, thinking a nocturnal animal must have disturbed his sleep. Again, nothing amiss. He could hear the crickets and the frogs, and in the very far distance, the notes of a mockingbird’s song trilled to him over the cool spring air.

He laid back down, the moonlight shining in the window spilling over his bare chest and illuminating his white hair. If he just breathed slow enough to also slow the sudden rapid beating of his heart, he could go back to sleep. Meditation was something he did often so it didn’t take much. But he couldn’t stop the tugging sensation somewhere behind his ribcage. Strange.

Something had changed in Stardew Valley and he was going to find out what.

This work and its digital elements (credit for pixel art to ConcernedApe) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2020-PRESENT. I do not own any rights to Stardew Valley and any subsequent settings/characters, but this work is heavily inspired by that amazing game. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley au #fics for gaza #fic: the farmer and the wizard #kait writes

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creativeashproductions · 2 years ago

Text

A Finch’s Journey // Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Summary: A gift from the kindest and warmest woman in a dark period of your life begins a decades-long journey to finding peace and love.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader (nicknamed Finch)

Warnings: Inaccurate naval knowledge, swearing, hospitals, treatments, sickness (cancer), angst, character death and FLUFF

Words: 3.2k

A/N: First finished fic in like a year. Thanks Julie.

Masterlist

Your big eyes peered up momentarily at the woman resting in the chair beside you, one hand resting on the armrest and the other dutifully colouring a picture. Your hand meticulously fills in the lines of the dress with indigo colouring. The other hand, in a similar position as the woman who’d taken you under her wing.

“Ma’am?” You shyly spoke, avoiding the curious, gentle blue of the woman who reminded you of days on the beach in the warm sun.

“Sweet pea, you know you don’t have to call me that.” The blonde woman’s smile was gentle and reassuring.

“Are…are you scared?” You whispered in the already quiet room. You froze as her soft hand lightly took the indigo crayon your small hand had clenched hard enough that it bent.

“Not for me.” She replied, carefully twisting to face you but keeping her arm immobile, “I’ve lived a good life. I loved and was loved deeply. I travelled to places I couldn’t have imagined as a kid. I fell in love and was blessed to raise a son from that love. I’m scared for how my son will be after.”

“’Cause your husband is waiting for you in the clouds, and your son will be alone?” You innocently asked, kicking your feet in the chair.

She smiled, “because I asked a friend to do something that will hurt him. I’m scared he’ll let the grief and bitterness overtake his life. He’s always been a happy child. You remind me of him.”

You beamed, revealing the tooth you’d lost a few days ago, “Maybe he needs a hug. Hugs always fix things.”

You nervously shifted on your beat-up shoes, looking up at the small cottage on a quiet street. The cottage holding the reason you had travelled to the West Coast from the opposite side. You recognized it from the polaroids the former owner had used to distract you from treatments.

“Can I help you?” A lady asked from the house next door. Her spirally dark hair was streaked with silver.

“Does Bradley Bradshaw live here?” You inquired, turning to face the curious neighbour halted in sweeping her porch.

“He does. He’s away for work. I can take your number and name for him if you’d like.” The lady answered leaning on the broom to focus solely on you. Her brown eyes are unrelenting in the stare.

“That’s okay. I’ll drop by in a few days.” You cast one more look at the house before turning on your heel.

What’s another couple of days after decades of being two ships passing each other. Your flexible job allowed for extended days since you were a travelling nurse filling in at clinics needing help.

“Well, I’ll let him know to expect someone. What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You responded, turning to walk down the street toward the little bungalow you had rented for a few weeks.

Your eyes scanned the gorgeous, well-kept houses on the trek back to the main street. It was stunning for a portion of a coastal city, even with the soundtrack of jets flying above the area. But, despite the reason behind stepping foot in the town, you had taken a position at a nearby clinic as a locum nurse.

For the next two or so weeks, you’d been spending your time waiting for Bradley’s return from work. Then you'd move on when you met the man and finished the contract. Maybe plan for the following position to be overseas. You’d love to see Ireland or go somewhere in Spain.

You spent the first two days in town frolicking in the water, building sandcastles with a cute little girl on the beach, and touring. On the third and fourth day, you decided to ask one of the locals for destinations and found yourself driving up the coast. Finally, on the fifth day, you dug out your scrubs and sneakers and made your way to the clinic.

“Morning, Tracy.” You smiled, putting a teal file folder by her arm at the front desk. The redhead beamed from her place in front of the computer.

“Morning, Finch,” Tracy responded, pushing a cup of coffee from the good cafe down the street. Tracy always scored discounts with the cute barista with a crush on her.

“How was the ER last night?” You questioned, flipping through one of the files of patients waiting to be seen.

The urgent care clinic was a branch of the Naval Base Hospital as a resort for the family of the naval personnel. Typically you saw more sniffles and minor sicknesses in the children compared to the more concerning ones. Well, there was when a retired officer walked in with her finger hanging off by a thread with the question of, ‘hi, do you guys do stitches?’.

All staff had to pull a shift over at the main hospital while under contract. Yours scheduled for Friday.

“Dead. Overheard a lot of the people stationed were out on missions.” Tracy kept her voice down while answering since she shouldn’t know, but a loose-lipped Lieutenant had been trying to woo her.

“Which means my Friday may be bad.” You hummed, glancing down at the old watch on your wrist. You grabbed one of the files and stepped out from behind the desk.

“Never know.” Tracy responded, turning her back to answer the phone, “Miramar Base Urgent Care.”

You quickly read the name, “Olive Bassett? If you could follow me.”

A young man grasped a small child's hand in a rush to follow you to the hallway. The little girl, five years old as her file read, had gorgeous honey-gold eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes. Golden-hued skin speckled with freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“Jackson Bassett. I’m Olive’s father.”

Your eyes lifted from the file to meet the same honey-gold coloured eyes, “Mr. Bassett, I’m Nurse Y/N. I’m gonna grab a little information for the doctor.”

“Of course.” Jackson nodded, crouching to pull Olive into his arms before depositing her onto the exam table, “She said her throat was sore two days ago. This morning she spiked a fever, and I brought it down with medicine. She’s having trouble swallowing and can only take a few sips of water.”

Words scrawled over the file as he listed the symptoms and Olive nodded or shook her head at times. Jackson’s wife had been recalled to TOPGUN for a mission nine months back. After receiving word of the transfer, the Bassetts moved to the base a couple months ago.

“Her fever is higher than I’d like. The doctor will go over my notes and then do a full exam.” Your eyes met the tear-filled ones of little Olive, “Wanna know a secret, Miss Bassett?”

Olive’s head hesitantly nodded.

“Dr. O’Collins has a secret stash of lollies for anyone that knows the secret….” You trailed off, watching a spark flare in the little girl’s eyes again, “Tell him you saw the fairies making fairy dust.”

Olive lit up in excitement.

“She should be fine. Pick up some popsicles for the sore throat, but the Doc will answer any more questions.” You told Jackson, sliding on the stool to push away to the desk in the corner. Your hand found the stickers you had hidden in every room in the building.

You were quick to roll back to Oliver to hand a stick of her choice before waving to the father and daughter.

At one point in your life, you had done your absolute best to avoid all medical facilities or anything that reminded you of when you were sick. You’d spent a lot of your childhood in sterile rooms and understood that your mother’s job in the Navy helped pay for the treatments and medicines.

You’d relapsed around the same time the lady who kept you company had worsened. You and she never shared the type of cancer you had been diagnosed with. She’d been the adult during a time when your mother had been deployed with the Navy. You owed a lot to her for doing her best to comfort and distract you, all the while suffering herself.

At ten years old, you found yourself in the same room receiving treatment after relapsing a year after entering remission. Not much had changed in the decor or the fact that the woman who had coloured pictures with you sat there too.

What had changed was in the time you’d been diagnosed, battled, found victory, and got sick again you weren’t the same child. You weren’t as innocent. You weren’t as happy. You understood more than what a child should.

“Finch, how’s school going?” She spoke, bringing your attention from the ceiling. You barely rolled your head to face her.

Her cheeks were gaunt, her skin pale, and a scarf kept her head warm in the cold temperature of the room. She knew, hell, you knew that her prognosis was poor. And you both avoided speaking about it. Yet, she hadn’t lost the warmth or happiness in the time you’d known her.

“Doctors won’t let me go to school. I get my assignments mailed on a specialized outline.” Your lips turned down, “I dunno why I have to do math when I’m gonna die.”

Your friend’s eyes saddened, “No, you won’t. You’re so strong Little Goldfinch.”

Goldfinch. A nickname she coined for you when she saw how social you were during your first treatment with the nurses. She could see you becoming a teacher with how well you interacted and treated people kindly.

“Then why are you gonna die?” You demanded, shifting to stare her down, “You’re the strongest person I know!”

Her eyes crinkled in the corners, “Sometimes strengths are different. But, Finch, I’ve made peace with what will happen.”

Her eyes shifted to where the chemo was infusing into your arm through the IV and then to her bare one. Your heart broke because you knew that her treatment no longer worked, and she was spending her time left to be with you.

“But-“

Her hand reached out, “I knew immediately you were gonna be so important to me. I need you to hold on to this for me.”

Her hands reached behind her to the clasp on the necklace that never left her neck. Her husband had given it to her when their son was born. Their son was given a similar pendant with a sun instead while her husband found a ring with stars he slung on the chain of his dog tags.

“You never-“

“I’m sure one day you’ll know what to do with it.”

Her hands carefully avoided wires in her mission to clasp the necklace around your neck instead. Your smaller hand reaching up to caress the moonstone with the gold diamond-encrusted crescent moon. It was beautiful.

Carole Bradshaw died a month later. A year later, you’d been declared in remission and sitting in a classroom. The necklace still proudly resting on your chest.

Twenty years later, you had dreamt of the ocean, brown eyes and the same necklace Carole had gifted you. You immediately cut your trip to Australia off and bought the first ticket to Virginia. You knew that this was what Carole meant when she gave the necklace to you.

So you’d begun a months-long search to track down Carole’s son Bradley. It had taken visiting the hospital where you and Carole got treatment. And then pleading with your mother to call on an old friend from the Academy. With a destination in hand, you had found a locum nurse position in San Diego.

Now you were standing on the porch of the home of who you really hoped was Carole’s son. But, unlike a week ago, the driveway wasn’t empty. Instead, a light blue Bronco was parked beside the freshly mowed grass.

Your fist raised to knock once, twice and a third time on the front door. Finally, the sound of footsteps sounded inside. The door opened, and your breath was taken away.

“Can I help you?” The person asked, peering at you with tired eyes.

“Are you Bradley Bradshaw?” You asked pushing your hands in the back pockets of your cotton shorts. A thin cardigan over a t-shirt to combat the cool breeze.

“I am,” Bradley confirmed, leaning on the doorjamb of his home. His brown eyes scanned you from the brown sandals to your e/c eyes. He wondered if you would be interested in grabbing a drink or walking on the beach.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You offered, reaching out to shake his hand in greeting, “I have something that belongs to you. Or well to your mother.”

Rooster stood straight up upon hearing that. His light-hearted thoughts and attraction faded when you mentioned his mother. A stranger.

“H-how would you know my mother? She died when I was nineteen.” Rooster breathed, dropping his crossed arms.

“I know.” You softly breathed, stepping through the open door when he stepped to the side.

The foyer opened in the living room with soft-coloured walls and a frame holding a folded flag on the mantle. White accents and pictures of family littered the walls. You could see the pencil lines of a child being measured on the kitchen door frame.

“How?” Rooster demanded, furrowing his brows.

“Because she was my friend.” You turned to face the confused aviator, “On my eighth birthday my life changed forever. I had been sick for a while. Lethargic, I would become breathless and other stuff. The doctor called during my birthday party. Test results came back, and by the next day, I was sitting in a paediatric oncologist's office.”

Rooster’s breath called in his throat, “Wait are you, Finch?”

Your eyebrows raised, “Carole coined that. I spent my time in the hospital fluttering around to rooms to make friends. It started as Goldfinch and shortened.”

“She spoke about you. Mom was lonely for a lot of my childhood. Then, when she got sick, she lost her spark.” Rooster recalled the scary time learning his mom was really sick, “She got it back when she met a friend. She called you her little Goldfinch.”

“She did everything she could to keep me company. I didn’t have any family other than my parents, who were both on active duty. Deployed a lot. So Carole stepped in as a trusted adult when they weren’t there.” Your smile was wistful, remembering the warm smile and laugh that embodied glee, “Even when she stopped treatment, she would sit with me during mine. She talked about her pride and joy and the adventures she had.”

“She could be anyone’s friend.” Rooster grinned, leaning back on the back of the couch. His ankles crossed, looking at you.

“She could. In the end, she gave me this.” Your deft fingers tugged the moonstone and diamond pendant from under your shirt.

Rooster stood straight up, staring at the necklace lying on your fingertips. For as long as he could remember, Carole Bradshaw never took two pieces of jewellery off. Her wedding ring and the necklace you were wearing.

He didn’t notice he had stepped closer until his calloused fingers gently touched the moonstone.

“I-I thought this was lost.” He gasped carefully, eyeing the diamonds in the crescent moon. It was as perfect as the last time he saw it was when his mom was alive, “She would brush it off.”

Your lips quirked, “She was pretty mysterious about why she gave it to me. Said ‘I’m sure one day you’ll know what to do with it’ and was tight-lipped about why.”

Rooster’s brown eyes crinkled with mirth, “She was a sucker for movies and books like that.”

Your eyes moved from the pendant to meet the man’s brown pair. It was silent for a moment.

“She loved you. So very much, Bradley. She lit up when she talked about you. She was only scared about how you’d be after she passed. She was worried the grief and bitterness would swallow you.”

He was confused, “What?”

“Carole didn’t tell me much since I was a child, but she mentioned asking a friend to do something that would hurt you. She regretted it, but it was too late to do anything. She only hoped you could forgive her.”

His eyebrows raised as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. It hadn’t been Maverick’s idea to pull his papers. His mom had.

“Thank you.” Why Rooster was thanking you, he didn’t know. Maybe for the peace, he felt.

“This belongs with you.” You whispered, raising your hands to unclasp the necklace to drop it into his hand, “I think she always meant for me to give it to you.”

In the time since you’d left California, you’d changed your hair, Rooster discovered the moment he’d seen you. It looked good. His hand held his bag tightly as he walked closer to your form.

“Finch!” Rooster called, bringing your attention to the person in front of you.

His brown eyes drank in the lavender-coloured scrub pants paired with the scrub top of cartoon birds. Next, his eyes found the moonstone necklace that had brought you together resting on your chest as it had since he’d returned it eight months ago. Then, his brown eyes finally flicked down to the newest addition he’d given you.

“Roo!” You beamed, running full speed into his arms.

Rooster shifted to press a lingering kiss to your neck before leaning back to drink you in. His one hand caresses your soft cheek.

“I thought you were flying in on Monday?” You asked, leaning back to stare at him with glittering eyes. The man in question beamed back.

“I scored a few extra days off. Mav’s extra wedding gift.”

His eyes shifted to the band he’d slipped onto your finger a few months back. It matched the one on his hand.

“Perfect! Roisin gave me a list of places we should check out. She’s got the connections to places only the locals know about!” Your hand grasped his as he let you tug him down from the clinic to the little apartment you had rented for a short time.

Rooster had gotten papers of a deployment a month before your postponed honeymoon would begin. He’d persuaded you to find a locum position for the month-long deployment, and he’d fly to Ireland to meet you.

“Ireland, and then we’re going to Spain?”

“I have to show you the places I saw. You’ll love it. And then we’ll return to San Diego.” Your words were coy at the end. His eyes moved away from the people moving down the sidewalk to you.

“We’ll? I thought you were heading down to Scotland before coming home?” Rooster asked, pulling you to a stop.

You bit your lip, keeping quiet.

“Finch?” Rooster slowly spoke, reaching to grab your other hand in his clasp.

“I applied for a position at the clinic I was a locum at when I was searching for you. I just need to sign the contracts, and I’ll have a permanent position.”

Rooster flew his head back gleefully in such a way that reminded you so much of the woman who’d held your hand in a sterile room decades ago.

Carole Bradshaw knew you were gonna be important to her. She just didn’t know you’d be more important to Bradley too.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader

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peachhcs · 8 months ago

Note

I feel like will and Sammy were one of those friends that like took naps while cuddling, or maybe at any free time they would be together, sometimes they said flirty comments to each other and still be like “we are best friends, we would never like each other”

no, no we’re just friends | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

1.5k words

takes place fall of will’s first dev program year (samy is a junior) this was genuinely so fun to write. i added some more plot to it, i hope that’s okay, but keep sending in requests for the wonder years i love writing their younger dynamic!

au masterlist

a weekend of no hockey games? not even traveling? those types of weekends were rare for the boys.

they'd been on the move since the start of the season in august meaning two straight months of nonstop hockey every day, every week, every weekend. things were hectic–chaotic even—but they loved it. playing hockey everyday? it was the dream and so was finally getting to sleep in on saturday morning without worrying about waking up at ungodly hours for morning practice.

the boys scattered themselves across the hughes family living room after a long night in ann arbor. what other way would they spend their free weekend besides driving an hour to samy's house where ellen welcomed them with open arms—secretly excited that her house was filled with people again.

things were quiet now that the brothers were gone even though luke came back every weekend to do his laundry.

samy excitedly showed them around the city she grew up in for most of her life with will chirping in every now and then with tidbits from the places he's visited. surprisingly, the boys were really into the museum of art by the university, especially ryan and drew.

"no way someone painted that," ryan mumbled as their gazes stared up at the large 4 foot painting hanging off the wall.

"i could do it better," aram shrugged earning a slap on the arm from jacob.

"no you could not," the brunette muttered, shaking his head.

the two began quietly bickering about who could paint better. will rolled his eyes before flicking over to briefly meet samy's gaze who lingered beside the blonde. she softly giggled at his friends' antics which resulted in a soft smile on the boy's lips.

"i'd really like to see you guys try and paint," samy cut into their bickering as she led the way to the next painting.

"you think we can't paint?" jacob raised his eyebrow at the girl. she only shrugged.

"let's be real, you can't paint to save your life," ryan added with his own laughter.

"uh, i can to. i took art classes my freshman year," jacob defensively crossed his arms.

"ooh, so cool," ryan's mimicry voice made the group laugh.

the banter didn't stop the entire time they were in the art museum. at least not until they made it to the natural history museum where the boys were really excited to look at dinosaurs. samy couldn't help but giggle as she watched the six boys hurry to see the t-rex up close.

"how do you think they got it here?" gabe wondered.

"a plane?" drew raised his eyebrow. the dark-haired boy smacked him on the arm, rolling his eyes. "smartass," gabe mumbled.

"what's your favorite dinosaur?" will wondered over the commotion of the other guys.

the girl's eyes slid to his, sparking some in the light while she thought about her answer. "good question. i really like rhinos. they don't have any in this museum though," she finally decided with a tiny smile.

"didn't quinn buy you a rhino stuffed animal however many years ago?" the blonde asked.

"he did! it was like my 7th birthday or something. i can't believe you remembered that," the youngest hughes chuckled.

"only because i remember we sent you the nerf guns after being upset all summer that your brothers had them and you didn't," will informed making samy laugh again.

"those were the best gift. i think we still have them in our basement somewhere, but i definitely lost all the..what do you call them? pellets?" the two shared another small laugh before the group headed to a different exhibit.

after the museums, luke graciously met up with all of them and took them to dinner close to campus (but secretly ellen sent him money to pay for all eight of them because poor luke was a broke college student). the boys were definitely excited to see luke and they got him into a long conversation about hockey and what college was like.

samy and will were at one at one end of the table where they immersed themselves in their own conversation again letting the others talk luke up because the two already saw him all the time.

"happy there's no saturday practice tomorrow?" the brunette wondered, sipping on her lemonade.

"mhm. i don't think i've really slept in since like..i moved here," will chuckled.

"do you ever sleep in though? i'm pretty sure i always hear you awake at like eight in the morning with luke and jack at the lake house," samy raised her eyebrow which brought a flush to will's face.

"you gotta get up early to hit the green," the boy argued referring to all the times they went golfing.

"oh, right, right. how could i forget?" samy made a face.

a small silence settled between them as their eyes drifted down the table where their friends excitedly talked with luke. something warmed in both of their chests seeing how well they everyone got along. samy really couldn't be more happier that will introduced her to these boys and seeing how much her brother loved them all too. will thought the exact same thing.

the two years ahead were gonna be the best years. will knew it and so did samy.

it was late when the group made it back to the hughes house. ellen and jim already had the air mattresses blown up meaning everyone immediately collapsed on sight after changing into pajamas. samy made herself comfortable beside will who briefly scrolled through his phone. the girl had a small cup of ice cream in her hand, quickly offering some to the blonde.

"mm love rocky road," will hummed as he took the bite.

"i know we have the same taste," the brunette giggled. she fished around for the remote before turning the tv on the lowest setting and flipping to some random movie playing.

the girl stretched out, letting her eyes grow sleepy. her head dipped onto will's shoulder making the boy flush briefly before he hooked his arm around her own shoulders. this wasn't abnormal for the two, especially after the past summer. they'd become a lot more touchy with one another, always poking and prodding—so a head on the shoulder as samy fell asleep wasn't something the two thought twice about.

not until the morning where they were in the same position except samy's head fell more onto will's chest with one of her arms spread out across his torso. the guys woke up before they did and ryan was the first one to notice the sleeping pair curled up on the couch together.

"dude, look," the brunette nudged drew's shoulder who slowly sat himself up while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"are we sure smitty doesn't like her?" drew mumbled with a tiny snicker.

"he's gotta or something. i mean look at them!" ryan exclaimed.

all of the guys were still in denial about will saying he didn't have feelings for samy and never has. they were literally staring at the two asleep together. gabe, aram, and jacob woke up a few minutes later hearing ryan and drew's voices.

"why are you guys talking so damn loud?" aram grumbled.

"look at smitty and hughesy," ryan urged his friends. the other three shifted their gazes towards the sleeping pair and they immediately understood what the fuss was about.

"damn. if i didn't know any better.." jacob trailed off earning laughs across the group.

"should we wake them up?" gabe asked as ryan took some pictures on his phone for later use whenever will wanted to try and deny his feelings.

"i think your voices were loud enough.." samy's eyes fluttered open. the boys immediately quieted down, but the smirks didn't disappear on their faces.

samy slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. will shifted against the couch, his own eyes opening up too.

"good morning love birds," ryan sang.

"oh this again," samy playfully rolled her eyes.

"what do you mean this again? you guys were literally cuddling," aram pointed out and all of the guys nodded in agreement.

"and?" the girl raised her eyebrow, gazing over at will briefly who was now fully awake.

"and? y'all are acting like a couple!" ryan exclaimed again.

samy and will instantly bursted into laughter which left the boys silent and confused.

"no, no we're just friends," the brunette got out through her laughter.

"friends don't cuddle," drew cut in.

"yes they do. i cuddle with my friends all the time. you guys are just afraid to," samy argued, pushing herself off the couch. she looked down at will for confirmation. he saw the guys' looks, knowing exactly what they were thinking.

"come on, we're just friends. it's nothing," the boy agreed with samy.

"exactly, thank you. can we stop making a big deal out of it and get breakfast?" the boys looked between the two for a few more seconds before deciding to drop the subject for now, but still not believing a word either of them said.

#hughes!sister x will smith au #will smith hockey #samy x will #boston college #boston college hockey #samy hughes #umich hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #uofmichigan #will smith fluff #will smith hockey fluff #the wonder years #ryan leonard #gabe perreault #jacob fowler #drew fortescue #aram minnietian

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scaranation · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! Can I request something about Zhongli refusing to find a partner for himself due to him being an ex archon and a literal dragon (though only half of it) found reader who just landed in liyue in a quest to expand the business reader started in their very own nation, but zhongli found out that reader was also a dragon in living among humans and took interest upon them cuz apart from dvalin, he hasn't encounter another dragon for millennia

That's all ♥️

Thank you for this I had so much fun writing! Sorry this took so long I completely forgot what an inbox was 🥲🥲 (i’m not sorry abt the title tho)

༊*·˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘

Pairing: Zhongli x GN!reader

Content: fluff, broke Zhongli

After ages of being amongst the only dragons he knew of, Zhongli finally finds another like him - a person he begins to hope he can pursue more than the trivialities of mortal love with.

“Hm.” Zhongli leaned back in his seat as he stared at the paperwork in front of him. A new business had recently entered the Liyuen market, specialising in gifts. It was an admirable scheme - the enterprise had taken over many small souvenir businesses, rendering it a prominent influence in Inazuma, the region from which it’d been started. Furthermore, the business was also listed as being part of the gift giving and floral arrangement markets, allowing it to merge multiple companies whilst still abiding by competition laws. Zhongli nodded to himself. Truly, the one who’d headed this ludicrous venture would’ve had to have possessed great ambition.

It reminded the man of his days as a young archon - the youthful drive and greed spurred on by his draconic traits.

“Zhongli! Are you ready? We’re going to meet them now.” Hu Tao’s chipper tone jerked Zhongli out of his thoughts.

“Ah, yes.” He gathered the files on his desk, checking the time. They were supposed to have left ten minutes ago for a meeting with the aforementioned business in hopes of forming a partnership - after all, a floral arrangement specialist was undeniably beneficial to a funeral parlour.

“My bad, I appear to have lost track of the time. Hopefully our soon to be partners aren’t too phased.” Zhongli opened the door, before stepping out after Hu Tao. She only laughed, waving her hand nonchalantly as the two proceeded to the arranged location.

“Nice to meet you, Director Hu.” You stood up once your guests finally arrived, grasping the funeral director’s hand to shake it.

“It’s a pleasure. This is our consultant, Zhongli.”

You glanced at the man standing behind the director. A piercing amber gaze, glinting like ancient cor lapis. Despite his shrewd gaze and the way he carried himself - as though he’d been here for millenia - he looked to be a youthful young man, with a pleasantly defined face. You shook away the thought. You hadn’t met another dragon in thousands of years, and of all professions, why would a dragon resort to working as a consultant?

“So, about our potential partnership.” You broke the eye contact you realised you’d been holding with Zhongli, beckoning him and his boss to sit at the table.

“Ah, yes.” Zhongli opened a folder as Hu Tao began to talk, and so the meeting finally started. Between Hu Tao's thinly veiled business ambitions and Zhongli's shrewd remarks, you found yourself preferring the latter. His voice possessed a certain soothing quality, almost making you lose your edge. He talked as if he'd experienced the same meeting countless times before, making suggestions you would've never thought of. With Hu Tao's negotiating and Zhongli's articulate guidance, the exchange flew by. With another firm handshake, you parted ways with Hu Tao and Zhongli, your assistant leaving work early. Both the funeral parlour director and consultant certainly had an interesting character, and the negotiations had gone amicably beyond your expectations.

Similarly, Zhongli also left the meeting in a good mood. He was almost certain you were also a dragon, which piqued his interest greatly. The calculating gaze you'd levelled at him, and the quick-witted contributions you'd made to the meeting. You couldn't possibly be as old as him, but you had clearly experienced much of Teyvat.

Zhongli sighed contentedly. To meet another one like him... Would be an honour indeed.

“What do you mean? These antiques have been professionally verified!” Zhongli sighed as the store owner in front of him spluttered in defence.

“Ah, if you say so.” Zhongli only turned away, unbothered with involving himself in such mundane conflict. He'd decided to take a walk through the harbour and indulge a little in the frivolous joys of mortality, and wanted to preserve his high spirits for longer.

“Wait, young man! What about this necklace? I’ll sell to you for half price, I’m sure your partner would love it.” The store owner made one last attempt at landing a sale.

Zhongli chuckled to himself. He hadn’t taken another lover for ages. Somehow, it simply wasn’t the same to commit himself to a mortal, despite the vessel he’d taken on. Something about the way humans loved was inherently fleeting, unlike the millennia-long romances common amongst dragons. The ex-archon couldn’t bring himself to be interested in a short, fiery burst of superficial passion, and he hadn’t met another dragon - aside from Barbartos’s friend - in ages.

Before Zhongli could retort to the store owner however, a new voice cut through the air.

“Even at half price, that necklace is nowhere near worth how much you’re demanding for it.” You stepped forward, tutting.

“What? This necklace was taken straight from a chest buried in Guili, and polished into this state. The fine embossing proves it. Clearly, you have no eye for quality.” The vendor was turning red. Zhongli turned his gaze to you, amused.

“The embossing work on this is indicative of a technique used long after the Guili area was inhabited in its prime. Furthermore, this material appears to be the smelted remains of lower quality ore - hence the dull gleam. If you wish to swindle customers, at least do it more convincingly.” You ran an unappreciative finger over the necklace, flipping it over in your palm. The store owner snatched it back, seething.

“Well, if you don’t believe in our authenticity, you may as well leave.”

“Of course.” Zhongli, sensing the vendor was becoming exponentially more irate, quickly grabbed your arm and led you away. His grip was firm, yet undemanding. A strange warmth emanated from his touch, prompting you to glance up at him in surprise.

“That was some keen observation. Are you perhaps interested in the history of Liyue?” Zhongli asked, releasing you.

“No, it was merely some… general knowledge from my first hand experiences.”

“You were alive back then?”

“And I’m assuming you were, too.”

“Hm, you would be the first dragon other than myself and Dvalin that I’ve met in quite some time.” Zhongli’s eyes gleamed. You cocked your head, until you found the consultant’s hand enveloping yours in a heat that was almost familiar - like the broad warmth of a sun baked stone.

“Come on, it'd be a shame if someone who'd come all the way from Inazuma didn't have the luxury of seeing Liyue's more authentic stalls."

You nodded, slowly curling your fingers around the man's hand, or at least as much as you could - his hands were quite a lot larger than yours. The contact was nice and unforced, unlike the awkward times you'd had to touch humans. It simply wasn't the same, as with them, it was more like holding a delicate glass. Mortals were so fleeting, their lives so precarious.

After winding through the bustling streets of the harbour, the two of you arrived at another stall selling ores.

“Which one would you like? They seem to be of high quality. I’ll purchase one for you, as a gift.” Zhongli glanced over the assortment of brightly coloured jewels.

“Oh, you really don’t have to.”

“I insist. It’s only proper for me, seeing as you’re a fellow dragon.”

“Alright then, I’ll take the one on the far left.” You gestures towards a lump of noctilucous jade. The lustre suggested it was relatively valuable, but not expensive enough to make you appear impolite.

“That’ll be four hundred mora.” The vendor smiled.

Zhongli slipped a gloved hand into his pockets, fumbling for a while - but not in the way a broke person would. Rather, he did it with a practiced grace, leading you to doubt he had any financial troubles at all. Given their long lifespans, dragons usually amassed much wealth.

“Ah, it appears that I’ve forgotten my wallet. How improper of me.” Zhongli chuckled lightly. You blinked a few times, exchanging a shocked look with the vendor, before reaching for your own wallet.

“I’ll take all the items on display.” You said. The vendor hurried to wrap up all the stones, handing you a relatively heavy bag.

“My apologies, it seems I’m still not accustomed to the mortal way of life. Using mora… What a difficult thing to get used to.” Zhongli mused, although he didn’t appear to be embarrassed at all.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly questioning the man. Dragon or not, most had to be well-acquainted with the currency, especially if they were a citizen of Liyue.

“I believe I forgot to mention, I created mora. Hence, actually using it in practice is quite foreign.”

You spluttered in shock. How could someone admit that they’d founded Teyvat’s primary currency so easily? Zhongli’s orange eyes gleamed in mirth at your surprise.

“Y-you’re… Morax?” You stood stiffly for a moment. You were standing and talking casually to an archon. You briefly wondered if you should bow, and began to kneel - before a firm hand came under your arm to hoist you back up.

��No need, I’ve given up that role. Not many know I was Rex Lapis. I guess by admitting that, I’m placing my trust in you.” You could only continue staring as you processed the information, unaware of the way his touch still lingered at your elbow.

“I…” You were certain there was some form of etiquette you were missing. How did people address deities? Lord? Your highness? Your area of expertise was that of commerce, not honourifics.

Zhongli laughed - the sound deep and comforting - gently closing your open jaw with his finger.

“I was going to gift the ores to you, but I’m scared that’d come off as more of an insult to the Lord of Geo…” You trailed off.

“I’d be more than happy to accept. You and I, we’re much more similar than you think. So don’t feel too pressured around me, alright?” His smile was heavenly. For a moment, you pondered the possibility that people had worshipped him for his handsome features, defined as if from stone itself. A heartbeat later, and you realised that much of the distance between your face and his had vanished. Panicking, you shoved the bag of goods into his chest and scurried away.

“It was nice talking with you! I’ll see you at the next meeting.” You blurted.

“I hope we’ll see each other before then.” Zhongli called as he watched your disappearing figure. He shook his head fondly, holding the bag in one hand and resting the other on his chin. You were so reminiscent of his younger, more draconic self. He could only attribute it to you and him being one and the same species - however rare it was.

Zhongli was simply happy to have found someone like himself - a person that shared the memory.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #fluff #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x reader #zhongli oneshot #zhongli imagines #zhongli fluff #zhongli

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 8 months ago

Text

Dancing with a wolf (FemalereaderocxAemondxAegon)

Aemond x reader x Aegon

Tags: Showsetting, blackmail, piracy, warcrimes.

🔷Summary: A long time ago, you paid the ultimate price for Prince Aemond's hand. And now your sister summons you back to court.

🔷Author's note: Dark.

🔷Wordcount :7000

🔷Warnings: Piracy, child-abuse and mentions of traumas and blood and gore.

Dancing with a Wolf

The Red Keep had not changed in years. It was the same old horrible looking building, with the same boring old towers and the same horrible people that called it their home. You look out the window of the carriage, quickly closing the curtains when a single sunray finds its way into your carriage. Today is a sunny, lovely day. So unlike how you feel inside.

You are irritated, hollow of the greed you have been feeling for a while now, as well as that anxious choking feeling you had hoped to be rid of for years now. You prided yourself into not feeling fear anymore, or not allowing yourself to feel it. Yet here you are, back in the city of Hell, King’s Landing on no one’s order than your sweet darling twin sister, Adalina. Or is it Princess Adalina now? You wouldn’t know. You haven’t written a word to that brat since you were exiled.

The Carriage finally drives up to the familiar courtyard, and when you are nearing the gates, you notice there is blood under your fingernails from where you slammed your fingers too deep into your own skin. You quickly wipe it away, on your skirt. The driver of your carriage, Haryold takes notice of your behavior. ‘’Ye Nervous, Miss?’’

You huff, denying it to yourself. As long as you don’t admit your feelings are real, they won’t feel real. ‘’That’s a ridiculous observation, Haryold.’’

He continues, stabbing the poorly healed wound.

‘’It’s just…Last time you were here, you were in quite the trouble.’’ Memories flash back to you, as you pretend that they are not your own. You are not the same girl you were back then.

‘’I don’t pay you to have an opinion on my personal matters. People who lurk around in caskets, shouldn’t be surprised if they ended up in one.’’ You warn him with that and one of your glares. Haroyld nods, understanding he crossed a line and does not speak when riding the carriage to the entrance of the keep.

There, two servants help you out of the carriage. One offers his arm, the other is prepared to help you with your feet. You drop your bag in the hand of the man, and after that you jump out of the carriage, landing on your leather shoes, glancing up at the sun and the castle.

It is quiet in the courtyard. Adalia invited you here, yet she isn’t here. You would be insulted, if you didn’t hate her. You walk towards the castle doors, your boots leaving muddy footprints from your last trip. A page or servant, someone who works for the castle, as you didn’t bother to keep up with titles of the staff, rushes after you. ‘’Lady! Lady Ethel! You must wait.’’

You turn on your heel, facing him. You smile, revealing your glimmering teeth, folding your hands on your back. ‘’I’m just visiting my sister’s future home. If you like me to report that you had a issue with me, be my guest.’’ You wait for him to deny that claim, that she’s an angel, a gift sent by the Seven. Instead of that he bows his head, letting you, as a dog rolling over. You smile, patting his shoulder and tossing him a coin, before entering the Red Keep.

—-------------

The smells, the lights and the damn banners. It all brings you back. You tried to look as yourself as much as possible. Your parents don’t need to be pleased. Your hair is loose, wild, untamed, unbothered. It is as wild as a river, as deep as an ocean and endless as the sea. Your good eye has a beautiful black line around it, highlighting the color of your pupil, and your other eye is shining as beautifully as ever. The silversmith did an amazing job, fitting your new eye. It is a small, pure silver orb with a citrine in it, symbolizing the pupil and the eye you lost. Your dress is a simple but practical dress in the colors of the Dornish.

Inside the castle, someone awaits you already. Two guards size you up, narrowing their eyes almost at the same time. ‘’I am here for Princess Adalia.’’ You tell one of them, when watching the other. The two men share a glance.

He judges your poor quality dress, your cloak with holes and your old boots. ‘’You are Lady Ethel?’’ No.

‘’Yes.’’ You say, smiling to hide your disgust. You are, in ways. In others, no. Not anymore.

You turn your head at the same time, and notice someone coming down the stairs. Someone with your hair color, someone wearing your smile. Someone living a life so different from yours. Your twin sister wears a fine silk gown with embroidered details of gold. She spots you easily, dismissing the ladies following her around as helpless little pups stalking their mother.

She comes over, and both guards nod in respect to Lady Adalia. You don’t. You do smile, and you notice her staring at your clothing and your fake eye. ‘’You changed.’’ That is the first time your twin sister says to you. Her voice almost sounds sincere. She sounds shocked.

You shrug. ‘’Disownment and exile does that to a person. Shall we go discuss things upstairs? I’m sure you can fetch a decent bottle of wine here.’’ You add with a wink.

Adalia groans, but follows.

You soon walk over the same stairs you did years ago, and it all comes back to you.

-ten years ago-

Your hair is put up high, making you look so much older than you actually are. The coal and berry juice itches on your face, as you aren’t used to wearing any of it. And your dress, it is the pretty own with the silver sparkles, as your mother requested by the seamstress. You never felt as a princess as much as you do tonight.

Your parents worked hard to arrange this match with Queen Alicent of House Hightower. Despite your family being some of her most loyal supporters, Queen Alicent was being ‘’difficult’’ about the match for months. But now, tonight, she finally has accepted: Her son, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, will marry either you or your sister, Adalia. You and her were born during the same moon and have shared everything in life. From plush toys to dresses and from dresses to secret wishes. You both love each other deeply.

You are presented first to court. You have to wait until the page reads your name out loud and when he does, you finally make your debut and enter the castle hall. Many eyes are fixated on you, but only one pair of eyes matters. You see him standing near the throne where his father sits, the boy with silver hair that one day will become your husband. ‘’Lady Ethel of House Mossdam!’’ A few murmurs rise up as you pass the crowds of people, coming closer to the Prince. He waits with his hands folded on his back, taking in your gown with a smile on his lips.

When you are finally in front of the King and Queen, you make a curtsy for them and turn to your future husband. He smiles, greeting you. Your mother who had escorted you, quickly tells the Queen which one of the two twins you are as you and Aemond converse about the candy that is put on the table. ‘’I personally prefer the dragonsticks but I can also recommend the chocolate cake.’’ The prince says, moving a bit with his hands as he talks, likely nervous. You nod and smile. Chocolate cake sounds delicious. You plan to get a piece when your sister is announced. Once again, all heads turn.

But this time it is different. Gasps and adoring coes are heard as your sister parades to the Prince, her head held high as a true Queen. You look at the Prince, trying to get his attention by offering him chocolate cake, but it doesn't matter anymore.

The moment he sees her, his eyes light up in a way they never did when he looked at you. Despite your best efforts, your smile fades and you turn to your parents for direction and help. You gently tap the Prince’s shoulder but he does not only ignore you, he also glares at you to warn you to not do that again. Insulted and confused, you look at the Queen who only smiles back at you the way you once saw so many smile at you. Her smile speaks where her mouth cannot. Disappointment, shame and embarrassment wash over you as Prince Aemond and your sister take off in another direction entirely, gushing happily to one another.

‘’Prince Aemond made his choice.’’ Queen Alicent declares with a smile. ‘’Adelia and him will be married when they both turn sixteen.’’

You came here, hoping that Aemond would like you. You came here, hoping that this would be your home. A strange, hollow feeling eats away at your soul, bringing out an unfamiliar darkness in you that you never felt before as you look at the smiling Adelia. Your feet act before you can think and you quickly dispose of the chocolate cake you had gathered. Fresh tears pierce in your eyes, threatening to cause a scene and to ruin all what you worked so hard for. And now he doesn't even want you.

You hear footsteps approach and see that your father has followed you. You offer him a piece of cake too. He only needs to glare at you so you put the plate down. ‘’I am very disappointed in you.’’ He tells you, his voice soft so only you may hear. ‘’Your sister only needed a few moments with the Prince, and you are making a fool of yourself and he doesn’t even care.’’ He refers to the cake incident. You had hoped that no one would’ve noticed. But as you lift your head and a few tears escape, you notice that all eyes in the crowd are on you, stuck as a fly in honey.

You must defend yourself. You must.

‘’Daddy, I tried.’’ You manage to stutter. He raises his hand, to silence you.

He has a scoff in his voice, but you hear anger more than anything else. ‘’You didn’t try hard enough. Do you know how much effort me and your mother put into this match? You could at least try to not look like a clown.’’ You quickly wipe at your make-up, smearing most of it on the sleeve of your dress.

He walks away with one final word that would forever haunt your memory. ‘’Disappointment.’’

Prince Aemond and Adalia seem to be happy, at least. You try to be happy for your sister, but somehow you are only reminded of your own failures and your own misery whenever you see the two of them together. You can’t take the suffocating growing feeling inside of you, threatening to tear you apart the way a wolf would tear apart a lamb. Your legs take off, running to the exit of the ballroom when you think no one looks.

When you try to enter the cool and calming gardens of the castle, you bump into a tall silver-haired person that smells unpleasantly. You don’t need to see his face to know it is the Prince’s older brother, Prince Aegon.

Aegon smirks at your teary face, your trembling hands and your dirty dress enjoying every miserable little minute. ‘’You’re one of the little brats who my brother would marry.’’ He observes, quickly blocking your way to the gardens.

You sniffle, nodding to confirm, as you know well enough it is rude to not answer a prince.

‘’I-I am. Please let me through.’’

He does not comply. ‘’Shouldn’t you be talking with my brother?’’ He asks. You huff, anger, getting the better of you.

Why does he care? ‘’No. He picked my sister.’’ You say, pointing to the two children who are now enjoying a chocolate cake.

The other prince huffs, annoyed quickly. ‘’You give up so easily? Do you know what’s at stake here?’’

He leans in a little closer, a mischievous spark growing in his eyes. ‘’I’ll let you into a little secret. If you want to hold Aemond’s attention, mention dragons. He never had one, he would do anything for one.’’ Dragons. You know of dragons.

House Targaryen is one of the few surviving houses of old Valyria, where dragons once roamed the big skies. Before the doom. ‘’Anything?’’ You reply, a plan forming in your head.

–

That night, when everyone is asleep, you sneak out of your rooms at the palace. You pass Ada’s bed on the way out, and you can’t help but feel horrible for how you are going to steal her husband and her future away from her. You even tear up, and can barely muffle your cries as you sneak past her.

On your own, you dress and prepare yourself. Your mission is simple: You will find a dragon, convince it to bring it with you, and offer it as a gift of betrothal to the Prince. He would not even dare to refuse it. It sounds like an amazing plan, and you are pretty proud of yourself for thinking it up.

There are just a few irons to work out:

You don’t know where dragons are, you don’t know how to bring a dragon home, and you don’t know how to speak with a dragon. But you assume that if you learn one, you learn the other two. It has to be.

You manage to sneak out of the castle easily: No one cares where you go, who you are, or what you come to do. You are a shadow in the light of the Red Keep. And whoever pays attention to shadows? You hear your own footsteps and take comfort into this.

You read in your history books about the Dragon pit, located in King’s Landing. That is where the dragons of the Targaryens are where their riders can’t attend them, and that is where you will go.

It is dark and cold in the city as you walk through it, but no one seems to pay you any mind. That is until you are in front of the huge colossal housing where the dragons stay. You never saw anything like it. It’s structure reminds you a lot of the Red Keep. A memory of a time long ago, long forgotten by most. Two guards outside warn you of trespassers and what will be done to them.

Both guards seem bored, yet dangerous. You had hoped there would be no security at all, but that might have been wishful thinking. Instead of backing down and rolling over, you think of a plan on how to get inside.

Luckily for you, a huge cart is approaching, with dead animal meat on top of it. Huge slabs of meat, likely meant for the dragons. You make yourself as small as possible. The driver is asked to stop and when the two guards are busy inspecting the meat on intruders, you sneak past them both, into the famous Dragon Pit.

There you avoid most torches, and go from pen to pen. First there is a big goldenlike dragon. It warns you when you approach by flapping it’s wings violently, hissing and warning you. You bet it would impress the prince, but you aren’t stupid enough to even risk that. So, you go onto another pit.

Most dragons you pass do not please you. Most are too big, too dangerous or too scary. You had almost given up your quest entirely when you stumbled upon a small, red with black dragon sitting in a lone pen, straw and food near him. He is as big as four apples, and arguably the smallest dragon you ever saw. It looks weak, tiny, vulnerable. And perfect as a gift for Prince Aemond.

You open the pen, easily and slip inside of the pen, as the dragon cocks its head at you. You withhold a giggle of excitement and glee as you realize that everyone will soon be either impressed or happy with you.

You approach the dragon, hands out to grab it. The dragon takes a few steps back, watching you very closely but does not fight or breathe fire at you. ‘’Please, dragon. Work with me! Prince Aemond wants a dragon, and I want Prince Aemond to like me.’’ You whisper to the creature that awkwardly stares back at you with its big hollow eyes.

You lean in closer to the hatchling, coming as close that you can smell its poop nearby it and the meat it devoured recently. You watch it twitch it head at you and both your hands come closer to his body, grabbing hold of it firmly.

It seems so tiny. So helpless.

And so, so threatened by your presence.

The dragon hisses, before slamming a claw down your face, tearing open your flesh, blood bursting from the wound as you open your mouth. You know you are supposed to be silent. You know this is forbidden. You know you can’t be heard.

But that pain…

The pain of a dragon’s claw, it is the worst pain you ever have been subjected to.

You cry out in agony, pain slashes through you as the claw of the dragon pierces your flesh, cutting deep and unforgiven. Your screams of pain echo through the dragon pit as you back away from the baby hatchling, covering the right side of your face.

When you remove your hands, they are drenched in your own blood. Your face feels as if it was ripped from your very own skin. You pant, heavily, as the dragon follows you around its pen. You finally manage to get back on your feet, your small legs trembling as you make it out of the pen at long last.

Outside of the pen, with the dragon safely behind bars, you fall back to your knees, your pain becoming too much too quickly. Blood is flowing down your face, your dress, your shoes. It drips on the floor and for your own sanity, it feels like it slips between the tiles itself, going into the earth below.

You can only wail and cry in pain as someone approaches, carrying a torch. It appears to be a old man, wearing a classic scribe robe you would see on septons. But this man is no septon. He is a guard to the dragons. He sees your bloodied face, your trembling legs and your shaking body and the dragon who keeps hissing at you from behind bars.

It is all he needs to leave. You assume he is leaving you to die. Your breath quickens, as panic takes hold of you. But you soon hear three voices, coming closer as you crawl in the direction of the door.

It is the dragon guard. And he brought the two outdoor guards. The dragon guard lifts his torch, shining a light upon your face. You blink back against the sudden warmth and light. The dragon guard mumbles something, and the other two guards look at you speechless as they take in your face.

“It's a girl!” One of them shouts. “Child, what were you doing here?’ He tries to get your attention. You don’t respond.

You can only look at the crying girl looking back at you in the reflection of his blade, and you see that something ripped her face in half. It is you. It is your face. You cower, making yourself as small as possible as your face keeps stinging, reminding you of your injuries. Of a very bleak looking future without any Prince by your side. Without any approval of your parents.

Without any husband at all.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

The dragonguards brought you to the King. It is embarrassing, seeing the entire castle woken up and everyone in their nightclothes for something you did. The King did you give the privilege and kindness to first receive excessive stitching in your face. You were offered milk of the poppy, but your mother denied it. ‘’Let her suffer the consequences of her actions.’’ She said. And so, your skin was pressed back together and stitched with a needle and thread in a slow, torturous manner. The Maester had never seen anything like it, and you could tell most women were horrified to see you like this, scarred and bloody.

All but Rhaenyra Targaryen.

The Princess of Dragonstone seems as furious as her little boy, the owner of the dragon you tried to steal. She resembles her ancestor, Queen Visenya.

You can only cry, no words to defend yourself or your actions come to mind. Your parents are near, yet they stand in the back of the room, disappointment and anger chizeld into their eyes forever. Adalia is near the King and Queen, close to Prince Aemond.

“What were you doing there?’’ King Viserys has a powerful voice that booms through the room as you are finally done with your stitches. What were you doing there? How could you be so stupid?

“Can we discuss this in private?” You ask, your voice soft. You don’t want Aemond to find out. Or your parents for that matter. Anyone but the King.

The king continues his sharp questions, spitting them out as fire. “Why were you trying to steal Prince’s Joffrey's dragon?” You don’t know. You really don’t. Maybe you wanted everyone to stop judging you. To stop pressuring you. To finally be in control for once. And you ruined it all.

“It was all my fault. I didn't know a dragon would be so aggressive.’’ You say, and the King’s harsh features soften, as he takes in your new fresh scars and trembling hands. You can see he feels pity for you.

A voice as sharp as glass cuts through the silence, surprising both his foes and friends. “You know nothing of dragons then.” Prince Aemond sneers. It's somehow even more painful when he scolds you. Unknowingly to him, you wanted to please him. You wanted him to like you. To pick you as his wife.

And now he is lecturing you as if you are a little stupid girl. You look in the reflection of a sword of the King’s guard from Dorne, seeing your scarred poorly stitched and terribly mangled face. You are just that. A stupid, little girl.

Aemond continues, taking steps in your direction.

“You came into its pen, you threatened it and tried to take it away. Of course it would lash out.” You don’t know anything about dragons. You don’t know much about anything.

You would love your parents near you. To defend you and to hold your hand. But they remain in the back, present but silent. And holding your hands? They won't even look at you.

For all they are concerned: You are a disgrace, a failure, a disappointment.

You expect to be executed on the spot for your treason. And truth be told? You’d welcome it. Anything to end the pain of your face, of the humiliation and the disappointment your parents feel for you.

So when Prince Daemon takes out Dark Sister, his famous sword, you just stand there and allow him to approach you.

Queen Alicent is quick to interfere.

“The girl has been scared. Forever. Lower your blade, Daemon. Even you won’t harm a disabled child.’’ You are shocked at her kindness. Why does she even care, you wonder? She didn’t like you during the ball.

But someone else disagrees firmly with the Queen. It is the Princess. ‘’My sons will have their answer. We must know why she stole the dragon. If not willingly we can always sharply question her.” You know what that means. Torture.

So you start talking, avoiding all eyes, your eyes aimed at your bloodied slippers. “I heard Aemond liked dragons. I wanted to give him one.” You confess, softly. Queen Alicent’s eyes shimmer with tears as she turns to look at her son, the prince who has many eyes on him now.

His face betrays that he is enraged. “You can't gift dragons!” He shouts, instead of taking you for your sacrifice, for your thoughtful gift, for the gesture, for the blood you lost because of him.

“I know that now.’’ You mutter, a tear falling rolling down your scarred cheeks.

Princess Rhaenyra approaches now too, angry and terrifying as a thunderstorm or maybe a big mother dragon. “Why would you give him a dragon? Why did you think my son's dragon was a good gift?” She makes it sound like this was some deliberate attack on her son. You would never. You don’t care for her sons.

You decide to tell the truth, hoping she will believe you. “Because the others seemed too big. This one seemed harmless.” You feel all eyes on you as you fumble with your hands.

“And because…Aemond had to pick a wife…and…” Briefly, your air is cut off as you sob, your emotions becoming too much. “I wanted it to be me.” Followed by a final plea. ‘’I’m sorry!’’ You shout.

If Rhaenyra cared, she has become quite good at not showing it. “What will we do with her, father? She tried to steal my son's dragon.” This is madness. She thinks that this was some plot to hurt her, to hurt her sons, her claim to the Throne. That was not what this was. This was a desperate act.

Queen Alicent scoffs in disbelief at her words, as if she can’t believe what the Princess is saying. “For Aemond. To please him. I fully believe there was no ill will in Ethel's heart.” She adds. “She only did what she thought was right.”

Rhaenyra glances at Alicent, but her glares are for you and you alone. She turns her silver braided head in the direction of your silent parents. ‘’What do the parents think?’’ You gulp.

Your mother steps forward first. ‘’In all truth, we are disappointed and grieved by Ethel’s stupidity. We fully believe she is not capable of marrying any noble.’’ Your mother says. ‘’We certainly cannot approve of a marriage between her and House Targaryen anymore. We all ask that we may leave with Adelia and our heads on our shoulders. You may do with Ethel as you wish.’’ Your head fills with horrible images of you losing your head, or rotting away in a prison cell.

You don’t feel well. You feel as if you can pass out any moment now. ‘’’Mother,’’ you manage to squeak. ‘’You can’t mean that.’’ Yet your mother turns away, ignoring you as if you don’t exist. It is the cruelest thing she has ever done to you.

‘’Will you disown Ethel?’’ Alicent asks, and at that point, you start crying to a hysterical angle. You can’t handle being alone. You can’t be alone. Your twin sister is perfectly silent by Aemond’s side, a faint smile on her lips.

Your mother glances one time at your face. ‘’I will do as the King wants.’’ She says.

The King glares. Not at you, however. At your parents. At your mother, your father, even at your sister. To you, he only speaks. “We will spare you. But we can't allow a marriage between you and Prince Aemond, not any other Targaryen.” You had figured that one out already.

Aegon snorts, reminding everyone that that weasel is present. “As if he even wanted her anymore.”

King Viserys ignores his son, standing up from the Iron throne. ‘’We must all rest now. The hour has grown late and I’m sure Ethel wants to forget this has even happened.’’

The Princess chases her father, her black and red skirts lifted so she may go faster.

‘’Father-’’ She smiles but this time her father does not fall for it.

‘’The matter, has been settled, Rhaenyra.’’

You are returned to your rooms after. You don’t even dare to glance at the Princess, convinced you made a powerful enemy for life.

—

You are cooling your face with a towel, still somehow crying, minutes later. “Where is Ada?” You ask as your parents enter. They had an argument. You heard both of them scream and things break.

The towel brings small comfort but the pain is unbearable. “Ada has been removed from her Chambers. She is living with the royal family. And that is for the best. You could ruin it all again. Forever this time.” Your mother warns you. You roll your eyes.

She gasps at your audacity, before she sits down, grabbing you by your freshly stitched face. You yelp in pain. “We are already a minor house. Our coffins are nearing their bottom. And to top it all you now have a hideous scar that makes you unattractive and reminds every man how stupid you truly are.” She hisses, close to strangling you.

‘’Resa, let her go.’’ Your father begs your mother. ‘’The king warned us if anything happened to her, he would know.’’ Why does the King even care?

Your mother stops her actions, as if only now realizing what she did in a wave of anger. She turns her back to you, her first born child. ‘’You disgust me.’’ She whispers before she leaves.

Ada and you never became close again after the incident. She blamed you for trying to ruin her chance at becoming a princess and you blamed her for ignoring you and shutting you out when your entire world was on fire.

—-------------

present

You watch the wine splash around in your cup. ‘’What do you want?’’ You ask your twin sister. Your sister raises her chin, trying to intimidate you. She has no idea what you've been through, however but you are not impressed.

‘’I want you to attend my wedding to prince Aemond.’’ Ah, yes. Aemond. The man you lost your eye for. The man who you became a scarred mess for. The man who changed your life.

You can’t and don’t want anything to do with him anymore. ‘’I heard men lie better than that.’’ You say. ‘’Whatever you want, it’s not my support when that Valyrian scum fucks you.’’ You become distant and eye her room for anything unusual. You notice a vanity with an excessive bouquet of flowers, likely a gift from her husband to be. You notice your eyes glide to the hair bracelet around your wrist, where black, dornish locks hang. You try to hide your smirk, but you fail.

‘’I am serious. I want your support.’’ She says, using her big puppy eyes. ‘’Mother and father died so suddenly.’’ There is an accusation there. You had nothing to do with it. In a way. Sort of. Kind of. Ok, it was your fault, but you didn’t use the daggers. That was someone else.

You know it is risky for you to stay at the castle. But you want to see how her marriage with Aemond is treating her. You tell yourself that lie, feeding it your brain, repeating it until it becomes the truth. You feel your tattoo ache on your back, the one you had Aros put there years ago. You want revenge, in truth. But you can’t let Ada know that. Sweet, doe-eyed Ada would never let anything happen to her Aemond, her precious Prince.

You try to think back of the last time you felt sadness. ‘’It was a great tragedy. I regret missing their funeral, but as you know, I was not allowed back in the estate.’’ You need to cough. Your sister however thinks you have become emotional and rubs your back.

She takes a deep breath as if what she says costs her great energy. ‘’I regret the way we parted, Ethel.’’ Not Ethel.

‘’So do I.’’ You lie smoothly. You do, but it is easier to convince yourself that this is just another harmless lie. You won’t allow yourself to see it as a truth.

Adalia does not notice and pulls you in a hug. You notice her eyes close, but yours are wide open. ‘’You may take a bath.’’ She says after the hug has ended. ‘’You …smell.’’ She adds, softly. You chuckle, scoffing a bit but agreeing. You smell.

She stops in her tracks. ‘’After that, we must talk. We have much to discuss. I want my sister to be near me when I become a Princess.’’ You are confused. Didn't you just talk? You were right. She wants more from you. Much more.

—

You are even allowed to use her bathroom when your sister is busy arranging a room for you. You fill the bath to the brim and toss in three different bars of soap, and wait for the bubbles to appear. You drop out of your dress, putting your golden dagger in your boots. You also raid your sister’s closet, searching for pretty fabrics and bottles of wine. You find a delicious Dornish well-aged bottle, likely a gift from one lord or the other. You pop the bottle open and take a big swing, lying down in the warm bath, drinking freely from the bottle as the soap bars continue to create bubbles. You could get used to this.

The door is pushed open after a few minutes. Your eyes shoot open and you reach for your boot, for your dagger to see who is approaching. Once you see who it is, you are shocked. You did hear rumors he lost his eye. A blessing, you called it. You remember treating the whole bar on a drink when you heard it the first time. Aros was furious you spent so much gold, but he did forgive you, and once he heard the news too, he bought everyone a second round.

Prince Aemond has interrupted your drinking and bath moment, staring at your bare naked chest as if he never saw a pair of tits before. You lower your hands, back in the warm water and pick the bottle back up and take another sip of the bottle, daring him to speak up.

He doesn't. He seems shocked yet fascinated by what he found in his fiancee’s bathtub. You have had many men look at you that way before. You know what is on his mind.

You don't even attempt to cover yourself. “O. You're not…” He begins, soft and gentle with his way of speaking to you. You recall how he yelled at you, how he screamed at you. So you don’t even blink.

You raise your eyebrows, picking up the soap and continuing where you left off before he interrupted. “Clearly. Did you hear about this wonderful invention?” You ask, when cleaning your arms. Fascinated, he watches, shaking his head, his cheeks growing warmer and warmer.

“No.” He breathes, as you lower the soapbar underwater. You grab it, throwing it at his head. It hits him, perfectly, as he quickly backs away.

You scowl, lecturing him angrily. “It's called knocking. People usually do that before storming in.’’ You dryly respond.

Prince Aemond gawks, looking at you and the door, you and the door, the door and you and finally decides it's for the best to leave. “I-, yes.” He says. ‘’It’s just…I haven’t seen you in years and…You’ve grown.’’ Clearly.

As much as you enjoy him flustered over your body, you do have more things to do. “Where is your brother?’’ You ask. ‘’I have things to discuss.’’ You smile, and you watch Aemond’s gleeness die in a mere moment, jealousy breaking out of him.

‘’My brother?” He asks, dumbfounded. Aros needs a new ship. Aegon has money. Aros is not stupid, Aegon is, there is the end of the story.

You smile, sweetly, tilting your head. ‘’Are you deaf too?’’

He approaches, anger getting the better of him. You can’t even move but if you could, you wouldn’t have done that either. You just smirk, enjoying his little worked up face and angry pouty lips.

‘’I’m your Prince.’’ He reminds you, firmly. ‘’You will grant me your respect.’’ You have one prince. It is not Aemond.

You laugh, empty and shallow. ‘’No you’re not. You made that choice years ago. You choose wrong, little princeling.’’ You continue, taking another sip from the bottle. ‘’I made my own happiness. I don’t know what my sister wants from me yet, but I am not interested in feeding that brat if she was dying of hunger in a desert.’’

‘’Our interests align, then.’’ He leans on the tub with his hands, coming closer to your naked body. His voice becomes a soft, breakable plea. ‘’I want my freedom back.’’ You laugh, enjoying his misery. ‘’I should’ve chosen you. I didn’t know how she was.’’ He adds. There it is. Words you always dreamt of hearing.

Yet this marriage is old as stone, and it is likely that Prince Aemond has tried to talk his mother out of it before. ‘’The marriage is an old agreement. How do you plan to break it, Prince Aemond?’’

‘’I was hoping you’d know that.’’ He says. ‘’I heard you are quite the clever girl.’’ You roll your eyes. Did he really think that would work? No wonder he is in a arranged marriage. This man couldn't seduce a wife if his life depended on it.

‘’Hah! Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me. I am not a weak little doe eyed girl.’’ You tell him.

He doesn’t respond, looking at your wrist. ‘’Whose hair are you wearing around your wrist?’’ Aros. Yet you won't tell him. It is bad that he notices. The hair is a tradition among sea folks, people who travel a lot and yes; pirates. You cut off a lock of your own hair, so your loved one may tie it around their wrist, keeping you near them in a way.

‘’Please answer me, Adder.’’ For the first time during your time in the Red Keep, your head twists, shock written across your face as you look at Aemond’s smirking pink lips. He adressed you by your nickname. He knows. But how much?

Prince Aemond smirks. You glare, putting the bottle aside, as this has just become a serious conversation. One of life and death. You reach for your boots, showing him your dagger. He chuckles, delighted. ‘’Oh, that’s a adorable little blade. Did your boyfriend give you that?’’ He asks, mockingly.

It is true. You are not Ethel. You have become the first mate and paramour of Aros Blackwaters, the fearless Dornish pirate that captured your heart. You have stolen from royal and merchant ships belonging to many nations and kingdoms, including the Seven Kingdoms.

You sigh. ‘’I am not his girlfriend. I am his paramour.’’

‘’So, his slut.’’ He remarks, unimpressed.

You roll your eyes. He’s such a simpleminded man. ‘’What do you want with Aros?’’ Although, it is pretty obvious. He is a pirate. Aros regularly attacks Westerosi ships.

Aemond pretends to think. ‘’I am certain he can be of use on a rainy day.’’ He chuckles. You are silent.

‘’Aros never told you, did he?’’

You only look at him. Aemond leans in closer.

‘’He’s not just any Dornish man. He’s the bastard of Qoren Nymeros Martell. His first born bastard at that.’’ He pats your wet hand, as if rewarding you. ‘’Congratulations, your pirate boyfriend is the runaway prince of Dorne.’’ He reveals as if this isn’t already known to you at all.

You glare at the ceiling, smacking his hand away from your own. ‘’Touch me again and become known as Aemond one-hand as well.’’ You warn him. ‘’Aros never liked his family or his birthright. I’m telling him of you and your plans.’’ It is true. He would never help Aemond.

He smirks, a bit darker as he takes in your body.

‘’Do that. If I put you in a nice, dark cell, your boyfriend will come here and I’ll finally be able to jail him for his crimes, or worse, depending on my mood.’’ You know he would. You know he could. Aros would save you. He would risk his life for you. He is just as stupid as Aemond is.

You glare. Aemond leans closer, his lips coming closer to your ear so he can whisper. ‘’Now, I don’t want to hurt you. But for the sake of my family, for duty, for the crown, for the greater good? I will run you through with my sword and make that little scar of yours look like a adorable little accident.’’ You scoff.

‘’Looks like the gods gave you your own little adorable scar.’’ You remark, making him much more upset than before. He growls, clutching the bathtub to avoid hurting you personally. ‘’Although, I’m the lucky one. I at least have my wits so I can make my own happiness. But you, a little boy who always seeks validation from others? I pity you.’’ you whisper, brushing your fingers over his cheeks. He does not pull away. ‘’I despise you.’’ You add.

He only smirks. ‘’Soon I don't need validation. I will have it all. And more. You can either play along with my games and my plans, serve me and my brother well-’’ You frown, turning your head.

‘’Serve?’’ He makes it sound so sexual.

Aemond slightly blushes. ‘’Well, do our dirty work. I promise you, we won’t need help in the bedroom.’’ You see another plan forming in your head, one where you and Aron take the throne from the two princes, and sit it.

You nod, smiling. ‘’No, you do have both your hands.’’

He glares. He rolls his eyes, eying the heavens as if to ask the gods why he is forced to work with you. ‘’Or I will reveal you for the Pirate that you are, for the war criminal you are, and will see you hanged at dawn.’’ How romantic.

‘’I have never received a more moving proposal-’’ Your mockery is interrupted by your own thoughts. ‘’What do we do about my sister?’’ You ask.

Aemond smiles, mischievously. ‘’I might take her flying later, you of all people should know just how dangerous dragons can truly be.’’

A/N

Who's gonna listen when you run out of lies? Who's gonna hear you, when your words seem worthless? Who's gonna save you when you're out of time? And who's gonna want you, when you're on your knees, begging

"Oh, please take me at my word, I'm desperate I swear, I never meant to hurt no one, no Oh, please stay for what it's worth, I'm desperate" You're on your own

So don't you call my name I will take you down Should've known that you've been dancing with a wolf So don't you call my name I will take you down I'm not your friend, you burned a bridge I chew you up and spit you out

Really captures this fic really well.

I hope yall liked this little one shot!

:) i was inspired by @valeskafics latest aemond/aegon/witch reader thingy and wanted to make something!:) Hope yall liked it and im sorry for leaving for so long. mental health is kicking my butt.

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huihuiheart · 1 month ago

Text

First For Forever - Woodz

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Pairing: Seungyoun x Afab! Reader

Genre: Established Relationship, Light Fluff, Smut

Summary: The happenings on you and Seungyoun’s wedding night. Something so sweet and loving and special.

Warnings: Very very slight ring kink, fingering, light cum eating, unprotected sex, implied cumming inside (though never explicitly said). I think that’s it this is really so soft I was like sick.

Word Count: 1751

The sparkle of his ring seemed to reflect off your eyes and it made him smile. You adored it so much, the way the ring sat on his finger showed the world that he was yours forever. He loved the way it seemed to affect you so, making you melt from any distance whenever your eyes picked up on it again. It had been an all-night occurrence throughout the long reception after your ceremony. Though Seungyoun was sure he was likely the same way after he proposed and placed the ring on your finger all those months ago, he’s just had time to adjust to the sight unlike you. It was cute how obvious you were though, even if you were also entirely clueless. He had no problem showing the ring off for you though, just like he had never had a problem displaying the claim you held entirely over him.

Seungyoun is quick in leaving the conversation he was a part of, despite having lost focus on it long ago in favor of noticing you, his bride, from across the room. Making his way back to you, after separating for the first time since the wedding with the goal of greeting more guests. Though neither of you seemed to be able to last without the other for long. Seungyoun smiling at you as he brushes some hair out of your eyes, the same eyes that followed the wedding ring throughout the motion. Only losing sight of it as his fingers brush over your cheek delicately, letting you feel the chill of the metal against your skin and making a shiver run down your spine.

“How are you feeling my love? Doing okay?” It was so simple and yet that alone could have you melting into him. Just leaning against him for a few moments, charging you back up some, even if your battery was draining for the night.

“Yeah, but I think after a few more songs I’ll be ready to tell everyone goodnight and get out of here.” You admit, swaying with him as he hums in response to you.

“You know I’ll never argue with a chance to get you all to myself.” Seungyoun chuckles, kissing your forehead, “Just tell me whenever really. I’m fine with partying longer, but I also would love to dote on my lovely wife, so I shall be content either way.”

You hum back, contemplating for a few moments before sighing, “Then why wait? It’s time to be alone, just us... husband and wife.”

"I couldn't agree more, sweetheart." Seungyoun guides you to make the final goodbyes and announce your send-off. Everyone going outside now to do that, lighting your path with lanterns made for such an occasion. Your husband opens the door to the car for you and lets you in before making his way now as well.

He doesn't drive for long seeing as how the two of you won't be leaving for your honeymoon tonight. Instead going back home tonight before leaving the following day to allow you both some comfort and rest before your trip.

Seungyoun helps you out of the car and guides you inside, arms slipping around your center from behind as you both look over your form in the mirror. His lips meet your bare shoulder with a smile, "How about I help you get more comfortable and then draw you a bath? You can relax while I bring in all the gifts."

"The gifts can wait. I just want you, love. Though you're more than welcome to get me more comfortable. I would love nothing more than your touch right now." Seungyoun chuckles, drawing back just to work on unlacing the back of your dress.

“So impatient all the time.” He teases smirking at you in the mirror, “You can wait a little longer my love.”

Your soft whines are cut short when he starts placing tender kisses over your neck, fingers finally slipping under your dress now that it’s fully unlaced and moving to help you slip it off.

“This was tied so tightly on you sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable sooner?” He takes your hand to help you step out of the dress now pooling at your feet, leaving you simply in panties and your glittering shoes.

“I barely noticed most of the night, too elated to finally fully be yours.” You admit, not letting go of his hand as you step closer now.

“You can just admit that I’m distracting sweetheart.” Seungyoun teases, his tongue poking at his cheek as he does before he smirks at you, “You are too though. Especially because I couldn’t help but think about how I wanted to show you all the love that I hold for you tonight my lovely wife.”

“And will you show me all the love you hold for me tonight?” You ask him softly and Seungyoung smiles wider now than he has all night.

“Tonight and every night my lovely wife.” He tells you honestly before leaning in for a sweet kiss. Only this one has more heated undertones. Seungyoun hums into your mouth as he feels you working to unbutton his shirt. His tie had been lost somewhere in the chaos of the car having thrown it in with things after having removed it at the reception. Something you were thankful for as it now meant one less offensive article between you and him. Seungyoun pulls away as you push his shirt off.

“Lay down love, I want to spoil you.” He says, hands on your hips as he already guides you to lay back onto the bed for him. Seungyoun carefully slips your panties off but leaves your shoes on to add to how you’re adorned beneath him. Glittering from the shows and the jewelry gifted to you by him, as well as your wetness of course.

“I don’t think there’s a prettier sight in the world.” Seungyoun’s praise makes you whine, squirming a little at the heat of his gaze. He’s on a mission though, truly meaning it when he said he wanted to spoil you. Two of his fingers slip through your folds to collect some of your arousal before circling lightly over your clit to get more of that. His intent is not to tease though so once he feels you’ve given him enough more his middle finger slips inside while his thumb takes over on your clit. His movements are slow but deliberate, not teasing or lazy. He is in no rush, wanting to allow you both to savor this moment. Seungyoun’s actions seek out all of the points that make you feel the best while his pace allows him to ensure that every detail no matter how minuscule can be committed to memory.

This was not the first time that you both were intimate, but this time was different, special. You were reminded of this when his ring finger slipped in beside his other one, gasping a little louder at the feeling of the cold metal ring there now. Seungyoun’s pupils dilate further at how it shines brighter now that it’s covered in you. The ring teases against you with each slow drag of his fingers until Seungyoun finally pushes them a little deeper when your thighs begin to tremble just slightly.

“That’s it sweetheart, cum for your husband my love.” Seungyoun softly eggs you on as his fingers work more deliberately to get you there, “I want you to show me how good and loved you feel. I want you to leave a trail of it on my fingers and ring my beautiful wife.”

His sweet words, as they often were, became your undoing. The final push that you needed to give in to how good Seungyoun was making you feel. Something special in the air between you both. Seungyoun’s gaze is soft yet lustful as he brings his fingers to his mouth, humming at the taste of you. His saliva drips down to glisten along with your cum on his wedding ring until he cleans there as well. His hand then cups your jaw, tilting your head to look at him as he settles on his knees between your legs.

“I want you to keep your eyes on me, love. I want us to be fully immersed in one another on our first night as husband and wife.” Seungyoun leans down to place a delicate kiss on your lips for a brief moment before he looks back into your eyes as he slowly pushes in. His gaze never wavers as he intently takes in every expression you make for him, adoring how your eyes are practically filled with stars as you look back up at him.

Seungyoun’s actions now follow the same pattern as earlier. Every move that he makes is slow and purposeful, a deliberate attempt at reveling in every flawlessly pleasurable detail of you both inside and out. In the process allowing for you to do the same. Spending more time in the bliss of each other now than when you first obsessively learned each other’s bodies. Seungyoun is getting as deep as he can as if he’s looking to learn even more and offer you the same. His pace however does not mean he lacks a desire to make you fall apart for him, on the contrary. He shows you this in how he intentionally moves to press against every spot that sends tingles through your body and his constant attention to your clit. Like him you wish that you could stay in this heavenly moment forever, it is simply too good for that to happen though. Your body signaling that your end was soon to come to your disappointment, especially as Seungyoun notices.

“It’s okay love you can cum for me. We’re husband and wife now, devoted to one another forever. Which means I will work to always give you whatever you desire and deserve including these moments.” Seungyoun assures you watching how your eyes glitter with a few tears at his loving words before being swept away in pleasure. Your expressions and sounds of pure bliss are what send Seungyoun over the edge as well. The man is not working so hard with his thrusts as he rides you both through it, smiling at you as he watches you blink back out of the haze of your orgasm, “I meant every word of what I said, sweetheart… I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#fic: first for forever #woodz smut #woodz imagine #woodz x reader #woodz fluff

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doe-eyed-fool · 3 months ago

Text

Prey | Chapter Fifteen

Alastor x Fem!Reader

You were sat on the loveseat in the living room, eyes glued to your hands that rested on your lap, refusing to look anywhere near Alastor. Who was currently standing by the window, wiping his hands clean of any blood with a damp rag. Neither of you said a word since you entered the house. You had nothing to say to him.

Well, no, actually you had plenty you wanted to say. To scream at him, more like. But the shock of what you just witnessed, hasn't fully worn off. And needless to say, you were more than just a little upset with Alastor.

But that didn't stop him from talking to you.

"Are you afraid of me, dearest?"

You said nothing, still not taking your eyes off of your hands.

Alastor set the rag down on a near by coffee table before taking a few steps your way. He stopped just before you, and you could get a glance at his shoes from where you were looking. Alastor didn't miss the way you tensed once he approached you.

It gave him such an unpleasant feeling, seeing you like this. The way you looked at him, as if he were a monster. And he was. He knew that. He knew just how many people he's hurt, he's murdered in cold blood. But you were never going to be one of them.

Alastor would have never put you in the place of those lesser men. You were a gift from heaven, a diamond in the rough, an angel amongst the scum. Why would he ever harm you? Why would he ever snuff out your light?

He wouldn't. And he needed you to know that.

"I'm sure you have a lot on your mind." Alastor spoke gently. "A lot of questions, no doubt."

Still not looking at him, you finally speak. "You didn't answer my question from earlier. How long have you been doing this? How many people..." The words died on your lips, that same disgusted feeling creeping it's way back into you.

You inhale and shut your eyes tight. "How many people did you kill?" It was painful just to ask such a question, to Alastor of all people. You thought you knew him, better than most people did. Turns out this entire time, you had fallen in love with a killer.

"A while." Alastor answered. "And...a lot."

And he was doing it all behind your back.

"My father was the very first." That nearly made you look up from your lap, but you somehow managed to keep still. "Drowned him in the bayou. That night I made up the lie that he had run off with some harlot, and that he wouldn't be coming back. It broke my mama's heart but...she was better off without a man like that in her life."

Your hands bunched up the fabric of your nightgown. "You've been doing this...for that long?" You mutter. Alastor's father left town well over ten years ago. Alastor had been murdering people without you knowing for all those years...

"Well, it's not like I have a tremendous head count." Alastor chuckled weakly. "No, after I killed my father, I thought I would never do it again after that. And I didn't, for almost a year I'd say. But, during that time those cravings started to drive me to the brink. And once I finally did it again...my mind finally settled."

"When mama died...There was a break. A few years, I'd say. As you know, I didn't feel like doing much of anything." Alastor muttered. "I'm still grateful you somehow pulled me back, got me back on my feet. And still after, I thought it had stopped. But...as you can see, it hadn't."

"But Y/n...it didn't stop at murder, if we are being entirely truthful."

You didn't want to hear anymore of this. It was bad enough that the man you love was a murderer. What else could be worse? You didn't want to know, you weren't sure if you could take much more of this.

"As of recent, I've started to grow a taste for...the flesh of my victims. I was certain I had lost my mind all together after finding this out. After I tried it, and liked it, I was sure there was no sanity left in me. And maybe there isn't. I have no intentions on stopping."

Finally, you looked up at him. You felt sick. You were furious, you felt betrayed. The same lips that touched your own, were the very same that were stained with the blood of his countless victims. You brought a hand to your head, a choked sob left you.

"Why?"

It was all you could say, all you could think. And all Alastor could say was,

"Why not?"

Alastor kneeled down before you, taking your free hand with his. You didn't have any will to pull away. "I'll ask again...Are you afraid of me?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Are you going to kill me too?" You ask sorrowfully.

Alastor raised your hand to his lips, and for the first time, you felt disgust. "Never." Alastor mumbled against your palm. "I love you, Y/n."

You fell silent again, though your lack of reciprocation did not upset Alastor in the slightest. He understood. But he also feared what this will bring. You could not leave him, he really will go insane if you do.

"I've always kept you safe, have I not? This changes nothing. I will continue to keep you safe, even from me. Though, that will never be a concern for either of us." Alastor cupped your face gently. "My love, my light. No harm will ever befall you, as long as I am here." He's done it plenty of times before, he can do it again.

"Just please...stay with me. I need you here with me. You're all I have..."

Was it guilt? Was that the reason you chose to do what you did? You could never look past the foul crimes Alastor has committed. You would never see him the same way ever again. You wanted to scream, you wanted to run as far away from him as possible. You did not want to continue being in a relationship with a cannibalistic serial killer.

And yet, you stayed. And because of that, you began to wonder just who had no sanity left. Alastor not only murdered people, but consumed their remains. And you did nothing. You never spoke a word of it to anyone after that night. You stayed with him.

Alastor was a monster in every sense of the word. And yet. All you could think about was the Alastor you thought you knew. The one who cared for you, stuck with you through thick and thin, who loved you.

You wanted him back. You wanted that Alastor back. Because he was not Alastor. He wasn't the man you fell for, he isn't the man you once knew. But then again, you never truly knew Alastor.

You made one thing very clear before you made your decision. If Alastor really wanted to continue his...activities. You made him swear you'd never know when he was doing it. You didn't want to know about it, you didn't want to hear about it, you didn't want to see it.

Just like when he'd go on his hunting trips.

Alastor agreed to your terms, and for almost a month after that night, you never saw even a glimpse of what you saw then. Though, and maybe it was just your paranoia, you swore you could still smell that horrible stench, coming from up under the floorboards...

Mimzy was quick to notice the slight change in your behavior. She knew Alastor almost as long as you have, she could tell when someone was faking a smile. She would always catch you crying after shows, in your dressing room. And she tried her best to offer some help, but if you did not tell her what was wrong, and you didn't, she couldn't do much of anything.

Needless to say, your relation ship with Alastor became more strained. You barely spoke to him, you didn't meet his eyes, you hardly ever let him touch you anymore. You even began sleeping back in the old guest room.

And while it hurt Alastor, he could not be upset with anyone but himself. Deep down he always sort of knew, you'd find out. But he had hoped you'd only find out after he was gone. But that was a selfish wish. To die, only leaving his carnage behind for you to discover. Leaving you alone to deal with that, and alone with the tainted memory of who he once was.

But was it any better to have you know while he was still here? You were miserable anyway. At least if he were dead, you would not have to wake up to see him everyday, a constant reminder of the lies he's told you for so many years.

A constant reminder that you had fallen for a monster. A demon wearing human skin.

Your cries were not hidden from his ears either. He'd walk past your room, to hear your sobs, and it broke his heart all over again.

Alastor stepped into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He stared for what felt like hours, and the longer he looked, the longer his own face became more and more disgusting to look at.

While he gained most of his mother's genes, sometimes if he looked hard enough, he could see some resemblance of his father.

'You're better than he is.' He thought, brows furrowing. 'You hurt the woman you love, not with your hands or your words, no. But you've caused her more pain than any fist or insult could ever.' Alastor's hands tightened at the edge of the sink, so hard that he thought he might crack it.

'If you were half the decent man you pretend to be, you would let her go.'

But he would not. He knew it was wrong, but Alastor could not bring himself to set you free. If you go, you might as well rip his heart out and take it with you. Not that he didn't deserve it. You truly were an angel.

Staying for someone like him, simply because he begged you to.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps walking past his bedroom door. He stepped out of the bathroom and briskly walked to the door and opened it. He watched as you start to descend the stairs. "Y/n?" Alastor asked, walking to the top of the stairs. "Are you going somewhere?"

You stopped half way down and look up at him with an icy glare, but underneath that hard stare, Alastor could see just how tired you looked Sleep wasn't easy for you anymore. "I am. Is that ok?"

"It is." Alastor nods. "When will you be back?"

"Later tonight. Mimzy wanted to see me for a while, she knows I'm... not feeling well." You say, turning back to look ahead. "It won't do any good, whatever she has planned to take my mind off things. And it's not exactly like I can tell her what's bothering me."

"Y/n..."

You walk to the bottom of the stairs and head for the door. You didn't even say goodbye before stepping outside and shutting the door behind you, Alastor watching wordlessly as you go.

'You make her miserable. Completely and utterly miserable.'

"Shut up...I know that." Alastor put a hand to his head, he could already feel another headache coming along.

'Then why continue to keep her here?'

Alastor did not say a word, the headache already settling in.

'You are selfish. I bet you rather kill her yourself, just to keep her from walking out on you.'

"Shut. Your. Mouth." Alastor said lowly.

'But doesn't that sound nice? She'd be tied to you forever that way...especially if you...made her a part of you. Keep with you always...and her flesh would taste so divine-"

"Enough!" Alastor's fist met the wall harshly, he could feel blood forming on his knuckles from the impact. "Just shut your mouth, for five fucking seconds!" He panted, his head throbbing.

It's not like Alastor has never thought of it. Once...maybe twice, did the thought ever cross his mind. Your skin, as flawless as it is, made Alastor's mind wonder to how beautiful was everything hidden underneath. Did the rest of your body taste as decadent as your lips when they graced his own?

But he swore he would never act on those thoughts, and damn it all, he meant it. He would keep you safe from whatever threatened to harm you.

Even his own darkest desires...

Tags-

@martinys-world

@sirens-and-moonflowers

@catticora

@millie-the-goth

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader

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