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her-satanic-wiles · 1 year ago

Text

October 25th

Pregnancy, Papa Emeritus I x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.7k.

Warnings: Pregnancy; pregnancy sex; (consensual) groping; cunnilingus (I absolutely did not steal this scene from a previous Primo fic I wrote and change it up slightly, I don’t know what you’re insinuating but it is unappreciated and how very dare you); praise kink (y’all should know me by now); body worship; mild breeding kink; multiple orgasms;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

If Primo had his way, he would have you bed-ridden and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Ministry. He wasn’t ever a possessive man, nor was he territorial, yet all that changed when you fell pregnant with his child. He hated members of the Clergy even so much as breathing in your direction, let alone looking at you or, Satan forbid, trying to hold a conversation with you. When other people made a reach for your pregnancy bump, he found himself slapping their hands away with his cane. That you were grateful for.

Apparently all personal space went out the window when you became pregnant, your baby bump was free real estate for strangers to touch without permission apparently. But you were always the bad guy when you told them to back off. You loved that Primo listened when you complained about it, and you were incredibly grateful that he was willing to take on the persona of the gumpy old man if it meant you could get some space.

However, behind closed doors, Primo was almost as bad as the rest of the world when it came to your personal space. He fussed, he worried, but he also groped. He simply could not keep his hands off you. Some of it was innocent, especially when he would come up behind you and gently lift your bump, giving you some respite from the heavy burden you had been carrying for so long. But most of the time his hands were just downright naughty with the places he gripped onto.

Your breasts were a particular favourite of his hands. Your pregnancy had made you grow everywhere, tits and ass included, and he was certainly a huge fan of this. The way you were now multiple cup sizes bigger, heavy with milk for your unborn baby - all maternal and ready to sustain the life you were creating. Not to mention the way you jiggled when you moved, the way your ass wobbled as you wandered around your chambers. He couldn’t help himself most of the time, he just had to have his hands on you.

The particular maternity dress you wore today was really pretty, and comfortable for you especially in the coolness of the Italian autumn. But it was particularly triggering for you partner given it showcased your breasts in the most perfect of ways, and fell over your hips giving you a tempting shape that he simply could not resist. All you were doing was standing there pouring yourself a glass of water. But that was a crime in Primo’s eyes that couldn’t go unpunished.

You felt his wandering hands over your hips, gloved digits stroking the clothed flesh and meandering upwards to cup your heavy breasts. His lips, hidden beneath his thin paint, caressed the back of your neck, tickling your sweet and sensitive spot. You giggled at the sensation, but couldn’t deny the instant arousal that flooded your cunt the second you felt his hands on your body. His arousal evident by the hardness pressed against your lower back, and transferring into you.

“What’s got into you?” You asked, turning your head to look at your partner over your shoulder.

“You look positively delectable, fiorellina.” He complimented, his voice muffled by your skin.

“You do realise we have meetings and many other things to do today, right?”

“Frankly, my dear,” he swivelled your hips and turned you around so he could see your face, “Non mi importa. Not when I want to ravish the mother of my child as she deserves, no?”

His lips met yours and grew more passionate the longer he was attached to you; his hands became more and more impatient with the clothes that were separating your body from his. Your own hands moved to grip his robes, pulling them upwards to have access to his hard cock. Primo hated wearing undergarments with his robes - they were long enough to cover everything so why would he bother with them? Though, with your pregnant belly, it was particularly difficult for you to play with him in the way you usually would - or even wanted to. “Papa.” You complained through kisses. “I can’t touch you.”

“To the bedroom, fiorellina. Let me touch you instead, sì?”

You nodded and wandered off to the bedroom, removing your panties when you got there and sitting on the bed to help you kick them off completely. When he walked into the bedroom, he helped you out of your dress, gently pulling the fabric off of you and kissing the exposed flesh. He always wanted to make sure you knew how he loved and appreciated you, even if he was rougher with you than he ought to be. Undressing you and giving you tender kisses was his way of doing that. Your bra was the next to go, and Primo groaned at the sight of your nipples, enlarged and erect, just begging to be played with and sucked on. He gave you one final kiss before sitting you back onto the bed.

“Lay back.” Primo ordered you, removing his mitre and placing it on the dresser where it usually sat. You did as he asked, lying back and watching him disrobe - naked in an instant. That thought always made you laugh.

He situated himself between your legs, staring at your glistening folds and taking in the glorious sight of them, wet and ready for him. Your swollen clit, red and aching, screaming at him to wrap his lips around them and provide you with the most pleasure. You were always ready for him at a moment’s notice before the pregnancy, but the hormones had made you ravenous and insatiable. Not that Primo was complaining, of course. You made him feel young again with the amount of times you wanted to mount him and take what you needed from him. He was always more than happy to oblige, enjoying his pregnant wife bouncing on his cock first thing in the morning.

He first placed kisses to your calves - gentle, soft pecks that were barely there, but sporadically timed so you didn’t know when they’d land. His fingertips delicately caressed any exposed flesh he could reach, adding another layer of sensation to the already soft touches. Though, you knew your thighs would be painted black and white from his paints transferring.

“Always so good for your Papa.” He whispered, his deep voice gravelly with decades of use. “Always so obedient and helpful.” His lips now had moved up to your pubic mound. You could feel his breath flow between your folds before he’d placed a kiss just above them, making you shiver in anticipation for that final touch.

Papa, at times, felt like a walking stereotype given his unmatched patience and languid movements. He liked to blame his age, but you knew he enjoyed torturing you slowly, like he was sustained from your frustrations alone. And so, when you had grown impatient and considered sitting up to tell him to let you please him instead, his tongue finally made contact. But this time it had no softness to it - this time he was brutal in his movements.

The initial lick was broad and rough, causing you to scream out unexpectedly. But this was soon followed by his lips suctioning themselves around your clit and sucking as hard as he could, giving you overwhelming pleasure that bordered on pain. With his mouth still closed around your clit, the tip of his tongue continued to work it in multiple directions, almost erratic with his ministrations. He continued like this for what seemed like eternity; his head even moving in all directions when he sucked on your sensitive bud to keep your pleasure as lively as possible. Usually, such intense pleasure would have your hands flying to his bald head, but your rather large pregnancy belly stopped you from reaching him, and so you had to make do with the sheets below you, gripping onto them as tightly as you could for purchase and to keep yourself from floating away. All the while he remained face-first in your core, unrelenting and unwilling to stop until you reached your peak.

He pulled away briefly so that he could spit on his fingers, placing them inside you and tapping upwards as his mouth worked on your clitoris. He fully intended to be inside you today, and needed to stretch you out to accommodate his size. Though, of course, you appreciated the deep burn that came with his cock filling you up, he couldn’t bear to hurt you, especially while you were hyper-senstive with the hormones your body was pumping through you to create and sustain life. Your walls were extra slippery today, and your g-spot so tender that a single touch had your hips bucking upwards quickly at the shock, despite feeling him stretch you. You called out, much louder than intended at the feel of his fingers perfectly abusing that spot inside you, dragging the utmost pleasure from your body and playing you like a fiddle he’d been playing for years.

“P-Papa!” You breathed, your body feeling like it was on fire. Your hands shifted from the sheets to pinch and play with your nipples. “I’m so close, please - fuck! - Please don’t stop!”

Primo only grunted in response, adding a little extra vibration when he did. He refused to stop what he was doing because he knew you’d lose that feeling. Instead, he upped his movements and heightened the intensity, causing you to finally tip over the edge and climax all over his face. Your back arched and your mouth fell open, with a string of expletives tumbling out of it. And Primo only stopped when you sat up and pushed him away.

He certainly was a sight to see emerging from your wetness; his paint around his mouth had completely dissolved, showing you his swollen pink lips, soiled with your cunt. There was a lazy smile on his face, and a cackle in his throat at the sight of your exhausted face, your eyes half-closed in sleepiness and your mouth wide open as you tried to breathe in as much oxygen as your lungs would hold.

“Are you ready for me, fiorellina?” He asked you, kneeling on the bed and placing your thighs over his.

“Yes, Papa. Please fuck me.”

He groaned at the way your voice moaned the last three words, bottom lip catching between his teeth and eyes roaming lower and lower until he was staring at your cunt again. His cock was placed at your entrance, ready to push his way inside you; and fuck, when he finally did? It felt like magic.

Your sensitive walls welcomed him with proverbial open arms as he slowly sank deeper and deeper into the warm recesses of your cunt. The head of his cock gently kissed your cervix as though it were welcoming him home after being apart for so long. Every inch he fed into you felt delicious as it stretched you out to fit him like a glove; a torturous yet spectacular feeling until his hips were flush to yours and his mouth released a breath of relief followed by a sharp hiss. The noise you made as you felt him breach you went straight to his cock, making it twitch as it was going in, causing you to moan even louder. Had someone been playing with your clit, you were sure you would have cum instantly.

“Papa!” Your voice was a desperate whine, a plead for him to be closer to you, or even start moving inside you. You needed him to do something.

“I know, baby girl. I know. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You shudderred. “Please move!”

The first thrust was so intense you thought you were about to pass out, but all it was was a gentle movement. Your hands immediately moved back to the bed, clutching onto the sheets so tightly, you were ripping them from their tucked state. The second thrust felt just as good, and the third had your eyes rolling back. Soon enough, Primo had picked up the pace, rhythmic yet gentle movements that had your lungs gasping for air and your brain turn to mush. You, an educated and powerful woman, now lay a puddle of hormones and pleasure on your shared bed by the cock of a man significantly older than you.

The more he thrust, the more unbearable the feeling became. Your screams as an outlet to the sheer pleasure were not working anymore, and you’d now resorted to wrapping your teeth around the silk pillowcase that kept your head comfortable below you. Your back arched off the bed as much as it comfortably could, losing your mind even more now that his hips had picked up the pace. You were blissfully unaware of the way you looked, or how much you were making him suffer.

You were divine; a Goddess sent as a reward by Lucifer for all his hard work. Your body, carrying life that he’d helped create jiggling beneath him with the gentle force of his hips. Your thighs wobbling at the movements, your breasts, heavy, round and full, nice and plump and begging to be played with and sucked into his mouth. You always looked absolutely delicious, but right now you looked so tempting he almost wished you weren’t pregnant so he could fuck another baby into you this very moment. He released a deep, gutteral groan from your walls tightening around him after he’d told you that.

“Gonna keep pumping you full of kids, keep you knocked up as much as I can.” He continued. “You want that, fiorellina? You want me to keep fucking babies into you? Keep showing these fucks around the Ministry who you belong to?”

“Yes, Papa!” You screamed when you were finally able to release the pillow from your mouth.

His thumb came down to your clitoris and began rubbing circles in the tender bundle of nerves there, causing another scream to come out of you. “You can give me one more, can’t you?” He asked, his voice gentle and soothing.

You were almost sobbing. “No, Papa. I can’t.”

“Yes you can, fiorellina. Give me one more. Papa’s almost finished. One more.” He felt you tighten around him one more time as both his hand and his words tipped you over the edge. Your ears rang, your vision went white, your body tensed as he worked you through your second and final orgasm of the night. It felt as though you were exploding from the inside out, the feeling so powerful and incredible you could hardly breathe. All the while, despite the ringing, you could hear Primo in the distance somewhere talking you through it. “È tutto qui. That’s it, fiorellina. Breathe for me. Such a good girl for Papa. Cazzo! I’m gonna -”

Primo could barely finish his sentence before he stilled inside you, one final thrust that had him burying himself as deep as he could and emptying himself completely. Your sensitivity had you twitching each time he did, tightening involuntarily around him at each movement causing his orgasm to occur stronger than it usually did.

He pulled out and collapsed next to you, the room filled with nothing but your exhausted grunts and gasps for air at such an intense session. Eventually, when you were both strong enough, you made eye contact and laughed at each other despite nothing being funny. You wanted to move towards him and cuddle into him, but your body wasn’t responding the way you wanted it to today, so you settled for reaching for his hand.

Once you’d both calmed down, you began a conversation, filling the silence with more intimacy and sweetness as you still lay there recovering.

“Oh,” he said, remembering something important, “I will be home late tonight, fiorellina. My fratellini want an Uno night so I promised them I’d be there.”

“Good, it’s about time you got to spend some time with them. I know Papa Terzo has been down recently since they deposed him.”

“Sì. Thank you for understanding, amore mio.” He turned onto his side and cupped your opposite cheek, kissing the one closest to him. “Ti amo.”

“I love you, too.” You told him. “Now go tend to your garden. I need a nap. You’ve broken me.”

“Mi dispiace, fiorellina. Sleep well.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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klainelynch · 5 months ago

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Hey friend! So I’ve been listening to a bunch of your Royai podfics lately and I just love them. Its the best way to get my fic fix while also being a productive adult lol. I’m blown away with how professional and polished your stuff is! You definitely could be recording full blown audiobooks, if you aren’t already! (And if you are, I’d love to know where to find those!)

I’m intrigued by your whole process: how you pick stories, record, edit, etc. Choosing when and where to use tone inflection, pacing, all that. You can fully nerd out if you feel like it! I’m so curious. ☺️❤️

Ahhhh what a wonderful message to find in my inbox!! 🥰🥰🥰 I'm so happy that my podfics have become something that you listen to in your daily routine! I don't record audiobooks or do this in any kind of a professional sense, but I do try to emulate what I love of different audiobooks/professional productions and other peoples' podfics, so your compliment means the world to me!

I started with a very stream-of-consciousness response and have tried to cohere it into something readable. You said I could fully nerd out, so here's over 2k of me taking you up on that xD

Choosing a fic:

I tend to gravitate towards fics that have more narration as opposed to dialogue. I love being in a character's head and fully living in their world and the way they experience it. When I am reading dialogue, I don't try to sound exactly like the voice actor (if it's from a tv show or movie) or adopt their accent, but I do try to embody the character in my voice, if that makes sense. If there are too many characters with dialogue, this gets difficult for me, which is why many of my solo podfics have two or fewer characters who speak, or why I create multivoice podfics with fellow podficcers.

In my podfic spreadsheet, there are several pages dedicated to fics that I'd like to record someday. Most of them are under 1k, though I do have a few that are around 3k (which would be on the longer side for me). I jot notes to remember what each fic is/what I would like to do with it—some examples of what those sound like with fics I haven't recorded yet: Zuko asks how Iroh survived when Lu Ten died because of Izumi feels; Al reflecting on Royai rebuilding Isvhal, no dialogue; Roy takes Riza out on a date (cover art would be a theatre program); good angsty Edwin moment after the boys come home (could have thunder in background); Ghost!Roy as Riza carried on, will need to build to this level of angst; Abbott Elementary book fair *chef's kiss*; Roy announces he’s engaged to some mystery woman but PSYCHE HE’S ALREADY MARRIED TO RIZA.

I used to have a pretty even split of recording fics with blanket permission versus asking authors for permission, but these days, I tend to be too lazy to ask lol. Not saying that I won't do it, but when the mood strikes me to record, I need to know pretty quickly if I can complete the project, and a bp statement really helps with that!

Prep work:

When I first began podficcing, I would put the entire fic into a google doc. This let me annotate the script for every little thing (highlighting dialogue, typing out phonetic pronunciations of difficult names/words, and putting spaces in between sections of text to help with breath control being the most common). The more I podficced, the less I had to annotate, until all I would do with my scripts was put in the spaces. I want my breath to be consistent/unnoticeable, so I read with that in mind. Often you can use the punctuation as your guide, but sometimes there are long stretches with no punctuation, and I have to figure out how a sentence should be cut up to make its meaning clear.

I didn't make these scripts for any of my solo podfics during Voiceteam this past May, and I still felt comfortable recording, so I think I may be past needing this tool for the most part. I just need to read through the fic a few times and look up any potential pronunciation issues right before I record.

Recording the podfic:

My early podfics were recorded with the microphone attached to my earbuds, and you can definitely hear it in the quality 🙈🙉 I did at least use a makeshift pop filter, so that helped with my plosives from the beginning.

After a few months, I got a blue snowball mic, which makes the quality so much clearer, and even more so once I got a computer that can run Audacity (more on why I love this program later).

I currently record in my closet, which is a long wide shape, so the doors don't close all the way when I'm inside of it. I shut them as best as I can to prevent outside noises, and I stand as I record. I used to sit at my desk with a soundproofing box around my mic, but I found it hard to get good breaths for long periods of time, so now I stand. The tradeoff is that I have to be wearing good shoes if I'm recording more than thirty-ish minutes (which could happen if the podfic is ultimately longer than twelve or so minutes because…)

My raw audio is usually at least twice as long as the final product. I often record several takes for lines, sometimes if I mess up, but usually if I don't think I captured the emotional quality that I can hear in my head when I read the line with my eyes. Sometimes it takes up to ten times for a line to feel right; other times, an early take ends up being the best one.

The previous point touches on how I handle putting inflection into my voice. The other part of it is thinking through how the speaker would say a particular word/phrase. If it's narration, I've emotionally been with that speaker for the entire fic, so I lean into that; if it's dialogue, it might be someone new, so I have to switch my brain. Either way, I have to (consciously or unconsciously) think through: 1. how would I personally say this? 2. how would the character say this? 3. how would the audience want to hear this? 4. how would the meaning be most effectively heard? Often there is overlap in these questions, but not always. If there's a conflict between these, I try to remember that my audience is probably just listening with their ears, not simultaneously reading with their eyes, so I need to prioritize their being able to understand what is happening and why. That's why I try to affect my voice in different ways and not literally mumble or shout, even if the fic has the character doing that.

Since you mentioned my Royai podfics, I will mention one way I distinguish their voices depending on who the narrator is. When Roy is the narrator, any of his dialogue is in my normal voice, and Riza's dialogue becomes slightly higher and slower; when Riza is the narrator, her dialogue is in my normal voice, and Roy's dialogue becomes slightly lower and faster.

I put a lot of pressure on myself to nail the first and especially the last line of a fic, so I will record a good number of takes for those. It's only happened once that I loved the first take I did of a final line. Sometimes I annoy myself at how many takes I record, but I'm thankful for the choices when I'm editing, so this is simply how I do things!

The hardest part of recording for me is keeping my voice quality consistent. I drink a lot of water throughout the day, but even so, I get dry mouth as I record, and once you're at that point, drinking more water doesn't really help. Tricks like chewing gum or brushing my teeth right before recording help me out.

Editing the podfic:

This has actually become my favorite part of the process! It feels like a puzzle and a treasure hunt, trying to find the best ways to pick out the best parts of my performance and turn it into a final product.

When I started podficcing, I had a chromebook, so the only audio editing software available was free online websites. I don't even remember the ones I used, but they did most of the things I wanted, and they let me get my foot in the door. The problem was that they were limited in tools, such as…

Noise reduction is my favorite feature of Audacity, which is the software I currently use. If you go back and listen to my podfics chronologically, you can clearly tell when I started using it because the general crackle in the background disappears. I have no plans to delete old pods, but it is as painful for me to listen to them for this reason as it is to reread fics I wrote in high school lol

The first round of edits is picking out the best takes for each line. Sometimes that means listening to several takes over and over before I choose my favorite; occasionally, I splice together the first half of one take and the second half of another. I'm very proud when I can do this with a single word and you can't tell the difference at all. I laugh when it sounds like I've done this with a word, but actually I just read it weird and I have no other take to substitute it with xD

Something else I do in the first edits is take out excessive space between sentences and paragraphs. I basically reset my breath/voice after every segment (could be a sentence or part of a sentence) so there's always extra space. I tend to edit down to one to two seconds between sentences, two to three seconds between paragraphs, and four to five seconds between entire sections of a fic. Of course, there are always exceptions (a character feeling very emotional, especially angry or excited, will have faster sentences; dialogue is formatted in paragraphs but it is inflection rather than time that indicates to the audience that a new paragraph/speaker has begun; an emotional line might require more space to let the audience process it).

Once I have all of the words edited together, I will do a second round of edits for tightening up the pacing. I listen to the edit without looking at the text, keeping my hands busy with a video game or coloring. As I'm listening, if something feels too fast or too slow, I'll make edits in real time, back it up, and listen again. The reason I can't read and listen during this pass is because my eyes are expecting too much and I can't properly hear what the audience will hear. When I began podficcing, I thought I had enough space in between words and sentences, but when I would listen back, I realized that I had cut too much out and the podfic's speed was faster than I liked. Now I leave more space in during the first edit and do this pacing pass.

Once I'm happy with the narration, I save it as a narration only file. I love adding in music and effects when I can, but I'm sure there are some who would rather only listen to the narration, so I make this available for accessibility and preference reasons.

I will usually make a final version with music and/or sound effects. This is one area where I'm specifically trying to emulate professional audiobooks and how they use music under the opening credits before fading out as the story begins.

Finding music is its own kind of scavenger hunt. I prefer to use public domain or creative commons music because it feels more true to the collaborative/transformative spirit that podfics have for me, and the idea of a podfic being taken down for copyright reasons does make me nervous. ccmixter and Purple Planet have a lot of songs that I've used in the past. The former has literally thousands of songs, which can overwhelm me if I'm working on a deadline, so I will sometimes just listen to random tracks and download anything that might be helpful in the future. That being said, if a fic uses a song lyric as a title or the author mentions a song as inspiration, I will try to use that song as the music if possible. I'm especially proud of how I used "Wait for It" at the end of An Endless Uphill Climb.

I use sound effects far less frequently than music, but they are fun when there is a natural place for them. I love the Star Wars audiobooks, and they often use sound effects and music in a way that heightens the emotions in the listener. That is always my guiding star, though I will admit to sometimes using effects just because they make me happy!

Cover art:

Like music/sound effects, this part is totally optional, but I usually do it because I have a lot of fun with it! I make everything in Canva, and again, I try to use public domain or creative commons images. Openverse is my go-to search engine because they make it really easy to tell which images I'm allowed to use in what ways. Sometimes I have a vision and try to find images to match; other times I have no idea and just see what I can find, or I can't find what I had in mind and have to switch gears.

Random facts that I couldn't find a spot for:

I learned how to read for an audience by being a lector at mass (reading either something from the Old Testament or something from the New Testament, other than the Gospels) in a church with lots of marble, which explains why I read on the slow side. Had to leave room for the echo before I started speaking the next line!

I've actually found that my own fic writing became easier to read aloud once I started podficcing. That doesn't make it better or worse—there are beautiful passages in literature/fic that are easier to read with the eyes than with the ears. But it is definitely a thing.

Thank you again for sending this ask! I hope this peek behind the curtain was interesting to you, even if it was probably far more than you were asking for xD And another thank you for listening to my podfics—it really does mean so much to me that something I've made can brighten up your day 💖

#the-blue-eyed-firebender #my things #podfic

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mshroom1e · 2 years ago

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Hello! I'm here to request for The Wanderer! Hope it's not too specific.

So Scara's been kinda doubting himself lately so his s/o tries to cheer him up by leaving him food with little notes telling him how much they love him.

Hello! Thank you so much for your request! To be honest, I wasn't really sure what to do with the story for this one, so I tried to just go for a single short and sweet type of fic. I hope you enjoy!!

To the Heart | Wanderer x GN! Reader

type: fanfic

Summary: they say that the fastest way to the heart is through the stomach. It appears that the same can be said for people like The Wanderer as well.

1.2k words

Warning(s): none

Saying that food was your speciality was a complete understatement. You were proud of your cooking and took great pride in it. You always found a way to share your cooking with others, and your beloved, The Wanderer, was no exception.

He was snarky and sometimes a little mean, but you knew that it was just his way of showing that he cared. He never overstepped boundaries and kept the playful teasing and remarks to a minimum. However, it was very rare when you saw him without some form of humour or smile on his lips as if the thought of doing something to tease you crossed his mind. You could read between the lines and knew exactly what made him tick, even though it may look like that he didn’t care. In reality, he was prone to self-doubt.

You also learned that he often had nightmares about past events that occurred in his previous home. That fact alone was enough to make you feel guilty every night since you knew that those incidents were caused by one single person, but that person was most definitely not you. It just hurt that you couldn’t do anything to change the past, so there wasn't much that you could do except help him get better.

Lately, for the past week, you haven't been able to find the time to spend it properly with The Wanderer. In the little moments that you were able to be together during the day, you noticed he seemed a little down. You wondered if it was because of your regular, untimely absence or just his mind catching up with him. It wasn't the same without his snarky remarks and teasing you that almost always backfired on him. He wasn't being himself and it didn't take long for you to notice.

The first thing that crossed your mind was food. You saw the way his eyes lit up and sparkled whenever trying the dishes that you made during your travels together. He always gave a curt reply, briefly telling you that he enjoyed the food while avoiding your eyes, but you could see right through him. You knew it meant that he appreciated it.

So, here you stood in the kitchen of the Inn you and The Wanderer were staying at for the next couple of weeks. You asked the owner for permission to use it for cooking (with a bribe of one of your best dishes, of course). You decided to go for a simple Inazuman-styled lunch, something that would remind him of his first home. You knew about his past and how much sadness and regret he felt when it was brought up, but the fond, faraway look in his eyes only proved to you that the feelings associated with his home weren't fully negative.

You hoped you could bring back a new, wonderful feeling with your food. Something that would make him smile softly as he ate it, while shyly trying his best to give a sincere compliment.

And off you went, cooking up a storm.

Kuni woke up with sunlight gently kissing his sleepy eyes. From the looks of the position of the sun in the sky, it was about midmorning, the usual time he woke up. The gentle, savoury scent of rice, meat and vegetables flowed through the air.

When he arrived at the kitchen which was the primary source of the delicious smell in the air, he saw that you were nowhere to be found. On a table that stood at the centre of the room, there was a light blue lunchbox. Strangely, the pattern of the box matched the motif of his outfit, that alone earning his curiosity. He raised an eyebrow, partially scowling, hoping he wasn't wanting his time.

"Might as well..." He muttered to himself and stomped towards the box. His scowl remained as he opened the lid, not fully convinced it was left with the intention of being for him, but the lunchbox's design said otherwise.

He let his guard down, soon realising the lunchbox was from you. His eyes grew the tiniest bit more eager, but he still had an annoyed expression painted on his face.

Then, he opened it.

He felt his eyebrow twitch and his frown deepen when the first layer of the lunchbox was unleashed to be viewed by his eyes. A note. In your handwriting.

'Eat well, cutie. Meow.'

He blinked. Then he blinked again.

A wave of heat travelled up his neck and invaded his entire face. Of course, the note was from you. You were the only one who had the guts (and stupidity) to call him dumb, cutesy names like that. It irked him, especially how you managed to call him things like that so casually. To be completely honest, he kinda liked it. But still!! It was so- ugh...

He felt the dark cloud that plagued his mind clear up after reading the note. Your usual ridiculousness easing his tense face into a smile when he couldn't conceal with his usual smirk or scowl. Anticipation built up in his chest as he got closer to see what you made for him this time.

It was a cute, simple dish. A portion of rice shaped like a cat, which made the 'meow' on the note slightly less weird, but The Wanderer still thought that you were ridiculous for that. The cutely shaped serving of rice was surrounded by various spiced vegetables in the shape of flowers and slices of meat cut into hearts. Some of the cutting was a little clumsy, but it was clear that you gave it your best when putting it together.

When he started to eat, the flavours melted in his mouth. Even someone without a heart could feel the emotions and flavours that were all packed into that first bite.

He took another bite. Then another. And another. The bursts of flavour felt exactly like home. Not the home that abandoned him, but the home that he found with you. His mind welled up with emotions that he wasn't even sure he was able to feel anymore. Eyes glossed over, tears glazing over them and giving them an iridescent sheen. Feelings of sadness and self-loathing loathing being washed away by just a single gesture. Little did you know about the overwhelming impact that your actions had on the young puppet.

He didn't even realise he was crying until a drop of water fell on the smooth paper, causing the affected area to become a shade darker.

Usually, when you left him a meal like this, it was because you were too busy to make something with him during the day. Your work usually meant that you'd be away from The Wanderer for a few days, or only be available at odd hours in the morning. When you weren't busy, you would make something for him and yourself, chatting about your week while he watched you with adoring eyes but a frown on his face to veil the joy he spent from spending time with you.

#gn reader #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin scara #scara x reader #scaramouche #the wanderer #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader

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the-starry-seas · 14 days ago

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Fic Writer 20 Questions

Thanks for the tag @cookiemonsterv3!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 21 so far!

2. What's your A03 word count? 284,646

3. What fandoms do you write for? I'm pulling stats from just my Star Wars fic account but I write for whatever interests me at any given time.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? thinks in greys, loves in colours (894); giving (236); multicoloured moods of love (231); returning (200); and running with the wolves to get to you (195)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yeah I love to talk with people and thank them for commenting. maybe it'll make them more comment-y in the future LOL, god knows the state of fanfic writing is bleak enough these days.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angsties ending? I'd say walking in the rain, which is a short fic about Boba asking about Jango's armour's paint job and the conversation getting angsty. as many conversations do, with Jango!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? hmmm I'm not sure, actually! maybe running with the wolves to get to you, since that ends with Jango being more confident and affectionate.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I got one comment accusing me of undermining marriage equality struggles by tagging a fic 'platonic marriage'. because, y'know, it was a fic where friends got married. platonically. I'm sure they meant it insultingly but it was such a stupid thing to say that I just laughed it off.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? sort of, occasionally. I don't really know what kind, it's just whatever's comes to mind.

10. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written? yeah I love crossovers of all kinds! the main one I've got in mind is a Pacific Rim/Clone Wars one that I'm gonna start posting in December. and I have a Borderlands/Clone Wars ship that I've never written for but is near and dear to my heart. there's also a partially outlined Bioshock/Mandalorian fusion. I also have some ideas for a Borderlands/Murderbot and a Star Wars/Murderbot crossover. at the moment I can't think of anything else but there's probably something else in my WIP folder.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I found one of my fics reposted on some knockoff AO3 site but it still linked to my profile and everything so I left them alone. I also had someone steal my play-by-post roleplay characters.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? someone asked me once if they could, but I never heard back from them. I have blanket permission to translate my stuff, so maybe someone did and just never told me, who knows?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope and I'm not interested in doing so.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI? thinks in greys, loves in colours was a really fun soulmate janogbi AU but I felt like I was writing Jango really OOC in some parts so I lost interest in finishing it. considering the massive amounts of rewriting it would take to get it to my liking, I'll probably leave it abandoned.

16. What are your writing strengths? I get a lot of compliments on characterisation and scene descriptions, which I agree with! also I think I'm pretty good at writing multifaceted NPCs that feel real, even when they're only in one or two scenes.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I feel like I just don't have a handle on writing romantic or sexual focuses. aroace and all that. which is kind of funny because I've gotten a lot of compliments on those aspects of my writing, too!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don't mind it but I do find it kind of. annoying? because there's never translations in the text and I usually have to scroll down to the end of the fic to see the translation in the author's notes. I don't mind so much when the translation is in the beginning.

19. First fandom you wrote for? uhhh I'm pretty sure it was MCU but that was a decade ago and I simply don't remember.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? that would be Clever Girl, which is a TMNT fic, but since I pulled my numbers and such from Star Wars, my favourite SW fic is ghosts have voices! it's a codywan AU that I wrote for an autumn-themed big bang two years ago where Obi-Wan is getting hunted by an Annihilation-esque bear (and also some ghosts).

tagging @loverboy-havocboy @mereelskirata @merlyn-bane @sithfox and whoever else wants to do it!

#ask game answer

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bacarasbabe · 1 year ago

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Hello hello my love, may I please ask about 21, 73 and 76? x

Hello my beloved 💕 I'm so sorry for the late response. I've started answering you multiple times but irl things kept getting in the way and I took a small break from here! Really, I just wanted to give you a serious answer that I took my time with instead of something rushed and not very well thought out. I hope you can forgive me darling.

21 - Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

I don't have very many chaptered fics but as I've been growing and evolving in my writing style I think I've begun to gravitate towords chaptered fics. I find a lot of joy in developing plotlines and characters through multiple chapters. It's an interesting and fun challenge to face, but one-shots will always hold a special place in my heart.

73 - What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing?

Hmm, this was interesting to disect but I think I get complemented on my aestetics the most lol.

76 - How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

Fyi, I've written the response to this question like five different times now. I think I've settled on an okay respose, but I wanted to take the time to get this right. I know so many fic writers and creators deal with stress, and not all of us come out the other side as creators still. While I'm unsure if my insights will be helpful to you, I hope you can find something valuable in my perspective.

(Full answer under the cut bc it's long.)

We've previously discussed the unique frustrations that fic writers face, particularly on this website. The constant barrage of anonymous asks, only inquiring about more content or the release date of the next chapter, the likes without comments or reblogs, and the limited interactions can wear you down over time. I know that I've felt the weight of these pressures and so have so many countless others. There are numerous other aspects I could complain about, but I am actively working on letting go and trying to move past these things.

It can be difficult when, at one point, fic writing felt like an avenue to engage in commentary, discussions, and the social aspects of the community, rather than merely producing content for others to enjoy. The stress and perceived pressure to consistently create began to erode my love for writing, prompting me to step away. I needed to distance myself from everything, and surprisingly, it turned out to be a positive decision. During my break, I created a side blog using a completely different email address, allowing me to enjoy things without feeling the need to hold myself to any standards or obligations. I granted myself permission to consume instead of constantly create, and to enjoy without worry. Taking that break was a significant step for me, enabling me to establish boundaries, which was exactly what I needed. I realized I had been giving too much, rushing through writing instead of savoring the process.

Now, with a story that I hold dear to my heart, I find myself in a place where I can dedicate myself to it and genuinely enjoy the journey. I am completing the story for myself because I genuinely want to, without the burden of writing other fics or constantly trying to entertain followers. Even with this mindset, I must admit that I don't have a comprehensive answer for you. After being away for over a year, gaining a fresh perspective on things helped immensely. Additionally, the words of a cherished mutual we share had a profound impact on me. They expressed, in their own way, that my fics are already complete the moment I posted them. Regardless of any future chapters promised. It's perfectly acceptable if I never post an ending because the audience is not entitled to one.

Dealing with writing pressure, whether it stems from internal expectations or external demands, requires a conscious effort to set boundaries and prioritize personal enjoyment and fulfillment. Taking breaks, gaining perspective, and finding solace in the fact that your creations are already complete can all contribute to a healthier and more enjoyable writing experience. Remember, your writing journey should ultimately be driven by your own passion and desire, rather than solely catering to the expectations of others. I know that this is easier said than done. I know. But hopefully you can take a piece of this and apply it to your own stess.

#fanfic asks

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falcqns · 3 years ago

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𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞)

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Henry Cavill x little!actress!Reader

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a snowstorm helps you grow closer to your co star in a way you never thought it would.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: beginning of a CG/L relationship, fluff, brief mention of H*yley A*well (just her name and then that's it), mention of Steve Rogers (again, just his name), mentions of storms!

✰ 𝐚/𝐧: thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy!! tagging @inlovewithhisblueeyes and @uhmellamoanna because i love them both dearly and they were really excited for this!! divider is by @firefly-graphics! also thanks to Freya Allan for talking about how supportive Henry is of her and how he encouraged her because it helped inspire this as well 😭

to who ever reads this: don't bother asking for a part two, you won't get it. i am the owner of this fic, and this blog, and I, and only I, will decided what fic gets a part two and when. respect me and my wishes or get off my blog. thanks!

don't forget to read and reblog, and i do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere other than tumblr. thank you.

the first time you saw Henry, you couldn't speak to him. you were on set of Mission: Impossible 8, and you were filming a scene with Michelle when he walked on set with Tom. you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but refocused on the director to finish the scene.

the scene was finished a while later, and you were summoned over to Tom, who introduced you to Henry. you smiled shyly at him, at his head tilted to the side, clearly searching your face for something. he seemed to find it moments later, and he smirked, before smiling and complimenting you. before you could respond, however, Henry was pulled away a moment later by the costume designer.

"don't worry," Tom had said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders like he always did. "you'll get more one on one time with him later. he's just popular today."

turns out, Tom was right. the next week was your first scene with him, and you were practically shaking with nerves. you were supposed to run up to Henry and jump into his arms, and even thought Henry had assured you that you could give it your all, but he could tell you were holding back.

MacQuarrie yelled for a 20 minute break, and you barely had time to register that, before Henry was pulling you aside.

"is everything okay?" he asked, concerned. "you know i can take you jumping, right?"

you nodded, swallowing, eyes locked on the ground.

"hey," he said, his finger resting under your chin and tilting it up towards him. "what's going on?" he asked.

you shrugged, your chin wobbling slightly. "just nervous, i guess." you said, blinking rapidly to dissipate the tears.

"why?" he asked, his hand resting on the side of his face.

you sniffled before speaking. "this is my first acting job, a-and i just don't wanna mess it up." you admitted. Henry grasped your hand and brought you over to where your chairs were, and the two of you sat.

"starting out in this business is a scary thing," he said, a soft and caring look on his face. "it's a harsh and unforgiving business, but you can make it." he encouraged. "the amount of talent you have is astounding to me. not many people get a first role in a movie like Mission Impossible."

"y-yeah, that's what Tom said when he told me i got the role."

"most people also don't get the role moments after the initial audition, you know that right?" he asked, a smile on his face. you chewed on the inside of your lip, and nodded. "that shows just how much talent you have. you don't have to be nervous around me."

"i know, it's just-" you began, but stopped and looked down. "its just scary, acting with you." you said. "you're a much more experienced actor, and its a little intimidating."

Henry smiled and leaned in closer. "i understand. i felt the same way. my first movie was Hotel Laguna, and i remember being so terrified of acting with Joe Mantegna, but the more we filmed the easier it became."

you nodded, feeling much better after your conversation.

"everything will be fine, i promise." he said. "now jump into my damn arms or i will tickle you." he said, poking your side as MacQuarrie called the two of you back. you giggled, and walked away, missing the way he gazed at you, closing his eyes and shaking his head in a silent laugh.

"CUT!" MacQuarrie called, and you released Hayley from the choke hold, and walked over to where Henry was holding your phone and water bottle.

"can i put you in a white wig and make you do all my fight scenes on The Witcher?" he said, jokingly, and handed you your water.

you giggled, and smacked his arm, chugging the water. "as long as i get to wear that ab armor." you said. "i just wanna know what Geralt was thinking with that."

Henry threw his head back and laughed. "we had a whole scene where he found another Witchers armor in the armory and decided to use it."

you raised an eyebrow at him. "out of all the armor he could have chosen, he chose AB ARMOR?" you said jokingly. "he was just trying to show off to Ciri and up play how dangerous being a Witcher is."

"hey!" Henry exclaimed, tapping you on the nose. "being a Witcher is dangerous and scary!"

you cackled. "mhm, sure it is. keep telling yourself that."

Henry was about to respond, but Tom called for everyone's attention."

"due to some inclement weather approaching, we have made the decision to halt production until it passes. if you live close, you are welcome to go home, but we have booked out a few hotels for those who cant or don't want to." he said, and continued to explain, but you and Henry blocked it out when your assistants approached with room keys.

"what room are you?" Henry asked, looking at your card.

"210. you?"

"211."

"fuck, yeah." you said before Henry flicked your ear.

"language,"

"who are you? Steve Rogers?"

"don't say his name."

a few hours later, you were trembling from fear.

you and Henry had conjoining rooms, and he had come into yours an hour earlier, proclaiming that he was going to sleep, but to wake him up if you needed anything at all. you agreed, and gave him a smile as he left back through the door.

you grabbed your stuffy, weighted blanket, and paci from your duffel, and climbed into bed, trying to block out the loud wind noises. you stuffed your paci in your mouth, and began to suckle on it as you crawled under the blanket and cuddling your stuffy, and you could feel yourself slipping.

you let it happen, and sighed in happiness when you felt more calm, letting the stress of the day melt away from your body.

it worked for a while.

20 minutes, maybe?

and then the wind picked up again. your eyes were squeezed shut, when the loudest gust of wind hit the building with a thud, and you jumped, falling out of bed and onto the floor.

your knees hit the ground first, and you instantly burst into tears, pain shooting through your legs. another gust of wind hit the building, and you sobbed louder, pushing your body back into the corner between the window and the wall.

you wrapped your arms around your body and began to rock as Henry burst through the conjoining door.

"y/n?" he called, looking for you. "i heard your crying, are you okay?"

you sobbed again, not out of fear, but out of shame. you had your stuffy on your bed, and a paci in your mouth. there was no hiding this, especially since he was moving nearer you, having finally spotted where you were.

"hey, what's going on?" he asked, crouching down and rubbing your shoulder. you calmed down when he touched you, and laid your head to the side, resting it onto his arm.

you gasped silently when he pressed your paci, pushing it back into your mouth.

"did the wind scare you, sweet girl?" he asked in a soothing voice, his thick accent soothing you.

you nodded, and whimpered. you wanted to suck your paci, but you didn't want to draw more attention to it. Henry stood up, and bent back down, he placed his hands under your armpits, and lifted you up.

you sniffled again as he settled you on his hip. "shhhh, little one." he whispered as he walked around the room, calming you down. he saw you tense whenever he went near the window, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

he placed you back on the floor, and turned to close the curtains. he could hear you crying out in distress, wanting to be lifted again. he shut the curtains, and turned back, smiling when he saw you with your arms up, bouncing and waiting for him to lift you again.

he did just that, and carried you over to the bed. he laid him and you down, and pulled your stuffy and blanket closer. he wrapped the bed comforter around the two of you, and then the weighted blanket on top of that. you continued to squirm, and tug at his shirt. he didn't know exactly what you needed, but he also knew that something was wrong, and you weren't comfortable.

"are you hungry, baby girl?" he got a head shake in return.

"do you need to go potty?" another head shake, and another tug at his shirt. "what are you trying to tell me, sweet heart?" he said to himself, and sat up briefly, tugging his shirt off and throwing it off the bed.

"do you want yours off, too?" he asked, seeing you tug on your own shirt, giving him frustrated suckles at your paci. you nodded, blinking slowly, and he tugged it off as well. you sighed as you laid down on his bare chest, feeling Henry's fingers trail up and down your spine.

another kiss was pressed to your head as you drifted off, Henry's eyes locked on your face.

"i told you everything would be fine, didn't i?" he commented. "i love you."

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x reader fluff #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader smut #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x little!reader #daddy!henry cavill x little!reader #daddy!henry #daddy!henry cavill

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years ago

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Healing

pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: TW - sexual assault, rape, objectification and implications of abuse, smut, consensual sex, azriel is a sweetie and rhys is a good bestie

a/n: first of all PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! i’m really proud of this fic but I don’t want to trigger or upset anyone, that being said it isn’t too graphic but still. Anyway I hope u enjoy, this took me three days lmao <333

based on: this and this

—————————————————————————-

You had your first less than savoury encounter with men when you had barely turned nine. Your body still hadn’t finished forming, but you were growing, and your body was gaining some semblance of shape as you did. It wasn’t much – just a whistle from across the street – but for a second your heart seized up with fear, and in the next you almost felt giddy. A man thought you were beautiful.

You felt like a princess that day – felt the way you had when the boy from your class had kissed your cheek, still too young to process the intentions behind that single whistle. But you didn’t care – someone wanted you.

When you got your first period at twelve – even more changed. Your body felt new, and you didn’t feel comfortable in the changes. Your old clothes didn’t fit and now your mother forced you into tighter corsets for those long, long dinners you had to attend. Your parents were respected Fae in the Hewn City – nobles who liked to drink and smoke and throw extravagant balls. And with your new body you could no longer simply hide in the corner or climb through secret passages with your friends – muddying your dresses.

Now you had to smile when men hugged you slightly too long, laugh when they commented on how much you had grown up, sit pretty and pristine with an old mans hand loitering to close to your rear for hours as you watched your parents drink away their troubles.

By the time you were fifteen you were used to the constant attention, your beauty not uncommon where you lived but still doted on often. Unaware of their desire for your youth, your naivety. The women never offering a helping hand but instead glaring down high skewed noses as their husbands slurred into your ears – still in shock that a pretty, young thing like you was all alone at this party.

When you were sixteen you decided to change that – kissing an alright looking boy at a party and telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he would kiss you back. He stayed when you didn’t protest as he pulled you to the bathroom and pushed you to your knees. And for this small request, the greasy hands on your body at balls and dinners or any other social gathering halved – now only the truly self-righteous felt they could touch you still.

The only problem was you truly did love the boy you had chosen. He had faults yes, but he was kind – he brought you flowers and kissed your cheek. But he also spoke over you, forced you into silence and took what he wanted. And he always wanted the same thing.

If anything it was his father’s fault. The military commander never leaving room for debate when he argues with his wife – and sons only become what they see in their fathers.

Your father had left with a younger woman a few months after your fourteenth birthday, and you hadn’t seen him since – only heard stories of him galivanting around the autumn court from your classmates. You could see the distaste your mum held you in as she realised she would have to stick around to look after you, not yet old enough to be married. Then Amarantha had taken hold of the country and that possibility had been thrown out the window anyway.

Weirdly enough not that much changed in your life when she took power, the only major difference was that now you had to block out screams before going to sleep and even they had become like white noise. You still drank with your friends on Friday nights, went out with your boyfriend on Saturdays and slept the pain away on Sundays. Your weekdays consisted of school, dinners, balls and whatever more your mother could throw together to appease the high queen.

That and the high lord of the night court had started making appearances at the events your mother threw. He was a cruel man standing so proudly at the queen’s side – but you saw something flickering in his eyes whenever people spoke, complimenting his power and rule. You saw what you felt as you laughed at compliments and lingering touches – you saw pain, but more importantly you saw anger. And right now you could use anger.

During one ball you watched him leave, taking an odd route – not the one that would help him escape the loud music but instead a long winding corridor leading to a series of smaller rooms. Without thought you peeled away from your company, muttering excuses and went after him – grabbing a bottle of wine as you did.

You found him reclining in an empty room and knocked on the door gently. He cracked open an eye – slow like a cat – and beckoned you in. You moved to perch next to him, leaning back with a straight back and letting your head loll slightly as you took a swig of the dark red wine, before passing him the bottle.

“You looked like you could use a drink,” you smiled, eyes focused on his sharp jaw as he held the bottle to his mouth with a laugh.

“One way of putting it,” he smiled. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes as you took in his beauty, his looks plus mannerisms all made him seem like a wild cat - a panther trapped underground.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked, and you raised a hand to trace that sharp jaw. But instead of devouring you as any lesser man would’ve, he brushed your hand away and held it tightly in his larger one. “That’s not gonna happen, you’re what sixteen?”

“Almost seventeen,” you said, cheekily. He laughed but shook his head, squeezing your hand before releasing it.

“You’re still a child,” he said matter-of-factly, and you scoffed, stealing your wine back to drink again.

“Yeah well that’s usually a selling point,” your voice was sad, but you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his – refusing to show fear, “And you’re so nice to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He laughed as you pouted, “You practice this in the mirror or something?”

“Usually works in three seconds,” you confess, and he whistles under his breath, “Men are rather easy to manipulate when they’ve been trying to get into your skirts since your first bleed.”

“And you wonder why I’m not about to take advantage of you,” he laughed, and you smiled – a real smile, or real enough. “Plus I don’t think your little boyfriend would be pleased.”

“Eh, he’s never pleased - I don’t think this could make him worse.” Rhysand took the wine back and frowned.

“Does he hurt you?” his voice was sincere but the laugh you let out was not.

“Don’t all men,” he swore, and you laughed again, “Yet you foil my plan to make you fall in love with me and whisk me away to the moon.”

He laughed, but his eyes darkened with deep sadness you were sure you would never understand, “I think we both no that even I could not do that, but I might be able to crush your fly.”

“Little boyfriend? Fly? You really don’t like him do you?” you laughed, head lighter already.

“I don’t like any man who thinks they can hurt women,” he said, frowning when he realised through your passing back and forth there was no wine left.

“Shit that took us like five minutes,” you complained, and he laughed, waving his hand lightly as several more bottles appeared before you – you grinned as you grabbed another.

“So any friends with weaker moral backbones that I could marry?” you asked with a laugh, and he smiled at you.

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he leaned back again. You smiled – finally happy that one night might pass in the company of a decent man.

Soon, you’d find it would be more than one night, a close friendship quickly blossoming between you and the high lord. All your friends were convinced you were sleeping together but true to his word he didn’t touch you, and by the time you surpassed the age of eighteen you didn’t want him to. But that didn’t stop other men.

After a particularly bad argument with your boyfriend that had left you with a handprint on your left cheek you had broken up with him – sending away his apologies and flowers, smart enough to see he didn’t hold the mental capacity to change.

Plus you were beautiful and young, you could certainly do better. And you soon did – rich men who liked to buy you jewellery, and fine clothes, men who enjoyed literature and art and spending time with you.

And at the start of each relationship, for a few blissful seconds you would believe in their pure intentions. But then a hand would drift from your lower back to your ass, or the gentle kiss that followed a necklace would shift from your mouth to your breasts. Not one of them wanted to wait until you were comfortable, so you made yourself comfortable.

You pictured pretty, strong men were holding you down and making you feel something, slipping your own hand between your legs and they penetrated you to try and replicate what you were sure a lover’s touch must feel like. And as always – after the first time- they stopped asking for permission, you were their toy, so you no longer had choice over that part of yourself.

But through nice guys and bad boys, for fifty years you had Rhysand who was a friend – who treated you with respect and finally let you talk, let you breathe.

In the end he was the one who found you, in the backroom of a party – drunk and undressed. You were weeping, curled in a ball with your attackers’ seed dripping out of you, bruises decorating your bare skin. When he turned you over with his comforting hands he found your nose dripping red and the vibrant lipstick you wore smudged.

He helped you sit up and redress, took you home and stood outside the bathroom while you scrubbed yourself clean in scalding water – still unsteady on your feet. You changed into a nightgown silently and neither of you said a word when you crawled into bed next to each other, crying in your best friends’ arms as he tried to console you.

When you woke up, he was gone with just a scribbled message about Amarantha and the name of a healer he trusted. But you just placed it back down, turning onto your back and staring at the ceiling as hot tears ran into your hairline.

You barely ate anything for the days following your assault – fighting with your mother more when you rarely saw her and subsequently breaking it off with your current boyfriend. You had thrown his hands off you when he tried to touch you and the screaming match that followed ended your relationship.

Your bond with Rhysand grew only closer however as you spent nights drinking in candlelight, talking about anything and everything until you were sure he knew every inch of your soul and you his.

“You know what I’m going to do as soon as she’s gone,” you whispered one night as you stared at the twinkling lights you had hung on your bedroom roof to imitate stars.

“What?” Rhys had asked, never letting his eyes leave the ‘stars’ which he had laughed at and then proceeded to rearrange to make them more accurate. To which you threw a pillow at his head.

“Find a hill, or a pier, or a large pit or anything and scream into it until my throat bleeds.” You said and he laughed, the bed beneath you rumbling.

“Consider me on board.” He joked as you sat up to perch at your vanity – smudging the sharp eyeliner you wore with a small brush and applying some red lipstick.

“Wanna go out?” you asked him, and he sat up to with a small, sad smile.

“Can’t.” you understood his implication and frowned.

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gutted me yet,” you tried to lighten the mood, but his face darkened slightly when he joked back.

“Oh she wants to, I’m telling her any information you give me about citizens, so she doesn’t.” He said, ruffling your hair as he stood to leave.

“That’s fair, I’ll keep an ear out,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently before he left.

Things changed when Feyre Archeron appeared, you saw the way your friend watched her and realised you might be competing for his attention soon, but you were happy for him. Until he brought her to that first party – drugged and barely dressed. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you pushed down memories of yourself in such a similar position, and while you knew he would never hurt her – he was still a man. And you were foolish to believe for all those years that he was a man who would realise this was wrong.

Making polite excuses you left the party, picking up the tails of your dress as you all but raced home – ditching the dress and closing the blinds tightly as you made yourself food in your underwear. The sick feeling in your throat spreading through your chest and stomach as you ate, abandoning your meal halfway for a book and large sweater. And when he knocked on your door that night, desperate to tell you all about her – all about the human girl who he was sure could be his mate, you pretended to be asleep.

You barely spoke to him the whole time she was there, unable to look him in the eyes when she was so clearly out of it – and the feeling only grew when the next morning she would have all eyes on her. You understood that feeling. You instead spent parties flirting with Tarquin, the young high lord who was only a few years your senior or warding off marriage invitations with laughs and carefully placed words.

Rhys would sometimes catch your eyes – furrowing his eyebrows at you when you avoided his gaze, the sick feeling never really leaving. But it wasn’t until you watched Tamlin slay Amarantha with a smile that he tried to speak to you again. Feyre was Fae and leaving with her betrothed and Rhysand had just confirmed they were mates – and never had he needed his best friend quiet like he did now.

You were sitting when he found you, head in your palms and blood dusting the skirts of your dress. You had been sitting near Amarantha when it happened. You looked up when he neared, smiling sadly as he sat next to you.

“Want to go home?” he asked you quietly and you scoffed, standing, and moving to leave quickly. He followed after you, grabbing your arm as you wrenched it out of his grip with more ferocity than he had ever seen from you.

“Don’t touch me,” he held his hands up, backing away to give you space as you got your breathing under control.

“What did I do?” he asked – smart enough to not presume anything.

“How could you think it was okay, after what happened?” your voice was quiet again, and so sad.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he implored, stepping slightly closer again. You raised your eyes to meet his and he understood, the darkness you carried in your eyes shining through – the memories that resurfaced in those dark moments. “I’m sorry, let me explain please.”

You let him hold your arm softly as he winnowed the two of you to your house where you sat down heavy and tired.

“I did it because she needed out of that cell, but I saw what they did to you and you’re a fae woman, she’s… she was human. So it meant that no one else would touch her.” He tried to explain, “And she wouldn’t want to remember.”

“That’s a horrible thing to do Rhys.” You stated and he hung his head low, “How in anyway was that helping her, to get her out you could’ve snuck her here or just take her to a ball and let her dress normally.”

“I’m sorry, I just knew this would’ve been the safest option,” he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it like he did all those years ago, “It’s over, we can go home.”

“I am home,” you laughed bitterly, gesturing to your house.

“No, you’re coming out of this city – we’re putting it behind us.” He stood and held out a hand.

“I know you’re trying to be dramatic and all, but I have to pack – and think.” You said and he laughed.

“Take your time,” he said, sitting back to wait for you, “And I know it might take you a while to forgive me, but I’ll wait.”

You had left soon after, as he revealed his city to you. Winnowing to a house where two beautiful women stood at the door, strong winged men appearing next to them almost instantly – all sharing the same tear-eyed look. Well, all asides from a short, dark-haired woman who simply smiled.

The men you presumed were Azriel and Cassian barrelled towards Rhysand, attacking him in the most violent hug you had ever witnessed. Mor followed soon after and Amren simply offered him a curt nod, to which he bowed slightly with a cheeky smile.

Cassian turned to look at you and everyone followed suit, you straightened up – not wanting to cower under their gazes.

“And this, this is (y/n).” Rhysand said, placing a hand on your elbow, “She’s the only reason I survived under the mountain.”

You smiled at him, annoyed still – but you still held so much love for him in your heart. You looked away when Cassian approached and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly.

When he released you he looked you dead in the eye, “I am forever in your service.”

“Cassian let go of the poor girl,” Mor exclaimed behind him, and you giggled, looking to Rhys for support.

“Forgot to tell you he’s a hugger,” he shrugged, and you shoved his shoulder.

“Oh did you!” you laughed.

“Gotta get used to it, you’re part of the team now,” Cassian slung an arm around your shoulder as he guided you inside, “which means lots of hugs and long talks about emotions.”

“Don’t steal my best friend Cassian,” Rhys jabbed at his brother as you all moved to sit inside around a long table.

“He already had I’m afraid, can’t reverse love like ours,” you joined in, patting Cassian’s hand as he punched the air in victory, Rhysand feigning pain as he dramatically collapsed into his chair – a hand over his heart.

When you were finally seated you caught Azriel’s gaze, his eyes locked on you – having watched you interact with his family for less than five minutes and already completely enamoured. You smiled softly when you caught his gaze and he grinned at you, no words passing.

Later that evening – after too many drinks, you found yourself alone on a balcony you found, drinking in the fresh air greedily after all those years underground. You didn’t realise he was there until he was next to you – silent on his feet, his shadows a cool chill passing over your shoulders.

You tilted your head to look at him, in awe of his beauty. Not even Rhysand had awed you as much as this man was, his beauty unparalleled by anyone you had met before. He turned his gaze down to you as well, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you as he watched you move with such elegant curiosity.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced,” you smiled, lifting your hand delicately, “I’m (y/n).”

He met your hand halfway, lifting it to his mouth with perfectly poised and trained grace. “Azriel,” his voice was deep, gruff – and sent chills through you quickly. But when he moved your hand from his mouth you held on, the sparks flowing through you telling you all you needed to know. He similarly made no move to let go.

“Are we? I don’t really know how any of this works,” you laughed nervously but he smiled so warmly and tugged you slightly closer to him with the hand you were still clutching.

“You’re my mate princess,” he said, voice rough from disuse. You smiled widely, eyes forming tears as your gaze never strayed from him – finally getting one person who would truly love you, not your body – but you. He tugged your hand gently and you followed him inside, smiling and love drunk.

“We should probably go to the house of wind,” his voice was quiet as you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“Me and Cassian have to share a room here, the bed are singles.” You smiled and laughed – irrevocably happy.

“Yeah maybe not,” you said, and he held your hand softly as he walked you to the front door, passed his past out friends, Rhys cracking an eye open when you walked past him, and you turned when he tugged your skirt gently.

You okay? He asked in your mind, and you smiled at him.

I’m perfect, why? You replied as he closed his eyes again, clearly too tired to hold them open - Azriel moving to retrieve your coats.

Just don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not ready for, Azriel is understanding he won’t get angry. A sort of cold feeling settled on your shoulders when you realised why Azriel wanted that extra privacy.

Shit forgot I had to do that you joked but Rhysand felt the stress growing, however before he could reply Azriel was by your side again and you were waving him goodbye, your smile tight lipped.

Honestly, you trusted Rhysand when he said that Azriel would understand – but so far you had yet to meet a man who truly respected the boundaries you set, a man who would truly wait. Azriel met your eyes in silent questions before scooping you into his arms, flying high above the house as you squealed in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck, and shutting your eyes tightly as you soared above the vibrant city.

He felt you tense as you neared the house, swooping lower in order to land on the large balcony attached to his room. He placed you on shaky legs gently and looked down to smile at you again – heart so full of love and peace.

Not only was his brother returned to him in one piece, but along beside him came you. His mate. His mate.

You caught his gaze and gave him a tight-lipped smile, terrified for history to repeat itself. You wanted to talk to him and know him – you didn’t want him to learn to love your body instead of you. And you were truly afraid to be touched again, you hadn’t been with a man since you were raped – fear stopping you before they could get close and walls slamming up if they tried.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice was dripping with concern – genuine concern, and the way he said it made tears well up in your eyes. His own instantly widened as he sensed the sadness and fear rolling of you in waves, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sobbed into his chest. “Oh sweetheart we don’t have to do anything, c’mon lets go sit down.”

He guided you through the glass doors and sat you down gently on the bed, holding you gently and coaxing you through your breakdown. Once your breathing had calmed slightly and you had pulled out of his embrace, wiping your tears harshly with the butt of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly, terrified to anger your mate when you’ve only just found him.

“It’s okay darling, what’s wrong – did I do something? You’re not terrified of heights are you?” he asked, and you laughed softly, a smile growing on his face as his worries eased slightly.

“No, that was fun,” he grabbed your hand in his scarred ones and you gripped it tightly.

“Then what was it?” you looked into those beautiful, worried eyes and let out an exhale – bottom lip quivering.

“I just don’t think I can – I can’t do that tonight.” You whispered the words lowly, afraid of his reaction as you clung like a child to his hand.

“Hey, that’s okay – we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready,” he smiled, worries easing. You still wanted to be with him, just not in that way yet – and he could wait. He would wait a million years if you asked.

“Even if I’m not ready for a while?” You asked, and he held your face in his hands gently – looking into your tear-filled, defeated eyes.

“I would wait forever and then some – I have already waited so long to meet you, I’m sure I can last longer, especially if you’re next to me.” Your smile was so sad when you met his eyes.

“I’ve been told that before,” Azriel just pulled you closer to him with a cheeky grin.

“And were any of them your mate?”

“No,” you smiled at him again and he thought his heart was going to combust.

“Well then, I love to prove people wrong.” You buried your head into his chest as his arms came around you once more, “Would you like to sleep here, or would you like your own room?”

“Here is fine, I like the way you make me feel,” you said quietly, tugging on the bond experimentally. Azriel just smiled and tugged back.

“That works for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He moved to stand but you stopped him – tugging on the dress shirt he wore.

“I want this,” you grinned cheekily up at him, and he laughed, but undid the buttons and pulled it off anyway – turning around to let you change in peace. When he turned back around you were looking up at him with wide eyes – looking impossibly cute in his shirt.

“It has holes in the back,” you complained, and he laughed, sitting down to tug off his trousers before sliding under the covers as you scrambled to lay in his arms.

“Well I do have wings,” he cemented his point by letting one drape over your shoulders as you sighed in content.

“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned quietly, burrowed deep under his arms and the covers. His chest rumbled with the silent laugh as he pressed a kiss into your hairline.

The next morning he awoke to you laying on his chest, tracing the scars on the backs of his hands with a delicately pointed finger. He stared in wonder, and you must have felt his gaze because you turned your head to meet his eyes, face still puffy from sleep. As you whispered to him that morning, your chin resting on his chest as you gazed up at him until he rose to get your morning drinks. Barely daring to leave for more than a few seconds. And when he returned he was so glad he did – welcoming the sight of you curled up under his sheets with a shy smile and tired eyes.

“Do we have to do anything today?” you asked as you sipped your drink slowly, Azriel’s’ arm tight and secure around your waist.

“Nope,” he said, delighted at the prospect, “I just want to be with you and my family.”

“Sounds heavenly.”

True to his word, for the next few weeks that past, you and Azriel didn’t progress past slow, occasional kisses and lingering touches. But before either of those he was always searching your eyes – asking permission. And you truly fell in love with him during those weeks.

He was caring and consistent – never promising anything he couldn’t bring. And he cared for you, he cared for you past your body and looks. He wanted to be with you for an eternity.

One night, while you lay together, speaking lowly and listening to the rain fall outside your room – a glass door cracked open, you decided you were ready. You pressed closer to him, your lips meeting his own in a kiss more passionate than you had previously shared.

He followed your lead with just as much passion, but when you crawled into his lap he pulled away slightly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you,” he asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your hips.

“I’m sure, I love you and I want to be with you.” You told him sincerely, “But I haven’t been with anyone in a few years so I’m a little out of practice.”

You giggled nervously but he furrowed his eyebrows, “But you told me about your boyfriends?”

“Yeah but I – stopped dating about five years ago.” You tried to explain quickly, old nerves being brought up, but Azriel pulled you closer and as always his touch calmed you.

“Can I ask why?” he watched you drop your head a little as you breathed slowly – determined to not let your fear rise, you would probably end up telling him anyway so you might as well get it over with.

“I was raped.” You stated and his grip on your hips tightened slightly as he swore.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he started but you stopped him with a sharp glaze.

“You don’t need to apologise, it happened and it’s over now.” He could practically feel you pull away, so he loosened his grip on your hips and instead brought his arms up to hold you against his chest.

“Who did it?” he asked, voice dark and dangerous. You muttered a name lowly – under your breath – and he pocketed in the darkest corners of his mind for later. His shadows itching to tear the man apart.

“Look (y/n), if you’re ready I am more than happy to oblige but I need to know you’re really ready, I will wait as long as you need.” You pulled away from his chest and kissed him gently.

“I’m ready, I trust you,” he smiled up at you from where you perched on his lap and you giggled and he flipped you over, laying between your legs with a feral grin.

He made you cum three times with his mouth and those beautiful, beautiful hands alone – more than you had ever experienced with a man and he hadn’t even received any pleasure yet. Except from the pleasure of watching his perfect mate fall apart on his sheets, over and over.

And when he lay over you, your legs pushed up and wrapped around his waist, and his forearms on either side of your head – he would later swear he had never felt more complete.

“I’m here with you remember, will be the whole time.” He assured you, voice soft as he lined himself up and you smiled.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, and he pushed in slowly, filling every part of you and pushing against every spot you didn’t know you had. You swore under your breath when he bottomed out, the slight pain quickly being reduced to please as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” you felt shivers run through your body at his gruff voice and smiled, moaning when he began to move.

He pulled his head from where it hid in your neck and watched as you closed your eyes – head thrown back with a smile – and his hips bucked, desperately trying to control himself as he watched you arch your back.

“Shit Az, you’re so big,” you moaned loudly, unaware of the trance you had pulled your mate into.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered with a harsh thrust, a hand coming to stroke down your face as you opened your eyes to meet his, “So perfect.”

You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the love that filled it as you reached up to kiss him softly – conveying every word, every thought, through that kiss. When you pulled away you were nearing your end, the sensations building in you without the need of a fantasy or your own hand.

You moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as one hand instinctively moved to stroke down his wing. He shuddered above you with a loud groan – his thrusts speeding up as he to neared release, yours hips surely bruising from the force of his own.

“C’mon baby, need to feel you, need to know you’re mine.” His words ignited something in your stomach, and you clung tighter to him, kissing his sharp jaw as you smiled.

“I’m yours Azriel, now and forever.” Your gentle words pushed him over the edge and his skilful fingers dipping between your thighs brought you down with him. The two of you crying out at the sensations you shared as a growing need to never let him go consumed you.

He collapsed on top of you soon after and he intertwined your fingers with his own as your breathing evened out. He slipped out of you, and you smiled up at him as he sat up, rolling off your body and laying to the side while you came to rest your head on his firm chest. He brought his spare hand upwards – twirling strands of your hair slightly as you rested in silence. After a few minutes, you clambered into his lap and kissed him firmly as he pulled you impossibly close.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt his heart swell with gratitude to the world for giving him an angel that would willingly hold his hand and guide him out of the darkness.

“I am so in love with you,” he whispered back, and you giggled, a hand moving slowly to stroke him as you felt him harden beneath you again.

“Hmm, is that so?” you whispered.

Azriel, who had started pressing light kisses into your neck, nipped you gently, making you squeal, “What were you saying darling?”

“That I am also deeply, and unequivocally in love with you.” You replied and he rolled his eyes.

“Just putting me to shame with your big words.” He muttered and you giggled – crawling down his body.

“I’m sure I could make it up to you.”

#acofas #acotar #azriel #acomaf #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf

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cricketnationrise · 2 years ago

Note

for the mini fic game! “The summer sun was not meant for boys like me. Boys like me belonged to the rain.” Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

"And then I was gonna end with 'Boys like me belonged to the rain.'" Nursey finished. "What do you think?"

And Dex - well Dex had to think about that for a while. Because he knew how big a deal it was that Nursey was showing him his poetry at all. Knew first hand how hard they had both fought to get to this friendship. Been through argument after argument; careless comments and intentional hurts.

But they had gotten here. To a place where Nursey had shyly asked Dex's opinion - I trust you bro - and Dex, powerless to refuse, had agreed to hear it. He treasured that trust, held it close.

But he was fucked. Because Dex didn't have the words for this. Not the tactful, delicate words he knew Nursey needed to hear. His life was built around tools and numbers, not prose and poetry.

And Dex hated the poem.

Well -

It was written well, so well that even someone like Dex could follow the metaphors; Dex could be let in on Nursey's thoughts, just enough for a glimpse. But the glimpse was dark and twisted and Dex was furious.

"Dex?"

There was no way he could say that. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to come up with something, anything to compliment. And, as usual, words deserted him.

"You gonna say anything, man, you're looking sort of - tense?" asked Nursey. It breaks Dex out of his reverie and loosens his jaw but without his brain's permission.

"It's really awful, Nurse."

You could hear a pin drop. The silence feels like an actual weight on his chest and Dex knows, okay? He knows how badly he fucked up. Knows he won't ever get a chance like this again.

"I mean--"

"Wow, Poindexter, harsh," Nursey says, the light in his eyes snuffed out. "If you didn't want to listen, you shouldn't have said yes."

"Wait, Nursey, I meant --"

"Save it, Dex, we're chill," Nursey bites out, already shoving his things back into his bag.

"No it was written really well I just--"

"Save it for someone who cares," Nursey says, striding across the room, hand already on the doorknob before Dex finds his voice again.

"It's awful because at one point you felt like that Nursey."

Nursey pauses, not looking at Dex, hand still on the doorknob.

"What?"

"Or that you still feel like that I don't know, but. But - Nursey. Derek. The sun is meant for everyone. And the fact that you felt the opposite strongly enough to write a whole poem about it infuriates me."

Derek has turned back now, just staring at Dex, wearing an expression that Dex has never seen.

"Because you deserve all the good things this world can possibly muster. You're kind, and smart, and strong, funny and surprising, and you just - you care so much about the world and the people in it. There's no way that the world could ever be so cruel as to just restrict you to belonging to the rain. You belong to the summer sun just as much, if not more."

Dex can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. He has no idea where the words came from, but they seem to have dried up for now. He takes a deep breath and looks up at Derek and Derek is -

Dropping his backpack and striding toward Dex with such purpose that his breath catches in this throat. He still can't parse the expression on his face. No idea what Derek is going to do or say when suddenly he's there and reaching out and -

Lips. Full, slightly chapped, lips on his. Moving against his. Moving with his as he gathers enough brain cells to kiss Derek back. To throw his arms around Derek's waist. To sigh into his mouth, letting his tongue flick out and move against Derek's. Minutes, hours, or perhaps several sunlit days pass before they break apart, needing air.

Derek rests his forehead against Dex's, unwilling to separate further than a breath.

"Shit, Will. Warn a guy next time."

"I have no idea where that came from. But if this is the result, I am not complaining."

"If I say that you've been my summer sun for months now, are you going to hit me?"

"Just a little. But I'll save it for later."

"Chill."

#cricket writes #mini fic game #dex #nursey #nurseydex #my maine man #omgcp #check please #look this could also be a super angsty zimbits thing but #i just didn't want to #thanks for the prompt lau

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cazimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Perfectly exasperating

Synopsis: You really disliked Zemo, but one person you disliked more? John Walker. After bonding over how you disliked him with Zemo, you have the unfortunate situation of running into John. He flirts, insults, and hurts you and Zemo is ready to put him in his place.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/Tags: Use of swear words, John Walker being a dick, soft Zemo, protective Zemo

Author’s note: I was not intending this fic to come out as long as it did. This was one of the ones I had been putting off to write other stuff till I finally pulled myself around to writing it and ended up getting really into it. Funny how that happens.

Masterlist

Sequel

Part 3

Part 4

“Would you care for a Turkish delight?”

You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance, refusing to even look at him. Instead of forcing your eyes to focus on a spot in front of you, not moving them in the slightest. Zemo waited for a few moments before sighing and turning away from you.

“You’ll eventually have to talk to me, y/n” he exclaims as he walks over to the kitchen side of the room. You were sitting in the safe house Zemo had provided. There wasn’t much to do, just sit and wait till the funeral started. Zemo sought to communicate to you to keep you two occupied, but you didn’t want to talk with him, so you didn’t. You just sat on the settee, staring at the sofa opposite you while Zemo walked around looking through the cupboards for food.

You were pissed when Bucky revealed he broke Zemo out of prison.

The avengers had been your family. Whenever you needed them Steve would be there to offer you advice, Tony there to make you laugh. Nat there to beat up whoever required it. Everything was wonderful in your life. For once. And he had ruined it.

He caused the family you loved to split, hate each other, and that left you alone. So alone. Losing both Tony and Steve made you more mad at Zemo. He robbed the last years you could have spent with them, so yeah, no wonder you refused to talk to him.

He loved to annoy you, though. Any moment he got he was beside you, creating sarcastic remarks about what was happening, trying to joke around with you. Trying anything to communicate with you. The worst of it was when he insisted you had to be his date on the mission in Mandripoor. Feeling his arm wrap around you, a kiss to your temple, the smell of his cologne flooding you, drawing you in. It pissed you off knowing how easily you fit into the role of his date. Yet you knew deep down why. Every time he made a snide remark, you had to bite your tongue to stop making one back. Every time he tried to joke with you, it took all your effort not to snort. You hated him and everything he does, yet you could sense a fondness growing for him, just a slight one, in the deepest corner of your heart. Left there to be locked away. Never acknowledged.

“So, the new Captain America, huh? What’s he like?” you hear Zemo ask, leaning on the counter of the kitchen table, his eyes burning into the side of your head.

You feel bile rise to your mouth as he spoke.

John Walker.

John fucking Walker.

If you hated Zemo, you despised John Walker. Just thinking of him brought a scowl to your lips. Steve meant everything to you. He was a father figure to you. He stood for all you believed in. He was your hope, your light in the darkness. And John Walker seemed to tarnish it. You wouldn’t have minded him if he was a different mascot for America. If he became America’s new hope. It was the fact that they called him Captain America. That he had the shield. The title belonged only to Steve. He claimed he wasn’t trying to replace Steve, but that is what he was doing. Him being called Captain America felt like a spit on Steve’s memory. People would forget him, everything he did for the country he loved. They would only focus on John Walker, and you detested that.

You didn’t blame Sam for giving away the shield, unlike Bucky. You could understand why he did it. That shield held such a responsibility, such a legacy it seemed impossible to ever live up to. No, you blamed the people who took the shield away from the museum. Without Sam’s permission. They should have asked Sam. But of course they didn’t care. They didn’t care at all.

“I see by your reaction that your impression of him isn’t a pleasant one,” Zemo says, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Have you met him?” he asks

You try to hold back your opinion, but John Walker made you so frustrated, you knew if you didn’t rant about him you would burst.

“Yes. He’s a dick,” you spit out

Zemo quickly straightens up, surprised you actually answered one of his questions.

“Oh? Are you finally speaking to me.” he inquires, walking around the kitchen counter towards you.

“Don’t push your luck” you mutter, side eyeing him as he sits down opposite you. Sam and Bucky were out leaving you alone with Zemo. At the moment you were all waiting till the funeral. Zemo claimed there were a few hours to kill before everyone had to gather. Sam and Bucky decided to check out the town, make sure they knew it well in case a situation occurred where we had to dash. They had forced you to babysit Zemo.

“No, no, I like to hear you talk. Please, if talking about how this new Captain America is a dick is how I get you to speak to me, then let’s continue.” Zemo says, pouring out a glass of whisky for you and him. He holds the glass out to you, an eyebrow raised. You sigh, grabbing the glass out of his hand and drank, feeling the warmth creep up your throat. Zemo chuckles as he watches you, leaning back on the sofa, his arms resting on top of it.

“My, my. The man must be terrible if just the thought of him is making you talk and accept drinks from me,”

“He’s so infuriating! He thinks because he is Captain America he can stick his nose in other people’s business!”

“Ah, so he is one of those people. Doesn’t understand boundaries. How rude,”

“And get this, he got annoyed at us! Telling us we should stay out of his way when he is the one getting in our bloody way!”

“No” Zemo fake gasps

“Yes!” you exclaim, going into a rant, “I can’t even bear to call him Captain America. He doesn’t deserve to be called that. His actual name is John Walker. He claimed he wasn’t trying to replace Steve, but that is exactly what he is doing! And how he talks to me as well. He’s so condescending, treating me as if I am a kid while trying to compliment me and act like he’s all that in front of me,”

Zemo’s eyes narrow and he places the glass down on the table between you two, “You mean he flirts with you?”

“If you could call that pathetic excuse flirting. I suppose. It pisses me off though,”

“I can imagine. He sounds nothing like what Steve was. Nothing like his legacy,”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes, watching Zemo curiously. “I assumed you hated Steve”

“I never hated him. No. I can admire what he stood for, I just find unrealistic. All superheroes are flawed. Innocents will consistently be collateral damage while superheroes are allowed to exist.”

You stare at Zemo, amazed. Not realising the silence you were making. You had always thought he hated Steve. It always seemed that way. Yet he didn’t? Knowing he didn’t hate the guy you always viewed as a father figure mattered to you. And you don’t know why.

Zemo stared back at you. He was studying your eyes, trying to figure out what you were thinking. He didn’t realise what he thought about Steve would have affected you, but it appears he was wrong.

“Don’t worry y/n we’re back and guess what! We found your fav-” Sam shouts, opening the doors of the room and strutting in but he pauses, noticing you and Zemo staring at each other from the sofa’s. “What’s going on here?”

Zemo is the one to pull out of the eye contact trance, smirking as he looks over at Sam, “We were just discussing John Walker.”

Bucky who had followed Sam in grounded at hearing Zemo utter that name. “Perhaps you two would like a drink and join us in considering how much of a dick he is?” Zemo asks, raising his glass to them.

A few hours later you walked down the street following Zemo to find his associate. You didn’t appreciate how secretive he was being, but you understood it. He had many people who wanted to get him, and the second he wasn’t useful to us. He would be doomed.

“It’s too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit” you hear a whiny voice shout. Peering up, you notice John Walker and his sidekick ‘Battlestar’ or whatever jogging down the steps towards you.

“Ah! How did you find us now” Bucky shouts with his arms raised, striding towards them.

“Come on. You really think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention,” his friend responds.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” John mutters angrily

Zemo, who you were walking besides, turns his head to you, “I understand what you mean by infuriating”

You chuckle as John looks angrily between you two, “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison,”

“He did that himself technically” Bucky replies, and Zemo grins at you, as if bragging about it.

“Aw, this better be an unbelievable explanation-” John Walker exclaims, reaching up to you.

“Hey take it easy before it gets weird,” Sam suggests, interrupting John.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo reveals to John Walker, his seductive accent sticking out from the rest of them. He tries to walk past John. You, Bucky and Sam follow, but John stops him, placing a hand on his chest.

Zemo glares ahead, disgusted at John for even daring to touch him.

“Well, where” he says, getting into Zemo’s face

“All we know is, it’s a memorial so we are going to intercept her there,” Sam adds, trying to defuse the tension.

Zemo grabs John Walker’s hand and pushes it off him, striding forward again, and you jog to catch up with him.

“See why I call him a dick now,” you whisper

Zemo smirks, looking back at you, “Yes. He’s perfectly exasperating”

“What? No. Wait. No! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop. Okay?” John exclaims running forward and stopping you all in your tracks again after something Sam had said. “I think we are way past reasoning with her”

Zemo just stares ahead, fed up with John while you groan in annoyance. Not being able to even bring yourself to look at the man in front of you.

They argue for a few moments while you and Zemo stand idly to the side, Zemo glances at you rolling his eyes making you giggle. You smack his arm slightly trying to get him to stop making you laugh, but that only makes Zemo chuckle along with you. Eventually they calm John down but he glares over at Zemo, “We will deal with you later.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion” Zemo says, gesturing with his hands. He walks ahead, searching for his associate while John Walker moves beside you. You try to pick up your pace, but he keeps up.

“So working with a criminal now. Not very avengery like. I thought Zemo hated Steve. I wonder what Steve would think of you working with him,” he mutters peering at you.

“Need I remind you-you are also working with him now,”

“Come on, darling, don’t be like that,” John responds grinning, placing his palm on your back.

“Get your hand off me” you growl scowling at him

“Most women would fawn over me” John cockily resorts, still not removing his hand

“She asked you to remove your hand” you hear Zemo state, glancing over you see he had stopped walking forward, turned around and was now glaring at John. “Do I need to remove it for you?” he says angrily.

John frowns at Zemo. Finally, taking his hand off you and striding up to Zemo. Zemo tilts his head, his jaw clenching in fury as he stares at John.

“You are nothing but a dirty criminal. Don’t think for a second you can talk to me like that,”

“I will when you are being rude and disrespectful towards a lady,”

John scoffs, peeking over to you, then back to Zemo. Everyone else was standing to the side, not sure if they should intervene or not.

“What did she suck you off or something?”

Chaos ensured.

Bucky and Sam had to leap forward to stop Zemo from launching onto John while Battlestar had to hold John back. “Too far man, too far” he muttered to John

Zemo was snarling at John, his teeth bared in rage. His hair had fallen loose from their usual position and was hanging down over his forehead, giving him a more wild look. The vein in his neck stood out, twitching. His eyes were raging with fire as he looked at John. He kept trying to push past Bucky and Sam to get to John, but eventually gave up knowing it was futile.

You were standing at the side, shocked that John would have the ego to say something like that and at Zemo’s rage towards John for saying it. John adjusts his head. Not looking you in the eyes, but looking in your direction. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of said that”

Pulling your senses together, you walk up to John, glaring at him. “Yeah, you damn well shouldn’t have. You’re a dick. Nothing like Steve. You never will be,”

John wrinkles his nose in anger, frowning at your remark. You walk over to Zemo now that Bucky and Sam had let go of him. You give him a nod, showing your appreciation, and he nods back, though still glaring at John.

“Who I choose to associate myself with is none of your business. Who I choose to suck off is none of your business. Perhaps you can go fuck yourself and learn a bit of decency,” you spit at him.

A brilliant thought crosses your brain for another way to twist the dagger of your dislike into John. You reach out and grab onto Zemo’s hand, clasping it.

The action causes everyone to turn wide eyed to you. Including Zemo. He glances down at your hand in his then back to yours, surprise in his gaze but he immediately covers it up turning back to John smirking. He turns to behind himself, then back to the group.

“My associate is up ahead,”

You all turn to look forwards and see a little girl staring at you. Walking forward again, gripping his hand, Zemo nods to the girl as you all approach.

“Hello my friend,”

He holds out some money, a lot by the looking of it, and says to her, “This is for your family”

The girl hastily snatches it, obviously in need of it, and you can’t help but feel your heart warm a bit, seeing how kind Zemo was being to her.

“Can you show us the way?”

She beckons with her hands and walks forward. Zemo looks back at you, nodding to make sure you were okay, then follows her.

“What the hell” John murmurs from behind.

Following the girl, she leads you to a building. She turns, pointing inside a doorway, and runs inside not to be seen again.

“Karli’s in there,” Zemo tells the rest of the group. Sam replies and heads inside to talk to her while John suddenly grabs Zemo’s arm and yanks him against the machine on the wall.

Zemo moans as he is shoved into it, the hard outer piece hitting into his chest roughly.

“Hey. You’ve got ten minutes” John shouts to Sam as he takes out a pair of handcuffs and attaches them to Zemo.

“Really” Zemo mutters as John cuffs him to the machine.

“Then we are doing things my way,” John declares ignoring him

“Aggressive” Zemo jokes, though from his eyes you could still see the anger he harbors towards John.

He twists his head to watch John stride forward, staring at Sam, then back to him. “But I get it”

You wander over to stand by Zemo as you wait for Sam to talk to Karli.

“This day has brought a lot of changes. This morning you refused to say a single thing to me and now just moments ago you were holding my hand,” Zemo speaks quietly to you.

You shoot him a glare, “I did that to agitate John,”

“Sure, that was the only reason” but you knew from his eyes he didn’t believe you. They sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you.

“That cuff must bother you” you mention glancing over at them.

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy cuffs, in the right setting of course,” he quips.

You turn on your side, looking at him, your lips curling into a smile. If we are going to play that game, you thought.

“Oh, what setting would that be?”

Zemo’s smile deepened, enjoying seeing you play along, “I’m sure you would like to know”

“Do you have to do this here!” John exclaims, glaring at the two of you. You quickly step back from Zemo, forgetting that you two had company. Your eyes snap to Bucky’s with worry, but he wasn’t looking at you. He glared at the ground, not seeming to care what was happening between you and Zemo.

After that Zemo tried to engage you in conversation again but you effectively ignored him, going back to how you were treating him earlier, which you knew was frustrating him.

John was looking down at the shield, then squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, panting. Both you and Zemo glanced up, watching him cautiously. You glanced at Zemo and he stared back, confirming you were both thinking the same thing about Walker.

He got up and started shuffling towards the doorway. Both you and Bucky eyed at each other for the first time with the same recognition in your eyes. You leave Zemo’s side to walk over to where John was.

“No, no, no. This is a bad idea,” John mutters as he paces around. Zemo watches him like a hawk while you and Bucky stand side by side, arms crossed.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Sit tight,” Bucky replies.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me,” he spits back, pacing around.

“He knows what he is doing,” you reply

There’s silence for just a moment. You watch as John turns towards you and walks fast, hitting his fist against the shield, “I’m going in”

Bucky walks forward and places his hand on John, stopping him from moving further.

He tries to antagonise Bucky, trying to make him guilty for what could happen to Sam. And you could tell his words were influencing him.

“You will not be going in till ten minutes are up,” you state sauntering over to them

“Oh, so the whore has something to say,” John spits out

In the back, Zemo growls, tugging on the cuffs that connected him to the wall. You feel the outrage prick up on you as John’s remark.

“Don’t call her that” Bucky says, glaring at John

“She’s been openly flirting with the terrorist over there, so yeah, I think it’s appropriate to call her that,” John bites back

You rush forward, attempting to punch John in rage, but he was able to sidestep you and brings the shield up, connecting it harshly to the side of your head. Pain soars across your face as you fall down onto the ground. You groan, your eyesight going dark around the sides and black patches covering parts of what you could see.

“BASTARD” you hear someone shout with a beautiful accent. From the floor, you can’t make out much of what is going on. Someone with a metal arm attacking another guy. A man with a shield being attacked by a man in a trench coat. It was all too confusing for you. You just wanted to sleep.

You could feel yourself fading in and out. Your eyes begging to close. You could hear shouting. Someone talking.

Your head was raised. Someone was holding it in their hands. Your vision is blurry but as they get nearer your eyes could focus on them. Beautiful brown eyes, messy brown hair, cute thin lips. It was him.

“Y/n!?” Zemo shouted at you, “Y/n stay with me”

“My head hurts” you mutter to Zemo as he lifts you up, placing you against the wall. Slowly your eyesight came back, and you could see your surroundings. Only you and Zemo were left.

“Zemo, where is everyone?” you ask turning your head, but in doing so it makes you feel incredibly dizzy. You groan as Zemo places a hand on the side of your face to stop you moving.

“They went after the Sam,”

“I need to help them!”

“No, you need to stay here and recover,”

You look over at the wall then back to Zemo, “How did you get out of the cuffs?” you ask

“Ah well…” Zemo says and glances down at his hand, your eyes follow and widen seeing his hand, bruising covering it, his thumb sticking out at an odd angle.

“You broke your hand to get out!?”

“Well, I couldn’t let him get away with saying those things and hurting you,” Zemo mutters, smiling slightly but you could see the pain flickering in his eyes, “I gave him a well-deserved punch in the face”

You chuckle at the thought. Leaning forward, you kiss him lightly on his forehead, a gesture of you wanting to ease his pain. You move back just in time to see him looking at you, surprised, before your vision faded.

Taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 @ineffablebean @freyjasamael @avgravy @huntheimpossible @checkurwindow @there-goes-thefighter @bunniwritesx @montypythonsholysnail @yallgotkik @wonderwoman292

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x you #i love zemo #tfawts #marvel #daniel brühl #sam wilson #mcu #john walker

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snippychicke · 3 years ago

Note

Evening chicky! I hope your day is going well. 😄 I wanted to tell you how lovely Moonstone has been! You are doing a fantastic job and I am completely in love. I always look forward to new snippets and chapters. 🥰 Regarding the few prompts you have done, would you mind me asking what would an interaction between Khonshu and Hathor be like? Brother and sister talking, no avatars. I have a feeling Hathor would know about the Bonding the evening of the festival, like, right away. A kinda "Oh that little shit" moment. 😆 Thank you sweetie! Keep being amazing!

My day went as well as a slow friday can! And oh my goodness, my dear peep, thank you for the compliments! You made my day so much brighter with this!

I really wanted to just write the two being shits together/towards each other. I really do imagine Khonshu being the rebellious younger brother and Hathor being the older sister who acts like she is above such things when others are looking, but is totally supportive (And slightly jealous) of his acts.

Instead, I ended up writing this angst-ridden piece that only shows Hathor being the big sister and telling her bro to knock it off before he gets in serious trouble.

(And I stg, trying to make sense of Egyptian deity's relations to one another via wikia is a fucking pain in my ass. I swear I read somewhere they were related, but now I can't, but hell, I'm running with it and making it my own. They're all related in some form and fashion, but at the same time they're gods so our ideas of familial relations don't really apply because fucking metaphysics logic.)

And, in case someone out there is thinking because of that statement, I condone incest or whatever. No. I do not. At all. This is a work of fiction, not at all based on my own morals or whatever. It is meant to be enjoyed by mature individuals able to understand that what they read in this fic is not something to base their understanding of normal or healthy society/relationships/whatever around.

Anyways, my lovely, I'm sorry for the tirade. Here is your prompt. I apologize if it isn't quite what you wanted. (It's not what I wanted either, but here we are.)

Hathor was lounging, watching as the festival continued deep into the night, basking in the music and dancing, feeling the radiant magic of mortals falling in love and lust and indulging in the feelings created. It had been quite a long time since she walked the mortal streets, enjoying everything herself instead of through her avatar.

It had been quite a time since she had blessed a union such as her brothers and his avatar. She had begun to wonder if she ever would again, and had long given up on Khonshu being one of them.

Yet here they were. She could feel the moon god's emotions of love and joy entangled and enmeshed with the mortals, like an instrument whose notes were just slightly more clear and louder than the rest of the symphony.

Except something made the notes tremble slightly, catching her attention. Hathor closed her eyes, focusing her power on the quivering distortion. She wouldn’t have caught it if she wasn’t so close to Khonshu himself, but…

Oh.

Oh no.

She could sense his power twisting and separating, and pulled her attention sharply away as she opened her eyes, a hand covering her mouth. Heavens’ forbid, he was always defiant, but to this point? Bonding with his human avatar, now? In this day of age, when they had barely begun a relationship? Isis had courted Osiris for decades before asking their father, Atum-Ra, for permission.

Yet here he was, forgoing such formalities. Granted, their father had withdrawn from this realm long ago, and would have never even entertained the idea before punishing Khonshu for even thinking about it.

She would keep her mouth silent, and hope, for his sake as well as his avatar’s, that one bonding didn’t create a seed.

----

“Hello Khonshu.”

Khonshu felt a shiver go down his spine as Hathor appeared beside him, dressed in her finery of her white wispy gown, her crown of the disk of the sun famed by heifer’s horns on her head.

“Hathor,” he greeted warily, turning his attention back to the mortals below. It was a few years after the festival, and he had hoped that it would be several decades, centuries, before he saw his sister’s face again. IT wasn’t that he disliked her, but he still didn’t trust her, just as he distrusted the rest of the remaining Ennead.

“So this is how you spend your days? Haunting rooftops as you watch over your little avatar?”

“No,” he answered defensively. “I typically have much more matters to attend to, however today is… different.”

“How so?”

He shifted his weight slightly, pointed not looking towards her. “Why are you here?” he asked instead with a faint growl. “Don’t you have things to do as well?”

“Oh yes. Weddings to bless, little ones to protect. Isis and I have our hands full, especially with Taweret serving in the Duat.”

Khonshu gestured with his hand, to silently repeat his question. “But the thing is,” Hathor continued. “Our queen is happily attending to such things, so she won’t miss me taking a break to speak with you. So, why are we here today?”

“Hathor,” he snarled in reply. “Just tell me what you want and then go away.”

“The thing I want is for you not to end up imprisoned like many of our kin,” she stated, her soft tone changing into something steely. “And what I don’t want another mortal’s life to be ruined by the love of her god, as pure as his intentions may be.”

That got Khonshu’s attention, making him look over to her as he stood to his full height, nearly a (relative) head taller than her. “I am not ruining her life!” He snapped. “Stay out of my business, sister.”

“Once, I could understand,” she snapped back, her calm demour fading completely. “Twice, I thought would be the end of it. But yet you keep bonding with her! You should be thankful that no one else has noticed thus far! But I have. You have created a seed with her spirit. Any more, brother, and it just may take root!”

Khonshu was silent, his grip tightening on his staff. Hathor knew she struck a nerve, making her sigh. “I know you must love her to do such a thing, but think of her. Her future. She is a mortal of this modern age, do you think she will dedicate her entire life to you, to nurturing her seed? Will she forsake the realm of her ancestors to stay with you?”

“Enough.” Khonshu softly interrupted.

“Not until you admit that this has gone on long enough,” she stated firmly. “I will intercede on her behalf. Have you even talked with her about the implications? Of the consequences of your actions because you couldn’t stop yourself? Do you think this is right, bonding with her when she doesn’t know what it is you’re doing?”

“I said enough!” he roared, the winds whipping dramatically around them, not that she was very impressed by his rather petulant display. “You’ve made your point!”

“Have I?” She challenged, meeting his vacant glare with the fury of an enraged mother. “Do you finally realize what you’ve done? How obscene and dishonest you’ve been to the one you claim to love?”

“I do love her!” He shot back. “I care more for her than anything else in this cosmos! And yes, I realize what I’ve done! But heavens, Hathor, do you know what it’s like? To have someone love and understand you so? Her soul reaches and begs for mine just as much as I yearn for her. I-I would have never pushed her to do anything she didn’t want. I would have never even touched her, had she not wanted it.”

Hathor touched his beak, feeling the ache that his face couldn’t express. “If you truly love her, then you know that this cannot continue. For her sake as well as yours. I am sorry, little Khons. I wished that the fates would have allowed you to find such a partner before these times. If it were in the days of old, I would have happily sponsored and adopted her as kin. I would have given her my title of Mistress of Heaven, Lady of the Stars so she could be your queen.”

“She has become my everything,” He whispered. “I’m sure I would break if I left her.”

“You are a god, Khons. The god of the moon, of vengeance, and of healing amongst all your other titles. Become yourself once more, and allow her to live her own life, no longer bound to you. You will live, as will she. For as brief as their lives are.”

#khonshu #fanfic #khonshu marvel #khonshu moon knight #khonshu x reader #moon knight #mcu moon knight #mk moonstone

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

Same universe as the one where LXC kills JGY on a boat to not-Japan. JRS-centric as he grows up in the Nie clan and deals with his reputation as an inbred son of a traitorous bastard.

so I don't think I've ever written a fic in which LXC kills JGY on a boat, and definitely not one where JRS is a character? I mean, I've written a lot of fics, so possibly I did and I forgot, but I'm pretty sure about this one.

That being said, I don't think I've gotten any Jin Rusong prompts before so I'm reinterpreting this to be a prompt for a fic about JRS growing up in the Nie clan. Fic below!

ao3

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang reminded himself. Risk is proportionate with reward. Your spine should be made of steel, just as your saber is.

He licked his lips, thought of his brother who had loved him, and threw himself forward with tears in his eyes.

“Oh, gongzi!” he blubbered. “Can you help me? I’ve gotten completelylost, I don’t even know where to begin –”

Xue Yang blinked at him, the lids of his eyes moving slowly like a reptile.

“Maybe you know where my san-ge is? Lianfeng-zun?”

The feeling of immediate threat lessened. It seemed he’d gambled right, and the rabid dog that was Xue Yang could still be controlled by reference to Jin Guangyao.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could just give me some guidance on where to find him,” Nie Huaisang said, lowering his voice confidentially. “I’d be sure to pay you back! If there’s anything you want –”

“Do you have any snacks?” Xue Yang asked.

Nie Huaisang, who had come prepared based on the rumors he’d painstakingly collected, produced some dragons’ beard candy.

“Not bad,” Xue Yang said. “Okay, sure.”

Nie Huaisang smiled, and even meant it.

“Hey, good-for-nothing,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang turned to look at his least favorite but nevertheless highly useful source of information in Lanling Jin. The fact that Xue Yang had no idea that he was functioning as such just made it more satisfactory. “You like kids, right?”

Nie Huaisang blinked. “Yes?” he hazarded, not so much because he actually did – he’d never had strong feelings about children one way or the other, though perhaps he was being presumptuous in thinking that the reference did not involve goats – but because that seemed to be the answer Xue Yang was looking for.

Xue Yang wrinkled his nose in distaste, though not, Nie Huaisang thought, at him.

“Theoretically,” he said, and he wouldn’t know ‘theoretical’ if it hit him in the face, “if there were, I don’t know, a whole bunch of them hanging around somewhere without parents, you’d be able to do something about that, right? Especially if they had a talent for cultivation?”

It took only a moment to piece together what must have happened to lead to such a question, given the ruthlessness of the cultivation world and of Jin Guangyao in particular, and Nie Huaisang marveled briefly at the idea that Xue Yang might draw a moral line in the sand over something. Presumably he felt some kinship to the children, being similarly utterly infantile, amoral, and fond of sweet things.

“Oh sure!” he said, playing up the brainless idiot who didn’t know to ask questions. “My sect is always recruiting, you know. We took some losses in the war and, well, I feel like adult cultivators aren’t really all that interestedin joining ever since I took over…”

“Because you’re a waste of space,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang pouted at him. “Whatever, the important thing is that you have space for kids. Orphans. Think, like, a whole orphanage getting shut down or whatever – anyway, not important. You’d take them back to Qinghe, right?”

“Oh, that would be so wonderful!” Nie Huaisang clapped. “That would suit everyone, wouldn’t it? They don’t have to worry about the children, and we get new disciples. I should tell san-ge – no, on second thought, he might be too busy –”

“Definitely too busy,” Xue Yang said quickly. “Wouldn’t it be nice to accomplish something yourself? You could casually show him that your numbers went up at the end of the month instead so he gives you the credit, without explaining that it’s kids making up the increase.”

“That’s a great idea! He’ll be much more impressed by that, I should definitely do that. Where is the orphanage?”

“…uh, in the forest. The back forest.”

You couldn’t come up with a better lie?

“You already brought them here?” Nie Huaisang asked, batting his eyelashes. “You’re so nice, Xue-xiong! I’ll go tell my second in command to go deal with it right away!”

It was in the fifth round of kids getting picked up – small cultivation clans being massacred and there was nothing Nie Huaisang could do about it, because there was either no evidence or else Jin Guangyao had come up with some motive to justify his actions and, inevitably, Lan Xichen would be there behind him, soothing over tempers and providing explanations because he believed him, every time – that something unusual happened.

“Sect Leader Nie,” one of his most trusted subordinates murmured into his ear. “There’s a problem.”

Nie Huaisang found a reason to leave the party early, a reason to go to the rendezvous point, and, once there, found the reason for the problem.

“Oh, hey there,” he said with a smile fixed onto his face by sheer force of willpower, crouching down to make himself seem less intimidating. Not that he was ever particularly intimidating, though given the rage coursing through his veins right now, he thought he might be able to pull it off if he tried. “What a lucky chance! It’s so funny, finding you here, Songsong. How are you?”

Jin Rusong wiped his eyes and looked tearily at him, recognized that the person asking was his Little Uncle Nie, and threw himself into Nie Huaisang’s arms with a howl.

This was pretty typical – Jin Rusong wasn’t much of a crier, but when he did he definitely took Nie Huaisang as his model, something all the other adults in the cultivation world had a tendency to give Nie Huaisang dirty looks over.

The only problem here, of course, was that Jin Rusong was dead.

Or, rather…he was supposed to be dead.

And if Jin Rusong was here – here, in the rendezvous point where Xue Yang put those of his prospective victims that happened to be a little too young for even him to stomach killing, at least without the personal grudge that had driven him to slaughter the Chang clan in its entirety – that meant only one thing.

Jin Guangyao had ordered his own son to be murdered.

Through demonic cultivation, no less, which was a pretty nasty way to go. There was a reason everyone implicitly countenanced Jiang Cheng’s vendetta against demonic cultivators no matter where they were, even when he ignored all territory lines and forgot to not ask for permission – the things a demonic cultivator gone bad could do were just so much worse than what anyone else could that they couldn’t risk any delay in dealing with the problem.

Well, shit, Nie Huaisang thought, even as he comforted Jin Rusong, petting the toddler’s back to try to get him to calm down. What do I do now?

“There has to be a reason,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “He’s not rabid. Songsong was his son!”

“Sect Leader Nie, we can’t find anything that might explain it.”

“Look harder. I don’t care how minor it is, I want to know everythingto do with Songsong. Every little detail – every person who saw him – every medical report, every compliment, every good grade –”

“He placed last in one of his classes,” one of his spies volunteered.

“What?”

“He placed last in one of his classes. About two months before his ‘assassination’, and shortly before his father started collecting evidence against the other sects that were in his way, which he later used to ‘prove’ that they had been involved in the alleged murder.”

“He wouldn’t kill his son for failing a class,” one of the others objected. “The kid’s barely more than a baby. What’s he expecting, genius from birth?”

“He’s a genius himself. Why not?”

“If everyone inherited everything directly from their parents, he’d be a whore.”

“He’d be a Jin. They’ve all got that nose, every one of them…”

“I heard he’s having the other Jin bastards killed. All of them, even the women…”

Something snapped in Nie Huaisang’s hands.

They all turned to look at him.

“Investigate Qin Su,” he said, looking down at the mess of wood and paper that had once been a fan. “Come to think of it, she has a Jin nose, too.”

“I don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want you to go, either,” Nie Huaisang said, feeling tired and also much more in sympathy with his poor older brother than he’d ever been while Nie Mingjue had been alive. “But you disobeyed me, and that means we don’t have a choice. You have to go.”

Nie Songsong looked down at the ground, his lip quivering. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You did,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have to own your decisions, Songsong. You can’t take them back once they’re done, no matter what the consequences. Not even if you feel bad, but definitely not because you feel bad for having to pay for what you did.”

“But…”

“No, Songsong. You cannot be in the Unclean Realm when – when he’s here.”

Nie Songsong hung his head.

“He’s not your father anymore,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know that, right?”

Nie Songsong nodded.

Nie Huaisang sighed and held out his hands, and his arms were full of a teary-eyed child a moment later.

“He loved you once,” Nie Huaisang murmured into his child’s hair. “I love you now. I wish I could give you more than that – I wish I could give you an answer, tell you why he didn’t love you enough to keep from doing what he did. But I can’t. All I can do…”

Is what I’m already doing.

“You’re enough, er-ge,” Nie Songsong whispered back. “You’re enough. I promise.”

“When will I get to go night-hunting?”

“You go night-hunting all the time,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “You’re a fraction my age, and already my height, my weight, yet you wield a saber like my brother was around to raise you properly. You’re ruining my reputation, you know; now no one will believe that my incompetence comes from how short I am…”

“Not night-hunting with the rest of the sect, er-ge,” Nie Songsong said, rolling his eyes. “With other juniors!”

“Not long now,” Nie Huaisang said, looking down at the paper beneath his hands. It was all finally coming together. “Not long now. Just give er-ge a little more time to finish taking care of matters for da-ge, and you’ll be able to go night-hunting with anyone you like.”

“Er-ge! Are you all right? You look so pale…”

“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang whispered. “Songsong – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry –”

“What happened? Are you injured?” Nie Songsong demanded, already starting to pat him over, looking for wounds. “Er-ge, what’s wrong –”

“Your mother’s dead.”

Nie Songsong’s hands stilled.

“I told her about your heritage,” Nie Huaisang said, his lips numb. He’d never tried to hide it from Nie Songsong, although he’d introduced the subject very gradually and only once he thought that he’d be able to handle the revelation. “About your father – your grandfather. What they did. I wanted her to be angry at him, to turn against him, to distract him…instead, she killed herself.”

“Er-ge…”

“I shouldn’t have told her. If I knew –”

“Er-ge.”

“I should have brought her in earlier – told her about you surviving – I kept her from you for years –”

“Er-ge!”

Nie Huaisang looked at the child he had raised as a little brother the way his older brother had raised him, a father in everything but name, and who he had the constant feeling of having failed.

He wondered, as he always did, whether his brother had felt the same about him.

“Er-ge, it’s all right,” his little brother, his adopted son, said, and took his hands in his. “It’s all right. You tried, remember? Time after time, you tried to talk to her, but every single time you concluded that she would’ve told her husband instead of trusting you. She would’ve ruined everything. If she did that, I’d be dead all over again, and you with me.”

That had been what Nie Huaisang had concluded. That was why he’d never told her.

But…

“She’s your mother.”

“And you’re my er-ge. As long as you don’t die on me, too, it’ll be all right. Okay? It’ll be all right. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He’d already done so much, caused so much chaos and strife, and yet this moment – this was the step too far.

This was the first time he realized that he wasn’t sure he believed that it would be worth it anymore.

But by now…what else was left to do? There were no ways out of the plan he’d made himself; he’d designed it that way on purpose, because he’d known that if there was a way out, that snake would find a way to slither through it. He just hadn’t thought that he would be the one looking for it.

It didn’t matter.

He had to keep going.

His older brother deserved it, even if the younger one didn’t.

“I represent the Nie sect,” the young man – just about their age, though shorter than either of them – said with a smile. He seemed kind, gentle and polite, easy-going, but Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui looked at each other, and then at Jin Ling, who just scowled. “Can I come in?”

“Were you even invited?” Jin Ling asked in bitten off words. He was still bitter about some of the things that had happened in the Guayin Temple a month before, and of all them the one he was most bitter about was his second uncle’s retreat into seclusion – they were all upset about that.

“But it’s a discussion conference,” the young man said, blinking in confusion. “We’re a Great Sect. Why wouldn’t we be invited?”

In the face of such profound ignorance, there really wasn’t very much they could say, and eventually Lan Sizhui stepped forward with a smile, welcoming the young man – Nie Songsong, he introduced himself – into the Cloud Recesses.

Everything seemed fine for a little while. Lan Sizhui was able to talk to the people in charge of arranging juniors into finding another place for Nie Songsong to stay, although it would be a little delayed – Nie Songsong assured them that there was no issue – and as recompense they even showed him, at his request, a few of the main landmarks.

And then they turned around and their guest had disappeared.

“I knew he was up to no good!” Jin Ling exclaimed.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Lan Sizhui told him.

“I’m with Jin Ling,” Lan Jingyi said. “He seemed so nice and understated – just like you know –”

“Don’t talk about my little uncle,” Jin Ling hissed at him. “I know it’s true, but just – don’t, okay?”

“We should find where he went,” Lan Sizhui decided.

It took them a while, but in the end they found him in the most unexpected place: in the rooms their sect leader had chosen for his seclusion, sitting on the bed with Lan Xichen’s head on his shoulder, sobbing as if his heart had been broken.

“What are you doing?” Lan Sizhui exclaimed, unnerved even out of his own habitual politeness.

“I came to greet my uncle,” Nie Songsong said, his manner just as gentle and polite as it had been from the beginning, although it was now evident that he was as stubborn as a rock and not easy-going at all.

“Your uncle?” Lan Jingyi gaped. “How can he be your uncle?”

“You’re Sect Leader Nie’s son!” Jin Ling accused.

“I’m Sect Leader Nie’s little brother by adoption,” Nie Songsong corrected. “It’s through my father that he’s my uncle – and you my cousin, I suppose.”

“Your – father?”

“Oh, yes. My birth name, you see,” Nie Songsong said, “was Jin Rusong.”

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself?” Lan Sizhui asked. “Given that everyone knows – well –”

Nie Songsong finished the character he was writing and put down his brush. “Wondering if you should let it be known that you were born with the surname Wen?”

Lan Sizhui jerked in surprise, then flushed. “How did you – that didn’t come out in Guanyin Temple.”

“No, I knew it before,” Nie Songsong said. “My er-ge is very clever, you know.”

“Yes, I suppose I do...why do you call him brother? Shouldn’t he be uncle, or – or –”

“Uncle is probably right,” Nie Songsong said. “But he raised me like a son, just as his brother did for him.”

Lan Sizhui looked down at his hands.

“Why did he publicly reveal your background, knowing that you were still around?” he asked again. “Everyone will know. Who your father was, all those terrible things he did, his relationship with your mother –”

“Why shouldn’t he? He did do all those things, and he did have that relationship with my mother.”

“But what about you? What about your reputation –”

“Are you planning on sweeping Wen Ruohan’s grave?”

Lan Sizhui stared at him.

“He’s your grandfather, isn’t he?” Nie Songsong looked calmly back at him. “Who he was, all those terrible things he did –”

“That’s nothing to do with me!”

“And the crimes of my father are nothing to do with me. My er-ge gave me his surname, just as Hanguang-jun gave you his, and for the same reason – to cut us off from the sins of our original family.”

“I suppose that’s true. But – no one knew about you, just as no one knew about me until I told them, and I only told them because they were my friends. Why’d you tell us? Aren’t you worried we’d tell more people?”

“Of course I am,” Nie Songsong said. “I hope you don’t, of course, but you would’ve found out regardless – second uncle wasn’t exactly subtle in his grief. And I had to tell him.”

“Why? To bring him out of seclusion?” Lan Sizhui hesitated. “Do you care so much for him?”

“Of course not. The last time I met him, I was a small child, and my father was just about to order me murdered; that’s not much of a basis to build a relationship. But having him lock himself away like that, as if he were in mourning…it hurt er-ge. And I won’t let anything hurt my er-ge. Anything, or anyone.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“I understand,” Lan Sizhui said.

“I’m glad you do,” Nie Songsong said, and then smiled. “I would’ve had to escalate to threats next, and I’m given to understand that I’m too short to really pull them off properly.”

Lan Sizhui snorted. “I think we’ve all learned that that’snot true.”

“Should we talk about this?” Jin Ling asked, arms crossed over his chest and glaring.

“What do you want to talk about?” Nie Songsong replied.

“How about the fact that your father tried to kill me?”

“Sure. Can we talk about the fact that you got all of his affection for years and years after he tried to kill me?”

Jin Ling blanched.

“I wonder if he would’ve gotten me a dog, too,” Nie Songsong mused. “I was too young for that when he ordered his demonic cultivator to feed me to fierce corpses and have my body ravaged until it was barely recognizable…but sure, let’s talk about how he tried to kill you.”

“I was talking about Sect Leader Nie!”

“Well, then, you should have been more specific. Sect Leader Nie’s my brother, not my father.”

“He’s a whole generation older than you!”

“My little uncle, then.”

Jin Ling flinched. “That’s worse. Go back to calling him your brother.”

Nie Songsong shrugged. “Would it help if we fought?”

“…what?”

“It makes me feel better, sometimes. Besides, I may be short, but I’m pretty good with the saber. I bet I could match your sword…maybe not your arrows. But I’ve always wanted to try.”

Jin Ling looked at him suspiciously for a long moment.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Sure. Why not?”

“I really hate that you’re kind of cool,” Lan Jingyi told him.

“I am so cool,” Nie Songsong said, and passed him another jar of wine. “Want to see my spring book collection?”

“…yes please.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Lan Xichen said to Nie Huaisang, who shrugged. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t trust me to help.”

“It’s only what I should have done,” Nie Huaisang said, not for the first time. He’d said it so often these past few days that it felt like a new refrain, an alternative to the old I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. He preferred the original. “I was his little uncle, remember? I held him on his first month party. How could I do any less?”

He did not say that Lan Xichen, who could be classified as Jin Rusong’s older uncle, had done much less, but from Lan Xichen’s expression, he’d taken it that way anyway.

“You never…” Lan Xichen hesitated. “Did you ever have any – concerns?”

“That he’d turn out an idiot? No. I figured he’d be in good company, with me.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, you meant whether I was worried that he’d grow up longing for his blood family over his adopted family and turn against me in favor of his real father?” Nie Huaisang asked mildly. “No, not really. The memory of your father ordering you to be mauled by fierce corpses and to make sure your face is destroyed so that there’s a reason to refuse to let your mother see the body, as it would only upset her, is a fairly effective panacea against things like that.”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, though he looked sick all over again at the reminder of how considerate Jin Guangyao could be when it came to those he thought of as people, and how monstrous he was towards those he didn’t. “No, just – your brother always took such a hard line against the Wen sect…”

“Because they were raised with the philosophy that they were superior to the rest of us and my brother purposefully made himself into the symbol of their fallibility, thereby making himself and all the rest of us the primary target for their traumatic realization that they’re just as weak and vulnerable as everyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “Our Nie sect cultivators were always especially targeted whenever we were captured – our survival rate as prisoners of war was less than half all the other sects, and it wasn’t just because we were usually more injured when we got caught. Even the civilians surnamed Wen would pull out knives and try to stab us in the back if they had half a chance! We were in a blood feud with them, er-ge. You don’t put down blood feuds just like that, not even if you want to. That’s not how it works.”

Lan Xichen nodded slowly, thoughtful.

“Anyway, Songsong is mine now,” Nie Huaisang said. “Just as Lan Sizhui is your brother’s, and Jin Ling Jiang Cheng’s. Can’t we all just agree to not care about the rest?”

“I suppose we have to,” Lan Xichen said, bowing his head. “Huaisang…did you ever think about what happens now? I mean – what should we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled humorlessly when Lan Xichen looked at him. “I’m not joking. I didn’t know what to do when I got Songsong for the first time, er-ge, and I don’t know what to do now, either. I just wanted to see justice done for my da-ge, and I did, and for the rest – I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” Lan Xichen said. “I don’t know, either.”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang thought. Spine as steel as your saber.

“Would you like to come visit the Unclean Realm sometime?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “Perhaps we can figure out what we don’t know together. If you like.”

“…perhaps I will,” Lan Xichen said.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #xue yang #lan xichen #jin rusong #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #my fic #my fics #nothing ventured nothing gained

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itstheimpossibledream · 4 years ago

Text

Homecoming

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count:1990

Warnings: Smut,DaddyDom!Henry, Oral (female reciving)

Summary: Henry takes you to his hometown but, you become slightly jealous of the attention he recieves. Please do not repost my fics without my permission but, we always love a reblog ! Inbox& Requests always open!

You stepped into the hotel room, immediately taking off your jacket and throwing your purse to the floor.

"What the fuck Henry?" you asked as you whirled around to face him. The beach day date of his hometown was his thing, it was supposed to be planned so that the two of you could finally spend some free time together. But, the entire day had ended up with Henry signing autograph after autograph; being hit on by a waitress here, asked out by a bartender there, and he's just taking it as though it is completely normal. You had spent so much time choosing your outfit, ordering clothes for the weekend. It had been so weird to be in his hometown. His parents had been entirely shocked Henry even wanted to come visit home again.They were on a vacation somewhere, Henry spared no expense on their travel it was the one thing the job actually made easier. He was used to the money being able to satiate everyone else in his life, that when it failed to impress you, he had no idea how to go from there. It shocked you how thoroughly and completely he had outweighed telling you what he's feeling. The one thing you wanted more than anything was for Henry to let you in. To just explain his emotions and say what he was thinking. The brooding charm was sexy, and it had no doubt gotten you home from the club that night. But, as boyfriend material he was wearing you thin.

"Why can't we just get one moment together?Or does that not matter to you anymore? We came on this trip in an attempt to be together yet the whole time we have never actually been together. In Fact, I think I've spent more time in your apartment during filming than at your actual home. I'm trying to get to know you Henry, I am but I can't do it if you're constantly flaunting yourself for people.”

"Flaunting?"he asks " You wanted to see my first job, I took you there.That wasn't flaunting.That was me trying to let you in, and the second the waitress compliments me you get upset."

"Compliment!..... Henry? Compliment?Fucking really ? She told you she and the other waitresses had a bet on how big your dick is!" you exclaimed, sitting down at the edge of the bed, partially running a hand through your hair .

"Yeah but I didn't tell them !" he fired back "Look, (y/n) I am trying here. You have to meet me halfway.This is what people are like around me. I want this to work , I -I want this to be something " He slowed his speech down looking directly into your eyes,so piercingly blue. " I also need you to promise me that you're going to try. I-darling I need you to try." he kneeled on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look into his eyes. His eyes pierced your soul, he always knew what to say to keep you from walking away. You sighed,removing your hands from his, finally committing to taking down your ponytail and letting your curls frame your face.

"You are beautiful. I'm sorry people reminded me more today of that than they did of you, you need to hear it just as much, if not twice. You deserve it......Everything about being with you makes me feel lucky."

You looked down at him and took notice of the fact that you usually never looked down on him. Seeing the top of his head was a virtue. He was being vulnerable. You also noted the cologne he had on, not overtly strong but,enough of a scent for you to notice. His eyes looked strong, so serious and eager to please you. You gently leaned in and kissed him. You laughed as you felt him smile into your kiss. He reached a hand up cradling the back of your head over your hair, his thumb caressing your cheek. He steadies you, leaning further in. You felt safe, in this room in your little love cocoon. The salty smell of the sea water wafted through the window and you hated yourself for ruining what was meant to be a beautiful time.Waves of emotion washed over you as you inhaled him deeply.

"So you like to argue don't you?" you felt Henry's smile turn into a smirk as he ran his other hand along the up the curve of your thigh, to the edge of your shirt. He played with the hem of the shirt denying you the contact he knew you desperately craved. You pushed your hips further in, closer to him and he exhaled into you. You knew he could feel the heat reverberating from your core, and you were sure his jeans were tightening by the minute. Hooking an arm around his neck you pulled yourself up and into him. He situates his hand on the side of your face slowly dipping his thumb into your mouth. You pull off his baseball cap and toss it behind you. So much for him being disguised during the date. You couldn't get away from the fact that seeing that passion from him, that honesty had moved you.On the other hand he was an actor, that's what they were supposed to do right? say the right thing?

"You know, next time instead of getting jealous" he mumbled in between kisses you could just tell me to follow you to the bathroom. I could be extra loud when I cum too, so they know I belong to you." he lifted you up by your ass and threw you onto the bed.

"aren't you always extra loud when you cum?" You asked wriggling out of your vest and shirt beneath him.

"Isn't that what you like?" he retorts, trying to ignore the fact that he was slightly stuck inside his shirt. Yes he was perfect at saying the right thing but, he was still a person,still real, still riddled with insecurities like anyone else. It just didn't help that the rest of the world rarely saw it. That first night you met he had stood near you in the club for a little shy of an hour before saying anything at all.

He tugs harder on his shirt and you watch as the stretch makes the muscles in his sides more visible, the outline of his ribs below the expanse of hair on his chest that you had never particularly been into, yet on him seemed masculine and mature. Trailing down to the V. His abs and hips meeting in this perfection of symmetrical musculature was enough for you to understand why any woman would swoon at the thought of him entering a diner and crossing his toned legs at the table even with a baseball cap pulled over his eyes.

"Now you're getting shy." He jests at the fact that you had not answered his question but proceeded to take him in.

"Tell daddy what you want." he encouraged, his voice barely a whisper. God, when he said things like that, it made you unable to respond. So, you decided not to,grabbing his hand and moving it down into your sweatpants, to your core pressing it hard against your clit. He began to move his hand slowly as he smiled down at you; The smile lines at the corner of his mouth, playing games with your heart.

"Is that it then ? You just want me to touch you?" his warm hand inched lower and you could feel him lightly dip a finger into you. You moan to your own surprise, andhe immediately removes it. You watch his face, intent and you're slightly embarrassed by the attention, but it's enough just knowing that he wanted to be inside of you, any part of him. You buck your hips up to him in an effort to convince him to finger you again but, to no avail.

"Unnnhhh.No. sweetheart I said tell me " he says shaking his head.

Your voice comes out shakily and much smaller than expected.

" I want- I want you to make me cum." you say breathlessly

"What else?" he leans in , his face turning hard and stoic.

"I want you to degrade me, to use me." He breaks into a full smile now, wide and you exhale loudly as he forces two fingers back inside of you. He chuckles at the noise you make, knowing full well what he's doing to you.

"You want me to use you like a toy because you're a whore." He says matter of factly, picking up speed between your legs.

"You're so wet just thinking of me using you, aren't you princess?" he growls into your ear.God he was really going for it today, and you were loving every minute of it.

"You're so needy already I didn't even get a chance to fuck you." he chuckles and you feel his palm shift right onto your clit.

You manage to whisper "Right there" knowing full well it may be the only instruction you are allowed to give for the rest of the day. But,he doesn't move his hand.

"You like that pressure on your little clit don't you baby?" he asks. You look up at him pleadingly, eyes begging for him to allow you to have this orgasm. "Come for me then, go ahead" he says lifting his eyebrow. You look down at his hand buried inside you under your sweatpants and begin moving your hips faster.

"Come on Daddy's hand since you want to come so bad." he mocks , you buck onto his hands, knowing you are close. You let out a small whine and you can see as his blue pupils blow out with lust. More whimpers come and before you know it you are releasing all over his hand, breathing into his mouth .

"That's my fucking girl." he smiles broadly looking down at you. You cover your eyes with your forearm, embarrassed to know that he had watched your face the entire time.

"You are so beautiful right now." he says as you manage to break into a slight smile, still refusing to make eye contact. You feel the weight on the bed shift as he moves. When you finally remove your arm , you see him at the foot of the bed. Somehow, he had found his hat and he tugs it on as he reaches for his phone on the hotel table.

"What are you doing?" you ask

"O nooow you want to talk to me." he chuckles as you roll your eyes "I'm getting room service for us so we don't have to go anywhere. It's just going to be you and me, like it should've been."

You sit up in bed promptly "Well, I still want to know about this place! What you did, what you liked, what you learned in your hometown."

"This is what I learned, " he says, gesturing to the bed."This is what I'm good at."

"Please, Henry you're good at more than just sex."

"Am I ? My agent isn't exactly having the easiest time right now." he says slumping on the edge of the bed.

"Hey- we both have shit that we could think of all weekend to make us pissed life isn't going our way...or- or we could say fuck it , and enjoy this bit of time we have together because we don't know when it's going to happen again. "

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry sweetheart." he smiles.

"You're forgiven. Now, " you say moving yourself forward and crawling towards him on the bed. "It's your turn" reaching for his belt buckle. He immediately lays back, ready for you to do whatever you wanted with him. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be such a bust after all.

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

Text

Kid.

Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Summary: Reader can’t get Poe to stop calling her kid so she’s tries a new method of getting him to stop.

A/N: Hey guys!!! Here’s my sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April— I had a really fun time writing this all out lol- I feel like it’s very telling when reading this what I like lol 😂 I hope y’all enjoy it and I’m always looking for feedback or really anything my followers want to talk about- you can send me an ask here- I’d love to hear from y’all 🥰

Warnings: 18+, Age Gap (never specified specifically how large it is), Reader overreacts just a bit, Sub Poe, Smut, Hate fucking, Dry fucking, Oral sex (M receiving), Choking, Edging, Unprotected sex, Creampie

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.4K

Your nerves were alight with frustration and annoyance, your jaw clenched tight enough to give you a small pressure headache. Poe seemed to always know exactly how to push your buttons perfectly. He knew- he knew how you felt about the nickname he had chosen for you. You didn’t know why he continued to call you that, maybe it was just to push your buttons because he thought it was funny or worse because he actually thought of you as inferior to him.

Despite your arguing thoughts trying to tell you that Poe is only doing this to get under your skin, you couldn’t help but get angry every time he said it. You knew he respected all of the younger pilots, maybe he just thought you weren’t as skilled- even though he had complimented your flying skills many times.

You had asked him not to use the nickname over a million times it seemed. It boiled your blood to hear it, making you feel like he didn’t respect you fully because you were somewhat younger than him.

“Hey Kid!” He shouted out as you retreated away from him in pure anger. It didn’t really matter what you had been arguing about, your anger boiled over as soon as you heard the nickname out of his mouth.

You had both just returned from a mission together along with the rest of your squadron that Poe commanded. You were exhausted and Poe just had to get under your nerves at the prime time.

Stomping from the hangar all the way to your rooms was somewhat of a long walk, you encountered people but you brushed them off as quickly as you could. There was no doubt that Poe was hot on your heels, probably in an attempt to make amends. Though every time he promised that he wouldn’t say it again- he of course broke that promise.

Both of your rooms were in the exact same hallway on base, one reserved for upper personnel. If he cared to acknowledge it he’d notice that you’re not the kid he claims that you are, you’re upper personal for fucks sake. You stomped off down the hallway not caring if he followed you or not, you’d just shut the door in his face if he tried to continue.

He did in fact follow you as you suspected, not for the purpose of going to his own room right next to yours. He followed you to continue the argument.

“Come on don’t walk away I just want to talk!” You scoffed, he didn’t want to talk, he wanted to argue. Paying him no mind you pressed the key card in far too hard to woosh open the door to your room.

Somehow Poe managed to scoot in through the door frame just as you were going to close it. Your fists clenched in anger, not wanting to turn to look at him as it would only make the fire in your belly rage more.

“Well- Kid you gonna tell me why you stomped away from me?” He was hunched over breathing heavily from chasing you down. You wanted to stomp your foot in indignation over frustration due to the fact that he absolutely did know why you had stomped away from him. You whipped around to face him finally, annoyed that he was in your room now- just another thing to add to the list of grievances.

“Stop calling me Kid!” He chuckled in response to your fury, just like he always did, acting like your anger was completely unreasonable. Maybe it was, but you were tired of him going against what you had specifically requested.

He was about to retort after he finished chuckling, his mouth opening in a way that was obviously going to become a sassy remark.

You grabbed the front of his flight suit in anger and pushed him onto the cot you slept on every night. Anger was radiating through you, with no intention of abating, you needed to get rid of it somehow.

Instead of screaming like you normally would have you did something you never thought you’d have the guts to do, you kissed him. The kiss wasn’t filled with sweetness, it was hot, heavy, and full of your frustration. He definitely tried to overpower the kiss, yet eventually accepted defeat- maybe for the first time in his life.

“Do you want this? I won’t be gentle.” You asked while holding the front of his flight suit, bringing his face close to yours and holding eye contact. He nodded with a gulp and you released your grip on his orange suit. Nonchalantly you then asked while moving to close the door to your room, “What’s your safe word?”

“I use the color system.” You nodded in confirmation, coming back after shutting the door so you could escape prying eyes. When you moved to straddle his hips you could see his eyes darken further, pupils blown wide in lust.

To start your journey to ruining him you rested your still clothed center to rest right over his growing bulge. Starting with slow light movements seemed to frustrate him, you didn’t care. He wanted to contest your dominance over him, but not too much as he did not move to touch you, waiting for your permission. The only time he allowed himself to move was when you captured his lips into a bruising kiss, bringing his face up to meet yours by your fingers tangled into his inky curls.

He whimpered underneath you as you ground your hips harder into his bulge. There were still many layers of clothing you had yet to take off, you could still firmly feel how hard he was through them all. He tried to reach up to grab your hips, but you didn’t let him get very far. Instead of letting him touch you you took both of his hands and pinned them above his head.

“Maybe I would let you touch me if you behaved.” The sneer in your voice made Poe flinch away and whimper again, though he did not say anything. You then tried to goad him into speaking, “Are you going to apologize to me?”

Despite his pathetic little whimpers that showed you his submission to you he still refused to budge. His head shook back and forth, telling you no to your request. In response to his refusal you scoffed and didn’t give him the satisfaction of a stinging retort for now. Instead you started to grind into him harder with a faster pace that had him close to falling apart in his flight suit.

When you could feel him starting to approach his release, his cock twitching in the flight suit, your movements stopped abruptly. You had to remove one of your hands from where you had them pinned on the cot to slap it over his mouth when a broken cry that would have been too loud tried to escape.

You chuckled darkly at his desperate look, his eyes watering a little, “If you would just apologize I would let you finish.”

He tried to make a noise, but underneath the pressure of your hand it barely made a sound. When I removed my hand his bratty attitude re-emerged, “I won’t apologize.”

His indignation made your jaw tick, he must have been looking for a punishment at this point. It was now your job to make sure you gave him one that he wouldn’t enjoy, otherwise it wouldn’t be a punishment.

You released his hands so you could begin to undress him, his flight suit had a small wet spot on it from his precum. It made you wonder how soaked his boxers were underneath. They were just as wet as you expected. You run your fingers around the spot, making his hips buck a little which you stopped by pushing them down with your other hand.

When you then peeled his boxers off of him along with his flight suit you decided to give him a taste of what he wanted, planning on ripping it away again just as he was about to finish.

You shuffled your body down his until your mouth was resting over his cock, it looked painful to you. Flushed a deep red with precum leaking down his shaft and was hot and heavy in your hands. You didn’t have any plans on letting him finish anytime soon, you couldn’t imagine he could stand it much longer before breaking and giving you an apology.

His fingers twitched at his side when you blew cool air onto his length, you sneered again, “If you touch me I’ll stop.”

He did follow that direction at least, leaving his hands by his side and fisting the sheets. As a slight reward or even more of a punishment from a different perspective you let him feel your mouth around him. Suckling the tip slightly made his toes curl, but he still did not say anything. Maybe he would be harder to break then you thought.

You began to work on him with more effort, using your mouth and hands wrapped around his length to send him close to the edge again.

“Please!” He begged as you took him as far back into your throat as you could, gagging a little each time it hit the back of your throat.

You pulled off him for a second to answer his plea, “You know what to say if you want to cum.”

His head flopped back at your words and a groan of frustration came out. You worked him up to the edge two more times- he still wouldn’t break even when you were goading him while sucking on his balls and stroking his cock.

You were absolutely soaked, your own arousal getting frustrating. Damn him and his stubbornness you thought. Fuck it- maybe he’d break when he was finally inside you.

In your anger you ripped the zipper of your flight suit as you tore it off of your own body. You weren’t looking forward to explaining why you needed a new one to Leia tomorrow. For now you were focused on getting rid of the ache between your thighs while punishing Poe further.

A collective groan came out of the two of you as you sunk down on his cock slowly. You were so wet from just the anticipation that you could have taken him perhaps a bit faster, but the wrecked look on his face was even better. You relished in his desperation as you began to create a steady pace, still not as fast as he probably wanted you to go. He did follow at least one of your rules, keeping his hands fisted in his sheets. It made his knuckles lighten from how hard he was gripping them, showing how desperate he was to not let you win.

He was nearing his breaking point, you were sure of that. His whimpers had gotten even higher pitched when you started to swivel your hips in a certain way. Tears were also prickling at the corners of his eyes almost spilling down his tanned cheeks that were slick with sweat. He still had some fight in him though apparently, he was resilient as steel.

“Go faster- Kid.” Oh- he definitely knew what he was doing. He stoked your anger on purpose, finding it funny that you got so riled up over a simple nickname.

In your anger your hand then wrapped around his throat and with each bounce you spoke to punctuate your point, “Don’t.” “Call.” “Me.” “Kid.”

His legs were shaking hard underneath you, thoroughly overwhelmed by your all encompassing touch. You had complete control over him and his finish. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to finally apologize but couldn’t get the words out. Deciding to tease him further and test his limits a bit by saying, “Are you finally going to apologize?”

There was a slight pause in conversation while you continued to keep your pace going, waiting patiently for a response. Your own orgasm was beginning to rise within you. You could finish now, torturing him even further by feeling you spasm around him in pleasure, but you wanted to finish together if possible so you tried to be as patient as possible. Just when you were about to prompt him again he finally found the words you had been looking for.

“Yes! I- I won’t callll you kid again, I’m sorry!” The apology that you had been waiting for was so broken that it took you a second for you to understand what he had said. Your hips slowed their movements for a moment to then lean forward while tightening the hold you had on his neck slighting. You dragged your tongue from the bottom of his neck to the bottom of his ear before then whispering into his ear, “Thank you, you can cum now- and touch me.”

You clenched around him when his hands gripped your hips hard, using them as leverage to begin to thrust into you hard. Your own orgasm washed over you when after the last few thrusts he rubbed your clit before filling you.

After you had both rode out your releases you slumped forward onto Poe, trying to catch your breath. His fingers moved to slowly trace up your spine, which helped relax you.

“Hopefully I won’t have to teach you a lesson about what nicknames you can use on me again.” You breathed out with a chuckle, moving your own hand to trace his skin.

“I don’t know- I kinda liked the lesson you taught me.” A cheeky smirk was most definitely on his face as he said those words, which made you lightly tap his shoulder.

You clenched around his softening cock that was still inside you as retaliation, causing him to groan. You started to roll your hips at a languid pace, just so you could hear his whimpers again, this time from being still slightly sensitive from his first release. His cock was becoming hard inside you again, almost ready to go for a second round, “Do I need to teach you another lesson?”

You did have to admit though that the nickname was growing on you, not that you were going to tell Poe that anytime soon.

Ask Me Anything

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All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (I will keep trying to fix this 😡). New tag lists (no one has asked to be on these yet)

Oscar Isaac Characters: Poe Dameron/SW:

#poe dameron #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #star wars x reader #star wars fanfic #star wars smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #30 fics in 30 days #Star Wars

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