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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year ago

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The Silver Dragon (46/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 5144

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Now that Aemond has broken his silence, what truths will he reveal?

Warnings: mentions of suicide and self-harm, Westerosi medicine

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The Truth

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.”

Arianwyn could not help the desperate sob that tore through her at Aemond’s words.

His words –Aemond had spoken.

Never once in the fifteen years since he first started having his quiet days had he ever broken his silence so quickly.

And after what happened at Storm’s End, Arianwyn had expected this silence to last hours, perhaps even days.

But already, he spoke to her. He apologized to her…

Arianwyn looked up from his bloody, ruined trousers to his face. The beautiful face she loved so dearly, now marred with blood and tears and shadowed by grief and pain.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head as she took his hands. “No. You do not apologize.” She glanced down to his legs, where the barest hint of pale skin bruised black and the bright red of fresh blood was visible at the top of his thighs. “You did not do this. Luke – ”

Aemond pulled back, standing so quickly that the stool rattled to the floor behind him, and turned away from his wife. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall, wincing away when Arianwyn reached out to help steady him. Then, in one swift move, he tore his trousers down, the once-sturdy fabric so soaked through with rain and blood that they ripped away from his legs as easily as if they were made of parchment. He tossed the scraps away like they were an angry viper and fell against the wall with an agonized scream.

Another sob wracked through Arianwyn.

Both of Aemond’s legs were crossed with four large wounds – great ropes of night-dark bruises, three fingers thick. The bruises hid a pattern of evenly spaced cuts, which Arianwyn could only see because of the some two dozen rivulets of fresh blood trickling down from each and pooling on the marble floor beneath him.

What had they done to him?

His voice was still raw and rough when he finally spoke again, as if talking was a mighty effort – and Arianwyn knew it likely was. “Lucerys – Luke – did not do this to me,” he said. He took a single, deep breath and slowly faced her again, his eye still cast down in shame. “I did.”

Arianwyn wanted to ask a thousand questions. Why had he done this? How had he done this? Why hadn’t he told her last night? How had he endured so much pain?

Even more, she wanted – again – to call for Orwyle. These wounds were harsher and more complex than they had anticipated, and she had very little faith in her ability to treat them, even with the Grand Maester’s instructions.

Desperately, in the part of her that still lived in fear, she wanted to throw herself at her husband’s feet and weep until the entire world had changed. Until Daemon and all their enemies were long dead, and the Iron Throne was little more than a worn lump of metal. Until they were both safe and all their troubles were distant memories.

Most urgently, she wanted him to sit. His legs were shaking terribly – with all the blood painting them, they reminded her of the trembling branches of the Weirwood tree beneath which they were married.

She moved without allowing herself to think too hard about what she was doing and slipped underneath Aemond’s arm. At her touch, his breath became more ragged, and he made a slight noise of protest, but he did not pull away. He followed her silent instructions, allowing her to wrap an arm around his waist and brace his arm around her neck.

After taking a moment to thank the gods that her husband was so thin, Arianwyn tugged him away from the wall, letting him use her as a crutch to support his weight as she guided him back to the stool.

Even once he was seated, Aemond continued to shake. And though he did not speak further, tears began to spill down his cheeks.

Arianwyn wiped them away and stood to press a kiss to his forehead. “I will be right back, my love.”

“No…” Aemond whispered, his voice growing to a shout as she hurried out the door. “No! Aria! Please don’t leave me! You promised!”

The pained desperation in his voice cracked something deep in her chest, and she had to fight her heart to not immediately run back to him. But she swallowed her tears, returning to him only when she had collected what she needed.

Aemond was leaning halfway off the stool with one arm braced on the bath when she reentered the room, as though he had tried and failed to follow her. His eyes had a familiar glaze, and she suspected his shaking was no longer entirely due to his wounds.

“I told you I was coming back, love. I was not leaving you,” Arianwyn explained, laying her gathered supplies before him – a pewter teacup, Aemond’s dressing gown, and the worn green ribbon she had taken from the twin bronze swords hung above the mantle after failing to find where Elsie kept her usual hair ribbons.

“You left,” he croaked as he collapsed back onto the stool, “You left me.”

“I only went to the other room,” she pleaded, tucking his reddened hair behind his ears. “And I came back, as I always do and always will.”

He held her hands against the sides of his face, nodding furiously in agreement and apology. His skin was too cool, just as it had been the day the King died. “I was frightened.”

“There is no need to be. You are home. You are with me. And I am going to take care of you,” Arianwyn hoped her voice sounded surer than she felt. She tried to take comfort in that his coolness likely meant he had not developed a fever.

Aemond sighed dejectedly, shaking his head and causing his hair to once more fall before his face. He slowly reached for the ribbon, twisting it between his fingers as he spoke. “It is I who is supposed to care for you, as your husband.”

“You have,” she assured him, “and will continue to do so. Of that, I am sure.” She pushed his hair back again. “But today, you must let me care for you, as your wife. Please?”

His only answer was the dipping of his head to make it easier for Arianwyn to reach his hair. Once it was clear of his face, she began.

Arianwyn did not want all the blood and grime on him to dirty the bathwater – the whole point of this was to get him clean, after all. So, after setting his robe safely atop the chest of drawers near the window, she stood before him with a small cloth in one hand and the pewter cup in the other. She made a note to personally apologize to whichever servant would have to clean the mess she was about to make and began.

She started with his hair, tipping back his chin with one gentle finger before dipping the cup into the still-hot bathwater and pouring it over him. As it washed through his hair and dripped onto the stone floor beneath them, it carried some of the blood with it, but not all.

Curious, she stepped behind him before she continued, not wanting him to catch any hint of her confusion and worry that the blood would stain his silver locks. Over and over, she wet his hair, combed through it with her fingers, and rubbed at it with her cloth, and yet still, diluted red streaks remained.

Aemond looked almost at peace, his eyes closed as he leaned back into his wife’s touch. He did not smile, but at least he did not frown. But if she told him that his hair, which he always took such pride in, was stained – possibly forever – with his own blood, his tentative peace would surely break irreparably.

So, she calmly reached over his shoulder to place her hand on his, which was still fiddling restlessly with the green ribbon. Once he was in the bath, she would again try to erase the stains with his hair soaps and oils. That is if she could find them amongst the vials Orwyle had left on the bath table.

“I need to tie your hair back until you get into the bath,” she explained in a gentle whisper.

“You’re making a mess,” he replied, but he obeyed, placing the ribbon in her palm.

She waited a moment to begin wrapping his hair around her off-hand, struggling to devise a reply. “Well,” she finally said with a breathy laugh, “I’m sure the servants have cleaned up worse than this. I dare not imagine what they may have found in Aegon’s chamber over the years.”

Much to Arianwyn’s disappointment, Aemond did not laugh or smile. He did not even grace her with one of his signature hums. He merely looked back to the ceiling and sighed.

After securing his hair, she again went to stand in front of him. He did not look at her until she took hold of his face and guided him back to her. “I need to wash your face, Aemond.”

He said nothing, but there was, for only a brief moment, a slight furrow on his brow.

“It may hurt, with…” she trailed off, gesturing to the scratches on the left side of his face. “Do you want something to numb the pain?”

“No,” the word was so soft, but absolutely firm.

“Very well,” Arianwyn nodded as she took a steadying breath. She drew another cup of water and poured it over a fresh cloth until it was thoroughly damp. When she looked back at Aemond, he had already closed his eye.

He flinched when she pressed the cloth to his face, whether at the heat from the water or the sting from the contact to his wounds, he did not say.

Arianwyn kept the cloth there for several minutes to ensure the dried blood had soaked through. Only then did she remove it, prompting Aemond to take a heavy breath as he released the tension he’d been holding.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied. Not entirely true, she knew. But it was permission enough to continue.

With short, soft movements – to not reopen any wounds – Arianwyn wiped the dampened blood off his face, discarding the cloths when they became too dirty. She soon decided she would have to apologize to the laundresses too.

Once finished with his face, she kissed his right cheek briefly before continuing down his neck and chest. The areas without wounds went much faster, although once she reached the marred mess of his legs, she wished she had taken her time.

Experimentally, she pressed a fresh cloth against one of the blood-coated bruises atop his right thigh, keeping the pressure feather-light.

Still, he hissed in pain, every muscle in his body tensing.

“That hurt?” she asked.

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Badly?”

He paused, then nodded again.

Arianwyn froze with her hands still holding her cloth and the half-full teacup. The paralyzing fear that nearly overcame her when she first saw her husband’s wounds again threatened to consume her. “I don’t know what to do.”

Aemond remained as silent as stone, but he moved. He grasped her wrist – the one holding the cup – and brought it over his leg. Then, he looked Arianwyn in the eye and whispered, “Trust me.”

Then he turned the cup, spilling the water across his leg, and bit back a moan of pain.

“Aemond!” she cried, dropping her supplies and holding to him as his breathing steadied. “Why would you do that?”

“Hurts less,” he answered, though she suspected it was a lie. “And it goes faster. Continue.”

Indeed, when she looked back down at his leg, much of the blood that had been touched by the water had started to wash away. So, she continued scooping water from the bath, pouring it on him, pushing past the heartache his every gasping breath inflicted upon her, and using a cloth only on the most stubborn spots.

At last, he was clean of blood. Arianwyn had expected it would make his wounds look less gruesome. But against the paleness of his skin, each bruise and cut was more stark and even more horrible.

Tracing the smooth skin just above one of the bruises, Arianwyn could not stop herself from asking, “Why? Why did you do this?”

“I – ” Aemond started, then dropped his head and sighed. “I needed to get away from her, but the chains and the straps… they held me to the saddle, and I couldn’t get them off. Not until we landed.”

If he had been trying to free himself before they landed… the horrid realization hit Arianwyn like a blade.

Aemond had tried to kill himself.

After Luke’s death, he had wanted to throw himself from Vhagar’s back and join his nephew in the waters of Shipbreaker Bay.

Though she hated herself for it, Arianwyn began to cry. She pressed her forehead to his and wept – both at the realization that he had been so distraught that suicide seemed his only option, and from relief that those godsdamned chains had prevented it.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her, petting the back of her hair. “I am glad I failed,” he whispered. “Damned as I may be, I wish to spend every moment before being sent to the Hells by your side.”

At that, Arianwyn pulled back. “No,” she murmured through her tears, “you will not go to – ”

“I am a kinslayer, Aria!” he insisted. “I am stained in my very soul. There is nowhere I can go but the Hells.”

She only shook her head. “I do not believe that. I cannot believe that.” Aemond looked like he wanted to argue further but was too tired. “The Seven are kind. They are forgiving. They are good, and so are you! If this sin has stained your soul, then… then you must atone for it. That is all.”

Aemond looked at her skeptically, as though she had just suggested he stride through the Great Hall naked.

“Do you remember what Septon Eustace once told us?” she asked, tears beginning to dry as she stumbled upon hope – something she never thought she would have again. “He said, ‘Every sin can be forgiven, so long as the sinner truly repents and faces justice in life.’ I know you regret what happened, so all you must do is find a way to atone, justice will be fulfilled, and you will be forgiven!”

“My love… justice for kinslaying means death,” Aemond sighed. “The law demands that I be executed.”

Arianwyn quirked her head in frustration, her lips tightening as she struggled to convince him. “Your brother is the King. ‘Justice’ is whatever he determines it to be. Despite your past troubles, Aegon would never order your death.”

Aemond hung his head, squeezing her shoulder before letting his arms fall. “Aria… I am tired. And the bathwater is getting cold.”

The finality with which he spoke was surprising, but though she wanted to continue arguing, there were indeed smudges of purple beneath his eyes, and it had taken longer than she intended to get clean enough to get in the bath.

So, Arianwyn helped him stand and get into the bath, and they continued in silence.

After she finished helping Aemond bathe – he had been too tired to assist her by doing anything more than raise his arms or duck his head when prompted – Arianwyn carefully dried him with the softest and cleanest cloths she could find. Then, she draped one atop the stool for him to sit on while she worked to decipher the instructions Orwyle had left her.

“First, you must clean the wounds, so you may better assess their scope. If you believe they are severe enough to make their treatment beyond your ability, fetch me immediately. I don’t care what Prince Aemond has done or what he threatens to do to me should I enter. I just want to ensure he is well.”

Cleaning, she had already done. But assessing the wounds… Arianwyn knew so little about medicine. What, exactly, was she supposed to assess? All she could glean from their ‘scope’ was that they were awful, and must be very painful. At least none of the cuts looked particularly deep, so she would not be required to stitch them back together.

She looked to Aemond, sitting with his head bowed and eyes closed. Was he merely tired or in prayer? Usually, when he prayed, she could see his lips moving. But now, he was entirely still. Wishing that there was something she could say to him, but knowing that there was not, she instead looked back to the paper.

“Any cuts or lacerations must be cleansed with boiling wine – I have left three bottles by your hearth for this very purpose.”

Arianwyn peeked out the bathing room door to the hearth. Indeed, three bottles of clear wine were set on the mantle, and a fire had been lit in the hearth, above which hung a small, wood-handled cauldron. All she need do was pour the wine into the cauldron, wait for it to boil, and then…

She did not know how boiling wine was applied. When it had been used on her, she remembered it feeling hot but not quite boiling. And surely simply pouring it on the wounds while so hot would cause more harm than good? After again looking at Aemond and his still-shaking legs, she returned to the instructions.

“Let the wine boil for several minutes until the smell of the herbs is quite strong. I apologize, my dear, but I fear it will be rather unpleasant. Then, carefully remove it from the fire and let it cool until you can comfortably dip your finger within for as long as it takes to count to ten (do not rush your counting as you did as a child).”

Well, at least it wouldn’t be applied while actually boiling. Arianwyn turned back to Aemond, whispering his name to draw his attention. When he finally looked up at her, she continued, “I need to go in the solar for a moment. Will you be alright in here?”

He nodded once, then bowed his head again.

For every heartbeat that she was apart from him, as she waited rather impatiently for the wine to boil, Arianwyn listened for any sound from the bathing room. Either the soft sounds of crying, whispered prayers, or anything to suggest he had made the slightest movement.

She heard nothing.

And when she returned to the bathing room, cauldron in hand, Aemond looked exactly as he had when she left. He hardly even looked at her when she set the wine next to him, took a few items from Orwyle’s supplies, and sat on the floor before him. She had one more instruction to follow before applying the wine.

“Aria, before you use the wine, you must most strongly encourage Aemond to take milk of the poppy. There is a cup with lines marked in it, and I advise he drink an amount coming up to the third line. If he will not, as I suspect he will, try to at least get him to chew some willow bark. It is not as effective, but it may yet help.

“Aemond?”

He raised his head, just barely. “I’m so tired, Aria.”

“I know, my love,” she said, lacing her fingers with his. “I promise we’ll go back to bed soon. But I need to cleanse and bind your wounds first. Will you let me do that?”

After a long moment of silence, he squeezed her hand and nodded.

Arianwyn looked from the wine to the embossed glass bottle that held the milk of the poppy to the little cup Orwyle had indicated. An amount up to the third line was no little sip but rather more like a large gulp – perhaps more. When his mind went distant, Orwyle only gave him a few drops. What would this much do to him?

“Before I begin,” she took a deep breath, hating that she needed to ask this of him, “you should drink some –”

“No.”

“Aemond, Maester Orwyle said that –”

“No.”

“But –”

“I said ‘no,’ Aria!” he nearly shouted. The determined glint in his eye, harder than the strongest stone, suggested that his refusal was not entirely due to his aversion to the draught but something deeper. Darker.

Arianwyn did not want to imagine it. He had already shared a truth that had all but shattered her heart. And if she wished to remain able to continue caring for him, she must not risk breaking it beyond repair.

So, she simply set the cup and bottle aside and picked up an amber glass jar. “This is willow bark. It can also –”

“No!” Aemond seized the jar from her hands, throwing it with all his sapped strength across the room, the glass cracking loudly as it hit the stone wall. “I don’t need anything! Just…” he slumped on the stool, rubbing at his eye, “just hurry. The wine will cool soon.”

She followed his eye to the steaming pot. Of course, he knew what it was, what it was for, and how it was used. After spending weeks – or months – in the Rookery tower after Driftmark, he could probably give Arianwyn instructions himself. Perhaps he could even earn his own silver chain at the Citadel, citing his time with Orwyle as instruction. He had once entertained the idea of becoming a Maester, as she had. But where her dreams were snuffed out by her sex, Aemond’s were crushed by a stern conversation with his grandsire, which he never fully disclosed the detail of, not even to her.

He knew how painful cleansing the wounds would be, and he still did not want relief.

But Arianwyn would try one last time. She could not simply inflict that much pain on her husband. So, she squeezed his hand, stared into his eye, and pleaded with him. “My love, please. I do not want to hurt you.”

Aemond returned her gaze, his eye half-lidded. He did not seem concerned about what was about to be done to him. “Sweet Aria,” he murmured, stroking her cheek as he gave her the closest thing to a smile she had seen since finding him below the broken mirror. “You will not hurt me. You never could.”

The words were spoken with such surety, though there was also a sadness that Arianwyn could not decipher the source of. It was as if he had told her a riddle she had no hope of answering.

But then he guided their clasped hands down towards the wine and the small stack of cloths next to it. “Soak the cloth fully,” he instructed, “then press out some – but not all – of the excess.”

Orwyle’s instructions said almost precisely the same thing.

Arianwyn obeyed, submerging the folded cloth in the wine, now cool enough that she could leave her finger in for longer than a count of ten, then pressed it between her palms until it barely dripped.

“Where should I begin?” she asked, running her eyes across all of his many wounds.

Aemond lowered his head and turned so his scarred side– the side he had again ripped open with his own hands – was facing her. “Here.”

She raised herself onto her knees, wrapping one arm around his shoulder to grip the back of his neck to keep him steady. When she took a deep, anchoring breath, Aemond breathed with her, so perfectly in harmony they could have been one soul.

Then she pressed the wine-soaked cloth to his face.

He did not scream or flinch as droplets of wine began to spill down his chin. While he did tense, and his breath immediately deepened, he held the cloth in place with a hand on Arianwyn’s wrist and pressed further into it.

After silently counting to five, as the instructions said, she moved to pull away, but Aemond held firm.

“To the count of ten,” he hissed.

“Orwyle said only five,” she countered. But he held her in place, his gaze locked with hers, until he had finished his count.

Only then did he release her. “Five is for the battlefield,” he said between heaving breaths, “We are not on a battlefield, and these are not battle wounds. Orwyle is trying to spare me pain.”

Arianwyn folded another cloth and submerged it in the wine, then looked up at Aemond with tears in her eyes. “You do not wish to be spared unnecessary pain?”

For a moment, he almost looked regretful. Then his jaw set in unwavering determination. “I do not.”

She did not argue as she laid the new cloth across the first of the wounds on his left leg. Again, he tensed and sucked in a harsh breath but made no other sound. This time, she counted to ten before removing the cloth, hating every moment, every number.

Though she hated herself even more for the question she was about to ask.

But it had to be now. She did not know when he would again feel well enough to talk rather than stay indefinitely in self-imposed silence. And she wanted the first time to be with just her, without the pressures his mother and the Small Council would place upon him.

So, before laying another cloth on the next wound, she lifted his chin with a finger. She met his shadowed eye and asked unevenly, “Aemond, what happened?”

The shadows seemed to spread. Not only across his face but over the whole room. As if the sun itself had no desire to hear what the Prince would say next.

When Aemond finally replied, Arianwyn had applied and removed two more cloths – he did not react to either. His voice was low, so quiet that she had to strain to hear, and it held a hollow quality. It did not contain the same careful pronunciation she was so used to, nor did it sound as lyrical as when he read to her. It was just… empty.

“I went to Storm’s End,” he said, looking not at his wife but at the intersection of two stone tiles on the floor next to where she sat. “I obtained the loyalty of House Baratheon and arranged a match between Daeron and Lord Borros’ youngest daughter.”

His brow furrowed, and his lips pursed slightly. “I had finally done something,” he nearly spat. “After all these years, I finally had the chance to do something real for my family and the realm, other than stand behind my father or brother. Something to make them proud and prove to everyone – every person who hates and reviles me for being the One-Eyed Prince – that I was more than that. More the monstrous spare son resentful of his fate to die in battle on Aegon’s behalf or to dutifully serve him as my King and never claim anything for myself.

“Yes, I have occasionally entertained the idea that I am better suited for the throne than Aegon. But they are only ever thoughts. I have never once acted on them or even truly wanted to,” he looked pointedly away from Arianwyn – she already knew that he had encountered an opportunity to take the throne for himself and been tempted to take it. But still, he had refused. “If I did this, won Storm’s End, they would all know it. That I was happy to serve my brother – proud to fulfill my duty.”

“But…” The skin around his missing eye visibly twitched, and he quirked his head several times in response before continuing. “Just when it was finally in my grasp, he came to take it all away from me again!”

There was no questioning who ‘he’ was – it could only be Luke.

“The same way he took away everything that made me happy that night on Driftmark. My joy at finally claiming my birthright. Whatever measly shreds of my father’s love and respect that I once had. My eye.” Aemond suddenly snapped his head up, looking at Arianwyn so intensely that she almost shied away. His hand flung out to grip the side of her face, his fingers weaving tightly into her hair while his thumb tenderly stroked her cheek. “Like he took you. And he got away with it! By the gods, he was never even scolded for it! I couldn’t let him take any more. I wouldn’t.

“My anger at what he had done and my fear that he would somehow take it all away again… consumed me. I demanded too much, I know it. I went too far. I did not think. But I swear, I never meant for this to happen.” He tugged a little on Arianwyn’s head, a silent pleading. She blinked and nodded, letting him know she believed him – that she would always believe him.

Still, his frown only grew. “I just wanted… well, it doesn’t matter what I wanted anymore. The reason doesn’t matter.” Aemond dropped his hand, and the skin where his hand had laid on her cheek seemed to burn cold from the loss.

Aemond looked away again before continuing. “I killed him. He was my nephew, and I killed him. So I am cursed – damned. I have proven myself the monster that everyone else already knew I was.” He shook his head and made a sound almost like a wry scoff. “They were always right. It seems I was the only one who did not know it.”

Then, he fell silent.

Arianwyn felt as though time had stopped, trapping her in this horrible moment. It was only when the sun streaming in through the sheer silk curtains finally rose to shine on Aemond’s face. Immediately, he turned away, as though he could not stand to have the light upon him.

Realizing that she would have to reboil the wine if she did not continue her work now, Arianwyn dipped another cloth into the cauldron and laid it across another strip of wounds.

“You are not a monster, Aemond,” she whispered as she counted in her head.

“I am.”

“No!” Aemond opened his mouth to insist that he was, but Arianwyn pushed down on the cloth to stop him. “You regret what happened to Luke and what you did to Kiran. Monsters do not regret their actions; they revel in them. Like my father. You have made mistakes, but you are still good.”

He dropped his head to touch their foreheads together, but he made no reply.

So, as the silence overtook them once more, Arianwyn continued to try and heal her husband.

Next Chapter

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angellayercake · 2 years ago

Text

Eating with the sinners

Papa Emeritus IV x Father Jim DeFroque | NSFW/MDNI | AO3

When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Mark 2:16-17

'Blah blah Jim is bad' Yes I am well aware thank you and that is why he is so fun to write. Let the religious corruption kink fandom enjoy some damn good religious corruption please and thank you. If it isn't for you just keep scrolling or click the handy dandy back button. And if it is for you please enjoy :)

He groaned as he felt it dripping down his face, he was so close just needed something, a little bit more. Alone, knelt in the middle of the stadium under a beam of light desperate to find his completion. He heard him before he saw him. His measured steps echoing in the vast empty space.

‘Seeking absolution Father?’ The Italian lilt of his deep voice never failed to send a shiver down his spine. He thought he had left him at the bar when these nice gentlemen had invited him to join their team building activity but apparently not.

‘Seeking somethin that's for sure.’ His own voice came out breathier than he liked but given his current preoccupation it was what it was. He let out a moan as he reached down to massage his balls as he continued the steady rhythm on his cock, thumbing the head on every up stroke.

The white eye, unnerving under normal circumstances, practically shone in the darkness as he watched, he always watched, never participated. If there ever was a time Jim wished that would change it was right now. Closing his eyes he whispered a prayer. ‘Let him help me, Lord, find completion in your name. So that I may honour you with my body as I do with my soul.’

He was wrung out, his work never over. His days were spent ministering to the faithful, the successful, helping them to the light through their generosity with the guidance of the Lord and his word. But his nights spent reaching out to the damned, thanks to the guidance of this man. To help them he had to understand them, delve into the depths of their depravity and then bring them back to peace. The responsibility was a burden but one he bore gladly if it meant returning sinners to the fold of the Almighty.

And how could he not when he was following the example of Christ himself. When he had first met this man, the Italian with a spark in his eye, an interest in the Lord that rivalled Jim’s own and tight tight trousers, he had questioned why a man of the cloth would spend his time with such company. ‘Those who are healthy have no need for a physician, but those who are sick do. John 5:31.’ He had told him. He had simply nodded and Jim knew then that they were on the same mission.

‘Our Lord would be so proud of you, Father, bringing all those people to sin.’ His motion stuttered as he heard him speak but he must have misheard. He was so close now, almost close enough that Jim could reach out and touch him. Redoubling his efforts on his own cock he watched the material around his crotch stretch and tighten around his obvious arousal. ‘Ensuring their souls are condemned.’

‘To heaven?’ What else could he mean? They were men of God weren’t they? Learning the ways of the sinners so they may deliver them from evil because you can not defeat evil if you do not understand it.

‘No Father,’ He laughs but doesn’t elaborate instead grabbing the back of his head, fingers clenching in his hair and forcing his head up at an uncomfortable angle until all he can see is eyes. He can feel the hardness now where his chin is pressed into his crotch and he can't help but whine at all the sensation as he continues pulling away frantically at his cock. The pleasure and the high all clouding his mind, the topic of their brief conversation slipping from him.

‘You have never resisted a temptation in your life have you Father?’ He asks as he pulls back working the laces of his trousers loose to free his erection. It’s thick and red and already weeping and all Jim can think of is tasting him.

‘He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.’ Even as distracted as he is, the scripture slides from his tongue as though he was standing in front of his congregation.

‘Corinthians 10:13? I don’t think this is quite what He meant but if you wish to endure I can help with this.’ He uses the grip on his hair to drag him closer and angle his head so he slides straight into his mouth and down his throat.

‘People like you Father, you are the problem. You preach and you take and you judge and you condemn. You think that because you can quote the bible, because you whisper your silly apologies in prayer that you are good.’ If he could concentrate on anything other than the cock in his mouth he wouldn’t like what he was hearing but he was powerless to reply while getting fucked so thoroughly and he couldn’t resist the urge to swallow around the intrusion taking him as deep as he could.

‘Forgive me Father for I let a whore give me road head? Forgive me Father for snorting coke off of your book? Forgive me Father for letting eight strapping young men come on my face? Forgive me Father for misleading your so say faithful and using their donations to fund my excess? He may forgive all of that I suppose, I do not know.’ He punctuated each question with a hard deep thrust that had Jim scratching at his thighs and gagging around his thick cock.

‘Will your God forgive you for letting the Antichrist fuck your face?’ If he could think he would be ashamed of how he came thrusting against his shin as he ripped his face away from him leaving him gasping for air and drooling. He falls to the floor without the firm grip keeping him upright, landing in the puddle of his own spend.

‘What about this one Father?’ He grunts as he takes himself in hand. ‘The one who does what is sinful is of the devil, because the devil has been sinning from the beginning. John 3:8.’ He grunts as he finally comes adding to the stripes painting Jim's already soiled face. He jumps as each stream lands, the words finally sinking in as he scrambles back from the man standing above him, reaching under his shirt for his crucifix but finding it missing.

‘Looking for this Father?’ The chain is twisted around his fingers, the cross dangling in between swaying in a hypnotising rhythm and as it sways the figure of Christ twists and warps until all he can is a serpent, fangs bared and ready to lunge.

‘What are you?’ He hisses, voice cracking in fear and from the recent misuse of his throat, hands gripping at himself to try and erase what he had just done as the man laughs at him. He pulls open the collar of his shirt and it is there in black and white, over his heart, the mark of the beast.

‘I am the Devil, I suppose,’ his pointed teeth glint in the weak beam of light as he leans over, pinning him in place with his gaze, the horrid white eye seeming to pierce into his very soul. ‘Your sinning Father, it was so deviant, so twisted. I had to come and see for myself.’

‘No, NO!’ He finds the strength to get to his knees somehow and starts to pray even as he feels the the effects of the night start to take a toll on his body. He will not let the devil take him now. ‘Father in the name of Jesus Christ. I plead with you to break any chain that the devil has on me…’ A loud evil laugh cuts through his prayers and he falters, strength failing as he falls to the floor once more.

‘And Jesus said unto him, ‘Away from me Satan! For it is written, worship the Lord your God and serve only him’ Matthew 4:10.’ But the devil before him just continued to laugh, the grating sound ringing around the space and echoing in his mind. He presses his hands over his ears to block it out as he staggers backwards and away.

‘I have not influenced you Father, I am just here to honour one of my most loyal subjects.’ He feels those talented fingers scratch through his soiled hair working through where it has begun to matt and dry and he almost almost succumbs to the touch but no, he is stronger than this he knows and he must never bow to the devil. He pushes the hand away rising to his feet, feeling righteous energy coursing through him. He knew he was right, that he was doing the Lord's work. This was just a test of his faith, a test that he must pass.

‘Begone, Demon!’ He spits hoping it sounds as full of conviction as he feels. But the other man just laughs once again as he leaves. He laughs and laughs and laughs as he backs away, almost disappearing into the darkness except for that god forsaken white eye.

‘It’s a little bit late for that, don't you think Father?’ He follows with a measured swinging step so calm even as he makes an obscene gesture at his crotch. ‘Jesus said no before I had the chance to get my dick out.’ He can only shake his head in disbelief. No he would not accept what this foul creature was saying but he runs out of time, his back hitting the wall and then that thing was pressed up against him. He has to suppress a shiver at his proximity, his body not having caught up to what had been revealed this night. ‘You took me so well Jim don’t you want to do it again?’ He feels his voice as much as hears it and knows he must not fail here. This is the true temptation.

I hope you enjoyed the food @tasty-ribz and thank you @ghostchems for your help as always 💜

‘I’ll be seeing you Jim.’ He crushes down the jolt of something he feels at the prospect. He has been tested this night and by the Grace of God he has passed. He must continue on his course and bring the light of his Lord to all sinners. Smoothing down his shirt and righting his collar he checks his watch, just enough time to get back for morning mass and to his faithful flock. ‘For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to those of us being saved it is the power of God. Corinthians 1:18.’

#Papa Emeritus IV x Father Jim #Jim DeFroque #Father Jim #Papa Emeritus IV #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #my writing

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bluejaysandblackbats · 8 months ago

Text

Wild Eyes

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Rogues

Summary: This is an AU where Jason ends up in Peña Dura with Bane after stowing away on a boat trying to escape Gotham.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Bane DC, Jason Todd, Birdy, Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Parent Bane (DCU), Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Unconventional Families, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Chapter One: Peña Dura

I was twenty-two when someone smuggled a castaway into my home. The prison. He was a child. Most men would've thought the child was better off dead, but I thought differently. If he could survive the waters that brought him to Santa Prisca, he'd more than earned the right to receive help. I refused to let him die. "He won't make it through the night," Bird whispered, "I don't know why you waste your time—."

"I spend my days as I please," I whispered as I tended to the child's wounds. "And I disagree... He'll live. You'll see." The child burned with fever, but I would not give up on him.

The child opened his eyes briefly, grabbing my wrist with both hands as he opened his mouth. He wanted to speak to me. Tell me something... But he lost consciousness. He struggled against his sickness for days, and everyone believed he would succumb to his fever. I knew different.

My clothes swallowed him, but I was sure they'd keep him warm through the night. I slept on the floor beside my bed, waking at his every shiver and whine. I woke him up for breakfast and tried to push him to eat. "No—."

"Eat," I commanded. The boy grabbed my wrist with both hands. The look in his eye was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Wild. Untamed. Fierce.

Lightning struck the prison, knocking the power out, and we sat in my cell, staring at one another. His hair plastered against his forehead as illness seeped through his flesh. He wanted to speak. To protest. In the dark of my cell, it was the child's will against my own, and he was unafraid. "Pain," the boy whispered through clenched teeth, and then he released me from his grip. The boy lost consciousness, and my breath returned to me.

"He's not going to make it, Bane," Bird muttered.

"He'll live. I saw it in his eyes," I replied. My eyes were still fixed on the child. "He's stubborn."

And I was right. The boy fought his fever for several days, and on the fourth morning since his arrival, I felt his eyes. I turned to see him standing behind me, reading over my shoulder. "I've read it before... Would you like me to start from the beginning?" I offered. His legs gave, and I caught him. "Sit with me... You're still weak."

He didn't fight with me or protest. Instead, the boy sat quietly on my knee while I read the book aloud from the beginning. Halfway through the first chapter, I received my meal, and we ate together. "I'm Jason… Sorry for eating your food," Jason whispered.

"It's nothing," I replied. Jason was too small to eat a meal by himself. He was no burden to me in that respect.

I liked him. I wanted him to see that. "Where do you come from?"

"Gotham... Where am I?" Jason asked.

"Santa Prisca... Peña Dura," I answered, "You're far from home... When I get to Gotham someday, who should I return you to?"

"I don't have anybody to go home to," Jason mumbled, "But maybe I could show you around when you get there." I smiled.

"I would have it no other way, my friend," I replied.

"What's your name?" Jason asked.

"Bane. What is your name?" I questioned.

"Jason... I'm eleven years old," Jason paused, staring into my eyes before he continued. "And you're the man who saved my life."

"Jason, I didn't do anything. You fought for your life... And you won," I replied.

We talked for hours that day. He told me about movies and music and buildings so ancient, so ornate, and arcane that they seemed like a thing of dreams. Jason intrigued me. I think he intrigued Bird as well. "My church is so huge, and the windows are stained glass... They finally got the bell fixed-. Are you Catholic?" Jason wondered.

"My faith is nothing compared to yours," I replied, "But I suppose I am."

"God doesn't compare... He only loves," Jason whispered. His words were pure. Untainted by ulterior motives or feigned kindness. Jason meant what he said... And it gave me comfort.

As the months passed, Jason and I were inseparable. He imitated my behaviors, learned my ways, and with time, I shared my innermost thoughts with him. Jason understood that prison was only a state of mind. He never verbalized this belief, but his actions showed me he could not be imprisoned. Jason was free.

“My church has fruit trees as far as the eye can see and horses roaming free… There’s a lake, and the nuns are all kind. They smile a lot,” Jason whispered.

"My church is a home for all the children the world forgot. My church has no locks or gates. My church is freedom and warmth,” I whispered as Jason curled into a ball beside me. It was a game we played together at night. We described imaginary churches. I suppose most people would’ve thought I kept Jason around as a form of entertainment, but I didn’t. I’d grown to love him as a father would love a son, and I was unwilling to turn him away. He would be beside me in the world I built. He would be the prince of a new era in Gotham. The son they discarded like trash would rise above and become king.

“You don’t belong in prison. You would’ve made a good foster father,” Jason whispered. I looked at him for clarification. “A foster father… When kids lose their parents or when parents lose their kids-. They’re temporary family placements until kids could go home, or sometimes kids that don’t go home get adopted, and the foster family becomes their real family.”

“Could I have been your foster father?” I questioned. “Would you have wanted that?”

“Of course, I would’ve. I would’ve been lucky to have you around. I never would’ve run away if I had somebody like you,” Jason replied, “You’re nicer to me than my father was. Your church sounds like a good foster home...”

“I’d like you to be my son,” I whispered. They were the only words that managed to escape my mouth. Jason looked up at my expression and nodded.

“I’d like you to be my father,” Jason replied, shutting his eyes. I pulled my blanket over his shoulders. “I love you, Bane.”

I swallowed his words. Love. And he meant it. Unselfish love. “And I love you,” I whispered.

Jason drifted away sweetly beside me while I sat beside him, planning. I would rebuild Gotham for both of us. A place where he would never be cold or afraid or forgotten. Gotham would be our church. I moved his curls from his face, watching his expression soften. His chest rose and fell with every breath, and he murmured something in his sleep like a prayer.

#fic #wild eyes fic #batfam #batman rogues #Bane DC #Jason Todd #Birdy #Bruce Wayne #Parent Bane (DCU)#Canon Divergent AU #Father-Son Relationship #Jason Todd is Not Red Hood #Unconventional Families #Emotional Hurt/Comfort

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naresnani · 1 year ago

Text

Overture

Fandom: Ikemen Prince | Nokto Klein/Adam Kain (OC) | Words: 880

Tags: Jealousy, Bodyguard/valet AU

Summary:

I am not a jealous man. I do not feel strongly towards people.

Notes: Supposed to be for @xxsycamore 's AU event... right? is that still going on? well anyway...

If I ever were to fancy somebody I shouldn't, it is trivial to simply abandon those feelings and let go. It's been easier that way, and none was ever the wiser.

Some light sounds of laughter were being carried by the evening wind. A pair. I stayed behind. Higher up the rose hill. It was a cool evening with petals fluttering around me while the sky turned a warm colour. The breeze lifted up my sweat. I couldn't feel the sun. The prince and his maiden squeezed each other's hands. Their whispers couldn't reach me.

It feels wrong, but it's my job to watch him. It's been my job for years. Five, maybe seven. Since I left my tribe I've never known anything else. From writing his letters to dressing his wounds to dressing him in the morning. From a clueless lad to the only one who knows of all his needs.

I am paid well. I am respected. Although he doesn't always make my work easy, he's fortunate that I do care for him. I do, beyond what they paid me to.

I don't think anyone else would care for him if it isn't me.

"I can't let you go through with this. My… heart wouldn't let me."

"Adam, all you need to do is pick me up outside the building and ride. Do you have no faith in me?"

"I do. But my faith holds no water in what will actually occur. Please, your Highness, look for another way. You cannot be more needlessly reckless."

"...I revealed all my plans to you because I trust you. You're someone I trust the most. No one else would do this for me but you."

"Then let me come with you!"

"No!"

"Why? What difference would it make?"

"I'm someone they can't hurt. I could walk out of there without a single worry in my life whether or not I succeed. You, on the other hand, have a bright future ahead of you."

"What do you mean by that, what are you saying?"

This maiden. She's a commoner, here for purposes I am not privy of. He's different. She's not like the other women he's had taken with him. He doesn't play around or use her. He is smitten by her looks. He told me so. He's smitten by her voice and laughter and by the way she does care for him. She caresses his hair and she reads to him at night and she allows herself this. He lays his head down her lap and he allows himself this. He is smitten.

He took her near one of the rose bushes and hid her face in his hands. I avert my eyes. I shouldn't be allowed to follow them this far…

The rose hill is too large even for a hundred people, much less an individual. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm too large and too small. I hear too much and too little. I'm curious, and I'm sick to death of them. If I could leave I would. His laughter is the only sound that reached me. I'm sick.

He always has his way with words. He's too kind, too caring. He "trusts you the most." He misleads people all the time, who was I kidding? He "likes the company." He "likes having you at all times." He "wants you to feel like you belong." He, "If you have nowhere else to be, then I want you to be with me."

"Adam…"

"It's me, I made it. I mean… you did."

"Where are we?"

"You took the antidote too late, your Highness. You took them too late, my God. It could've been it. It could've been… If it weren't for…."

"You made it."

"The doctor got to you just in time, I could have been too late. I'm sorry. Please, please don't ever do this again. I can't do this again."

"I told you, I trust you with my life, and I was right."

"Please don't… not me."

"Hahahah… who else?"

They're all just words. I should never have allowed myself this delusion, that he even slightly cares for me beyond how much he paid me. Yet who could blame me? I've carried him on the verge of his death after he ingested that poison. I didn't sleep for a week, I never left his bedside. I changed his clothes, I cleaned him. I've once fought till my blood beat out of me for him. I've killed for him. I've loved him. I couldn't do any of it without some form of love. Does anyone? Can anyone?

I didn't think anyone else would love him if it wasn't me.

"Adam, what are you doing here?"

He was right behind, the maiden still tailing him.

"Ah, I apologise. I thought you should have your own space."

"Me and Emma are going to the city. Do you have somewhere else to be?"

I do not, of course.

"I'll take your Highness there, don't worry."

They smile. Seeing them happy, content, I do not feel any bitterness, nor sadness. I don't really feel anything. I don't think I'm a jealous man, nor do I feel strongly towards people.

#ikepri adam #ikepri nokto #ikepri

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gidakata · 1 year ago

Text

"...my, what a strange woman indeed..." HORROR FIC & AU NAVIGATION (MULTI-FANDOM) (PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18. PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU DO NOT LIKE RPF. DDDNE WARNING FOR GENERAL HORROR CONTENT, DUBIOUS MORALS, OCCASIONAL SMUT, ETC. ALWAYS READ TAGS, ALWAYS READ WARNINGS.)

𝓐𝓤𝓼

Stray Kids heart to heart (Minsung) I'm Haunted By Your Love (Minsung)

BTS TBA

Krnb & Khh TBA TBA TBA

𝓕𝓲𝓬𝓼 Stray Kids Spiral. Nothing But Trouble Rosario Angel's Trumpet Angel's Trumpet 2022 AMANITA. I Care Too Much About You I Let The Wrong One Go. Suddenly, I'm Drowning I Don't Recognize You Anymore. All I Need To Feel If I Want To Stay Alive, You Should Never Cross My Mind. To Reach The Next Morning Feeling My Faith Erode (with @btchbtchna) Baby Can't You See...? Just Follow Your Eyes Don't Let Me Die Here A Blade Of Grass Where Is My Mind? Need A Reference Photo? PANDORA [DISCONTINUED] Whisper heart to heart (fic ver.) Even Expression Is A Luxury (incomplete) hesperidium. (incomplete) Series Twitter Drabbles Backed-Up GORETOBER Interactive Fics VORACIOUS BTS TBA Khh & Krnb TBA

TBA TBA

#navigation #navi #fanfic #horror fanfiction #kpop #kpop rpf #more to be added #dividers by benkeibear #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #tags will be added #ao3 author #ao3fic #ao3 #horror #multi #masterlist

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t3kandson · 2 years ago

Text

Almost

Wordcount; 2,449

Fandom; Monsta X

Pairing; Reader X Lee Hoseok aka Wonho & Reader X Yoo Kihyun.

Characters; Lee Hoseok & Yoo Kihyun

Warnings; Angst, Cheating after affects, Oral (receiving) & Protected Sex.

Note last chapter of Part one of Youth of No Regrets, earlier chapters found here

Kihyun’s paled but panicky face pushed Soyeon away was the affects of his guilt. You was so numb you couldn’t even contemplate what you was witnessing. Yet when Hoseok was seconds behind you, his comforting hands resting on your shoulder, his harsh words of recent weeks wasn’t functioning. Hoseok stormed towards his friend leaving the tears from your eyes to fall upon the floor. You took no time in getting out that building willing to go any where that wasn’t connected with any of those members.

You feet dashed till they was sore that you couldn’t walk any further, you pulled your phone that you had turned off back on, the phone going like crazy as texts spilled through.

You needed somewhere safe and secure from all the drama, you needed your mum. Tears falling as you dialled the taxi company determined to get away from this hell for a couple of days. Switching your phone off as soon as you entered the taxi you left your problems behind.

Your weekend become a week which then became two. The thought of not returning back to Soeul heavily on your mind as you sat in the taxi on your way home. But nothing prepared you for the Roses helping to prevent you from entering your apartment. You pushed at the door, the roses that clearly had been posted through piling up just sat there. Some of them looked as if they had started decaying, which told you that someone had been delivering them daily. You sat on the table and rooted in your bag for your mobile, breathing deeply you turned it on.

Five minutes it sat there buzzing as messages piled through. As if it was telling them the phone was on, Hoseok’s name flashed as he attempted to call. Your heart fell as you watched the flashing screen, letting the phone drop to the table, you knew you should have got a new number.

Switching the phone back off as you went to the fridge, Kihyun’s bottle of Soju was still there as the hurt of his betrayal set in. Picking the bottle up you threw it to the floor letting the glass shatter as tears fell. Why did you have to come back? Being away meant that you could put them both to the back of your mind. Now you was home your emotions was ploughing through you that you felt suffocated.

You slid to the floor, the shards of glass around you as you pulled your knees towards to rest your head as you sobbed.

Your pity party was disturbed as The door which didn’t shut correctly opened. Hoseok’s slightly visible worried face viewing your tears as he dashed towards you. “Don’t, please go,” you said weakly as he fell to his knees looking at the destruction on the floor. “Are you hurt?” He questioned with fear as you shook your head. “But your not ok,” he said testing his hand on your shoulder. “Where did you go we’ve all been so worried about you?” he asked. “I went home,” you whispered as he tilted his head to look at you which fell at his eye contact. Hoseok stood up, his muscular legs taking your view as he smiled softly. “Where’s your dustpan & brush?” He asked, earning a finger in the direction of the item. You continued to sit there as you watched him brush the glass up in pure silence.

When he finished he slumped next to you, his head resting against the freezer door. “Why did you run away?” Hoseok asked into the Silence. “Because I needed time to think,” you whispered. “If you had waited for Kihyun,” , “don’t I don’t want to talk about him,” you cut him off standing up. “But serious it’s not as bad as you think it is,” He said joining you. “What getting off with another girl, a girl who’s done nothing but Bitch at me behind my back. And for what, to take my feelings away from you to offer me a relationship that he couldn’t even be faithful in,” you ranted. Hoseok went to cut you off but he bit his lips paling.

“Take your feelings away from me?” He questioned tilting his head. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know I had fallen for you,” you shouted that made him slightly jolt back. “I knew you liked me but not fallen for me?,” Hoseok admitted. “Your such a liar,” you accused as his face lit up with a slight smile. “Oh I know I was driving you crazy, like you drive me crazy too, but not that you let your feelings explode for me,” he said smirking devilishly. “Explode is a bit extreme,” you smiled in his view. “Does Kihyun make you Explode in feeling?” He asked as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m not talking about him,” you growl as you turn your back. “Sorry,” he said wrapping his arms around you his comfort highly enticing you. “You shouldn’t be here either,” you said closing your eyes to his heavy panting in your ear. “Why I’m comforting my friend, the one who’s falling for me,” he whispers making your thighs tighten. “Yes the one who’s kinda dating your friend?” You scoff fighting the urge to turn to smoulder him in kisses. “The one you don’t want to talk about, the one you ran from,” he said brushing his lips softly on your neck. “Yeah that one,” you moaned to the feeling of his wet lips on your skin.

The chemistry burning through your body, every time emotion for Kihyun appeared was being zapped away by each kiss he made on you. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Hoseok moaned whispering in your hearing that has your ass resting along his hardened bulge. He was giving you a chance to back out from the mistake you both was about to make. He spun you around to face him on the hope you both could snap from it, but instead you felt yourselves slot together.

Every emotion you shared for him pulsating through your mind. From the way his hands touched your body, when he used you to show the room the fluid movements he was expecting. The moment where you wanted to kiss him in the stream while camping. Your eyes brushing on your blood stained hands as he held them as you was dashed to the hospital, his slight panic yet also calmness words reassuring you. He bit his lips erotically as your eyes brushed through the memory to the jealousy you processed when he and Soyeon was dancing erotically. But your core burning when he chose you instead, the joy deep in the discomfort drilling your memories core. Was you in love with this man? Where was Kihyun? you was sure you loved him too. Hoseok brushed his thumb on your lips snatching your thoughts for Kihyun away as he leaned towards you.

You didn’t give him a chance, fisting his T-shirt and pulling him against you, smashing his lips against yours he chuckled into the sudden movement. “Fuck, we’re so bad,” he panted, “but this is too good to stop,” he added between the kisses where you both settled into depriving oxygen from each other. Hands reaching to your jeans as it clumsily fumbled with the buttons, desire clearly showing you he wanted every inch of your skin. “Do you need help there baby?” you panted releasing his lips from your attack. “I got it,” he scoffed lightly biting the bottom of your lip, as he released the buttons letting the material fall to the floor.

“Y/N oh my god your more delicious then I imagined, I’m a little too scared to see those naked boobies,” he said looking like he was slightly dribbling.

“Shut up,” you said lightly slapping his chest which hardness took you by surprise as always. “No seriously baby, your delish, now let’s try not to kill me too hard ok,” he said winking lifting on the material of your upper clothing.

Biting hard down on his teeth leaving indents told you of his struggle as he prised the last item from your skin. “Fuck,” he whimpered, his hands immediately falling to his member that was pressed against his shorts. “Hey you been allowed the view, where’s my Greek god,” you hummed excitedly as you pouted his way. “Greek god,” he raised his eyebrow, “you might be disappointed I think then,” he scoffed showing a slight vulnerability you had never witnessed. “Shut up and strip,” you said ordering as he smirked devilishly.

He teasingly removed his T-shirt letting his rippled muscles choke you. You had seen him topless before, you had seen him with barely any clothing in fact. But each time you viewed his physique, it crushed your windpipes. However, when he was standing with the same thin material you had witnessed already, your mouth salivated with excitement in anticipation. He’s impressive chunky length hitting his stomach as he exposed himself had the blood rushing to your head. You wasn’t shamed to admit your head was fuzzy as your slick started to coat your thighs in excitement.

“Told you no Greek god here,” he smirked as he slowly pumped himself. “No, your far more,” you gasped throwing yourself in to his direction letting him stumble with a belly deep chuckle. “Calm down baby,” you suckled down, your lips not wanting to release. Your hands brushing his member as you felt the warmth rod beneath your palms, pumping him with a heavy need.

“I’ve been teased for so long I need to fuck you,” you plead growling. “No complaints from me,” he replies smirking as he lifts your legs around his waist, his member hitting against yours as he sits you on the window ledge. “But first just a taste,” he growls nipping at your flesh of your thighs.

“Hoseok,” you cry as he stifles his chuckle. He fans his hot breath along your naked core as you clench your hands around the wood of the ledge, not caring that your back was exposed to the outside world. Licking a strip up your folds has you moan against his wet muscle in a movement that he continues repeatedly. Your core burning with need to his teasing torture, enjoying the juices flowing as he collected your essence with each lap. “Hoseok please,” you cry when you felt like you might lose your mind. “I need your cock,” you cry moving your pelvis against his tongue. “My baby sure she can handle it? My fingers could help you prep,” he chuckles at your impatience.

“I don’t care I’ll be fine, I just need your cock,” you cry out as he takes one last torturous lick of your heat. He stands holding the condom he seemingly got from nowhere and before you can question its origin, he has himself covered ready to break you open. “Baby I’m all for public sex, but I think we’ve risked that enough,” he says lowering you from the window.

As he sits down on the chair, he hovers you over his member before his lips take to yours once more. Positioning yourself you take the head of him, feeling the stretch and feeling foolish for avoiding his offered preparations. Cry’s spilling from your lips, you pushed yourself down his stilling member as his fingers rush to your clit to help you relax around him.

When you fully taken him, his fingers brush up your spine making your back arch as your core bites down on his shaft, earning moans to fall. You fall into a rhythm around his hardened member as your lips return to his. Tongues and teeth clashing as you get lost in the moment.

The feeling of his shaft pulsating as you bounce on him has you both kiss down each other’s moans. His large hands take to your waist as he begins to help you as you slow you pace a little. Slamming you down onto him, has him brushing the tip against your cervix that has you crying out. Sounds of clashing skins, squelches of the juices flowing from your session added to the moans, is heavenly against your ears. You can feel your orgasm chase, not helped by his tight grip as you begin to lose your mind to his thrusts.

“I’m going to,” you pause losing your words as nails dig into his flesh as your being fucked senselessly on his cock. “Let go baby, let go,” he cry’s himself as you feel his thighs shake. Teeth digging into his collar bone breaks him as he cums into his protection inside of you. His twitching cock pushing you over yours as you cry his name loud as you fall into euphoria.

You lay panting on your bed, Hoseok’s fingers entangled with yours as you catch your breath. Not knowing how long it’s been since you’ve seen outside the room, you watched as his fingers left you to check his phone. Both of you avoiding the topic of Kihyun or what this meant for you, fear that what ever this was would have to come to an end.

“We been at it for six hours are you not hungry?” He chuckled. “Very hungry,” you hum as you roll in between his legs kissing his chest. “Baby we need to eat dinner before dessert,” he teases before pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “I’ll order something,” he smiled as he started tapping onto his phone.

Your lips moving down his chest as you lowered towards his softened member before being suddenly disturbed. Jolting up he murmured a slight cry as your eyes washed to his worried ones. “I’m sure the food options can’t be that bad,” you smile sitting up as he leapt off the bed in fear. He looked like he needed to run from what ever situation he had found himself in. Your heart instantly understanding when he passed the phone to your hands.

Kihyun in dating scandal with former Monsta x member’s Dancer.

Was written in the headlines, two photos of you and Kihyun in compromising positions. Firstly one of you kissing in the car when he dropped you off to your schedule the day after you started dating. The second was a photo of you and Kihyun arms holding you tightly in his, in the corridor of the company.

You relationship with Kihyun was exposed to the world, you feared being a scandal to Hoseok, but never contemplated that you could do the same to Kihyun. You could cost him his dream job and on top of that you had betrayed him further by banging his friend.

Previous Chapters

Masterlist

Hope you’ve enjoy part one of this series. Was hoping to have the second part written but been really poorly recently in and out of hospital but hopefully I can get it written before spring.

#kpopidol #fiction #kpop smut #monsta x smut #yoo kihyun smut #lee hoseok smut #love triangle

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five-bi-five-mind · 3 years ago

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Starving

Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Pairing: Faith x fem!reader

Words: 2k+

Summary: Isn’t it funny how slaying always makes Faith incredibly hungry? (yeah that’s the plot. It’s pure smut folks.)

Genre: Again, just smut.

Warnings: dom!Faith, sub!Reader, strap-on (r receiving), rough sex, oral on strap (r giving), overstimulation.

After a night filled with slaying demons, Faith is usually hungry… but after a night of single-handedly finding a demon hideout and vanquishing every last one of them, with more than a few close calls along the way, tonight Faith is fucking starving.

But it wasn’t food she wanted.

No, you learned that the minute she kicked the door open.

She stalked towards you with purpose, the look in her eye sending chills down your spine. With speed, strength, and even grace that only a slayer could have, you found yourself pressed against the wall of your bedroom, with Faith’s mouth pressed against yours in a bruising kiss.

She was all over you before you could even register it. One hand was in your hair, the other was unzipping and sliding into your pants and right between your legs. Her fingers quickly found your clothed clit and started rubbing tight circles through the fabric. Your hips moved in time with her hand and honestly you were still trying to catch up with what was happening, but that was made harder by the way her fingers were moving against you and the fact that suddenly you found yourself wanting so much more.

Faith’s hands leave your body as suddenly as this whole night has begun and you couldn’t catch yourself before letting out a frustrated whine.

Faith just smirks and lets out a chuckle before pulling at the belt to her jeans and then undoing her zipper. Your eyes are glued to her hands and you gasp when you see the silicone of her favorite strap spring up.

“What the fuck?!” You whispered, “you had that on while patrolling?!”

“Yeah, of course, baby girl,” Faith grins as she’s reaching for the hem of your pants. “It gives me a certain… edge.” She winks. “Plus, I knew tonight would be eventful.” And with that suddenly you felt her yank down, your pants and underwear down and off before you even realized it. Then, with just as much speed, she had you hoisted up as if you weighed nothing. You let out a squeal of surprise only for it to turn into a desperate moan of anticipation as you felt her line the strap up with your entrance. Faith stopped herself though, her eyes moving from where she was in between your legs to meet your eyes.

“Color, babe?” She asked, looking at you suddenly with love and gentleness rather than the hunger she had before.

“I… Um green,” you say between heavy breaths. “Definitely green.”

“Good girl,” and with that, the hunger returned to her eyes. She slowly pushed her hips forward, and your mouth fell open in a silent plea as you felt the toy begin to slide into you. It was definitely a bigger one than you two have used before, your brain didn’t register that it was new until you felt it start to stretch you in a way you haven’t experienced before. In a way that made you whimper and grip Faith’s shoulders tighter as she held you up.

“Oh princess” Faith grunted as she bottomed out inside of you, “you’re taking my cock so well.” She waited just a moment, her hips flush with yours, the strap buried inside you, before pulling out slowly and snapping her hips back in.

Your legs wrapped around her even tighter as she held you up against the wall effortless with her slayer strength. Your head was buried in her shoulder, whimpers constantly falling from your lips as you felt her hips start to move at a steady pace.

Faith started to pull your hips with her hands to match her thrusts, adding to the intoxicating sensation of her cock hitting you in just the right place. She was truly using you however she pleased and yet you didn’t even care. As long as she kept touching you, as long as her hips kept driving into you with force and stamina that only a slayer could have. You knew you’d have bruises, but you didn’t give a damn. Your legs started to tremble and your head flew from her shoulder to smack slightly against the wall as you cried out from a particularly hard thrust of Faith’s hips. Your eyes rolled back when she started to move even faster, her cock pounding into you in a way that you knew would leave you utterly wrecked in the morning.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Faith said with a mocking tone. “Too bad, I ain’t done with ya yet.” She said darkly and suddenly her movement stopped. You were about to protest but before you could even get a word out, she pushed off the wall, you still held with your legs around her waist until she untangled you in a blink of an eye and threw you down on the motel bed. You landed with a grunt, looking up at her with desperation written all over your face.

“You come when I tell you to, got that princess?” She said as she stood over you. You nodded your head eagerly as you lay just at the edge of the bed. She knelt before you on the bed, her hands gripping your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs open for her. “Use your words.” She said and gave your thigh a painful squeeze, her nails leaving faint angry red marks against your skin.

“Y… yes.” You sounded so small as you finally complied.

“Good girl.” She pressed the toy to your entrance again, pausing yet again to ask “Color, princess?”

“Green,” you practically moan. “It’s green… Fuck, just… please.” Her grin at that is almost predatory. The look on her face would send any demon running for the hills in fear, but in your case it just turned you on that much more. She revels in the whimpering mess of a state she has you in for just a moment, watching the way you squirm for her. And then she dove back in, thrusting into you with ease. You let out a guttural moan that echoed through the whole room as you feel her yet again, bury herself deep inside you.

She leans over you as her hips continue to drive her strap into you. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are shut tight as the feeling of her inside you is yet again becoming overwhelming. You were heading for the edge, and you were heading there fast. Faith’s arm balances her as the other suddenly reaches out and grabs your chin.

“Look at me, princess” Faith commanded, her hips never losing their ruthless rhythm. “I want you to look at me when you come.” She squeezed your jaw slightly as she said those words. A surge of possessiveness welling inside her as she looks down at you and your wrecked state. She always got off on seeing just how much she affects you, how good she could make you feel. She loved that only she was allowed to do that. And she loved reminding you even more. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y… You,” you manage to groan out.

“Only me?”

“Yes… Fuck just please, let me come.”

“Good. Exactly. You’re all mine, cupcake. Only I get to fuck you like this.” Faith practically growls. “Now come for me.”

Your legs shook and you felt a burst of white hot pleasure course through you at her words. Your entire body shook and Faith continued to move her hips, albeit at a much slower pace, so you could ride out your orgasm.

You lay on the bed with her looking down at you. Your chest was heaving and your legs still slightly trembled, and Faith thought you looked fucking gorgeous.

Faith pulled out of you slowly before taking a step away from the edge of the bed. You took a few more deep breaths before sitting up and looking up at her as she stood there, her eyes almost black with hunger as she stared back at you.

“Get off the bed, and get on your knees,” she commanded and you immediately complied, your face now level with the strap, still glistening with your cum. “You remember, two taps means stop, right?” You just nodded as you looked back up at her.

“Good. Now, clean it for me, baby.” She didn’t give you much of a chance to respond. Her hand tangled, painfully in your hair and she pulled you closer. When you took it in your mouth, she wasted no time at pushing her hips forward and you felt tears well as you fought back the urge to gag. She began to move her hips and groaned at the friction the strap gave to her clit. With both hands braced on either of her thighs you tried your best to move in time with her hips, tears welling your eyes as she moved without a care. She began to pant and you could feel the slight shake of her legs from your grip on her thighs. You knew she was close, but before she could send herself over that edge she used the hand in your hair to jerk your head back abruptly. You gasped for air and winced at the sudden change, but you weren’t given much time to recover.

“Fuck, I need to be back inside you,” she grunted as she hauled you to your feet, practically manhandling you as she hoisted you up from the backs of your knees. Instinctively you went to cling to her. Your arms and legs locking onto her as her mouth found yours again in a desperate kiss. In a few short strides, you felt your back hit the wall and with strength only a slayer could have, Faith held you steadily against the wall with one arm and the other lined the cock back up with your entrance before sliding in with a powerful thrust for the third time that night.

“Oh fu- fuck” you nearly choked as Faith set a brutal pace, her hips snapping into you with more force than Faith usually lets herself. Faith was being a little more rough than usual, but the strap was hitting you in the perfect spot and you couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the woman who was currently moaning filthy things in your ear and buried deep inside you. Even after all that had already transpired tonight, you were close to coming yet again. Seeing Faith lose some of her control around you was quickly becoming your favorite thing. You could tell she was close too by the way her hips began to jerk at a less rhythmic pace and her grip on you began to tighten even more. “Faith- Faith please.” You didn’t know what you were begging for, anything, everything, as long as she wouldn’t stop touching you.

“Beg,” Faith practically panted, her hips slowly their movement. “Beg me to let you come again.”

It took you only a second to realize what she was saying and you complied immediately, desperate for her to continue with her unforgiving pace.

“Please, Faith, fuck please. Don’t stop,” you tried your best to move your hips against her to pick up more speed but with you still being held against Faith and the wall, you were completely at her mercy. “I need you to make me come. Please.” And that’s what did it, suddenly Faith resumed her speed and using her grip on you to move your hips in time with her own. All you could do was hold onto her for dear life when your orgasm finally came, with Faith not far behind, moaning your name as she came with you.

You both took a minute to catch your breath. Faith slid the toy out of you before setting you gently down onto the ground. You stood, leaning against the wall for support, as you waited to regain your strength. Faith pressed her forehead to yours, her hands moved to hold your hips as she too tried to regain composure.

“Well, damn,” Faith finally broke the silence. “That was fucking hot, princess. Didn’t think you’d have it in ya.” She chuckled before pecking your lips. “I’m proud of you, cupcake. Now, come on. Let’s get you all cleaned up and taken care of.”

With that she hoisted you up into her arms again, carrying you towards the shower, where you most definitely were taken care of… a few more times.

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#faith lehane x reader #faith lehane #buffy the vampire slayer #faith x you #faith lehane x you #fanfic #wlw #five-bi-five-mind #btvs #i'm going to hell for this y'all #I have so much shame lol

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fizzyxcustard · 4 years ago

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Misunderstanding.

Masterlist of all fics are here

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, fluff, angst, brief/mild sexual references

Summary: From this imagine Thorin notices that you have been more distant recently, spending a lot of time away from him and he notices that you shy away when in the company of a male Dwarf called Hodel. He begins to have suspicions that you are being unfaithful and confronts you.

Comments: If you would like to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know as I’m gradually creating a new one. Enjoy!

Thorin watched you from across the room. Yet again you were conversing with Hodel, one of the councilmen. The whispers and secrecy that you were both exhibiting was making Thorin frustrated. The King took a deep inhale of breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Are you ready?” Thorin asked curtly, the frustration still taking hold of him.

You looked at your husband, surprised by his sudden appearance. “Oh, I’m sorry, my love,” you replied, touching his arm. “I have a few things to discuss with Hodel. I shouldn’t be any more than an hour. I’ll meet you up in our chambers shortly.”

“Fine,” Thorin half hissed.

***

Things didn’t get much better for Thorin. Over a span of two weeks you were missing for dinner. Until one evening, Thorin had had enough and flung all of the food and glasses from the table. Everything smashed upon the stone floor, paired with the guttural shouts of anger from the King.

Thorin was well aware that unfaithfulness was rampant in your society, and not being of the Dwarf race, you had no idea of how important loyalty was. Every relationship between Dwarves, whether platonic, family-orientated, or romantic, was always to be cherished. How could he have allowed someone from that kind of race into his life? A race of cheats and liars!

Suddenly the door burst open and you swung in, cheerful and with a huge grin on your face. “Good evening, my love,” you giggled. “Uh...oh,” you said, glancing down, shocked by the broken glass and food lying across the floor. “Are you alright?”

You approached your husband, ready to make sure that he had not come to any harm, but he flinched away. His eyes were cold and he shot you a look of complete distain over his fur-covered shoulder.

“Thorin?” you asked. “My love?”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” Thorin spat.

“W...wha....what?” you stuttered in complete disbelief. “I don’t understand.” You shook your head for emphases, dazed and confused by your husband’s outburst. “What’s brought this on?”

“Do not act so innocent. I am surely not your love. I should have known better than marry someone from such a society that is unfaithful to the ones they should cherish beyond measure. Disgusting!”

“You think I’m cheating?” you cried. “W....why? This is insane.”

“Every evening and you disappear with Hodel. You are constantly whispering in council, trying to steer clear of me. Do you think I am a complete fool and don’t know what you are up to?” Thorin growled.

Tears fell down your cheeks. How on earth could he ever think you would be unfaithful to him? Did Thorin even have any idea how much you adored him? No other man could ever compare to him; in every way he was superior. Thorin made your heart leap for joy, he pleased you, both physically and emotionally. Your love making had always been intense and you hoped that you would be blessed with a child soon.

“How can you ever think I’d be unfaithful to you?” you wept, dropping down to the bed. “No one else can compare to you...ever.”

Thorin crossed his arms, trying to remain composed, but the sight and sound of you crying always brought him to his knees in weakness. In a split second of that weakness, he approached you, his hand reaching out to brush your hair.

You looked up at him and softly grabbed his hand, putting it your cheek. “I love you more than life itself, Thorin,” you sobbed.

Thorin swallowed hard, trying to press the lump away which had developed. He averted his gaze to the ceiling and tears gathered, blurring his vision. “Why? Am I not good enough?” Thorin whispered, his voice breaking.

“It’s me that isn’t enough, never you,” you replied. “I need to show you something...if you’ll let me.”

“What...?”

You cut Thorin off. “Please. It’ll make everything clear and you’ll understand.”

Both of you exited the bed chamber in complete silence. Thorin followed on behind you, praying to Mahal that this was a huge misunderstanding and that you really were faithful to him.

You finally reached your destination. it was one of the many worker’s rooms, specifically where instruments were hand crafted from metal and wood.

Thorin stepped inside after you, apprehension swarming in his gut.

“Oh, my King,” Hodel stuttered as he saw you both at the door. He reached for a cover and tossed it over something quickly so as Thorin could not see.

“It’s alright, Hodel. Can you give the King and I a minute alone, please?” you asked politely.

“Of course, my Queen,” Hodel replied, lowering his head and then he disappeared.

You walked over towards the covered object. With your back still to Thorin, you spoke, “This was supposed to be for our two-year anniversary next week, my love. I designed it especially for you and had Hodel and his son begin making it for you, but they encountered a couple of problems and that was why it took longer than it should have.”

With a sigh, you picked up the cover, only to show a bright, gold plated harp. The gold had been fully moulded into the form of runes and had the markings of the date of your marriage. “The strings still have to be attached...”

Thorin spun you around and you gasped as you hit him gently. You put your hands on his chest and his wound his arms around your waist. Tears were pouring down the King’s face. “Please don’t,” you said, wiping his red cheeks with your thumbs. Then you pressed your forehead to his. “It will only ever be you that has my heart. Trust in that.”

***

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt for Geralt of Rivia + 3-1 “I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say“, please? Thank you so much!!

Want to send a request? Read my rules first, please!

Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader

The silence was unbearable. It felt so loud that it resonated in your very bones. It was deafening.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but his amber gaze was focused in a faraway point. Avoiding you. Probably not even seeing where he was looking.

“So that is it then?” You whispered, too hurt to put it into words.

“Yes” Was all that answer he gave you, still averting his eyes.

“If this is some kind of bullshit noble reason, Geralt...” You gulped, aching at the thought of be facing that scenario. Or walking away from him forever. “Is that why you’re shutting me out? To protect me?”

The witcher didn’t reply, he didn’t even grace you with one of his eloquent grunts. No, this time he refused to let you understand in any way. But you knew him to well.

“It is, isn’t it?” You let out a dry chuckle, causing him to watch you with the corner of his eye. “Like I can’t protect myself, you obstinate witcher”

“That is not the point” He finally spoke up, muttering through grit teeth.

“Then what is?” You insisted, tapping his shoulder in a gentle shove. Geralt clenched his jaw, but otherwise he didn’t react. “Tell me so I can understand”

“No”

“Talk to me, Geralt!”

“I can’t!” His voice, suddenly loud, startled you. It resonated in the emptiness of the forest, scaring the birds away. It echoed in your heart, reminding you that your last hope was ruined.

“I see...” You saddly nodded your head, sharply breathing in when the tears rolled down your cheeks. “But I must ask you once more... are you sure you want to do this?”

Geralt tensed up, taking a deep breath. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours, even then. His brow furrowed, as though it tried to speak all those words he refused to say aloud. His amber eyes glanced your direction, admiring you for a split second before he looked away yet again.

“You better be sure of this decision, witcher” You coldly told him, gritting your teeth yourself. “I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. His exterior was a perfect facade of ice. You shook your head, knowing his warm interior. That feeling and bleeding heart that he had protected with those inconquerable walls.

“Fine” You reached out for his calloused hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was the last display of affection that you allowed him and yourself. “Goodbye, Geralt... see you never”

You turned around, refusing to look at him. His lips trembled, even if you couldn’t see. He parted them, hesitating to say some last words of farewell, of apprecation for all those wonderful moments you had given him. But he remained silent, not wanting to fall into the temptation.

Geralt heaved a sigh as he watched you walk away, but that was the only thing he allowed himself. He only stood there. He let you go. For your own good.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!! // Masterlist

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starilicious · 3 years ago

Text

ishq wala love (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader comforts an insecure echo after the end of tbb episode 4 "cornered" about having mechanical parts as part of his body.

》 word count: ~2.2k

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: slight sensory overload, mild panic attack (i think it could be classified as relatively vague in regards to the description), insecure echo about his body, a teensy bit of in universe swearing, lots of flufffff and a dash of angst here and there, no use of y/n [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: extremely mild ones from tbb episode 4 "cornered"

》 a/n: hello! this is my first tbb fic, so i really hope i do the show, the characters, and the fandom justice hehe ^_^ over the past few days, i've become obsessed with tbb fics, particularly the echo x reader ones bc my GOODNESS this man is such a soft bean who deserves all the love in the galaxy. as a result, please enjoy this sleep-deprived frenzy of a fic that i wrote at 1 am and let me know your thoughts! :)

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "ishq wala love" from the film student of the year. i've linked the song (in blue) with some pretty good english translations in case you would like to take a listen, but it isn't necessary for the fic–i just thought it fit well!

• i kind of got way too invested in building up the environment at the beginning, so apologies if it seems like a slow start! i just had to indulge in having the other characters there too <3

• please ignore the inaccuracies of the havoc marauder. i don't really know what the ship looks like, especially the living quarters, so i unintentionally ended up using the ghost from swr to guide my writing for that part.

• what the reader says at the end about the word in love in her native language is true. the language i'm referring to here is hindi, and we have several different words for love. in my very humble opinion, i think it’s one of the many characteristics of the language that makes hindi so sweet-sounding and poetic :)

• THANK YOU FOR 100 NOTES OMG AHHH YOU ALL ARE TRULY AMAZING 😭<333 (7/1/2021)

After Tech piloted the Bad Batch away from Pantora and safely entered hyperspace, you all decided to turn in to get some rest–or at least attempt to. With the bounty hunter scare, you and the boys figured it would be best to discuss what to do tomorrow morning, for Omega’s sake.

You tucked Omega in with her doll and offered her a comforting smile. “Don’t worry ‘Meg,” you said softly, running a gentle hand through her cropped blonde hair. “You’ll be safe, I promise. You’re stuck with us for life.”

Omega smiled sleepily at your teasing and held her arms out for a hug, one which you gladly indulge. “Sweet dreams, love,” you murmur as you let go. You shut off the lamp in her makeshift room and closed the curtains as you climbed down the ladder.

You turned around to find Hunter looking at you from his seat in front of the blinking controls. You raised an eyebrow as you plopped down in front of him unceremoniously, the exhaustion of the action-packed day catching up to you.

"You're good with her," he murmured as you both glanced at the light beige divider and you shrugged in response.

"Just looking out for her. Besides, you're not so bad yourself. She mimics your every move," you grinned. Hunter chuckled fondly as he recalled the memory where they were all stuck in the Kaminoan prison cell and Omega copied his every gesture.

The two of you lapsed in a comfortable silence as you mulled over the day's events, the hum of the ship thrumming beneath your feet.

"We'll be okay. It's tiring and difficult and none of us know how to raise a child, but we'll be okay," you said, breaking the quiet with optimism. You placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder and smiled. "Crosshair will be okay too. Have faith."

Hunter sighed but nodded in agreement as he put his hand over yours. "Goodnight," he said as he stood up, stretching his muscles.

"Sleep well."

You sat at the small table for a few more minutes to think before standing up yourself. You quickly checked in on Tech in the cockpit since he was on watch, and he immediately shooed you away, insisting you get some sleep. You had a feeling he only did so to optimize the ship in peace without distractions.

Nevertheless, you obliged and left him alone. Walking to the back of the ship, you completed your rounds. Wrecker was snoring loudly and you stifled a laugh. At least he was sleeping well–it was all you could ask for really. But frankly, you had no idea how Crosshair was ever able to sleep through it. Thinking about him and seeing his empty bunk made your heart pang in loss, but you were as determined as the rest of them to somehow bring him back. You had to.

You opened the door to Hunter and Tech’s shared room to find Hunter already sleeping soundly and you quickly left. With his enhanced senses, he was already a light sleeper, and compounded with his responsibilities as a leader, he rarely got any rest. You worried for him.

Last stop was your and Echo's room. You stepped in to find the light still on. Echo was sitting on the floor in front of your bunk, staring at the ground.

"Hey there handsome," you joked lightly in an attempt to get his attention and mask your unease. Echo usually only came near your bunk when something was wrong and after everything that happened today, it was safe to say you were concerned.

Echo didn't respond. Did he hear me? You make your way over to your lover and sit down in front of him. You place your hands on top of his.

"Echo, honey?" You said softly and finally finally he looked up at you. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Oh, darling," you breathed and you moved to his side to envelop him into a hug, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You didn’t say anything more–you saw the deep pain swirling in his eyes, the grief, the loss. The anger. You let Echo take the lead; you knew how difficult it was to wrangle raging thoughts and muster them into words.

You didn’t know how much time passed of you two sitting on the floor, breathing each other in before Echo spoke.

“Today… when we went on the supply run, I was dressed as a droid.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly where this was going. But you didn’t interrupt, letting him continue. Your thumb rubbed absentmindedly on his arm as you listened.

“That vendor we were talking to wouldn't take what we had. And then he saw me,” Echo took a deep breath. You stayed quiet, holding his hand in a manner that you hoped soothed his anxieties at least a little bit.

“Hunter sold me as a droid to him. I-I know he doesn’t see me as a droid. I know that. But–” Echo’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat of the emotion building up. Echo didn’t know how to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t even want to speak it aloud–that would make it feel too real. And Echo severely doubted he could handle the heartbreak. Can I do this?

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured and you hummed in response. Echo pulled away from you, his hand still in yours. Now or never. “I need you to be completely, absolutely, 100% honest with me,” he whispered. Echo steeled his expression, doing his best to hide how terrified he truly was.

You nodded because of course you would be. When were you not?

But the way Echo gazed at you threw you off. Something was wrong, very wrong. You were almost scared of what he would say next, but you made a gesture for him to say what was on his mind. Clearly, this was important.

“Do you really want to be with me when I’m just–” Echo struggled with the last few words and you strained to pick them up with how they caught in his throat. “–a pathetic, disgusting, hybrid machine?” It’s out, I said it. I said it. Echo felt like he couldn’t breathe, the pressure on his chest too much, too much. He stared down at the floor, face flooded with shame.

You stared at him in blatant disbelief, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open from a shocked laugh. No no no Echo. You’re nothing of the sort. You didn’t move. Echo’s breath hitched as he looked back up at you, broken and open and raw.

“Don’t lie, please don’t lie to me. I know there's no way you could ever love me when I… when I look like this,” Echo whispered, but he may as well have shouted with the way the blood was rushing through your ears.

And then something in you snapped.

You removed your hands from his and placed them on his cheeks, pulling him in until your foreheads were touching. “Echo, you need to listen to me,” you instructed and heaved a breath as you tried to sort your own rushing thoughts into articulated words. But the effort was futile as your careful speech turned into a haphazard and passionate stream of consciousness.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and your heart broke into pieces. Echo gave you all of his attention. What are you going to say? He didn’t want you to agree, but he would understand if you did. Echo felt disgusted with himself. The walls were closing in on him. Breathing was getting harder.

“You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t give one flying banthashit about any of your mechanical parts. If anyone ever says anything about them, they’re di’kuts and you can send them my way because I will not hesitate to punch some sense into them,” you spat with pure determination, not even noticing the Mando’a slip. After being surrounded by clones for so long, you absorbed bits and pieces of the language. You didn’t even register how Echo picked up on the word, much too focused on getting your point across. You were a person on a mission and nothing would stand in your way.

The knot in Echo’s stomach was loosening a bit, the storm in his mind beginning to break. The walls were a bit farther from him. He wasn’t drowning in his own presence anymore.

“Because you know what? You’re still my Echo. You’re a man, my dear. Not a machine. You never were, and never will be. These parts?” you gestured to his scomp link, his legs, the cybernetic implant in his head. “They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t focus on them.”

You smiled sadly as you rubbed your thumbs gently on his cheeks. “I fell in love with you, Echo, not your body. I love the way you make me laugh, the way you comfort me, the way you cry with me. As much as I kriffing hate that you have been through so much pain because of those damned Separatists, I’m grateful for the fact that I’m in love with a man who would do anything for his family, for his brothers.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you remembered Fives coming back home from the Citadel but no Echo in sight. You would never admit it to anyone, but you swore a piece of you had died that day.

Echo felt like he was going to cry. The pressure that had been building up in his chest was releasing. He could breathe again, slowly, slowly. His only focus was you, was your words. The artificial lights didn’t seem to be as glaring now. They were softer, calmer.

“Echo, my love, even through it all, you not only survived, but you came out on top, victorious,” you paused, briefly overcome with how much love and gratitude you had for this wonderful man. “You came back to me, Echo, and you’re as handsome as ever. I have never stopped loving you, and never will. Don’t you ever forget that darling.”

Echo drew in a shaky breath. The harsh cold of the floor grates was biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. It grounded him as much as your warm touch on his face. He could breathe again. My cyar’ika.

Your fiery and passionate emotional speech came to an end as you stared into your lover’s eyes. There was so much more you could say, but you feared words would not be able to convey it all. You hoped your eyes would be enough to soothe his pained and tired soul.

Silent tears trailed down Echo’s face and you gently brushed them away as you pulled him into a tight hug. It was all you could do to not cry yourself. Echo was always so strong–you admired him for it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with appreciation and love. You didn’t say anything. There was no need to. The charged air between you both was enough. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence on the floor of the Havoc Marauder, deep in your own thoughts.

“Ishq wala love,” you muttered fondly after some time, still caught up in your own mind.

“Hm?” Echo questioned, curious as to what you said. The soft sound gently pulled you out of the clouds and back to the man in your arms as you attempted to explain.

“There’s a phrase in my native language, ishq wala love. You see, in Basic, there’s just one word for love, which is love. But back home, we have several different words for love, each with their own subtle, but distinct meaning,” you blew out a breath as you tried to figure out what to say. Echo was hanging on to your every word.

“There’s… there isn’t really a direct translation, but the best I can come up with is that the love that we have, ishq, is much deeper than just romantic love. It’s deep and strong and pure and unyielding. It–it reminded me of us,” you admitted, a bit sheepish. Your fingers dance along Echo’s scomp link, nervous.

Echo took a moment to process your explanation before smiling. You felt your heart stitch itself back together again after seeing that beautiful smile. You would do anything to keep it on his lovely face.

“Ishq wala love,” he echoed, his pronunciation a bit off. You giggled in response. “Close enough,” you teased and Echo simply beamed. You leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his soft lips, rubbing his metal arm gently.

Echo stood up then, offering a hand to you to help you up. You took it and he led you over to the bunk you shared together. You both quickly climbed in, relaxing in the warmth of the well worn blankets and the other’s presence.

Your head was near his chest and you could hear the soothing dull sound of his steady heartbeat. Your arm curled over his waist protectively and your head rested comfortably on his flesh arm. Echo shut off the light and you were ensconced in black velvety darkness.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

“Sweet dreams, Echo. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 4 years ago

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Wrong Move

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Kidnapping, slight mentions of drug and physicall abuse (If you squint, but lets just be cautious, shall we?)

Author’s Note: I am once again killing two birds with one stone. This was submitted by the lovely @emmice9 for my 1500 follower challenge. And I’ll be using this for @hellotvshowtrash ‘s #february2021promptchallenge. I would also like to say that this is A BRIEF LOOK into a new series that will be coming later on in this year. All because my brain cant keep ideas to one shots. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things.

The world has changed drastically over the centuries. The world people used to know had changed when the creatures that roamed the darkness had come out of hiding. Vampires became the superior species, creating a completely different hierarchy within the world. Those that came from money were free from the torment and slavery of the Vampires. Werewolves and witches were far and few between. And when they emerged they were a force to be reckoned with that the vampires let them be. So long as they weren't attacked, they never retaliated and stuck to their own.

For the L/N family, they had come from money. Their wealth bought their freedom from the vampires. For the two children in the family they'd never have to fear being human. For the eldest, Alexander, he wished to continue their bloodline to ensure there was a truce between the vampires and the humans of their family. But for the youngest, Y/N, she wished to become a vampire and when she was younger, her parents made a deal with the Mikaelsons to ensure her status would carry over as a Vampire.

While most girls in her age dreamed of becoming something of themselves in the world that was created around them, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be a vampire. One that wanted to change things for the better. And the way the L/Ns had it, their children were going to mend bridges.

Unfortunately, the matriarchs of the L/Ns were killed in an accident that left them as orphans. Alexander being the eldest was given the burden of being the head of household and he uncovered his parents' secrets. Before their death, his parents made a deal with another Vampire. And with their death, it broke the deal between them. It left them on the verge of bankruptcy and being tossed in with the other humans.

Y/N stood outside the double wooden doors as she listened to the muffled sounds of her brother arguing with a vampire. Alexander was in there for more than an hour speaking with the vampire that held the deal with their parents. Seeing as it was a matter for the head of house, Y/N couldn’t be in the room. But where she stood she could pick up on her fair share of things.

Most of it had been about money, or the lack thereof. Being in debt to a vampire left any human feeling unease and Alexander was no different. Especially as he looked across the table at Tristan De Martel. If there was one thing they learned, the De Martels were the downgrades of the Mikaelsons. Where the Mikaelsons held their deals in good faith, the De Martels could find a loophole within the contract to work in their favor. And that was what happened with their parents.

Y/N’s heart dropped when she heard her name being brought up in the conversation. While She couldn’t hear what was being said, she knew it had upset her brother. His voice had raised while the vampire’s remained calm. The longer her brother yelled, the more worry filled her. And the words she picked up on hadn’t made anything easier.

When the doors opened, a chill ran through Y/N as she looked over at her brother, attempting to ignore the way Tristan had gazed at her as he walked passed. The look on her brother’s face had told her this wasn’t the end of things. That the conversation he just had wasn’t an easy one and he was left with hardly any choices.

“Were you able to come to an agreement?” She asked as soon as she knew Tristian would be out of earshot, even for a vampire.

Alexander nodded as he ran his hand over his face. “One that I do not fully agree on.”

“Well?” She asked after a moment of her brother not saying anything. While she may have been able to pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation, it wasn’t everything she needed to know. And when her brother hesitated once more fear filled her.

“What did you promise the De Martels?” She asked as she took a step towards him. He didn’t know how to answer her. Not when it had to do with her. But the guilt she saw written on his face had told her everything, causing her to shake her head. “No.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He said as he kept his eyes on hers, even as they filled with tears.

Y/N took a step back in disbelief. “No.” She repeated. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I had no other choice.” He said as he watched the tears form in her eyes.

“I have a deal with the Mikaelsons, you can’t just go and make a deal with the De Martels to hand me over.”

“If it means keeping our family name in good standing, I’ll do what is needed.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. But they had been true. Tristan had offered a deal and Alexander jumped on it. Tristan would clear the family’s debt and void out his parents contract if he got Y/N in return.

“You’ve sentenced me to die.” Anger began building within her. “Tristian’s humans never last.”

“You were going to die anyway.” He responded quickly, earning a hard slap across his face.

“On my terms!” She yelled. “Not by the hands of a vampire that keeps his own psychotic sister locked up! When Elijah finds out-”

“Your ties with Elijah no longer matter. Yes he gave our parents his word that you would join them. Your infatuation with each other sealing that deal. But this decision can’t be easily taken back and you know that.”

While they both know going against either families was a risk. But with the De Martels, there was a deadline that was fast approaching them. Y/N ran her hand along her face and shook her head as she turned away from her brother. She couldn’t handle this.

“Elijah might know how to get-” Before Y/N could even finish her sentence, her brother knocked her over the head with the nearest object he could reach, leaving her unconscious.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said as he crouched down beside her. "But I refuse to become one of them."

_____

The De Martels knew what Y/N would ment to the Mikaelsons. She was to be their saving grace. A chance to mend the world with siblings as a Vampire and her Human brother. She was also Elijah’s soon to be wife. Tristan knew he was playing a dangerous game. And because he knew her worth, he kept her hidden, away from any prying eyes that could possibly leak where she was.

Much like the other humans in De Martel's care, she had been drugged, used and abused by those within Tristan's circle. As she laid in the dark damp cell, all she wanted was to die. Her colorful dreams of the future faded to black and white wishes of death and peace as time passed.

Anger had filled Elijah the moment he stopped by to see Y/N and Alexander told him what happened. While furious with her brother he knew he'd always keep his word to Y/N to not ever harm him. It took him over a month to find Y/N's whereabouts. The moment he had her location there was no stopping him.

Elijah stormed through the De Martel home. Anyone that dared to stand against him had their hearts ripped out in a split of a second. Bodies and hearts had been left in his wake as he made his way through. Each one brought him closer to finding Y/N.

When the door keeping her in was forced open, Y/N whimpered in fear at the sound, unable to see who walked in from her position. She hadn't even begun to heal from the last time that door opened. But even as the footsteps neared, she couldn't get herself to move, her body too weak to try. Panic filled her as the footsteps ceased right next to her.

"Shh, shh," Elijah began, trying to keep Y/N calm. "It's me."

As he did, it wasn't hard to see how beaten and bruised she had been. Bite marks covered her body in several places. He had never felt so much anger before at seeing her injuries.

"'Lijah." It had been a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

"I got you. I promise I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He had every intention of never letting her leave his sight. He even made the promise to himself that he'd kill the De Martels with his own two hands.

But before the comfort and relief of being free set in, Y/N was rudely awakened by the sound of the door opening and shutting by the unwelcome guest.

Always and Forever Tags:

@taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @alka16555 @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @dumble-daddy @theactressstaringinyourbaddream @maldita-world @nikmikaelsonswife

Stag Tag:

@elejah-wonderland @xxsovereignsarayaxx @asiaaisa77 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @marvel-at-stucky

The Originals Tag:

@zillahvathek @obsessedwithvampires @mikaelson-emma

Bold tags mean for one reason or another I cannot tag you in this. If you would like to be added or taken off the Tag list please do so here

#xxwritemeastoryxx's 1500 follower celebration #February2021promptchallenge #the originals #the vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson #reader insert #elijah mikaelson x reader #series preview #elijah mikaelson one shot #brief Elijah cause hes only in this at the end #dont hate me #tvd #to #submission

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years ago

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Lovedust Epilogue || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Epilogue: The end to a new beginning

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: PLEASE READ!!! And just like that, that concludes this series. I want to thank you all for supporting me and my writing, I couldn’t ask for sweeter followers to have along the way and because of you guys, this story has grown into something that has stuck with me through my everyday life. Every comment, every like, every reblog means the world to me and it is thanks to YOU that I felt comfortable enough to continue to share this story. I love these characters so much and I’m sad to see them leave but I can rest happy knowing that things ended the way they should and with that, I have my peace with them. Also peep the last few lines that are the same as the first few lines of the series ouch. Sorry to get so gushy but wow, after over 30k words, 8 parts, and many tears/laughter, lovedust is officially over.

Warnings: Fluff because you all deserve it

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || epilogue

[five months later]

‘Some things never change’ you thought to yourself as Peter’s music slipped its way through your bedroom walls. You had asked for a lazy Sunday morning and the promise of being woken up to sweet but inevitably burnt pancakes.

The music wasn’t dreadful; you didn’t recognize the melody but it was eerily similar to something you would hear Steve play in his room from time to time whenever he wanted to feel nostalgic. Go figure, you and Peter had always teased Steve to ‘drop the oldies but goodies’ playlist so you couldn’t complain now that Peter got his hands on it.

You slipped on your robe over the pajamas you had no intention of taking off for the remainder of the day before exiting your room. Once you had made it to Peter’s room, you didn’t bother to knock and instead, opened the door to find your boyfriend scrolling through his phone to change the song.

“ I was promised breakfast in bed so unless you’re looking up how to make the pancake batter, you better make your way into the kitchen Parker,” You teased lightly, causing Peter to throw his phone to the side of his bed.

“ I didn’t think you’d be awake so early,” Peter stretched his hands out to you and just like second nature, you stepped into his arms and leaned against his chest,” you never wake up before twelve on the weekend.”

“ Well I was working on my paper but someone had to play their music so loud,” You looked up at Peter who only gave back a sleepily, sympathetic smile.

Peter hummed a soft apology as he moved his hands down to your waist to pull your frame closer to his. He could smell your shampoo- no- he was sure you had used his shampoo yet again but decided to spare you from another lecture of stealing because of how relaxed you felt in his embrace.

With the music playing in the background, he started to sleepily sway side to side which only made you laugh again.

“ Are we dancing right now? What about my pancakes?”

“ In a second, I just want to hold you for a little bit longer.”

“ These better be some pretty bomb ass pancakes then.”

“ Just be quiet and let me dance with you.”

You huffed but didn’t resist, instead, you melted into his embrace even more and closed your eyes.

With your summer drawing to an end, you could only hope to savor these precious moments with Peter, especially since you had no idea what the following fall would have in store for the two of you.

You knew he would always be around but things wouldn’t be the exact same. You two had taken advantage of living only a few feet away from each other but it seemed like life was moving too fast for your liking now that you had college right around the corner.

The past couple of months had been nothing short of a blessing. It was a lot to handle at first as the two of you sorted through whatever insecurities or mistakes that occurred before the relationship but slowly, you two managed and tied up any loose ends that were still poking out.

You weren’t afraid to say it outloud, of course you loved him. But there was something even stronger that helped you two through it all and that was forgiveness. There was no point in holding anything over each other’s head because the end goal was as clear as day and you were relieved knowing that the past was the past.

Although you would catch yourself thinking back to the terrible memories you had of tormenting each other, it almost felt like you were looking back at ancient tapes filmed through a different lens. You both grew from it so now, when you looked back, all you could see was growth and effort.

Your heart sunk for a moment as you swayed in his arms. You held him tighter at the thought of change and how different things would be in the future. Who’s to say that you two would even be together forever, of course, you wanted to be with him forever but this life wasn’t guaranteed.

You could hear his voice right now, telling you to stop thinking of your morbid hypotheticals and so you did. You wanted to enjoy this moment right here and now, you just wanted it to last a bit longer.

You hardly flinched as you felt Peter’s bare foot step onto your toes, only smiling at the apology that slipped out of his mouth. He could tell he had snapped you out of your daze and Peter, being the ever so curious one, asked you what you were thinking about.

“ We’ve come a long way huh?” You said as you felt Peter nod above you,” I’m going to miss you.”

“ Hey, hey, don’t be sad. You know I’m always going to be around baby,” Peter pulled away to study your sad expression, his thumb coming up to wipe underneath your eye to make sure you weren’t crying.

“ I know I know. It’s just...this is the end of a chapter and I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye to it just yet. What happens after all of this?” You asked as Peter pressed a soft kiss on your temple to ease your mind.

“ Like you said babe, breakfast in bed,” He teased, knowing that it would make you laugh.

He felt his heart skip a beat when his attempt had done the trick, even if the laugh was short, it was still a tally in his book.

“ Things will change and that’s okay,” Peter said after a moment as you stayed quiet,” we’ve changed a lot and look where we are now. Did you ever think months ago that you and I would ever be this close without killing one another?”

“ Definitely not.”

“ Exactly, but you know what won’t change?” You looked up at your boyfriend as he smiled back at you,” I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Your heart swelled at the profession. It was almost like a talent of his to find the right words to say to make your anxieties seemingly evaporate off of you.

Even though it came out as a whisper, you meant it with your whole chest, those three words you couldn’t find yourself ever getting tired of saying. It slipped so easily out of your mouth, almost as if someone was asking you something as simple as your name.

“ I love you too-”

Peter barely professed all of it before you pressed your lips against his, his shoulders instantly relaxing at your action. He has kissed you over a hundred times within the last couple of months but each time, he still felt over the moon when given the chance to be intimate with you.

It was always when you pulled away that suddenly, he was grounded but in a way that still made his heart feel feverish with pure adoration.

You always smiled after pulling away from his lips because just like the first time you two ever shared a kiss, he always wore the same loving but goofy grin on his face as if he was a schoolgirl. And you loved it.

Peter couldn’t help himself to kiss you again and for the next few minutes, you found yourself either swaying with your boyfriend to the soft sound of the instrumental love ballad or stopping for a moment to press your lips against his.

The moment was fleeting after your dad had barged in a minute later, grumbling about how the door needed to be opened at least five feet but even so, you knew the feeling would stay in your memory for life.

So as you came out to the kitchen to watch your ‘super-family’ attempt to make an edible breakfast, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

You weren’t sure how much room was left in your heart but you knew a person who you would always have space for. Peter Parker.

taglist: @eridanuswave @juliet-winterson @akacalumtrash @ilovepeterparker13@parkerboop @juliebean247 @multi-fan-lover @ffffan-----girlll @lukesbabylon@danicarosaline @parkeret @marvel4geeks @hollander69 @spideyyeet @spn-assemble-seven @vibraniumdaisies @spaghetittiesbcimgay @vi-bi-bye@lemonsnips @aduky @faithfullcompanion @stopthemotherfuckingmusic@satellitespidey @foreverpark @marvelobsessedteenager @deadpoetsbackup@zalladane @starcourt-s @parkersinfinitywar @stargazingcarol @littlesugarb@itsteph13 @jennasmmith @liljennyx3 @harryspet @todaynotseen @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @tiny-friggin-human @popluckbih niiight-dreamerrrr sovereignparker marie-is-in-the-darkbuckyboy-soldier maia030 parkershoco wolverinesbeer cherrysruin sunkissdes kiainspace songofcosplay spideylovin write-from-the-heart thatcrazywhovian09eternallyvenusthollandxmsrawog idiosadeoroimawkwardandherewearefoundwolvesthequeen-oni silverwolf-samainspiring-beamultiversegalaxygirl lastupidebitchetteidekwho1amsilverwolf-sama wishing-wanting annoyinglyloudcomputer faithful-music akacalumtrash agusdoti panickedbrain serendipitous-amorshannonthewriter-blog darth-andy farfromtom xroselightsmurdermornings dorbiksbitch baby-unidorn yes-multi-fandom-girl multiversegalaxygirl a-disappointing-teen-author rivas0309 vlogsquad-wannabe spicy-embryoo takemetoneverland420teenage-tragedy roxybefab hopebaker timeless-crowmarvel4geeks desteweirdo panicattheeverywherekid 1-800-noahschnapple miragee3cjphoenix135liawhite03zeusmysterboinkybarnesleftarmaunicornmademedoitActionsMinimizeClosetomshufflepuff drishtisikarwar peterparkourefrantasmicjillanaholland imdoingathingmom shawni-h lukesbabylon dsl1999 queenmochi heyarely16 jokersqueenofchaos agusdoti karmaboundlife lalabruhh blackloveangel13 flufflymota07 un-viaje-en-las-estrellas lozzybowe teenwolfrebel panickedbrainspaghetittiesbcimgay itscaminow shirukitsunepetersquipsbuckybsxroselights saucyparkerrzeusmystermsmimimertonfudgemesteveharrington1999yaniraboinkybarnesleftarm parayeet-amiright peterparkoure zoey-one-oh-fun drishtisikarwar theunicorndinosaur spideylovinflufflymota07 marzbarz1360 sspidermanss honeyheartzz overcaffeinatedbuttired @toreadortowrite kyarahollander2013 my-soul-is-the-moon marvel-snowbaz cuddlefishpeter 1-800-jackgrazerspicy-embryoo shannonthewriter-blog @tomshufflepuff @xoxohollands starriglcss fandom-phaser starryseavey the-specific-oceans @sspidermanss 1-800-noahschnapple

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solinarimoon · 3 years ago

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Sarah’s 100 Followers Challenge!

Firstly, thank you to all those following me! I did not expect to get into writing fanfiction (even though I’ve been an avid fanfic reader for years) when I started using Tumblr at the end of last year. I really just needed to try and find more Hvitserk fanfics to read so I turned to Tumblr and it did not disappoint. Then I certainly did not expect to meet such wonderful mutuals and reach 100 followers after I did start writing back in April. So to celebrate this milestone I’m doing a challenge! Participating in @maggiescarborough - 500 followers challenge is how I got the courage to start writing and sharing that writing. They’re really fun and creative and I would love for anyone and everyone to participate if you wish! They’re a great way to make friends, try something new, or challenge yourself!

Sarah’s 100 Followers Challenge - a few rules:

Writing, moodboards, artwork, whatever you’re inspired to do is welcome!

Send your request for a prompt (list below) you wish to use as an ask. (It will be the easiest way for me to keep track of everyone)

I will update this post as people request prompts - two people per prompt before it will be closed.

I have many fandoms I am a part of even though my writing has only been for TLK so far, so please feel free to do something outside of The Last Kingdom. I love Vikings (especially Hvitserk), Black Sails, Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, and many others, so just ask me.

You are free to write anything you wish - AU, canon, OC’s, X Reader, angst, fluff, smut, anything! But I do ask that if you write on a sensitive/mature topic you use appropriate trigger or ratings for any smut.

My prompts are song lyrics below (golly I hope you guys like my music taste or at least find something inspiring). You can use just the lyrics I’ve picked or add other portions of the songs if you wish. Break the lyrics up, keep them together, whatever inspires you. A link to a spotify playlist is at the bottom of this post if you want to listen to them.

Use the Read More function if it’s more than 500 words.

The deadline will be September 30th.

Please tag me in your submissions and use the tag #sarahs100followers

Have FUN!

1. “That's when she went away Away from the light of day Standing by the riverside Patiently waiting for the tide” - Awakening by Aurora ( @morosemagick)

2. “And if the night is burning I will cover my eyes For if the dark returns Then my brothers will die” - I See Fire, Jasmine Thomas Cover ( @emilyhufflepufftlk )

3. “Hearts are strong, and our hearts are kind Well, let me tell you just exactly what’s on my mind You are the best thing Ever happened to me” - You Are the Best Thing - Ray LaMontagne ( @geekandbooknerd @lauwrite1225 )

4. “When you came to me With your bad dreams and your fears It was easy to see you'd been crying Seems like everywhere you turn Catastrophe it reigns But who really profits from the dying?” - Hold You in my Arms - Ray LaMontagne

5. “As the daylight sinks As I fail to stop and think Once I cursed the things I've done Won't you please forgive me” - The New Love Song - The Avett Brothers ( @maggiescarborough )

6. “There's a darkness upon you that's flooded in light And in the fine print They tell you what's wrong and what's right” - Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise - The Avett Brothers ( @artemiseamoon )

7. “That's when you need someone Someone that you, you can call When all your faith is gone And it feels like you can't go on Let it be me” - Let It Be Me - Ray LaMontagne

8. “Take me back to the night we met When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet” - The Night We Met - Lord Huron ( @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie )

9. “Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved” - Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran ( @mrsalwayswrite)

10. “It's a stage of stone out in the woods Our spotlight was the sun Where far too many times I stood Til the weary day was done” - Secret Place - Mia Lynne Rose ( @93xdiagonxalley )

11. “My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless But the blood on my hands scares me to death” - I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young ( @morosemagick @magravenwrites)

12. “All alone scared in your room, would you swear there's nobody home On the bed laying awake as you prayed he'd leave you alone I'll let the darkness swallow me whole I need to find you, need you to know” - Salt and the Sea - Gregory Alan Isakov

13. “Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'til the dark Yes and they will run you down, down 'til you fall And they will run you down, down 'til you go Yeah, so you can't crawl no more” - Way Down We go - KALEO ( @for-bebbanburg @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie )

14. “You are my sweetest downfall I loved you first, I loved you first Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads But they're just old light, they're just old light” - Samson - Regina Spektor ( @serasvictoria )

15. “I can't look out the window I can't look at this place I can't look at the stars They make me wonder where you are” - Stars - Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

16. “So, help me decide Help me to make up Make up my mind Wouldn't that save you” - Save You - Matthew Perryman Jones

17. “The stones you throw can make me bleed But I won't stop until we're free Wild hearts can't be broken” - Wild Hearts Can’t be Broken - P!nk

18. “I talk to you but it's not the same as touchin' you And every time you whisper my name, I want to run to you” - Missing You Now - Michael Bolton ( @emilyhufflepufftlk )

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6lWKtehGxnFEqIWeRSK2zt

No pressure tags for my mutuals who may be interested: @maggiescarborough @morosemagick @emilyhufflepufftlk @lauwrite1225 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @serasvictoria @for-bebbanburg @mrsalwayswrite @geekandbooknerd @magravenwrites

#sarahs100followers #the last kingdom #fanfiction #moodboards #thank you guys so much #sihtric #finan #hvitserk #vikings #black sails

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queenaeducan-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Apodyopsis

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Mature Warnings: Suggestive

Apodyopsis: the act of mentally undressing someone. Solas finds himself hoping something more will come of tonight, but knows his desires are not the only ones which count.

Canon divergent, featuring a non-Inquisitor Lavellan and a universe where Solas revealed the secret he had meant to that evening in the grove. Originally written for a meme prompt.

Read it on AO3 here!

Minutes pass in the span of a sigh, the passage of time unimpeded by their tryst. This world is apathetic to their affection, the stone floor beneath their feet the same as it was when they awoke that morning. Solas reminds himself of this in the gap between their kisses, centers himself in reality before he loses himself in Ian’s. They stand toe-to-toe in the center of the room– their room. The sun has set, their surroundings lit by candles that had gasped to life when he wasn’t looking. Everything is cast in warm colours, a halo glows around the crown of Ian’s head, through the wispy ends of his hair. When their eyes meet, he smiles, and the laugh lines around his eyes smile with him.

“You’re staring,” Ian says with a breathy giggle, his eyes fluttering toward the corner of the room before they return to him.

“Am I?”

Solas finds himself drifting, head bowing to brush Ian’s. He still smells of Skyhold’s gardens, of elfroot and sweet alyssum, and though the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, Ian’s scent carries its memory. Hands cup the back of his neck and pull him the rest of the way down, parted lips there to greet him. He sinks against him, forcing back the urge to smile at how eager Ian is to slip his tongue between his teeth. It is not always he is so daring, though it has been more often, of late. Perhaps Ian had at last noticed how his blood runs hotter, his whole body flushed pink. He strains against the fingers at the nape of his neck, just to feel them resist, drawing him deeper.

Their kiss breaks with two quiet gasps. The next is placed at the corner of his lip, a taste of where Ian’s affection may wander. Then, his jaw, then Ian sways forward on his toes to reach beneath the lobe of his ear. He giggles and sways forward, laughter tickling his neck, daring him to laugh. His mouth draws a thin line, hands moving to check his sides before Ian falls forward. Undeterred, the gentle lips at his neck turn to teeth, unafraid to pull.

The thumb at Ian’s waist slips beneath his shirt, stroking the outline of his hipbone. He shivers under it, pleasure warm against Solas’ throat. He contents himself a while with teasing forays just over his waistband, blindly exploring while Ian peppers his neck with nips that may bloom into purple flowers the next morning. Fingertips ghost over the fine trail of hair that grows up from below his waist, refamiliarising himself with the way Ian feels to the touch, without his eyes to aid him.

But Ian’s confidence is contagious, and inspires bold action. Fingers curl around the uneven hem of his shirt, the intention clear, but difficult to protest without words to couple with. He tucks his lips beside Ian’s ear, brushing the tip before he poses his question: “May I?”

Ian goes tense beneath his palms, though it isn’t the same as a moment ago. Gone are the short, breathy sighs, the tension that begs to be released, succeeded by a sharp intake of breath that finds no relief. “Solas–” he lets out half of it, speaking his name as if it were an apology. “I, ahn, I…” Solas waits, ears pushed forward to catch even the softest of refusals. “I’m–”

It is as close to ‘no’ as he fears he will get this evening, boldness fleeing from Ian. He drops his hand to his hips, smoothing down the wrinkled ends of his top. Once he may not have recognised it for what it was, now it is stark as night and day. “Say no more,” he says, straining a reassuring smile for Ian’s sake.

What he dreads is not the refusal, but the moment where all the warmth drains from the room, and Ian withdraws from him with an apology on is lips. They always come together later, his arms falling across his chest beneath the covers, folding over Solas’ heart, but he does not relish the uncomfortable in-between. It isn’t his fault, nor is it Ian’s, neither asked for this nor inflicted it upon the other. That knowledge, however, does not assuage the guilt that closes around his throat.

Tonight, no apology comes. Ian’s arms pull him closer, face pressing against his naked chest as he breathes in through his nose. Outside, Solas hears the sounds of Skyhold in the late evening, the distant prayer of the faithful from the gardens below and the rush of magic through the valley, racing the wind. The room’s warmth is not chased away, but nestled safely between them, nurtured by their heartbeats. Ian pulls his face away, lifting his gaze to meet his, soft resolve behind his eyes. “Can you–” He cuts himself off, teeth press into his bottom lip as he rethinks what he wants to say. “Give me a moment, please?”

A simple enough request. He nods, head bowing an inch to press his lips against Ian’s brow before he pulls away. The cool rushes in where Ian’s arms were wrapped around him, and a quiet longing steals over him as he pads towards the foot of their bed. He settles down, mattress sinking under his weight, naked heels flat against the floor. Ian angles his back away to the far corner of the room, elbows bending at sharp angles while his hands gather the bottom of his shirt together. It would be easy, Solas thinks, to summon the memory of undressing Ian, but even staring feels like an invasion he needs express permission to indulge, and so he averts his gaze, but he cannot mistake the sound. His shirt flutters to the floor, his pants follow shortly thereafter, whispering against his skin as he pulls them down his legs.

Bare feet move across the floor, hesitating for a step before they come to a halt between his legs. “You can look up, now,” Ian murmurs. He leans over, taking one of Solas’ hands and guiding it toward his hips. His eyes follow, skirting up naked skin to meet Ian’s eye.

Apprehension creases his brow, the unshakable feeling that Ian would push himself to stave off his disappointment creeps over him. “Are you certain?” His other hand find uneasy purchase upon his waist, thumb stroking small circles into his skin. He hopes to see not a trace of doubt in Ian’s expression, but then, that would not be who he fell for, would it?

Doubt aside, there is determination in his smile, a hint of confidence that had not left him yet. “Yes,” he says, “you can trust me.”

The response elicits emotion deeper than the pleasure he seeks in Ian’s body. Indeed it almost makes him cry, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. It hearkens back to lonely groves and tearful reunions, trust extended and accepted. Perhaps it was meant to. “Very well.” His head bows, brushing a kiss against the base of Ian’s ribs. “Tell me if I ought to stop.”

“I will.”

That is reassurance enough for him to begin in earnest. His grip tightens, taking Ian between his palms, skin bunching between his fingers. Ian is a different beauty from this angle, longer than his short stature might lead one to believe. Soft in the places he covets most. Solas reminds himself of how his heartbeat feels against his lips, hammering fast behind his ribs as the first quiet sigh slips between his teeth. He marks all the places upon him the sun has not yet kissed, pale skin shining pink where his teeth meet Ian’s flesh, pulling until he hisses with pleasure and pain. Where impossible freckles dust Ian’s sides he plants gentle kisses that ease small, delighted sounds from him.

He pauses, nose dipping against the hollow of his hip, his own breath hot upon his face. Bare hands settle against him, curling loosely across his shoulders. “Solas…” His name, spoken a second time, sounds sweeter upon his lips.

“Hm?”

“I didn’t–” He snorts, bemusement halting him, rather than discomfort. His belly spasms, pushing against Solas�� cheek. Laughter sends thrills through him more dangerous than his touch, a sound he had fallen for long before he knew. Ian breathes in, holding it a moment before he allows himself to speak again. “I didn’t ask you to stop.” There is pride in his voice, satisfied by his own remark, and joy, too, albeit tempered by his attempt to feign disappointment. His voice drops an octave, a low whisper above his ear. “Did I?”

Affection blossoms in the pit of Solas’ chest, rising up his spine, manifesting as a grin upon his face. He cannot help but hide it, face still buried against Ian. There is no hiding how his back flecks with gooseflesh, nor the sudden shiver that moves shoulders, steadied by Ian’s grip. The palms of his hands slide down to Ian’s thighs, fingers spreading to grip as much of them as his hands can hold. “My mistake,” he murmurs, punctuating the apology with a penitent peck to where Ian’s hips meet his legs. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

#solavellan #bi solas #solas x lavellan #solas #dragon age #fandom: dragon age #pairing: solas x iander #character: iander lavellan #character: solas #rating: mature

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