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romanteacism · 22 days

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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Fallen

Synopsis: As you fell, so had your knight, Ser Aemond. Warnings: None (yet), Realization, Mentions of Injury, Fluff, Aemond Concerned PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: 🤭

“Are you certain you know how to ride on horseback, princess?” Aemond asked as you scratched the horse’s chin. You had gotten approval to ride out in the woods, but your knight must come with you. “Of course!” You say, not fully paying attention to your knight as you coed at the horse, bringing a carrot to its mouth. “I still do not understand why you would want to venture to the woods; there is nothing there,” Aemond muttered, stepping closer to you and offering a cloth to cleanse your hands that had traces of the animal’s drool. “Because I am growing tired of just always being in the gardens or my solarium! I want a change of scenery— and the fresh air would do us both good,” You explained. Ser Aemond wiped your hand with a cloth; his usual strong touch turned delicate as he held your hand.

You secured your foot on the saddle’s stirrup and tried to hoist yourself and mount your horse. Aemond watched you for a moment, resisting to let an amused smile twitch on his lips as you struggled to perch yourself upon your mount. Aemond bit his tongue as he wanted to laugh. You practically draped half of your body upon the horse before he finally sighed and helped you on your saddle. He placed his hand on your waist and effortlessly lifted you onto your seat, and you tried to ignore the flutter in your chest as Ser Aemond’s hold on you lingered for a moment. “Thank you,” You smiled and smoothened your dress.

Aemond gave a nod and mounted his horse, eyeing you with apprehension as he was not sold that you truly knew how to ride on horseback. Aemond parted his lips to voice out his concern, but before he could do so, you speeded out of the stable and into the woods. “Princess!” Aemond yelled, and he urged his horse to catch up with yours; you only laughed in glee at the chase you and Ser Aemond took part in. “Princess— slow down!” Aemond yelled, gritting his teeth as he tried to speed up his mount. “But where’s the fun in that?” You laughed, turning to another direction in order to gain speed and best your knight, who was determined to catch up with you.

You looked behind you, glancing towards your knight, who was gaining speed with a determined look in his eye. You laughed once more at the seriousness on Ser Aemond’s face; you were too distracted by looking upon your knight and the gap between the two of you that you had failed to neglect that you were riding towards a fallen tree. Dread washed over Aemond as he heard you yell and watched your horse throw you off its back, you landing harshly upon the hard ground. “Princess!” Aemond yelled and hastily dismounted his horse, running towards you, who lay on the ground, eyes closed, and lips parted, and seemingly unconscious. “Princess… oh gods,” Aemond breathed out, cupping your cheek, looking if you had a wound that he must tend to immediately.

You peeked through your lashes as your knight cradled your frame, biting down on your tongue to hinder your laughs at the absolute horror in his eye. Aemond moved to carry you to his horse, ready to face the rage of your brother and the guilt of failing to protect you, when he suddenly heard quiet, repressed giggles leave your lips, confusing him momentarily. “Oh, you should see your face,” You laughed, your whole body fluttering with each gleeful soundthat escaped your lips. You didn’t even bother to move away from your knight’s hold, nor did he dare to steal it away. “That wasn’t funny— you could have died!” Aemond exclaimed, looking down at you, who played in his arms, trying hard to stifle your laughs.

You shook your head and smiled up at your knight, who had a deep scowl on his face. He was still filled with panic as he had to witness you being thrown off your horse. “You could have hit your head or—“ You breathed out a laugh as your knight was ready to scold you once more. “But I didn’t.” You smiled and finally decided to move to sit up. You tried to move your arm, and the moment that you did, the large smile on your lips disappeared and your face contorted in pain, alarming Ser Aemond once more. “What is it?” Aemond asked, moving impossibly closer to you. “I— I think it’s my arm,” you say as you try to move it once more, but you only wince as a sharp pain overcomes you. “Do not move,” Aemond gritted, unable to watch you in pain. He assessed the limb and swallowed thickly at your mangled arm, in disbelief at how long it took you to feel the pain of the broken appendage.

“You broke your arm,” He muttered the obvious and turned to you, who was trying your best not to let your discomfort show, but the welling tears in your eyes and the quivering in your lips were enough to tell that you were filled with pain. Aemond took off the cloak of his armor and made a makeshift sling for your injured limb. You winced, and a whimper left your lips as Ser Aemond slowly lifted your arm to secure it in place with his cloak. “Not so amusing now, is it, princess?” He could not help but mutter as he tended to your injury. “I’m sorry,” You say lowly, and Aemond feels guilt as he realizes he only added guilt to your discomfort. Aemond sighed, bundled you in his arms, and lifted you towards his horse. He gently placed you on to sit upon its back, placed himself behind you, and wrapped his arm around your frame to secure you.

When you reached the castle walls, Aemond was quick to bark at a fellow knight to fetch you a maester. “Calm down, you’re setting them into a panic,” You say as you realize a crowd began to form, men running around to fetch every maester they could find. “You are injured; that is enough of a reason to panic,” Aemond said, lifting you from the horse and carrying you in his arms again. “I can walk, Ser Aemond. I did not break my foot.” You muttered as he rushed through the halls in search of a Maester.

“What happened to you?” Your brother fretted as he caught you and your knight in the halls, going along with the pace of Ser Aemond as he headed toward the Maester’s hall. “My horse threw me off,” You say, your arm clutching tightly upon your knight’s shoulder as he sped through the halls. “I told you to pay attention when you are riding! Thank god nothing else grave happened to you!” Your brother sighed as you reached a Maester, Ser Aemond placing you gently upon a seat.

He stood by your side, digging his nails into his palms as he watched the Maester tend to your injury. Your heavy breathing and pained whimpers were the only things heard in the chambers, echoing into your knight’s ears whose great empathy towards you made him feel your pain as well. “Might want to bite on this, princess,” The Maester said delicately, slowly bringing a cloth to your lips. “Why?” You asked fearfully, turning to your brother and then Ser Aemond. “We must return your arm back into its socket… it will hurt, princess— but only for a short while.” You paled at the words, fear in you multiplying, and you took hold of your knight’s arm out of habit.

Aemond pursed his lips as you bit down on the cloth, and he switched his arm with his hand for you to hold. Your grip was deadly as you waited for the maester to do what was needed, and Aemond could only stare at your clasped hands as he could not bring himself to look upon your distressed expression. Your brother looked away and tightly closed his eyes as your muffled scream echoed through the room as the maester fixed your arm.

“You’re fine, princess… It’s over,” Aemond whispered, kneeling beside you and trying to soothe you. You could only look upon him with your teary eyes as you felt like you could faint because of the pain. “How long until it heals, maester?” Your brother questioned. At the reminder that the prince was there, Aemond reluctantly let go of your hand and placed a more respectable distance between you. “A moon… perhaps two,” The maester answered, bringing a tray closer to you, urging you to spit out the cloth between your teeth. “You will take no part in strenuous activities, princess… and I’ll advise a day or two of bed rest in risk that you might dislocate your shoulder and add more to your injured arm.” You nodded slowly, turning to your brother whose concern had mixed with his anger at your carelessness.

“What were you thinking?! I knew I should have not let you go out for a ride!” Your brother exclaimed as you and him, along with your knight, walked down the halls of the keep. “You cannot just lock me in this castle,” You sighed, and your brother scoffed. “I could try,” he muttered and went back to scold you about your actions. “Enough!” You grumbled with a stomp of your foot as you reached your chambers. “I already feel bad enough— I do not need you to recollect my mistake! I did no such thing when you broke both of your legs years ago! I didn’t berate you for your carelessness of climbing out the window! Instead, I only helped you in your recovery!” You glared at your brother, who was rendered speechless. You rolled your eyes and entered your chambers, and Ser Aemond cautiously moved to stand on his post, tenseness in the air as he had never seen you speak in such a way towards your brother.

“I’m fine, Ser Aemond, it’s just one arm,” You say as your knight tries to assist you to your bed, your brother moving his post from the outside of your door to the inside just in case you need help in the middle of the night. “Even so, princess,” Aemond said as he glanced towards you, satisfied that you were tucked in bed and all that you needed was just by your bedside table. “You all have to stop treating me like an invalid— earlier today, the maids tried to spoonfeed me my breakfast; I have another arm!” You grumbled and tried to get comfortable in your bed as your knight returned to his post by the door, both of you still having a view of each other, though there was a sizable distance between the two of you. “Well, you technically are…” Aemond mused and saw your scowling face staring at him, pushing down his urge to smirk at the look you gave him. “Good night, Ser Aemond.” You sighed and blew out the candle, but the light of the hearth still illuminated the room, giving Aemond enough light to look upon your sleeping frame.

“Ugh!” You grumbled as you sat in your chair, looking upon the empty canvas. “What is it, princess?” Aemond asked, quickly going by your side as you sat upon a window with the intent to paint. “The paint won’t come out of the tube!” You sighed, frustrated that you had started the hindrance your injury had caused in your daily life. “Let me,” Aemond took the tube from our hand, letting your fingers brush. “Thank you,” You smiled as he took hold of your paint pallet, never moving away from your side because both of you knew that was his rightful place.

“Again, I can still walk, Ser Aemond,” You sighed as your knight wrapped his arm around your waist to assist you down the stairs. “You are imbalanced at the moment… and let’s be honest, even when you weren’t injured, you tend to trip— wouldn’t want to add to your current broken limb.” Aemond teased you, and you breathed out a laugh. “You should be resting,” Aemond advised as he followed you to the gardens. “I should say the same thing to you— you don’t even sleep at night,” You say as you would wake in the dead of night only to see your knight fully awake as well. Aemond raised his brow, “And how do you know that?” He questioned, and you shrugged, quickly regretting the action as a throb of pain shot through your shoulder.

Aemond was ready to voice his concern, but you quickly departed from his side as a tot in the gardens caught your attention. Aemond quickened his steps and found you behind a bush with a child clinging to your leg. “Oh, you’re so adorable!” You gushed and knelt to be at eye level with the little child, who only grinned. Aemond trailed closer to you, who sat with the child by the edge of a stone flowerbox. Trying to hold a conversation with a tot who only babbled and looked at you with awe— just like everyone you meet.

“Look, a butterfly,” You smiled and stretched your uninjured arm for the insect to rest on your finger, carefully bringing it down so the child could also inspect it. Aemond licked his lips, an odd warmness spreading to his chest as he watched the scene. His mind began to spin— imagining you with a child of your own. He tried to resist thinking of such matters— most inappropriate for what he would hold no consequence for when it came to your future child. But still, his mind began to wonder. Will your child perhaps be a girl or a boy? Will they have your dazzling eyes or radiant smile? Will they perhaps inherit your hair or his unique ones? With that thought, Aemond choked at his own spit; scolding himself for letting his thoughts stray to such— most unseemly.

Aemond was brought further from his thoughts as he heard your shocked gasp. He quickly focused all of his attention on you, who looked horrified at the child you coed at just earlier. He turned to the tot and saw the body of a ripped butterfly in his hands, grinning wildly and laughing at what he had done whilst you moved towards your knight in dismay— in disbelief as to how a seemingly innocent creature harmed another.

You clung to your knight’s arm tightly as the child began to clap their hands, further mangling the once pretty and fluttering butterfly. “Oh gods,” You said in shock, the child running away, proud of what they had done. “How… why…” You stuttered, making Aemond sigh, your care for a mere insect endearing you further in his eye. “They do not know any better, princess,” You knight explained, glancing towards his arm, which you tightly clung to. “But still! Why would they want to harm such a harmless and pretty thing!” You exclaimed as your knight led you to your usual spot in the gardens, hoping your afternoon refreshments would calm you down.

“Again, princess, they are not aware of their actions.” Aemond further explained, helping you down in your seat and looking around for a squire or maid to help you with your tea. When he could not spot one, he took the liberty to help you, making your usual cup that he had memorized to make as he had watched you do it repeatedly. “You should join me, Ser Aemond.” You say, gesturing towards the empty seat next to you. “That is most inappropriate, princess,” He reminded, and he watched you roll your eyes. “Come now, no one is around, and I’m well aware that you are tired as well.” You urged but your knight shook his head, almost finished fixing you a cup of tea.

“Fine, you can choose not to drink, but at least sit.” You say, pleading with him with your eyes. Aemond sighed as he felt his chest warm further at your concern. No one has ever shown him such great regard for his well-being— with you always reminding him to eat or rest; at the beginning, he believed it was all a ploy, but he quickly realized that that was just you. You always cared about him and anyone else’s well-being— a rare trait. “Thank you, princess. But I am fine,” He insisted, moving to stand beside you instead of behind.

When night came, Aemond once again stood in his post by the door inside your chambers, listening to you babble and recount the day’s activities, though he already knew it all because not once had he left your side. “You know you could sit down, Ser Aemond; no one is here to pass judgment whilst you rest.” You say as you settle further into your bed. “I’m fine, princess,” He said once more. He heard you sigh, and he furrowed his brows as you suddenly stood from your bed, walking to him, who stood by the common area of your chambers. “What are you doing?” Aemond questioned as you tried to pull on an armchair, bringing it towards your knight’s post. “Princess, you might strain yourself; go back to your bed; you must rest.” He scolded, trying to hinder you. “You must rest as well— I practically do nothing all day while you are always on your feet watching over me. You must at least rest during the night.” You say as you successfully placed a chair on his post.

You motioned for him to sit, but your knight stubbornly stood his ground— forever taking his duties too seriously. “Just go back to bed, princess,” Aemond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not until you sit. I’m not asking you to sleep; just— rest, even for a short while.” You sighed as Ser Aemond shook his head once again. “I will not sleep until you sit upon this chair,” you say, growing amused as your knight rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation. “Fine,” He gritted, reluctantly sitting upon your armchair that you sat upon when you read— the upholstered fabric smelling faintly of your scent. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it,” You smiled, satisfied as you had convened your knight, but he only gave you an uptight look.

You returned to your bed, turning to your knight once more to make sure he did not stand once again. “Good night, Ser Aemond,” You sang and blew out the candle, “Good night, princess,” You hear his low reply, drifting into sleep with a small smile on your lips. Aemond still sat upon the chair, gazing upon your sleeping frame. He would never admit it, but the toll of his duties was slowly overcoming him. What seemed to be a small gesture for you meant so much more for your knight, who finally found respite as he eased further into the chair that smelt of you.

As the night progressed, Aemond rested but was still fully awake and gazing upon your frame deep in slumber. His mind recalled each and every interaction he had with you as he had become your knight six moons ago. He recalled each gesture, each jest, each laugh you had shared with him, and though Aemond tried to resist it, he finally accepted the truth that he, just like you, had fallen as well.

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soul-controller · 8 months

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The Man of Steal

For Superman, it seemed like his desire to enjoy his normal civilian life as Clark Kent was an impossibility. Any time he planned to have any sort of family event with his wife Lois and two sons (be it dinner or a simple trip to the movies), there always seemed to be some sort of interruption from the news that begged for the assistance of the crime-fighting vigilante.

This was proven to be true once again as the Kent family began to assemble for their family dinner. Just as Clark started to help himself to Lois’ home-cooked meal, the television in the living room suddenly went off as a breaking news bulletin appeared. With his innate desire to protect others and save them from danger, the superhero couldn’t stop himself from leaning past the dining room table and taking a closer look at the screen. For several minutes, the man intently listened to what the news reporter had to say. According to that anchor, it appeared as though a museum a few towns over from Smallville had been broken into by a criminal.

When the reporter first brought up the fact that it was one individual stuck in a stand-off with nearby police surrounding the museum, Clark had originally decided to just allow the cops to do their job so he can spend time with his family. But as the news anchor began to include more details about the museum, Clark’s attention was immediately piqued when she stated that the museum had just recently opened an exhibit devoted towards educating everyday individuals about Superman and his home planet Krypton.

As soon as the reporter began to discuss the fact that the museum had a priceless amount of Kryptonian relics on display, Clark gave an apologetic look towards his wife and kids before quietly sitting up and rushing into his bedroom to pull his suit on. The threat of having some criminal get their hands on some Kryptonian equipment rightfully caused Clark to be alarmed. While he dedicated his life towards using these powers for good, Clark was fully aware of how detrimental Kryptonian items could be with others. In fact, it was for these exact reasons that he recalled how he didn’t even offer his blessing towards the museum’s exhibit when they first proposed it to him. Of course, his prediction came true and now he was going to have to fix it before countless people could get hurt! So as he pulled on his suit and took one good look at himself in the mirror, the man wasted no time rushing out of his house before pushing off of the ground and rapidly flying off into the night.

Within a minute, the hero was able to rapidly traverse across several miles of farmland and make his way to the museum. As he quickly made a hero landing onto the concrete road outside of the museum, Superman made his way up to a group of officers to get an up-to-date report about what had occurred so far. According to the head officer in charge, the unknown criminal had accidentally tripped a security laser upon breaking into the museum. With the assistance of drones that could look through the glass atrium in the middle of the museum, the police were able to determine that the man was working alone yet heavily armed with an armored suit and a high-grade weapon. As such, a stand-off was afoot with the police attempting to convince the man to surrender and prevent anyone from getting hurt. Unfortunately though, these talks had quickly stalled and the criminal refused to surrender, instead deciding to further barricade himself deeper into the museum.

Given the tough situation that the police were in, Superman was quick to offer his services due to his skill set and innate bulletproof skin. Although there were a few officers there who gave him sneers and angrily told him off for “invading their turf”, the Smallville resident tried his best to remain positive and cheerful in order to help bring another criminal to justice. Luckily, the chief in charge of the operation got his men in line and gave the superhero the go-ahead to help remedy the situation. After giving a slight nod in the chief’s direction, Superman levitated himself back into the air before flying up to the top of the several stories high museum.

Upon setting himself back onto stable ground, Superman quickly traversed across the museum’s metal roof until he approached the glass dome in the middle of the museum atrium. As he peered around, it didn’t take long before he saw the criminal walking around in the bulky armored suit. Not wanting to inform the man of his arrival though, Clark opted to quickly use his laser vision to cut out a portion of the window so he could slyly sneak through the hole to surprise the villain. Upon doing so and quietly setting the portion aside, the hero carefully squeezed his bulky and muscular physique through the cut-out section of the glass. Once he was through, the hero slowly levitated his way down to the ground floor and hid for a moment to conjure up a game plan.

As he quickly looked around, Clark decided to sneak attack the man with a high-speed collision to hopefully disarm him and destroy his suit so he could be easily apprehended and delivered to the police. Narrowing his eyes and taking a moment to prepare himself, the man then wasted no time as he flew at top speed and his body crashed through the long aisles of museum displays. Before the criminal could even turn to look at the source of the noise, the hero’s extended arms immediately collided with the metal suit and easily pushed him against the wall. But given Superman’s extreme strength, that wasn’t all as the force of his movement caused the duo to crash through the concrete wall before Clark gripped onto the collar of the suit and threw the man to the ground.

While the confused criminal grimaced and groaned from the impact, Clark wasted no time tugging off the suit piece by piece until the villain was left in nothing but his normal clothing. Upon peering down to examine the culprit behind the robbery though, Clark found himself shocked to see that the man’s appearance was quite unusual. Most of the villains he faced were these imposing figures who had bodies that were packed to the brim with a musculature that could rival Superman’s own physique. But looking down, Clark instead found a man who had no sort of muscle definition or impressive physical features.

Taking a look at the man’s overall physique, Clark was baffled to find that the criminal was stuck with fragile-looking arms and legs that seemed to indicate that he would be tired from even a simple jog down a street block. The man seemed young, yet with his high hairline and partial balding, Clark presumed that the man was in his mid to late 30s. To make matters worse for the man, the criminal’s pale white face and body was also ravaged with a vast array of scarring and tattoos that caused Clark to surmise that he was some sort of low-level gang member. Despite the gang affiliation though, it seemed like the poor man had been unable to pack on any muscle and was instead treated like a punching bag and guinea pig by the higher-level members based on the intense scarring that resembled knife cuts.

As the man began to stir back into consciousness, Clark opted to try and take a more gentle approach with the criminal. Clearly the man posed no physical threat to him, so he tried to be as delicate as possible upon extending a hand towards the man and quickly pulling him up to his feet. With the man looking around in pure horror as he saw his unsuited self and Superman’s imposing body, Clark tried his best to calm the man’s nerves and indicate that he had no desire to hurt him further.

“Hey, don’t worry, no more fighting needs to happen tonight. Given the threat level of that suit you were wearing, I just had to disarm you as fast as I could and figure out who was operating it,” he calmly said, looking down at the frail individual and trying his best to give a reassuring smile. “So, what’s your name?” Clark inquired, trying his best to form a connection to the criminal. In many ways, the frail and anxious man reminded Clark of his own son Jordan. Clark’s relationship with Jordan was currently strained at the moment, so the superhero father felt a strange desire to view the criminal as a stand-in for his son and thus try and be a positive influence to help the man change his life and be the best version of himself he could possibly be. If he was able to successfully do this for the criminal, Clark was hopeful that he could replicate the same thing with Jordan and fully reconnect so they could be as close as they once were.

Although the criminal remained tense and quite uncomfortable being in the hero’s presence, he eventually decided to answer Superman’s inquiry. “It’s Darren,” he said, a thick midwestern accent coming from his throat.

“Gotcha, well it’s nice to meet you then Darren. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but alas here we are,” Clark said, finishing his sentence with a heavy sigh. “Your plan though, it’s over now Darren. I don’t know what you were trying to do here tonight, but let’s just end this now so no one has to get hurt in the process. Alright?”

After silently nodding his head in agreement, Darren shifted his head down in apparent shame as he slowly began to make his way back into the main atrium of the museum. As he passed through the large hole into the concrete wall though, the criminal opted to continue speaking once more. “I was just trying to get some quick cash to help pay for my mom’s hospital bills. She’s not doing good and I don’t have the money to keep paying for her tests,” he solemnly said, causing Clark behind him to frown in sadness.

Despite his innate desire to bring criminals to justice, Clark couldn’t help but feel severe empathy for the man. It seemed as though all avenues of Darren’s life led to disappointment and struggle, so it was no wonder why the man had no other option to resort to a life of crime! As such, Clark’s warm heart left him eager to try and help fix one aspect of Darren’s hard life.

“You know, I actually know some people who work at Metropolis General Hospital,” he began, tilting his head and looking down towards the captured criminal with a light smile. “If you wanted, I could definitely pull some strings and help get some of your mother’s tests covered for fr-” he continued, the words unexpectedly being interrupted as a sudden impact into Clark’s gut caused him to stop speaking. As he watched Darren pull his elbow back up away from his stomach, Clark’s eyes widened. The man had truly just said anything so he could get Clark’s defenses down and try to make an escape!

Watching as the man quickly fled on foot through the museum, Clark’s eyes began to rapidly redden due to the intense rage he felt about being tricked. Although he felt no pain from the impact due to his general invincibility, he couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about being so easily fooled. But rather than allowing his laser vision to come out in full force and quickly stop Darren in his tracks, Clark mentally pulled back due to the fear of accidentally killing the man. Instead, he stood back up onto his feet, dusted off his dusty shoulders, and pushed off the ground to begin flying towards the still-sprinting criminal.

Given his rapid speed, it didn’t take long before Superman was catching up to Darren. To be fair though, the task was fairly easy for Superman as Darren’s frantic clumsiness had caused him to stumble over the tipped over display cases and trip over the various artifacts that those cases had once held. As he extended his arms out in hopes of quickly capturing the man now lying on the ground, Clark was eager to get the standoff over with so he could return back to his family before they finished dinner. While he thought about what he was going to do once he was back home on his farm, the man was unaware of Darren’s quick motion towards grabbing a hefty rock that had been held in one of the cases. In fact, he only ever picked up on this face as Darren turned towards to face Clark and immediately slammed the superhero in the side of the head with the artifact.

As a momentary pain rushed through Clark’s head, he quickly moved back to an upright position and stood back onto the ground so he was directly above the criminal who was still lying on the ground. However, as he waited for the pain to fade away, the hero was quickly overcome by a severe tingling sensation throughout his entire body. With this sensation rushing through his body, the man’s many years of crime-fighting and battles with intergalactic foes came back to the forefront of his mind. Bizarrely, the feeling felt both familiar yet incredibly foreign at the same time.

So as Clark directed his attention back to the criminal, his eyes quickly began to widen as he saw what had become of the artifact that had hit him. Instead of the blunt and gray rock that he had felt smashed against his face, it appeared as though his angular jawline had actually caused parts of the rock to crumble! By doing so, it appeared that a special Kryptonian artifact had revealed itself to be hidden within the rock - a small piece of red kryptonite!

Immediately, the tingling sensation that he felt began to make sense. Although he hadn’t ever experienced the effects of red kryptonite for himself, his extensive research about his home planet caused him to immediately recall some basic information about the rock type. The rock itself had a wide array of effects on Kryptonians according to his own research, but all of the examples Clark had read made it abundantly clear that this was a terrible type to encounter. As such, the man tried his best to reason with the criminal and get him to set the rock down.

“Hey, you got a good lick in there huh,” Clark inquired with a chuckle, rubbing his temple where the rock had made an impact as he returned back to standing on the ground. “Now let’s not do anything stupid here Darren. That rock isn’t safe for me, and by default, that means it’s not safe for you as well. So just toss it aside and I’ll forget all about this little outburst of yours!”

However, the criminal refused to agree to those terms, instead rushing directly towards Superman with a deranged and enraged expression on his face. Preparing to just stand tall and immediately disarm the man, Clark angrily scowled while putting his hands on his hips. Watching as the man gripped the rock in his right hand, Clark waited for the man to be in close enough proximity for him to hit him and cause him to drop the rock. With him now only a foot away, Clark immediately jumped into action as he lifted up his arm and immediately brought it down on Darren’s outstretched right arm. As expected, Clark breathed a sigh of relief as the rock quickly slipped out of his grasp and began to fall towards the floor. Unfortunately though, Darren apparently had quick reflexes, as he was able to reach out his left hand and quickly capture the kryptonite once more. Before Clark could fully comprehend the swapping between hands, the superhero suddenly felt the pressure of the rock make an impact against his broad chest.

Understandably, Superman feared the wild card nature of the rock’s power and thus instinctively pushed out his arms in order to make contact with Darren’s torso and send him flying away from him. However, as the motion was completed, both men were suddenly overcome with a dizzying sensation that rendered them momentarily with a full-body numbness and an inability to see. As both of these things made their return to Clark though, the man was suddenly shocked as an intense full-body pain coursed through his body as his back suddenly made impact against a concrete wall.

Grimacing as he slid down the museum’s wall, Clark let out a deep groan after his crumpled body made an impact onto the glass-covered floor. As he gingerly tried to sit himself back up, the sudden sounds of a deep bellowing gasp and chuckle caused Clark to grow alarmed. Peeling open his eyelids to finally take a look around the destroyed museum once more, Clark directed his attention towards the source of the noise. Upon doing so though, the superhero was immediately shocked to find himself somehow staring at his own smiling body!

Looking down in an extreme mix of confusion and fear, Clark gasped in shock as he looked down and now found himself looking at Darren’s own frail, pale, and scarred body. “Wha- how did this happen,” he cried out, notably triggered by the thick and surprisingly deep Midwestern accent coming out of his mouth. “That damn kryptonite, it must have swapped our bodies Darren!” Upon turning towards the imposter inside his body though, Clark immediately shivered in fear as that alarmingly wide smile remained stuck on his former face. Watching as the imposter cockily swaggered towards him, the superhero was shocked as the real Darren began to speak once more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about buddy, I’m Superman!”

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#male transformation #body swap #stories involving superheroes #superhero #superman #hero x villain swap

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anon-sect · 6 months

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Max was in the back room monitoring the security cameras. He kept an eye on one guy who seemed suspicious. He didn't want to jump to conclusions before seeing any evidence of foul intentions. As he monitored him, he saw him stuff several store items into his jacket and zip it up. He had to teach this shoplifter a lesson. He told one his employees to keep an eye on him while he left to confront the guy.

The employee pointed to the guy when he got in the area of the store. He has had stuff go missing recently but was unable to catch the culprit. "I think you have something that belongs to us." He spoke to the guy, who seemed to brush off the accusation.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Larry replied back, trying to play it off. As long as they couldn't prove it, he could once again get away with stealing from the store. So far, they haven't caught him yet.

Max was not letting him get away with robbing them blind once more. "I saw you on the camera stuffing a few items in your jacket. You can either fess up or I call the police and show them footage from my security cameras." He paused as he decided to increase the pressure on him. "I think you have been the one doing the recent thefts in my store. I am sure my cameras can probably prove it if I look a little further." He finished. If the guy failed to submit, he would proceed with his threat for sure.

Larry didn't need to be arrested for shoplifting. He could call the store owners bluff, but that could land him into a lot of trouble with law enforcement. He didn't want that. He unzipped his jacket and handed the items to the store owner. "Happy now? Can I go?" He asked back, annoyed that he was caught.

Max had no intentions of letting the culprit just walk out his store without learning a valuable lesson. "Sure, just know I will report the other thefts, and report you as the suspect." He threatened to him.

Larry surely didn't want that to happen. He had to bargain with the store owner to keep law enforcement out of the situation. "What can I do to make this situation vanish? Do you want me to never come back into your store ever again?" He asked, wondering what he would request to keep the cops out of this mess.

Max smiled. "A weeks time helping me out here at the store and with other things would do." He offered to him. Max smiled because he knew exactly how the thief was going to help him, and it wasn't just in the store only.

"Okay, deal, just don't call the cops, okay." Larry agreed. He followed the store owner to the back as ordered. Once the door was closed, he saw him hold a strange device in his hands. "You time starts now." The store owner spoke as he fired a ray of light from the device. A few seconds later he lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

Max smiled happily as where the thief once stood was now a black pair of AND1 sneakers. One week's time under his feet should do it, he thought to himself as he took off his current shoes and put on the newly formed sneakers. They felt so good under on his feet. He should try more living inanimate objects more often, he thought.

Larry suddenly awoke to a slightly foul odor. He tried to get away from it but found himself completely unable to move on his own. He also felt himself wrapped around something that was causing him an intense measure of pain. He finally figured it out when he felt toes wiggling on his face. The foul smell was in fact the vinegar smell of sweaty socks. The pressure he felt was feet standing on and crushing his insole face. He was literally a pair of shoes. He knew exactly whose feet was wearing him, the store owner. He wanted to curse the guy out, but now all he wanted to do was be normal again. He didn't want to be footwear. Just standing still was very uncomfortable for him as sneakers. All of the store owner's weight bearing down on him, along with foot odor and sweat. He mentally pleaded for this to be some crazy dream, but it was his reality. A week's time as sneakers, he thought his mind might not survive it.

As Max continued to work, he decided to the thief really needed to learn a lesson that would be permanent. Since he stole from him, he would steal his humanity from the thief. He would keep him as his sneakers and treat him as the object on his feet. No more humanity for the thief. At least this way, he won't have to worry about him stealing from his store ever again. The next thief he catches just might be a pair of socks. If living inanimate objects felt this good, he just might have to get more. As for how the thief would feel about being shoes for the rest of his life, he didn't care how the guy felt about it. Shoes don't have any rights anyway.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #shrinkage #sneaker transformation

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trappedinafantasy37 · 1 month

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You are backed into a corner, there is nowhere for you to go, except forward. Unfortunately, in front of you is a man who is intent on shoving his knife between your ribs and stealing everything from your corpse. What are you going to do? Are you going to stand there and ask yourself, "Would I be a bad person if I fought this man, maybe kill him?" or are you going to pull your own knife and fight back? Cause, I will tell you what is more than likely going to happen. Your fight-or-flight sense is going to try to override your asinine desire to have a philosophical debate with yourself, and try to get you out of the situation alive. You will instinctively and without thinking, either pull your knife and try to fight back, or you will try to run away from this man, hell, you might actually try to just hand over your wallet if it meant securing your life.

Does this scenario make sense? Does the outcome make sense? Is it reasonable, in this moment, to forego morality for your own survival? Because if it does, then try to expand this idea to understand the TWO HUNDRED YEARS of bullshit Minthara has lived through in Menzoberranzan. Every single day of her life was a nonstop survival scenario, her fight-or-flight sense was always active, and she always defaulted to fight because that was what she was good at. Her conversation about someone always trying to kill her isn't her having an over inflated sense of self-importance. She was important. Many people actually did want to kill her, and many people actually did try. For fuck's sake, she was almost assassinated when she was just a baby!

And she prevailed above it all because she didn't waste a single second of her time asking herself, "would I be a bad person for trying to survive?" No, she picked up her maces and did what she had to and guaranteed her survival and she didn't spend a single second stewing in regret. Because what good does that do her when there are still threats out there?

This is why you will never be able to make her less "evil" because she doesn't see "evil", nor does she see "good". She does not subscribe to the concept of morality. If anything, she's amoral. She sees things in terms of you either kill or you get killed. And Minthara would rather kill. A majority of the decisions that she makes is about her own survival and increasing her chances of survival. She does not waste a moment of her time thinking on the morality of her choices. This may be a little bit charged when I say this, but the consideration of morality in ones choices takes an incredible amount of privilege and safety. And, in spite the abundance of privilege Minthara had as a Baenre, concerns of morality was not one of them because she was never safe. And she has never felt safe.

When she does something that guarantees her survival, only you see it as "evil" because you haven't been conditioned for 200+ years to view survival in the same way she does and you do subscribe to morality. She does not see it as an atrocity, nor as a bad thing and you won't be able to change her mind because the two of you lived in the end, and that is what is important to her. This is also why she will stand by you when you make what you perceive to be "good" choices. She doesn't see the action as "good", but more of "this action helps us survive." She does not care about being "good", she cares about being alive.

For example, Minthara does approve of you protecting Isobel and warning her of Marcus' intentions. She approves you making a seemingly "good" decision, but not because it is morally good. Isobel is providing you and the entire gang a safe place to eat and sleep in the Shadow Lands, as well as providing you with a blessing that allows you to walk around freely within it. Protecting Isobel is practical as it guarantees your survival. She does not care that it's morally good to help Isobel, she cares that protecting Isobel means you get to keep a safe place to sleep. Not to mention, it interrupts whatever plans the Absolute may have had for Isobel and Minthara certainly does want to fuck over the Absolute.

It's also the same exact reason as to why she doesn't give a shit if you kill Isobel while playing Durge. But it does depend on why you killed her. If you tell Minthara that you killed Isobel for the thrill of it, she will be quite peeved because not only did you lose a safe place to sleep, but you introduced threats to your lives that could have been avoided all for your entertainment. Your dumb actions jeopardized your survival for no reason, and that's a big no-no for her. But, if you tell her that Isobel would have seen you as a threat eventually, then Minthara would approve of it as she perceives killing Isobel in that moment as necessary for your survival. She's only mad because you didn't tell her before hand and she wasn't prepared.

And there are plenty of other situations in which she actually does approve of you doing "good" things, as well as disapproving of you doing "evil" things. In the end, she does not nor has ever cared about the morality of your decisions. She cares on whether or not you act with your survival in mind. But if you tell her that you did something because it was the "right thing to do" she will laugh in your face because doing the "right thing" often means going out of your way and endangering yourself, risking your survival and with nothing to gain in return.

This does not mean Minthara does not change, nor cannot change. She is not a stagnant person and she is constantly adjusting herself to the situation she finds herself in. But these adjustments have nothing to do with morality, but more reorganizing her priorities and desires. There is a reason why I keep circling back to the romance in the Karlach origin because it does demonstrate that Minthara is indeed capable of changing. In this particular ending, she demonstrates that she is capable of prioritizing the life of someone else over her own desire for power. She doesn't magically become "less evil" or "more good", her priorities have merely changed and you perceive that as a change in morality because you are trying to shove her into a box that she doesn't fit in.

She chooses to make changes within herself because she is inspired by you and your actions. But she will never change to appease you or make you feel better about her lack of morality. She changes because change is necessary for survival. If you do not like her, then that is your problem, one she will not fix for you. You either learn to like her, or you can leave her alone. But she will remain as herself and she will not compromise on who she is just because you want her to. She wants you to accept her as she is, because she accepts you as you are. She will never ask you to compromise yourself for her sake, and she expects the same in return.

Minthara is one of those characters that is meant to challenge your perception of what is and isn't evil. Would I say that you are wrong for seeing her actions as evil? No, I wouldn't because I do understand why some people see her as evil. But it is wrong to say that she is evil because she wants to be or that is just who she is. Minthara just wants to live and she will do whatever she has to do to live, and she is constantly readjusting herself to fit whatever environment she is in. If that means resorting to actions that you perceive as "evil" then so be it. But she is also capable of doing actions that you may perceive as "good" because sometimes, "good" actions can be beneficial to one's survival. Minthara heavily weighs the pros and cons and each decision made available to you and she tends to go with the choice with the highest chances of survival, which more often than not are "evil" choices. This is also why it seems like Minthara has a tendency to play both sides of things and that is because she can see the survival benefit of both "good" and "evil" choices simultaneously.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #minthara #minthara baenre #evil murder kitten #morality also isn't a concrete concept and is entirely abstract and varies from person to person #one of the many reasons why I argue minthara is more of a neutral character rather than strictly good or evil (but leans more evil tbh)#i will also agree with a mutual of mine that the alignment system does her an injustice (as well as most of the companions)#thankfully BG3 doesn't follow a strict alignment hierarchy like the previous installments #believe it or not. minthara is actually very much against murder for murders sake and would vehemently disagree with you being a murderhobo #her pursuit of power also feeds into this need of survival (as well as considering the fact that she is also terrified of the world)

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shesjustanothergeek · 8 months

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His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hey, y'all! Happy New Year! I am giving another big thank you to everyone who moved on to 2024 with me. I never thought I would have this much recognition for a story if I'm honest. I can't comprehend how many people like something that I put so much effort and time into. It's honestly so wild, and I can't thank y'all enough. <3

Chapter Warnings: Larys Strong AGAIN, sexual humiliation, a lot of misogyny.

The discussion with Queen Alicent hung heavily and close to your heart, yet you held firm even when Aegon badgered you with questions about what she said, following you everywhere in the Keep like a pesky fly on a summer day. It was not right for you to divulge the information of private conversations; you wouldn't want someone to do that with yours, but as you thought on the subject in the following days and the eldest son's persistence, you let one thing slip.

"All right, Aegon, just be quiet!" you groaned with exasperation as he sat straight like a pup being scolded.

At first, you regretted telling him of Alicent's orders for you to leave King's Landing, though you realized it was more advantageous to do so. It furthered the divide between Mother and son, adding a sprinkle of animosity in your favor. After the discussion with Ma, it was necessary to ensure she still agreed to help prevent the Prince from becoming king.

Talking with her helped chisel the heavy rock lodged in your stomach since Aegon came floating into your chambers with jests of ruling the kingdom. Madam's network of spies ranged far across King's Landing but had yet to surpass that of the Master of Whispers. She assured you that even though Lord Strong had many, he did not have those that mattered.

You had to put trust in someone who was not yourself, and that was something that never ceased to cause the rock to mineralize again.

***

The crimson leaves of the Heart Tree swayed in the winter breeze, its bone-colored bark reflecting the cold temperature. You pulled your cloak together, a rather elaborate thing of golden furs and embroidered satin.

You would not have chosen it for yourself, but Aegon insisted on purchasing it while you visited the Street of Loom. And once the tailor noted two finely dressed individuals, one with silver hair, buying a matching gown was simply a must.

The merchant pitched the garment much higher than you saw his other items and fellow workers. You planned on letting the Prince use his coin any way he wanted for your trip, but that was something you could not let him do.

The Loom merchant resisted your haggling, his expression one of offense for thinking he would ever overcharge a crowned Prince, but you knew better. As a girl, it was your job to purchase supplies and food for the working women, and with golden dragons far and few, you managed to afford enough to survive. Or, well... steal.

By the end, you left the swindling tailor with a new fur cloak and a dress to pair, an intricate solid gold belt with asscher cut diamonds thrown in for the trouble.

You felt proud of yourself for securing such a bargain. Your inner child who sought the approval of those you admired was fulfilled. Even though the gown matched the elaborateness of the coat, something you would not choose if, in your wardrobe, you wore it with confidence, your chin high and shoulders rolled back.

Aegon made you feel these emotions, you thought as you listened to the whispers of bloody leaves above. He helped you grow and blossom in ways your Father or Mother could never. He lifted you onto the pedestal you deserved. You were not the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen to him; you were everything.

You were his friend, lover, the only person who understood him, listened, comforted, and dried his tears when no one else cared. You deserved to have someone who treated you the same, gave you the acceptance and validation you craved, someone who did not see you as an extension of themselves to do their bidding. Aegon gave that to you, a perfect equal of give and receive to one another, a match made of love and not politics.

And his love was peaceful. It was calm. It kept you warmer than the coat the Prince bought you, even as the winter air swept through your neatly plaited locks.

"Princess," a masculine voice called, the sound softer than the whisper of mist surrounding you in the early morning.

It was so quiet you hadn't a clue who it was, turning with a polite smile and your arms neatly tucked behind your back. You wished you hadn't acknowledged the man as Lord Larys Strong stood before you, hunched over his finely crafted firefly cane, curly hair loose at his ears.

The sigh you released at his presence was hardly proper, squaring your shoulders as you spoke with all Courtly people. "Lord Strong... What a surprise. How may I be of assistance?"

The man snickered, bowing his head as he waited for you to take a step closer as was deemed polite. When you did not move, your amiable expression never leaving, he grinned, finally speaking again.

"Yes, Princess, a pleasure. I was hoping to speak to you on matters of the Prince," he expressed.

All the color drained from your face.

"The Queen has brought it to my attention that, perhaps, you are spending too much of your time with the Prince. She believes that it mayhaps be better spent else where."

The flame of hatred for Larys Strong was reignited with a sudden burst; your jaw clenched as your eyes became slits.

"I believe what you speak is untrue. The Queen and I have come to a..." you paused, unable to find the correct way to express the secret Alicent unwillingly divulged, "certain understanding. We've discussed her concerns and come to an agreement. You've no need to worry yourself on her behalf." You nodded with a genteel but firm finality, pulling your fur coat closer to your body as you began to exit, set to see only one person in mind. "Good day, ser."

Larys was not foiled so easily. He had spent the entirety of your stay at the Red Keep waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity to trap you in his web. He refused to let the bastard girl with dark eyes and blood on her hands get away and moved his wooden cane into your path.

Despite the Lord being hunched over due to his deformity, you still had to look up at him, his blue eyes sharp and cold like the brackish waters that clashed on the cliffs of Dragonstone. "Forgive me, Princess, but Her Grace has sent me to speak with you, and I do not intend to keep her wishes unfulfilled."

You squinted in response, taking a single pace back and rising to his eye level. "I believe we can speak plainly here, Princess. I know you find the manners of courtly talk abhorrent." When you did not halt him in his silence, he continued, slightly tilting his chin down like prey seeking to appear meek and unappetizing to its predator. "Do you recall all those years ago, when you were just a young girl, stolen from all she knew?"

The recollection of those events was something you still had difficulty allowing yourself to recall. So many life-changing and heart-shattering things happened in that short time, but you still sought to process it. Larys' lighthearted approach to it caused your chest to feel hollow. The memories of isolation, loneliness, fear, and anger all came flooding past the protective dam you created.

"I thought to extend you a helping hand in your time of need, but you turned it away. It hurt me deeply to see such a young child broken and scared enough to reject an offer from the goodness of one's heart," he expressed, blue eyes lowering to the frosted ground in mock reverence. "I am, once again, simply a man seeking to help a scared girl in a world over her head."

Fury ran hot through your veins, boiling your bones and the very blood that gave you life. Before you realized it, your hand was wrapped around the Strong Lord's throat, fingers digging into the flesh and tendons as his gaze filled with fear. It would be easy to kill him. A simple twist of the neck would be all it takes, just the way your Father taught you. You were sure he would be proud of doing so.

The thud of Larys' cane hitting a stone as it found its way to the ground caused you to realize the severity of your actions, looking around to ensure no one saw. A young servant scurried along the covered hallway separating the Godswood from the Keep, realizing he was caught.

It was most likely one of the Master of Whispers' "spiders" that he so lovingly called, keeping watch to ensure that if anything of value happened during the conversation, there would be more than one witness.

Your grip loosened for Larys' neck, his unruly stubble scratching against your palm as it slid down to the collar of his intricately sewed tunic, resting your hand on his chest. You giggled, the sound eerily contrasting the seriousness of your attempted murder, a heart-stopping grin pulling your cheeks.

"The only thing that is preventing me from putting you where you belong is justice for all the other little girls you sought to take advantage of." Your breath was hot, steam hitting his face as a dragon would. "It is not me who will execute your punishment. The Gods have a place in the Seven Hells for men like you."

You let go of your hold on his jerkin, the Lord crumbling at your feet without his cane. The sight was fitting. A man who constantly searched for ways to hurt people, to harm people, for his own game was cowering before you. It was his proper place.

"Tell the Queen that my decision remains, and that my Mother also remembers their shared youth fondly."

You spared the Strong Lord no parting glance, leaving him to reach for his walking stick with embarrassment that only a man like him deserved.

***

The force of Aegon's thrusts pushed you up his extravagant bed, mewling and moaning as you sought for purchase in the sheets. He was feral as he plowed through your walls, noises emanating from his chest that sounded like a growl.

"These fucking tits," he groaned, eyes locked onto your jolting mounds. Your head tilted back in euphoria underneath his gaze, clenching around him.

Your breasts were moving in time with his brutal thrusts, making you unable to fully catch your breath as the air was pistoned out of your lungs. Aegon's hands pawed at them, kneading the malleable flesh underneath his fingers roughly as you released a nasally sound.

The Aegon that was submissive to your touch was gone and left only a man who chased his desires inside a woman's cunt. Each push caused his cockhead to kiss your womb, moving his hips more mind-numbing than the last.

Aegon had one goal in his sights, fuck that sweet puffy cunny of yours until you forgot all worries. He grew to know the telltale signs of your distress: cuticles frayed, mouth crude, and constant fidgeting. He had noticed the rawness of your lips, skin nipped and picked until the flesh turned red and white, legs never ceasing movement at rest.

He did not believe it despite you telling him about the conversation with his Mother, and now Larys Strong did not bother you. Aegon understood that expressing your dolor was foreign, never having someone to divulge your worries to and have them validate them. He knew it would take some time for you to grow comfortable and accept that someone would give you a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen with, but he knew one way that always helped him forget his troubles...

Getting fucked.

And if Aegon so happened to get the added benefit of his pleasure, it was not something he would refuse.

His arms hooked under your knees, spreading them apart as he continued to rut into you, droplets of sweat glistening on his chest, creating a sheen that sparkled in the candlelight.

He was such a pretty boy. It was a thought that ran through your mind every time you saw him, and it created a deep envy to be a part of the same House and yet gifted such plain features. Aegon, with his elegant silver hair, exotic purple eyes, and smooth porcelain skin that showed veins of blue and green that looked like threads weaved into the tapestry of his flesh. With your dark hair and eyes, you have simple features for what people believe to be a simple girl. The only thing that indicated your Targaryen lineage was the white in your strands of ebony and the purple hidden within your irises.

Your hands couldn't help but run over the planes of his chest, muscles rippling from exertion. It made you grateful to have someone so close to a god panting above you as his cock rubbed against your sweet spot.

Aegon's fists grabbed your own, leaning over to place both on the pillows beneath your head. Hot arousal shot through you at the action, his face hovering above yours.

You captured Aegon's lips in a desperate kiss, whining and wanting intimacy as you swallowed each other's breaths. The hair at the base of his manhood rubbed against your pearl, causing your legs to jerk inward to your body and your hips to move on their own accord, grinding against his pelvis.

"Fucking take it," he hissed against your cheek, hips pistoning into you like an animal in a rut.

"So good," you sighed, legs wrapping around his waist.

"You fucking love this, don't you?" You nodded into another kiss, his lips trailing down to suck at an already tender spot beneath your throat. "It's so hard being the one who takes care of everything. Sacrificing your happiness for the good of the realm, being the dutiful daughter your Father wants you to be."

Your nails dragged down his shoulders, digging into the thick muscle as he bit at the vein on your throat, licking the sensitive spot to soothe it. "I don't-" you breathed, voice faltering as his fingers snaked to the throbbing bundle of nerves, circling it swiftly, "I don't want to think about that right now."

"Oh, but all you do is think," Aegon purred, balancing his weight on his unoccupied forearm. "You think, think, think about the realm, family, the future, me." He exaggerated, punctuating every word with a thrust.

Each movement of his hips and fingers hurdled you toward the edge at breakneck speed, your body unable to catch up as you felt slick leak around his cock, trickling down through your arse. The sounds coming from between your legs caused you to shy away in embarrassment, attempting to hide your flushed cheeks in the goose-down pillows.

"Oh, no, no, no," Aegon teased, pushing your head back to its place, seeing the tears that gathered in your shut eyes from his forceful thrusts. "Let me see that face, and those eyes, pretty thing. Beautiful."

You released a sob at his compliments, unable to process the intensity of his gaze, the mere centimeters away his countenance was from yours. You could see every microexpression form on his features, every pull of his brows, every pinch of his lips and clench of his jaw. The noiseless grunts in your ear were better than the finest music you had ever heard, better than anything a bard could play, sending you teetering over the edge.

"Come on. Peak for me, Princess. I know you can do it."

Aegon did not falter in his actions, continuing with the harsh snaps of his hips, jolting your breasts, causing you to grab them for purchase as his fingers rubbed your swollen nub until you finally burst.

A gush of slickness rushed from your womanhood as you released with a fierce cry, your peak crashing into you like waves in a storm at sea. It collided with your body as you arched and shook, digits digging into your breasts, eyes seeing the night sky and stars blooming in your vision.

"That's it. You're doing so well," Aegon grunted, halting his movements as you clenched brutally around his shaft, keeping him firmly in place. "Just let it happen."

Your hands tangled into his hair, gripping the roots meanly as the spasms of your cunt eased, leaving your waist and limbs trembling and twitching beneath your lover. As your heart calmed with your chest heaving, you grabbed Aegon's face, smashing your lips against his, realizing he hadn't reached completion.

"Aegon," you whispered against his mouth, beginning to question him.

He shushed you, knowing what you would ask before voicing it. He understood you would not give up so easily as he felt your hips begin to undulate, pushing past your overstimulation in search of pleasing him. The Prince pulled out before you could assist him at the expense of yourself, lifting your pliant body and positioning you on your stomach, head at the foot of the bed.

Delicate strands of ebony stuck to the back of your neck, trapping the heat and sweat into a sticky, uncomfortable mess, though you hardly cared. You lay there flat on Aegon's wrinkled sheets, your chest rising and falling as you fought to catch your breath.

Everything had been so quick and intense that you had trouble comprehending what had happened. One moment, you were sitting in the Prince's solar, fuming over Larys' words, and the next, you were rutted into at such a pace you thought the bedframe would crack. Yet, despite an underlying notion of befuddlement, you were at ease. Your limbs felt like they were melting into the mattress, a euphoric warmth wrapping your body in its comforting blanket, mind fuzzy.

Aegon gently nudged you from your head with tender touches of his digits, smoothing your hair away from your neck and above your shoulder with tender kisses. A deep, nasally moan came from you at the action, slowly rousing and returning to your body. His kisses began to travel lower, sweetly nipping and sucking places where the skin rolled.

He pecked each vertebrae of your spine, cherishing the very flesh of your bones. Aegon knew that kisses and actions of affection would never be able to display how deep his love for you went, but he would try. He would honor the very ground you walked on, worship your body as if it were the Maiden's, and pray to the sacred passages written in your veins. He knew it was sacrilegious, but he would gladly suffer the wrath of the Gods as he had a sliver of your love.

Finally, Aegon's lips reached your bottom, leaving a last kiss to your tail as he leaned upright, gazing at the ambrosial sight before him. Your curves, hips, waist, and arse were almost celestial in their beauty, the yellow candlelight illuminating your form. His hands dragged down those very features, squeezing when he reached your bottom, pushing the globes together as he dribbled a line of spit from his mouth to in between them.

You perked at the unexpected sensation, turning your head to see Aegon fisting his cock, angry and red at his procrastinated release. He pushed your skin closer together, member sliding in between the two mounds of flesh with ease.

It was strange to have him fucking the crease of your arse, skin enveloping his manhood like a glove, but it wasn't unpleasant. Any touch from Aegon was something you welcomed, especially when he was satiating his desires within your body. The mere thought excited you once more, your abused cunt arousing as he continued to seek his fulfillment.

It felt almost freeing to be used in such a way. You would allow Aegon to do as he pleased because you trusted in him. You both went through enough anguish and heartache to leave you raw and unable to hide, your soul bare for the other. For once, you had no worries, no purpose other than to lay there and let someone take care of themselves without the anxiety of wanting your help. The thought made your cunt clench with arousal.

Aegon's thrusts were sure in their intent as his fingers pinched at your cheeks, keeping the skin taught to resemble the feeling of your velvet walls. You let out a breathy sound, keeping your legs closer together as your thighs rubbed, seeking friction you knew only one thing could give you.

"Awe. Is that little cunny of yours wet again?" he patronized, voice sounding like a dove. "Do you need your brat prince to fuck you mindless again?"

You nodded, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow with a pathetic mewl that would leave your Father ashamed as Aegon slowly entered. The stretch was not as severe, your walls having grown accustomed to his girth as he began to do shallow, sturdy thrusts.

A low, almost inaudible grown released from your throat as pleasure leisurely began to mount. Aegon slowly lifted your hips, leaving your upper body prone as he used the new position for better leverage, skin molding under his fingers.

His pace was rhythmic, rooting into your cunt with a sureness of a skilled musician with their instrument. The contrast in dynamics between the Aegon who was impuissant against the denial of your presence, the Aegon who had brutalized your womanhood, and the one who now tenderly groped and massaged your flesh was stark. It sent your head spinning, retreating into your mind as your pleasure soon overpowered your senses.

"So beautiful," the Prince rasped, drunk on the pulsing sensation of your cunt, "so beautiful, my beautiful princess, my goddess."

His words were mumbled together, too far drowned into the cup of sex, spouting incoherent confessions of love and oaths that would put even the most lovelorn of poets to shame. Aegon could not shake the captivating movements of your body, enthralled with the repetitive ripples of your skin, violet eyes flicking to where his cock disappeared.

***

The halls of the Keep were bustling, being only a few hours past high noon, the sun shining over the top of the grey clouds. Ser Arryk had just left his midday meal, something you insisted he take after learning about his tendency to skip it in favor of his duty.

His path was sure as he walked between the red rock walls, armor clanking with every step. You had told Arryk you would meet him at the library in the west wing after his luncheon, but you had yet to show. He waited until the sun was in a low position before he left, conjuring excuses the entire time.

You were a princess, a woman who had duties to attend to, so it was common for you not to be punctual, but typically, you would send word by either servant or guard. It put an uneasy feeling in the knight's stomach, though he told himself not to worry. You were capable and could defend yourself if need be, yet he was still concerned.

Arryk was your protector. He swore an oath to the realm and you that he would serve and lay his blood before yours.

He knew he could be rather melodramatic at times; you told him so with a shake of your head and a bright smile. He repeatedly replayed the melodic lilt of your voice inside his head until he reached the eldest Prince's doors, his twin brother standing outside it.

He greeted Erryk with a nod, his twin staring back at him with a furrowed brown like his own.

"I am unaware of the Princess's whereabouts. She told me that we would meet in the library, but has yet to show. Have you seen her, brother?" Arryk questioned with a stiff spine.

Erryk continued to gaze at him with curious blue eyes. "Did she not tell you?" he inquired, tilting his helmeted head as he answered. "Her Grace and Prince Aegon have been within his chambers since this morning."

Arryk's heart began to race, blood rushing to his head and thumping in his ears. "In his chambers?" he echoed, voice rising. "Brother, you know this is entirely inappropriate. You are directly putting a child of the crown in danger within the hands of-"

He couldn't finish, his twin swiftly grabbing his arm and looking to ensure no one heard his treasonous confession.

"I know this, Arryk!" he shouted, a blue vein popping on his forehead. "I know the depths of his depravity better than anyone, yet I continue to do my duty without fail! What say you, brother?" He interrogated with an intense gaze, anger simmering into a steady boil. "Where is your, Princess now? In the bed of a lecherous wastrel who entertains himself with whores and drink."

"She is not," he replied hastily, like a child trying to convince a parent. "She would not debase herself."

Erryk stared at his twin, the person he shared a womb with now so distant and cold. An air of anger and disbelief he had never seen Arryk possess in his entire lifetime shook him to the bones, causing him to pause.

He had heard of the rumors of Princess Rhaenyra and her former protector, Ser Criston Cole, but never thought it was possible. The Kingsguard swore an unspoken oath of celibacy and no romantic love, yet here, his brother held a fury and sense of betrayal only a lover would feel. He needed to stop him from going down a path he could never follow.

Erryk stepped away from the door, and his brother entered without hesitation.

Arryk traveled through the Prince's entry room, dodging furniture and end tables with more skill than a stag. He heard noises from beyond the bedroom walls, and his stomach sank. He understood what they were, but his denial was too strong, guiding his limbs with a forlorn dread to the eldest son's bed chambers.

Hope did not die that he would enter into nothing. The soft grunts and moans were, for some other reason, only the Gods would know. He would even be relieved with the possibility that Aegon was taking you by force. Arryk would be able to do what he swore and protect your honor.

Anything. Anything would be better than what the knight's icy gaze saw.

There you lay on the Prince's bed, arse up and curves on display in Aegon's hands, moaning in adoration as he pounded into you from behind.

Arryk wished you were dead, oath be damned because this... this was far worse. The pair of you beat his already shattered heart bloody on the floor, crushing in time with the Prince's sure thrusts.

You did not hear Ser Arryk open the door. You were too lost in pleasure to be aware of anything. Aegon brought his appearance to your attention, blood running cold.

"We have a guest, little one," he jested, unceasing in his movements.

Your limbs went rigid, your body going into fight, flight, or freeze, your mind scrambling on what to do, where to go, and what to say. Aegon's unwavering ministrations did not help as you inhaled panicked breaths.

Pushing yourself up to hide in shame, he quickly grabbed you, hooking his arms around your waist and across your chest to your neck, putting your naked form on display.

You yelped at the sudden change in position, Aegon's cock nestling inside you impossibly deeper as he continued his ruts. You couldn't comprehend what was happening. It was all too much.

Pleasure, embarrassment, shame, and fear were at the forefront of your mind as your eyes burst with tears. It set your nerves on fire, your already overstimulated body alight with every emotion and sensation you felt. Your muscles were too weak to protest against Aegon's hold as his hand snaked down your mound of black curls in search of that bundle of nerves.

"Please," you simpered, attempting to hide your face in the Prince's damp hair, "don't look at me."

Rivers fell from your peculiar eyes at an alarming rate. You felt like that same little girl on the day Madam cast you out. The day that had set everything up into the perfect maelstrom you now lived. You were ashamed, almost fearful of Ser Arryk seeing you in such a vulnerable state, a condition you required the utmost amount of trust for you to be in.

You should be furious at the person who put you into this situation, displaying your most sacred parts for a common person to see, but you couldn't. You were only confused and terrified.

"My sweet girl," Aegon cooed into your ear. The kind words created no comfort, instead causing a guttural sob to release from your chest. "Tis all right. There is nothing for you to shed those pretty tears over."

Nothing could stop them, yet soon they turned into wet moans as his digits swiped at your nub with more purpose, a singular, humiliating, yet arousing goal in mind.

"Please... get... out," you beseeched the knight, finally bringing your watery gaze to meet his aghast one.

You could see it written plainly as the tomes you studied, Ser Arryk's betrayal. His sheer disgust for the sight before him. It made everything so much worse.

The protector's thoughts were treasonous, oath-breaking. You were a fine warrior, Visenya reincarnate, yet you let this man defile you. He wished you were another one of Aegon's victims, raped and uncared for, because then he would not have to witness this... this vulgar and repulsive display of pathetic, willing vulnerability you gifted Prince Aegon.

Arryk had worshiped you on a pedestal in silence. He compared you to that of the Mother and fantasized about a life separate from societal constraints where you could be what he dreamed.

But that was gone now, burned in the flames of those who shared the dragon's blood.

"Come now, Ser Cargyll, I am not blind to your affections toward my Princess. You should feel honored to see her in such a way," the Prince antagonized, his thrusts sure as they wound the already-formed ball in your stomach.

"Stop," you pleaded breathlessly.

That was the word Ser Arryk waited to hear, hand going to the pommel of his sword as he took a dangerous step forward.

"Oh, don't be so tense," Aegon chortled. "She may say to stop, but if I do, she'll beg me to continue. Isn't that right, little one?"

You refused to dignify his belittlement with a response, instead choosing to release a low mewl, head lulling as if the weight was too heavy.

You were growing dangerously close to your peak despite the horrendous shame that bubbled up inside, and you desperately did not want a member of the Kingsguard to see you in that defenseless state.

"You are going to bear witness to such a sight, ser. You shall be the second ever to see the glorious act of her release," Aegon continued to deride, making that feeling of self-hatred all the more prevalent. "I can feel her clenching, her cunt begging to peak, milking me for my seed." His lips moved flush against your hair, his breath moist as he uttered subdued grunts.

"Let go, my love," he pleaded, voice now noiseless and tender with scores of love and adoration. "Do this for me, please? I need you to come. Show him that you belong to me, that you desire me, love me."

You could never deny Aegon; it was one of your shared vices.

With a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and a handful of harsh ruts, your second peak arrived. It rattled your bones and overwhelmed your senses, feeling as if your mind had left this realm of existence from the sheer intensity of it.

Moans of ecstasy pierced Ser Arryk's ears like a needle to the eye, the sound causing bile to fill his mouth as he ran from the room, unable to keep watching and missing how the Prince sullied your perfect skin.

It relieved Aegon that the knight finally left. He grew increasingly guilty for the tears he had caused and continued to flow freely. Perhaps he had pushed you too far, he mused as his hot spend dripped from your stomach and onto the sheets. Anxiety crept into his chest as he felt your body finally grow limp, your hands grasping any part of him you could find to ground yourself.

You realized then that this moment was more for Aegon than you. His tears welled in his amethyst orbs as he began to apologize profusely. His actions came from a deep-seated insecurity that no reassurance could ever mend, and while it did not excuse what he did, it provided reason.

Remorse was the least he could offer after disgracing you in favor of tending to his broken ego as he kissed every piece of skin he could find. It would take time for you to forgive Aegon for the sexual humiliation he put you through, and you realize that he understood that, too, as he spouted incoherent regret.

You loved him, perhaps too much to be considered sane, but that was another item on your list of shared vices.

Masterlist of Series

You know that no one can be happy for long in this universe. That's all I'm going to say xD.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn , @malfoytargaryen , @targaryencore , @justasmallbean , @omgsuperstarg , @sommornyte , @silverslive , @prettykinkysoul , @djlexi , @ynbutbetter , @legolas017 , @iiamthehybrid , @dd122004dd , @ladybug0095 , @millies0bsimp , @kalfild , @sheislonelyalways , @tempt-ress , @minttea07 , @trikigirl271 , @esposadomd , @prettywhenicry4 , @daenerysqueenofhearts , @justarandomflowerchildofthenight , @partypoison00 , @please-buckme , @pastelorangeskies , @existential-echo , @priyajoyy , @valaenatargaryensdragon , @merovingianprincess , @candy12110 , @w3ird11 , @ruhjkie , @somemydayy , @marikkjj , @zillahvathek , @sunfyresrider , @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe , @im-sidney , @aurorathi , @marihoneywk

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fluorescentbalaclava · 5 months

Text

training season's over

Chapter 6: Contact

Summary:

Contact (mil.) Contact with the enemy.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, seeing König again

previous: chapter five "R&R"

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3 months later

"Listen---"

"---don't try to fuck us over. I know, Ghost, you tell me that every time," You whispered with a sigh, looking at him who was already looking at you, furrowing your brows. Already had the same conversation many times.

"Besides I've been on my best behaviour, you should give me some credit." You muttered, both of you were crawling on the ground, hiding in tall grass.

"Giving you credit for not betraying us? Fat chance," He mumbled back, making you roll your eyes.

Simple mission: Infiltration, one of your favourites. Ghost was against the idea of giving you that much freedom on the field, but Price decided that you were proven trustworthy enough to send you alone to steal some intel for an upcoming mission: coordinates for a delivery on the ports and its destination, that were kept inside a bunker disguised as an abandoned base. Of course, you were still wearing the ankle monitor, but at this point you got used to it, even put some stickers on it and Soap decided to draw a small foamy soap with a marker while you were taking a nap on the couch.

Price did allow Ghost to go with you to keep you in check, and watch your six while you got in.

It's been almost two months since Sage died, back on that private island, along with the Russian guard. And apparently Wire was born, as Soap considered it a more appropriate nickname for you, and quickly everyone followed, even Laswell. You had to admit that the double meaning behind it, alluding to the barbed wire you used that day and the fact that they kept joking about you being a spy was clever. You would still miss Sage, anyway.

On the bright side, they seemed to feel more comfortable using it rather than your other callsign, you guessed that it helped them to separate the “KorTac merc” from you. So, despite rolling your eyes when they first started using it, you grew accustomed to it. Although sometimes you didn’t turn around when they called you by it, forgetting your change of identity.

Ghost stayed back, letting you keep crawling through the fields alone. The breeze was nice, and the scent of the flowers was lovely, the ants not so much. Ghost freed one of the watch towers, eliminating the sentinel, and you secured a rope to climb, as he kept carefully shooting anyone who walked too close to his liking.

Ah, the coldness and the metallic smell of the vents, how I missed it.

After about 4 minutes you stopped, thinking you might have heard something in the distance, a muffled sound. After a minute or so of more silence, you decided to keep going until you saw the security room under you.

You carefully opened the air vent, putting the grill inside it, and with a swift movement you were down, your feet light against the ground.

The guard seemed distracted enough, not turning around and his face still facing the screens. Your eyes were fixed on him, as you took the knife out of your utility belt, holding it tight in your hand.

You crept up to him, knife in hand, and with a quick movement you grabbed him by the forehead to reveal his neck to your blade.

But something was wrong.

When you moved him, his whole dead weight fell to the side, landing on the floor. Lifeless.

You looked at him disconcerted, and just then you saw that the front of his uniform was already drenched with blood, the cut on his neck was still fresh enough to notice that someone got to him minutes before you.

"Maus?" You heard behind you, eyes widening and the grip on your knife tightening.

You turned around almost immediately, only to find König's towering figure about five feet away from you.

Back in KorTac you would joke to him, saying that it was impossible for the targets not to hear him coming, but now that you were in that place, he was silent, as if he materialized out of thin air. You neither heard or saw him, but a quick look around revealed an open maintenance closet where he was hidden, from where he heard some noises from the vent and saw it opening.

He recognized you on the spot, the way you fell from the vent as he peeped from inside the janitor closet, your hair in that bun, the way you stalked the man before attempting to strike. It was hard to recognize you with all that heavy gear, as he saw you wearing more scarce and light equipment before. At first, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't you, you would never wear camo and that 'awful military green' as you usually called it. But when he caught a glimpse of your eyes, he couldn't deny it.

You felt all your blood go to your arms and legs, staring into his eyes, the only part that his sniper hood left uncovered, black paint smeared around them, and he stared down back at you. Your brain immediately switched into survival mode. König was around 6'10” tall; you knew you were good, but you weren't that good, he would clearly overpower you in hand-to-hand combat. If you attacked him with your knife in hand, a quick strike on the neck could do, but you could also get yourself killed faster. If I reach for my gun I could probably---

But you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt him almost jumping at you, his hands quickly constricting around your body...but not in a harmful way.

He seemed to purposefully hold back, his touch careful. One hand wrapped around your waist while the other went behind your neck, as he leaned down and buried his face on the crook of your neck, holding you tight against him, your arms trapped on the sides of your body. A hug. You felt almost embarrassed that you were thinking about killing him. On the other hand, he was just glad that you kept using that bubblegum scented body wash.

"Krass! Maus, ich bin so glücklich, ich dachte, du wärst tot und niemand hat über dich gesprochen und---" He started saying in a hurried voice, as you were frozen in his arms, still processing what was happening. You have him a few awkward pats on his back with your free hand.

"König, english?" You asked softly, and he pulled away, looking down at you once again. His blue eyes filled with concern, looking into yours with familiarity, tenderness.

"I thought you died! I tried to ask about you and no one would say anything" he said in the same voice, a mix of excitement and anxiousness. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story" you said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by him, who was visibly thrilled to see you once again, and still slightly confused. "I got captured."

"Scheiße..." He muttered, and you could tell he was frowning under his hood. He then looked away, seemingly thinking about something. Before he started again. "We could go back to KorTac, explain to them all of this, and you're one of their best assets..."

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. One of their best assets? Probably his fondness of your talking for him. You were efficient, good at best, but still disposable. However, you kept listening to him, as he got progressively more carried away with his idea.

"...they could even relocate you to another country for a while, and cover your tracks, then we---"

Could you really do that? Just escape now in the middle of this mission? Would KorTac even want you back at this point? Or be willing to spend those many resources in helping you? They didn't even talk about you to König when he asked. Then your eyes drifted to the screens next to you. Your thoughts went back to being sat on the common room, sitting in the middle of Gaz and Soap, and them laughing at you as you sipped from the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” mug they got you back in town. Price was a nice commanding officer, he was clearly experienced, and it was nice to be bossed around by someone who was actually in the field with you, rather than behind a desk. Ghost…was Ghost, he still didn’t talk to you when off duty, but he kept it professional while working.

And even if you and König were relatively close, you never sat down like you did with your sergeants with him, your talks were limited to sharing one hour when he was at base and conversations while travelling. You didn’t know what he liked outside explosives and sniper rifles of which he, very often and with a childlike enthusiasm, talked about. And this was the first time he ever touched you, let alone a hug.

When you joined KorTac, you ghosted most of your friends back home, completely going off the radar from them, even when they tried to reach out through your parents, your excuse was that you were too busy now. So, friends were scarce at the time.

And your parents. Fleeing would not only mean running away from the 141 but also from your family. Who would send them money if you ran away? The mortgage, healthcare, bills, they were too much for them. You didn’t see them frequently, but the idea of not seeing them ever again made your stomach turn.

And of course, you would become a wanted criminal.

"König!" He snapped out of his rambling and focused his eyes again on you, tilting his head.

"I can't" You softly said. Your voice too strained to your liking, as you looked up at him.

He still hasn't let you go fully, still embracing you, just put space between you to be able to talk.

"W-What do you mean you can't?" He said shaking his head, clearly confused. In his mind, it was the obvious course of action.

You felt his grip tighten around you, and your comm cracked.

"Wire, how copy?" Ghost's voice said through the comm, sounding slightly impatient, prompting König to look at the source of the voice on your shoulder, and then at you again.

"Almost there, need a sec" You answered not taking off your eyes from the man towering over you.

"Wire? Was that the lieutenant of the 141?" he said drifting from your face to look down to your geared body, as if he was connecting the pieces, trying to make sense of the situation.

“You are working with them.” He said as realization hit him.

"But why, Maus?"

"I have a family, König. I can't live on the run, and they offered me a deal if I worked with them…I…I can't go to jail" You explained, looking up at him furrowing your eyebrows in distress, and you pulled down your face mask, letting him see your face fully. If it was possible, his eyes became even gentler at the sight of your face, his gaze taking in every detail.

"Family…? I didn't know" He answered in a faint and soft tone, looking down for a moment.

Then he looked at you for a few more seconds, that felt hours. He felt conflicted.

König wasn't dumb, he knew that every time you spoke to him you only revealed surface level information about yourself. Except from your PTSD, that probably was too heavy a burden to keep to yourself. Then, his hand moved from the back of your neck to your temple, as he gently traced the scar that peeked out of your hairline, going into your hair. His glove was surprisingly soothing against your scalp.

He still remembers the day you were captured. The mission went wrong, Konni soldiers were waiting for you, it was a set up; he remembers the unsettling calmness in which you explained the tortures you went through in those four days you were missing. Tied up, without food nor water, as you were constantly deprived from sleep, waterboarded, tortured with electricity, beaten up…he still remembers when the initial shock faded, and was soon replaced by anxiousness, grief, fear. He knew well about that. He remembers when you finally broke down and confessed that you could barely sleep at night, haunted by memories of being tied up, in the darkness, alone, or of your captors beating you. He tried to sooth you, to explain to you it was normal, but you needed help. Weighted blankets, sleep with a light on, drinking chamomile before bed, he recommended you what worked best for him, as well as therapy. How he wished he would have hugged you like this back then.

It took you a few months until you went back to being fully functional, he tried to take you out of your room in the barracks for a walk or tea, when he was in base, which he admits wasn’t as frequent as he would have wanted. The first time you smiled again was while on a truck, going back to the safe house KorTac had in Berlin. You showed him a photo of the little animal figures you bought, he didn’t understand what they were exactly or their purpose, but he was glad they brought you joy.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he let out a sigh, finally pulling away from you, basically forcing himself to. He slowly reached for his belt, making you flinch and instinctively raised the hand with the knife, to which he rose his other hand in surrender, as he reached inside one of his pockets, pulling out a flash drive, offering it to you.

"This is all the intel we found. There's a whole KorTac team here, I am leading Delta today. You and your new...friend, should go."

"König?" He reached for his handgun, spinning it on his hand and offering it to you.

"You moved too fast, you stole my weapon and shot me, and you fled with the intel. Nothing I could do to catch you. And I didn’t even saw your face, it was all too quick." He said with a sigh, but still gentle. You grabbed the weapon with a bit of doubt and inspected it before looking up at him again.

"I'm not going to shoot you. I could just knock you."

"Be serious, Maus." He said in a tone that said that it wouldn't be believable, and you would be mad if it wasn't true.

"It's okay, I don't mind" he said softly again, reassuring you.

"König, I'm not going to shoot you" you said in a firm tone, the one that usually made him slightly uneasy, but you were now met with a determined demeanour.

"Then they'll know I let you run away with the intel, and I'll face the consequences for my lack of judgement" You can't remember a time when you heard him so decided about something, let alone getting shot.

You groaned and reluctantly lifted his gun. You didn’t want him to get in trouble, he loves his job.

Thigh is out of the question, as well as torso. Feet are not fatal but crippling...

Shoulder.

He must have seen you aim there, taking a deep breath to try to ease your tension at the necessity of shooting someone who you consider close.

"Avoid the brachial artery, and if you could kindly avoid the---"

"Humerus because it's painful, and branchial plexus or you won't be able to move your arm. I know" you said looking straight to his shoulder before your eyes drifted back to his eyes. His gaze still fixed in you.

"I...I can't"

"Yes, you can, Maus. And we're running out of time. It's a 22. calibre, if you shot on pectoralis minor avoiding my bones and arteries, I'll be fine. Will be an in-and-out. Flesh wound. Textbook," There's nothing textbook about this.

You took another deep breath, your eyes focusing on the spot, until they drifted back to König, and his gaze still felt unbelievably soft, despite the situation. You have worked with him since you joined KorTac, your commanding officer…your friend. He saw you become who you are.

"Thank you" You whispered to him, gratefulness in your voice.

He nodded, and the way his eyes were creasing made you believe he might be smiling.

Across the hallway, Delta-3, who was shooting the last remaining witness with his silencer, heard a singular gunshot. Coming from the same door where their C.O. disappeared a few minutes ago. He quickly alerted the others.

König didn’t have a big reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut while he grunted before he told you to flee. And you thanked him one last time before you jumped back into the vent.

"Ghost, I have the intel, but I've been compromised. Building is filled with KorTac operators. Meet you at the exfil point." You muttered as you were quickly crawling through the vents again, hearing behind you screams in German and in English calling for back-ups. He was kind enough to give you a two-minute advantage.

You went down the rope on the side of the building, from the watch tower you used to get into, and ran as fast as you could through the fields. When you were half on the way you heard screams, quickly followed by shots on the ground and the trees beside you, before your figure was lost over a hill, making König let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

You kept running until you saw the Jeep that you used to get there, with Ghost already sitting on the driver seat, the motor already on.

However, when relief was washing over you, panting from the long sprint over the hill as you opened the passenger door, you quickly met the end of a gun pointing at you. First you looked back in confusion…then in fear, but you raised your hands slowly, meeting his eyes.

"Ghost..." You managed to make out, your words were slow and careful. Your mind already too clouded with emotions from your encounter with König.

"KorTac, huh?" His tone was cold, cutting right through you.

"I didn't know! I even had to shoot one of them" Not mortally, and he let me, but still technically true. "Laswell checks all my devices, I never leave the base, you have a tracker on me. Hell, I can't betray you even if I wanted.”

Ghost was not one to trust, especially you. You were in the comfort of your flat, bought with your mercenary money, crossing paths with him, and pretending you weren't into his team like a damn leech. He had to admit you were a good liar in general, probably the reason why you were on the job.

"Simon…please." You pleaded, your hands still up, your voice almost a whisper. His jaw tightened, biting into nothing.

He knew that you were calling him by his name as a desperate attempt of moving something in him, to make him think of you as someone somehow familiar, to make him trust you. He hated that it somewhat worked. His eyes were locked on your face, studying it. When you would talk to him on the lift, or when you arrived to your flat, in your eyes, he could see that you were lying. It was just a hint, something quick, easy to miss if someone wasn’t looking for it in the first place. But today he didn't find that, he saw something else. You were telling the truth, and you were genuinely terrified.

He moved his thumb, putting the safety back on, and lowered his gun.

You breathe again, your body is still tense, and with your heart still pounding in your chest, you quickly get into the car.

You spend the next hour on a very silent road back to the airport.

As every Tuesday night, you were in the common room, sitting on the couch with Soap and Gaz, watching the Great British Bake Off, a new season. You liked it, it temporarily numbed your brain, and having company was soothing.

"I miss the old guys. I still can't believe that cunt won" Soap groaned, leaning back to the arm of the couch. He had his legs over it, and a notebook resting on his legs as he seemed not focused on the TV but in the paper in front of him.

"Bonnie, can you lift your chin a bit?" He asked, to which you just raised your face slightly, complying. Still focusing on the screen, attentively hearing today's recipe.

"It's been like one month, get over it" Gaz said, and when he heard Soap's request, he turned to him, peeping over his legs into his journal. He saw a halfway sketch of your profile, along with other small drawings like your mug and a sketch of Riley. He then added.

"Drawing her like one of your French girls? Very smooth, MacTavish" he said teasingly, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, she saw my journal and she asked me to. Besides she is still dressed..." He said defensively. He had to admit that having an excuse to stare at you was pleasant.

“…for now," He muttered under his breath with a small smirk, jokingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"And I intend to keep it that way," You said back.

Gaz and you were watching attentively how one of the new contestants was putting his broken ganache aside, clearly frustrated as she started a whole new batch.

"She should try to melt it and whisk it. Still can be saved" A familiar husky voice said from behind the three of you.

All of you turned around, only to find a nonchalant Ghost, with his mask over the bridge or his nose, sipping on his tea and watching the TV.

Simon purposefully avoided the common room on Tuesdays, not wanting to perturb whatever ritual you had going on with Gaz and Soap, and to avoid you. The image of you, blood stained, sitting next to the guard you just butchered returned to his mind more than he would like to admit. The man was easily a head taller than you, bigger than you, and yet he was laying dead, face almost disfigured by your hand. He couldn’t help but being impressed, as he assumed you were only good to shove yourself into small spaces and stalk. Knowing that you were capable of such carnage, despite your size, sparked something in him. He hated that. But he appreciated the resourceful use of the barbed wire.

When you were in the jeep, silent and still shaken with adrenaline beside him, he felt a tingle of guilt from pointing a gun at you. He knew he was justified, as the whole situation felt oddly suspicious, but Price was right, you weren’t giving any reasons to doubt you, and you were right as well, as you were heavily monitored to even try something out of the ordinary. His thoughts were divided between apologizing and don’t, both sides had good arguments in his head. So, showing up was a middle ground. An olive branch, sort of speak.

"You bake?" Soap asked in an incredulous tone, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I know a few things," He answered before taking another sip.

"How come you never bake anything for us?" Soap asked again, this time sounding outraged.

"You never asked."

chapter seven: coming soon!

Sorry for taking so long! Had a few small issues but I'm feeling inspired again! Will be updating soon <3

Thank you to the lovely people following this! : @no-lessthan3, @blush-haze, @eustassh, @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod #konig cod #konig x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #soap x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price

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nebulaafterdark · 2 years

Text

Of Love & Beauty

Requested by anonymous. I've a got a smutty blurb request with harwin. there's a tourney and he asks reader (his betrothed) for her favor, he wins, and makes her the queen of love and beauty. later she gives him a different kind of favor which he accepts eagerly. the flower crown stays on 🤭

I love this idea! In rereading this ask I realized you might have meant a different favor. I’m sure he would still appreciate this lmao 💜

Warning: 18+ ONLY, smut, fluff

“Might I have your favor, my lady?” The knight asks, approaching the crowd closest to where Y/N sits, enjoying the festivities.

“But of course.” Y/N bites back a grin, moving to stand with her offering in hand. Tossing it down to land directly on his sword.

“You honor me,” he smiles, proudly, directing his horse back to the center of arena. His next opponent is of little challenge, the masses cheer. Hailing Ser Harwin Breakbones the strongest knight in the seven kingdoms.

Of course when all is said and done, Lady Y/N, is crowned as his Queen of love and beauty. They drink the night away, lost in celebration, finally stealing away to his rooms.

It is improper, but they’ve never cared much about that. The two lovebirds are soon to be married anyhow.

“Now that you have me at your mercy, what will you do?” Y/N arches a brow, toying with the neckline of her gown. Perched at the foot of his bed.

“I’m going to celebrate with my Queen.” Harwin grins, kneeling to slide off her tights. Kissing the newly exposed skin of her knee. He helps her out of her gown and small clothes, leaving the flower crown in place. “You are the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms.”

Y/N feels all the air leave her lungs, his gaze is dark. The intensity charging tenfold as she strips him down.

“You are always so good to me, my Queen.” Harwin tips her chin up to capture her lips in a sweet kiss.

“Because I love you and you deserve to feel cared for…desired.” She stokes his cheek.

Harwin hums, low in his throat. Moving past her to the pillows, laying on his back, hand outstretched toward her. “Come.”

Y/N obeys, slinking up beside him, kneeling at his side.

Harwin takes her by the waist, positioning her to straddle his hips; erection a breath away from her sweet cunt.

Her eyes flicker over the length of him, growing wetter at the sight. They have never made love this way.

“I want you to take your pleasure from me. Give us both what we need.” The knight insists.

Y/N nods, lips parted as she rises up on her knees. Guiding the head of his cock to her center and sinking down inch by inch. Feeling the familiar stretch of him, but he is somehow deeper than ever before. Y/N whines as she takes him to the hilt.

“Good job, sweetheart.” Harwin encourages. “Knew my Queen was made for me.”

“I-” she struggles to speak as Harwin helps her rock against him. Still acclimating to the angle.

“It’s alright,” Harwin coos, stroking her trembling thighs. “You can tell me.”

“So deep,” Y/N whimpers. Having gotten her bearings enough to begin moving, up and down.

“Mmm,” he hums his approval.

The tip of him brushing over that spot inside her within each pass.

Harwin thrusts his hips up to meet hers. Enjoying the soft furrow of her brow, the flower crown jostling about her head in time with her breasts. Reaching up to cup them and roll her hard little nipples between his fingers.

“Love you,” Y/N pants, chasing her release. Fucking him for her pleasure alone, using him.

Harwin, for his part, is thoroughly enjoying the desperate display. “I love you more.” He can feel her tight walls begin to flutter around him. His love is coming undone, bundle of nerves brushing against him with every pass. “My Queen of love and beauty, I cannot wait to call you my wife. My everything.”

Y/N cries out, pulsing around his length. Falling forward against his chest.

One of Harwin’s arms move to her waist, securing her in place while the other holds the nape of her neck, tenderly as he hammers himself up into her warmth. Drawing out her climax, not letting her come down. “That’s it, Y/N. Cum on my cock, milk me.”

“Fuck!” She sobs, nails biting into the skin of his shoulders. “Harwin.”

“I’ve got you.” He assures her, fucking faster still. “You just keep cumming for me.”

The pretty little thing in his arms can’t seem to stop, spasming around him until he spills his seed deep inside.

The pair of them fight for breath as they come down from their highs. Harwin strokes his betrothed’s back patiently, peppering her face with tiny kisses. A grin spreading across his lips at the realization that she is still wearing the crown.

#hotd smut #house of the dragon #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong x you #ser harwin strong #harwin smut #harwin strong #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong smut #harwin breakbones

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shady-tavern · 3 months

Text

Preview for "Wishmaker" the July Patreon Short Story

(slight warnings ahead for death and murder and implied harm to children, nothing graphic or specific, but please take care of yourselves)

*.*.*

The young god was born cradled in the colors of the sky, with long flowing hair that was studded with countless of stars. An entire galaxy drifted and wove in and out of his hair and the sun and moon loved him immediately, claiming him as theirs.

"You are the guardian of stars," the other gods told him. "Guard your powers well."

The other gods taught him everything he had to know with love and care and great wisdom. They told him what it meant to carry all the stars in the world in his hair and to usher the sun and moon along when they liked to tangle themselves into his strands for too long, giggling mischievously.

The little god was happy up in the eternal world of the divine, but soon his gaze was drawn down to the mortal world. It was just so curious, so wild. Untamed and full of possibility and potential. He found himself watching the mortal world the same way mortal children watched the passing of seasons, a quiet awe for things no one could truly control.

"Do not let them lure you into giving up your powers," one of the other gods warned him with a serious, solemn voice when they caught him watching. "You will lose pieces of yourself until nothing is left."

"Has that happened before?" the boy-god asked and the others around him grew grim and solemn.

"Two of us vanished," the goddess of the ocean, admitted quietly. "We asked Life and Death, the oldest of us, the ones watching over fate, if they knew anything but they hadn't seen them."

"We looked everywhere we could," the goddess of crafts said, who had built the eternal palace with her own two hands. "But they could not be found."

"Who were they?" the young god asked softly, almost afraid of the answer when he realized just how keenly the loss of the missing gods was felt by everyone. A heavy moment of silence followed his question.

"The goddess of love vanished first," the god of war answered, his voice solemn and heavy with old but not diminished grief.

"And then the god of celebrations and joy disappeared," the godling of remembrance, of yesterday and today and tomorrow, answered, soft like speaking any louder would further hurt their aching heart.

"They loved the world and it cost them everything," the goddess of storms and lightning added. "If you give up too much of yourself, we will lose you forever as well, little one. So don't listen to the mortals, they steal everything and give nothing back."

The little boy-god nodded seriously and promised to be careful so he could stay where he was. At home, safe with the others. Where he could learn more about his powers and how to control them. Where he could grow to be as tall and impressive and beautiful as all the others.

He combed out his hair dutifully and ushered the sun and moon on when they got tangled in the strands for too long and he let the stars shine bright every night. Every dawn and dusk his stars were the first to appear and the last to leave, connecting day and night as surely as the tides let the ocean kiss the land.

Until he heard a terrible cry and couldn't help but peek below. A girl was kneeling in the grass and thick plumes of fire were rising from somewhere behind her. A village burning and plundered, many bodies slain in the dirt. She held a little boy in her arms, who was bleeding heavily.

"Please," she begged and the boy-god realized she was talking to the stars, for the moon was asleep that night, held securely in his arms. She spoke to the stars, for there seemed to be no one else she could turn to. "Please let me save my brother. Somehow. Please, anything you want, anything I can give you is yours!"

The little god felt terrible for the girl and the boy, but he could not make or accept deals. That power belonged to one of the other gods and was carefully guarded and these days it was never used, kept far away from the mortal world lest another god vanished without a trace.

"Please," she whispered on a broken sob. "Please, if anyone is listening."

The little god's heart broke, splintering with an ache that he had not felt before, coddled and protected as he was in the eternal palace. He was listening, he thought as the girl sobbed, holding the bleeding boy with infinite care and a terrible, looming loss.

He was listening and he couldn't make deals, but...he looked at his hair. Stars were made of something special and there were only so many. But, he reasoned as he reached out and gently plucked one from his hair, there were so very many. Surely. Surely he could give one away.

So he let the star drop down, watched as it streaked across the sky and towards the girl, who looked up with a gasp, instinctively reaching out. She caught the star, holding the drop of white-gold, glowing power in her hands and she immediately pressed it to her brother's chest, whispering fervent prayers under her breath.

The boy's wounds closed and he gasped for air and the girl laughed and cried as she hugged him close and the little god laughed and cried with her, clapping his hands in delight.

As the girl at last let go of her brother, she looked up at the sky. "Thank you," she whispered with such heart-felt gratitude that it echoed in the little god's chest like a second heart-beat. "I will never forget this."

With those words she climbed to her feet, helped her brother onto her back and rushed away from the burning village. Away from the horrible people with hearts of soot and ash, towards the safety of the horizon.

The little god ducked away from the edge of the palace with a smile and he told no one about his little misbehaving, but none of the gods noticed one little star missing. No one noticed what he had done, but that didn't matter, because that little star had changed the lives of two people entirely.

The little god went about his life, caring for the stars and never letting the sun and moon tangle in his hair for too long and he held them only when they needed to sleep. As sweet as they were, the world needed them, though he made sure to always send them moving along with a little kiss, which made them giggle and glow brighter.

And then he heard another desperate voice one night. Most of the other gods were asleep, only a small handful were awake, whose domain either crossed into the dark or was the dark, so he could sneak to the edge of the eternal palace unnoticed.

It was a couple, weak and thin and unable to go on any further. And they prayed and begged for anyone to listen. Anyone at all. Just a little help, they said. Just a little miracle.

"We need to get this medicine to our families," the husband said with tears streaming down his face, his wife and he clutching bundled bottles to their chests. "Please, we walked so far just to get it. Take our souls after, but please, let us save them first."

So the boy reached into his hair and plucked out one of his stars. He dropped it over the edge, watching it streak across the sky and the husband and wife gasped and caught it, almost dropping it as they fumbled to keep hold of the bottles at the same time. The moment their hands touched the star, it soaked into their skin, briefly making their bodies glow.

When the glow faded, they were strong and recovered and they leapt to their feet, deeply grateful, before they ran on. The boy peeked over the edge and watched as they ran and ran until dawn crested and they reached a cute little town. And he watched with a relieved smile as they gave everyone the medicine they had risked their lives for, saving their people from a terrible illness.

With a giggle he went to bed, curling up among the strands of the aurora and he cushioned his head on all the colors of the sky as he drifted off.

Once more, none of the other gods noticed a star was missing and as time passed, the boy found himself growing bolder and bolder. He never forgot the faces of the girl and the couple, the relief and gratitude and how they used his gift, their wishes, to help those around them. To rescue the ones they loved.

More and more often he found himself wandering the edge of the eternal palace and more and more often he heard voices, calling out. A plea for help that was heard by no one, for the palace walls were thick and the gods were busy caring for their domains.

Not only that, the little god realized as he watched the gods go about their day. They were hurting, still, over the loss of their own. They upheld the balance, they ensured the seasons came and went, that crops grew and water flowed and the world kept moving forward, but their hearts were heavy. They grieved what the mortal world had taken and could no longer love it as they once had. Could no longer listen to it as they once had.

But the little boy did. He did not remember the missing gods and he always took care of his tasks swiftly. So he listened and sooner or later, he found himself helping. He didn't always give stars away, for some wishes were made during the day and the stars in his hair evaded his fingers like flowing water.

But he found he could ask the sun for help, could shine guiding lights with a gentle touch, illuminating protective caves to shelter travelers, guiding the lost and terrified out of deep forests and sometimes he used the sun to blind pursuers to allow defenseless people their escape.

It filled him with great joy to help and every star he sent down to the world at night to fulfill a wish was given with nothing but the hope that it would do good. That it would give the people what they needed and had asked for.

But as the other gods had warned him, the stars in his hair did not regrow. They became less and less to the point where the other gods noticed at last and they scolded the boy terribly, fearing for him, before telling him he was no longer allowed to leave the palace walls.

"Do not fall like the others," they warned him. "Guard the rest of your powers fiercely, little one. Or nothing will be left."

And, for a time, the boy did as they asked. But as the days passed, he noticed that more and more often he heard people call out. They were talking to the stars now, putting wishes on them and while many made him smile and clap his hands in joy, some made him feel rather fretful.

He worried, for the people who had no one else. He understood that the other gods didn't want to share more of their powers, that they had already given much of themselves when they had made the world and in the end, there was only so much to go around.

He was scared of falling, too. Of losing the home and family he loved so very much.

But in the end, he heard a child cry, helpless and small and all alone and he slipped outside when no one was watching and quickly dropped a star over the edge. He couldn't have ignored the little one, nor could he have ignored the quiet prayers of an old woman which drew him out of the palace once more after that.

The galaxy of stars in his hair had shrunk down to a glittering net and yet, he reached up and plucked another one, letting it drop to fulfil the old woman's wish that her children and grandchildren may survive the plague safely.

"Sweet little young one," the goddess of storms said when she found him a moment later, great grief in her voice. "Do you not wish to stay here with us? Do you feel unsafe or imprisoned? Are you unhappy?"

"No, of course not," he promised, reaching out and she picked him up, wrapping his arms around her. "I love you all so much."

"But?" she asked, quiet and gentle and still so very mournful.

"But I am loved and safe and happy," he said. "You all are here for me no matter what." He peered past her to the edge that she carried him away from. "But they don't have anyone."

"I understand, sweet child, but your stars will never return to you," the goddess said. "We cannot do anything to stop you from falling once you've given too much of your godly powers away. So please, keep the last few and save us and yourself the grief of loss."

The boy promised and she pressed a kiss to his temple and set him down to go play, but deep down, the boy was worried he could not keep that promise, even if he wanted to.

*.*.*

Would you like to read more? Go check out my patreon or masterpost for more of my short stories! Thank you very much for your support!

If you'd like to join the tag list, don't hesitate to let me know!

Tag List:

@laureleikirsch

#my writing #preview #gods and mortals #gods and deities #gods #fairy tale #fairy tale style #fantasy #I hope you'll enjoy this one!#i had a lot of fun writing it!#more stories to come soon!

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odditycircus-2002 · 3 months

Note

Hmm, any chance you could do some hcs with a Fem Mummy! Reader x Quan Chi (MK1) with the basic premise being that the reader was revived by Quan Chi and is actually happy with being alive (or at least close to it) and as a result is loyal to him and later fell in love?

A/N: I can indeed!😄 Hope you don’t mind, but I’m a fan of Corpse Bride and Imhotep from Brendan Fraser's "The Mummy".

Eternally Loyal

Admittedly, you were caught off guard when pulled from your eternal rest, only to be thrust to life once more. Yet it was soon replaced with sheer joy when realizing you are walking among the Land of the Living again. By the looks of it, you had the mysterious pale necromancer that stood above you, your now beating and glowing heart in his hand.

He introduced himself as Quan-chi, the most powerful sorcerer in Outworld, Master of the Dead, and now your reanimator. You sincerely thank him for bringing you back to life, as you had only begun to achieve your true ambitions and plans. Quan-chi suggests that you may still be able to after you settle your debt with him. According to your House's tradition, those who save a member of the House of L/N are now indebted to the first. Bringing life back to your revived corpse counts as keeping one's life in your book.

You don't doubt that, with your reanimation, you were undoubtedly gone for a long while and thus in a whole new world and unknown territory. You figured it'd be best to make nice with your guide if you want to gain any advantage.

Quan-chi smirked when you inevitably questioned how you could repay your new debt to him.

"You can start by serving under me until I deem your debt repaid in full."

"On your soul then..."

Which Quan-chi agreed, but whether or not he was sincerely remained to be seen.

Quan-chi had made it so you had to occasionally steal and absorb body parts from others to remain alive and whole. While Quan-chi resurrected your heart and soul and used to influence your actions, they can keep you tethered to the mortal plane for so long without refueling. So you keep yourself wrapped up as you were to not reveal your constantly rotting and healing body.

But even with such a weakness, you have been given strength as Quan-chi gifted you with the ability to drain the moisture out of anything by touch alone (excluding himself), control over sand, and become sand, your preexisting telekinetic abilities.

Since then, you have loyally served under Quan-chi, executing every order and task with near perfection without question. Fervently hanging on to his every word and feat of magic so you may one day use it for yourself when you feel the time is right. You also had no issue cutting down any of your fellow minions if you think they are disobedient to your master. To which Quan-chi is not against, even with one of the demons from his Sisterhood of Shadow. In fact, he's growing fond of your usefulness and how you serve him well.

As powerful as Ermac turned out to be, he was ultimately a failure in Quan-chi's eyes. The same applies to Ashrah, whom Quan-chi could not control. Which is a shame to the sorcerer, as both were powerful tools. Oh well, if you do not succeed at first, try again.

In comes you, a mummified Edenian Noble renowned for her ruthlessness, problem-solving, and tenacity during a warring era before Sindel’s Golden Era. Who has (yet) to disobey him. Unfortunately, you were cut down in your prime on the eve you were to marry your betrothed to secure an alliance with another nation. A shame, really, as you had plans for the future. But you're just happy to be alive.

It helps that Quan-chi praises you whenever you perform a task well for him, such as uncovering lost grimoires, to encourage you to continue aiding him and fulfilling your debt. Eventually, Quan-chi awards your efforts with gifts such as flowers or a new robe as you continuously serve him well in his quest to overthrow Liu Kang. With each gift, you could've sworn you felt your heart beating within your chest, and not hiding on Quan-chi's person.

Often, he would converse with you about his studies and discoveries, doing most of the talking as you just listened and reacted. You couldn't help but notice how Quan-chi treats you more amiably, almost as much as he is with Shang Tsung, his fellow sorcerer. Perhaps even as a companion, as he prefers to have you follow him for his tasks the most. You like to think its because the Sorcerer has the same admiration for you as you do for him, as silly as it sounds and which you would be caught absolutely dead saying aloud.

Speaking of the snake-like Sorcerer, Quan-chi proudly introduced you to Shang Tsung as his latest work of genius once. The latter critically looked you up and down and admired the magic used to keep you together. Although to not admit to Quan-chi's magical prowess, Shang Tsung would ask.

"How do you know this minion won't turn on you like the others?"

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, your looser wrapping unraveling and posing to strike down the blasphemous Sorcerer, but before you could make the blow, Quan-chi explains.

"She won't,"

Quan-chi would glance back at you and softly run a hand under your chin, which you followed with your head.

"But even if the impossible happens, I hold their heart."

Quan-chi would summon your purple and green heart into his hand, petting it with his free hand like a small pet.

"It would be such a waste if I must. Isn't that right, Y/N?"

You, of course, nodded. That was the closest you would receive as an admittance of love from someone like Quan-chi.

Playlist while writing this:

"Loyalty" - Maria's Theme from Mad Father

"In the Dark of the Night" -by Christopher Lloyd

"Mr.Sandman" -by The Chordettes

"Monster" -by Lady Gaga

" Dark Horse”-Cover by Our Last Night

“I miss the misery”-by Halestorm.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mortal kombat 1 #oddball speaks #mk1 #shang tsung #Quan-chi #Quan-chi x reader #mummy reader #oddball writes #ask answered #request #starman14

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princess-ibri · 11 months

Note

So I remember you said in your Disney-Verse you were going to use the scrapped plot line of Aladdin and Mozenrath learning they were long-lost brothers and that got me wondering how Cassim and Mozenrath's mother met and ended up having relations that ended in the conceiving of Mozenrath.

@rememberingmermaids Yea! Sorry for the wait, I had some other projects I needed to finish first.

So in the og story of Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves, Ali Baba's brother is named Cassim, and he dies when the theives discover him stealing from their cave. And Ali Baba ends up later marrying his son to his servant girl Morgiana after she helps save the family from the thieves when they try and sneak into his home to get revenge for stealing from them.

And since we know that some version of this story does happen in Aladdin's reality as Genie mentions it, I thought it made a ton of sense to have our Cassim be the son of Ali Baba. He's named for his uncle, he grew up poor and despised, so him talking about being called a streetrat and wanting more still totally works. Then his family finally gets a taste of the good life. Wealth and the comfort and security it brings.

But then something goes wrong.

Somehow the wealth fails. Maybe bad investments, bad luck. Whatever faitytale tropes befall once wealthy families to bring them low. Ali Baba can't find the magic cave again, it's moved to a new location (being magic and all). Cassim watches all that security fall away and his family that was so well respected when they were rich goes right back to being shunned once they're poor again.

His wife even leaves him. Though tbf to her, it had been an arranged marriage set up by his father. A reward for Morgiana, so he thought. Now she was a member of the family and not a servant! Never mind if maybe she'd wanted something else from her life. Like actual freedom.

Not that Cassim was a bad husband per se, he just wasn’t what she chose, nor he her. And when she sees an opportunity to forge her own life for once, she takes it.

Neither of them realize she's carrying his child.

So Cassim, desperate to regain a taste of what he'd had, goes on a desperate search to find that magical cave his father had told him stories of so many times.

Along the way he makes many friends and foes, more the later, which causes him to take up several aliases. Its under the guise of a lamp seller named "Hamid" that he meets a young adventuress named Zena, and the two soon fall in love and marry (after he's told her who he really is of course).

And for a while he's content.

But once they have a baby on the way, the old need,want,obsession comes back. He's got to find the treasure cave for the baby, for his family. To prove that he's not delusional and hasn't wasted most of his life on this.

He leaves. Fails. Comes back. They're both gone. He leaves again. And this time he finally succeeds. It doesn't feel like the success he hoped it would. But with nothing else to live for but gaining more gold, he claws his way to the top of this new incarnation of the 40 Thieves, and tries to block out the memories of his old life.

Morgiana meanwhile, has always had a talent for magic, and she uses it and her wits to get by in the world. For herself and her son. It's a hard life, constantly on the move, but it's a free one. And her young son it turns out shares her magical talent. For several years they're happy together.

Until they catch the eye of the sorcerer Destane, ruler of the Land of the Black Sand. He coveted Morgiana's power, and her beauty. When she refused him both, he turned his wrath on her, and unfortunately, his power was greater. Her son he took as his slave, and something of an apprentice, though only to make him more useful. The boy hated his captor, but was cunning, biding his time until he had learned enough in secret to overthrow him and take his place as the lord sorcerer of the Black Sands. His hatred of his erstwhile master and desperation to be his own, led him to greater and greater schemes of power. At one point to trade his true name in order to possess a magical gauntlet that would triple his power, a boon he would need if he were to achieve his goal of conquering the Seven Deserts.

And from ever on, he was known as Mozenrath.

***

Meanwhile on Jasmine's side, young sultan Hamed Bobolonius II (who's name we know from a deleted line in an earlier song draft x) was smitten the instant he saw his intended bride, the beautiful Princess Badroulbadour of Sherabad.

(So smitten, in fact, that he ended up picking a flower for his new bride from an enchanted garden, an act that ended up getting him into some hot water later on.)

The princess was unsure of her new betrothed at first but was so won over by his kindness and enthusiasm. Their story might not have as many twists and turns as Aladdin's parents did, but it had a lot of love. They were very happy together, especially when their daughter was added to their family, and were grateful for each moment they had together up until the Sultana's untimely death, soon after the appointment of the Sultan's new Royal Vizir.

(Badroulbadour, it may be supposed, was a much better judge of character then her overly trustful husband, and therefore was better off "out of the picture" in the schemes of Jafar)

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artzzyb00-27 · 11 months

Text

{💙Secret Admirer💙}

Taken from your family and brought up in a place you loathed was something screwed up. Even more so when you're experimented on to explore your "potential" in their eyes. That's how it was for reader, taken from Earth with a portal and raised by the Krang in attempt to create a weapon for mass conquer and destruction was torture.

Even more so when she got to age limit of training and was sent to Earth after the attempted invasion to try again. Secretly lightly sabotaging her "families" efforts at opportunity. It became greater with the turtles appearing in her life. She found them interesting, being in the near vicinity made her feel like she wasn't abnormal due to having powers that her captors gave her.

Every time they showed up to decipher the Krang's plans, she'd leave clues blatantly out, but not so obvious for them to get suspicious. After some watching from afar, she could tell that the one baring katanas and wearing blue as his color palette was the one giving orders. Drawing interest towards him from reader.

A few instances and being at the same place at the same time without interacting turned into her rescuing his shell any chance she could. It became scary how easily he got distracted and got his ass kicked. So using the very thing that made her a villain in anyone else eyes, she started turning the tide in favor of the turtles.

At some point after continuing to aide the guys, they realized their success wasn't just luck anymore. Specifically Leo's luck. One time when fighting some Foot Soldiers, they managed to get the slip on Leo, literally, and had him falling of a building. Instead of landing hard and cracking his shell, he slowed down in the air and landed on his feet without injury. Another incident was an attempted ambush on the Foot Soldiers trying to steal supplies at the docks and they knocked Leo out getting him kidnapped.

When his brothers couldn't reach him in time, the truck with an unconscious Leo began to drive away before it was shot at the tire, causing it to flip and have Leo fly out. After returning to the lair the brothers had tried to look through nearby security cameras to find the source of the blast. No chance. Cameras were already altered as if the altercation never happened.

Which only confirmed their believes that someone was helping. How it occurred, they didn't know. Till this point they've never seen magic before, or other mutants with powers so at first they believed it to be technologically advanced assistance. Like anti-gravitational beam guns, or biotech from afar.

When Leo was almost killed by a Foot Soldier catching him off guard, stopping mid-air floating with a katana aimed for Leo's throat and sent flying the opposite direction, Raph reached his limit.

"We can't pretend like that didn't happen!"

"I know Raph, but what do you want to do? Call 'em up and say, 'Hey, thanks for saving me! Also who are you?'" Rolling his eyes and trying to walk away from the conversation. Of all people to not be complaining about the help, Leo was not expected to be the one to act like this. Typically he'd be confrontational right away if it was happening to any other of his brothers.

"Hypocrite." That made the leader freeze. With the other two siblings hold their breathes. "If it was Mikey, you'd be begging Don' to help you investigate whoever was causing this to happen. Why is it so easy for you to ignore your own safety." With a hard sigh, Leo turned around with his head up and eyes closed.

"Fine. Let's find out who this person is." After some discussing, they came up with a plan. Donnie had been developing holo-bots. Helpful for training, and in-combat fighting against enemies. Using an AI design page that he pirated(as if he was spending 30$) he was able to make the holo-bots look like foot soldiers.

After some further detail fining, they set up the "ambush" of Foot Soldiers on turtle leader. And like planned, mystery hero showed up. Or more accurately, mystery heroine. When one of the holo-bots "cut" Leo's leg and he made a convincing groan of pain, reader leapt down and activated her powers. Before blowing them up though, they dissipated back to their mini-portable computers and Leo's injury was revealed fake.

When she finally realized he was examining her with intensity, she thought he was judging her or planning on how to attack. So being reasonable, she turned to flea but ended up being surrounded by the others. At an attempt to try and keep running, Raph pinned her cloak to a metal pole with his Sai.

"Why do you always keep saving my brother? Why you so keen on keeping him safe? Who the hell even are you?" As Raph continued getting closer, reader began zoning out and have and anxiety attack. Until Mikey makes his brother back up and helps reader calm down.

"You okay there?" With a swift nod, Mikey smiled and she gave small one back.

'At least Mikey can get through to her. Better him than any of us three.' Leo thought internally.

"I'm really sorry for our brothers behavior. We don't have a lot of friends so he's really used to being abrasive like he is with us." Reader smiled and took the Sai of her cloak.

"It's alright, I understand. I'm the same way sometimes believe it or not." She said giving Raph his weapon back, receiving a quiet apology in return.

Still silent Leo continued observing her, trying to find any malice that could be hidden. But there wasn't. This girl was genuine with her actions.

"My name is Reader. I save Leo because one I know how much you need him, and two, I recognize a kind spirit when I see one. He's worthy of saving. As are all of you, but you're brother is quiet clumsy."

With embarrassment, Leo tries to ignore the smirks on his brother's faces and talk to the girl who had been saving his life.

"Thank you, I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't wanted to save me. I hope you continue to assist us in the future." With a slight nod she gave Donnie her contact information while continuing to explain.

"I came from Earth, but the Krang took me a long time ago. Experimented on me till I turned eighteen and was sent during the attempted invasion. I'm not helping them or the Foot though, I only pretend so they don't bother me. In turn I sabotage what I can and make sure I don't get caught." Admirable, cool, smart, powerful, kind-hearted. Smitten. Leo's smitten. Does he advance it? No, he'd make Raph leader first. But god, was she attractive on all his boxes.

"Hello? Are you there?" Reader asked concerned, oblivious to what was happening. Leo tried stumbling out an apology till Mikey's laughter interrupted him. Which gained him ten laps for later. "Alright, well I need to get going. Before the Foot Clan gets suspicious and all. Byyyyyyye!!"

Using her powers to fly-jump far away and continue racing through rooftops quickly, Leo just smiled at her using her purple essence to navigate her own way. Hearing a cough he turned to look at his brothers who were smirking in amusement.

"Gimme that contact Donnie. Donnie, Donnie! Give it to me!" He continued to yell chasing after his brother who was laughing(chortling) his ass off. Raph and Mikey followed after them laughing to.

After that, for a while she did keep in touch. Would hang out at night and brought pizza sometimes for them to eat but at one point she just disappeared. Obviously, it didn't make sense. Especially when trying to message her, the phone auto sent with a notice that the phone number was out of service. A couple months passed and the brother's assumed she was sent back to Dimension-X1416.(Get the reference?)

Leo was hit the hardest, especially with little to no fights during the time she was gone. The lair been more quiet and Leo couldn't handle it anymore, so he left the lair for a bit to clear his mind. Receiving looks from his family.

When on top of the Guggenheim Museum watching city lights from afar he sighed out.

"Something on your mind, turtle boy?" That voice. Turning his head in surprise, Reader stood their with an upgraded version of her old battle outfit. It was mixed with casual clothing like purple Jordans and fingerless gloves. Smiling hard Leo got up and raced over to her.

"Holy shit!" he yelled and swooped her into a hug and spun around a bit. With her laughing as well. Setting her down, he got a good look on her. She gained a few new scars but minor ones. One the went over her nose and another up her neck.

"What's with the look?"

"You were gone for months without telling us. What happened?" Shrugging she walked near the edge took a deep breathe. Leo went over to her just enough so people below wouldn't see him.

"Foot Clan moved to Japan to gain equipment for something. Since the fight was moving over, I had to leave. And I wanted to make sure they didn't grow suspicious of me being on the phone constantly, due to a certain cute mutant turtle with a blue bandana was texting me 'Good morning' messages." Getting embarrassed at her rant/scolding/flirty statement, Leo rubbed the back of his neck laughing softly.

"I mean why do you think I saved you? Yeah I wanted to help but, there's are multiple reasons why I mainly saved you compared to your brothers." Again getting more hot under his skin Leo smirked and looked up.

"Glad to know the magical sparks mutual huh?"

"Don't push it."

#bay tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2014 #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2016 #bayverse tmnt #bayverse tmnt fanfic #tmnt 2016 #tmnt #bayverse turtles #tmnt 2014 #bayverse leo #bayverse leo x reader #tmnt out of the shadows #tmnt oots #tmnt bayverse

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ghostingtheconflict · 2 months

Text

PROLOGUE:

B̶̧̡̧̡̠͕̣͇̫̰̠̙̯͎̪̫͇͍̟̄̅̔͜ͅͅr̶̨̧̢̨̡̧͚͖̥̞̻͍̪̟͈̰͎͔̯̺̃͐̂ͅë̷͕̠̜͉̰̫͖̱̻̬̹̥̖́͐̎͗̓̉̑͐̕͘̚͘ă̴̲ḵ̷̘̱͎̀̄̾̉̏̅̕͜i̸̢̬̱̲͍̱̭̪͇̜̟͌̀̓͂̍̐͜n̸͈͌̓̾̓́̉̈̇̓͆̀̆̅͛g̸̡̡̢͔͖̺̫̰̘̲͛͂͑̂͐̽̽̎̽̓͌͑̑͒͜͜͜ ̸̧̛̛͓̭̱̞͈͚̠̟̜̳̻̣̪͈̫̓͌̌̿̈́̎͊̇́̕ͅT̶͓̻̬̼̺͔̯̘͎̠͈̘̘͇̣̖̘̱͖̫̞̭̰͊̃̉̐͆̈́̈́̉̋̔̐͐͌͐̉̇̚͘͠h̷̳̜͖̱̹͆̊͌̾̿̌̃̀͋̈́̋̿̋̊̆́̃̚͠ͅë̴͖̹̬̯̳̫̤̖̘͖̱̠̝̣̩͎͇́̾̆̅͆̓̀̔͒̈́͋͗̿̍̕̕̚͜͜͝ ̵̢͚͇̜̦͕̈̎̌͒͒̈́̒͌̑̍̓̋̈́͒̎̾̒̏͝ͅB̸̢̧̨̖̩̖̫̹̹͖͋̋̊͒̆̋͆͛̓̓͂̃̑̿͊̀̓͘̕̚̕͠a̷̢̮̥͙̩̖̟̣͔̼̻̠͖͉̱͇͋́ͅͅn̷̡̢̤̖̗̬͈̈́̆̃͑̀̍̍̓̓̌̃͆̓̈́̓̀͘͠ͅk̵̡̻̱̟͈̋͐͒̃͗̚. Part 1

Henry stood at the front of the building. It was a familiar one, for he had seen it more times than he could remember it. New timeline, same old heist that goes wrong.

He couldn't even reset earlier than the bank anymore thanks to those assholes at the C.C.C. Which was a little annoying but whatever, they couldn't stop him anyway.

The middle of the desert was always a wonder for him, hot and scalding the way it is. And yet, there it was, proudly standing, the 'bank’ in question, it was more of a vault if he was being honest to himself, after all there were very few people here.

There wasn't much to do at the moment other than go ahead and start. But this loop felt. Different. He could feel it somehow.

So, he did the one thing that he could to test it, and approached the side of the building. Waiting to see the 'options’ he had to go with.

And that was when it happened. When he expected to see the disguise or the bombs. There was nothing but completely new things to go on about. No teleporter, no shovel, just new stuff like an option to threaten security.

To say he was shocked was an understatement. This never happened. No matter how many times he traveled all the way back just for the heck of it.

He kinda feels curious on where this will lead him, and so he chooses the first option that feels like it would get him a fail.

> Smash Ball

The moment he spawns this in, a very familiar hedgehog spins in and knocks him out of the picture to try to get the ball, with a narrator loudly announcing GAME as he does so.

Reference, his stand and voice of failure simply tells him “And the winner is ! Blue blur !” before he goes back to the options.

Oh yeah. This is gonna be a fun one. Let's see how much chaos he can cause since the timeline is fucked like this.

A couple of trial and errors in new possibilities are nice. He was starting to get bored of overthrowing Reginald, killing the Right Hand Man, betraying Ellie or Charles, or even working for the government after all.

This. All of this was shaping up to be a new fun playtime to him. So off to the next fail !

> Threaten

Henry jumps in and tries to hold one of the guards hostage to threaten the other by opening the doors for him to steal the cash. But the guard is able to throw him to the ground and aim his gun to Henry's face. 'Should have taken some fighting lessons.’ Reference says mockingly.

> Puffle

He summons a black grumpy furball that seems uninterested in helping in his shenanigans. That is until Henry reaches in his pocket to see what he could use and sees a ring-like treat which seems to make the little guy more excited. He feeds it to the puffball and it explodes into flames, flying around in the air burning whatever it was on its path until it landed in one of the cars. The guards, scrambling around uselessly, try to put out the fire and catch the creature, which gives the opportunity for Henry to sneak by, pickpocket their keys and enter the building while they are distracted.

He didn't see all the fails as of now. But he can always go back for them later.

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

Meanwhile elsewhere in the desert:

The Chaos Containment Center, or C.C.C as most who knew of them called it, was not in fact containing chaos at the moment. If anything they were panicking over the new incredibly high amount of chaos that was currently concentrating within an area of the desert. And if the screens were right about this. Henry Stickmin was the source.

Henry Stickmin is not really news in the C.C.C due to the amount of incidents they can trace back to him. A category 9 to 10 tends to do that.

This. However. Was far too different from the expectations of the guy.

Something broke. Horrifically at that. And if they don't fix it, everything that this world knows and understands will break too.

If the source was something like a misplacement or alteration of events as we know it, the multiversal fix-it button would be able to weed out and destroy the anomaly. This never worked in trying to destroy Henry however, to the disappointment of many of the people there.

Not this time tho. Something else is happening and no one has the answers any of the employees working can give.

The directors in every branch are trying to keep the peace and search for what the hell went wrong. Others have currently barricaded themselves in a panic, some were trying to see if this was the first few stages of a possible apocalypse and so on and so forth.

They knew that their biggest concern and life long enemy was at the center of it. The issue is that through some camera feed they have, they were able to conclude Stickmin had no idea why this was happening either. And that was bad.

If it was a deliberate attempt to cause the increase of Entropy again they would be able to make Henry stop by hijacking some of his powers for an endless loop of fails until he stopped it and let the world progress again without incident. Some of the higher members in the facilities shudder at the thought of one of those happening again.

Seriously, how the hell can someone 'accidentally’ split a continent in half ???

But if Henry didn't know why the timeline broke either. Then something or someone else is in play here. This not only means that there could be someone more dangerous than the kleptomaniac messing with everything, and worse, going undetected, but this could also mean some higher being is interfering or Henry's powers might be developing a little Too Much sentience for anyone's liking.

The thought alone puts fear in all of them.

Best case scenario ? They put things the way they were before without too many hiccups.

The Better case scenario ? Henry is gone and the chaos levels of the world decrease exponentially. Killing whatever it is that's currently causing this.

The worst case scenario ? Pray to god that their reality itself ends quickly and not with the borders of their world being slowly consumed by whatever all powerful hungry void might come for them.

Hope is thin, and all they can do is search for a way out of the mess that has been created.

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

Elsewhere in the skies:

Something happened. They don't know what. But something definitely did.

“So are we just gonna stand in here oooor ?” says Randy Radman.

They all knew instinctively that they somehow could get out of the portraits their souls were trapped in after their deaths today.

That never happened before, not even when Terrence was the leader, which was one of the most chaotic and fearful years to live as a toppat due to how close the clan was to falling had Reginald not overthrown the man.

None of the alive toppats that passed through seemed to be able to see them either. They didn't have enough chaos energy to be able to.

This however wasn't going to stop most of them from helping their clan anyway. They may no longer be the leaders but they still had loyalty to them.

The issue is that Terrence seems terrified to leave his own portrait. His chaos level was always higher than most leaders. Which was both a blessing thanks to the setting of powers he had which had helped in some situations while he was alive, and a curse due to his reckless attitude.

So the fact the man was quiet and afraid of what could be out there that freed them was something to worry.

“We still don't know how it's possible that we can leave now. And with the idiot over there refusing to talk we have no idea what could happen. Hell for all we know, our souls might get sucked out of existence if we get out of the airship !” Jacques had inquired.

Most of them were pondering on what to do. Sir Wilford IV had other plans however.

“Alright. How about we compromise here, fellas ? Some of us can rotate between the divisions to keep an eye out for anything that could be malicious, anything that might give ya some sort of 'this shouldn't be here’ feeling. And on the other hand, I know for a damn fact that some of y'all are curious on what outside looks like nowadays.” He looks at Randy, who has moved closer to the exit now but stops acting like he was just caught in the act.

“So if we can spread out and cover more ground while relaying important information to each other we might be able to find this 'issue’ and either deal with it so it doesn't try anything funny with the clan, or try to make it side with us so the government can't do anything too drastic.” Several nods and murmurs of agreement happen. Right now they know next to nothing on how and why this happens. But they sure as hell are not going to let this opportunity slip away.

As they all leave to experience the wonders of the living world once more. Terrence still remains behind.

The thing is, he was afraid, but not enough to let it stop him from doing whatever he wanted. However, something deep inside him just kept telling him to not say anything, to bide his time with this. Let them think fear is driving him to silence and watch as whatever happens unfold.

With a grin on his face, as no one else was in their personal hell besides him now, he knew that the promises of nothing but destruction would come soon. To simply wait for it.

He wasn't sure what the 'it’ would be, but he had a feeling he would know it when he saw it.

And he was nothing if curious enough to wait.

End of part 1

Hope you guys enjoy this one for now.

We still have some other PoVs to go through in part 2 so be excited teehee.

#the henry stickmin collection #thsc au #Ghosting The Conflict #C.C.C #Toppat leaders #henry stickmin #au fic

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