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abbysimsfun · 4 months ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 143 (The Wedding Reception)

After the newlyweds and their guests posed for photos, they had just enough remaining light to mingle before the caterers - Suri and her grandmother, Clara Bjergsen - put out the food. With permission, Ash raced into the spiral maze to take a selfie with Sophie the Snail, searching for treasures in the ferns beneath the carved stone slug.

What he found looked confusing - like a mint green box with a circle of numbers wearing earmuffs, and Ash raced back to ask his family what it was. "I think it could be a telephone," Heather guessed. "They used to be plugged into walls."

Felix smiled. "I haven't seen one of those for at least sixty years! It's a rotary dial phone. You dial the number by spinning the wheel. But people used to think this took too much time, so they invented phones with buttons and speed dials, and these fell out of use."

Ash was enthralled by what Felix knew of history. "Will it still work?"

"I don't think so. Most landlines have been discontinued because everyone uses mobile phones these days."

Ash glanced eagerly at Heather and Conrad. "Can I still keep it? It looks so cool!"

Heather smiled. "Of course you can. That's how Sophie the Snail works. Leave something for someone else to find, and whatever you find yourself is yours to keep!"

Curious Conrad looked at the old fashioned phone. "I wonder who left it there."

"Do you think it was the time traveler Emit Relevart is looking for?"

Heather shrugged. "I looked him up online after we saw the report on Simlandia National, but I didn't find out anything they weren't already reporting on the news. He loves science and technology, believes in time travel, and has blue hair."

Felix and Lilith perked up as Lavender called her mother's attention. "You saw the news report, too? I've been trying to convince Felix to take a detour to Willow Creek on our way back to Britechester to see if we can find him."

The former ghost smiled at his beloved. "After everything with Ash in Sulani, you still want to jump through time? I've told you the past wasn't nearly as wonderful as the present."

"Right, but you said it wasn't as wonderful because I wasn't there. My podcast would blow up if I could talk about what it's like to time travel! But more than the podcast, I want to see things you've seen, with you, and I bet a time traveler could help us!"

Though less enthusiastic, Felix took seriously his responsibility to make Lilith happy. Love like this was exactly what he'd stuck around for, waiting for his chance to live again. "It would be a dream to walk miles of old streets with you, Lil. We'll go to Willow Creek, find this 'Emit,' and we'll see what he knows about the future."

To make it to Willow Creek and home to Britechester before too late, Felix and Lilith left soon after food was served. Kris also returned early to San Myshuno with Betta when the four-year-old grew tired and cranky, but there were still plenty of loved ones left to enjoy the buffet-style spread, including fruit-decorated cupcakes instead of a cake, just like Lavender had requested.

They were grateful to Suri and her grandmother for providing such wonderful food. Conrad even gave Suri a huge amount of money autonomously (all of it wtf?! At least we have a money tree), calling it an investment into her takeover of the Salty Paw, and her hope to turn it from a dive bar to a slightly more upscale licensed cafe.

"I can't believe you and Heather would do that for me," said Suri with a smile and warm embrace for the groom. "My catering rates are a lot lower than this!"

"You're a great chef and we believe in your ideas. Hazel loves you, and Heather and I believe in your plans for the Salty Paw. Just try not to lose that smell about the place. We'll miss it if you really clean it up."

Suri laughed. "You're in luck. I don't think that smell would disappear even if I tore down every single wall and built from the ground up."

Heather spent extra time catching up with her sister Holly, who she hadn't spent meaningful time with since the winter holidays. "Life is busy in the city with Kris and two busy girls, but that's nothing compared to what you've been through lately."

"I really think Ash has been okay since it happened, but we're going to take him to a counselor, regardless. He has a lot of questions about everything, but he really seems like himself."

"But how are you doing? Your son was kidnapped!"

"Honestly? As long as I remind myself he's okay, I don't beat myself up with guilt. But sometimes I watch him sleep just to make sure he's still there. Conrad wants to put a sofa in his bedroom so I get enough rest for the baby."

"And his ex is definitely going to prison?"

Heather nodded. "She's not getting a jury trial and Rafa gave up details on several unsolved cases, plus the whereabouts of some weapons stockpiles around the city, so Felix is fairly confident he'll get his sentence down to a year, at most, because he was a minor for most of the stuff he's wanted for."

"He killed all those men; aren't you worried he's dangerous?"

Heather shook her head. "I used to be, but I met him. And after everything he's done, I'd trust him with my own life. We would have wanted him here for the wedding if he wasn't in custody."

As the night wore on, guests ate and chatted while Lavender occupied her doting grandparents' attention, and Heather finally found a moment to chat with Mortimer about her recent trip to Selvadorada. She'd been meaning to ask him about the medallion she and Spencer had seen at the museum, inscribed with a message from Malcolm A. Landgraab to Lady Victorine Goth, but she'd been so busy since her return.

"Lady Ravendancer was my great-great-grandmother," admitted Mortimer, his brow creased in thought. "Family rumours of her infidelity to my great-great-grandfather, Lord Samuel Goth, have carried for over a century, but the medallion would be the first piece of evidence to support it."

The writer smiled to himself as he considered the historical discoveries he might find - a dramatic story of betrayal and spellcaster magic, if they were lucky. "If my great-great-grandmother had an affair with a Landgraab, it could explain how the families became such fierce rivals in business. The Landgraabs wanted to settle the west, but the Goths wouldn't let them do it alone."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the old pirate's curse you told me about?"

Mortimer shot her a look of sympathy. "It might. I should make a trip out to visit the family archives in Willow Creek; it might give more insight into this medallion in the jungle."

She thanked him as the moon came out above the trees. Lavender curled into a ball to nap on the benches near her sleepy Aunt Hazel and Uncle River - it had been a long day and was now well past her bedtime - and the guests slowly began to wish the newlyweds well and head home. Ash made his way to the treehouse to play, changing into warmer attire as a sign the wedding festivities were drawing to a close.

Heather and Conrad had no time for a honeymoon and returned to their busy lives in Brindleton Bay, but they would cherish the memories made today for the rest of their lives. ->

<- Previous Part (Wedding Album) | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: And that's it! Conther is married!! I realize this reception was a lot of just letting sims do autonomous things and didn't have any photogenic traditions like first dances and cake-cutting, but letting sims be sims gives surprising plot sometimes! It led to Conrad and Heather giving money to Suri "to invest in her upscale cafe," which I didn't plan for but it's indicative of how supportive this legacy family is, and they've accepted Suri despite the scandalous start to her relationship with Hazel, so I liked it! (After getting over the initial shock of having zero simoleons out of nowhere! This autonomous interaction is always such a jump scare, like 'where is all my money?!' 😂)

I also got to send Ash for a selfie with Sophie, to mirror the one his mother took at the statue in childhood because someone (I think @pixeldistractions? I'm sorry if I'm misremembering!) suggested making it tradition, while also tying it in to the Blast From the Past event. No he didn't really find the phone under there as part of the quests but since it's a common hiding place for some exciting things, I had to pretend he did. He really found some snowdrops, which is cool because winter just ended for the next 16 years! Nonetheless, he'll hold on to them, because my sims hoard things in their inventories like mad, just in case I can use them later.

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shirefantasies · 1 year ago

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Sweet Spot- Boromir x Reader

Warnings: teensy bit suggestive

Lie down was the echo of your every thought, even as your gaze was pierced by blue at the lady Galadriel’s stare, even as your heard her whisper into those dark crevasses about the fear and apprehension held deep in your heart, your own personal insecurities amplified by your beloved wizard companion’s fall. If Gandalf had failed, after all, what if you were not enough? Your exhausted mind posed, and if so, would the man you’d come to love on your journey tire of you? Find you short of the glory amidst which he was raised, unfit for great white halls and soaring towers? Perhaps you were simply out of place.

You are exhausted, the Lady of Lórien’s voice echoed once more through your mind with a flutter of her golden lashes, such times change many a thought. Go to him. He will show you every answer and more. Perhaps he shall benefit from your presence as well.

At that, your gaze fell from the Lady’s small smile, drifting out to the smattering of ancient trunks, each one extending to the heavens with its spreading green hands. Steps spiraled up most of them, but your hollow met the earth, carven as it was into the tree’s base.

With one final nod Galadriel’s way, you accepted her wisdom and strode softly across the damp ground and fallen leaves to one of the hollows. To your luck, you had chosen the one in which Boromir reclined, and when he caught sight of you a smile broke across his face, striking some tension out of your muscles with the shock of joy. Extending an arm, Boromir beckoned you closer, and you quickly obeyed, dropping down to his side upon the cushions that filled the hollow.

“A rare luxury,” he commented, wrapping an arm around you the moment you settled into him, your back to his chest, “is this not? Here we are, clean and safe again in a bed no less! Well, a bed of sorts.”

You’d traveled with the man enough to recognize when his tone opened itself up to coloring with false cheer, and despite his warm embrace this was one of those times. His words hardly struck your ears for all your concern.

“What is the matter? Did something happen? Or is it just...everything?" You did not dare speak the wizard's name. Not yet.

"All the words the Lady spoke," Boromir replied, body deflating against yours, "she spoke to me of Gondor falling, about my father, and though she told me not to lose hope, how can I not?"

"Lady Galadriel spoke into the pits of my worry as well," you rotated in his hold to face him properly, his forehead hitting yours immediately, “but she also reminded me that our exhaustion changes many a thought. Whether it is true in your eyes or not, you are a great man and just as well a son. I see it in the way you care for the hobbits and all you meet. You may feel you can get no rest here in these woods, but please try. For me. For Frodo and the others.”

“Your words are true and sweet as your heart. What would I do without you?” Boromir’s breath fanned your face, his arms snaking even further about you as his smile began creeping back.

“They were not my words alone.”

“Oh, but from who else would I have taken them?” Shaking his head and whispering your name, Boromir pressed his lips just beneath your ear. “I shall rest indeed if only you stay here with me. I need you.”

Another kiss, this time down to your collarbone. "Please."

Of course he needn't ask you twice. Swallowing, you simply nodded your response, tilting your head for access as Boromir's lips traveled back up your neck. Minutes passed like moments as your beloved nuzzled you, nose and lips warm against you; he held you there in relish of your skin and you welcomed it even as you teased him.

"Is this what you call a rest?" You breathed, grinning wickedly. "Will you sleep like this, then?"

"Believe me," he smiled, "the feeling of you in my arms is all the rest I could ever desire."

Your heart somehow leapt and quieted at that, all its sinking ceased at words so soothing...and so heating, too. Much as you doubted yourself, it was true that in Boromir's arms you felt to be enough. More than, you reflected as he smoothed your hair and kissed your forehead.

“I confess I lost hope for a moment too,” you told him, “I wondered how I could survive this if Ga- if others could not. How I might live up to all those I love, and yet now I see.”

“What is that? What do you see?” Boromir’s green eyes peered at you intently, pupils wide and shining and brows furrowed slightly in concern.

Smiling softly, you reached up to trace the lines of his cheek with your hand, soft skin and rough stubble alike brushing the back of it.

“We all carry this same burden in one way or the other. And yet when we let ourselves be seen there it goes again. We fall when abiding by our own strength only- I have yours as you have mine.” Your hand slid further down, smoothing the front of Boromir’s tunic and then grasping his.

With that, he brought your joined hands to his lips. “Well said. You see? That is why I love you. Why I need you.”

“And I love you,” you replied breathily between Boromir’s rapid pecks, giggling as he went right back to lavishing attention upon the sweet spot on your neck, “I need you just as well. My captain of the white tower. My strength, my guardian.”

“My heart,” Boromir shot back, stopping his barrage to rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, finally settling down; his heart began to slow beneath your hand, still firmly grasped in his against his chest, “shall we now rest?”

“We shall,” you replied with a grin, leaning on him and reclining all the way upon the blanketed floor, “sweet dreams, love.”

“Only such now that you are by my side.”

“I will never be found anywhere else,” you whispered, pressing one final kiss to the crown of Boromir’s head, heart soothed as it beat in time with his.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 | Message/Reply/Ask to join 🥰

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #boromir #boromir x reader #gender neutral reader #suggestive #a wee bit at least hehe

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starlightrosa · 1 year ago

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Fizzarolli's Nerves

Summary: Fizzarolli is preparing for Mammon's yearly clown contest, and he's getting nervous, as he just has to be perfect. But all this practicing is disrupting Asmodeus's plan of relaxing with his beloved. That won't do at all.

Pairing: Fizz/Asmodeus

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mind-Rotting Fluff. (Author regrets nothing.)

(My very first fic! Please be nice <3)

“You’ll do it, Fizz. You’ll be fine. You need to be perfect for Mammon. Always perfect.” the imp mumbled, practicing everything he felt he needed to practice in order to win Mammon’s clown contest for the tenth time in a row. Fizz knew the elements of the contest off by heart, having won it so many times. So everything running through that little imp’s head was covered.

Balloon animals. Pie gags. Comedy section. Singing, dancing, acrobatics. You name it, Fizz practiced it. There was certainly no shortage on what Fizzarolli could do, and he had to win. He had to be perfect.

That was how Asmodeus, King of Lust and Fizz’s loving partner- er, BUSINESS partner, found him.

“What’s the difference between a snowman and a snow-woman? The snowballs! Wait, no. More energy, I need to have lots more energy. Like, twenty seven coffees kinda energy. Okay. You got this, Fizz. You got this. Try again. What’s the difference between a snow man and a snow woman? The snowballs! Hmm, still missing something. What could I do? Maybe I could juggle? Do a pose? Maybe I could hit myself in the face with a snowball? Um… ah, think, Fizz!” the jester rambled.

Ozzie yawned as he came into the living room where Fizz was, the rooster rubbing at his eyes.

“Froggie, it’s eight in the morning. Are you seriously practicing this early in the morning? Come back to bed, babe. You’re gonna be exhausted…” Asmodeus murmured, the grand lord rubbing at his eyes.

Alas, the imp did not heed Ozzie’s warning.

“Ozzie, I have to be perfect for Mammon. If I’m not perfect, then I’ll lose! And I don’t wanna lose, that just-! Ugh. It just can’t happen, okay? I need to be perfect. I need to be better than perfect! I-!”

And that was when Ozzie got on his knees and scooped Fizz off the ground, pulling his beloved into a hug. Despite initially struggling to get out, Fizz soon relaxed and sunk his head into his lover’s chest.

“Fizzie~” Ozzie coaxed, using that voice that Fizz liked to hear. Honey rich and sweet, it always comforted Fizzarolli enough to talk about what was bothering him, and it brought Ozzie some peace of mind to be able to know what was distressing his beloved imp partner.

“Ugh. Ozz, what if I’m not good enough this year? What if I don’t win?” Fizz asked. Ozzie just chuckled.

“Fizz, you’ve won for nine times straight. Ten times this year, guaranteed. And you wanna know why you win so much? Cause you got some talent about you. Plus, Mammon says he wants the best, and we all know you’re the best he’s got. And besides, if that fat Christmas tree wants something better, he just isn’t gonna find it. Plus he won’t give the others a chance, he’ll pull the strings so you win anyway, and I’ll put money on that bullshit.”

“I need to win, Oz! And I need to practice if I want to win. Can you let me go?” Fizz asked, trying to gently pry himself out of Asmodeus’s arms. The King of Lust, however, did not budge a single bit.

“Well, I would on any other day, but I am not having my Fizzie Frog being anxious as fuck. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go back to bed, watch a stupid rom-com, and laugh at it, spending time with each other along the way.”

“Nice thought. But maybe later, Ozzie.” Fizz murmured. And that was when Asmodeus’s grip tightened slightly.

“I don’t think I phrased it as a question, Froggie~” Asmodeus responded, the Lord of Lust’s fingers moving slightly towards Fizz’s stomach. Fizz squirmed a little in Ozzie’s arms, already knowing where this was going.

“Ozzie, don’t you fucking dare!” Fizz yelped, biting back a smile.

“Oh, but I do fucking dare, baby~ give Ozzie that tum-tum, and I’ll tickle those worries right outta ya!” he declared, his fingers finally landing as he snuck them up Fizzarolli’s jester shirt, softly poking and scratching along Fizz’s belly.

Poor Fizzarolli had no chance to resist.

“Pffffhahahaha! O-Ozziehehehe!” Fizz giggled, gently squirming side to side in his lover’s arms, trying to gently slap Asmodeus’s tickly fingers off.

“Hands to yourself, Froggie. Don’t make me get them out of the way~” Asmodeus teased.

Fizz pouted playfully even as he struggled a bit. Rough tickles made him laugh a lot, but these soft and gentle tickles were much worse sometimes if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

ESPECIALLY if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

Ozzie saw the playful pout and he tutted. His Fizzy, pouting at tickles? Oh, that just would not do, no sir.

Asmodeus migrated his gentle scratches down to Fizzarolli’s hips, enjoying the squeaky laughter that slipped out of his beloved’s mouth. “Aww, someone’s squeaky. Squeaky Fizzie.”

“Hahahaha!!! A-Asmodeus, it tickles! Q-Quihihit it!” Fizzarolli managed to press out, a dark black blush adorning his cheeks. Asmodeus had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop audibly cooing at how goddamn cute his boyfriend was being.

“Not until you agree to come relax with me, Froggie. Just say that you’re done practicing for the day and these tickles will stop. How ‘bout that, huh? Seems a fair deal to me.”

“B-But I can’t stop!”

“If you can’t stop, then neither do these tickles, Froggie.” Asmodeus cooed, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers slipped up to Fizz’s torso to prove a point, beginning to gently count his beloved’s ribs. “Two. Four. Six. Eight…”

Fizzarolli was lost in snorting laughter as he felt Asmodeus’s fingers lightly working his ribs.

“Ahahahaha, hehehehe! N-Not fahahahair, Ozzie! Hahahahaha!” Fizzarolli cackled, the odd snort leaving him. For Lucifer’s sake, how could one imp be this cute? Asmodeus felt his heart squeeze in adoration with every snort that came from Fizzarolli’s mouth.

“All is fair in love and laughter, Froggie.” Asmodeus shot back.

Fizzarolli threw his head back, his jester’s hat jangling as he did so. Satan’s beard, it tickled so much!

“Aah! Ah, ah! Nohohohohahaha! Ozzie, not there! Not there, plehehehease!!” Fizzarolli begged, feeling his lover’s fingers tracing at that one spot at the crook of his neck.

Ozzie only chuckled, not stopping the traces. “I’ve not even done anything yet, Fizzie Frog. You can’t be that ticklish here, surely?” he asked, though Ozzie knew much, much differently. It was one of his little rituals he did. Before they both went to bed, Ozzie would give a gentle kiss on Fizz’s neck each night. The imp was rather ticklish on his neck though, and the feeling of Fizz slamming his face into Ozzie’s chest, trying to muffle his ticklish giggles never failed to bring a smile to the Sin’s face.

“N-No, I’m nohohohot!” Fizz lied, immediately going for the defensive move. But Asmodeus was no fool when it came to his beloved partner. Ozzie knew Fizz’s tells, just as Fizzarolli knew his.

“Is that so, Froggie? Funny, I seem to remember that you can barely handle my goodnight kisses on that neck of yours. Like, all I do is this…” he explains, landing a kiss on Fizzarolli’s neck, right into the crook of his neck with an overexaggerated “MWAH!” noise, grinning wickedly. “…And you just fall about laughing!”

Fizz, as expected, burst into hysterical giggles as he kicked his robotic legs every which way, trying desperately to not kick his beloved in the face.

“O-Ozzie! Stop it, hahaha! Stop it, that tickles, Ozzie!” Fizz cried out, a wide smile betraying his true feelings.

Then Asmodeus decided to get a little bit mean. He gently held Fizz against his chest and nuzzled the crook of his imp partner’s neck… before blowing a soft raspberry into the crook. Fizz absolutely squealed.

“EEEEEEEEK! HAHAHA, AAAH HAHAHA! SHIT, HAHA! OKAY, OZZIE, OKAY!” the ticklish little imp shrieked, going limp in Asmodeus’s arms. And that was when Ozzie knew he’d had enough.

“Thought as much, babe.” Asmodeus smirked, finally switching the mood from playful to cuddly as he stopped the tickles, his fingers softly scratching the top of Fizzarolli’s head. The imp melted under his touch as Ozzie walked back to their shared bedroom, the doors closing behind them.

Asmodeus settled Fizz under the covers with him. And soon the pair drifted off, smiles on both of their faces as the sounds of that dumb rom-com in question, Pretty Woman, played in the background forgotten by them both.

Finito! Hope you enjoyed this one :)

#helluva boss tickle #lee!fizzarolli #ler!asmodeus #ticklish!fizzarolli #helluva boss fic #tickle fic #rosa writes fics

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ohdorothea · 3 months ago

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More information about the tournament here and lyrics are below the cut! Happy voting!!!

The Bolter lyrics

By all accounts, she almost drowned

When she was six in frigid water

And I can confirm she made

A curious child, ever reviled

By everyone except her own father

With a quite bewitching face

Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless

Excellent fun till you get to know her

Then she runs like it's a race

Behind her back, her best mates laughed

And they nicknamed her The Bolter

Started with a kiss

"Oh, we must stop meeting like this"

But it always ends up with a town car speeding

Out the drive one evening

Ended with the slam of a door

Then he'll call her a whore

Wish he wouldn't be sore

But as she was leaving

It felt like breathing

All her fuckin' lives

Flashed before her eyes

It feels like the time

She fell through the ice

Then came out alive

He was a cad, wanted her bad

Just like any good trophy hunter

And she liked the way it tastes

Taming a bear, making him care

Watching him jump then pulling him under

And at first blush, this is fate

When it's all roses, portrait poses

Central Park Lake in tiny rowboats

What a charming Saturday

That's when she sees the littlest leaks

Down in the floorboards

And she just knows

She must bolt

Started with a kiss

"Oh, we must stop meeting like this"

But it always ends up with a town car speeding

Out the drive one evening

Ended with the slam of a door

Then he'll call her a whore

Wish he wouldn't be sore

But as she was leaving

It felt like breathing

All her fuckin' lives

Flashed before her eyes

It feels like the time

She fell through the ice

Then came out alive

She's been many places with

Men of many faces

First they're off to the races

And she's laughing drawin' aces

But, none of it is changin'

That the chariot is waitin'

Hearts are hers for the breakin'

There's escape in escaping

Started with a kiss

"Oh, we must stop meeting like this"

But it always ends with a town car speeding

Out the drive one evenin'

Ended with the slam of a door

But she's got the best stories

You can be sure

That as she was leaving

It felt like freedom

All her fuckin' lives

Flashed before her eyes

And she realized

It feels like the time

She fell through the ice

Then came out alive

How Did It End? lyrics

We hereby conduct this post mortem

He was a hothouse flower to my outdoorsman

Our maladies were such we could not cure them

And so a touch that was my birthright became foreign

Come one, come all

It's happening again

The empathetic hunger descends

We'll tell no one except all of our friends

We must know

How did it end?

We were blind to unforeseen circumstances

We learned the right steps to different dances

And fell victim to interlopers' glances

Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?

Soon they'll go home to their husbands

Smug 'cause they know they can trust him

Then feverishly calling their cousins

Guess who we ran into at the shops

Walking in circles like she was lost

Didn't you hear they called it all off

One gasp, and then

How did it end?

Say it once again with feeling

How the death rattle breathing

Silenced as the soul was leaving

The deflation of our dreaming

Leaving me bereft and reeling

My beloved ghost and me

Sitting in a tree

D-Y-I-N-G

It's happening again

How did it end?

I can't pretend like I understand

How did it end?

Come one, come all

It's happening again

The empathetic hunger descends

We'll tell no one except all of our friends

But I still don't know

How did it end?

#tsqst

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psychopsis · 2 months ago

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In the room that love exists

Beatrice finds a body in the woods and calls it art, posts a picture. She doesn't know who did it, not yet (but he knows who she is). Curiosity looks a lot like consent to Lawrence.

Also: a brief writing exercise that I ended up liking for my beloved tomb for two. Written in the second person.

Content warning: death/dead body (non-graphic), stalking themes, murder mention, gore mention (slightly), unhealthy dynamics.

Word count: 1.100+

In your dreams, there's something hiding in the corners, you hear it in the dark, a fragile branch breaking under eerie footsteps in your fantasy forest, a breath that isn't yours. The smell of rot and sparkling blue eyes behind the fog of your subconscious.

You wake up wrong.

With nothing in particular, just a restlessness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Something whispers to you that something is wrong, but you've got used to the feeling of being observed.

A sickly, decadent sweetness in the air, heavy and overripe. Although your instincts are more sensitive — your gift graces you with sounds, glimpses, smells and even touches that aren't really there. You perceive the scent before the sight.

You blink at your dull cream-colored ceiling, then at your dimly lit room.

He's there.

A man — tall, pale and blond — in your apartment, inside your bedroom. Near your bookshelf, near you. You freeze, your brain trying to discern whether it's a vision playing on your tired nerves.

You hold your breath.

And yet you hear the short sound of his, staring into the pale eyes that stare back at you, unwavering and piercing.

You blink, maybe he's going to disappear and you must have been startled for nothing.

He's still there, stiff and out of place — like an oddly positioned mannequin.

He's not the result of your weird connection with the river.

He's real. And he's inside your apartment.

You scream, loudly, sharply and instinctively. Almost jumping out of your bed, not caring if you look crazy to your neighbors again. Even if you're not sure.

He shrinks back as if it physically hurts, his hands twitching at his sides. And he moves quickly, a pale, firm hand on your jaw. Stifling your terrified pleas, hard. Hard enough for you to fear being strangled right here, right now.

You struggle, flailing to get away and your efforts are nothing. He just comes closer and pins you to the bed, immobilizing you, covering you with his larger body. Now he's above you. One knee between your thighs, the other pressing into the mattress next to your hip. Holding you tight enough so that your lips don't move, so that you need to listen. His other hand is placed on your shoulder.

“Shut up!” He grunts in your face, eyes wide, overwhelmed. As if the noise broke something inside him, something between control and fantasy.

“... You posted my project.“ His voice is quiet, meek.

No.

Yes.

Oh, my God, fuck.

You remember the photo you posted online. The photo that seemed to have been taken in a dream or perhaps after one. A perfect angle after several attempts.

A body hanging from a tree, swaying gently in the mist. It wasn't staged like a crime scene but posed, like a sculpture. The arms were outstretched, almost like wings. The head tilted downwards, the shadow hiding the face. A trail of dried blood traced the shape of the throat like an accidental necklace.

It looked peaceful, some treasure you found after wandering too deep into the forest, something beautiful that you loved to immortalize through your lens.

The light filtered through the leaves made the scene seem sacred. Sepia and green, all mossy and golden. The kind of light you only see once, maybe twice, in a lifetime. It wasn't death, it was art. His art.

And you - always the medium, always the insane necromantic - captioned his art on some morbid forum anonymously with:

She seems to be dreaming. As if someone had loved her enough to make something beautiful out of her.

#marrymewhoeverdidthis

It was a joke, you didn't really mean it. You thought you were alone, that the killer artist was too far away to pay attention to your praise and banter, to notice you. Well, you're not. It's not a game, it's not a lovely hallucination you keep to yourself.

It's not your madness.

“...It was a chickadee,” he murmurs, his eyes darting quickly to the necklace resting on your tattooed collarbone. “Black-capped. You didn't ruin the skull. That's rare.”

His fingers twitch, squeezing you a little tighter - it will probably leave bruises on your skin. He eases when he realizes you're paying attention to what he's saying, not fighting.

“I left you a fern. You replanted it wrong, but it's alive... for now.” In a low, almost childish voice.

A pause.

“You watered the ivy too much. And the pothos not enough. But you tried.”

There's a hesitation, then an almost whisper:

“I… I watched you try.”

“You wore the bird.” Lower, like astonishment.

A black-capped chickadee. The one placed delicately on your windowsill, as if it had flown there to die just for you, already stiff. The one you whispered thank you to and cradled in your hands as you carried it inside. The dead bird that you waited for the flesh to go away by submerging it in water and time. And when it was gone, you cleaned it with tweezers and a soft brush. The skull is tiny, fragile and beautiful. You carefully coated it with transparent resin, observing the glass-like shine on the bone. Then you've threaded a wire through the base, tying it to a black cord. It rests cold against your collarbone, against your antlers tattoo.

You slept in it.

You didn't know it was his bird.

You just thought its little body was your canvas. You look after the little plants that keep popping up too. You don't ask where they come from, you just water them.

But now he's real, not something online. Not a whisper in the trees, not a distorted, distant artist. He's here, in your room, hovering over you, trapping you, caging you with his body.

The scent of before, now laced with masculine musk. Closer, like blood on warm earth, it clings to your throat and you are forced to breathe it in, inhale deeply.

His hand releases your chin, but he doesn't move away. His breathing is irregular, as if he's angered, aroused and confused at the same time.

You don't say anything. You can't.

His hand slides across your face, trembling slightly. Not caressing - just confirming that you're real, like you did with him.

Your mouth is dry. You can hear your own pulse, your knees feel soft. As if your body knows this isn't safe, but you don't flinch or struggle any more either.

Because no one has ever noticed you like this. No one has ever seen the soft rot in you and... come closer. No one has ever responded to the whispers you didn't mean to send, but he did. He came like something dead that still listens, artistic and as a secret meant only for you.

“You took care of them,” he murmurs. “You posted my work. You tagged it. You…” He stops, as if choking on the words. “You wanted me. I'm here.”

He says it as if that solves something.

But you're paralyzed, not from fear. Not completely, anyway.

But from the terrible realization that a part of you wanted it.

#ship: tomb for two #lawrence oleander #boyfriend to death 2 #btd lawrence #boyfriend to death #oc x canon #waters of the lich #lensed in limbo

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reallyromealone · 1 year ago

Text

Title: kingslayer

Fandom: black clover

Pairing: Nozel x male reader

Chapter: one

Warnings: male reader

Notes: slow burn slow burn

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

"god, I forgot how comfortable beds are" Long journeys didn't make for the most comfortable sleeping arrangements, the bed much more comfortable than the trees he's slept in. He didn't know much about the clover kingdom, they had a king and a giant skull that (name) was happy he got to paint. The room was warm, with light beige walls with wood beams that matched the old floorboards and bed frame and furniture, small paintings on the walls to give it some light along with candles for later. A small fireplace in the corner a chair to the side and a desk.

It was more than what he was used to.

Knock knock.

(Name) sat up curiously before walking to the door, opening it to see a young woman "Hi! My dad owns the inn... I noticed you didn't have shoes and we had a nicer pair in the lost and found that weren't gross so I thought you would want them... I hope they fit" (name) smiled softly at her "that's very kind of you, here... I would like to pay you back" the wanderer stepped aside and let her walk into his room, a few of his paintings out "I'll make you a portrait..." He said softly and the young woman looked confused "You don't have to!"

"An act of genuine kindness sparks another besides with the cost of portraits these days, wouldn't it be nice?"

The girl had no reply as she looked at his tiny paintings, no bigger than her hand "Whoa..."

"That one is of the heart kingdom, it's very wild there," he said as they looked at the painting of a rare power "I paint things to remember them, one day I may forget these little things and I always want to remember them... Now! Sit with the sunlight facing you! We don't have much time!"

The woman, whom (name) fondly called 'sparrow' posed shyly as (name) painted her "you have excellent bone structure, you would have made a brilliant sculpture in another world" he commented as she looked confused and a bit flustered "you think?" She said barely above a whisper "I do, my former flame had a beautiful facial structure as well..." (Name) had a sad smile on his face as he thought about his former beloved, though he knows she used him... He still wishes he could have been there for his daughter.

"So what brings you to the clover kingdom?" Sparrow asked and (name) smiled "I'm just sight seeing, I haven't seen much of the clover kingdom so why not right?"

Well, he hadn't seen it... recently.

"You have anything here to recommend?" He asked as he painted and the girl thought "there's a restaurant around the corner that sells the best pasta!" She beamed and (name) chuckled at her dreamy expression at the thought of the dish "I'll have to check it out"

"So what kind of magic do you do? My magic is not strong but I can grow plants" the girl said happily, (name) listening before speaking "If you honed in you could probably grow rare roots... Would help make.potions and such"

"I could do that!"

(Name) helped her with making her magic feel more useful as he kept the topic of his magic out of her head but that didn't seem to work "So what's your magic?" She repeated and (name) knew she wouldn't stop so he answered honestly "It's complicated but to try and simplify it... It- it's strong" he couldn't put it into words without exposing himself "If it's powerful, you should join the magic knights!" (Name) looked confused and the other gasped "the magic knights protect and help the kingdom! They're super strong!"

"... there I think we're done" (name) presented the painting to her "It needs time to dry but I think I didn't do half bad" he just wanted this conversation to end, she was a sweet girl but overwhelming, to say the least, and her look of amazement at tge painting mad regime smile "I can keep this?" She whispered and looked at him in awe "Just keep being kind, yeah? And keep your wits about you"

After she left (name) walked to the window and looked at the clover kingdom curiously, perhaps after a nap he could check it out.

"How do we know he's real?" Charlotte asked and Vanessa sighed "Trust me if anyone can fix this mess... It's him" She remembered him fondly, the man from her childhood before she was locked away in the cage, the man who would teach her things about the outside world he was from, her mother spoke highly of him "he was more powerful than she has ever seen", Vanessa said distantly as the others looked curious at her "someone of his description entered the city today," William said looking over the description that was given to the guards "are you sure he still looks like that?"

"I'm sure"

Nozel and Fuegoleon were tasked to look for this man, and the two ended up at an inn, small and unassuming in the lower ends "Pardon me" Fuegeleon asked the innkeeper who gazed from his book, an older man he was with a slight bald spot and beer belly but friendly none the less "oh that guy? He gave my daughter a painting, why did he do something?"

"No, we just need his help"

"He's out right now but he'll probably be back tonight" the innkeeper was relieved the kind young man hadn't done anything, curious on why the two Royals needed him though but decided not to press "may I offer you two a drink while you wait?"

"Ah, no thank you" Fuegeleon always the gentleman said softly and the innkeeper looked slightly saddened as the redhead continued "would it be possible to see his room? To wait?" The innkeeper not wanting to be in the way of knight business let them have the key to the room and even lead the way, the two thanking him as Nozel looked disgruntled in the shabby room but did notice the drying paintings of the capital on the small desk "these are incredibly detailed" he noted to his cousin who hummed "from what Vanessa says this must be him, he was a painter"

The paintings almost looked real if it wasn't for the water color aspect, it was incredible really "How can we be sure he can help us?"

"Frankly I just want to know why two strange men are in my room" a voice broke them from their thoughts as (name) held a paper container of pasta, eating it slowly "Quite rude frankly, just barging into a room someone paid for"

"Are you (name)?" Nozel glares at the man in the ratty cloak with painted designs on it and the inside, little embroidery designs of flowers and what looks to be a family on it all in the style of a child's drawing.

"Ah, that would be me," he said casually as he plopped down in his chair, not even phased "who are you two?" He had a bored expression as he ate more pasta, the girl was not lying this shit was the bomb! "You don't know who we are?" Nozel seethed and (name) raised an eyebrow "Haven't been in the clover kingdom in years, I ain't gotta clue"

"We are the captains of the Silver Eagles and Crimson Lions respectively"

"That a sports team or something?"

"Spo-- we are magic knights!" Noel was about to tear this man's head off but thankfully Fuegeleon stepped in "We were told you could help us"

"And who said that?"

"Someone you may know... Are you aware of anyone named Vanessa?"

(Name) didn't even need to hear the rest as he packed his belongings, his cloak swishing as he put the paintings away "Well what are you doing? Lead the way!" (Name) urged them, a stark difference compared to how he was earlier as he slung his bag over his shoulder "let's go!"

(Name) didn't give a fuck about the palace, eyes looking around curious for one person and one person alone.

Then it felt like time stood still as he stared at him from across the room with people wearing matching caplets.

"'Nessa..." He said as he had finally found happiness, the knights were confused as the pink-haired woman felt tears well up in her eyes.

"Papa..."

#black clover x male reader #black clover x reader #nozel x male reader #nozel silva x male reader #nozel silva x reader #nozel x reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader #x reader #x male reader

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emytellsrandomstories · 1 year ago

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What happened when you wish on a star?

In the kingdom of Roses, everyone knows wishes do come true, thanks to their beloved King Magnifico, granting all their wishes overnight while they sleep. Everyone trusts in that, except Asha, an artistic and quick-witted young girl, for she knows in her heart that her deceased grandfather never got his wish granted. On her 18th birthday, when it was time to give her wish, Asha discovers a terrible secret, the king and queen are not what they seemed. With no one else to turn to, she makes a wish upon a star... And the star answered.

*⁠.⁠✧

This is the cover I made for my friend @annymation fanfic "The Kingdom of Wishes", which you can read both on Ao3 and right here on Tumblr!

All necessary links for readings will be attached to this post.

*⁠.⁠✧

Now let's talk about the cover itself.

At the bottom we have Asha on top of a tree, with Valentino. She's catching up to Aster, right above her. These 3 elements the tree, Asha and Valentino are illuminated by the light that comes from Aster, a yellow light and are shaded by purplish blue shadows precisely because yellow and blue/purple are complementary colors divided on the color wheel and this is a characteristic of my art I like to make colored shadows and not black ones.

Aster has a thick outline and no shadows because he is in 2d, while the rest of the universe is in 3d.

This pose was inspired by one of the promotional posters for the Wish film.

I followed the same colors as the sky and wanted to place the wish balls and star sparkles making a circle around Asha.

I tried to leave Asha and Aster more to the left because the protagonists, in film posters, should always be more to the left.

Magnificent and Amaya are appearing in the sky, in the background, precisely to represent this subtle threat, but always existing throughout Anny's story. Magnificent and Amaya may not always be present in the same place as Aster, Asha and Valentino, but they are always watching, aiming and wishing for the star.

Unlike the film, Anny makes it clear that these two are the villains of the story and to rescue this I wanted to bring triangular shapes to their faces precisely because a triangle represents a warning of danger, sharp pointy things that can kill you and do you a lot of harm — this is even the case. a form often used in classic Disney villains. I also rescued the use of the color green for the villains, well seen in all Disney films; That's why both the light that illuminates them and the shadows are green, one lighter and the other darker.

*⁠.⁠✧

Making this cover was a lot of fun, it was a great experience that taught me a lot of things!

If you think it's beautiful, I invite you to follow me because I'm preparing several other illustrations for this same fanfic and they will all be posted here, with the same explanation of what they mean and my creative process.

I'm loving being part of this project and thank you so much for reading this far!

Kisses full of light and stars!

~Emy ✨

*⁠.⁠✧

@annymation @uva124 @oh-shtars @signed-sapphire @mythartist21 @kstarsarts @spectator-zee @tumblingdownthefoxden @chillwildwave @gracebethartacc @gracebeth3604

#kingdom of wishes #wish reimagined #wish rewrite #wish 2023 #disney wish #artists on tumblr #the kingdom of wishes au #starsha #wish star #star boy #asha wish #disney asha #wish asha #art blog #fanfic #graphic fanfiction #fanfic art #fanfic authors #fanfic aus

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atrueneutral · 1 year ago

Note

Look who slid into your inbox 😇 What would a dryad scene between Raphael and your Tav look like? (Not strictly a prompt)

BUT IT BECAME A PROMPT. Because the idea wouldn't leave my head. ---

He was becoming soft - malleable. He’d have to ruminate on when exactly he became putty in her hands, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell her ‘no’ whenever she came to him with the whim of an idea to enjoy each other’s company in public.

‘Dates’, she called them.

As a devil, he was used to courting people. There was usually a designated place and time to meet and discuss matters, and when his 'date' arrived, he’d cater to their desires with a charming smile before serving his deal on a silver platter. There was aught else to it aside from the perfect delivery of his lines and the signing of a contract. There was never any hand holding and soft touches, no staying close to each other and being drawn in for an impromptu kiss just because one felt like it.

And there were never any abhorrent creatures such as clowns, djinns, mummies, and-

“Shit, walk faster and don’t make eye-contact…” Tav urged from where she was posed on his arm.

He did not know what or who she was talking about, and thinking that they might be at risk of an attack (which seemed entirely plausible based on his beloved’s rather lively recounting of the last time she’d visited the Circus of the Last Days), Raphael made the mistake of looking around, leading him to make eye-contact with-

“You’re in love, are you not?” called out a lilting, feminine voice. It only took a split moment for him to recognize what the woman was; her nature was made apparent by the glowing markings that curled around her pale green body, the twigs in her red hair and the leaves that composed her scant outfit.

The question the dryad posed caused him to tense.

He should not have made eye-contact.

“I can see it in your eyes, stira. Your journey of-”

“Zethino!” Tav shouted, leaving him and moving in for the dryad. “You are Zethino, correct? The real Zethino?”

“I am, yes,” came the tree-spirit’s breathy reply. “I can see that you, too, are basking in love - a radiant love that you have never before experienced. There has been great suffering, and yet it has built the foundations of impenetrable devotion. Do you admit to this truth?”

“I do, but we’re not interested in-”

“For one hundred gold, I will look into your hearts and see if your love is eternal, or doomed eternally.”

“No, thank you, Zethino,” Tav said, and she turned to give him an apologetic smile.

But… the dryad’s offer… possible confirmation that She would love him eternally…

Tav looked mildly nervous when she noticed him reaching into his pocket for his coin purse, and Raphael began to wonder why she so ardently wished to decline the offer.

Doubt began to creep in that she did not want to expose that her devotion to him was more penetrable than the dryad seemed to think.

Coin transferred hands, and the dryad magically pocketed the payment.

With a sigh and a shrug, Tav returned to standing beside him.

“Close your eyes. Be still as stone to earth, and remember to breathe…” the dryad requested.

His lip began to curl at the notion, and he heard a brief chuckle from the mouse at his side. Giving Tav a sidelong glance, he could read ‘don’t say I didn’t warn you’ in her humored eyes before she closed them.

He felt like a ripe fool - to close his eyes in the middle of a circus where lowlifes and vagabonds freely traipsed around… He was used to thieves and their mischief, and he’d be opening himself to the opportunity that they might be-

Her hand found his, and his heart lurched.

It (he) needed to know if Her love was eternal!

Raphael closed his eyes, became still as stone, and breathed.

Somehow he was transported to the middle of a forest. Lush plants and flowers filled the spaces between large rocks, pleasant chirping reached his ears and cool mist from the nearby roaring waterfall felt refreshing against his heated skin. He was now positioned at the end of a fallen tree trunk that made up a bridge, and standing at the opposite end was his little mouse.

“I see you. I see the bond between you. So tender. But do you see it for yourselves?” The dryad said, reading her lines off to the side of him. “Raphael: you are in constant war with yourself and with your heart. The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous. When is he happiest?”

Yes, he regretted making eye-contact!

This corniness was made to expose him! Not Her!

And in front of this creature!

“When he’s won a new soul,” Tav said without needing time to consider.

She was placating him! Placating the fiendish side of himself when she surely knew that he is happiest… when he is…

(With her.)

He did not know what he was supposed to do, but Raphael did know he did not want to partake in the farce he paid one hundred gold for any longer.

He glared at the dryad.

“Is she correct?” the tree-spirit softly inquired. “If so, she will step forward onto the bridge, and should the remaining two questions be answered true, you will go meet her at the center.”

When he faced Tav, he gave her a terse nod.

A flicker of a smile ghosted her lips as she stepped forward.

“Hear how your bond thrums with pleasure. Strong. Vital. Pulsing with affection,” the dryad continued. “Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, what does he desire more than anything.”

“To be the Archdevil Supreme,” Tav answered.

Yes, yes!

However…

(Her love and affection.)

An embarrassing admittance for a devil to reveal!

End this sideshow of a spectacle!

Raphael crossed his arms and sharply nodded once more, prompting Tav to again step forward until she landed at the center of the bridge.

“The sweetest loves dance lightly on the tongue. But now, we must dig deeper into the most painful reaches of the spirit. Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it. Raphael - what is his deepest fear?” asked the dryad.

“To be consumed,” Tav stated.

How right she was - the deeply ingrained and horrifying fear that he would one day be consumed and have his existence end at the hand and mouth of his father should he fail…

(Was second to his fear of losing Her.)

Ready to be done, there was purpose in his stride as Raphael moved to meet his beloved.

“Hey, I tried warning you,” Tav laughed. “I knew you would hate thi-”

He pulled her to him, cut her off with a kiss, raised his other hand and…

Snap!

They were back at the Circus, standing side by side.

“Ah, thank you, Zethino,” Tav said, her face flushed. She turned and tugged on the hand she still held. “We’ll be going now.”

The dryad smiled. “A bond and love eternal you two have.”

As they started to walk away, his dearest little mouse threw a response over her shoulder, “Yes, and unlike him, I didn’t need to waste one hundred gold to know that.”

#thanks for the ask/prompt!#my writing #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x tav fanfiction #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #raphael the cambion #prompt #gaeldricge

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, Miss Raven! What're your thoughts on the new characters' designs and the new cards we're getting?

[You can see the designs for the Halloween 2023 cards and other related TWST news here!]

I'll post my general thoughts below! I unfortunately don't know enough about Pinocchio myself to point out all the little easter eggs in their outfits, so I'll leave that to those who are more knowledgeable than me.

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Regarding the NRC boys' looks overall, I think it's a very fun theme and very fitting for the location of the event. I like that they all still wear masks, just in a different context than in Glorious Masquerade. One thing I did notice is that the masks seem... same-y? Like they all resemble thick tree roots or something like that. So maybe they aren't masks at all, but they're associated with whatever the conflict in the story is. (I previously suggested mind control or the loss of consciousness, so maybe the "roots" play into that???) You can see the marionette theme Yana was going for, as well as some design elements from Black Butler's circus arc, very clearly. The poses for each of the boys, even the R cards, are extremely dynamic and imply a strong sense of movement. The ribbons are such a simple detail that contributes a lot to this sense of whimsy and flow.

Some comments I have on specific designs and poses:

Suspenders are so... Trey 💀 THERE'S REALLY NOTHING ELSE FOR ME TO ADD HERE, THEY JUST SUIT HIM

I like it when Trey makes these kind of slightly sus but plausibly deniable faces... He should make more of them...

I can't see the front of Jack's outfit that well, so I don't know if I can fully comment on it??? But I can see his. Like. Physique... coming through... That chest to waist ratio/j

Seeing Jack's tail like that kinda weirds me out. I think that's the first time we've gotten a "full" view of how the tails look coming out of the pants??? So maybe I'll get more used to it with time...

J WORD MY BELOVED dghgqwktvwukdviu1vdutw1513FR7vuofOTVUofvfaafvfyivs.,bk;mobsdb;ibuafetvuqoffSEythTOTqebivfguovqnafCUtuiUIEtt please ignore my bias 🤡 The way his top hat is angled and how there's a dark blue ribbon around him... It vaguely looks like he's trying to pass as Crowley, LOL

I like how his undershirt is frilled and how he has that sash at his waist it reminds me of the genderbent design for my TWST OC! The fact that both he and Floyd have the eel emblem that resembles a heart is also really cute~

Lilis is my favorite design of the R cards!! There's a very good distribution of ruffles throughout the look, and his knotted skirts fit well with his personal flair.

I'm not a huge fan of the style of hat Cater's wearing (sorry to all the Cay-kun stans out there), but I can appreciate his look. His dress appears more militant than Trey's, and his posing is certainly more aggressive--it's nice to see him in this new light.

FHIBBAILAIBASIADIHBLBUDB EVERY TIME I SEE L*ONA NOW I'M GOING TO THINK OF THE ONE REBLOG I SAW THAT SAID "of course leona has his tits out again" BECAUSE THEY'RE RIGHT, HE'S LITERALLY THE GIRLIE THAT DRESSES SLUTTY ON HALLOWEEN AND SOMEHOW NEVER GETS COLD 😭 You go, king... Live your best life!!

Love L*ona-san’s new hairstyle here!! 👀

The way Floyd is posed reminds me of those people that walk around on stilts. I think I much prefer the coloration on Floyd's outfit than on Jade's, but I prefer Floyd's jacket to Jade's. I think Floyd's the best of the SR designs!

Shockingly, Vil's look doesn't stand out to me that much??? I enjoy his sash, but I don't immediately pick up on anything in his illustration that catches my eye.

His pose resembles that of a ballerina, which just makes me think about the time he assigned Epel and Deuce extra (ballet) dance lessons in book 5 ajdbhasivldsadued

Of the SSRs, Ace is definitely my favorite one. He just looks so dramatic soaking up that spotlight and trying to look cool while doing it... Bro's 100% thinking, "heheheheh, I'm SO awesome :))" in his head.

Ace's design also reminds me a lot of Jack Hearts (from Disney Villain Recruiters). Not sure if it was intentional or not, but I'm definitely super into it!

HHNNNNNGNGHGHHGHGNGNGHHGHGHGHGHHHHH I WANNA BITE HIS HEAD OFF AND BULLY HIM SO BAD, I WANNA WIPE THAT SMIRK OF FHIS DUMB FACEe Am I seriously about to revert back to my Brat Loving era for Trappola... Maybe so...

I was pretty much expecting a SSR Ace (because he's a trickster with a brother that works in an amusement park) and Ortho (literally a robot that became a real boy), but Kalim took me by surprise. In hindsight, I guess it makes sense though...? Kalim has a similar immature vibe as the other two (plus I do remember there being this one scene in Aladdin where the Sultan was dressed like a jester that was being maneuvered on puppet strings).

It's great that Kalim gets to be a little out of his usual element and make darker, more mysterious expressions like what we see in his new illustration. I'm not sure if I entirely agree with how he's dressed (the yellow jacket is WAY too bright), but I love his his coattails (???) trail behind him in waves.

OR-KUN MY SON 😭😭😭 As is the case with all of his gears, I adore how the devs creatively adapted clothing into metal parts for Ortho! The half-caplet is easily the best part of the whole look for me (the pattern on it reminds me of stars falling down)--and because Ortho has a smaller stature, the type of hat he's wearing isn't as offputting; it actually looks very cute on him.

ANYWAY, VERY HAPPY THAT ORTHO GETS TO HAVE A HALLOWEEN SSR TO MATCH HIS BROTHER'S HALLOWEEN SSR FROM LAST YEAR... They match!!!

... Is that the fucking cricket on Ortho’s cape... and the goldfish on Kalim’s scarf… AND THE CAT ON ACE’S WAIST… What does this meeeean 🤡

And now for my thoughts on the two new boys!! Honestly?? I don't actually have much to comment on in this regard because I try to reserve my judgment of characters until I've actually seen them in action. I haven't seen Pinocchio either, so I don't have a strong basis for what their personalities would be like based on their original Disney counterpart. I only vaguely understand that Honest John and Gideon trick children into visiting Pleasure Island... That's it, that's the full extent of my knowledge on that pair. I don't have any other expectations going in other than "yeah, these two are going to swindle me".

Gidel looks like a mix of Cheka and Ruggie to me (because of the hair and the eye shape). He seems like he’ll be the other guy’s goon, similar to how Jade and Floyd/Ruggie follow Azul/Leona. Nothing else for me to add, Gidel seems alright… Just a silly lil’ guy!

I have more… mixed thoughts on Ferro. One one hand, he looks like the exact kind of shady bitch I’d love. (You know, the ones that smile and lie and manipulate and drive a knife into your back and—LOOK, HE’S VERY J WORD CORE) On the other hand, I’m beating back the “you like cat/dog boys” allegations from my friends, so 💀 I can’t give in so easily/j

Looks-wise, Ferro’s iteration of the rat tail hair is not as ugly to me as Malleus’s is. (I think it’s because it looks more windswept!) I also really like how he dresses—very dapper 😌 and he can pull off green eyeshadow well!

I’m wondering how they’ll make Ferro different than the other con artists we’ve seen so far *eyes Octavinelle* but I’m keeping my hopes up since the devs did a good job remixing the “I have a dead brother and I feel immense guilt about it” backstory for Rollo (when Idia had a similar one). Looking forward to that~

I’m sure my thoughts will chance once I actually get to see them in the event! ^^ I’ll keep you posted. For now, I’ll keep cautious. (Actually, this fan art basically summarizes my current feelings on the two! I’m Rollo/j)

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leezlelatch · 2 years ago

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Two Star Crossed Lovers

Copia x F!Reader - Forget about this? I hope not! Welcome back. I finally managed to pull up my britches and finish this. This was my first foray into Ghost fanfiction, and not only did it introduce me to a lovely community of writers, but helped me connect with and inspire many of you. I hope this is a worthy finish. And I hope you stick around to see what I do in the future. Thank you. Enjoy.

The wood of your bedroom desk is hard as you rest your chin against it. A sigh escapes your lips known only to aching hearts. You almost kissed Copia. Cardinal Copia. There, so brazenly upon his desk, his biretta on your head. And you think, perhaps, he was going to kiss you too. His utterance to be gentle with his heart echoes through your mind, and you want nothing more than to race back to his office and tell him yes! Yes, you will cradle his heart in the space next to your own because he deserves to be so sweetly and tenderly loved; your silly, beautiful Cardinal.

“What am I supposed to do, Portobello?” You ask your rat companion.

Portobello looks up from his very special pillow resting on the desktop and squeaks in your direction as if the answer is right in front of you. You roll your eyes and rest your cheek on a fist, grabbing a delicate morsel for your favorite boy to nibble on. Portobello rubs his little head against your fingers before snatching the small nut as if it were his first meal in hours, devouring it quickly before huffing in your direction for another.

“You’re right after all,” you say, handing him another. “I can’t just…stay away, and I can’t pretend like nothing happened either.”

Portobello rolls off his pillow to perch before you, standing back on his little legs in a T-Rex pose that makes you giggle. His little hands work to clean off his face, needing to look presentable for the grand speech cooking within his small mind about love, and loss, and birth, and death, and joy, and sorrow. An incredible feat of rodent thinking to get his beloved mother to confess her undying devotion to his father. Here it comes, Portobello Mephistopheles Cosimo Copia is ready.

“Squeak!”

You smile at your baby and scratch his little head. You wonder what it would sound like if rat noises were detectable to the human ear. Either way, there is a level of communication between you that you think is special.

“I know, I know. I already told him that I would come see him today.”

You pick up your phone and click on your most recent text with Copia, smiling softly in amusement:

You glance out the window at the dreary winter day, the tree which stands so proudly outside devoid of life as its branches flutter in the chill. Copia is going on tour soon, you think with a despondent sigh. You need to talk about what happened, you promised him you would, and yet a part of you fears that the heated moment in his office was just that...a moment. Nothing in his text betrays that he is nervous to see you, or is thinking about your almost kiss. You get up and begin to pace, Portobello's little head swiveling left and right as he watches you move.

You know your Copia better than anyone. It's the mantra in your head. You imagine him in his office, picking up his phone and then sitting it back down, the wood of his chair creaking as he fidgets, a hand coming up to run trembling fingers through his hair before falling into his customary nervous tick, forefinger and thumb rubbing anxiously together, the leather of his glove worn and discolored at the tips as he awaits your reply. And then the sigh of relief, the tension leaving his shoulders as he drops his head to the desk surface once you have agreed to lunch.

You stop your pacing to giggle softly, hand to your mouth as you grin around your knuckles. What would it be like? To be Copia's. You do not crave the light, you yearn for the cool, and gentle darkness found in the depths of his eyes. You ache for his embrace, all encompassing, like a blanket of stars across the night sky. His kiss that can snuff out any candle and drive out the hypocrisy of a false God. Darkness is not frightening, or bad...it is a companion. The Dark says you are not lost. You are found. Copia found you.

Resolved, you throw on a sweater and some warm socks, sufficient for walking across the courtyard from the residency to the offices. Portobello is tucked into the neck of your sweater, his head peeking out as you close and lock your door behind you. You live on the third floor in the northwest corner of the building which not only holds the dormitories, but also a recreational facility remodeled on the whim that Papa Emeritus III needed to maintain his "strong physique." But the add-on turned out to be beneficial for everyone not wanting to be caught outside in the Swedish cold.

The kitchens and mess hall are also found within the residency hall, convenient for anyone - Copia and yourself - to sneak out of bed for a midnight snack. But your personal favorite is the library, more specifically, the plush chair in front of the sprawling granite fireplace. The mantle is often decorated with a garland of herbs picked from the gardens to promote a cleansed space for study, thought, and escape into the fantasy realm of books.

The building which houses the clergy offices and classrooms is but a short distance away from the residency hall, their rooves nearly touching. Overall, the grounds form an unfinished rectangle with the church completing the furthest side. The abbey looks like it's falling apart on a good day although it maintains a quaint and reverential charm. Gardens full of vegetables, herbs, and the sweetest flowers pepper the landscape, affording a beautiful and tranquil walk between buildings. The church looms over it all with grotesques of Lucifer and his princes gazing out on the horizon, not the congregation; a reminder of their infernal presence, and deference to free will.

"Off we go, baby boy," you whisper to your rat as you make your way down the mustard runner which stretches down the expanse of the corridor.

The walls haven't been painted in years, and you're almost sure they were white once. A potted plant that is probably fake sits on a chipped console table splattered with pop culture magazines. A couple feet down, a green rotary phone lays off the hook on a wooden desk next to a phone book and a chair that has seen its fair share of booty calls. Slowly, things around the Ministry are improving the more money is made by the Ghost Project, like the recreational facility. Right now, there are just...more important things to attend to first before tackling the quite outdated Sibling dormitories. You find a warmth to the off-70s look, like a home that has been well-lived in, and well-loved.

The trip downstairs is quick, polite hellos not usually required once people see the very large rat poking out of your striped sweater, and you quickly make it to the bottom floor, pushing open the creaking doors to the crisp air outside. It's a little chillier than you anticipate, goosebumps erupting across your skin, the wind whipping through your hair. You hold Portobello a little closer. Your eyes are on the prize, the door to the offices opening and closing as Siblings and Clergy alike walk in and out bundled in coats and scarves. You weave around sleeping hedges and soil thirsty for spring, the fountain which captivated your attention the previous day looking just as chilled as you feel.

"Hej!" A voice calls to you as you pass one of the moving puffy coats.

Spinning around, you shiver, squinting a little as you are slow to recognize the Brother that greets you by name. Sandy hair hidden under a toboggan, grey eyes looking you over behind black framed glasses. Oh, he's from my Latin class, you think down at Portobello, sure your child can read your thoughts. It is your bond.

"Hi. What's up?" It sounds as awkward as you feel saying it. Lucifer, it's cold. Did you make a face? He's looking at you funny.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, his eyes narrowing in on the lump that is Portobello, now hiding his face into the warmth of your skin.

"I'm good." I'm suffering.

"Okay...well, I was just wondering..."

****

Copia takes a sip of his coffee, a startled “Ai!” jumping from his throat as the scalding liquid coats his lips and mustache. He blots his mouth with a napkin, grumbling about shaving the damnable thing off before staring distastefully down at the brown liquid in his mug, Portobello’s little face printed onto the side of the white porcelain.

“Still hot…” he mutters, pushing back from his chair to move over to the little coffee station he keeps on a small table in the corner.

He has a pot, a couple mugs (although he hasn’t used any except this one you bought for him since), and his favorite dark roast placed next to little packets of hot chocolate he keeps especially for you. Kneeling with a groan, Copia opens the mini fridge under the table to pull out a container of milk, generously pouring it into his coffee. He tests the now pale liquid with a tentative sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction before rising.

Copia slowly steps through his office, patting his belly in a soothing gesture as he walks past the front of his desk, his eyes glancing over the many ledgers which require his attention this morning. He moves close to the window which overlooks the courtyard of the abbey. Frost lingers on the old panes, poor insulation allowing freezing cold air to hit his skin. He shivers a little and takes a sip of his coffee, sighing softly while watching the movement of the unholy congregation as they chat and scurry between buildings.

He holds the cup of coffee with both hands in an attempt to warm them with what little heat the drink has left. Copia hasn't stopped thinking about you, and to be perfectly honest, you are the only thing his mind is able to conjure these days. Every night he lays his weary body into bed, wondering what it would be like to draw you close to him, whispering sweet nothings as you fall asleep in each other's embrace. Perhaps sometimes he wakes from a blissful dream, his arms wrapped around a pillow, to face the painful realization that you are not there with him.

Last night was particularly difficult.

Your almost-kiss. Copia could strangle Terzo for interrupting the very moment he has yearned for since your midnight meeting in the kitchens some months ago. You felt so right in his arms, so entirely his as a blush crossed your cheeks and you smiled at him, that special smile which told him that you were willing to carry the burden of his old heart. Copia touches his fingertips to his lips, closing his eyes as if he can still feel your breath against them. He smiles sweetly, humming with the thought of you.

His eyes snap over to find the clock, and they inadvertently follow a trail from the wall to his desk to his cellphone sitting atop it, the black brick of a thing silent, but carrying your messages from this morning. How Copia agonized over texting you for lunch today, unsure of your response after the previous night. Should he have mentioned it? No, that's a conversation best held face-to-face. Copia wants you to feel safe and comfortable in his presence, and whether or not you choose to pursue a conversation about last night's activities is entirely up to you. He can wait. He will wait. And if you never return his affections, he will be glad to hold even a modicum of your attention.

As his gaze returns to the window, Copia makes a small harumph while taking in the frost on the ground. It’s supposed to be a cold winter, more so than usual, and the annual fight to keep the fireplaces going in these drafty corridors will begin anew. Copia leans a little closer to the window, his breath fogging the glass as he tries to make out a figure below near the fountain. He swipes at the glass with his sleeve, grumbling in annoyance, his eyebrow arching.

“Who in Lucifer’s name isn’t wearing a coat in this weather?” He murmurs to himself, trying to squint. It’s with a sickening drop of his heart into his gut as he realizes it’s you. You turn just enough that he can make out your features as you speak to…who is that? Copia leans so far into the window, his nose smashes into it, the cold shocking him back. Your image is blurred by the outline of his nose, and entirely fed up, Copia opens the window, practically hanging out of it as he peers down at you and the boy with narrowed eyes, his pupil nearly nonexistent in the expanse of white.

The boy stands close to you, too close, head tilted down to speak to you as you gaze up at him with that perfect innocence, that - well, actually you look fairly annoyed. The Cardinal huffs out a laugh as he watches your brow furrow, your feet shifting as you scoot a little farther away. Ah, my precious, The Cardinal thinks. What he does not like, at all, is how you’re shivering. He can practically see how red your sweet nose is from here.

Copia is gone from the window and out of his office door in the span of a few moments once he has gathered his thoughts, has reigned in the raging jealousy burning in his heart and lungs. There were more important things to attend to. That being, dragging his piccolina inside and getting her warm. Oh, you’ll hear it. The last thing he was going to do was let your health be disregarded so. Also, the Cardinal scowls, the boy should know better than to keep you out in the cold for an insipid conversation.

Siblings quickly move out of the way as the Cardinal, red cassock like a slash of blood against a winter’s day, glides through the doors to the courtyard. His eyes are on you like a hawk, his step firm as he approaches you from behind. His lips twist in satisfaction as the boy’s expression drops when his eyes find the advancing Cardinal, even going so far as to take a very big step away from you.

****

You watch with burgeoning fascination as fear flickers across your classmate’s face, and he moves swiftly away from you, throwing out a quick goodbye as he heads toward the residency. You tilt your head to the side, momentarily thrown off, watching his retreating back with barely contained relief.

“Sibling.”

Copia’s voice has you whipping around so fast, you feel Portobello slip down your sweater. Your hands come up to instinctually cup the lump underneath, and you watch Copia’s eyes flicker down to it with amusement before sharpening as they return to your face. You’re wracked with shivers from head to toe, eyes widening at the Cardinal’s rapidly hardening features.

“I believe we had an appointment,” the Cardinal continues, motioning with his head to follow him before he turns and heads back inside, not even looking to see if you’re following. You know better than not to, and make your way after his rapidly retreating figure. The warmth of the office building is a relief to your chilled skin, however your hands begin to burn, red and dry from the cold. You adjust Portobello, returning him to the neck of your sweater, his little feet resting under the lip of your bra. Copia doesn’t stop until he reaches his office, opening the door and gesturing inside with cool politeness as clergy members alike walk back and forth down the corridor.

You enter with trepidation, unsure of what to expect, your eyes falling on his half-filled cup of coffee sitting on the desk next to your Cardinal’s mountains of paperwork. You feel bad that he had to run all the way outside to fetch you, but your brow furrows with mirth when you notice the nose shaped smudge on the window. Was Copia watching you? Your cheeks heat. Was he jealous you were speaking to the guy from your class? Your heart gives a little pitter patter at the thought, and you have to school your features as you turn on your heel to face Copia. He closes his office door behind him, and then his hard expression drops in an instant.

The man is on you in a second, his gloved hands gripping your shoulders as he practically lifts you from the floor to deposit you by the fireplace. “Mio tesoro prezioso, dov'è la tua giacca!?” He frets. Copia falters for a moment, his hands out and fingers wiggling as he looks about the room for something, anything to wrap around your shoulders. With a determined frown, Copia hastily begins to remove his cassock, ripping the fascia off his waist to tangle on the floor in order to reach the buttons.

“Copia, this isn’t necessary,” you try to say, looking slightly alarmed with the ferocity in which he pulls the blood red material from his back to wrap around you.

“What isn’t necessary, amore mio, is your insistence to walk around outside without any coverings! You could freeze. Oh, your povere mani,” he groans, voice cracking as he reaches out to cradle your hands in his own, thumbs trying to work at your red skin to create friction. “What if you get frostbite, eh? What will your Cardinal do then?”

“...I’d imagine you wouldn’t be happy,” you murmur, eyes fixated on your hands.

“Certo.”

Copia pulls off his gloves, the leather looking stretched and wrinkled when not tight against his large, beautiful hands. You admire the dark hair on the backs of them, a small smile flitting over your features that broadens as he slides the gloves onto your own. The leather is so warm, wrapped around your hands like a hug, albeit a loose one that makes the both of you smile. Your eyes meet Copia’s and his expression is soft, freckled cheeks tinted pink as he gazes down at your hands, a slow smile creeping across his lips. He appears almost entranced by the sight of his gloves on you, his own fingers squeezing the material and trying to ensure they are on as tight as possible.

Copia catches your eye and blushes harder, clearing his throat, although he doesn’t let go of your hands. “Why were you outside, huh?” He murmurs, angling you a little closer to the fire. His eyes take in your entire form as if looking for any injuries brought on by the frigid weather. You can’t help but admire him in his black slacks and clergy collar, a sight you’re not very used to seeing. Copia is very rarely not pristinely dressed in his vestments when working, and when he isn’t, he prefers soft lounge clothes. Out of the hundred things you imagined was under his cassock, the black business casual outfit was farthest down the list. Although the hint of suspenders underneath is doing more for you than the fire.

“I was coming to see you, like we planned, but then that guy from my Latin class-,”

“Ah, he is a classmate? What eh…what did he want?” Copia interrupts you, his eyes falling to the crackling flames as his lips twist in displeasure. It makes you smirk, an eyebrow raising as you take in the tense set of his shoulders.

“He was asking me out,” you say as casually as possible.

“Che cosa!?” Copia’s head snaps back to attention so fast you’re worried it’ll fall off his neck, and you even put your hands up in surprise. His eyes are wide, the white nearly narrowing into a slit. This all happens in a matter of a moment before his expression melts, the circles under his eyes deepening as all color drains from his face and his gaze drops to the floor. “Forgive me. I…shouldn’t question what you do in your personal life. That is…eh, not cool.”

“Copia, I’m joking. He asked for class notes. That’s all,” you soothe, fingers coming up to gently touch his cheek. His lips part in a small gasp and his eyes flick to your fingers and then to your face.

“Hmm, not a nice joke,” he says softly, although there’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“No, it isn’t,” you agree.

There’s a beat of a moment between the two of you, your gloved fingers gently sliding across his cheek, rough with age and very warm. You notice a few flyaway hairs and brush them back behind his ear. Copia closes his eyes, blowing out a long breath through his nose. His hands cup yours and bring them to his chest, his fingers squeezing the leather wrapped so lovingly around them.

“We need to talk,” he whispers, his eyes opening, reflecting a heady desperation within the green and white depths. “But I am afraid, topolino.”

“What are you afraid of?” Your voice is equally quiet, your body gravitating closer to his. You reflect on the past several months. From meeting Copia in the Ministry kitchens to saving the rat who chooses this moment to climb from your shirt and settle on your shoulder. Copia chuckles softly, scratching Portobello fondly behind the ears.

“I’m afraid of losing this. I’m afraid of being alone again. I’m afraid of another decade roaming these halls at night like a wraith because I can’t be alone with my thoughts. I’m afraid of being cold again,” Copia sucks in a breath, blinking away the tears that are rapidly filling his eyes. “I’m afraid of losing my love.”

“Hmm,” you let out a small laugh, feeling the burn of tears behind your own eyes. “So all those ‘amores’ were real.” You give him a wobbly smile as he laughs a little, tears finally dropping and sliding down his cheeks.

“Sì, sì. I am not too subtle, eh?”

You take a steadying breath, your fingers gently wiping away his tears which sit on his gloves like rain droplets. “Copia, you could never lose me.” Your voice breaks slightly. “Knowing you has been the most beautiful experience of my life. And I want more of it. I want…,” you trail off, and turn to look at the rat on your shoulder, a smile brightening your features. “What do you say, ‘Bello? Should I kiss your daddy?” You hear Copia make a noise between a gasp and a squeak as Portobello’s little paws come up to clean his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You turn and wrap your arms around Copia’s neck, drawing very close to him. His hands flail at your sides for a moment before settling at your waist, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as he blinks down at you. “What do you say?” You whisper to him, your lips inches apart, breaths intermingling. “Amore?”

Copia smiles. Wide and crooked and radiant. He’s practically shaking in your grasp, and laughs a little incredulously before his eyes flutter closed, long lashes kissing his cheeks. “I say,” he murmurs, accent heavy and deep. “Ti amo cosi tanto.” And then his lips descend on yours.

His hands slide around your back and he crushes you to him, chests flush as he thoroughly kisses you with deep, long strokes of his tongue. He explores your mouth as if he is trying to imprint your taste onto his tongue. Months of pent up frustration breaking in a moment of unbridled passion on a cold winter’s day. Copia whimpers softly into your mouth, and at this point you can’t tell if the tears on your cheeks are his or yours.

You break away with a gasp, but Copia needs you close, unable to truly pull away just yet and cradles you against his body, his hand along your jaw as he presses little kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your neck. Anywhere his wandering lips can reach. He whispers sweet things to you, words you can’t understand but know all the same. Copia smooths your hair from your face and just gazes down at you with complete adoration, his head tilting to kiss your lips softly again - once, twice, a third time.

You giggle softly in a dreamy state that makes him smile that smile again, the one that reaches his paints. “Have something to say, piccolina?” He says softly.

“I’m pretty speechless…”

“That would be a first, hmm?”

He kisses you again as you begin to roll your eyes, and you sigh into the bliss of it all. His thumbs rub circles into your cheeks, his kiss unhurried and lingering. You press a hand to his chest and push lightly, and you pull away with a smacking noise as a confused frown crosses his features.

“I nearly forgot!” You say, smiling up at him. You take a deep breath, the next words from your mouth feeling so easy and so right, and something you should have done a long time ago. “Copia, I love you too.”

Copia’s arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you with him as he brings the both of you to the floor, his arms and legs locking you into a hug. His nose nuzzles at your cheek as he holds you so incredibly close, a boyishness to the older man as he radiates joy and warmth. “Ti amo, ti amo, I love you,” he whispers over and over again into your ear, his mustache tickling you. “You have given me everything. Oh, my world is so bright. Ah, my heart.”

Your fingers slide up his back, and you lean into his embrace, closing your eyes and enjoying the glory of your newfound love. Everything, finally, is going to be okay. Your life is going to be okay…no, it’s going to be more than that. It is going to be glorious. Happy. Full of love. Full of Copia.

There’s a sliding sound and Copia’s paperwork goes crashing to the floor in a small explosion of paper. You both look up, Portobello having at some point during the last few minutes left your shoulder and made his way to Copia’s desk. He sits in the center of the desk, looking innocent as can be.

“We should have another one,” you say, smirking as you look at your outraged Cardinal. He gives you a withering glare. “I’m just saying, he might-...” Copia cuts you off with a kiss.

And you definitely recommend co-parenting a rat.

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #Cardinal Copia #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv fanfic #ghost #ghost bc #copia #papa iv #poorly translated italian #portobello the rat #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader

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admistedenslush · 2 years ago

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Eve’s Curse - Aemond Targaryen/Reader

Summary: In paradise, you and Jace live peacefully until a fallen angel disturbs the peace.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

With bare feet, you stand in the dirt under the towering tree, whose shade shields you from the hot rays of the sun.

You embrace the evergreen intimately, with your right cheek and breasts pressed against the trunk, feeling the hard coarse surface on your skin.

Small cracking noises and rustling of the woods disturbed your tranquil mood. Looking past the tree, you take a careful glance at your surroundings.

You didn't even realize you were holding your breath until your pounding heart ached in your chest.

A wave of unfamiliar emotions washes over you, disrupting the calm that once defined your existence. As your stomach clenches, you spin around, searching for your beloved Jace.

As you whirl around, your eyes widen with alarm at the sight of a tall figure standing before you. Before you can let out a scream, his massive palm clamps over your mouth, taking your breath away.

As your lips grew warm, an unfamiliar sensation. The trickle of your saliva under his hand intensified the burning, creating a discomfort that you resisted the urge to react to.

Instead, your unwavering gaze remained fixed on the captivating man standing before you. There was an undeniable allure in his presence, his beauty radiating, that held you captivated.

Noticing the tears welling in your eyes, the man withdrew his hand from your mouth, understanding the profound impact his touch had on you.

“An angel's touch can set a mortal ablaze,” he murmured, his voice tinged with an air of mystery.

Intrigued, you took a shallow breath, your voice barely a whisper as you responded in wonder, “An angel?

The man looked down at you; he smiled with a glint of laughable pity in his eyes, muttering sweetly

“Looks like your master couldn't keep a tight leash on you?”

The man's sardonic grin betrayed his condescending thoughts as he found the humor in an otherwise dim-witted exchange.

Your throat caught up with the collecting saliva in his mouth, spluttering before you could even plead for mercy.

“Faint of heart, dear girl?”

With a quiver in your voice and a furrowed brow, you timidly pose the question, “Who are you?”

His smirking visage seemed to glow with amusement as he hummed in response, offering his answer with a glint in his eye, “Thank you for inquiring. I go by the name of Aemond, my dear.”

“Aemond? The fallen angel? The foe of the gods?” you spoke with a hint of newfound confidence, seeking confirmation.

Enraged and consumed by anger, Aemond grasped your throat, robbing you of breath again, and leaned in close to your face, his lip in a snarl.

“Soon, you will come to understand who the true enemy is. The gods, who forsake their creations out of fear of their knowledge,” he declared.

Gasping for air, you spoke through his tight grip.

“You are the one who denied my race and refused to submit to Jace,” you choked out.

“Why should I bow down to a mere mortal, composed of nothing but dust and clay?” he replied, his voice dripping with fury. He continued,

“He should worship my scorching flames, for I am forged from fire, a force too mighty for that boy to ever tame.”

His thick hand wrapped around your throat, ignited a soft, involuntary moan to escape your lips. As you yearned for release from the exhilarating tension that coiled within your being, you pressed your thighs together, seeking solace in the delicate embrace.

Aemonds eyes shimmered, forgetting his anger. “But you enjoy it, don't you, my dear? You relish my touch.”

You were left breathless, unable to even contemplate Jace's whereabouts. The fallen angel released you from its grip and directed its gaze back to the grand tree.

“Tell me, what did the gods reveal to you and the boy with mousy hair concerning the saplings of Eden?”

You studied the man with caution, your thoughts still somewhat fuzzy, longing for the warmth of his touch.

“They warned us against consuming the fruit.”

Aemond, displaying his ever-growing cunningest, retorted with a sly smile, “So, the gods told you that you can't eat from any tree in this splendid garden?”

You responded, your innocence shining through," We may enjoy the fruit of all the trees except for one. The Gods warned us not to partake of the fruit of the tree in the center, cautioning that touching it would lead to death.”

Aemond glanced at his feet before meeting your gaze once again. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he declared, “You see, this whole idea of the forbidden tree, it's all just a sham. Can't you see that? It's meant to scare you into denying yourself earthly delights. You won't die. In fact, the gods know that once you take a bite, your eyes will be opened, and you'll ascend to their level, understanding the realms of good, evil, and desire. They won't have control over you anymore.”

Then, he added in a low tone, “Don't you yearn to experience genuine pleasure? You enjoyed the way I touched you… what if I were to show you even more?”

You coyly concealed your hands behind your back, offering Aemond a sweet smile as you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. “Do you think we should ask Jace to join us as well?” you teased, a playful edge to your voice.

Aemond, reveling in the game, trailed his fingers through your hair, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Oh, my dear,” he purred, his voice dripping with his cunning charm, “that sounds positively wicked. Let's make it a delightful trio.”

#harry collett #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #house of the dragon #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x fem!reader #jace velaryon

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