#you open the imagination chamber and this is on the first page and when i tell you i got snapped back to this scene so violently | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amateurvoltaire · 4 months ago

Text

April 5th, 1794: Camille Desmoulins went to the Place de la Révolution to die.

There was no journal left to write, no crowd to stir, no chance to rewrite the last page. He had already said too much.

The Revolution had eaten through its own flesh, and Camille, once its poet, was now just another name on the list.

He left behind one final letter. Not quite a manifesto. Just a man, waiting to die, writing to his wife.

The Last Letter of Camille Desmoulins

Duodi germinal, 3 a.m. (April 1st)

Sleep has mercifully suspended my suffering. In sleep, one is free, unaware of captivity. Heaven has shown me mercy. Just moments ago, I saw you in a dream: I embraced you, Horace, and Daronnen (1), who was at home. But our little one had lost an eye to some fury that had attacked him, and the pain of this vision woke me. I found myself back in my dungeon. It was daylight. Though I could neither see you nor hear your replies, even as you and your mother spoke to me, I rose to write to you at least.

But opening the windows, the thought of my solitude, the dreadful bars and bolts that part me from you, vanquished all the strength of my soul. I melted into tears, or rather, I sobbed, crying out in this tomb: Lucile! Lucile! O my dearest Lucile, where are you?

(here, we notice the trace of a tear).

Yesterday evening I experienced a similar moment, and my heart broke anew when I saw your mother in the garden. A reflexive movement drove me to my knees against the bars; I clasped my hands together as if begging for her pity, she who must be weeping now in your embrace.

Yesterday I saw her sorrow

(here again a trace of tears)

In her handkerchief and veil, lowered as if she could not bear the sight. When you come again, let her sit a little nearer to you, so that I might see you both more clearly (2).

It is not dangerous, as far as I can tell. My spectacles are no good. I'd like you to buy me a pair like I had six months ago, not silver but steel, with two arms that attach to the head. Ask for number 15;: the merchant will know.

But above all, I implore you, Lolotte (3), by our eternal love, send me your portrait. Let your painter take pity on me, I who suffer only for having shown too much compassion for others. Let him grant you two sittings each day. In the horror of this prison, the day I receive your likeness would be a day of celebration, of pure rapture and intoxication.

In the meantime, send me a lock of your hair that I may press it to my heart. My dear Lucile! Here I am, back in the days of my first love, when I was interested in someone merely because they had come from your house. Yesterday, when the citizen who brought you my letter returned, I asked him "Well, have you seen her?", just as I used to ask Abbé Landreville. I found myself studying him as if something of you had lingered on his clothes, on his very person.

He is a charitable soul, for he delivered my letter intact (4). It seems I shall see him twice daily, morning and evening. This messenger of our sorrows has become as dear to me as a bearer of joys once would have been.

I discovered a crack in my cell; I pressed my ear to it, and heard a groaning. I hazarded some words, and a voice answered: a sick man in suffering. He asked my name. I gave it. “O my God!” he cried at hearing it, falling back upon his bed, and I distinctly recognised the voice of

Fabre d’Églantine (5).

(Yes, I am Fabre, he told me; but you, in here! Has the counter-revolution succeeded?)

Yet we dare not speak further, for fear that hatred might deprive us of even this small consolation. Should we be heard, we would surely be separated and confined more strictly. He has a room with a fireplace; mine would be a fair chamber... if a dungeon could ever be called fair.

But, dear friend! You cannot imagine what it means to be held in secret, not knowing why, never interrogated, never receiving a single journal. It is to live and be dead at once, existing only to feel oneself buried in a tomb. They say innocence is calm and courageous.

Ah!

My dearest Lucile! My beloved! Often, my innocence is weak like that of a husband, that of a father, that of a son (6)! If it were Pitt or Coburg who treated me thus…! But my colleagues! Robespierre, who signed the order of my imprisonment! The Republic, after all I have done for her! Is this the reward for so many virtues and sacrifices?

When I first arrived, I saw Hérault-Séchelles, Simon, Ferroux, Chaumette, and Antonelle (7). They suffer less than I do, at least they are not held incommunicado.

And I, who for five years devoted myself to hatred and peril in the name of the Republic. I who kept my poverty through the Revolution (8). I who have none to ask forgiveness but you, my dear Lolotte, and to whom you granted it, knowing my heart, despite its frailty, was not unworthy of you. I am cast into a dungeon, in secret, as though I were a conspirator! Even Socrates was allowed to see his friends and wife in prison when he drank the hemlock (9).

How much harder to be torn from you! Even the worst criminal would suffer too cruelly if separated from a Lucile by anything except death—which at least makes one feel such agony for but a moment. But a criminal could never have been your husband, and you loved me because I lived solely for the happiness of my fellow citizens... They call me...

Just now, the commissioners of the Revolutionary Tribunal have questioned me. One question only: “Have you conspired against the Republic?” What derision! Is it thus they insult the purest republicanism?

I see the fate that awaits me. Farewell, my Lucile, my dear Lolotte, my good little wolf, say farewell to my father. In me, you see the example of man’s barbarity and ingratitude. My final moments will not disgrace you. You see that my fears were justified, that my presentiments were always true.

I married a woman heavenly in her virtue. I was a good husband and a good son; I would have been a good father. I carry with me the esteem and the regrets of all true republicans, of all men, of virtue and of liberty.

I die at thirty-four, yet it is a marvel that I have survived these past five years and so many revolutionary precipices without falling into them. That I still exist and rest my head in calm upon the pillow of my writings; too numerous, perhaps, but all breathing the same philanthropy, the same desire to make my fellow citizens happy and free, writings that the tyrants’ axe shall never strike down.

I see now that power intoxicates almost all men, that they all speak as Dionysius of Syracuse (10):

“Tyranny is a fine epitaph.”

But take comfort, desolate widow! The epitaph of your poor Camille is nobler still: it is that of the Brutuses and the Catos, the slayers of tyrants (11). O my dearest Lucile! I was born to write verse, to defend the wretched, to make you happy, to compose, with your mother, with my father, and a few souls after our own hearts, a little Tahiti (12).

I had dreamed of a Republic that all mankind would adore. I could not believe men were so savage and so unjust. How could I think a few jests in my writings, aimed at colleagues who had provoked me, would erase the memory of all my services?

I do not deceive myself: I die a victim of those jests (13) and of my friendship with Danton (14).

I thank my assassins for letting me die with him and with Philippeaux (15). Since my colleagues were cowardly enough to abandon us, to lend an ear to slanders, of which I know nothing, save that they must be vile, I may say we die martyrs of our courage in denouncing traitors and of our love for the truth.

We can at least take with us this testimony: we perish as the last true republicans.

Forgive me, dear friend, my true life, which I lost the moment we were parted. I find myself dwelling on my legacy when I should focus only on helping you forget.

My Lucile! My good Loulou! My hen of Cachant (16)! I beseech you, do not linger on the branch, do not call to me with your cries; they would tear me to pieces in the depths of the grave. Go scratch the earth for your little one, live for my Horace (17); speak to him of me. Will you tell him, though he cannot yet understand, that I would have loved him dearly?

Despite my torment, I believe there is a God. My blood shall wash away my faults, the weaknesses of humanity, and God will reward what was good in me: my virtues, my love of liberty. One day, I shall see you again, O Lucile! O Annette!

Sensitive as I was, is death, which delivers me from witnessing so many crimes, so terrible a fate? Farewell, Loulou; farewell, my life, my soul, my goddess on earth! I leave you good friends, all men of virtue and feeling.

Farewell, Lucile, my Lucile! My dear Lucile! Farewell, Horace, Annette, Adèle (18)! Farewell, my father! I feel the shore of life receding before me.

I still see Lucile! I see her, my beloved! My Lucile! My bound hands embrace you still, and my severed head rests its dying eyes upon you.

Notes:

The original French text comes from the Correspondance inédite de Camille Desmoulins, published by M. Matton aîné (Ébrard, Paris, 1836). The translation is mine.

(1) Daronne was a nickname Camille had for his mother-in-law

(2) Camille was imprisoned in the Luxembourg. Families of prisoners would gather in the prison garden so their imprisoned relatives could see them from the jail cells above.

(3) Lolotte was Lucile’s nickname

(4) "Intact" in this case means uncensored, as prisoners' letters were routinely read and censored..

(5) Fabre d’Églantine (1750–1794) was a playwright, poet, and revolutionary politician, best known for creating the names of the months in the French Republican Calendar and for his close association with Danton.

(6) The phrasing is a bit awkward in English, but what Camille is trying to say is that human bonds make him vulnerable. He's not admitting guilt; he's defending his innocence, but he's acknowledging that emotional attachments can make one act from the heart rather than from strict principle or legality.

(7) Hérault-Séchelles was a member of the Committee of Public Safety and played a key role in drafting the constitution. Though not strictly aligned with the Dantonists, he was executed alongside them on April 5th.

Simion most likely refers to Jean-Baptiste Simon, less prominent, but known as a journalist and moderate revolutionary

Ferroux's identity is problematic. While there was a Ferroux imprisoned at that time, little is known about him as he wasn't a prominent figure. Some editions of the letter suggest this is a misrendering of either Philippeaux's name or refers to Jean-Pierre-André Amar.

Chaumette is Pierre-Gaspard Chaumette a leading figure of the Hébertist faction; radical dechristianiser; President of the Commune of Paris

Antonelle is François-Joseph-Marie Fayolle d’Antonelle A moderate republican, journalist, editor of Le Républicain, and supporter of the Girondins.

(8) Camille is very much stretching the truth here …

(9) Socrates was sentenced to death by the Athenian court in 399 BCE and died by drinking a cup of hemlock, a poisonous plant, as punishment for impiety and corrupting the youth.

(10) Dionysius I, tyrant of Syracuse in Sicily during the 4th century BCE, known for his authoritarian rule and for transforming Syracuse into a major military power. He became a symbol of despotism in classical literature and later political thought, often cited as an emblem of how power corrupts and tyranny can be glorified despite its brutality.

(11) Brutus and Cato the tyrannicides refer to Marcus Junius Brutus and Marcus Porcius Cato the Younger, two influential figures of the late Roman Republic who stood against dictatorship. Brutus helped kill Julius Caesar in 44 BCE to protect Rome's freedom, while Cato opposed Caesar through political means and chose suicide rather than live under his rule.

(12) The original is "composer, avec ta mère et mon père, et quelques personnes selon notre cœur, un Otaïti." Camille is referring to Tahiti (Otaïti being the 18th-century French spelling). After Bougainville's 1768 voyage, Tahiti captured the European imagination as an idyllic paradise, a place of natural abundance, innocence, and harmony, untouched by civilization's corruption.

(13) To see the jests he is referring to, I recommend you take a look at Camille's last publication, Le Vieux Cordelier. The first two issues aligned with Jacobin's sentiment, but from the third onward, he diverged from the party line and called for moderation. His tone, satirical, accusatory, and morally urgent, was perceived by many as politically subversive and ultimately led to his arrest.

(14) Georges Danton (1759–1794) was a leading figure of the French Revolution, known for his oratory, role in founding the Revolutionary Tribunal, and early leadership of the Jacobin movement. He and Camille Desmoulins were close friends and political allies… their relationship is far too involved and complicated to explain in a short note.

(15) Pierre Philippeaux (1754–1794) was a Convention member sent on mission to the West. His detailed report exposed the brutal repression in the Vendée, especially atrocities by Republican forces under Jean-Baptiste Carrier. Camille used this report in Le Vieux Cordelier to support his plea for clemency. Philippeaux's testimony provided concrete, documented evidence of revolutionary excesses, strengthening Camille's argument that the Revolution had strayed from its principles.

(16) Translation from the original notes of the 1835 edition of the letter: Cachant is a small village near Paris, on the road to Bourg-la-Reine, where Madame Duplessis owned a country house. During their visits to Mme Duplessis, Camille and Lucile had often observed a hen in Cachant that, grief-stricken at the loss of her rooster, perched day and night on the same branch. She would emit heart-rending cries, refuse all food, and seemed to long for death. This is the hen to which Camille alludes here.

(17) Horace was the young son of Camille Desmoulins and Lucile Duplessis, born in 1792 and just a toddler at the time of his parents’ execution in 1794.

(18) Translation from the original notes of the 1835 edition of the letter: Lucile's sister, who never married and lived with her mother, became her sole consolation after the deaths of Camille, Lucile, and M. Duplessis.

#frev #french revolution #camille desmoulins #lucile desmoulins #robespierre #history #translation #the death of the indulgents #Camille is pissed off at Maxime...

194 notes · View notes

nanamiskentos · 9 months ago

Text

GOO GOO MUCK #3 — jujutsu kaisen x reader choose a storybook to open. aka my mythos take on jujutsu kaisen.

you've turned the page to: CHAPTER III. RYŌMEN SUKUNA go back to the table of contents.

as if he heard me, he smiled. and his face was like the sun. (the song of achilles / madeline miller)

prologue. → at first, a humble servant, now capturing the attention of the king of curses. suddenly, you're caught between fear, desire, and a really irritating demon with a bad attitude.

excerpt.. one of the guards’ brows lifted, as if you’d said something unexpected. the other, still doubtful, scowled. "and what would you know of sukuna's laws?" you privately thought sukuna's laws would be quite simple. if it moves, beat it with a stick. if it moves again, let's grab a sword and hit it twice as hard.

pairing. demon king!ryomen sukuna x villager!reader (sfw but suggestive!)

song inspiration. goo goo muck — the cramps / i can see you — taylor swift

warnings. sukuna is very much himself, rude and dubious and evil. kissing, making out, mentions of blood and injuries and war. word count. 4.6k!

a/n. im actually so happy w this one lol i was having a bit of a giggle writing it. consistent plot? what is that?

ask/comment/dm to be added to a taglist 🩵

mp3. when the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, i turn into a teenage goo goo muck!

they had bound your wrists with iron chains, biting into your skin and doing little to still the tremor of fear that seized you. the villagers around, or at least what remained of them after sukuna's merciless invasion, shuffled forward in exhausted silence, carrying that eerie pall of defeat. you dared not look at the faces of your people around you, sensing that each set of eyes held the same mute dread that coursed through your veins.

and sukuna's fortress was an ugly, wicked thing. no doubt a testament to his dominion and dark prowess. but one could only avert their gaze from the jagged black stone that tore through the depths of the earth, and iron maw of a gate that glistened with dark stains that you dare not name.

a tall and severe figure stood waiting beyond the threshold, tall and severe, draped in robes of silky onyx that swept against dead leaves. a member of sukuna's household, no doubt, and he had eyes of dying embers.

it seemed that everything in this estate was dead, or dying. you could only hope that you would not join the pile of skulls that clattered in rough-strewn piles on the pavement.

"you all belong to the king of curses now," he intoned in a voice of polished steel, "you will serve him with unwavering obedience, and if you do not..." the man trailed off, splayed his fingers against his neck — and he suddenly bared his jugular upwards and your stomach lurched at the sight. lines and rows of stitches, sickly healed, where one's throat might have been cut. a walking corpse.

"act rightly, or lose your head. he has little patience for insolence or error."

and so, you were led through winding halls, walls of dark stone and low-hanging torches. the air was thick with a strange, almost metallic scent of thick blood and burning coals.

at length, you passed a vast and open chamber, a throne room that was unlike any you could have ever imagined. granted, you came from a small village, and thus, had not seen a throne room before so the bar was already quite low.

massive pillars framed the space, rising up like trees, branching and curling towards a ceiling lost in shadows. gathered around the centre was a council of some sort, hulking and dark curses of varying forms, from towering demons with sharp, ridged spines — to giant warriors with dented armour, from the scourge of warfare.

and at the heart of them, seated upon an iron throne wreathed in dark filigree, and dazzling red stones, was sukuna himself. the king of curses. he was massive, even in respose, broad shoulders and four thick arms that were drapes across the arms of the throne. you weren't quite sure where to rest your eyes, on his shock of dusty-rose hair, or the sharp set of eyes that were the colour of dried, old blood.

you felt a shiver of terror crawl down your spine, before curling at the base in loving tendrils, freezing your limbs in place. and then, with a heart-stopping clarity (though none would believe you), his gaze seemed to fall upon you. for a single, unbearable moment, you were certain he was looking directly inti your soul, with a gaze as sharp as a blade and as hot as a forge. you felt every muscle in your body clench, a sharp ache spreading through you.

but just as quickly, you were shoved forward, and his gaze fell elsewhere — almost bored. the rest of the newly enslaved muttered and murmured nervously as they led you onwards, down yet another corridor.

devilry and villainy aside, sukuna needed to hire a new interior design team. because this many corridors and needless, steep stairs were just unacceptable.

still, you felt those eyes burning in your memory, like four brands seared into your mind and the hollow of your chest.

they finally ushered you into a small chamber, little more than an alcove carved out of stone and lined with rows of rough, wooden pallets and blankets as coarse as burlap. here, you were instructed to remain until summoned to serve, the harsh whispers of the overseers reminding you to act “rightly, obediently, silently,” words that had already begun to feel like a new set of shackles.

and so, life in the palace of the king of curses was like treading on eggshells, and you had learned early on (after losing the contents of your stomach several times, watching brutal executions) that to speak out, or draw attention was a risk. one that could end with chains, or worse.

yet today, as you walked the winding corridors, a commotion caught your ear, and you had slung your basket on one hip — peering around the corner. you had turned to see katsuro, gentle and quiet, being held roughly by two guards, his slight frame no match for the iron grip of their clawed hands. one of the guards was sneering down at him, his expression gleefully cruel. poor katsuro was only two winters younger than you, and hardly built for the life of a warrior, rather a sweet and shy scholar.

"you made a mistake, little human," one guard hissed, his fangs bared in a twisted grin that would do his reflection in the mirror no favours at all, "sukuna demands perfection, and you will learn the price of failure."

katsuro's face had gone pale, his dark eyes wide with fear and you could see his hands trembling, most likely mirroring your own at the moment. it was not fair, the 'mistake' had been minor, a missed steps in the protocol for cleaning the great hall for the evening's feast. you were certain that sukuna was too busy terrorising the weak and bathing in blood to notice that the wrong number of lanterns had been strung up.

driven by something reckless within you, you stepped forward before you could think better of it.

"wait!" your voice rang out, catching the guard’s attention. their eyes fixed on you, surprised at the audacity, and your heart pounded in your chest.

they were probably excited that instead of one human to torture, they would get two.

but you stood firm, lifting your chin to meet their gaze, ignoring how your gut was working overtime to make you nauseous. "punishing him so harshly for a minor mistake — would that truly serve sukuna's purpose?"

the first guard narrowed his eyes at you. "and who are you to question his purpose?"

"i am not questioning it,” you tried to reply smoothly, carefully choosing your words like your life depended on it (because it did), “but rather, i’m considering it from his perspective. the king of curses values loyalty and productivity in his subjects, doesn’t he?"

you didn't quite appreciate how the guards were rolling their eyes in your one moment of courage, you just couldn't have anything around here.

"if the servants are in constant terror of the slightest mistake, they won’t be able to perform their duties effectively. fear is powerful, yes — but so is loyalty. if they feel a measure of mercy, they may serve him more willingly, rather than cowering with each step."

one of the guards’ brows lifted, as if you’d said something unexpected. the other, still doubtful, scowled. "and what would you know of sukuna's laws?"

you privately thought sukuna's laws would be quite simple. if it moves, beat it with a stick. if it moves again, let's grab a sword and hit it twice as hard.

"a great deal, actually,” you replied with a steady gaze, but with a lie basically dancing on your tongue. "every decision is weighed, every outcome calculated. a punishment too severe for a minor fault? it's…," you tried not to say stupid, "...wasteful. if katsuro is punished to the point of uselessness, that is one less pair of hands, and the workload falls heavier on the rest of us." you dared a glance around, noting a few other servants lingering, listening with furtive, hopeful expressions. "wouldn’t it be better to maintain strength among his servants? for his grander plans?"

frankly, you were just pulling words out of thin air. making things up and lying to such an extent that your mother would grab a bar of bitter soap and wash your mouth out. still, one had to be an opportunist to survive.

the guard holding katsuro faltered slightly, glancing at his companion. It was clear they weren’t accustomed to reasoning, and though they looked unimpressed, they were not entirely unmoved.

"fine," the taller guard growled, loosening his grip on katsuro with a snarl. "this one’s lucky you spoke for him. but if he slips up again, no clever words will save him."

with a final warning glare, the guards stalked off, leaving katsuro visibly shaken but unharmed. relief flooded you, and you could suddenly breathe again, and you moved to steady him, as his eyes glistening with gratitude.

"thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

had you turned around and paid more attention to the shadows, you may have noticed the king of curses standing with all four arms crossed, biting the inside of his cheek. he never liked those guards anyway.

the morning air had been crisp, a rare light filtering through the stone walls of the estate as you were woken by unexpected news. you were...summoned? not to some distant hall or remote chamber of, but to the throne room — sukuna's command. the message itself was terse, and impossible to interpret, but you had been wrapped in a cloak and ushered out the door.

and there you stood, among three other summoned servants. each one pale and quiet with apprehensions as you gathered at the base of the throne's towering dias.

sukuna sat sprawled across his throne, two arms flat and still against the arms of the throne, and the other two holding his head up — as if this was the most boring task in the world. but his eyes, all four of them, scanned you and the others with a look of dull interest, and he almost seemed to sigh, rolling his eyes in open exasperation.

"so," he began, and his voice was a low and raspy tone, "you four are my new...personal attendants?" the king of curses leaned back, half-amused and half-irritated.

you felt a prickle of irritation beneath your skin at his obvious disdain, it was not like any of you had been gunning for the job anyway. but you held your tongue, reminding yourself that it was better to stay silent than risk having your sliced and pickled head served on a bloody platter for sukuna's morning snack. still, he noticed your reaction, his lips quirking into a slight smirk as he arched a brow.

"something to say, little servant?" and sukuna's tone dripped with mockery, as though he were daring you to speak.

"not at all, my lord," you replied, managing to keep your voice steady. "merely… adjusting to the honour of being here."

sukuna snorted, barely containing his amusement. "honour," he repeated, as if the word were a joke. "tell me, did they threaten you to get you here on time, or did you simply decide to be obedient today?"

you did not like this bad attitude, but frankly, you lacked three major things when it came to battling sukuna. an immortal soul, an array of weapons, and a spine. so you tamped it down, a faint, thin smile tugging at your lips. "i would have come either way, my lord. threats or no threats."

you would swear that his eyes glinted with a mix of surprise and interest, though he rolled his eyes again as if unimpressed. "spare me the heroics," he muttered. "i need obedience, not gallantry." he looked you over with a critical eye, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. "and i have no use for someone who can’t keep up."

"what a shame that would be for me," you replied, the retort was sharp on your tongue before you could stop yourself. and you felt your heart coil up in fear once more, while you were certain your brain was chasing your tongue around with hammers.

sukuna's gaze narrowed, and a faint, fanged smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "careful, servant. i don’t particularly like attitude from those under me."

you dipped your head, averting your gaze just enough to keep from meeting his eyes directly, you didn't want to lose your lunch. "noted, my lord. i’ll be sure to remember that…if it pleases you."

for a moment, he merely looked at you, his expression inscrutable. then he let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent a shiver through you, something dangerous and thrilling laced in its depths. "very well, then,” he said at last, sounding almost amused. "if you’re so eager to please, you’ll start by attending me closely — very closely. i do like being pleased."

how crass.

you swallowed, catching his faint smirk as he dismissed you all with with a lazy wave of one lower hand, but not before he smiled at you. a cruel and wicked curve of his mouth, but it felt like the heat of a thousand suns. whatever game this was, he intended to play it with you — on his terms.

over the next following weeks, sukuna's summons became frequent and baffling, his demands were a tangle of trivial tasks and strange whims. he seemed to relish keeping you guessing, testing the limits of both your patience and your compliance.

he would call for you in the mornings to help arrange his robes — an affair in which you found yourself having to climb onto a small wooden box to even reach his shoulders, carefully smoothing the crimson and black fabric over the width of his frame. with his arms stretching out from every side, you had to manoeuvre and balance each fold with precise care. and sukuna just watched you intently, an amused smirk tugging at his red-wine lips as you struggled, muttering instructions that barely felt necessary.

yes, you knew how to tie a simple knot.

in the evenings, he’d request you make him tea — a task simple enough, but then he’d take his time to drink it. each sip was drawn out, his gaze occasionally sliding over to meet yours, one brow arched ever so slightly, a smug satisfaction radiating from his silence. he would take another long, slow sip, before turning back to the window, as you shifted your weight from foot to foot, wondering if it was acceptable to launch boiling water at the king of curses. just as a treat.

and then you had been summoned to his chambers to polish a set of blades that had seen their fair share of battles, surely the one that took the lives of your own village, and you shuddered. the blades were heavy, each one forged with a dark, tempered steel that seemed to drink in the dim candlelight. as you worked, your hand slipped, and the edge of one blade sliced through your skin, leaving a sharp, stinging pain and a line of red across your palm. you hissed under your breath, pressing the wound to your tunic as the blood quickly seeped through your fingers.

"stupid," came his voice from behind you, sharp and cold as steel itself. you turned to see sukuna watching, leaning against the doorway with an expression hovering between annoyance and satisfaction, as though your injury were just another way you’d managed to disappoint him, and now he could unleash his tongue upon you. "are you intent on making a mess of my things, or are you simply that clumsy?"

you opened your mouth to retort, a spark of irritation flaring, but bit it back, too exhausted to argue. "it’s just a scratch, my lord," you replied, though the blood was beginning to drip onto the rich furs sprawled across the floor. you quickly wrapped your hand in your sleeve to hide it, hoping to avoid further scorn.

but sukuna must have seen. he let out a low sigh, crossing the room in a few slow strides, and took hold of your wrist, and surprisingly, without a grip that would snap your bones. for a moment, he simply stared down at the cut, his four eyes narrowing with something that looked suspiciously like...regret.

"how ridiculous," he muttered, more to himself than to you, and with a curt wave, he pulled out a cloth from under the blades. but his hands were large, and searing with heat, as they held yours with a shocking deftness as he bandaged the cut.

you dared a glance up at sukuna, only to find his expression unreadable, his gaze focused intently on the task at hand. when he finally spoke, his voice had lost its usual harshness, his tone quiet, almost distant.

"try not to stain the rest of my furs with your carelessness next time," he said, though the words lacked their usual bite.

you wondered if it had finally happened, he'd really lost his mind. there had been no threats of disemboweling, no burning, no being trampled under horses while he ate peaches in the shade of his favourite tree (yes, his threats were that specific).

you murmured a huffed response, more of a mumble, suddenly feeling quite stifled. but sukuna's hands lingered on yours for just a moment longer than necessary, his gaze distant yet searching, as though seeing something he hadn’t expected. then the king of curses drew back, the walls you’d glimpsed in that moment quickly slamming back into place as he straightened, stepping away with a curt nod.

“just go, get some rest before you inconvenience me more," he muttered, barely looking at you now, his tone cool and dismissive. but for the first time, it seemed as though he were hiding something, something even he didn’t quite know how to name.

the air in sukuna's quarters was thick with the scent of burnt incense and faintly lingering smoke, a reminder of the battles he waged just hours ago. as you moved quietly about the room, collecting and folding the strewn garments, you glanced at him, sullen and seated on the edge of his bed. a dark, odious blood was seeping through the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, three jagged wounds crossing his chest and back where the arrows had pierced. though the arrows were long removed, the gashes looked raw and angry, staining the linen with every breath he took.

sukuna noticed your stare, and with a small, reluctant grunt, he beckoned you over. "the bandages…" he muttered, voice heavy with fatigue but his tone demanding. "fix them, redress them. i don't need another healer bumbling over it."

you swallowed, nerves prickling as you gathered fresh cloth and approached him. you so hated wounds, and the sight of blood but it was better than seeing your own spilled for defying him. sukuna remained still, watching you through half-lidded red eyes, his body larger than life, his skin faintly gleaming in the dim light. but he leaned forward slightly, allowing you to reach the wound. with slow, careful hands, you unwrapped the old bandage, then pressed the clean cloth to his skin, feeling the solid warmth radiate from his chest, searing your fingertips with its intensity.

as you worked, wrapping the bandage around his vast, muscular torso, you did your best not to breathe, not with each breath of his matching the rise and fall of your own. and you tried to ignore how his eyes were flickering over you with an intensity that made your heart stammer.

when you finished, the king of curses didn’t move. instead, he brought his hand up, fingers grazing your chin as he tilted your face to meet his. and the pads of his fingers dug into the skin of your jaw.

"tell me…" he began, his voice low, each word a slow murmur. "do you see me as a monster?"

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the words were lost to you. his hand remained firm on your chin, holding you in place as you searched his face — the high cheekbones, the strong jaw, each line and scar a mark of the warrior he was, of the warlord who had taken everything from you. you closed your eyes briefly, feeling the ghosts of flames from your village flicker in your memory.

"it’s… hard to forget what you did," you replied, your voice a whisper, yet steady. "it’s hard to forget that you burned down my village."

a flicker of something — anger, resignation — crossed his face. sukuna let out a long, quiet exhale, a shadow of bitterness touching his voice as he said, "a tiger cannot change its stripes. being a beast is in my nature. i am what i was made to be. you cannot expect elsewise from me, nor would i try to promise it to you."

you held his gaze, your heart beating harder. "i know that now."

his thumb brushed softly against your jaw, lingering. there was something dark and magnetic in his gaze, a glint of restrained hunger that sent a thrill through you, a pulse of awareness that you were crossing an invisible line. maybe someone had hit you on the head, messing with your cognitive awareness. he leaned forward, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin as his two sets eyes dipped to your lips.

for one heart-stopping moment, you felt his mouth ghost near yours, a feather-light touch as though testing, hesitating. the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only him, and his dangerous restraint.

but then, he drew back, jaw set as he tore his gaze away, his hand dropping from your face as though burned. he said nothing, his expression now closed, guarded, as if he, too, was reeling from whatever had just passed between you. you took a shaky step back, pulse racing, not daring to break the silence as you quickly left the room, with some false excuse of disposing of the old bandages (you were going to ask someone else to do it for you).

sukuna's attention had grown increasingly overt, his dark gaze trailing you with a possessive weight whenever you entered the throne room or crossed his path in the vast, torch-lit corridors of his palace. whispers fluttered among the other servants, the concubines, and the court. it was impossible (and almost embarrassing) to ignore the quiet looks and questioning glances they cast your way.

still, a demon could never be expected to be patient forever, and he had sought you out, appearing in the corridor as you were preparing to leave his chambers. his large hand moved to your waist in a firm, claiming gesture, pulling you to him without hesitation, as though he was unbothered by the curious stares around him. you briefly wondered at how just one arm could snap your spine in half, but his touch was almost...fragile.

"you’ve intrigued me," he murmured, his eyes blood-red, glinting as they locked onto yours. "in a way no other has. why do you deny this?" his tone was brusque, but you would have lied if you had said you did not find satisfaction in the way his voice had a snapping plea buried in it.

but sukuna's cruelty was an undeniable part of him; every scar he bore and every command he uttered reminded you of the power he wielded and the danger that simmered just beneath his surface, one that could ravish nations and empire-states. anger, fear, attraction — they were tangled so tightly together you could scarcely tell them apart.

"am i meant to be flattered?"

sukuna chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that resonated through you. "so i am a monster, am i not?" he murmured, his tone almost teasing, yet a sharp intensity flared in his eyes. he leaned close, his face inches from yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. "a monster who could crush you, break you, make you kneel if i so desired…"

you swallowed, fighting the quickening of your breath, but held his gaze, your words biting. "then why don’t you?"

for a moment, he seemed almost stunned, his eyes searching your face. slowly, sukuna reached out, and with an uncharacteristic tenderness, the king of curses had tentatively placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw, just as it had done all those weeks ago. "because," he murmured, "you’re the only one i’m compelled to protect."

your heart slammed in your chest, every part of you at war, caught between terror and something far more dangerous, a yearning that he, and only he, seemed able to awaken. he drew you closer, his lips brushing over your temple, voice barely a whisper, rough and unguarded.

"don’t you see?” he continued, his tone softer, aching, and you wondered if the king of curses would ever deign to beg. "it’s you i crave, you who won’t bow so easily. and i…” he exhaled, as though he had to fight against his very being to snap out the words, "find myself undone."

the intensity in his gaze was pulling you in, daring you to come closer, to test the fire you’d spent so long resisting, the fire that you had long been ghosting your fingers over, letting it lick your fingers. you could feel your pulse thrumming as sukuna drew nearer, his towering form casting a shadow that made you feel both caged and protected.

"you do realise," he murmured, voice a deep rumble, "that i’ve thought of this — of you — every night."

your breath hitched as his words sank in, and you attempted a weak laugh, faint in the air, "your enemies would kill to see you so undone."

one of his hands brushed up your back, pulling you closer, aligning your body with his in a way that left no space between you. with another arm, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his red eyes dark, "i would kill my enemies if they ever laid their eyes on you, in a way that i did not decree."

sukuna's breath was warm against your lips as he leaned down, inch by torturous inch, his mouth hovering just above yours, and you could see the light refract from his pearly fangs, "you have no idea the restraint it’s taken to hold back from this."

and his lips brushed against yours, just a whisper of contact, but enough to ignite something within you. and then, as if some unspoken barrier shattered, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was searing and fierce, pouring all his pent-up longing into that single moment. he moved with raw intensity, his mouth firm, demanding, yet achingly tender as he explored every inch of your lips, making you gasp with the force of it, stoking a heat lower within you.

you felt his two remaining arms circle you, anchoring you securely against his chest as he deepened the kiss, pressing you firmly to him. his fingers splayed across your back, drawing you impossibly closer, and you realised with a shiver that you liked the way he held you — possessive, unrelenting, as if he’d never let go.

and so, though you'd never admit it, you melted into him, your hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath his robes. his lips moved with a rhythm that left you breathless, his kiss filled with a heat that left you weak, pliant in his arms. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and half-lidded, a soft, dangerous smile curving his mouth.

"you’re mine," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with an almost reverent awe. and this time, you leaned up to catch his mouth, enjoying that for the first time in written history, the king of curses had purred.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #works

168 notes · View notes

yourlittlebunnyy · 9 months ago

Text

okay but i can't stop thinking about perv!tamlin that learned how to draw just because he wanted to capture you forever. and I'm not talking about a silly and cute thing. no, that male is obsessed.

perv!tamlin literally has a whole drawer filled with sketchbooks. he doesn't let anyone near his chambers not because they're his, but because of those drawings. you are for his eyes only and he couldn't live knowing others can see how pretty you are.

the first he felt the need to draw you was when you were playing in his gardens. it was an innocent thought. you just looked so beautiful, kissed by the sun and tanning in a little spring dress. your smile was contagious and it was that that made tamlin grab a pencil and a piece of paper. that sketch was his first and honestly? not even that good. but the memories it brings every time he looks at it... if he had to describe the exact same moment he fell in love with you, he would show that drawing.

it started to become less innocent as he started to become more obsessed with you. as i said, in the beginning, it was such a silly crush. he would look at you through the window in his study, admiring as you played with little pets or grabbed some pretty flowers. then he started following you. he started to skip his own duties to find out more about you. he quickly found out that you are a librarian, and live in his palace.

perv!tamlin really became one when he, as every other day, watched you discreetly hidden between to bookcases full of books. you were so cute, talking to everybody and helping them. he was feeling a little jealous, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

usually, during lunch time, the library is always empty. that means you have more time for you, to relax and rest. you often grab a book and read.

today was no exception, you wondered for a bit through the shelters and found a book that caught your interest. tamlin continued to observe you. his intentions today were to draw you reading, since you look so elegant and classy and smart when you wear your glasses and make that concentrated expression.

he watches as you open your book on the page you have left, he quickly grabs his pencils and start to work as you read. his expression is just as concentrated as yours. even some wrinkles appear on his forehead.

a movement grabs his attention, tho. the sound echoing in the empty room, he looks around, wondering what was that. but it's you. you look around with burning cheeks and he needs a few seconds to understand what's actually happening. the scent in the air changes, something sweeter, thicker even. its you. you just got turned on for something you must have read.

he stays as still as possible, praying that you wont see him hiding between the shelters, and his prayers are answered. he doesnt even care about the sketch anymore, his eyes are fixated on you and your gestures as you quickly slide a hand under your dress. his cock gets hard in seconds. this is like a fever dream to him, but he doesnt care. he will savor this moment as much as he can. he only hopes that you wont scent him, but you look too lost in your pleasure anyway.

he can fucking smell your wetness, he can hear the squelching of your sex as you fuck yourself with your fingers. he could have never imagined you were such a dirty girl. he palms his hardness imprisoned under the fabric of his pants, unsure of what to do. he could jerk off like a perv hidden here, watching you enjoy yourself. he could draw you in this exact same moment, with your head thrown back from the pleasure and your lips parted, little puff of air coming out ragged. he opts for the last one. if he can make this moment last forever on paper, then he could have you whenever he wants.

perv!tamlin, at the end, kept his promise. every night comes back from a particularly annoying meeting, he just needs to open that little secret drawer and move some clothes. his sketchbook will always be there, you will always be there. the number of times he came to your drawings his sick, but he stopped feeling shame a long time ago. for him, this is the purest form of love💚

main masterlist

129 notes · View notes

the-princess-of-loki · 10 months ago

Text

Satisfaction

Summary: Loki was your partner over a year ago. Since you ended your relationship a parade of lovers passed by and left Loki’s chambers. However, Loki put a spell on you a long time ago that forbids you to sleep with anybody but him. After more than a year without any release, you decide to look for him. After all, it’s just sex. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, graphic descriptions of smut, oral (both), a bit of BDSM if you squint, very explicit stuff, basically.

I groaned in frustration as I turned around in my bed for the millionth time. Again, I couldn’t sleep. Again, my body was betraying me, begging me to get out of bed, use the secret passage and go to Loki’s chambers at the end of the palace’s hall. I cursed mentally at the rune drawn on my left forearm: the culprit of my frustration. When Loki drew it all those years ago, I didn’t complain. After all, I didn’t want to -and still don’t- sleep with anyone else. But I didn’t know that I wouldn’t be able to satisfy myself. If I touched myself -more than once imagining they were Loki’s fingers instead of mine- that sweet moment of release would never come. Why? Well, it seems Loki wanted to be the only one to satisfy me. I bet he didn’t see our break-up coming…or many he did. One could never be sure with him. He’s the God of Mischief, after all.

The circumstances that led to our break-up were complex. Truth to be told, everything is complex when it comes to Loki. We were in Jotunheim; our son had been born two days before. Loki and I were talking about how much he liked testing and bending the limits to his benefit…and that was when he let out -purposefully or not, I still don’t know that- that he liked testing the boundaries in our relationship as well. I don’t know if my pregnancy hormones were still high on me at that moment or not, but I just asked him whether he wanted an “out”. At first, he denied it and told me he was happy just being with me. But he ended up admitting that he did feel trapped in our relationship sometimes. Thus, without further ado, the following morning I grabbed our son, summoned the Bifrost and came back to Asgard.

A year later, Loki came to Asgard -Gods know why. He told me he realised the mistake he had made by letting me go, that he had tried to find me in other people but couldn’t and that he loved me more than anything. He wanted me and our son back; he wanted our family. Of course, I’ve heard rumours about his very active sexual life when we were apart. And it pained me, but I couldn’t blame him. We were apart, he didn’t have any obligations towards me. It wasn’t his fault that I gave him an out of our relationship while loving him with all my being.

I grunted in the darkness of my chambers. It was so typical of me to defend Loki’s every action. I sighed, sitting up straight in my bed. Just the thought of his name made me wet and lustful for him. I could blame the rune for it, but deep inside, I knew better. I needed him. As simple and as complex as that. And I just couldn’t take it any longer.

I stood up and found my satin robe. My heart was thumping in my chest as I put it on and made my way towards the door. Every bone, instinct and rational part of me was screaming at me with a red sign of how bad this idea was. But my libido, in charge of my every movement at the moment, shut them all up. I didn’t want to think, I wanted to feel.

I took a deep breath when I reached the end of the long hall in Asgard’s Golden Palace. I lifted a trembling hand and knocked on Loki’s door before opening it ever so slightly to peep inside. Loki was half sitting half lying on his bed. His long and strong legs crossed at his ankles, his bare chest barely moving with his relaxed breathing, an old, leather-covered book in his big, strong, sexy hands. My breath got stuck in my throat when I saw him licking one of his very tempting, long fingers before turning the page. And I was undone, right there.

I entered his chambers, closing the door behind me before I walked towards his side of the huge bed we used to share. Loki left the book on his bedside table and then looked at me. I mean, he really looked at me. His green, shining eyes raked over my body wearing only the thin, satin robe. I felt my nipples hardening painfully with that look, and Loki did nothing to hide his growing arousal in his trousers.

“What can I do for you, princess?” He asked with a half-amused grin. He could probably feel my arousal dripping from my legs, but I couldn’t care less at the moment. I wanted him.

“Sex,” I answered simply as if it were the most normal thing in the world for me to ask that of him.

Before he could say anything to my blunt petition, I untied my robe and rolled it down me, standing completely naked next to him. Loki’s eyebrows shot up and he did nothing to hide how he stared at my naked body. I noticed how his member twitched on his trousers. I moved over to him and straddled him on the bed, gasping when I felt his hands grabbing my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. I laid my bare chest on his, my nipples hardening even more at the contact of our skins. I let my lips caress his, our breaths mingling as I looked into his green eyes.

“Just tonight. No feelings, no strings. Just hot, meaningless sex,” I whispered my conditions to him, making sure I was serious enough despite my dripping desire.

Loki moved one of his hands from the side of my hip to the small of my waist and from there, the tips of his fingers left a trail of goosebumps on my spine until he grabbed a lock of my hair and played with it. A sly smirk spread on his tempting lips.

“Nothing we do together is ever ‘meaningless’, princess.”

“Loki, your stupid rune is driving me crazy. I haven’t had any release since the last time we had sex together. I’m so fucking horny…” I whimpered, ashamed.

“You didn’t let me finish, princess,” Loki continued smirking as he rolled us on his bed so he was on top of me. He caressed the side of my body, his green eyes full of lust and something else I chose to ignore. “Our feelings for each other are always present, even when we argue. But, if what you need from me is just physical tonight, I will be more than happy to provide,” He bit the side of my neck, licking the mark he surely left there, before moving his lips to my ear, his breath making me shiver. “After all, who better than me to give you the pleasure you so desperately crave?”

I couldn’t help the small moan/whimper that escaped me at his words. Loki smirked as his hand travelled down the side of my body slowly, almost lazily. At the same time, his expert lips travelled up my jaw to my chin until he finally kissed my lips. Our lips met in a desperate and urgent kiss. His hand on my body left a trail of hotness and goosebumps. His tongue coaxed my lips apart -not that I needed much coaxing anyway. As soon as I parted my lips, our tongues got entangled in a slow, sensual dance that had me begging for more.

While Loki devoured my mouth slowly and sensually, he squeezed my thigh and then moved his hand up until he was cupping one of my breasts. I moaned as his thumb teasingly rubbed my hard nipple, feeling a wave of desire travelling down to my core.

“Always so responsive to my touch, my sweet princess,” Loki whispered as his lips and tongue travelled down my jaw again to the side of my neck and my collarbone.

Loki looked up at me with a smirk and while his hand teased my right breast, his mouth and tongue encircled my left nipple. I moaned and arched my back involuntarily to his touch and mouth. Both his thumb and tongue circled and teased my nipples until they were so hard it was almost painful. Loki always knew perfectly how to play in between that fine line between pain and pleasure.

Loki left his hand cupping my breast, squeezing it softly from time to time, while he moved his mouth down my belly, my navel, my oblique, hip and thigh, leaving a trail of his hot saliva on my body. He grabbed my left leg with his free hand and bent it. He kissed the inside flesh of my knee, going up my thigh and giving me a mischievous look the closer he got to my core. He left a mark on my thigh and a wet kiss on my lower belly before he rested his chin on my groin, a smirk on his appetizing lips.

“Do you want me to make you cum with my tongue, princess?” Loki asked me, his voice so sultry that it had me shivering.

“Yes, Loki. Please,” I begged him with a whimper. He let out a low chuckle.

“No need to beg, princess. While you look lovely begging me, I will confess that I am dying to taste your sweet, wet cunt again.”

His sinful words were almost as hot as his actions. Loki grabbed both my legs and opened them wide. He rested the back of my knees on his shoulders as he positioned himself in between my legs. I felt his expert fingers first caressing and then opening my outer lips, leaving my dripping wet core completely exposed to him. I shivered in anticipation and my breathing was already irregular. Loki licked and nibbled softly my inner lips, giving me that small amount of pleasure/pain we both loved, making me gasp, shiver and moan, all at the same time. Then, he grabbed my clit in between his fine lips and sucked on it a little, making me moan his name louder as I arched my back. He repeated the motion a few times more, letting go and then sucking again, knowing perfectly well what he was making me feel.

I was already dripping wet with his teasing, but once he darted out that hot, sinful, skilful, silver tongue of his and stimulated my clit in 8-like motions I was completely lost. I arched my back even more, grabbed a bunch of his soft, black hair and moaned his name in repetitive gasps. Loki grabbed and squeezed my asscheeks, bringing my body closer to his sinful mouth which was driving me completely insane with desire. I felt inside me that I wasn’t going to last much. We both knew it. I couldn’t say which one of us was enjoying it more, though. Loki was practically fucking the mattress through his trousers while he kept eating my cunt as if he were a starved man. Soon enough, I was feeling that familiar and missed sensation on my lower belly, spreading quickly through my whole body. I felt the tension growing more with each second, my moans of Loki’s name coming out faster and faster. And then, I just exploded in an intense orgasm, the tension slowly disappearing as Loki kept riding me through every aftershock with his tongue. Gods, how I missed this; how I needed this.

When I got out of my blissful state, I noticed Loki was resting next to me, one of his hands holding his head while he licked each finger of the other. Purposefully, when he noticed I was paying attention to him, he passed lazily two of his long fingers along my core and then brought those same fingers to his mouth. He licked them, humming in pleasure and closing his eyes while he did so. However, just as he knew what got me going, I knew his weaknesses too. So while he got me breathless by licking his fingers full of my juices, I palmed his very hard member through his trousers. His reaction was as hot as I remembered it: he moved his hips forward, towards my hand; he let out a sexy, animalistic grunt; and he closed his beautiful green eyes in pleasure.

“Princess…” Loki said breathlessly and a smirk formed on my lips.

I moved on the bed, forcing him to lie down on the mattress. I quickly took out his trousers and breeches, letting his hard, big, throbbing cock free. It immediately bounced up, pointing to its owner as I discarded the pieces of clothing to the floor. I licked my lips in anticipation as I grabbed his member and stroked it a few times. I heard Loki’s breath catch in his throat as I lowered my head. I’m not going to lie: that reaction has the effect of making the most insecure person in the Nine Realms feel empowered.

Instead of going directly for his tip, I encircled his base on my hand and left a trail of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down the sides of his shaft. Loki was digging holes in his bedsheets below him with his fingers; his breathing was completely uneven as his marble-like chest rose up and down quickly; his jaw was tense as he clenched his teeth and his lust-filled green eyes were analyzing my every movement. I smirked, looking up at him as I moved my hand up his big, long, throbbing shaft. I teased his slit with my thumb; a strangled whimper/moan escaped his mouth as he thrust his hips up, almost pleadingly. Even when I felt more empowered than ever at Loki’s reactions to my teasing, I couldn’t deny that I was dying to taste him in my mouth again. Loki was the only man -and woman- who I had been intimate with, but I always thought that there was something really special about his wonderful, unique flavour. Of course, he has never confirmed or rejected this theory of mine.

I encircled my tongue around Loki’s tip, humming in delight at the first taste of his pre-cum. Gods, how I had missed his taste. I couldn’t help but give in to my greedy desires and took as much of his big cock as I could in my mouth. Loki gasped and grunted in pleasure; I could see he was trying hard to stay still and let me set the pace I was most comfortable with. The veins on his throat and neck were heightened, so were the ones on his arms and I could feel the ones inside my mouth throbbing with need.

I closed my eyes, focusing only on my taste buds and their party. I compensated with my hand the part of his shaft that I couldn’t get into my mouth and sucked him hard. I heard how Loki’s head banged against the bed’s headboard, but that only spurred me on as it meant I was doing a good job. I started a steady but frenzied rhythm between my mouth and my hand, sucking him and stroking him while I hummed in delight with every little taste I got of him. We both knew he wasn’t going to last much as he was already over-stimulated for eating my cunt and fucking the mattress at the same time, but that wasn’t relevant to me. I wanted, no, I needed to taste his hot, slightly salty seed. I lifted my free hand and rubbed his balls the way I knew he liked. It only took a few minutes to have him shuddering, moaning and realising all of his hot cum in my mouth. I kept sucking and swallowing everything Loki had to offer me, humming in delight at his wonderful taste. Gods, I have missed it.

“Gods, princess…” Loki whispered breathlessly as he brought my face up to his. “You’re so good at that. No one would guess that I am the only one with the honour of enjoying your wonderful mouth skills…”

Before I could reply, Loki crashed his lips on mine, kissing me so fervently that I couldn’t help moaning. He took that chance to introduce his tongue into my mouth and I moaned again while he groaned. Our tongues met in a hot dance. I could feel my taste on his tongue and I was sure he could taste himself on mine. He left one of his hands on the back of my neck while he moved the other down my body. Loki grabbed my thigh forcefully, probably leaving his fingers marks, but I couldn’t care less at the moment while our tongues kept tangoing. He used his grip to change my position, making me straddle him on the bed. I caressed his bare, sweaty chest while we kept kissing. Loki moved his hand from my thigh to my asscheek; he squeezed it and I moaned again, moving my hips involuntarily. Of course, he knew perfectly well what he was doing to me and I was letting him. This was what I came here looking for, after all.

Loki moved his hand from my neck, down my spine, my butt and my thigh. I felt goosebumps everywhere he touched me. That same hand moved from the back of my thigh to the front while we kept kissing passionately. He caressed my inner thigh, breaking our kiss to kiss and biting my neck. I moaned and exposed my neck to him, closing my eyes and digging my nails on his shoulders. He grunted: I knew how much he liked it when I did that. His hand on the inside of my thigh moved teasingly slowly until he was cupping my cunt. Two of his long fingers caressed my outer lips before he thrust them inside me, making me moan.

“You are so receptive, so wet…all for me, right, princess?” Loki whispered in my ear, his voice was huskier and sultrier than usual.

“Gods, yes, Loki…” I moaned as I rode his fingers in me.

Loki let me move as he groaned and sucked one of my nipples. After a few minutes, though, he removed his mouth and fingers from me, making me whimper at the loss. He smirked and with one swift movement, I was lying on the mattress, my chest flat against it while he kept my ass high, in full display for him. He spanked me playfully and I couldn’t help a gasp, a moan and moving my hips back, silently asking him for another smack. Loki grabbed my hip with one hand, digging his fingers into my skin while positioning himself behind me. He spanked me again and at the same time, he bit my other asscheek, probably leaving a mark. I moaned and begged for more without shame: I was way past that point and I knew how much it aroused him.

I was a panting mess when Loki thrust inside me. One swift movement was enough for his hard, throbbing member to be completely inside me, his tip hitting my sweet spot immediately. I moaned high enough that if Loki’s chambers hadn’t been charmed, the whole palace would’ve heard me and I wouldn’t have cared at all. Loki let out a moan, his fingers digging deeper into my hip. We started a frenetic rhythm, moving our hips together in complete syncronisation. Loki kept smacking me occasionally and that only aroused me more. Of course, he knew it perfectly and that was why he kept doing it.

It wasn’t long until I was feeling the tell-tale sensation in my lower belly, indicating I was close to my climax. I felt my inner walls clenching around Loki’s member more and more which in turn, made him move faster inside and out of me. Loki grabbed a bunch of my hair and made me straighten myself: my back glued to his lean and strong chest.

“Together, princess,” He grunted in my ear.

A shiver went down my spine at his command and I could do nothing but obey him. He kept thrusting inside and out of me with full force, leaving only the tip of his cock inside me and then slamming his whole length inside again. His name fell down my mouth like a sinful prayer until we both reached our climaxes at the same time. We both collapsed on the mattress, riding our afterglow together.

Loki smirked when he saw his cum slowly going down my legs. He used his fingers to collect every drop from my legs and then put it inside me again, my overstimulated core clenching around his fingers, making him chuckle.

“This, right here, is where my seed belongs,” Loki said in a husky whisper as he moved his fingers inside me to emphasize his point.

All I could muster was a faint smile. Being abstinent for a year and now being fucked so thoroughly left me exhausted. We both drifted to an exhausted but satisfied and peaceful sleep.

However, we were woken up abruptly a few moments later by a knock on Loki’s door and our one-year-old son’s voice:

“Papa? I can’t find Mama…can I come in?”

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki friggason #god of mischief #loki fluff #mcu #loki of asgard #loki of jotunheim #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader

79 notes · View notes

divinit3a · 1 month ago

Note

Just wanted to stop by and share some appreciation! I truly adore all your work and AUs!! Especially the chimera alien AU!! (ALL TIME FAV)!!! I think about them a lot, especially the angst-potential... I love how they're so interested in Y/N and just the... like, the moment of connection between them all is all so intriguing. I want to know all about the world of the AU... *dreamy sigh* ...

R0B0S ;-; 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 SNIFFLES 💚💚💚💚💚💚 WHEN I GET YOUUU 💚💚💚💚💚 RAHHHHH 💚💚💚💚

thank you!! seriously!! it means a lot, thank you for your kind words... 💚💚💚

it's been fun slowly stitching the world and a story together... there's so much I want to tackle and share in the future!!

a little writing tidbit for now... hehe 🫱

You sit in front of the specimen tank. You are tasked with its feeding today, for the first time on your own. The instructions are stamped within your mind.

The food is a high-protein pellet. The same tasteless morsel you've had the shame of eating while low on credits on other ships. It may be tougher than an asteroid rock, but it keeps you alive once digested.

The lights in the lab are kept dim. You settle in place. You put the small tray of pellets into a compartment up top and seal it closed. A safety timer runs. While that goes, you press a button that opens up the viewing hatch to let meager bits of light into the otherwise void-like darkness of the containment chamber.

You take in a deep breath, clear your mind, and stick your arms through the inset rubber gloves. The timer dings, and the food palette is available inside the chamber, where your hands, protected by military grade rubber, can reach it.

Inside, specimen 3-192114 is asleep. Or its version of it. The sight of the parasite reminds you of sea life on the pages of old books about ocean life on Earth.

Starfish, the word comes to mind unbidden.

The thought that slips out stirs the specimen, though its eyes remain lidded and closed.

Staying calm after the blunder, you take the food into one hand. Instructions are to set down the tray, and observe the creature to ensure it has accepted, and eaten, all the food.

The alien is about the size of your head, give or take. Smaller than you initially imagined such high risk creatures should be, but perhaps manufactured by human intention. Its moving around, although rather slowly. All its tendrils move independently from each other as if lacking coordination whatsoever.

It creeps over to your hand holding the food, touching and feeling everything along the way. You go to set down the tray —

A tendril winds around the glove instead. You stay calm. And observe. It creeps up your arm, some of the tendrils remaining on the ground to set up a quick retreat. But it grabs the pellets one by one, a tendril dragging it to the center of its body, where you presume a mouth must be hiding.

It eats all the palettes fast. But then it continues to crawl around your hand, fastening to it, inspecting, as if more food can be scavenged. Cute, you can't help but think. You always thought the idea of animals or pets was so exciting and otherworldly. Hardly any Earthen animals were aboard the spaceships. The central hub had a few farming staples, but there was a rare amount of folks who owned pets.

The mistake alerts the aliens awareness at last. Magenta eyes blink open as it launches to the side of the tank where you sit. The eyes leer at you, willing you to look, look, look.

Remaining calm outwardly as your mind races, you take an arm out the gloves. And press the button which swiftly slams the observation hutch closed.

The pressure on your mind lessens and you let out a deep sight, leaning back.

#<3 sniffles. i appreciate u...#in my heart. there is a 3 arc story #in my time management skills.. well... we shall find out--FJHSDGH #:D <3 #pom yaps #pom writes #chimera cosmic au #dca alien au #dca fandom #dca community #sun fnaf #sun x yn #x reader

22 notes · View notes

austinbutlerslovers · 1 year ago

Note

Can we get a teaser of the feyd fic

It is almost complete, minor details are subject to change. Here is the scene mentioned in the summary:

Feyd Fantasy Part II <Excerpt>

The Barons Favorite

The Baron speaks with his advisors in the morning about the upcoming gladiatorial fights around the massive table in the meeting hall. When the assembly concludes he uses his hover suit to bring the men of court to watch Feyd in combat training.

Part Two Complete✍🏼

He is proud of the accomplishments of his nephew Feyd, he is the Barons favorite over his older brother Glossu Rabban Harkonnen.

After making several public embarrassments to the family name the Baron had Feyds brother Rabban shipped to Arrakis. He gives him one last chance to prove his worth controlling their families most lucrative venture, harvesting spice.

Though ominous and foreboding the Baron is an obesely over weight man. He can no longer walk without the assistance of integrated technology to reduce the burden of his weight. His hover suit is implanted into his spine with thick tubes connected on two small orbs. The orbs float behind him carrying the chemicals which enable him to defy gravity.

They arrive to the second story of the courtyard in Feyds quarters. When the men gather looking down into the training pit on the first floor it is deserted. A low murmur begins between his advisors as to the where abouts of Feyd. Always eager to show off his knife skills Feyds absence is jarring.

The Baron immediately hovers to Feyds chambers and finds them empty as well. Feyds male Page appears at the entrance hearing the commotion.

“Well where is he?” The Baron snaps “You are to be at his side at all times have you forgotten your purpose”The Baron is fuming at the Pages insolence.

The Page trembles knowing the truth and averts his eyes from the Barons sinister Gaze “Spit it out or I cut it out” the Baron says coldly. He hovers into the young man’s personal space. The Page knows both men will readily slit his throat.

He divulges enough not to be dispatched by either “He and his lady are in the great halls of the fortress. I’m not sure where but he wanted to show her the grandeur of Geidi Prime” the Baron squints in anger how idiotic at a time like this with so much at stake to impress his new bride. His scowl deepens because Feyd above all neglected his training. For that he will be heavily punished.

The Great Meeting Hall

After touring your fifth great hall with Feyd it is readily apparent his family has amassed a great fortune with power and control over the populous of Geidi Prime.

He pushes open the large black inscribed doors of the meeting hall. There are thrones at opposite ends raised on platforms with stairs. The high floor to ceiling windows display the industrial city scape and a grand table that can seat fifty people occupies the majority of the floor space. Everything is void of color, only stone marble, black and granite can be seen in the gigantic area.

You walk over to the throne on your left “is this one yours?” Your voice echos in the large hall. Feyd nods, his hands are clasped behind his back. He follows you around the room as you study the furniture and the giant painting of his uncle and then of himself. There is a portait of a third Harkonnen male next to Feyds but he interrupts your thoughts before you can ask the identity.

“This is where the most important decisions are made on Geidi Prime, as well as another secret room with the cones of silence” he adds.

“What are cones of silence? “ you ask. The words are somewhat familiar to you.

“They are able to mute all sounds around them, only the two inside can hear each other.” He answers as he imagines himself fucking you inside of one until he makes you scream in pleasure as loud as he possibly can. He stops walking and stands behind you.

You've paused to study something that caught your eye. His eyes wander your form up to the beauty of your side profile. He can’t help himself as his hand trails down your shoulder. “Do these things in impress you?” He asks. You finally look over your shoulder at him.

You had been mesmerized studying an ancient Harkonnen sword on display. It is carved with hieroglyphs that date back centuries. It represents how his entire culture revolves around war and greed . “Yes ” you say addressing his question to be kind. You turn back to looking at the sword again. Inside you are deeply longing for your home world.

You remember the beautiful gardens, waterfalls, flowers, and colors of life. You especially miss the large atrium where you would read for hours basking in the afternoon sunlight. The warm rays would kiss your skin as it filtered through the glass dome.

Laying on a spacious out door ottoman with your fellow Bene Gesserit sisters honing your skills in the palatial gardens seemed like a dream now.

Feyd sees you lost deep in thought and softly grabs your chin “What would impress you more” he asks with intent. He knows you aren’t fond of the ways on Geidi Prime. You don’t have an answer so you remain quiet.

He knows one thing he has that impresses you on end. He gently pulls you into a kiss. His bottom lip rubs softly with yours as his warm tongue fills your mouth.

He ignites your passions and you place your hands on his jaw. You lean your head with his as you kiss him in return. You want to focus on the carnal and forget your distant memories. He presses himself against you and the heat of his body claims you.

He turns you walking back as he kisses your lips until you are met against the grand meeting hall table. He sits on the edge and moves to the center. He rests back on his heels beckoning you to come.

You climb onto the edge and crawl to him. Now both in the center he holds your jaw and pulls you close. His lips find yours again hungrier than before.

You feel his teeth bite into your lower lip and tug. It arouses you and he releases your lip to do again. Then he envelops his mouth completely onto yours. You feel the hardness of his cock as he presses it into your thigh.

He wants to defile you on this table. He smirks at the high disrespect to the Harkonnen dynasty he is about to commit. Soon this will all belong to him so what does it matter. He pushes you back to lie flat against the stone slab. You gaze up above him to the metallic barbs of the chandelier until his face obstructs your view.

His hands start at your knees grabbing the hem of your gown sliding it up to your hips.

His hands clutch one side of your panties tearing them apart making you gasp. He tears the other side and rips them clean from your body.

You watch as he sits back on his heels between your parted legs. He unhooks the clasp of his pants and pulls his thick veiny cock out. The contrast of the black fabric against his large hardened pale cock is striking.

His slaps his pink tip on your clit to edge you.

You flinch at each tap as it makes your bundle of nerves jump. He slides his hand down your thigh to meet your hip and holds you steady. He lines himself up and thrusts into you so roughly you have no time to adjust to the feeling.

Your vision goes hazy as your back arcs from the table. His penetration shocked you senseless. His large cock expands parts of you that you never knew existed. He watches how your face changes from pain to pleasure and back again as you try and relax around the girth of his size.

He wants to spur you on and leans down pressing his chest to yours. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck titling your head so he can speak softly into your ear.

”You are so beautiful to me” he says as his eyes study your side profile. He traces his thumb on your lower lip as you pant for him. “So desperate for my cock, the way you’d let me fuck you on this table you’d let me do anything to you” a moan escapes your lips as he shushes you “Just lay still and look pretty while I fuck you until you stretch open for me” you moan louder at his words.

He begins to roughly thrust inside of you like he wants to posses you. His cock hits your core at a dangerous pace. Your breasts bounce with every push of his hips. He is already becoming lost in pleasure grunting above you. He loves the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his throbbing cock.

You arc your back down flat to brace yourself against his rutting. “You…feel too good on my cock” he rasps out as he finally hits the thrust that stretches you around his size. He stares down into your eyes completely transfixed by the physical connection between your bodies.

Unbeknownst to you both the Baron has finally narrowed his search. After spying into several halls down the corridor his servants waves him over finally finding the one you are in. The Baron peeks through the discreet opening made by one of the nimble servants. There on the middle of the table in the grand meeting hall he sees Feyd fucking you ruthlessly.

Your are constantly being pounded into the stone slab table by his strength. His hips begin slapping harder against you as he thrust between your legs. You hold out until the familiar tightening in your abdomen begins. Your moans start to fill the air.

As your walls clench around him it makes his cock feel incredible inside of you. Your eyes stare up at him, pleading and begging for release.

He sees the neediness in your eyes and brings his hand between your bodies touching your clit. His finger tips are wet by your arousal and he slicks them expertly in firm circles around your bundle of nerves.

It sends shocks though your core that radiate your entire body “YES please Feyd just like that“. You are unable to string together another sentence as you orgasm. He strums your clit as hard as he can with his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

His mouth opens when he feels the pleasurable sensation of your walls milking his cock from the orgasm. He pins your wrists next to your head and plows into you even harder his release is immediate. His pace falters as he orgasms. You both moan as he paints rope after rope of his hot cum into your cervix.

He rests down on his elbows laying his full weight on you panting. He kisses your lips passionately with his final slow thrusts. His breath shudders into your mouth as he feels his cock empty inside of you.

He plants soft kisses around your face as he comes down. Each one more tender and loving than the last. His heart feels revived when he’s with you. He cradles your head in his hands staring deeply into your eyes. You smile at him and he smiles back, this time it isn’t like his sinister ones before, this one is radiant you see the kindness return in his eyes.

His uncle spying on the entire moment becomes enraged : not at the fact Feyd missed training, not at the fact he satisfied his carnal urges on the sacred meeting hall table, but at the fact Feyd put a woman’s pleasure before his own. The Baron turns away in disgust his patience is severed.

He raised Feyd with enough brutality and greed to become a ruthless tyrant. Now he sees every aspect of brutally he instilled in Feyd quickly being stripped away by a female. He never thought this was possible.

He is resolute in his decision to regain control. He will take out two problems with one swift action: Punishing Feyd by having you removed from his presence entirely.

[Sneak Peek: Full fic in finalization]

.⚔️ Fic Tag list: @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @hardcoredisneynerd @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @lovereadingfanfic @steph-speaks @maloribarnes1999 @meetmeatyourworst @moony-artemis @xxxstormyninixxx @prettypinkblogger @thegabbyh

302 notes · View notes

doodle-pops · 11 months ago

Text

「 ✦Discovering You Writing Fanfiction About Them✦ 」

Headcanon: Curufin, Turgon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Beleg, Gwindor

A/N: I had a ball of a time writing this one. Please enjoy the crack and humour I’ve written.

「 ✦Curufin✦ 」

Always curious about the little notebook you kept so closely guarded, and how you manically laughed as you acribbled across the page, Curufin had his mind set on being a little mouse. You had never been secretive, exactly, but you were always quick to close it whenever he walked into the room. So one day, when you were out gathering herbs, Curufin’s curiosity got the better of him. He picked up the notebook, casually flipping through the pages. At first, he was intrigued. Then his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

“By the Valar…” he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the words on the page. The story depicted him—Curufin the Cunning, the master of craft, the sharp-witted son of Fëanor—as a bumbling, lovesick fool who couldn’t tell a forge from a farm. And was he really wearing a flower crown while spouting poetry about how beautiful your eyes were compared to the “gleaming stars of Elbereth”?

When you returned, finding him sitting at the table with your notebook open in front of him, his expression was a mixture of horror and disbelief, not far off from yours at his discovery. “Care to explain this?” he asked, his voice strained as he tapped a finger on the offending passage.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his expression. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”

Curufin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve turned me into some kind of…lovestruck poet! And what is this nonsense about me trying to bake bread for you and burning down half the kitchen? I’m a master craftsman, not some…incompetent oaf!”

“Have you ever seen yourself in the kitchen making the simplest of things,” you teased, leaning over to read the part that had him so outraged. “I thought you’d enjoy it!”

“Enjoy it? You have a cruel sense of humour. Change this, please!" Curufin pleaded, his voice almost panicked. The thought of anyone—especially his brothers—reading such a portrayal was too much to bear. “I have a reputation, you know. This—this will ruin me!”

You shook your head, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Well…I can always write about you being a brooding, melodramatic anti-hero who monologues about his dark, tragic past while throwing in some utterly cringe-worthy lines like, “No one understands the deep abyss of my soul, not even my beloved.”

“Absolutely not! Furthermore, that suspiciously sounds like you’ve already written it,” he accused as his fingers flipped the pages, searching for the story.

Setting your basket of herbs down, you chuckled, “Maybe, however, this one stays. Besides, no one else is going to read it…unless you keep making such a fuss about it."

Curufin groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This is not right!”

“If you continue to complain, I’ll write you more tragic than you already are,” you replied, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He gave you a withering look but couldn’t stay angry. “At least give me a heroic death or something…not this ridiculous baking disaster. I have standards!”

You laughed again, knowing full well that no amount of pleading would make you change a word. Curufin could only shake his head, muttering to himself as he walked away, “A flower crown… really?”

「 ✦Turgon✦ 」

When he discovered that you had been writing stories about him, his curiosity was piqued. He imagined grand epics or tales of his wisdom, but when he found the actual content, his reaction was...less than pleased.

He sat across from you in your shared chambers, holding the offending parchment as if it were some dark relic. “You wrote this about me?” he asked, his voice incredulous. You could see his composure faltering as he glanced down at the text once more. “I’m a tyrant who imprisons wayward poets and forces them to compose odes to my magnificence? And what is this about me turning into a dragon at night?”

You tried to stifle your laughter but failed miserably. “It’s just a story, Turgon. You’re the tragic anti-hero who loses his mind and his kingdom.”

He gave you a look that was equal parts exasperation and disbelief. “Tragic anti-hero? I’m a lunatic in this! And why on earth would I turn into a dragon? My ancestors never had anything to do with dragons!”

You shrugged, an innocent smile playing on your lips. “Artistic license?”

Turgon groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is not how people should see me! I’m not some unhinged ruler obsessed with power and—wait, do I really speak in third person in every single chapter?” He flipped through the pages, his eyes widening with every line. “Turgon commands! Turgon decrees! Turgon is displeased!”

“It adds to the drama,” you teased, leaning back and crossing your arms. “And the readers seem to enjoy it. If you want, I can merge it with another idea where you have a penchant for over-the-top declarations and an obsession with your own reflection.”

“I do not swoon at my reflections!” he whined.

“‘And lo, Turgon, the fairest of all Eldar, gazed upon his reflection, and the very heavens wept at his beauty…’” you mocked, lifting a hand to your forehead, pretending to swoon.

“No! I am not that vain! And who are these readers, and why do they enjoy such madness?” he demanded, looking genuinely baffled.

You chuckled. “Um…your Lords, especially Penlod. He’s impressed by my creativity,” you sheepishly muttered, “They find you entertaining. It’s just fiction, Turgon. People love a good villain.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “You read to my Lords that I’m a villain. I don’t even have a nefarious plan! And this duel with Fingolfin—why would I challenge my own father?!”

You reached over and patted his hand, still unable to wipe the smile off your face. “Maybe you need to lighten up a bit. It’s all in good fun.”

Turgon sighed, staring at the parchment like it was a betrayal of everything he stood for. “Can’t you at least make me less…absurd? A little more dignified?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully, plucking the story from his hands. “That would ruin the whole point.”

He slumped in his chair, utterly defeated. “This is torture.”

“Of course it is,” you replied, grinning. “And the more you protest, the more inclined I’d be to release an even more ridiculous story.”

Turgon gave you a long, suffering look before burying his face in his hands. “As if this wasn’t already absurd…”

「 ✦Finarfin✦ 」

He had assumed you were writing poetry or perhaps a letter. Even the way you would double over your papers, laughing and snickering as your quill scribbled across the page, still never led him to imagine that you were penning elaborate tales about him. One evening, curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked over your shoulder as you wrote. Instantly, him eyes fell from his sockets as he read the words on the page.

“What… what is this?” he stammered, barely able to believe what he was seeing. In your story, Finarfin—noble and wise King of the Noldor—was portrayed as a dark, brooding figure who lived in a shadowy tower, plotting mysterious schemes and cursing his foes with ancient, forbidden magic.

You looked up at him with a grin, clearly unrepentant. “Oh, just a little something I’ve been working on.”

“Little? ”he repeated, aghast. “You’ve turned me into some kind of…evil sorcerer! And this dialogue! ‘The night shall swallow your soul, and darkness shall be your only companion’? I would never say that!”

You burst out laughing at the sheer horror in his voice. “But it’s fun! Besides, you’re kind of cool as a dark lord.”

Finarfin gave you a long, hard look, his hands on his hips. “I cannot allow this to stand. Change it! What if someone reads this? They’ll think I’ve gone mad!”

“You worry too much,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just fantasy. And besides, who’s going to read it? It’s not like I’m publishing it, or maybe I should. Think of the fortune I’d make….” You whispered more to yourself than him while rubbing your chin.

He sighed, clearly distressed. “This is so far from who I am! You’ve made me sound like some villain out of a children’s tale! Please, my love, I implore you…write something more…accurate.”

“Accurate?” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Like what? The time you got lost in the gardens and refused to ask for directions?”

Finarfin’s face turned a delightful shade of pink, and he shook his head fervently. “No! Something dignified…perhaps a tale of wisdom or…or bravery?”

You smiled sweetly, patting his arm. “Ugh, too boring. No one would read that. I’m quite fond of Dark Lord Finarfin.”

Finarfin sighed in resignation, realising he wasn’t going to win this battle. “If this ever gets out…”

“You wouldn’t die,” you assured him, though the twinkle in your eye suggested you were thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself. “You truly are incorrigible.”

“At least I’m talented, right?,” you said, kissing his cheek.

Finarfin laughed softly, wrapping an arm around you. “Indeed, for bizarre tales.”

「 ✦Egalmoth✦ 」

Known for his epitome of elegance and grace, a Lord whose charm and wit were unmatched, he was secretly thrilled when he found out that you had taken up the pen to write stories about him. That is, until he actually read what you had written.

He stormed into the room, holding the pages as if they were an orcish weapon. “Is this your idea of a joke?” he asked, his usually calm and melodic voice now tinged with outrage.

You looked up from your work, biting back a smile. “What’s wrong, darling?”

Egalmoth’s eyes narrowed as he read aloud. “The Dark Lord Egalmoth, with his army of cursed skeletons, ruled Gondolin with an iron fist, forcing his subjects to worship him or face the wrath of his pet sphinx.” He looked up, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. “A sphinx, really?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “I thought it was a nice touch. You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“This is not dramatic! This is ridiculous! You’ve made me into a laughingstock! A…a parody of myself.” He waved the parchment at you. “Oh, woe is me, for I am but a poor, misunderstood Lord, doomed to be misrepresented for all eternity… I’m one of the most beloved lords in Gondolin!”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re proving my point. Plus, people love a good villain. And it’s not like you’re entirely like that, the evil part I meant.”

He groaned, dropping the parchment onto the table. “And what’s with the cursed skeletons? Where did they even come from? I’ve never dealt with necromancy in my life!”

“Artistic license,” you said with a wink.

Egalmoth threw his hands up in the air before pointing them at you. “There’s artistic license, and then there’s…whatever this is!” He picked up the pages again, flipping through them. “And what is this about me challenging Glorfindel to a duel over a hat?”

You grinned. “It’s an epic battle for the most fabulous headwear in all of Gondolin. Glorfindel’s hat has feathers, and yours is made of a kaleidoscope of gemstones. The stakes couldn’t be higher.”

Egalmoth stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. “This…this is madness. Utter madness. I would never duel someone over a hat!”

“But think of the drama!” you insisted, laughing as you reached for the parchment. “It’s all in good fun. You can be the dark, brooding anti-hero.”

“I don’t want to be a dark, brooding anti-hero,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “And what about this scene where I banish Tuor for using the wrong fork at dinner? I would never do that!”

You shrugged, grinning mischievously. “You might, if it was your favourite fork.”

He stared at you in disbelief. “Please, for the love of Eru, change this. I beg you.”

“Fine then,” you said cheerfully, tucking the parchment away. “I’ll write a story where you you’re portrayed as a flamboyant and melodramatic Lord, prone to fainting at the slightest inconvenience and speaking in overly poetic riddles. But know that the more you protest, the more outrageous it will become.”

Egalmoth groaned dramatically, leaning against the wall as if his life’s burdens had suddenly become too heavy. “You’re going to ruin my reputation, you know that?”

“Don’t worry,” you teased. “Your reputation in the fanfic world is already legendary.”

He looked at you, defeated but with a twinkle of humor in his eye. “Hmm, sure.”

「 ✦Beleg✦ 」

Being a curious elf had its perks, which meant getting into more trouble than he liked to admit. Like the day you were out gathering herbs and fruits and he stumbled upon a leather-bound journal tucked under your pillow. His natural curiosity got the better of him, and before he knew it, he was leafing through the pages, his eyes widening with each word he read.

When you returned, you found Beleg sitting cross-legged on the bed, your journal open in his lap, a look of pure disbelief on his usually composed face. "Is this…me?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement. You froze, immediately recognising the situation.

“Uh, maybe?” you replied, trying to gauge his reaction.

Beleg cleared his throat, reading aloud in an exaggerated tone, “‘Beleg Strongbow, the mighty and majestic warrior, paused mid-battle to admire his reflection in the river, his hair flowing like a golden waterfall as he struck a pose worthy of the Valar.’”

You cringed internally as he continued, “A pose worthy of the Valar, really? Do you truly think I spend my time in battle preening like a peacock?”

You couldn't help but laugh at his horrified expression. “It’s just for fun, Beleg. People enjoy reading about a more…dramatic version of you.”

He shot you a look that was both exasperated and pleading. “But this isn’t me! I don’t pose mid-battle! I certainly don’t spend hours grooming my hair—golden waterfall? My hair isn’t even golden!” He looked genuinely distressed as he skimmed through more of your work.

“Here’s another one!” he exclaimed, reading aloud, “‘Beleg, the bravest of all, leaped from the treetops, only to get tangled in the vines, dangling upside down as he tried to maintain his dignity.’” He paused, raising an eyebrow at you. “Tangled in vines? I’ve never been tangled in vines in my life!”

You tried to stifle your giggles, but they escaped anyway. “Come on, Beleg, it’s just a story! It’s supposed to be exaggerated.”

Beleg looked at you with wide, earnest eyes. “Please, change it. Just a little? Make me…less ridiculous?”

You shook your head, grinning. “Would you prefer if I wrote you off in a battle?”

His sighed halted as he stared at you in utter disbelief at your choice of changing the story. “How is that any better that before? And why would you kill me?”

“Because I’m the author and I can do whatever I want to the characters, and fhey can’t do a single thing about it,” you replied cheerfully, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “But look on the bright side, at least now people know you have a sense of humor!”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “A sense of humour! That’s the last thing people would recognise in these stories. But please don’t make me die—I’m too heroic to die. Write about me saving you like I always do.”

For the rest of the day, Beleg chastised you mercilessly, to not kill off his character in any of your stories you planned on writing about him in the near future. Begging to have an input the tales about him, so they would have to be as painfully awkward as you pen them.

「 ✦Gwindor✦ 」

Never the type to pry, but the sight of you giggling to yourself as you wrote in your journal piqued his curiosity. While you were out of the room, he couldn’t resist, opening your journal to a random page and beginning to read. What he found had him staring at the pages in utter disbelief.

According to your writings, Gwindor was some kind of brooding, tortured soul who wandered the forests at night, muttering dark prophecies to himself and scaring off woodland creatures with his gloomy presence. And the love letters! They were all sappy, over-the-top declarations that had Gwindor cringing. If he had any idea how you were portraying him, he might have refused to ever speak again.

When you came back, you found Gwindor standing there, journal in hand, looking at you with wide eyes. “What…is this?” he asked, holding up the open book, looking like he was reasy to cry.

You immediately knew what he was talking about and burst into laughter. “Oh, that? It’s just a little fanfiction,” you replied, trying to downplay it.

Gwindor’s jaw dropped. “A little fanfiction? You’ve turned me into a wandering spirit of doom! I don’t wander around muttering dark prophecies! And this love letter—” he pointed to a particularly sappy passage, “—isn’t this a bit much?”

You couldn’t stop laughing as Gwindor continued to stare at the journal, utterly appalled. “It’s for fun!” you said between giggles. “Besides, it’s not that far from reality.”

“Not that far?” Gwindor repeated, aghast. “I’ve never even written a love letter in my life that sounded like this!” He mimicked the overly poetic lines with an exaggerated, tragic tone, making you laugh even harder.

Gwindor groaned, closing the journal and giving you a pleading look. “Please, please change it. You’ve made me sound like a character from a bad romance novel!”

“So you think my writing and creativity are bad then?” you asked with a straight face, watching as he fumbled around for the right words.

“Not for me,” he said, giving you a look that was almost comically serious. “At least let me have some dignity in your stories.”

“But it’s so entertaining!” you teased, reaching for the journal, but Gwindor held it back. You shook your head, grinning. “Plus, that’s too boring! Gwindor, the brooding, tortured soul stays.”

Gwindor sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “You’re going to ruin my reputation!”

You walked over and kissed his cheek, laughing at his mock misery. “Don’t worry, love. Your secret’s safe with me—and whoever reads the fanfiction.”

Gwindor gave you a long-suffering look, but his lips were twitching with the effort not to laugh. “You owe me for this, you know.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Threatening the author who can turn your character into anything they want it to be, now?”

Sheepishly grinning, he pulled you close. “Yes. I’m threatening you to write me not broody and dark. I’m a nice elf who doesn’t wander the forest at night.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No promises, Gwindor. No promises.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @ladyenchanted @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings @hermaeuswhora

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

87 notes · View notes

angelanimedesaray · 4 months ago

Text

Wings in the Dark Chapter 31: The Same Page

AN: Okay, this is the only other chapter I had sitting in my google drive hiding from you all. Next chapter is where I just picked up writing again the other week, rusty with writing Levi and everyone all over again, I'm gonna go back over it one more time and see if it needs another polish before moving onto chapter 33. I'm hoping to always have one chapter already finished while I'm writing the one after it (i.e. I'm publishing 31, 32 is already written, and I'm working on 33) just to give myself a cushion so I don't stress myself out about it.

Also, i love you guys, thank you so much for all the messages I've been getting all week celebrating my still living status and the return of the story, it made my week, really.

...I was going to make you wait until tomorrow for this, but I'm tired and I already have it all ready so I might as well just flashbang you with another chapter again with no warning hahahahaha, this is turning into a trend/pattern

Characters: Levi, Vampire!Fem!Reader, OC Vampire Character (Emery), Hange (Briefly), Petra (Briefly), Erwin (Mentioned)

Pairing: Levi x Vampire!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Spice but not Smut (Making Out, some wandering hands, a flash of some vivid imagination, steamy stuff like that), Discussion of Sex (Brief)

Word Count: 11569 (Remember when these chapters used to only be around 6000 words???)

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Reader’s POV*

Emery hadn’t been expecting you to return so soon after the botched hunt. Your appearance at his cave had been more than just a little surprise for him–the poor kid actually tried to jump you, thinking you were an intruder, which just ended with him flat on the back with the wind knocked out of him and a resounding crack of his head against rock that actually had you checking him over to make sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked his head open in the process of defending yourself. Once Emery had caught his breath again and you were certain there wasn’t any blood matting the hair at the back of his head, you sat him down in order to have a precursor to the upcoming discussion. Or rather, officially give him the warning, and try to lay some ground rules on Emery’s side in order to try and give Levi a bit more of a safety net coming to see the fledgling vampire.

Emery had already known that there was a human working with you, that knew your secret, so you didn’t have to give that part of the explanation. Thankfully, that meant you were able to cut right to the chase and discuss why he was coming, and try to establish methods to help Emery not attack him when he came.

“I thought you didn’t want him anywhere near me because you were worried I’d attack him?” Emery asked once you’d told him of Levi’s impending arrival, shifting uncomfortably where he was currently seated on the floor of the cave. Thankfully, there was still no hint of offense in his tone over your continued concern for Levi’s safety around him–Emery was painfully aware of how dangerous he was to humans right now, which was why you hadn’t heard any protest from him about living in isolation for the time being. If anything, Emery seemed more concerned about Levi’s safety than why Levi would be coming.

You didn’t tell him that you were pretty sure Levi could take him in a fight easily, even with the vampire abilities, considering Levi could beat you in a fight. You would rather Emery worry and end up not needing to have worried so much, than he didn’t take it seriously enough and something bad happened. This was going to be Levi’s first face to face impression of the teenager, as well as a meeting that was going to basically decide Emery’s future–he needed to be taking this seriously in every way possible.

Your soft sigh still echoed around the deep chamber of the cave, though you remained still in your spot leaning against the wall further from the tiny, flickering fire Emery had going than his spot on the ground. “That’s still a concern. And he’s well aware that I’m not happy about it, that I’m concerned about his safety, but…he has his own concerns about my safety when it comes to what I’m risking to help you. With how poorly things went last night, he needs to meet you for himself, and he’s going to have questions.”

“...what kind of questions?”

Emery’s voice was small, and for a moment, it looked to you like the shadows of the cave would swallow him whole and drag him into the depths of the small cave system he was currently using for shelter. You weren’t doing much to put his mind at ease about this meeting, but it wasn’t a good thing that they were having it. Emery’s refusal to really hunt had, as Levi pointed out, put you in a far more difficult position, and he needed to learn the gravity of the situation.

“I didn’t ask–I’m not his superior, he doesn’t have to run them by me, first. And he has every right to be worried about my involvement with you and the position I’m in now, especially after hearing about last night. He hasn’t been happy about me getting involved with you out of concern for my safety since day one, and now the problems are getting big enough he can’t stand by anymore.”

You could have gone into the strange power structure between you, Levi, and Erwin, how you answered to them but were also somewhat independent, at least with this, how Levi monitored you and Erwin made the final decisions, but you’d only told Emery about Levi because he’d been there that night when you’d met the kid face to face, and you hadn’t even told Emery Levi’s name in order to protect them if things went sideways with Emery.

And besides, Levi was the one who wanted to give Emery a ‘reality check’, and since you didn’t know how exactly he was going to do that, you were going to play your cards close to your chest in the meantime, at the very least so you didn’t accidentally ruin something for whatever Levi had planned. You were just here to give Emery the heads up and a little bit of preparation in meeting Levi.

Emery, however, only seemed more confused by your statement. “Why is he risking his safety to come up here and talk to me himself, rather than you simply being the one to say whatever needs said? If this is about last night, you’re the one helping me, shouldn’t you be the one talking with me about what comes next?”

“Because it’s more than that. Because he wants to meet you himself and get a first hand understanding of the situation and the person I’m trying to help before his part in deciding what comes next. Because he’s of the opinion that I’m too close to this to effectively have this conversation, and…I agree with him.”

That was fear you could see starting to creep into his eyes. The way his foot stopped its slow bounce under his crossed legs, the way his lower lip drew in like he was resisting the urge to start worrying it between his teeth, the way he drew in a breath he didn't fully release as the realization started to settle over him; all of it indicated that the severity of what was about to happen was starting to fall over him.

“This is sounding more and more like a conflict or a fork in the road kind of thing. Are…are you…considering leaving me to fend for myself again?”

There was a shake in his voice that made your gut clench and your throat close, momentarily thrown back to the dark corner of the damp hovel you'd called home in Stonewood you used to curl up in when the emotions and loneliness was too much to bear enough to be functional.

…Levi was right. You saw too much of yourself in Emery to be the one to have this conversation with him if you were getting emotional just hearing the fear of abandonment starting to creep into his voice. You didn't think you had it in you to be the kind of firm he needed right now.

“That's entirely up to what happens when we have this conversation, and what comes of it,” you said softly. “But there's not much I can really say before we do, since I don't know what's going to be said or what's going to happen. For now, let's just focus on trying to make sure you're as ready as I can make you for being around a human that smells that good without attacking him. I'd like for you to actually be capable of listening and having a conversation with him, and not in a blood frenzy the whole time.”

Emery seemed to be tuning some shade of green that looked extra sickley in the fire's light. “Is his blood really that tempting?”

“To me, it's the best kind out there. But that may be my relationship with him and how I see him. It might not be so intense for you–hopefully not, anyway–but he still is alluring, even when he's not bleeding, we know from experience with not friendly vampires. Which is why I still want to go over this with you.”

Walls forbid Levi's first impression of you is you trying to rip his throat out in a blood frenzy, even if that's what I've been warning him about since day one. But if you got a whiff of him on the wall that day Maria fell and just didn't know it, and didn't attack him then, maybe we can get by and not have an incident now.

Emery got up, apparently unable to sit still with the mounting nerves as he started to pace around the fire, pulling on his fingers to pop them. Despite the anxiety, he took a few deep breaths to compose himself, trying to calm down and focus on what you were about to tell him. “Okay…Okay…what do I need to do?”

When you got back from your trip to see Emery, it was late evening, the sun starting to turn darker shades of blue with swaths of oranges and reds able to be seen further in the distance towards the false horizon. It made you want to go find a good perch on the walls to watch the sky changing colors, capture the moment in your sketchbook even if the black and white of your drawings couldn’t do the colors justice in your mind. It wasn’t the same as that one time you had sketched the horizon beyond Wall Maria, though. Knowing there was another wall beyond your line of sight made it feel a bit more hollow, though–it didn’t have the same effect of boundless and rich unknown as the horizon beyond Maria.

Besides, there was somewhere else you needed–and wanted–to be, something else you needed–and wanted–to be doing.

So, you turned your gaze away from the colors of the sky as you started to slow your pace to something more human, coming up on the Scout’s headquarters through the forest. There was the sound of ODM gear whirring through the woods, which made you a touch more cautious as you weaved your way through the trees, lest you get in someone’s way, get struck by falling debris, or get seen being a bit too inhuman.

A shift in the wind, however, erased the last concern, as you caught Levi’s scent carried to you on the breeze, prompting you to breathe deep and switch directions. His presence in the woods doing ODM practice answered your question of what time it was, and also gave you a direction to head towards in order to find who you needed in order to finish your day. The two of you needed to talk–about many different things–and after the frustrating interruption this morning and your own inability to stay awake last night ruining the chance of some much needed–uninterrupted–time together earlier, you were hoping to correct that tonight.

You refrained from putting yourself into his path while he was training. Everyone was getting antsy with all the time that you’d spent not going out on expeditions, just waiting for something to change, practicing and drilling but not actually doing anything, needing to burn the energy. Not to mention, with how much of that first stretch of time after the wall fell Levi spent recovering thanks to that incident with the hunters, you were sure he was still in the stage where he appreciated being able to move around and do things again, including the more routine training.

The thought of the hunters had something nag at the back of your mind, a relevant and troublesome little detail that you’d forgotten with how your focus had been elsewhere recently.

Later. You could add that to the list for later–you didn’t want to give Levi the impression that the prep talk with Emery had gone poorly, no need for him to worry, yet–there was enough to worry as it was, and already almost too much to talk about.

You made your way back towards the treeline, but stayed deep enough in the trees that no one by the actual headquarters building would be able to see you. Once you found the spot, you used your ability to jump much higher than normal to make your way up to a high off the ground but sturdy tree branch, sitting gearless atop it and waiting for Levi to come back through once he finished his practice.

You didn’t have anything to do with you, so you simply waited for a while, legs dangling over the edge and kicking slowly as you listened to the sounds of Levi practicing, sometimes far away, and sometimes much closer. The whir from the cables operating, the whoosh of gas every now and then, the sound of his heart beating a bit harder than normal, grunts, the sound of legs, boots, and arms thumping across harder surfaces when he braced or kicked off something. There wasn’t the sound of any blades being unsheathed, or titan dummies swinging through the air, so it really was just him out here right now, practicing the movements on the ODM gear itself. You could envision what he was doing rather clearly in your mind’s eye, the way he twisted and arched through the air, how quickly he was able to weave around the trees with effortless seeming use of the cables–

You were pulled from the images in your mind when you heard him coming closer than he had while practicing, focusing back on the world around as his gear brought him closer to you–not directly to you, he hadn’t spotted you yet, but close.

Sure enough, with your enhanced sight, you spotted him headed towards the treeline off to your left before he saw you, though once you were within visual range, it seemed to only take a few heartbeats for him to spot the movement of your kicking feet and the out-of-place sight of you in uniform but without the gear perched on a tree branch so high above the ground. As soon as he’d processed your presence, he changed course, reaching you in a matter of seconds and coming to a nimble stop on the tree branch beside you.

“How long have you been out here?” he asked, remaining standing even though you had yet to make any move to leave your perch. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, hair a little damp seeming near the temples and nape of his neck, heartbeat still a bit quicker and breaths a bit heavier from pushing himself during his training.

A quick glance towards the sky revealed that while the light hadn’t disappeared entirely, it had gotten significantly darker since you first heard Levi in the woods, and the temperature appeared to be cooling, as well. “Not too long. The sun was already setting by the time I reached the woods.”

“Since you’re taking it easy in a tree branch instead of pacing a hole in my quarters, I’m guessing the talk with the kid went well?”

“More or less,” you admitted, which prompted a raised brow from him, but you waved it off, getting to your feet. “We can talk about that once we’re settled in. I’m assuming you haven’t ate yet, and it’ll get cold soon, so we should probably head inside before trying to talk about anything or we’ll end up here for hours.”

Levi let out a soft exhale, turning on the branch ready to take off again now that you looked like you were ready to get moving, yourself. “You’re always fretting over me,” he grumbled, gaze turned back towards the headquarters.

“Someone should,” you returned, coming over to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and brush your fingers against his hand–you would have given it a squeeze, but they were both still gripping the controls for the ODM. “And I believe I’m perfectly qualified to.”

You only lingered long enough to allow Levi to return the kiss on the cheek with one of his own. It was a swift one, since your own kiss to the cheek had been in passing as you coiled to drop back to the ground, but it still made your cheek warm and your gut squirm, glad the cooling air was able to whip passed your cheeks and help cool them back down as the forest floor rushed towards you in the drop. Up above, you heard Levi’s ODM cables fire and start to draw him to the edge of the forest at an angle to meet you down on the ground where the trees stopped.

If there wasn’t so much you two needed to talk about, and he didn’t need to take care of himself at the moment, and you were a bit more confident about how physical you both were ready to get, you might have been tempted to act on the wild thought to pin him up against a tree for a more heated kiss, but that–what happened in his office this morning, or on the couch the evening before–that was still…new. And was going to take a bit more figuring out–and maybe even a bit of talking–before you’d feel comfortable springing something like that on him.

Though you were certainly starting to think about it. Especially after this morning.

Not wanting to come out of the trees and meet Levi with burning cheeks, you shook the thoughts away, focusing on the more serious topics the two of you needed to discuss, or hell, thinking about what you were going to get from the mess hall for Levi to take instead–or whether the two of you were going to risk getting interrupted again in his quarters or if you should find somewhere else to have your long private talk and…whatever else you two felt like doing once the serious stuff was out of the way.

You hoped it was something similar to this morning…

Focus!

You were glad you were the one that was the vampire with the enhanced hearing when you reached Levi at the forest’s edge, so he couldn’t hear your still-calming heartbeat as you approached. Your hands itched to reach out and twine his into yours now that he wasn’t holding the ODM controls, but you were out on the main grounds now, and would too easily be spotted, so you kept them to yourself. Still, Levi walked closer to you than strictly necessary, and the back of his hand brushed against yours here and there along the way, which was enough for you. You knew it was intentional, and it put the slightest smile on your lips as you walked in comfortable silence to the mess hall.

Levi hadn’t really needed to come down and fill his own plate recently with how on top of things you’d been when it came to bringing him his meals, which meant you two got a few looks from other Scouts when you entered the room together, mostly Levi given the now-rare sighting. You accompanying him and the two of you standing so close was normal whenever the two of you were seen around quarters, so neither of you bothered to take even a half step away.

Though you took extra care not to focus on the chatter of the room around you. If someone was gossiping and theorizing, you didn’t want to know.

“So, where do you want to talk? I know normally it would be in your quarters, but it’s starting to feel like we’re going for a record on how many times we can be interrupted when we’re in there,” you remarked as the two of you accepted the meager rations on your trays. You tried to make yours look different from Levi’s without picking anything he’d rather not eat, and you were painfully aware of the lack of a kettle in the kitchens being heated for what would usually be his black tea now that it had been cut from the budget. You’d have to heat some up yourself once you figured out where you were going to be for the night.

Levi scowled at the mention of the numerous interruptions the two of you had racked up recently, but kept moving down the line.

Neither of you commented on the fact that there was only a quarter of a roll on your trays, now, but you certainly noticed. Already they had cut back to a quarter, when just yesterday you’d been plating half rolls. That had to mean that they were trying to make what they had last longer. What had changed in a day that you didn’t yet know about?

“My quarters are fine–I already talked to Erwin, earlier, so the only people that would be interrupting are people we can ignore or I can tell to fuck off,” he replied, grabbing the utensils he needed at the end of the line and stepping away from the line, you only a few seconds behind him.

You could see the squad sitting at their usual table, especially once Petra waved at you with a slightly brighter smile than normal, despite the obvious and rapid cutbacks on the rations likely glaring at everyone. She was probably happy to see that you and Levi seemed to be on speaking terms again–and keeping to each other’s sides as usual, to boot. You returned the wave, giving a slightly apologetic smile as Levi led your way not to the squad table, but back towards the door. If you were going to give him your share of rations, you couldn’t exactly sit at the table and do it in front of everyone else.

Petra started to look a little put out–you and Levi hadn’t been sitting with the squad as often since the rationing got worse–but you gestured behind Levi’s back, miming with your hand a mouth talking and giving a half shrug, the apologetic smile still in place. Her eyes lit up with understanding and relief, and she gave you a little thumbs up before turning back to the group and talking in an excited tone with the others, who had been watching the little exchange.

Well, if the rest of the squad were under the impression that the two of you were going to have a much needed talk, that might mean that was four more people you didn’t have to worry about interrupting the two of you–and almost all of the most likely candidates to be dropping by Levi’s office, thankfully.

The two of you slipped out of the mess hall without much fuss–Hange started to head your way and try to flag you down, but a few frantic hand gestures for her to stop, don’t, cut it out, shoo, and a handful of thumb jabs towards Levi’s back had her looping around to ambush Miche instead with a shit eating grin that had you convinced you were going to get ambushed by her, later.

Once you were out in the hall, you lengthened your strides just enough to come even with Levi again, resisting the urge to just start shuffling the contents of your tray to his along the way. You also resisted any little touches, since there were a few people that the two of you had passed on your way to the mess hall and continued to see in the hall along the way.

Once you were a few halls from the mess hall, Levi suddenly broke the silence, to your surprise. “Your hand signals could use some work.”

Immediately, your cheeks started to burn as you realized he’d caught you trying to silently signal Hange, or Petra, or both. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Flailing behind my back like that made that pretty clear.”

The sound that came out of you was somewhere between a whine and a huff. “Well…that’s a few more people we don’t have to worry about being interrupted by,” you grumbled. Levi simply rolled his eyes, opening the door to let you both into his quarters without another comment on the matter.

You went right to his desk, happily noting that there wasn’t any paperwork left to do as you set your tray down a bit higher than where he was going to sit so that he could get to it when he was ready. You heard the lock click in the door to ensure you wouldn’t be interrupted before Levi crossed the room, you moving out of the way and over to the side to shimmy his tea stash out of its hiding place and start working on getting tea started for the both of you.

“No white sage,” he warned as you heard the chair scrape across the floor behind you. Your eyebrows rose, and you glanced over your shoulder at him.

“I’m pretty sure I’m set for the next few weeks, you know, I have no intention of biting you any time soon.”

Levi didn’t elaborate further, simply started in on his food and let the request stand, which you complied to, since he had his necklace to at least protect him from any compulsion.

With a small sigh, you pulled out a black tea that didn’t have any white sage mixed into it, silently wishing you had the money for the expensive as hell vanilla right now to add to your own cup as you put a bag each in both cups and set the kettle over the fire. “So, I suppose first thing’s first, how did the talk with Erwin go?”

“He’s not happy.”

“...I expected as much, but are there details in there that I should know about?”

“He’s worried your head’s not in the right place to handle the situation. And while he isn’t worried about the meeting itself, he is concerned about the Military Police and the Garrison turning over the walls looking for the kid. He can’t get anyone on the inside for the investigation, so he’s worried about us being caught in the crossfire. No matter what, this meeting involves ultimatums–either there’s progress made, or we’re cutting the risk.”

“Which is pretty much what you told me last night,” you murmured, turning around to lean against the counter and look at Levi directly while you were waiting for the water to heat.

“What about your talk with the kid–how’d it go?” Levi asked, watching you out of the corner of his eyes.

“I didn’t sugar coat it, so he’s…stressed about it. He’s aware that me continuing to help him is now in question, and he’s nervous about being able to control himself when you come, even with the little coaching I gave him before I left. Which is preferable–I’d rather he be overly cautious about his control than not cautious enough. He wanted a heads up on what kind of questions you were going to have for him. I refrained, since I don’t even know how you want to handle this besides doing it ‘your way’.” Your head tilted slightly to the side as you paused, appraising Levi for a moment. “By the way, are you going to tell me anything about how you're going to handle this, or am I going to have to play it all by ear and figure out on the spot when I should intervene and when you need me to stay back?”

“If it goes well, it'll just be talking, with me in the sunlight. If not, I'll enter the cave. You can cut in if he’s starting to go blood crazy, but otherwise, I need you to trust me and let me handle it.”

Well, that was better than no heads up, you supposed. At least now you knew he was thinking of a more in your face kind of direct approach if necessary, which told you to be ready to act in a split second if things went sideways. Well, more urgently, anyway, if he entered the cave and there wasn't going to be a natural barrier from the sun.

You let out a small sigh, still worried about the whole thing and wanting to fret, wanting to keep Levi far from the vampire that lacked control, but he was right. The situation needed to be handled, and you did trust him–you were just worried about all the ways it could go wrong. Fretting wasn't going to do anything to help, though.

The kettle started to whistle, and you straightened up to fetch it from the fire. “Okay, so Emery is nervous but prepped, Erwin is not happy but allowing what seems to have developed into an abrupt last ditch effort to put Emery on a sustainable course–when's our leave to do this, again? And what's the cover story?” You tacked on, pouring a little water into one cup, then the other, swirling the teabags in the water and watching the color start to turn before filling the rest of his cup, then yours, and letting the tea steep with the occasional stir.

You heard Levi shift behind you–just a little, but enough to catch your attention and make you listen a little harder to whatever he was about to say.

“We have a day to prepare, so we're not leaving suddenly. We have to make an appearance at one of the refugee shelter locations out that way to lend a hand and assess the situation. And we have to be back before the weekend.”

There was a frown on your face with the declaration, head tilting as you figured in your head roughly how long the trip would take by horseback, tried to guesstimate how long the talk with Emery would take, and you had to add in a trip to a refugee camp that would warrant the travel in the more public eye. Take that timeframe over by a day and Erwin hardly left the two of you enough time to catch a couple hours of sleep, daring to be well rested would mean pushing the envelope on when you needed to be back by.

“That doesn't give us much time to do much…why the rush back?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Erwin needs us close, not in another part of the wall.”

At that, you turned more fully to face Levi, studying him sharply after the comment as if you could pry the answers out of his usually so-well-guarded expressions. “Something’s happening with the refugee situation, or the food shortage–or both. Something I’m missing. With rations like this, and Erwin wanting us back as soon as possible to be on hand…what is it?”

“You’ll know soon enough. But for now, I can’t tell you.”

You didn't respond this time, simply took a moment to appraise him.

You couldn’t be in every circle, now, could you? There were going to be things you didn’t know about. So you let go of the thought of pushing for more, especially with the comment you would know what it was soon even if it couldn't come from him.

But now that the topic had been brought up and you were really looking at him, there was a shadow in Levi’s eyes, making them not as bright, not as blue. A small crease between his brows that wasn’t normally there, his shoulders a little higher and pulled in from the tension he was carrying, and a bit more of a downturn to his lips than normal. Not to mention the gloom that seemed to loom over his presence just out of immediate sight. There was something, he’d confirmed it, but he couldn’t tell you. How long had he known, whatever this was? How long had he been lugging it around–and had you missed it because of the distance with your little spat, and your attention being elsewhere, recently?

Your instinct was to go over to him immediately, run your hands over his shoulder, kiss the corners of his lips and the crease between his brows, try to chase some of the shadows away. Restraint was what you chose, instead–just for now. He was still eating, and you had his tea in hand. Not to mention there were still a few more serious topics to bring up. But after…after the serious, that look on his face and whatever was hanging over him you couldn’t know about yet was going to get your undivided attention.

Dropping the topic entirely for now, you came over to gently offer him the teacup, waiting until he'd taken it before you ran the now-free hand over his shoulders and leaned down to kiss his cheek. It was the best you could give him for now while he was finishing his meal before you pulled away, claiming a seat on his couch and starting in on your own cup of tea.

There was a silence after that, one that felt comfortable and content despite the topics the two of you had just been discussing, and the unknown you were aware of but couldn't get answers for. There were a few more serious things you wanted to touch on, but it could wait until he finished his meal and the two of you were more comfortably situated. Especially since what remained mostly had to do with the two of you, specifically, and that didn’t feel like a conversation to be had while you moved about the room or from the other side of a desk like it was Scout business.

Considering how many times you wondered it, you two should probably talk about what exactly the two of you were, but you didn’t think either one of you were prepared to answer that, yet. Everything was too…new, still. There were too many simple things you were figuring out and growing accustomed to, and the brief hiccup where Levi had withdrawn had temporarily put a wrinkle in things that required adjusting all over again while the two of you smoothed things back out.

A bit sooner than you had been expecting, you heard Levi get up from the desk, footsteps making quick work of the space between his desk and the couch before he appeared in your direct line of sight, effectively pulling you out of the contemplative state you’d slowly started to drift into as he dropped onto the couch with a sigh that normal ears wouldn’t have been able to hear. To your surprise, he didn’t pause once he was on the couch, but pivoted and started to lower himself towards you while face up, prompting you to swallow the last bit of tea in your cup quickly so you could set it aside and out of the way, opening your lap up for him to rest his head. Much to your amusement, he almost looked like he was on the brink of pouting, arms folded across his chest as he settled in, a small patch of his cheeks starting to look a little flushed, eyes closed so he didn’t have to see your amusement, and the slightest frown on his face even though he was certainly making himself comfortable. He was still a little tense, like when you’d asked him to do this yesterday evening, but the fact that he was initiating it in the first place was sign enough that he was comfortable with it–though the tension was probably coming from not knowing whether or not you would be comfortable with it right now, or if it was a one time special occasion thing.

You chuckled as he started to settle down with his positioning enough that you could safely put your arms down, one hand instinctively finding its way into his hair to start the gentle threading through his hair you’d been doing yesterday. As soon as you did, you could see the tension starting to drain out of him, even with the chuckle making it clear you found something about this amusing.

“Not so ridiculous anymore, I see,” you teased him gently, earning a muttered, ‘shut up’ from him in response that got another chuckle from you, your smile easy and relaxed as you watched how he reacted to the simple touch. How the eyes squeezed shut softened so it didn’t look forced anymore, simply like he was enjoying it, like he would drift off to sleep if you kept going; how the small frown on his face was starting to go away as well, the corners of his lips smoothing out to more of a neutral expression. The crease between his eyes slowly started to disappear as well, and more of his upper body weight rested against your lap, head tilted back so his face was looking up at you. It also opened his neck up to you enough the marks from your usual feeding could easily be seen, but you were more focused on his facial expressions, the tension slowly bleeding out of him as your fingers gently threaded through his hair, ran from the part in the front back until your fingers were bumping into your thigh, and back.

Your other hand started resting on the back of the couch, but you felt it would be more comfortable resting at your side. However, since Levi was currently stretched out where you would normally rest your hand…

There was a moment of hesitation, only because you still had yet to stumble across what level of intimacy was too far for Levi–or perhaps you were going so slow that the line was naturally moving further and further back before you could even reach it. Still, you lowered your elbow into the gap between the couch and his side, and then very carefully rested your forearm little at a time across his abdomen. You felt a small tremble beneath your arm at the initial contact, then a brief tension that went through his whole body and had you pausing before his continued silence and lack of pulling away made you feel comfortable with finishing laying it along his middle. After a few long moments of simply running your fingers through his hair and letting your arm rest across his middle, Levi’s arms unfolded, and while one arm stayed laying haphazardly across his chest, the other reached down to twine his fingers into yours before resting the joined hands at his side. The warmth from the moment that had been residing in your chest spread to what felt like every inch of you at that, your smile wide and heart fluttering for a moment before it calmed back down at a pace that seemed to match that brief tension flooding back out of Levi.

Not wanting to shatter the gentle moment he’d initiated, especially since he had just started initiating these little intimacies, you didn’t immediately bring up the last few things on your mind. It was tempting to believe this little action of Levi’s answered one of your main questions you wanted to bring up, but you figured you should probably still ask, just to be sure. So far, save Levi shutting you out briefly, you had been damn good at your communication with him–even before this budding more intimate relationship with him. That was not a streak you wanted to break. Communication and trust were two large cornerstones of this relationship, and you weren’t going to skimp anywhere on either value.

So, after relishing in the silent moment long enough you were worried even rarely-sleeps Levi would fall asleep if it went on any longer, you finally spoke up.

“I’m assuming with the way the past twenty-four hours have gone, we are, but I still want to ask just to make sure…we’re okay now, yes?” you asked him quietly, peering down at him and waiting for his reaction.

There was a beat of silence as he considered your question, and then a reassuring squeeze of your hand in answer before he opened his eyes to gaze up at you. “We’re okay,” he confirmed quietly, causing a cool wave of relief to seep through you to hear it voiced out loud.

“Still a shitty situation with the kid, and…” there was a moment of hesitation that you waited patiently during as Levi sought the right words for what he wanted to add. “I’m still worried about the danger it’ll put you in. And with all this shit happening we might need to revisit being reckless. Calling it calculated or taking an opportunity doesn’t change when a move was actually risky or impulsive.”

You felt a touch of shame coloring your cheeks at the comment. You’d defended your choice about helping Emery as calculated and opportunistic, if a bit risky, to Erwin, but Levi knew it was more emotional than that. He knew that back in Sedalia it had been a snap decision based on emotion over logic–impulsive, and you’d doubled down on it and had been trying to just make it work ever since then. The logic had been applied after the fact to try and dig you out of the trouble while carrying Emery out with you.

“I’ll admit that taking on Emery was more of an impulsive thing, and the planning was done on the spot as things unfolded–”

Levi interrupted you before you could get much further. Again, he knew. Starting to say it was possibly more of a formality than a necessity. “Your heart may be in the right place with the kid, but you’ve got to use your head–you can’t do that impulsive shit. That’s how people get killed in this life.”

There was a harder edge in Levi’s eyes as he said it, but beneath it, a flash of something buried deep that was clawing its way to the surface with the topic. You didn’t brush off his attempt to give you words of wisdom–you’d already acknowledged that he had more experience than you in certain areas. Levi wasn’t a fool, and you valued his input. So right now, seeing that something stirring in the depths of his gaze that was riveted on you made you reflective, instead.

How many people had he seen die because of impulsive actions, unnecessarily risky decisions? You knew he was worried about you, but what if you’d been causing more than that, what if you’d been scaring him with some of your actions recently? Maybe all of this was about more than just the danger of the Emery situation: what if he was scared this kind of decision making would bleed into other areas–like out with the Titans–and cost you everything? His early perception that you were nigh invincible when he’d first uncovered what you were had been shattered with recent events, he knew there were risks out there, he knew you could be hurt or killed, you’d told him yourself during that interrogation that the Titans still posed a risk to you in extreme cases or if you got careless or too brash.

The hand that had been running through his hair since he’d laid down in your lap moved so that it could instead rest against his cheek in reassurance. “Levi, listen to me.” You took care to keep your voice soft, but your tone held a firm resolve in it meant to reassure him that you were being serious about what you said, that you weren’t simply giving him platitudes. “I know what I’m doing is risky, like we’ve talked about in the past. I know that this was more of an emotional decision when I resolved to help Emery, but I’ve been doing my best to be smart about this from here on out without having to abandon him. I know there are hunters after him. I know the Garrison has a personal vendetta against him–for good reason. I know the Military Police have gotten involved now. I know going down into the Underground with him is risky to me as well, that it reopens the door to threats that we were trying to shut out. I know that every time I go to visit him, and every time I go out on a hunt with him, I risk being there at a moment he’s caught by any of those three parties. I understand that there is risk to me–and a great deal of it–with the situation as it is right now, and that change needs to happen to lessen that risk if we’re going to get anywhere. And I understand that if Emery isn’t willing to be flexible enough to work with me, to learn what I’m trying to teach him, then it’s not worth the rise in risk and I’ll have to back off and leave him to fend for himself, as much as I don’t want to. I understand that it was an emotional decision I made with heavy risks, and there is a very real possibility that if something doesn't change, the situation will reach a point where I can't help him without doing more harm than good on a larger scale. And I know you and Commander Erwin are of the opinion that I've already reached the point where I should have backed out by now. But right now, as slight of a chance as it's starting to seem, I can still try to help him, if he listens. And as long as there's that chance, I'm going to keep trying to help him.”

As expected, he didn’t seem to be entirely assured, since the risk still existed, but your acknowledgement of the specific risks to you, and the acknowledgement that it could get too dangerous to try to help and you would back off when it did, seemed to put something in his mind at ease, at least, and the hard edge in his gaze was softening again.

“Like I've said…just don't do anything shitbrained. Think next time, don't just jump right to commitment,” he remarked, getting in one last chastisement–hopefully it would be the last one you needed to be on the receiving end of for this topic.

“While we're talking about potential future problems, or at least avoiding them,” you started to say, the statement stopping Levi from relaxing back into the silence again and prompting a raised brow. You traced the outer edge of his lower lip as you considered your phrasing and tried to get him to relax without directly saying it wasn't anything bad you were about to say. Just a little request. The motion partially did its job, as you heard a slight catch in his breath as your hand and arm seemed to tingle at the light motion and the gentle press against the more plump lower lip.

“I'm okay with you needing space to think things through sometimes–I'm used to it by now. And I'm fully ready to give you that space if and when you need it. But next time–and realistically, there will likely be a next time–please don't shut me out like that again? It's miserable for both of us, and not at all productive, it just lets things fester and…and I prefer when we're like this. When we can talk about things. Hell, I'll even take some heated arguments when certain topics come up over a stoic silent treatment.”

Levi's gaze was riveted to you, and you knew that even though the intimate touch was probably distracting, he still listened intently to what you had to say and took it in. “I’ll remember that.”

“I should certainly hope so,” you mused lightly, hand still on his cheek instead of in his hair and starting to lightly stroke along his cheekbone.

“Is there any more depressing shit you want to bring up or are you going to finally kiss me?” Levi asked in response, cocking an eyebrow at you in an almost challenging manner you knew would melt away the moment you started kissing him.

“Depends, are you going to bite me again?”

The challenging air vanished almost instantly, and the light flush that had crept into his cheeks when he first laid down came back a bit stronger at the reminder as he averted his gaze, the hand still twined with yours tightening its grip. “Shut up,” he mumbled, and you couldn’t help the amusement you felt at his embarrassment over something he did twice, and so confidently the second time.

Your fingers lightly traced his jaw, and you managed to keep any laughter in, though you were grinning down at him. “Hey, it’s a legitimate question. It was quite startling, I’ll admit–”

“You wouldn’t shut the fuck up even though Eld was right outside, so I did something,” Levi grumbled, cheeks continuing to flush and squirming slightly on your lap self-conciously.

“And how did that work out for you?”

He frowned, and actually met your gaze again, expression pulling into a scowl whose effect was ruined by the pink cheeks. “You’re the one who moaned, how was I supposed to know you were going to react that damn loudly?” he accused.

“I can think of someone else that moans quite loudly when they’re–”

Pink cheeks quickly turned burning red, and he cut you off before you could finish the sentence, looking away once again and appearing so exasperated and flustered it was a miracle he wasn’t stumbling over his words in his rush to get you to hush. “For fuck’s sake, just say you didn’t like it, you don’t have to tease so much.”

Ah, too far with the teasing, then. Time to reassure and soothe, then, lest he get the wrong impression.

Gently, you tilted his head back in towards you and leaned down to kiss him just above a furrowed eyebrow. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Levi’s gaze snapped back towards you, eyes slightly wider to reflect his surprise, though the blush wasn’t lessening. Your fingers found their way back up into his hair, your motions circular, relaxing, and hopefully reassuring enough to help keep him from tensing back up.

“I liked it. Though maybe not the best move if you’re wanting me to be quiet–hence the teasing. I certainly wouldn’t complain if you bit back more often.”

Levi scowled again, but there wasn’t as much irritation in it this time, and his gaze remained on you. “Asshole. Didn’t have to tease so much.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist, since you interrupted me with your teeth last time.”

His eyes narrowed on you, and you could have sworn you could see him weighing in his mind if he should bite you right now with the attitude you were giving him. The fact it seemed to be more of a motivator than a punishment seemed to win out, and he let it go, reaching out tentatively and with more intensive focus than he probably wanted to admit with his free hand to gently run the back of his fingers under your chin, causing a soft sigh to escape your lips.

Standoffish and crass words juxtaposed with such tender gestures and what seemed like any excuse to be near? Yeah, you were back on good terms again, and any worry that there might be some form of lingering friction because of the Emery situation evaporated from its dark corner in your mind.

“Before we get caught up in the moment, one more thing I wanted to ask–last one, I promise,” you remarked, adding the last part quickly and with a faint smile when you saw exasperation spark in his eyes. “And besides, it’s on topic.”

Gently, your hand wandered once more away from his hair, down his jaw, lightly cupped around the back and side of his neck, moving down towards his collar. “I just thought I’d ask ahead of time, since sometimes things get a bit more…heated, when we have more than a few moments to ourselves. Are you okay with…” It was your turn for your face to burn, doing your best not to let yourself choke on the actual question itself with the nerves squirming in your gut and trying to work its way up to strangle you into awkward silence. “...with me…touching you more?”

Levi took in your flushed face, how it was your turn to stumble over the words with some self consciousness, and took a moment to study you closely before he pressed for a bit of clarification. “...How so?”

“Nothing big, I’m not talking–I just mean…something like…like this,” you remarked tentatively, lowering your eyes to track your own movements as you let your hand dip lower than his shoulders without his prompting for the first time, fingers lightly trailing down the center of his chest until you were just above his navel. Then, your hand flattened and pressed gently against the solid muscle you could feel beneath the fabric of his shirt, slowly running that hand back up before doing a slow sweep over his pectoral, thumb trailing behind and doing light repetitive strokes along the upper curve of the muscle.

You felt a slight quiver beneath your palm when your hand slid down to his navel and back up, could feel his eyes burning into you with their intensity and hear his heart rate pick up, hear the soft and pleased sigh that caught in his throat and he tried to hold as if worried it would break the moment while you came back up and he waited to see what else you might do. He relaxed back into your lap at the touch, head heavier against your thighs.

You assumed, based on the reaction, that was a green signal for you to continue, that he was nothing but welcoming for more touches like this. More intimate, more lingering–nothing too much, yet, but this was okay. Running your hands along his chest to explore and feel above the fabric of his shirt, possibly his back, too, when you had access (unlike right now). Maybe you could get away with resting a hand on his knee under tables from now on, as well.

And maybe, this little bit more would translate to kissing as well.

Your touch lightened, fingers trailing slowly back down the center of his chest. This time you were more confident in the gesture, feeling every dip and crest of the toned muscles beneath from years of fighting and ODM gear.

As your fingers explored new territory much more carefully, you let your gaze drift back up to Levi’s face, catching a glimpse of his eyes half-lidded and appearing a silvery blue in the shadows of the room, gaze currently still locked on your fingers as they trailed along his chest, a slight part in his lips as if that gasp you’d heard him catch and hold was threatening to break through any moment, and you saw the smooth bob of his adam’s apple as he lifted his gaze and caught you watching him. Before either of you could speak and potentially break the moment, you leaned down to finally kiss him again, eager to discover how much deeper it would go now.

There was still the lingering taste of the black tea on his lips, a taste that had become so familiar and so entwined with him that it brought comfort and reassurance once you tasted it. Levi was apparently eagerly awaiting the kiss, because there was no delay in its return. His lips met yours with eagerness, the sigh he'd been holding evaporating into your parted lips as you went deep at first contact. The hand that had been resting under your chin and starting to trail a light line down your throat moved to naturally tangle in your hair, holding you closer to him while his lips hungrily met yours.

Still explorative, you let your tongue swipe briefly along his lower lip when you trapped it in your kiss, causing a shudder to race through his body and a soft moan that disappeared within the next kiss. Each gentle brush of your hand along his chest and abdomen caused the slightest of trembles in him, greater when you traced your fingers along his abdomen, or lightly along the very center of his chest–it took more control than you wanted to admit to resist brushing your fingers along the arch of his pectorals where his nipples would be, feeling like that might be a little much if he ended up being sensitive there for where the two of you were in terms of intimacy right now.

His fingers untwined from yours, and as much as you hated the sudden lack of his hand entwined in yours, it found its place in the small of your back, encouraging you to start shifting position to be closer to him on the couch with how he seemed to be attempting to hold you closer to him. Tentatively, his hand started to travel up your back as you shifted to try and stretch out beside him without taking up his space on the couch, his fingers splayed and carefully exploring the curves as he held you partially pressed against his side and partially atop his chest, his head no longer propped up and now lying against the couch cushion. At least it still gave you a good position to kiss him deeply from, even if the attempt to both squeeze onto the couch without invading each other’s space too much but without breaking the make-out was an awkward angled mess from the waist down you were both attempting to ignore.

Still, you could feel his heart beating in his chest as you allowed him to hold you so close to him, a soft hum building in your chest as you pressed deeper in your kiss, testing to see if he’d let your tongue delve a bit deeper, your teeth trapping one of his lips with a bit more fervor. He was hesitant at first, you could feel the hitch in the flow as he seemed to mentally puzzle out how he felt about it. He allowed it–for now, with hesitance–so you didn’t push it much further for the moment. You were content to enjoy the taste of him, the depth of it, the hunger burning in you that had nothing to do with vampirism with every touch and press, the security and warmth with the way he held you oh-so-close to him, his hand doing a slow map of the curves of your back and sides.

Levi’s confidence in what he was doing was returning again, the hesitance from the depth you brought to the kiss and the new things you’d been slowly trying melting away as he figured out how to meet you in stride with it through a bit of trial and error while letting you lead–not that you had a clearer picture of how this worked. Still, you were pretty sure it was pride you felt sparking inside you alongside the thrill of excitement when you felt Levi’s teeth graze your lips like they had earlier, followed by a quick swipe of his tongue that was almost fast enough to be brushed off as accidental. The fact that he did it a second time was what made it obvious it wasn’t an accident, and a moan escaped your control as his tongue dared to venture as deep as yours had wandered earlier. His hands tightened their grip on you, while yours sought out more of him, one hand tangling in his hair while the other dipped closer to his waist at his side before planting in the couch edge beside him to give you the leverage you needed to try and shift positions slightly.

There was a slight break, a gasp for air from both of you as you hovered more over him, stomach brushing against his, getting ready to swing a leg over to try and shift to straddling him. A shudder went through Levi, and his grip tightened, but this time it was to hold you back and away, just enough that you couldn’t silence him with a kiss and he could look at you, halting the movement before your legs could lock around his waist. His heart was beating faster, and he looked…not panicked, but definitely flustered, and he seemed to struggle to reach for the right words to explain what had just caused the interruption that was the source of the question in your gaze.

“Wait–wait, not yet, none of that–sex–it's–shit, just…” Miraculously, there was only the slightest blush on his cheeks and his ears, but he may have been too pressed to try and explain to be the embarrassed kind of flustered. He struggled with the words, one of your hands resting just above his heart and feeling it continue its racing pace as he fumbled with what he was trying to explain. “Not right now, It’s too–right now, it’s too…much.”

Even though he finally settled on the words, he didn’t at all seem satisfied with how he’d put it, like it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but it was all he could manage in the moment. But you were pretty sure you understood what he was getting at with just this bit, anyway.

You were admittedly a little thrown off by the voicing of the possibility of sex being on the table, even if it was a voicing just to set it aside. You hadn't even thought of it as on the table in the first place, hadn't thought of it as an option yet, and it hadn't been on your mind as you'd been shifting your position to be a bit closer.

Not yet, anyway. And now that he said it, you couldn't help but to think of it. You couldn't help but wonder what he'd look like, mind presenting you with an image pieced together with moments from your kisses and the times you'd fed off him, your imagination filling in the gaps to give you mental imagery of Levi panting, head thrown back against the couch, hair cascading backwards and down to the couch cushion, heartbeat racing in your ears, eyes squeezed closed as they rolled from pleasure, eyebrows arched in a curve akin to his back coming off the couch as an unrestrained moan made it passed his lips–

Fuck.

You hadn't thought of it until he said it, and now your cheeks were burning as you desperately tried to shove the thought out of your head, shutting down the imagined sounds in your ears and trying to snuff out the stray thought of how unrestrained would he be if the two of you weren't pacing yourselves walking a blurry line in regards to intimacy right now that made both of you hold back in different ways.

No, no. You hadn't even been considering it yourself before he mentioned it, he just said he wasn't comfortable with sex yet, so you didn't even want to think about it–especially not right now. It was the first line–temporary or not–Levi had put down between the two of you, and you sure as hell were going to respect it, even if it took a couple seconds to wrestle down the images the mention of the potential future sex with Levi immediately coaxed to mind.

You'd even said yourself before trying this that you weren't thinking of doing anything too much yet. You two…weren't there yet. As much as the thought of Levi in the throes of sex made your heart pound in your ears and a flush of excitement try to flood through your system, sex was not the intention tonight, anyways. You just wanted to test the intimacy behind closed doors between you two a little more, wanted to give both of you time to readjust to each other again considering how fresh and new your resolving the issues with one another was.

Not yet. He was right. Despite the reaction you had to the thought of it, sex was far too much right now. Not yet.

Levi had stilled entirely beside and underneath you, holding his breath and watching every shift of your facial expression as he tried to read how you were reacting to his request, if he needed to keep trying to find the better words for what he wanted, trying to see before you spoke if he'd upset you with his request.

“Okay,” you said simply in response, answering him hopefully before he felt the need to start explaining himself.

Levi’s gaze was trained on yours, searching every flicker of emotion he could see there. He didn't look entirely convinced for some reason. “…It is?”

“Yes, it is, Levi, I promise. I don’t feel like we’re quite there yet, myself,” you responded, and when his expression seemed to turn even more dubious, you expanded a bit more on what you meant. “It certainly feels like we might be, sometimes, but…I’d rather we continue figuring this part out, first, before we try tackling that beast.”

Levi’s gaze was still fixed on you, though the fact he had started to relax once again helped reassure you that he was accepting your explanation. His hand shifted from its position tangled in your hair to instead carefully cup your cheek, thumb stroking along the arch of your cheekbone in slow, repetitive motions. You could have sworn there was a light of…perhaps a touch of amusement in his eyes, and this knowing look to boot that you couldn’t for the life of you understand why it was there.

“...What?” you finally asked after a few moments spent just like that, with him looking at you that way, cupping your cheek, stroking the arch of your cheekbone…

“Your eyes are red,” He responded simply. “Fading, now, but…they were turning red.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the heavy dose of implication in that seemingly innocent comment. That little biological trait you couldn’t shake, at that time as the two of you were discussing sex? Damned vampirism, giving you away like that. He could probably guess pretty easily just where your mind went, and just how deeply those thoughts had been rooted in emotion. It didn’t take much at all to figure out why your eyes had started turning red, and you really hoped he didn’t press on it.

He probably wasn’t going to, given that he was the one to state that it was too early for sex.

The hand removed itself entirely from your cheek, and you started to sit back as Levi shifted to get up.

“You should head back to your room. Since you made it pretty clear we were going to talk, they’re going to ambush you in the morning. You should be in your room, not missing from it.”

He had a point. You hated to go already, but Hange and Petra were almost certainly going to ask how the talk went and if you and Levi were on good speaking terms again as soon as possible. Saying they’d wait until morning may even be the optimistic idea of when they’d come looking for you. If they knew you’d been with Levi ‘making up’ and you were mysteriously not in your room the next morning…

Yes. You needed to head back to your room.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a gentle kiss on the corner of your lips, coaxing you back to the present gently but quickly as Levi spoke again. “You’re pouting like a child–aren’t you sixty something?” he jabbed.

You rolled your eyes at the comment, returning the kiss with one of your own on his cheek. “Technically speaking, though I doubt you want to go over what I think about my age all over again. It’s fine, I’ll head back. We’re going to be spending practically the rest of the week together, anyway.”

“On business,” Levi reminded you. “There won’t be time for much else.”

“I know, but still,” you murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his knee, to try something else that could be taken as some kind of initiation or trying to explore a bit more instead of leaving. Maybe he didn’t mean for you to leave immediately, but you were going to take it as a dismissal. If you didn’t, then you were likely to end up continuing to look for excuses to stay.

Still reluctant, but now resolved enough to move, you got up from your seat on the couch, looking back at Levi briefly. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning tomorrow, yes?”

Levi’s brows rose slightly. “Have I said otherwise?”

Rolling your eyes, you did allow yourself a gentle brush against his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before you started making your way to leave. “Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight,” you heard him answer quietly a few moments before the door shut behind you.

You wished you could linger longer in the moment, but he was right about needing to be in your own room, you didn’t want to risk being caught out of it when everyone knew where you had been the night before.

However, you had the feeling the next few days were going to be…trying. You doubted you’d have much time to even think about anything else once you reached Emery, and who knew what waited for you upon your return that had Erwin giving you such a small window to get this done and return inside.

That little moment on the couch was just going to have to tide you over until the two of you had more than just a few moments to spare, however long that was going to be.

Next Chapter---->

(Strikethrough's couldn't be tagged)

Everything Tags: @antistellxr

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @ayatosmlktea @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds @imaginationmess @wubbawubwub04 @lollobos @pasteldays @itsmeaudriee @macaronnv @tokyo-banana @apuci-kis-szornye @momowantscats @yellowminb @ashikothedog @notgoodforlife @spnwinchestersd @xxdarkdarlingxx @joy-the-reader

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @lady-ragnvindr @subtlepjiminie @queenondeezmatatas @linxiajei17 @levisbebe @toni-jones @pinkberrymilktea @ascybous @emmaandemmel @wolfie3616 @aot-fanatic @jencyib @zombiukas @notgoodforlife @syviis @captainyanag1

34 notes · View notes

mother--of---dragons · 1 year ago

Text

ROBB STARK FINDS YOU IN THE LIBRARY -- ROBB STARK x READER

words : 1k summary : You and Robb rule over the North, and are busy fulfilling your duties most of the day; although you both still manage to make time for each other. a/n : hello reader! this is my first post on tumblr which is kinda crazy considering i've been writing for like 4 years -- so would love to make some mutuals if your wanting to chat. I am absolutely obsessed with game of thrones and cannot get enough of it so need to write little drabbles to help me cope -- although I may continue working on a fic if people enjoy this. anyway, this contains nothing but innocent fluff and cuteness because robb is the cutest character and I just think he would be so loving and sweet. — divider by @saradika-graphics

Reading was one of the only activities that could allow you to fully focus on one thing at once. So when you felt overwhelmed, sad or anxious, you would simply pick up a book and insert yourself into the pages -- imagining you were a completely different person in a completely different situation. You could be anyone you wanted to be, and yet still be able to return to your life in Winterfell.

Robb had always been fascinated by your love for books, as he didn't understand why they had you so encapsulated. He had read plenty of books before -- although the ones he had indulged in weren't exactly the fairy tales you were accustomed to -- and yet had never found any of them particularly interesting. He loved how cute you looked curled up next to a window, head stuck in the pages as you excitedly scanned the ink markings with your lip between your teeth. In fact, the first time he had met you was in Winterfell's library, and he had been absolutely infatuated with you ever since.

Due to your new-found responsibilities as the King in the North's wife, you hadn't been able to dig up much free time in awhile. Fortunately for you, you had finally managed to escape your duties for a few hours, and immediately decided to head to your favourite place. The library. You had already read most of the works of fiction that resided in the castle, although still somehow managed to stumble upon a brand new story in the depths of one of the shelves. Wiping your hand over the front of the book you had just plucked from the planks of wood to remove the thick layer of dust that had formed, you smiled at the enticing cover. The gold text and wispy font immediately getting you excited. You walked over to a window, sitting down on the pillowed seat below before gently opening the book, the spine crunching as it bent for probably the first time in years. The satisfying noise sent tingles through your body, and with that feeling, you began to read.

Robb had been signing, writing, and reading letters all day, and he was tired. He loved being king, but god could it get boring. He put his head in his hands, scratching his beard in thought as he looked down at the hundreds of pieces of paper before him. He had been sat in his chambers by himself all day, and frankly, he was lonely. He missed you, and couldn't help but let a smile creep to his face as the thought of you flooded his mind. It's time for a break, he thought to himself. Dropping his quill, he got up from his chair and put on some extra fabrics, deciding he would go out and look for his wife. He had a strong theory of where you might be, so he left his chambers and started down the hall, heading straight for the library.

You had gone through around seventy pages now, and the sun was beginning to set. You turned your head to look out the window, hypnotised by the bright orange orb descending beneath you. You always thought sunsets to be magical -- not that they only looked it, but that they genuinely were. It was like watching an angel go to sleep. As the warm glow continued to disappear, you stared, completely mesmerised. You closed your book, sliding a small handkerchief in as a bookmark and opted to gaze outside, hand on your chin to rest your head.

Robb approached you slowly, a coy grin on his face as he stood a few feet away and admired you. Your back was turned to him, as you were staring out the window; but even merely seeing that made him giddy.

In your hypnotic state, you suddenly recognized his figure in the reflection of the window. You spun your head around, eyebrows raised instinctively upon seeing your husband.

"Robb." You said in surprise, fixing your improper posture and placing your book neatly in your lap. Robb smiled lovingly at you, eyes right on yours as he went to sit beside you. You moved further to your right, making space for him.

"What book are you reading now, my lady?" He questioned as he sat himself down beside you. You smiled shyly at him, extending the book in your hands so the two of you could read it’s title.

"Tis called 'The Forest of Secrets,'" You answered in a mysterious tone, almost as if the book itself was a secret. "follows the story of a young man who meets a fairy in a forest, where she shows him everything that is magical. I have not read too much yet."

Although Robb gained little delight reading fantasy novels, he enjoyed hearing you enthuse about them. He loved listening to you talk about your interests and hobbies, no matter if he himself liked them also. "Any good?" He queried, frowning in question.

You nodded vigorously, like an excited child. Adjusting in the seat, you leant back on Robb, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, resting one of his hands on your stomach while the other brushed through your hair.

You grinned bashfully as you felt his chest rise and lower as he breathed beneath your head, a sudden realisation coming to mind as your brows furrowed. "I had thought you were busy today?"

"I took a break." He said as he ran his fingers through your soft locks. "I wanted to see you."

"Do you not have a kingdom to rule?"

"The North can wait. My wife comes first." Robb pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, your cheeks instinctively shifting to a light pink hue as you rolled your eyes sarcastically at him. "Now, shall we read your book?"

You bit your lip back, trying to hide the smile that had creeped onto your face. Robb somehow always managed to make time for you, and his extensive efforts only made you fall more and more in love with him. You couldn't have asked for anyone better; so to respect his wishes, you opened your book and obligingly began to read from the page you had left on, the two of you sitting together happily in the castle that you both ruled over.

#robb stark #game of thrones #robb stark x reader #winterfell #drabble #stark #house of the dragon #jon snow #x reader #robb #got

82 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 2 years ago

Text

Her Guardian And His Redemption

Pairing: Bodyguard!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Thoughts, Being Kidnapped, Someone Getting Killed.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: He was supposed to be there to protect her, but he wasn't. And then he made the biggest mistake of his life. How could he fix it?

A/N: This is Part 2 of Her Protector And His Hubris.

Masterlist

Francesca Chambers is not Y/N. It was painfully obvious to Drew as soon as he opened the file about her. Each page details a new fact that tells him he is going to hate working on this assignment. Francesca is the daughter of Senator Chambers and many of these sheets depict her run-ins with the media. One article on a meltdown about not getting the right colour car on her sixteenth birthday. One Reddit thread about a heated argument with someone just trying to do their job. One video of her attacking her friend because they were wearing the same outfit. He didn’t need to do any more research on her to know she was going to be a handful. She was nothing like Y/N and everything like his previous clients. Every single week there was a new party. A new incident. A new thing he had to cover up so he didn’t get in trouble with the senator. To make matters worse, Francesca seems to think that he should be completely infatuated with him because she is God’s gift to the world.

“Drewwww, I need your help,” she drawls out from the bathroom. He sighs and puts his book down. The paperback copy of East of Eden is worn out. The spine is cracking because of how many times he has read it and the cover is missing the corner, lost a long time ago. It is not as nice as the copy Y/N gave him, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it. He knew that every time he looked at it, it would remind him of the danger he put his love in. The cushion of the chair creaks under his weight as he rises from the chair. He makes his way upstairs and stands outside of the door. He wraps his knuckles against the dark wood, “What’s wrong?” “I need you to come inside,” she pleads.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate if I do so.”

“Please, Drew. It’s important. It is a matter of my safety.”

Knowing it could spell out a disaster if he doesn’t check on her safety after that, he enters her bedroom and then the bathroom. He finds her in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. “I need you to get me a towel,” she orders with a smile. He looks at her with tight lips, “That doesn’t concern your safety.” “Yes, it does! I could slip while going to get it,” she argues, batting her eyelashes at him. He doesn’t argue; it would go nowhere. He gets the towel for her, throwing it on the toilet before storming off to his room. This isn’t the first time she’ll pull this type of shit and it won’t be the last.

———

Drew would never admit that his feet are aching. He should be used to this much standing by now. Yet, every time he goes shopping with Francesca, time seems to slow down, causing the blood to pool his feet. He isn’t one to be bashful and he isn’t with Y/N, but without Y/N around, he doesn’t know where to look. Especially because of the store they are in right now. The lacey materials all around the store fill his imagination with thoughts of her. Every garment he sees, he pictures her and all the naughty things he wants to do to her. “I want to try these on,” he overhears Francesca's demand to the sales associate. The other woman puts on a fake grin, “Of course, Miss. All of our changing rooms are currently in use at the moment, but I could make sure you get the next available one. Do you want to keep browsing and I’ll come to get you when it is ready?” Francescar’s eyes narrow and her lips pucker. Drew prepares himself for the hail storm that is about to occur, pretending to survey the store for threats. Although, he probably entered the store with the biggest one. “Excuse me! Do you know who I am? My father is a senator and one for call to him can have you fired,” she screeches, pointing an accusing finger at the employee.

The blood drains from the associate's face, “I’ll see what I can do.” “Good,” his client’s words chase after the scurrying worker. “Can you believe some people?” she mumbles under her breath. Drew gives her a disapproving look, “You were rude to her.” “No, I wasn’t. I was just reminding her of her place,” she retorts. He rolls his eyes, nothing can get through to her. They are soon rushed to the changing rooms and Drew stands at the entrance. Francesca goes into the changing room, coming back out soon after in the first lingerie set. It’s a pastel green set that goes with her olive eyes. Drew can see her vying for her attention out of the corner of his eyes, yet his focus is on something outside of the changing room. It is a pastel pink slip dress. Flower lace covers the breasts and also forms two slits at the bottom of her dress on the sides.

An image pops into his mind. The woman he loves standing in a doorway adorned by pink and flowers. He waits patiently for her to saunter over to him with her arms swinging at her side. She would straddle his hips, sitting back on his thighs. Her finger would raise and curl to beckon him forward. His hands find her thighs, pressing her closer to his crotch. He brings his lips closer to her and captures the beautiful petals. “I love you,” he promises to her. “Drew, you aren’t looking at me.” Francesca snaps him out of his fantasy. Irritation seeps out of him, “That’s because my job is to identify threats in our environment and I can’t do that if I’m looking at you.” He doesn’t glance over at her; instead, he continues to search the store for possible threats. She huffs at the lack of attention, “You are such a buzzkill.” She goes back into the changing room, leaving him to wish he could really say those things to his precious.

———

James Notting isn’t Drew. It was obvious to Y/N that he was a good bodyguard. Except he would never make her feel the way that Drew can make her feel. She knows she is safe with James; it doesn’t feel the same way as when she is with Drew. Drew’s protection made her feel warm. With Drew, it didn’t feel like an obligation. It feels like his life mission to keep her safe. He wasn’t doing it for the money. He was doing it because he truly cared for her on a personal level. She doesn’t blame James for not being Drew; she has a hole inside of her heart James can’t fill. She finishes packing up her work to bring home and heads to the elevator with James following behind her. He opens the car door for her once they get to her car. As she ducks to get into the car, she has to move her right shoulder, which causes an ache to shoot through it. Her hand reaches for her healing wound and this only causes more pain. “Are you okay?” James worries. She nods and continues to sit in her seat.

The car ride to her apartment is quiet. The only sound is the music playing from her playlist. When they get home, Alice is already making dinner in the kitchen. The aroma of the frying chicken instantly hit her nose. She greets Alice with a smile and makes her way into her office to put her work away. She is about to head back downstairs to talk to Alice when a cardboard box catches her eye. She should’ve brought that to the security firm a long time ago. Y/N holds in a breath as her feet drag across the hardwood floor towards it. Her hands shake while reaching for the lid to take it off.

Versace and cigarettes. It surrounds her in its embrace. She immediately regrets opening it and wants to put the lid back on; nevertheless, the items inside draw her in like a siren song. She picks up the item on top. The custom copy of East of Eden she had made for him. Realizing he left it behind hurt her more than she could ever know. She was so proud of herself for thinking of the gift. Every time she found him reading it, a small spark would shock through her heart. To her, the book was a symbol of her love for him and he left it behind as he left her. The next thing she finds is his WCU shirt. He probably forgot it was in her drawers because it became her sleep shirt after the first night they made love. She used to make him wear it for a day whenever it would stop smelling like him, making him laugh with the way she would beg him to put it on right at that second. A coil wraps around her heart and tightens until it squeezes tears out of her. She brings it to her nose like she did on that fateful night, breathing in all the memories she had with him. The late mornings in bed she would spend with that shirt on. He would play with the hem of it while he guided her cooking from over her shoulder. The way he would go crazy to bring her pleasure with it on.

A polaroid is the final thing she can bring herself to pick out. The sunlight from the apartment window gave her an ethereal look. She was focused on the art book in front of her, sketching an outfit for her upcoming fashion show. He brought the Polaroid camera to his eyes and called out her nickname. It caused a smile to bloom across her, which was the moment he captured forever. The photo was printed out and he wrote My Precious in the blank area with a heart at the end. She watched as he put the photo in his wallet. “So I can have you wherever I go,” he said to her, kissing the photo and then her. Of course, like it always did, the kiss turned into passionate sex. Y/N guesses he doesn’t want her wherever he is now.

———

After dinner, Y/N goes into her study to finish up her work. Her eyes double-check the guest list for her fast-approaching event. “James, I have the list for you to look over,” she informs the man somewhere in the apartment. He stoically enters the office and takes the list from her. He closes the door behind him, walking to his room. The sofa chair creaks as he sits to look over the names. He is looking over the possible guests to get a sense of what to expect and to flag any potential threats that she needs to change out. Most of the people are her usual ones until he meets one that causes him to freeze. Francesca Chambers. Shit. She probably invited the senator’s daughter because the girl is known to throw tantrums when not invited to exclusive events. Y/N never would have done it if she knew Drew was Ms. Chambers’ bodyguard. James could tell her that fact, but he won’t. Drew made a mistake and James wants to help him fix it.

———

When the invitation came in the mail, Drew started to buzz with anticipation of seeing her again. He has seen her on social media, but it could never be the same as seeing her in person. It could never beat being able to reach out and feel her warm, smooth skin. Tonight’s event is raising money for the foster system. It would go towards group housing for kids who can’t stay in a foster home, food, and items. Another very important fact that Y/N wants to emphasize is getting children in the foster care system actual bags for their things. He remembers the day she had decided this would be her next fashion event all those months ago. She had watched an Instagram reel of a foster mother and one of the details that stood out was the fact that the children the mother was newly fostering had their personal belongings in a garbage bag. Her heart broke for the children who were already going through a hard time. She wanted to give them the dignity of their stuff being regarded as special. He had to comfort her as she cried for the kids in the foster system. He loves that she always brings her plans into reality.

During the fashion show, he stands at the back of the room, searching for anyone he needs to neutralize. Every outfit is absolutely stunning and pride fills him up. He wishes he could’ve been there to watch her create such beauties. The end of the show is nearing when Francesca has to go to the bathroom. Like a good bodyguard, he follows her and waits outside of the room. He can still hear the noises coming from down the hall. His foot impatiently taps against the floor. Francesca is taking forever. The music starts to fade out and is replaced by a familiar voice. “Hello, thank you for coming to support the event. There are around three hundred ninety-one thousand children in the foster care system. Now, that may not seem like a lot to you. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve better…”

Her voice starts to fade from his ears as he begs the universe to make his client leave the bathroom so that they can make it back for the end of Y/N’s speech. The universe doesn’t answer. Instead, Francesca takes ten more minutes in the bathroom and he discreetly rushes her back to where everyone is. It was too late. No one stands on the stage anymore and everyone is already moving on to where the cocktail party is being held. Francesca picks up her purse from her chair and they head over to the next room. His eyes scan the room, looking for the one person who could make him feel at home even though he is so far from where he grew up. He had been trained for this moment, so he could easily find her. He is too far away to hear the laughter that falls from her lips. Her head is thrown back in delight and he desires to be by her side, whispering how magnificent she has done. How noble this event is. How proud her mother would be of her. He knows those are the words she is dying to hear. Fear floods through him. There are so many people in this room, right now. And while he does trust James to protect his precious, big events like these can be hard to navigate with no help.

Francesca hates charity. Why should she care about people below her? The only reason she is at this event is because she has to see the girl, who has such a strong hold on Drew. No matter how stupid Drew thinks she is, she knows he is in love with Y/N Y/L/N. She has seen the articles around the pair and Francesca wants that love for herself. Even now, she can see the way he looks out for Y/N and jealousy toils in her stomach. She needs his attention on her. She struts over to him and places her hand on his chest. “I really like this suit on you, Drew. You fill it out amazingly,” she flirts, running her hand up and down his pectoral muscle. To her surprise, he doesn’t shove her hands off of her. She takes this as an invitation to continue even if his awareness isn’t on her. Satisfaction comes to her when she catches Y/N’s envious gaze.

How dare he? Y/N and Drew had to keep their relationship a secret, yet it was okay for him to be public about his relationship with a senator’s child. Francesca is a more public figure than Y/N. It made no sense. They both had agreed to keep them on the down low, so she doesn’t understand why this bothers her. Francesca leans in to whisper something in Drew’s ears and he doesn’t react. Y/N is familiar with Drew’s composed demeanour. What kills her even more? Drew is letting Francesca touch him at her event. He broke her heart and now, he was breaking it all over again by flaunting his relationship with another girl. He can’t be clueless about who is hosting the show. Y/N never thought that Drew would go for someone so spoiled and rude. Maybe she doesn’t know him at all. She turns back to Jackie and distracts herself with the other woman’s story about a fashion malfunction.

Drew hates the feel of Francesca’s hands on him; however, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Y/N is safe. That her surroundings aren’t putting her in danger. Like he should’ve done the last time he worked for her. His vision falls on her again. This time, he examines her in full glory. Her red dress helps her stand out against the crowd. It only has one strap that rests on the side of her left shoulder. This leaves the still-healing bullet wound out for anyone to see. The skin where the scar is is taught, puckering in redness. He hopes she is taking care of it and that it is healing fully. If his self-confidence didn’t get in his way, then he would’ve been there to help her do all that stuff. He can make amend with that part of himself by keeping her safe tonight. He spends the rest of the night ignoring his job and fulfilling his life mission.

———

She gets home around one in the morning. Her feet aching from the night spent in heels and her hair giving her a headache from how tight it is. She stumbles to her bedroom, ridding herself of her clothes. She turns on the shower and gets to work on taking her hair down. Once steam starts to fill the room, she checks the temperature of the water to find it is perfect. The warmth of the water causes her to let her emotions out. She can’t distinguish between her tears and the water from the shower head. It makes no difference to her. Memories from the night pass through her brain. The way Francesca would cling to Drew’s suit. The way he wouldn’t even look in her direction. The way that watching him with another girl made her feel like she lost him all over again. To make it worse, every single moment she had with him made an appearance. It feels like every single emotion she has been trying to avoid comes crashing down on her at once.

Her shower ends about half an hour later and she may be tired, except she needs to complete her daily ritual. She gets her ice cream out of the freezer and plops down on the couch. The Office’s theme song starts to play on her TV. The ice cream helps fill the ache in her heart and lulls her to sleep, causing the ice cream to melt as she slumbers.

———

It has been about a month since Y/N’s last event and the exes haven’t seen each other since. In that month, Drew realized he lost his social security card. He couldn’t get a new one yet because his birth certificate was missing too. His brain wracks through the last time he remembers seeing it and bites his lip when he realizes where it is. He left it in Y/N’s filing cabinet. She had insisted he put all his important documents there for safekeeping. His social security card must be there too. This is how he finds himself waiting at the concierge desk of her building. He no longer had access to her apartment without going through security protocols. “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. There is a Mr. Starkey here. He says that he needs to retrieve a birth certificate and social security card from your residence,” he listens to the concierge call Y/N. The man behind the desk places the phone on the receiver and turns to Drew, “She says you can go up.”

He listens to the elevator music, tugging on his flannel’s sleeves with nerves. He doesn’t know what to expect with being so close to her again. The front door is already open once he gets to her floor. His feet glide against the tile of the floor, scarping a little against it. Y/N is waiting for him at the door. “Where are the documents?” she asks. He gives her a soft smile, “I forgot them in your filing cabinet.” Her slippered feet slap against the hardwood floor as she walks to her home office. Drew removes his shoes and follows her. He catches up to her to see she is already getting out his files from the cabinet. He holds his hand out to take them, only for her to throw them carelessly onto her desk. She doesn’t wait for him to take it for her to quickly leave her office.

He runs after her, not ready to let this conversation come to an end. “Your charity event last month was amazing,” he applauds. She doesn’t look over her shoulder whilst she boils some water for tea, “Really? I didn’t think you had noticed with Ms. Chambers on your arm.” “Am I detecting jealousy?” he kids, hoping it would relieve some of her tension. “Jealous of Francesca Chambers?” Y/N laughs. “Why? Because she gets my sloppy leftovers. Because she is dating someone who promised to protect me, but is the reason why I got shot.” It was cruel to use Drew’s lowest point in life and to pit it against him. She doesn’t care. She needs him to hurt more than she does right now. She can’t stand to be in his presence. Drew’s heart bleeds with pain and it takes everything in him not to start crying at that instant. His insecurity starts to make itself known again. The constant belief of being at fault for his precious almost dying plagues his mind. He deserves this pain. It’s only half of what he deserves. “I never wanted you to get hurt. You know that right?” he justifies, stepping forward only for her to step back.

“Well, I did get hurt, Drew. You couldn’t protect me and I almost died. It was all your fault,” she screams. “Leave. I want you to go, now!” He tries to argue. “Precious, please. I need to hear you say that you know I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he pleads. No matter how irrational, he needs confirmation that she trusts him. That she did believe he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. She needs his anguish to subdue hers. “Please, Precious. Tell me that you believe me.” She breathes out a low chuckle, “Why would I say that? It. Was. Your. Fault.” Words can’t explain the feeling in his heart. The acid of her word burns his heart so it disintegrates. The one thing left behind is the carving of her name, waiting to be filled by her love again.

———

There were three places where James didn’t need to follow Y/N to every room she went. Her apartment. Her father’s house. And her office. At her apartment and dad’s place, James needed to remain on the premises and ready to be at her side. In her office, he could remain in front of her office as long as he checked in with her every hour. An hour isn’t very long; however, it is long enough for Y/N to disappear. “I’m just going to meeting room five-sixty. It’s supposed to be a two-hour meeting,” she fills him in. He bobs his head, “Got it. I’ll check in on you in an hour.” With her notebooks and laptop in her arms, she heads toward the elevator and presses the down button. Being on the twentieth floor meant that she had a long wait down to the fifth floor. On her ride down, people went on and off without her attention because she was absorbed by her phone. She should’ve been watching her environment. Drew used to drill into her brain how important it was to do so if she was alone. It must have slipped her mind.

By the time an unsettling feeling overcame her, it was too late. Her eyes glance up from her phone and she twists to the other person in the elevator. Ahead of her recognition of the figure beside her, a white cloth smothers her mouth and nose, causing her to inhale the fumes. It has a hint of sweetness combined with the familiar scent of nail polish remover. Her orbits start to droop and she is pulled into unconsciousness.

———

She wakes up cuffed to a chair. Her hands and feet are both restrained and she tries to break the chair. A shooting pain goes up her butt while the sound of metal hitting concrete reverberates through the cold cement room. Shit, it’s a metal chair. She doesn’t bother to shriek for help. There is no point in wasting her energy. She tries to think of how to dislocate her thumb to escape the cuffs. It doesn’t come to her. The door in front of her opens with a squeal and her kidnapper makes herself known. Sienna Cox is a carbon copy of her brother. Y/N recognizes Sienna from the pictures Sean showed her during their three dates. The dangerous woman approaches Y/N with a knife in her hand. She circles the chair, letting metal glide against metal. Y/N flinches as the sharp point greets her soft skin. “You are the reason my brother is in jail,” Sienna states, hate dripping from each word. Y/N is never one to back down, “Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s because your brother tried to kill my then-boyfriend, which got me shot. Your brother almost killed me.”

Sienna’s hand harshly tugs back Y/N’s head and the point of the knife connects with her neck. Y/N tries to remove Sienna’s hold, which produces a crimson knick on the side of her neck. “No, my brother is in jail because you had to choose a low-life bodyguard over him,” she growls. Y/N provokes Sienna more, “Hmm, nope. Your brother being an ass and delusional is the reason why he is in jail.” “Ugh, shut up,” Sienna yells, pulling pain from the incapacitated girl by slashing her forearm. Blood oozes from the cut and she can tell it is going to need stitches. She cries out in pain, starting to truly feel her life is in danger. Earlier, she didn’t think Sienna was capable of hurting her. How could she be so stupid?

———

Drew previously thought the day Y/N got shot was the most terrible day of his life. He was wrong. The ringing of his phone stops him from doing his job. He should be watching Francesca at the mall. The phone call prohibits him from doing it. The sole thing more important than James’ call would be Y/N’s. “She has been taken.” No greetings. No pleasantries. No small talk. Those didn’t matter though. Y/N was in danger. Drew doesn’t think about his client and runs to the car. “I want you to pull all the security footage from wherever you are. Comb it for the last seen citing of her,” he instructs. “Get background checks on everyone, and I mean everyone, who has been in the same vicinity as the place where she last was seen in within the last thirty minutes of her being there. Where are you?”

“Her office. She went down to the fifth floor for her meeting. She never got there.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Start with the hallway footage for both the twentieth and fifth floors as well as the elevators. Have a secondary team look through all other footage.”

“Got it.”

He blows through every single stoplight. He’ll deal with this later. James meets Drew at the door and gives him an update on what they found so far. “We know she was taken from the elevator, except we can’t identify the person who took her because a hat is obstructing her face,” James notifies. Drew looks shocked, “How do you know it was a female?” All the women, who don’t like Y/N, never registered as a peril to him. They weren’t the type to get their hands dirty with physical harm. “Height and body shape. We are going through the women who checked in to match outfits with the pictures they took when they checked in,” James clarifies. His brain processes everything, “You probably aren’t going to find her at the check-in. Get the tech geeks to program the computers to extract all the footage with similar clothes to the suspect. I’ll go through all of it myself. I want it done in the next five minutes.”

Y/N’s office is eerily cold without her brilliant smile to light it up. His hand traces against the glass desk's smooth surface. He should’ve been here to stop her from being taken. It’s happening all over again. This could be his chance. He could halt her from being hurt. From nearing the brink of death again. This time, he is going to be there to be the one to protect her. His vows to himself are interrupted by James. “They got what you want.” Drew jogs after James to the emergency base camp for the search. “Show me what you got,” he orders. He inspects the screens simultaneously and finds what he needs. He knows her from the background research he did on her brother. Sienna Cox.

———

Honestly, Y/N would’ve done anything to get away from Sienna. Her villain monologue is a horrible torture method. At least she is too distracted to use the knife more on Y/N. “And when I visit him in jail, they take my phone away. Do you know how hard it is to not be able to use my phone for an hour?” Sienna complains, twirling the knife in her hand. Y/N fights the urge to make a snarky remark. The ruckus from upstairs freezes both girls. “Ugh, what could that be?” Sienna groans, leaving the room.

Drew wanted Sienna to know they were there. It would make it more fun for him and the group. The narrow hallway means Y/N can merely be in one direction. I’m coming for you, Precious. He thinks to himself. Sienna rounds the corner of the doorway and halts at the guns trained on her. She changes course back to where she came from. The rescue team runs after her to find her with a knife against Y/N’s neck. “Take one more step and this Bitch gets a new necklace. A deadly one,” Sienna warns, digging the knife in harder. A sob racks through Y/N’s body until she spots Drew in front of her. A silent connection transcends them with their eyes locked on each other. She didn’t mean those words and she trusts him. On the way over here, Drew found out everything about Sean’s sister and what buttons of hers to push. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know that James over here loves your podcast,” Drew plays into her ego. He discovered if there was one thing Sienna loved more than her brother, it was herself.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t buy his bait and the knife bites more into Y/N’s neck so that blood flourishes around it. Y/N whimpers at the new pressure on her. “You think that you can flatter me into letting your precious Y/N go? Well, you can’t! You guys are the reason why my brother is in jail and I’m going to stop her from testifying against him,” Sienna screeches. Her arm raises in the air with the knife, ready to bring it back down into Y/N. Drew has killed before, but this is personal. He can’t let fear come in the way of what he has to do and he prays that Y/N has the sense to stay still. His gun aligns with Sienna’s head, taking the shot. A coined-size hole punctures her head and blood spews out of the wound. Y/N shouts as red rain showers her. “Get me out of here, please,” she implores, struggling against her restraints. Drew motions with his head to tell James to take care of Sienna whilst he helps Y/N. He hurries towards her, pulling out a tissue from his pocket.

One hand smoothes back her hair and the other wipes the blood off with the tissue. “Drew, you’re here,” she sobs out, reaching for him with her seized hands. Red swelts are starting to form around her wrist and Drew wishes he could kill Sienna a second time. He gently pushes her hand against the metal armrests, “Of course, I am, Precious. But I need you to give me a second, okay? I’m going to get bolt cutters to get you out of here.” Her pleas end his movement. “Don’t leave me, please. I don’t want to be alone.” He nods at her need and wraps his arms around her shoulder. His lips press against her temple, “Never. I’ll never leave you.” He calls out for some bolt cutters and a few minutes later he is given some. “Okay, Precious. I’m going to cut the cuffs off with these. It might be a little loud,” he briefs her. He snips the bracelets around her wrists and ankles. She is finally able to move freely, bringing Drew as close as possible to her. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to die,” she confesses, gripping to him like he is a life raft. He flattens her hair some more, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Y/N,” a familiar voice hails. She untangles herself from Drew’s hold, tearing his heart apart at the loss of contact. Her father grasps her in his arms. The father-daughter duo cling to each other, weeping at the fear of her being lost. Drew did what he came to do and it seems like he isn’t needed anymore. With his vision trained on the pair, he exits the damp cellar and goes home.

———

Saving her proved to him how much of a mistake breaking up with her in the first place was. Simply apologizing to her isn’t what she deserves for what he did. He could make a big grand gesture to show how wrong he was. Pay for a skywriter. Organize a flash mob at her favourite places. Rent a billboard at Time Square. Those weren’t right for Y/N though. They weren’t personal to her; nonetheless, Drew knew the perfect thing for her.

———

It’s been a week since Y/N was held captive for about three hours. She has already found a therapist, who has been helping her through her trauma. One thing has been killing her since that day and it’s the fact that she didn’t get to say thank you to Drew for saving her. She was horrid to him when he came to get his documents and she completely picked at his insecurities. Even with her behaviour towards him, he was there for her in her greatest moment of need. To add the cherry on top of the cake, he quit his job at the security agency because of her. He was going to get a suspension for leaving Francesca at the mall, so he decided to quit instead. James reassured her that Drew had enough money saved up to be out of work for at least ten years, which eased some of her worries. She glances at James standing behind her and she brings her hand up to knock on the door.

Drew opens the door with a measuring tape around his neck. A dazzling smile crosses her face and her eyebrows form a hairy caterpillar. “Precious, are you okay?” he frets, examining every inch of her to make sure she has no additional injuries. She nods and spots the sewing machine behind him on his table. The sage green fabric is snagged between the sewing needle and the base of the machine. She shakes out of her confusion to verbally answer him, “Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came to say thank you. You know… for last week. You don’t know how much it meant for me that you were there.” She fiddles with her fingers and his hand cups his neck as he rubs it. “You don’t have to thank me, Precious. I know I hurt you, but I will always be there to save you. I’m glad you are safe,” he appeases. She disagrees, “No, I was so rude to you. You didn’t deserve it. I hurt you and you put it aside to help me, like what I should’ve done that day.” He doesn’t need her to tell him what day she is talking about. He already knows.

Silence overcomes the couple and Y/N is again drawn to the equipment behind him. Her finger points at everything, “What’s all of this?” “Oh, um,” the hand on his neck continues its friction of the skin. “I’m trying to sew you a jacket.” One corner of her mouth raises, “You are making me a jacket?”

“Yeah… I made a mistake and I needed to show you how much I love you, so I wanted to make you a jacket that says, Precious.”

Her heart skips a beat and the idea of him learning to sew just for her makes her feel honoured. “That’s really sweet, Drew.”

“Can I tell you something?” he asks. This is his opportunity to tell her who she is to him. Her head hinges up and down. His hand laces with hers and he pulls her into this apartment. He closes the door, “I called you precious because even before we started dating, I knew you would be a treasure to me. It was an instant connection for me and I was a fool to have let you go. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me now. I just need you to know all this.” Her hand reaches up to his chest, grazing it softly with her warmth. “You broke up with me and I didn’t think I could ever forgive you. But you were there when I needed you and with the jacket, I can see how remorseful you are about the decision you made. I’ve made some poor choices too. And if you can forgive me too, then I think we both deserve a second chance,” she admits, not being able to meet his eyes. His finger raises her chin, “I will always forgive you because there is no one else in this world that I was meant to protect more than you. A second chance is all we are going to need. I’m never letting you go.” She jumps into his hold, smushing her lips onto his. His hands grip her thighs to keep her steady and his tongue enters her mouth.

Air eventually needs to enter their lungs, so they break apart with their foreheads together. He sneaks a peek at the fabric on the table and he sighs. “I know I’m supposed to be making it for you, but I’m going to need your help with the jacket. I screwed up somewhere and I have no idea how to fix it,” he fesses up. She giggles, “I can do that, except not right now. There is something else we need to be doing other than sewing.” He grins at the way her eyebrows move and he carries her to his bedroom.

A few months ago, Drew had made the biggest regret of his life. All he saw was his faults and it led him to that decision. Thankfully, the universe saw his pain and decided to help him out. It gave him a chance to prove to himself he was worthy. It gave him his redemption.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @f4ll-for-you @mellillasstuff @jjsmarijuana @thelomlisrafecameron @crlsummer @rubixgsworld

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x y/n #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff #rafe #bodyguard!drew #bodyguard!drew starkey

278 notes · View notes

countrymusiclover · 1 year ago

Text

3 - Day with Aemond

Part 4

A Wolf Among Dragons

Tag list ( just ask to be added ) @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea @immyowndefender @iamavailablesstuff

“I am going to miss you, dear daughter.” My father said weakly laying in his bed in his chambers at the very end of his illness that had fallen to him.

He had declared that I would be wed off to the king's brother to further our alliance with the South since me and my brothers were taught to never forget the oaths we had sworn to one another. “I don’t want to leave you, father. Not if this may be the last time I see you.”

“Stark’s don’t forget their oaths, daughter. We must keep our word even if those in the South may not do the same.” He declares to me while holding onto my hand that was tightly squeezing his.

Sniffing through tears I didn’t want to leave for a city I had never been to. Winterfell was my home. I didn’t want to be trapped inside a castle for the rest of my life. “I’m well aware father but - what if they change who I am? What if I no longer act like a Stark?”

“Stark’s don’t go down without a fight. They won’t destroy who you were raised to be. You will always be a Stark of Winterfell just like our words will always reign true.” My father Rickon coughed into his sleeve keeping a brave face when he spoke so strongly to me.

I recited our family words like it was a prayer. “Winter is Coming.”

“And we must protect ourselves. You must protect yourself when in their family. I won’t be there to protect you anymore so you must find a way to protect yourself.”

“I love you, father.” Kissing my fathers forehead I heard the chamber door creaking open meaning it was time for me to go to my new home and be wed to a dragon man. I wouldn’t let Kings Landing break me if I had anything to do about it.

Sitting underneath one of the Godswood trees simply reading a book quietly to myself. Flipping the page over I didn’t even notice someone walking up to me so ingrained in mh reading till the person spoke up. “Fancy meeting you here, Lehna.”

“My prince - uh Aemond forgive me. I wouldn’t have imagined you ever taking a stroll in these woods.” I admitted clearing my throat remembering the arrangement we had made about simply addressing each other by their first name with no titles being used.

He teased me with a smirk on his face. “Are you saying a prince cannot have other interests? That we can only be interested in swords and our next fight rather than enjoying a stroll through the trees.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, my prince. In my experience most men, including my lord husband, don't care much for the scenery.”

Aemond nodded, putting his arms behind his back. “Normally I don’t stroll through the gardens but I thought it would be a good change after sparring in the courtyard. From our conversation the other day with your daughter I have already noted that not too many ladies of the court carry a sword so it seems we’re both even when it comes to not following society's rules.”

Sending him a genuine smile I met his gaze. “I suppose you’re right about that.”

“What are you reading there?” His one good eye not covered with a black eye patch shifting downward to the open book seated in my lap.

“Princess Nymeria led her Rhoynar across the Narrow Sea on 10,000 ships to flee their Valyrian pursuers. She took Lord Mors Martell of Dorne to husband and burnt her own fleet off Sunspear to show her people that they were finished running.”

It was almost hard to catch whenever the prince was actually happy. He was always so reserved and kept a serious composure about himself to act like he felt absolutely nothing. Until this very moment that is when I saw a huge grin cross his features. “The Targaryen histories. What made you want to learn about my family history?”

“You wanted to know about my family. I figured I should do the same since I'm already wed into the Targaryen family. I even thought about trying to teach myself High Valyrian given the fact that Daemon hasn't yet.”

The dragon prince tilted his head. “What has he taught you then?”

“Perfected my ability to use a sword and not ride a horse side saddle like we're taught.” An idea popped inside my head thinking it would be fun to challenge him a little. “Have you ever rode a horse side saddle?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Would you do it if I dared you?”

He was clearly taken back by my question. “What are you asking me, Lady Lehna?”

“I propose we dare one another and whoever wins the most turns gets to pick what the loser has to do with them. What do you say?” I held up my right hand towards the prince.

He stepped closer, shaking my hand in his firmly. “Deal, lady Stark.”

We left the gardens and made our way through the keep until we ended up first in the kitchen. One of the kitchen workers brought us some hard ale in two big goblets before leaving me and the prince alone. Aemond reached for his cup being the first one to suggest a dare challenge. “Whoever can finish the whole thing wins.”

“Three, two, one, go!” I cheered and together we began quickly drinking from our separate cups at the same time. Daemon had me drink some ale in the city streets but never this quickly so I had to stop having a little bit left before I watched Aemond slam his remaining liquor down. “Seven hells! How can you do that so fast?”

He sat the cup down holding a hand to his head feeling a little dizzy from that much liquor. “Aegon had me get drunk with him when we became of age. I managed to do that for two rounds before it made me quite sick. I’ll never do something that ridiculous ever again - oh and it appears I’ve won.”

“Fine, fine, yes you win. Now it’s my turn.” Getting up from the chair I ran from the kitchen and he followed me to my chambers. Letting him inside my chambers where I shut the door and headed over rummaging around in my clothing closet grabbing a pair of heels that I assume might fit. “Put these on and try to walk from the door to the window.”

Aemond scowled back at me, eyeing the heels hanging from my hand. “I will not put those ridiculous shoes on.”

“Would you rather attempt to do needle work and prick your fingers a bunch of times?” I challenged him. “Or are you a chicken refusing to do either.”

Aemond glared at me with one good eye. “Watch your words.”

“You weren't hurt me, not intentionally anyway.” I responded surprisingly not afraid of him putting his hands on me. “There’s a good person in you from where I'm standing.”

He crossed the room taking the heels from my hand and undoing his boots slipping them on. He stumbled across the room and fell on his knees hallway in the middle where he gave up causing me to laugh before he glanced over his shoulder at me. “You win, Stark. But don't you ever tell anyone about this.” I helped him up off the ground and he switched back to his shoes waiting outside the room for me to change into a tunic and trousers rather than attempting to fight in a gown.

We had one more challenge given that it was whoever won out of the three. Aemond and I had agreed on the last one being sword fighting given that me speaking good High Valyrian would take far too long and he’d obviously win. He drew his sword first before I drew mine and we got into a fighting stance. We took some swings that caused our swords smack against each other before gently shoves me backwards in the training yard. "What would the people of court think about this? A highborn lady fighting their prince?" I grunt, taking another swing at him.

He swung back circling me to make our sword press against one another for a moment. "I don't care what the court public think and neither should you." He steps back a little sword still raised as I get back in a fighting stance.

I raise my sword trying to strike him but he lightly elbows me in my side to strike me from below. I switch my sword to my left hand for a moment to knock him away. "Your form is better than I thought it would be."

"Thanks -uh!" I grunted out, pressing my sword against his. He pressed his sword against mine, never losing gaze with mine.

He started to loosen his hold on his sword when we pushed the other back but suddenly he knocked my sword from my left hand, knowing we both are dominant in our right hands. I dodge his next attack to reveal a dagger from inside my boot and block his sword coming down on me.

"Impressive, very impressive indeed." He parts his lips when I push his sword down getting up from being on my knees.

“Thanks for the compliment. But you still are a better swordsman than I, so you win. Two for two. So what will we be doing?” I slipped the dagger hidden back into my hidden spot.

Aemond stepped closer to me with both our swords swaying when our bodies moved. His eye lowered down to meet my soft eyes as he softly whispered. “Have you ever rode on Dragonback?’

“No, I haven’t.” I nervously gulped not sure if he was being serious or not.

Aemond simply replies. “Then that's what I want to do with you. I want you to ride Veghar with me.”

42 notes · View notes

mr-crawlings-wife · 5 days ago

Text

Chapter 7: The Language of Hands

Warnings: descriptions of disfigurement and insecurity.

His bare face is a revelation.

Sunlight slants through the library window, illuminating the gold in Baldwin's eyelashes, the curve of his mouth, the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose like constellations. The lesions—pink and silvery along his right cheekbone—look less like marks of illness and more like the faint scars any boy might earn climbing trees.

You realize you're staring when his throat bobs.

"Does it pain you?" The question escapes before you can stop it. It's a stupid question. Because patients of leprosy don't feel pain.

His fingers twitch against yours. "Not today."

You wonder what he means.

Today. A small mercy. You file this knowledge away with all the other precious scraps you've gathered about him—his fondness for honey cakes, the way his voice softens when speaking of his childhood tutor, how he sometimes leans his forehead against Noor's flank after a long council meeting, as if the mare's steady breathing gives him strength.

Your thumb traces the edge of his gloved hands, ones he had barely given time to remain bare. Still pulling away from you it seems.

They're unlike ordinary gloves. "Why these?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"They were my mother's last gift." His voice is barely above a whisper. "The leather is lined with silk. She thought... it would help."

You imagine a woman you'll never meet, desperate to ease her son's pain in any small way. Your chest aches.

Without thinking, you bring his hand to your lips and press a kiss to the knuckles, right where the embroidery forms a tiny fleur-de-lis.

Baldwin makes a soundsomewhere between a sharp inhale and a sob.

You freeze, horrified at your own boldness. Had you pushed him too far? Does he find you irksome? But when you dare to look up, his eyes are bright with something that steals your breath.

"Y/N-"

The library door crashes open.

You both jerk apart as a page boy skids to a halt, face flushed. "Your Majesty! Lord Tiberias demands—I mean, requests your presence immediately! The Saracen envoy—"

Baldwin is on his feet before the boy finishes, mask swiftly back in place. The transformation is chilling—the vulnerable youth replaced by the King of Jerusalem in an instant.

"Tell Tiberias I'm coming."

The boy bows and flees.

The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on, the moment gone, leaving the air heavy with the unsaid acknowledgments of all that has changed. Baldwin stands rigid, his gloved hands clenched at his sides.

You rise slowly, the manuscript forgotten on the sill. "You should go."

He doesn't move.

You reach for him, then hesitate. The space between you suddenly feels vast. But just as your hand starts to fall, his fingers catch yours.

"Tonight," he says urgently, voice muffled behind silver. "Meet me in the secret garden after vespers."

Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving only the scent of cedar and the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin.

You sink back onto the window seat, your heart pounding. The history book lies open to a chapter about Baldwin I's marriage—how the first King of Jerusalem carried his bride across the threshold of their chambers while the entire court cheered.

A lump forms in your throat.

Your own wedding night had been blessedly absent of such fanfare. Baldwin had appeared at your door long after midnight, still fully dressed, his mask firmly in place.

"I won't impose on you," he'd said, staring at a point just over your shoulder. "This marriage is political. You need only play the part at court."

Then he'd turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor. You'd wept into your pillow, though whether from relief or hurt, you still couldn't say.

The bells ring for nones, startling you from your thoughts. You close the book with trembling fingers, the illuminated letters glinting in the fading light:

And the king loved his queen with all his heart.

A shiver runs down your spine.

Tonight.

Whatever happens tonight, one thing is certain—

You're no longer just playing the part.

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin #baldwin x reader #I am speed the way I be absolutely butchering the slow burn

5 notes · View notes

feiandart · 1 year ago

Text

There is a part of Anthony that never left, in truth: it just became silent, hiding from the rest to remain untouched, pure, sensitive. It is hope that moves his legs, resurfacing timidly in his chest and giving his body the impetus it needs to get out of bed and quickly cover the distance to the door, then the corridor, until he stops in front of the Lord's chamber. He knocks on the door as if he had been doing it for months, feels his knuckles ache even though it is the first time he has made the action real and not just a figment of his imagination. He hits the wood insistently even when he hears small noises coming from inside the room. When Aziraphale opens the door, the artist has not yet stopped, but remains with his hand in midair, interrupted in the middle of the action. Inside the room it is dark, as black as moonless nights. "Your hands will bleed if you keep knocking, you know?" Anthony looks at him as if seeing him for the first time. There is something in the words used by Aziraphale that sounds so familiar to him that his heart flutters, although he cannot explain why. "Let them bleed," he replies without thinking. "Won't they hurt afterwards?" "Not if you help me fix them." Aziraphale holds his breath, stretching out his hands towards the artist with wide eyes. Anthony's heart does a somersault, letting calmness find its way onto his lips in a spontaneous smile. His gaze softens on his tired eyes, two pools of honey that turn to the Lord with the air of someone who has just returned from a long journey. The blond's face opens to a joy that has not fuelled it for days. I am back, the artist does not tell him. This time, however, if he does not do so, it is not for lack of strength or courage, or because he is hidden in some recondite corner of his mind: if he doesn't tell him, it is only because there is no need to do so. Aziraphale sees this for himself. He has already realised it. And indeed he takes a step forward, surrounds Anthony's waist with his strong arms and pulls him close with a whole new momentum, sinking his face into the artist's chest. He breathes heavily, as if he had not done so for months. "Welcome back, Anthony," whispers Aziraphale. The readhead wraps his arms around the Lord's shoulders, sinking his nose into soft curls. He indulges in that scent of vanilla and old pages that smells of everyday life, of long comfortable afternoons spent on the sofa reading or drinking wine. Aziraphale's scent, today, almost tastes like home. Almost, though. Only almost.

#good omens #good omens art #ineffable husbands #good omens au #gomens #crowley #good omens crowley #anthony j crowley #long hair crowley #good omens fanart #aziracrow #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens human au #sugar

53 notes · View notes

magicschild · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 16

The Potion’s Master

Summary:

DAY TWO IN THE CHAMBER They read the next chapter, The Potions Master, and get a little insight into the educational standards at Hogwarts.

Notes:

BOLD = Bookquotes ITALICS = Parsel UNDERLINE = Younger Version of a Character

Apparently no one was safe from the two medi-witches. Even the headmaster had been poked and prodded and put to bed. And when he'd questioned them, they'd outright told him he must have a deficit in his cognitive abilities to have ever allowed a twelve year old near a basilisk.

And what was worse, Albus was beginning to think she might be right.

A basilisk? Had the chamber of secrets re-opened during Harry's time at the school. He couldn't even imagine it. He would have closed the school, surely. He knew the risks of keeping it open under such conditions. And it was not worth it.

Since most of the chamber's inhabitants were now residents of the hospital, they reconvened there in the morning after breakfast to continue reading. No one willing to waste time not reading the book.

The younger professor Flitwick opened the book to the correct page and smiled at his colleagues. "Oh, dear... Looks like we're all going to be under the looking glass. This will be an interesting way to analyse our teaching practices."

None of the other teachers looked as eager as the two heads of Ravenclaw. With a flick of the half-goblin's wand, the book started up again.

‘There, look.’... he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

"That stopped eventually though, didn't it?" McGonagall frowned. She hadn't realised the boy had been hounded on his very first day.

Harry shrugged. "It was always worse at the beginning of the school year."

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts:

"How did you know that?" young George asked.

"Counted them," he said.

"On your first day?"

"Er... yeah. Plus, I'm pretty sure Hermione had said something in the common room..."

"No. No, that's not in Hogwarts: A History, Harry," Hermione said, struggling to hide her surprise.

wide, sweeping ones;... the coats of armour could walk.

"They can," Albus said with a knowing look.

"We know. They are part of the school's defenses," Ron said.

"Saw them in action at the Battle of Hogwarts," added Dean Thomas from where he was sitting next to his younger self and Seamus Finnagan.

Battle of Hogwarts? Surely the deatheaters hadn't attacked the school... That had never been part of his plan.

The ghosts didn’t help, either... ‘GOT YOUR CONK!’

"Your dad taught him that," Remus said with a small smile.

Even worse than Peeves... on their very first morning.

"Your first morning?" Sirius whistled. "It took us two weeks to annoy him."

Filch found them trying to force their way through a door... lamp-like eyes just like Filch’s.

"I hate that cat," Remus growled, his eyes turning amber.

She patrolled the corridors alone... to give Mrs Norris a good kick.

"I hope you didn't," young Mrs Weasley said sternly, glaring at Harry and her own children.

"Of course not," Harry said, trying not to sound offended. Obviously, he wouldn't hurt the cat.

And then, once you had managed to find them... funny words.

"Obviously," muttered Snape.

They had to study the night skies... found out what they were used for.

Pomona blushed lightly at the description of her. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but it was strange hearing it being described in a book.

Easily the most boring lesson was History of Magic... got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

"It's also Hogwarts worst performing subject," Minerva grumbled to her colleagues.

"Why keep Professor Binns on then?" Hermione asked, overhearing her.

"The Headmaster insists," young Flitwick answered, "much to the rest of the faculty's frustration."

"You know that doesn't help the issues between purebloods and muggleborns," Harry said. "Just another example of how Hogwarts is failing to prepare muggleborns for joining the wizarding world."

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher... and toppled out of sight.

"Well... That's embarrassing," the younger Flitwick muttered.

Professor McGonagall was again different... You have been warned.’

"Never kicked me out though, Professor Minnie," Sirius said with a grin.

"Doesn't mean I didn't consider it," the younger witch said.

Her older counterpart laughed. "You were good enough to do your mastery. I'd have been a fool to kick you out. Even if you were a troublemaker."

Then she changed her desk into a pig... gave Hermione a rare smile.

"I'd been practising at home," Hermione admitted with a blush. "Hadn't succeeded yet. But I'd been trying."

The class everyone had really been looking forward... Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

"More like it was to mask the smell of rotting flesh," Harry muttered, causing Sirius's eyes to go wide in alarm.

Harry was very relieved to find out... much of a head start.

"Practically, you were all on the same level. Except perhaps the Slytherins," Flitwick explained. "They often receive home tutoring from masters in the year before starting Hogwarts."

"Draco certainly did," Lucius said. "Although that was always secondary to his lordship lessons."

Young Lucius was nodding along. "He studied all the core subjects for six months and then used the last six months to focus on his favourites; potions and defence."

Friday was an important day... without getting lost once.

Everyone cheered. Impressed that the two first years had managed that. It was easy to get lost in Hogwarts. Especially in the areas closest to the house common rooms as those parts of the castle were designed to make it harder to find the students' sleeping quarters.

‘What have we got today?’... ‘Double Potions with the Slytherins,’ said Ron.

All the lions groaned.

‘Snape’s Head... see if it’s true.’

"Of course, it's true," George grumbled, forgetting that he'd formed a sort of truce with the sour man.

‘Wish McGonagall favoured us... a huge pile of homework the day before.

"I want my lions to succeed, Mr Potter," young Minerva said sternly.

Just then, the post arrived... happened to him so far.

"And for you, Heir Potter, that is saying something," young Lucius said, glancing at his friend. He could only imagine how Severus had responded to seeing his childhood nemesis's child in his classroom.

At the start-of-term banquet... hated him.

"You're exaggerating, Mr Potter," Minerva said sharply. "None of your professors hate you."

"Tell that to the ones that tried to kill me," Harry retorted. "In fact, I've been attacked by every defense professor I've ever had. Except perhaps Snape, but even he's been verbally abusive. So... yeah, I count that six out of six."

"Your teachers have attacked you?" Sirius demanded, before glaring at the teachers. "Durmstrang is looking better and better."

Krum piped up from where he was sitting awkwardly alone in one corner. "Potter, it vould be an honour to have you at Durmstrang."

Potions lessons took place... he paused at Harry’s name.

"Oh dear," Minerva muttered, glancing at the potion's master. She'd trusted him and he'd betrayed them. What if the students had been telling the truth about his teaching methods?

She'd never taken them seriously, but with hindsight she couldn't help but think that was likely a terrible mistake.

‘Ah, yes,’ he said softly, ‘Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity.’

"Severus!" young Minerva took a sharp breath.

Snape for his part avoided looking at anyone, working hard to maintain his occulmency shields. If his older self knew nothing of the boy's home life, it was easy to imagine that he had been far from kind.

Draco Malfoy... They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"That's strangely descriptive," Tonks muttered.

‘You are here to learn the subtle science... even stopper death

"That's a brilliant opening to the class, Severus," young Flitwick said.

– if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.’

"Ah, forget I said anything," young Filius said, shaking his head.

More silence followed this little speech... root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?’

"That's not a first year question," young Pomona said. "That's a little hard, don't you think?"

"I had been informed by the headmaster that the child had received training, that he was not uneducated." Severus glared at the headmaster.

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?... ‘Tut, tut – fame clearly isn’t everything.’

Sirius looked on the verge of attacking the potion's master and Remus's eyes were definitely flashing amber. The teachers were looking at Severus like he'd grown two heads.

Yes, McGonagall thought to herself, she'd given Severus Snape far too much credit.

He ignored Hermione’s hand... find me a bezoar?’

"Another unreasonable question," Filius muttered.

"I shouldn't have to remind you all that I am a spy," Severus said quietly. "And the Gryffindors and Slytherins took the class together. There were children in that room that could report back to their death eater parents, if I was kind to him."

Hermione stretched her hand as high... who were shaking with laughter.

"Case in point," Lucius agreed.

He wasn't surprised to hear that his friend had been a spy. He'd always been suspicious and he knew Dumbledore certainly thought he was. But just whose side was Severus Snape actually on?

‘I don’t know, sir.’... Magical Herbs and Fungi?

"Wrong book, Heir Potter," Severus said with a small, somewhat kind smile. "It's worth noting that he would have known the answers to both questions had he received the muggleborn initiation pack."

"Huh?" Harry asked, "What's that, sir?"

"A set of books specifically prepared for each muggle raised child," Severus said. "The information about a bezoar is something most magical children learn very young. It's on par with muggles learning how to cross the street safely."

"I didn't get an initiation pack."

"Clearly. That is the fault of your teachers and on their behalf, I apologise."

Everyone looked at the potion's master like he'd suddenly turned all the colours of the rainbow. Did he really just apologise? And to a Potter no less!

Snape was still ignoring... At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

"Miss Granger!" Minerva was shocked at her lion's behaviour. "That is no way to behave in the classroom. No matter what we may think of Professor Snape's conduct, he is asking another student a question. NOT the entire class and your behaviour is a distraction. This was really quite selfish of you. You failed to respect the education of your fellow students, with your need to show off."

Several people's eyes bulged out at that. McGonagall never had a bad word to say about Hermione. And Hermione herself looked close to tears.

"I..." She didn't know how to respond to such criticism from one of her favourite teachers.

"You were eager to prove yourself," Minerva said, her tone softening. "However, you should never allow that to be at the expense of your peers."

‘I don’t know,’ said Harry quietly... Snape, however, was not pleased.

"That won't go down well," Flitwick said. "Although it was most likely not your intention. It sounds like you're laughing at her."

"I would have presumed you to be a bully, just like your father for that," Severus admitted.

‘Sit down,’ he snapped at Hermione... aren’t you all copying that down?’

"Because you didn't tell them to," Pomona said softly, censure clear in her voice.

There was a sudden rummaging... house for your cheek, Potter.’

"Just a point, Severus?" young Flitwick's eyes glittered. Severus was known to take points from Gryffindor in the double figures at every opportunity.

Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors... except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

"I am his godson," young Malfoy boasted.

"And more to the point, I taught you how to brew myself," Severus said with a roll of his eyes.

He was just telling everyone to look... sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"How did you melt a cauldron, Neville?" the younger Augusta asked. "Your potion tutor was always so impressed with your comprehension of the subject."

"Er..." He looked about awkwardly. "Professor Snape made me nervous and... well... I was always better at the preparation, than the actual brewing."

"Not to mention he was working with Seamus!" Ron said with a snicker.

"HEY!" Seamus complained in time with his younger self.

"Potionmaking is eight tenths proper preparation, Heir Longbottom," Severus said. "I apologise if you find me... intimidating. I may seem overstrict in the potion lab, but it is mostly just because I wish to ensure my students' safety. My predecessors had too many accidents in their classrooms for my liking. Often with consequences that could not be undone."

He did not want to tell them the sort of disasters he'd seen when Slughorn was potions master.

‘Idiot boy!’ snarled Snape... Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Really! That boy should be on his way to the hospital wing, not being shouted at by his professor." young Madam Pomfrey fumed.

Both Augusta Longbottoms looked like they were preparing for a meeting of the board of governors. Not only would she have Dumbledore out of a job, but Severus Snape too. Although she had to admit, he'd been kinder in the chamber, than they were seeing in the book. She's hold judgement for now. After all, she was a secret Slytherin if ever there was one.

‘Take him up to the hospital wing... That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.’

"Completely unreasonable!" Minerva glowered at the potion master she had once counted among her closest friends.

"Still only a point though," young Flitwick said knowingly.

This was so unfair... ‘I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.’

"I'm beginning to see that," Pomona said mournfully. More than one puff had quit potions, even though they were quite good at it, just to avoid being taught by Severus. And no convincing on her part could change their minds.

As they climbed the steps... why did Snape hate him so much?

"How many reasons do you need?" Ron asked, letting out a booming laugh.

"That list has certainly grown since first year," Granger agreed.

‘Cheer up,’ said Ron... not as fierce as he looked.

Several people laughed at that.

"It's the ones with the cuddly names you have to fear," Harry teased.

"Yeah, don't forget Fluffy!" Ron said.

"Aragod and Norbet don't fit into your hypothesis, Harry," Hermione said.

"There are always anomalies, Hermione."

"Fang and Fluffy are literally the only ones that work," Hermione huffed.

‘This is Ron... yer twin brothers away from the Forest.’

"If I hear one more word about you going into that forest," Mrs Weasley chided George.

"He's a grown man, Molly. Enough," Mr Weasley said, patting her arm gently.

The rock cakes... first lessons.

"You should have said," young Hagrid said bashfully.

Fang rested his head on Harry’s knee and drooled all over his robes.

"Eww," several children said, grimacing at the idea of being covered in drool.

Harry and Ron were delighted... Filch puts her up to it.'

"Really, Hagrid?" the young Pomona asked. "Whatever happened to loyalty amongst colleagues?"

Harry told Hagrid about Snape’s lesson... his eyes when he said that.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "People were always lying about stuff. And you were all pretty transparent."

Severus scoffed, causing Harry to look at him.

"You never lied. I was grateful for that."

"You'd never have known if I had," Severus sneered, although strangely feeling a warm sense of pride at the praise coming from the young prince.

"I'd have known," Harry muttered.

‘How’s yer brother Charlie?... changed the subject on purpose.

"He most likely didn't want to tell you about your father's history with Severus," Remus said awkwardly. "Especially after all the horrible things your relatives had said about your parents."

"Couldn' be the one ter tell ya, Harry. Didn't seem right. Damaging yer father's memory like that." Hagrid gave him an apologetic look.

While Ron told Hagrid... It might’ve been happening while we were there!’

"Well, that's interesting," Moody murmured. The employees of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement leaned forward in their seats. "Potter, you said there was a death eater in the pub, right?"

"Yes, sir." Harry could literally see the auror's brain working.

There was no doubt about it,... another rock cake.

"Not suspicious at all," George teased.

Harry read the story again... Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

"Good deductions, Potter," Alastor said with a sharp, shark like grin that might even put the goblins' to shame for it's blood-thirstiness.

As Harry and Ron walked... that he didn’t want to tell Harry?

"That's the chapter," young Flitwick said. "Carry on with the next?"

"When can we leave the hospital?" Hermione grumbled.

"When I tell you that you're back to optimum health," the young Madam Pomfrey replied curtly.

"I guess we should just continue then," Hermione said with a huff.

#Harry Potter #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #harry potter fanfiction #characters reading harry potter #master of death harry potter #book 1 harry potter #characters reading harry potter books #sacrificing magic's child #magical culture #hp fanfic

2 notes · View notes