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br7ght · 9 months

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Little Slut millie bright

summary: Your on-pitch rivalry with Millie Bright turns into a night you'll never forget

warnings: dom!millie, sub!reader, hate sex, gagging, degradation, praise kink (shocker), fingering, spanking, cunnilingus, and an embarrassingly large amount of dirty talk.

pairing: millie bright x reader

word count: 6000 [i genuinely could not stop writing and it's still going to be a two-parter ;)]

SMUT 18+

Just a simple reminder that this is fiction! If you don't like this content then simply do not read it! You have been warned

It was the third day of training camp and Sarina had you and the rest of the team playing a five-a-side game, just a friendly practice, but with Lucy and Millie playing it was never going to be anything like a friendly match. You were usually a semi-aggressive player, sliding in for tackles when you felt the match wasn’t going your way, but nothing in comparison to the other two. You were upfront, Millie Bright marking you as if you had hurt her in a previous life.

You two never really got along anyway, you both rubbed each other up the wrong way and you’d barely spent any time with her in comparison to the rest of the girls. You played for opposing teams and even fans had started to realise the tension between you two. One of you always seemed to end up on the floor when you played against each other, and Millie’s shirt was never the one covered in grass stains. She was relentless against you and by the time you’d finished the full 90 minutes you always looked like you’d been through the wars.

The ball falls to your feet for the third time in the last 15 minutes, you try desperately to dribble it around Millie but she was so much stronger and more athletic than you so you could barely more a few steps without it leaving your possession. You knew you were a good player, but she made you doubt yourself and that’s where you presumed the frustration originated. What made it worse was her smug looking smirk that she wore as she passed the ball up the pitch, turning back around and catching your eyeline. You hear Lucy shouting at you, her hard work getting it away from your goal ruined again as you just couldn’t get it by the force of Millie Bright.

The ball gets kicked out and you’re practising your teams corner kicks now, working on your positioning in the box, waiting for Greenwood to release the ball. You’re slightly leant over, trying to take up as much of the offensive line as you could. A strong hand fell against your back, the finger span reaching almost over half of your waist. You knew it was Millie even without looking. You pushed back into her, a groan leaving your lips as she holds her ground, and you swear you could hear a laugh as she can see you get more and more wound up by her behaviour.

Greenwood finally whips the ball in your direction, you go to jump for it but as your feet leave the ground, Millie shoves into you with her shoulder making you lose your balance in the air and you slam against the floor, knocking all the air out of your lungs as you grasp your ankle in pain. Millie offers you a hand, but you’d reached your limit of Bright today, batting her hand away and jumping up in response. You feel your anger bubble out of you, bravely getting in her face and shoving her hard. She looks taken aback by you as she stumbles backwards but it was no way strong enough to actually push her over, you don’t think you’d ever seen anyone successfully shove her to the floor.

“What the fuck was that?” Millie growled; you could hear the anger in her voice as she gets equally up in your face. However, she towers over you, she had a good extra 6 inches of height against you but you don’t see yourself backing down.

“What was what? I’m just throwing my weight around like you have to me this entire fucking game.” The anger was rising uncontrollably now, both of you in a stand-off against each other, both of your cheeks glowing red.

“God, Don’t be so fucking precious.” There was a suspicious smirk plastered across her face as her dark glaze caught you off guard. You were convinced you hated her, but now you weren’t so sure as you felt a gulp choke you in the back of your throat at her words.

“Oh fuck off Millie you’re doing my fucking head in.” The words left your mouth, and it was too late to take it back. By this point the rest of the team had noticed what was going on, all of them just watching as you stood in each other’s faces. It all got too much in your head and you started to walk away from her, but you were stopped by a strong grip on your arm spinning you straight back into it.

“No what is your fucking problem?” She demanded an answer, giving you a quick effortless shove and you could feel your body begin to burn as you stumble backwards, the combination of absolute rage but now also the confused arousal at her physical dominance over you. Your fists clenched and before you knew it, you’d been grabbed by someone, guiding you away for the situation, gripping hold of your shoulders. You could barely think straight, completely embarrassed of the altercation that you’d started, but she just made you so angry you couldn’t help it.

Lucy continued to guide you off the pitch, throwing her hand up to Sarina who just looked sick and tired of the team drama that always unfolded at training camp. As soon as you reached the tunnel you felt your anger build and build again.

“What on earth do you think you were doing, why start something with Bright when you’re that short.” Lucy joked, but also wanting you to answer her question. She was easily your favourite person in the group, despite you and her being the youngest and oldest in the starting XI.

“She just winds me up Luce, that fucking smugness on the pitch it’s so exhausting playing against her.” You admit, stopping in the middle of the tunnel as you knew Lucy had to make it back to training while you calmed down.

“I bet it winds you up, what all that dominance.”

“Not like that, fucking hell get your mind out of the gutter Bronzey.” You were even beginning to get agitated with her now. She shrugs in response to you, knowing in her head that she was right, but she didn’t want to be on the wrong side of you either.

“All I’m gonna say is you wanna sort this out.” She advised truthfully, “The one person you don’t want to start a physical rivalry with is Millie Bright, especially when she is twice the fucking size of you shorty.” With that she patted your back and ran back onto the pitch. You were seeing red at this point, storming off and finding your way back to your room to sort the mess in your head out once and for all.

You were sat in your room about an hour later and your brain hadn’t stopped spinning since you were dragged off the pitch. You never shared a room at camp, thanking yourself as you laid back on the bed, finally feeling some level of calm. Still, you kept switching your phone on and off, flicking onto millies contact number before talking yourself out of it. You don’t know why you felt the need to apologise, but something Lucy had said had found its way deep into your brain and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. Yet as soon as the guilt washed over, you were back to being reminded how she had done everything she could to push you over the edge and the frustration bubbled back up.

You didn’t remember when you’d typed her username into Instagram, but you’d found yourself shamelessly stalking the older woman. You were observing her form, her muscular frame and the tattoo sleeve that covered up her biceps. You continued scrolling and you came across a certain picture of her in a white polo, the angle of the photo from below and it sent you into overdrive. Your mouth was ajar, and you finally let the feelings of arousal pool between your legs, your thighs subconsciously squeezing together.

You were barely in control of yourself as you reached your hand into your joggers, lifting up the waistband but before you could even do anything there was a knock at your door and you jumped out of your skin, removing your hand quickly and getting up.

You rearranged your hair, unlocking the latch and opening up the door. You were greeted with Millie, still in her kit, her Captain’s armband clasping around her muscular arms, her hair up in her signature bun, hair spilling out over the sides. She was still sweating, and you presumed she’d come straight from training.

“Millie what are you doing here?” You ask, your eyes rolling, and she was already scoffing at your reaction.

“I need an answer to my question, what’s your fucking problem with me?” She stepped into your room, and you felt your back hit the wall as she towered over you. That same Millie smirk was glaring right through you.

“Oh, shut up Bright, how can you be bothered to come here to start this again.” There was a deep annoyance to your tone. You were embarrassed that you’d let yourself believe she was turning you on, you nearly touched yourself thinking about her and now you were just writhing in anger all over again.

“I want to know what I’ve done that’s wound your pretty little head up so much.” Your breath hitched at her words, and she could see how much she was messing with your emotions. You ignored your arousal at her interruption, beginning to get angry as you felt her dominance intimidating you.

“What? So, you can keep doing it?” You couldn’t help but gaze down her frame, her wide stance doubling over you.

“God do you really think that bad of me?” You felt as though she was mocking you, you couldn’t tell, Millie was so difficult to read. You couldn’t tell what her intentions even were for barging into your room like this. Her words were having a huge effect on you, but you couldn’t tell whether this was what she wanted, turning you into a desperate mess.

“You know what Millie, yes, I do, you fucking strut around on the pitch throwing your weight around. You’ve barely said anything to me since I joined, and I’m convinced that this nice girl persona is all just a-” She forces her lips against yours and you swear you could see stars as she steps into your space, backing you fully against the wall, her hand cradling your back.

You couldn’t quite believe what was happening, but you kissed her back, fighting for dominance against her mouth but losing it quickly. She was never going to give into you, she had her own plan for the evening, and it didn’t involve fighting you for control.

She pulls back, smiling at your flushed red cheeks. Her fingers tuck the strand of hair behind your ear, dragging the tips down your neck, nails grazing against your skin.

“Well, I’ve worked out how to get you to shut up now haven’t I” She grimaced down at you, her dominance announced itself to the entire room. You could barely string a sentence together, your emotions running through your head, too many to keep track.

“Millie, I- “

“I think that’s what’s been going on hm?” She finished her sentence hovering over your neck, latching onto your skin and making her mark against you.

“What?” You ask innocently, your head hitting against the wall as you felt her teeth dig into your neck, a small moan exiting your lips and her grip against your back tightened.

“You need me to fuck all this stupid talk out of you.” Her words came naturally to her, and you couldn’t even bare to admit to yourself how wet it was making you. The only thing you can do is nod at her comment, reaching for the back of her neck and pulling her close to you again. You needed her lips against yours, the burning heat between you growing as she slid her tongue against your lips pleading for entrance into your mouth.

You allowed it, her tongue swiping against yours. She gripped your thighs, making sure to squeeze your ass before lifting you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around her waist. This was effortless for her, slamming your back against the wall again making you gasp into her mouth. She used this moment to take your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back before letting it go again, inciting a string of breathy moans of excitement as she held you tightly.

She moved you from the wall, not once breaking your forceful, desperate kisses. You felt her grip let you go, and you fell against the bed right next to your unlocked phone that was still on Millie’s Instagram. She smirked as she looked at you unaware that she had already seen what you were looking at before she arrived.

“What’s this babe?” She questioned with fake curiosity; she knew exactly what you were doing with the picture that it was frozen on. She picked up your phone, kneeling next to your horizontal body, waving the screen in front of your face. Your face must have been a deep red colour, the blood rushing to your head and you didn’t even know what you could say to hide what you’d really thought about doing when you saw that picture. “Tell me what you were doing with this picture of me.”

“Nothing, I was just looking.” She didn’t believe you, the shaky delivery of your lie not helping disguise your shame. Millie runs her fingers over your shirt until she reaches your nipple, rolling it between her fingers and thumb, pinching lightly through your shirt.

“Tell me the truth or you’re going to regret it.” Her words were serious, but you were lost in the way your shirt was being shifted up your body, your bare breasts reacting to the cool breeze that was drafting through the room. She swaps her hand for her mouth, flicking her tongue harshly against the hardening nub.

“I wasn’t doing anything I swear.” You lied again but you couldn’t stop the aching arousal that was growing inside of you as she moved to focus on your left nipple, taking it completely into her mouth. A little sweet moan slipped from you lips as she starts sucking and licking it in a strong, relentless rhythm. Her strokes worked harder, her tongue now lashing across your sensitive nipple, her nails digging into the sides of the other.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, not when I have you moaning like this already.” With no warning, she bit her teeth down hard against your left nipple, you yelped in pain, and you knew she wasn’t going to stop until you admitted what you’d done.

“Fuck Millie fine I was going to touch myself while looking at you.” The words fell desperately from your lips, and she soothed your sensitive chest by flattening her tongue over your nipple, her saliva cooling the searing pain she’d caused a few seconds ago.

“That’s better babe, you’re learning already.” Her words were making you weak as she reaches her arm underneath your back, cradling you in her arms as she toyed with you, teasing you, working you up until you were trembling. She was placing kisses up your chest, only touching you with her fingertip, her nails leaving a tingle wherever she touches. These gentle touches just letting you know that what you had admitted was turning her on.

“Millie please just do something.” You whimper in suspense, looking up at the blonde who was domineeringly leaning over your body, her hands roaming every part of you. She untied your jogger strings, slipping them down off your legs and you watch as her cheeks flush red at the sight of your black lace lingerie.

“Mm, these are pretty baby girl, did you put these on for me?” Her tone was getting harsher, her grip on your skin getting rougher and you could feel her lust behind her fingertips. You nod and she smiles against your thigh, her hands could fit around the width of your leg and there was something incredibly seductive about the way she was spreading them open, licking her lips in anticipation. “Let’s get these off now though.” By the time her sentence was finished she had your underwear halfway off you, her movements becoming rushed and desperate herself, but she could hold herself together and she was planning on doing so.

You feel the cold air of the room hit your bare skin, the warmth of her hands not going to where you needed her the most and she knew it. She could see the desperation behind your eyes, but she wasn’t going to just give it to you. Millie had you completely naked and you suddenly became aware of her being fully dressed, now kneeling in-between your legs. You had been so distracted by her touches and teasing that this was the first time you were really watching her. The way her blonde hair was messily sat on top of her head, her captain’s armband still gripping her muscles. You were desperate to see what was underneath, but there was something so alluring about her fucking you in that kit.

She grips your head, pulling you in to an upright position, kissing your forcefully as you are readjusted to fit where she wanted you to be. “You are so fucking gorgeous, look at the way your nipples are just permanently hard when you look at me.” She teases, pinching the left with force and making you moan into her mouth. “I want you to watch yourself.”

You felt your breath leave your lungs at her words, she moved out from between your legs, fingers under your chin as she moved your gaze to the mirror that was on the wall opposite the bed. You had a perfect view of yourself, sat legs spread, dark marks all the way up your body. You watch as Millie moves to sit behind you, letting you fall back into her arms. “You are going to watch as I touch you.” It was an order and you felt yourself get all shy, hiding your face in her arm as you twist and squirm, your face bright red with embarrassment.

“I said watch. I mean it baby don’t make me angry again.” Her voice was harsh, the combination of praise and dominance doubling the arousal between your legs. Her captaincy coming out of her as she forces you back into position. She hooks her legs over yours, forcing your legs to stay wide open. You catch your own gaze back at you, watching as Millie’s hands roamed your chest again, pinching at your nipples and watching you in the mirror as your head flung back and you gasped against her neck.

Your legs were spread wide open and every time you looked forward you could see her eyes burning on you, watching as she brought her hand down to your inner thigh, tracing small circles and itching up higher and higher until she was so damn close but still not giving into you. You were entranced by the scene unfolding in front of your eyes, her tongue was on her own lips again and it was a look that you couldn’t ever recover from.

“Please Millie, I need you, I just want you to fuck me.” The urgency was clear from your voice, but she just laughs at your desperation, continuing her small circles around your thighs. “Millie please.”

She pulls your hair back hard and the gasp that came from your lips was completely involuntary. “Stop being a fucking whore, you will get what I give you.” She spat, her voice turning to a growl as she lets your hair go, her hand cupping your heat, not giving you any pressure, and not letting you grind yourself against her. “Talking of whores, you’ve made a fucking mess of yourself, haven’t you?” Her grin was so intimidating as she felt your wetness against her hand, you were a whining mess against her palm, and she was loving it.

“Millie-” You were cut off again, the same hand moving up to cover your mouth and you groan against it, hips thrusting against nothing but the air in the room, desperate for some sort of contact.

“You’re pushing your luck sweetheart.” Millie whispers, her other hand moving around your throat, cutting off your oxygen completely. She had a tight grip around your marked neck as you twist in attempt to remove yourself from her hold. You give in and she lets go of you, trailing her hands back down your body as you catch your breath. You watch everything she does to you, observing the smirk that she made in reaction to your noises when she got closer to where you needed her before moving them back up your body. She was driving you crazy on purpose, punishing you for making her so angry a few hours earlier.

“Would you like me to touch you baby?” You nod, not speaking or begging, doing everything she asked of you. The power she held over you as she had you vulnerable and trembling between her legs. “There’s a good girl.” She praises and you watch as her hand found its way back down to your aching pussy, dragging her finger through your folds, swiping gently through the wetness that she found between your legs. She brings her hand up to her mouth, making direct eye contact with your reflection as she tastes you. You moan just from watching her and your hips buck upwards involuntarily just trying to contact something as she wound you into a frustrated arousal.

She teases your entrance, pushing just the tip of her finger inside of you and you feel your head fall back to rest on her shoulder. The pleasure making it difficult for you to keep your head held. “No baby, watch as I enter you.” You do as she says, knowing you wouldn’t get what you wanted without it. Your lips pressed together as you watch her finger move fully inside of you, pumping her arm, her muscles flexing as she starts to thrust her wrist.

“Fuck Millie, I need more, please.” You beg accidentally, but she turns a blind eye, giving you what you want. She adds a second finger and your eyes slam shut, focusing on the feeling of Millies fingers curling upwards and hitting your spot every time she entered you. As soon as your eyes shut you felt her movements still, her fingers buried inside of you but not moving. You whine and when your eyes open and catch her gaze in the mirror she continues. You understood the rules and Millie was definitely going to stick to them.

“Good girls get what they want baby, so I suggest you keep looking at yourself while I fuck you if you want this to end nicely.” The words came out her mouth so casually, but it sounded so goddamn attractive, the eye contact in the mirror making it so much more intense as you watch your pussy stretch around her fingers.

“My clit, please touch me.” The frustration was building up and you could barely hear yourself speak, your mind foggy at the sight of Millie fingering you.

“God you’re a needy girl aren’t you.” She smirked, shifting her hand so she could rub small circles around your clit with her thumb and you gasped in pleasure as the built-up pressure inside of you was released. She was getting you closer and closer, the little groans she kept making in your ear combined with her little nips against your neck all adding to your building orgasm. “Look at yourself baby, look how hot you look taking my fingers.”

You could feel your legs beginning to shake, your moans growing louder as she applied a stronger pressure to your swollen clit, thrusting her fingers quicker. You were so close, and she stopped, removing her hand from you, letting you come all the way back down. You look at her with confusion, turning your head to look at her properly.

“That’s what you get for being so whiny baby girl.” You whine in response, fittingly of course. Squirming around, trying to shut your legs to gain some sort of contact but Millie’s legs were pinning them apart, not letting you get your own way. She started her teasing again and you thought your body was going to collapse at the lack of contact she was making with your body again.

“Millie, you’re driving me crazy, please just fuck me again, make me cum for you.” You felt pathetic and desperate, her small smile making you realise this was exactly how she wanted you to feel. The kisses on your neck changed when she sunk her teeth into your skin, making you cry out.

“Stop fucking begging.” Her sentences were getting shorter, her patience running dry with you. You wanted to rile her up to, there was a sense of curiosity about her growing anger and how her face was growing redder as you fought back against her dominance.

When her hand reached to your entrance again, you felt your bratty side begin to shine through. She pushed two fingers inside of you again and after a few thrusts you decided to wind her up even more. You were watching her in awe as she worshipped your body. “Fuck me harder, please I need you to fuck me properly.”

That was the last thing you remembered saying, your bratty side being broken down as she pushed you down onto the bed, switching her position so she was straddled on top of you, your arms pinned down next to your head. “You’re feeling brave hm?” She asked, you felt way more intimidated as you were forced to look at her face rather than the reflection of her behind you. You nodded your head, using up the last ounce of your bratty side. She grabs your chin, forcing your head up as she leans over making sure the only thing you could see was her face.

“You wanna be fucked like my little slut?” She growled, you nod, and she wasn’t having your silent responses anymore. She chokes you, harder than before, your head going fuzzy for a second. “You better fucking answer me, or I’ll leave you here, pathetically trembling for me.”

“Yes Millie, fuck me please.” This was all you could come up with in the heat of the moment and when she laughed at your response you knew you weren’t getting away so easily.

“Tell me what you are then.” Her patronising tone and strong grip around your throat making you squirm but her legs straddled your stomach, keeping you pinned down against the mattress.

“Your little slut.” You whisper, your voice being taken away with how nervous you were in her presence. Seeing Millie so in charge of you was a normal occurrence on the pitch, but your pleasure being in her hands was something that made you so vulnerable but so desperate for her.

“And trust me, you’ll know it.” She kisses you with such force you could barely think straight, her hand still remaining around your throat, her teeth biting down on your lip, everything about this was rough and dirty. She continues to mark your neck and you were moaning in desperation, every bite she made you knew would leave a souvenir of this night, being able to see every mark that she makes on you. You felt your core ache and each mark she made down your neck and on your chest was making you whine, and you could feel each time you pushed her buttons as her teeth sunk in harder, sucking your skin with the intention of making you feel it for hours afterwards.

“You need to stop fucking whining.” Millie sits up, her fully dressed form starting to drive you mental with curiosity of wanting to see what her clothes was underneath. She reached for her Captains armband, sliding it quickly off her arm and shoving it into your mouth. “That should keep you quiet for me.”

You couldn’t believe the position you were in, underneath your captain with her armband gagging you, stopping you from moaning when she touches you. She places your hands above your head, her eyebrow raises telling you to keep them there. Millie pulls her t-shirt off, your eyes widening at the sight of what you’d imagined a few seconds ago, her toned stomach glistening in the hotel room light. “I want you over my lap.”

You moaned into the armband, the thought of being leant over her lap making you shake with anticipation. Before you could react, she was sat on the edge of the bed, her hand in your hair pulling you onto all fours, your stomach falling flush against her closed thighs.

Without a warning you felt two fingers being pushed into you, a quick relentless pace not allowing you to get used to the stretch needed to fit around her. You were moaning unashamedly against your gag, gasping as her flat handed palm hit your ass with a sting. She kept this going until you were a trembling mess over her lap. Each spank was met with her fingers curling harshly against your g-spot, her own groans making you dizzy as she worked hard to roughly thrust her fingers in and out of your cunt. “If only everyone could see you now.” She hummed, your pants getting more laboured as you felt your orgasm building in your stomach. “Bent over my lap with my armband stopping those pathetic little noises that you’re making for me.”

You felt yourself getting closer and when her arm snaked around your body to find your throbbing clit, she barely drew three circles against it and you were crying out against the armband every time you felt her fingers slam against your sweet spot. Your thighs were shaking, and your nails were gripping into her thighs as you felt your inevitable orgasm building. With one more spank you feel your core collapse with blinding pleasure and your orgasm burns through your body, your hips jolting uncontrollably as she fucks you through it.

You were so sensitive, but Millie was still thrusting her fingers into you, adding a third finger and your muffled moans spurring her to continue fucking you, her pace getting quicker as your thighs never stopped shaking. She was not in the mood to let you have any say in how she was taking you, the addition of her third finger stretching you out more than before. Her endless circles against your clit were getting stronger as you desperately winced through the overstimulation. “Come on, give me another, I know you can do it for me.” The mix of praise as you were degraded over her lap did it for you, the last orgasm still fluttering through you as the next one came out of nowhere.

Her harsh thrusts and small circles sent you into a state of shock, this orgasm lasting twice as long as the last and your hips now pushing back against Millies fingers. “Oh baby,” She sighed, removing her fingers, your body rigid over her lap. She tugs on your hair again, forcing you up onto your knees, your legs barely able to hold your own weight up. “Look at the mess you’ve made.” She said, gesturing towards her hand dripping in your arousal. You watch as she takes a finger and places it against her tongue, sucking up every last drop. Her eyes were dark with lust as her eyes trailed down your naked body that was kneeling to the side of her, the florescent green armband the only item of clothing in sight between your teeth.

“I think this will shut you up on the pitch now hm?” She questioned, squeezing your cheeks, and taking the armband out of your mouth, the drenched fabric being thrown to the side. “Each time you see me wearing this you’ll be imagining yourself bent over my lap.” With the gag out of your mouth, your groans and gasps sounded more intense than before, and you could see the lust behind Millies eyes. With your noises now at full strength, each moan was creating a pool between her own thighs, but she was too focused on you to even notice it.

“Come lie right here, legs spread.” She demanded, pointing to her face as she lied back on the bed. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion; you thought you were done. The throbbing sensitivity between your legs signalling that you couldn’t take any more and while the thought of riding Millie’s face was driving you crazy you didn’t think you had it in you to go again. “What’s wrong? You wanted to be fucked like my little slut so you’re going to do as you’re told and come and straddle my face. Now.”

Within seconds you found your knees spread, planted on the mattress, one on either side of her face. Her hands were holding your waist tightly, her strength keeping you stuck in place, disallowing your hips from grinding against her tongue. You were moaning into the mattress as her tongue explored your folds, swirling it around your oversensitive clit. Each time you felt the push of her tongue against your bundle of nerves you were met with a pleasurable shock that was sent right through your body. Her hands were gripping the back of your thighs before her fingers crawled towards your well fucked pussy, deciding she wasn’t finished with you just yet.

With the immediate push of three fingers into your entrance you moaned loudly, you felt your hips being lifted, allowing her to speak against your pussy. “That’s its baby, moan for me, make those pretty noises now you can. This is the only way I want to hear my name on your lips.” You gasp as her tongue instantly reconnects with your clit, swirling those same excruciating circles that were drawing your third orgasm closer.

You couldn’t control the sinful noises that were escaping your open mouth. You were being railed over Millie’s face and her thrusts were still getting stronger. Her stamina was unsurprisingly relentless, her muscular build finally being of somewhat use to you.

“Fuck Mils I’m so close.” You pant, moans interrupting your words, with her movements speeding up a fraction you took this as permission, but you couldn’t stop it either way. The orgasm that came made your knees buckle, your body unable to hold itself over Millies’s mouth, your thighs squeezing her head into place against your clit. Her tongue flicked back and forth over your nub as you rode out your orgasm, her hands no longer keeping your hips in place as you grind against her mouth. Her name, as predicted, was tumbling out of your mouth as the overwhelming waves of your prolonged orgasm continued to ripple through you. You could feel her moans vibrating through your body as you rode it out, this one was mind-blowing and your brain felt frozen in this moment for way longer than the last, which you didn’t believe was possible.

Millie was still smiling when you finally gained the strength to remove yourself from her face, you were aided by Millie’s grip that was helping you move your body down to match how she was laying. You were snuggled in her arms now and this felt strangely right as your head was hidden in the crease of her neck.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson now.” She grinned, her fingers running through your sweat drenched hair.

“If anything, I’ll be shoving you more.” This gained you a swift slap to your ass and you wince immediately, your skin still sensitive from when she had you bent over her lap. This gave you the confidence you needed, you were desperate to touch her and you had been since she kissed you in the doorway. You reached your hand down the waistband of her shorts that she was still wearing, and Millie looked at you with surprise.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She protested with her tone of voice but the way her hips rose to meet your hand was anything but resistance. It was your turn to smirk now as it seemed that Millie seemingly didn’t know you well enough to know that you’d want so desperately to return the favour.

“I want to show you that your little slut can do more than making pretty noises.”

(hope everyone is ready for a part 2)

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lanawinterscigarettes · 5 months

Note

poly!Nancy Downs and Jennifer Check x reader Headcanons?

*takes you by the shoulders and gently shakes you* anon. ANON. this is exactly the kind of thing I've been needing to write, you gorgeous genius, you

Poly! Nancy Downs x reader x Jennifer Check general dating headcanons

Warnings: swearing, mentions of jealousy/possessiveness, some suggestive content

This is going to be set in a college au since I'm pretty sure the places where they went to high school are on the opposite sides of the country mkay

They both kind of kept to themselves, but in different ways. Jennifer was the hot and popular one that everyone wanted to get close to but never could and Nancy was the scary alt loner who people swore up and down was a witch (ha, if only they knew)

Because of their major social differences they didn't cross paths until you came along and brought them together like a pair of really fucked up magnets

They both went out of their way to impress you while simultaneously trying to knock each other down a peg in the process

Everywhere you went, there they were. Trying to get to class? Nancy shows up to help you with your books. Eating alone in the cafeteria? You're in luck, because Jennifer saved you a seat

You thought it was kind of cute at first but after a while it just became annoying, especially when they started getting into fights in the middle of the school day

Jennifer knew there was something occult like going on with Nancy, and Nancy could tell that Jennifer wasn't a normal college student, which did nothing but make their feud worse

Eventually you got sick of it and basically told them they needed to resolve whatever sort of homo-erotic sexual tension they had going on before you'd consider dating either of them

Surprising, it seemed as if they took your advice because when you saw them on campus the next day they were both slightly calmer and had the hickeys to prove it

It wasn't long after that the three of you officially got together (you found it easier to be stuck in a room with them after they finally got rid of whatever stick was up their asses that made them hate each other in the first place)

Both of them are extremely protective over you and almost never let you out of their sight. They both know just how cruel people can be (especially boys) so they're extremely hesitant when it comes to you going off to parties or something by yourself

On a much lighter note, you know you'll never have to worry about anyone hurting you, and if they ever do they will quickly get taken care of by your demon possessed and spell casting girlfriends 🤗

I hope you like possessiveness because that's what you'll be getting from these too. They both tend to get jealous easily, even when it comes to each other especially when it comes to each other

If one of them sees hickeys/bite marks or something that they know they didn't leave you'll soon find yourself covered in even more of them in turn

They don't get into serious fights often, but they do bicker and squabble a lot more than normal people, which is most likely due to how their dominant personalities seem to clash with one another

Usually whenever they start fighting with each other you lock them in a room by themselves until you hear the shouts turn into moans because they started having sex

Most dates are spent with the three of you together because all the times you've tried to go on a date with one of them the other "accidentally" happens to show up

Jennifer loves to take you shopping at high end boutiques whereas Nancy prefers to check out second hand thrift shops, so if you don't find something you like at one place there's a chance you'll find it at the other

(There's also a big chance you'll be forced to carry their bags for them unless you openly complain about it, so just keep that in mind)

Makeovers!! Jen dresses you up to look like a y2k baddie and Nanc turns you into a goth in the making. By the end of it you look like Regina George got into Elvira's makeup supply

Shared playlists between them are so funny because of how often the artists will switch between say Ayesha Erotica and Rob Zombie lmao (one time Jennifer caught Nancy singing the words to Emo Boy and teased her for it so she blasted Living Dead Girl for hours on end as payback)

You're not allowed to share a bed with only one of them btw. It has to be both of them or you're not sleeping at all

They can and will fight over who gets to sleep where so your best bet is just laying in the middle and letting them figure out the rest themselves

Neither of them are morning people so if you think you can get up at a reasonable hour you're sadly mistaken unless you're somehow able to untangle yourself from the mess of limbs (or if you just sleep on the couch)

Also they both look like absolute MESSES first thing in the mornings but I'll save my morning routine headcanons with them for another time hehe

They're not perfect, but considering one of them has a demon infesting her body and the other uses magic on the daily things could be much worse, so you've gotta work with what you've got when it comes to them

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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lemoniiiiiii · 17 days

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chances

(frat!kyle spencer x fem!reader)

content: fluff, angst (if you squint?), mentioned sexual harassment (by frat members)

a/n: not proofread, short drabble inspired by this post, wrote it really fast so sorry if it's not the best (it's my first time writing for kyle too so)! also, the last line is sick I'm aware I'M SORRY RYAN MURPHY POSSESSED ME

when your boyfriend kyle told you that he was joining the fraternity kappa lambda gamma you seriously thought he was joking. kyle was caring, hard-working, kind. yeah, he liked to joke around, but he was nothing like those greek alphabet degenerates you associated frats with. you told him this earnestly. it wasn't just a passing judgment, it was a genuine concern for him. trapped in a house with all those guys? kyle could handle himself well growing up in the 9th ward, but these frat guys were different to the types of people he was used to dealing with. you didn't want to see him to get hurt, or worse... start becoming like them.

when you expressed your feelings to him, kyle (of course politely) brushed your concerns off.

"give em' a chance..." he told you, caressing your head in his lap. "they're not all as bad as ya think. and even some of em' that are a bit.. y'know.. they're good people at heart, i can tell. they just hafta be put in the right direction."

"and is that why you're gonna try and become president?"

"yep! kappa lambda gamma has the potential to be one of the best chapters tulane has ever seen. that, and it gets ya some pretty awesome connections"

he was right.. a lot of past frat members had become pretty successful and kyle could use that to his advantage.

"okay fair... just, be safe okay? stick to what you know- who you are"

"oh i f'sure will" he flashed a knowing smile, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your lips. your hands found their way into his golden curls, drawing him closer for a deeper connection.

as if on cue, the moment kyle pulled away, his phone began to ring. he glanced at the screen, and an apologetic smile appeared on his lips as he answered the call, shifting slightly as if bracing for what was coming.

"whoa, whoa, whoa, ma, slow down. what's going on? i’m at a—" he hesitated, casting a quick glance your way, "—at a friend’s, i told ya already... yeah, i’ll be home soon... what? right now?" there was a brief pause before he sighed. "okay, ma. love you too."

as kyle lowered the phone, you let out a soft sigh, already knowing what was coming. "gotta go, huh?"

"yeah, i’m sorry, baby..." he took your hand gently, lifting it to his lips in one smooth motion, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin before his lips brushed your knuckles. his fingers slid between yours, intertwining, and then he leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "i’ll see you on campus, okay?"

you nodded, trying to mask the disappointment tugging at your chest. "mhm… see you," you murmured, sitting up and watching him leave.

"oh my god" your jaw dropped as kyle stepped out of the bathroom. you had gone to surprise him after move-in day, wanting to see how he was adjusting to the frat life. and oh boy did he adjust. he had the blue embroidered polo with the collar obnoxiously flipped up, a white long sleeve underneath it, rolled up to the elbows, even-

"your hair!" you gasped. kyle's once luscious curls you loved to run your hands through had now become flat and side-swept. you silently cursed yourself for ever teaching him how to use a flat iron so he could help you do your hair.

"well y'know you could say hi-" he chuckled, enjoying your reaction to his new look. "like it?"

to be honest, you didn't hate it, as much as you wanted to. kyle had a way of making anything look good. it was more what it represented that made your stomach churn.

"you certainly look the part" you said, forcing a half-smile. "all you need now is a backwards cap and a blood alcohol content of .12%"

he laughed, walking over and nudging your arm. "c'mon babe. open mind, remember?"

you sighed. "right... open mind" you glanced over him again, noticing how the fabric of his clothes hugged his frame in a way that accentuated his muscles. "okay.. you do look really hot i'm just wor-"

"gonna stop ya right there." he gently placed a hand on your arm, giving you a warm smile. "thank you. i'm happy ya came."

"i'm... happy i'm here- well, with you anyway" you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth lift. kyle just had that effect on you.

"..seriously though," you started again, looking into his eyes with a hint of concern.

kyle’s expression softened as he wrapped an arm around your lower back. "i promise it's stoppin' here, alright? all this… it's just surface level. you still have me." he gestured vaguely to his clothes and hair. "this is still the same me."

you held his gaze, trying to believe him, though a small part of you still worried that he may fall in too deep.

"please baby, give em' a chance..."

"what kind of chance?" you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "because i was violated like three different ways just walking up to your room." the words came out half-joking, but there was an edge to your tone that kyle didn’t miss.

he straightened up, eyes narrowing, and his brow furrowed with a fierce protectiveness. "what happened?"

"i'm kidding... kinda. nothing crazy just a few wandering eyes" you waved it off, though the memory of being looked up and down like that made your skin crawl for a second.

"i'll talk to em' about it. if they say or do anything else, tell me. i'll cut their fuckin' balls off" his voice was serious, and though he didn't mean it literally, you knew he would go to war for the people he cared about.

"as long as i get to watch," you giggled, leaning into him a little more.

"...any chance you’ll stop using that flat iron, though?" you asked, giving his new hairstyle a gentle tease, still missing the curls that used to frame his face.

"when i'm dead." he chuckled with a cocky grin.

"we’ll see about that."

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @heartz4peter

#guys idk what this is #i keep laughing at the last line nooooo #evan peters #evan peters fanfic #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #frat!kyle spencer #ahs #ahs coven #american horror story #pre-death!kyle spencer #evan peters fandom #evan peters imagine

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whumpsday · 3 months

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Catharsis #3: Unboxed

Masterlist

content: robot whumpee, whumpee turned whumper, defiant whumpee, violence, psychological whump

Whumpmas in July Day 9: Mind Games

i wanted to introduce each arc before continuing on with the present arc. i'll probably pop all over the place chronologically since that's how i write best!

here's 1's first day alive, though that wasn't his name at the time.

Cyrus opened his eyes for the very first time.

He was in a room in a house or apartment. It may have been his first moment of conscious thought, but he was not a human, and he was certainly not a baby. He was still in his box, he realized: he climbed out of it, brushing himself off, smoothing out the wrinkles in the disappointingly plain clothes he came dressed in. There was a man there, taking a step back. Probably the one who had turned him on.

The first strong opinion he ever had was that he was unequivocally better than the nervous man standing in front of him.

Luan, his mind supplied. His… owner’s name was Luan. He didn’t like that word, owner. It felt incongruous. Wrong. He wasn’t something to be owned, Cyrus knew that for sure. If anything, he should be the one doing the owning.

At the same time, he knew exactly what he was: a Catharsis Therapy Bot™. An expensive object to be bought and sold. A thing to act as programmed and be beaten until its owner felt better.

Cyrus frowned. That couldn’t be right at all. The only thing that felt right about any of that was that he was expensive.

“Cyrus?” Luan asked, apprehension evident in every twitch of his body. He winced immediately, like the name itself had hurt him. Pathetic.

Oh, there was no way this sniveling loser was his owner.

He found that his face moved automatically, parts shifting to match his expression to his intent as he looked on disapprovingly. “I’m better than you. This isn’t right.”

Luan’s eyes went wide for only a moment before he scowled right back. “You don’t like it when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh? Too fucking bad. You’re mine this time.”

Cyrus tried to search for what Luan meant, but he came up empty. Luan hadn’t supplied him with information on their history. On his history with… the other Cyrus.

But he didn’t need it. Luan was making it obvious enough for him to know exactly what to do and say, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So you were mine before. That makes sense, that’s where you belong.” Cyrus stepped forward and patted him on the cheek with a smirk.

Luan flinched. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re in no place to tell me what to do.” Cyrus tried to poke him in the chest to make his point.

His arm did not move.

Again, he tried, and again, nothing. Experimentally, he lifted his arm without intent to touch Luan: no issue.

He wasn’t smirking anymore.

“Oh, I think I am.” Luan pushed him hard, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Cyrus fell just next to the box, the sensors inside his skin lighting up with pain wherever he made impact–it hurt. He was sturdy, he had to be, but heavy with metal that pinched his skin. He sucked in air he didn’t need by instinct, a useless humanlike reaction he immediately found annoying, just to tint it a little worse.

Something was bubbling up inside him, and he did not like it.

“You do not fucking touch me!” he screamed, his voice shrill out of the speaker down his throat as he pushed himself back to his feet. “How dare you!? You pathetic coward! You don’t deserve to own something– someone like me, let alone… push me! You are beneath me. You are fucking nothing. You–”

Luan’s fist cracked against his cheek. He didn’t go down this time, only stumbled, but it hurt worse than the fall. He didn’t think anything could hurt worse than that. He hadn’t felt anything before. His hands went to protect his aching cheek, the words almost knocked out of him with the shock of it, but he found his place again soon enough. “You–”

“Shut up.”

Cyrus’s volume dropped straight to zero, and he found that he no longer possessed the ability to raise it.

That thing bubbling up in him only intensified, and this time it came with a pathetic urge to back away and submit. Obviously, something he would never indulge.

He glared at Luan with what he hoped was enough pointed hate to make himself clear without words.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore!” Luan hissed, rubbing his knuckles. “You’re not in charge this time! You’re the one who has to listen to what I say! You’re the one who has to take it!”

He pushed Cyrus again, harder. He fell like a stone, tripping over his box this time. He was almost glad his voice was cut, because otherwise, he would have cried out, another annoying reflex programmed to make him seem more human. Weaker, more pitiful. It was infuriating.

Water began leaking from his eyes, blurring his lenses. No, no, this wasn’t who he was. He was supposed to be the powerful one.

Luan stared at his own hands like an easily-impressed child. With every moment, Cyrus only hated him more.

He started to push himself up again, but all Luan had to say was “Stay down,” and Cyrus couldn’t do that anymore, either.

Luan grabbed him by the shirt collar. “And I don’t have to take your shit ever again. What do you have to say for yourself? Speak.”

Not only could Cyrus speak now, he couldn’t remain silent if he tried. “I hate you.”

Luan laughed, dry and joyless. “Good. Feeling’s mutual.” He let go. “You know what you’re for, right?”

“I…” Of course he knew. “Something’s wrong.”

“This is the first time it’s ever been right!” Luan corrected. His hands were shaking. Water leaked from his eyes too, Cyrus realized.

“You’re scared of me,” he put together. “You’re scared of a robot you ordered! Ha! At least some part of you knows your place.”

“Shut up!” Just as he stole Cyrus’s voice away again, Luan landed a kick in his abdomen. It was worse than the punch, a sharp sensation hitting him hard, and just like last time, he didn’t realize anything could be worse.

The terror bubbling up in him couldn’t be denied anymore. How much worse could it get? He’d only been alive for five minutes and it was already this bad.

“You know what?” Luan cut in. “This really is cathartic.”

taglist:

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event: @whumpmasinjuly

#catharsis #whump #my writing #robot whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #defiant whumpee #psychological whump #beating #wij24day9 #whumpmasinjuly2024

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elaratyrell · 10 months

Text

Poor Unfortunate Souls {Part 3/3 -> FINALE} … Jace's Version

*All images found on Pinterest. Moodboard made by yours truly*

Dark ! Ursula! Aemond x Fem! Eric! Reader x Ariel! Jacaerys

Warnings: Language probably, reader is still mind controlled, Aemond's a dick, Aemond kicks a dog but it's unharmed, non- consensual touching (Aemond's gets a little handsy {well, tentacle-y, if you get my drift}), minor angst but a happy ending!!! Not entirely proof read (yet) *Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: Jacaerys Velaryon, the reluctant heir to Atlantica. The moment he saw you, he knew he would never see someone who could capture him with their beauty again. You would haunt him eternally. In a desperate attempt to meet you, he turns to Aemond Targaryen, an outcast from the merfolk, to help him walk amongst the land dwellers. But when Aemond lays his eyes on you, he knows he has to have you. By any means necessary.

Chapter Synopsis: Jace desperately tries to stop your wedding to Aemond before sunset, but will he be able to break the spell his crazed uncle has on you? And if he does, will you feel the same way about him?

Part One Part Two Aemond's Ending

A/N: I'm sorry this has taken so long to write, I've struggled with motivation and burnout. BUT... the trailer, Harry's recent instagram posts, all of the Ewan content we've been getting over this past week and listening to the little mermaid soundtrack on repeat has relit a spark inside of me. Enjoy! Aemond's part should be published before Christmas

Jace hadn't dared to leave his room all day.

He didn't want to in fear for seeing you or Aemond.

The thought of you marrying that monster made him sick to the pit of his stomach.

And he felt embarrassed.

Embarrassed over how stupid he had been.

He should have known that Aemond had an ulterior motive. He should have known there was something else planned. Looking back on it, it was obvious that his uncle had developed a depraved obsession with you. The way he knew about you, tried to intercept him at every turn. Jace thought that Aemond just wanted him to fail but seeing that... it had made everything abundantly clear.

And now his soul was to be claimed by Aemond. And what would most certainly be an even worse fate awaited his family, his people, especially poor Luke. Aemond would save the worst for him. And you... Jace immediately shook the thought from his mind. He didn't want to think of what Aemond had in store for you.

At some point during the day, Jace had moved from leaning against the door to sitting by the window. His gaze would rest on his two legs, something that he had always dreamed of possessing, now seeming obsolete. Where he had previously looked upon them with wonder, he now looked at them with nothing short of resentment, disgusted with how his selfish impulsiveness had sealed his entire kingdom, family and the woman he loved to a terrible fate.

He regretted ever following your ship that night.

He regretted seeing you, falling for you, letting those feelings and fantasies of living on the surface with you cloud his mind.

And yet despite that, his heart sank when he saw your wedding ship leave the port from the view of his window, head resting against the glass, watching as you drifted further and further away from him. Were you feeling nervous? Happy? Did you think of him at all?

You hadn't even said goodbye.

Perhaps Jace had merely been a burden, a duty to you. Someone that you felt you needed to help, but not to care about.

His eyes squeezed shut as he felt a new wave of tears cloud his vision for what was likely the twentieth time that day. His body heaved in a silent sob, his head dropping to rest on his brought up knees.

He could only imagine the look of disappointment on his mother's face if she could only see him now. Or the cruel, mocking one that would no doubt cross Daemon's as he showed Rhaenyra that every jab he had sent Jace's way had been true. That he was nothing but a weak, unworthy prince of the realm. An unfitting heir to the throne that Aemond would likely attempt to usurp from her.

Feeling a small nudge against his cheek, Jace tilted his head to see Syrax perched on his shoulder. Perhaps it was his own tear stained vision, but it almost seemed as though she were crying too.

Jace lifted his head and attempted to give her what he hoped was a small smile, but his face shortly crumpled again, tears streaking down his cheeks. Syrax placed her claws either side of his face in a sort of hug, her head resting against his. It was strange, but it comforted him, quieting his sniffles and calming his breaths.

Yet all he really wanted was to see his mother, to feel the warmth of her embrace one last time. To amend their relationship that had been fracturing for some time now.

The somewhat tender moment was interrupted by a loud smacking thud against the window, causing Jace to jump and Syrax to almost slip and fall from his shoulder.

Jace hastily leaned forward to unlock and open the window to let a very distressed Cannibal into the room, the bird squawking loudly as he landed on Jace's knee.

Jace attempted to calm the bird down, but nothing seemed to work. Cannibal hopped of the prince's knee, hovering in the air, as though miming himself flying in the sky. He then suddenly dived onto the unmade bed, hiding behind the bedpost, staring at the ground like he were spying on something.

Jumping onto the bedroom floor, he covered his left eye with his wing, his beak upturned in an almost sinister grin as he let out a choked squawk that bordered on a laugh, pointing at his chest with his other wing. Hopping to face the other way, he pinned his wings by his side, wiggling his body from side to side.

Jace rose to his feet and hurried over to the desk, grabbing a sheet of parchment. He opened the ink bottle, dipping the quill inside several times before scrawling onto the parchment. Black ink dropped onto the parchment, and his handwriting was nothing short of a scratchy sprawl that was just about readable. He lifted the parchment to show Cannibal and Syrax, who had joined the bird on the floor.

'Aemond and Vhagar?'

Cannibal squawked loudly, jumping in the air, covering his head in an almost facepalm.

Jace's brows were furrowed in evident confusion as he watched Cannibal try to get his point across again.

He hopped to the side, raising his wing over his head, feathers arranged to mimic your hair.

'Y/N?'

Cannibal nodded with another squawk before continuing.

He walked a few steps pretending to be you before resuming his Aemond persona, creeping up behind where he had been you seconds before, once again letting out that strange laugh, his wing patting his chest as though holding something. His other wing stretched out towards where you would be standing, feathers wiggling slightly. From an outside perspective, the sight would look almost comical, but Jace was too concerned over what Aemond could be up to properly notice.

'Aemond's necklace?'

The bird nodded again before flapping to the dresser and grabbing the dinglehopper resting atop it, holding it in one wing and up in the air jabbing it in random directions across the room.

'My mother? Her trident?'

Cannibal dropped the fork, returning to being Aemond once again and picking it up, then miming placing a crown atop his head.

'Aemond is going to steal the throne from my mother?'

Clearly growing impatient, Cannibal flew up to hover in front of Jace's face, squawking loudly at him before returning to the ground and bringing his wings together.

Jace placed the parchment down, his expression clearing as he grabbed the quill again, hand trembling slightly as he brought it down.

'Has he cast a spell on her? So I fail by sunset and he can then use my soul to trap my mother for the throne?'

Cannibal cawed softly, his head bowing in a single nod.

Jace dragged a hand through his curls, his jaw clenching and eyes steeling in resolve. He grabbed Syrax, stuffing the crab in his pocket before bolting out the room, Cannibal hot on his tail.

Upon reaching the port, he placed Syrax down on the ground, his chest heaving in deep breaths from sprinting down there. The setting sun was cast on the water's surface, making it seem like liquid gold. The boat, your wedding boat, was sailing towards the horizon.

Before the sun sets on the third day...

He didn't have much time, but he knew he had to at least try to save you from Aemond, even if he couldn't save himself.

Without hesitating, he leaped rather clumsily into the water, hearing Cannibal's squawk of alarm before sinking into the cold depths below.

It was a strange feeling, opening his eyes to the stinging rush of the water blinding him, arms flailing to keep himself afloat and break through the surface to breathe. He had no co ordination in his legs, which desperately kicked out beneath him to propel himself upwards.

He couldn't swim.

He suddenly felt himself being pushed upwards towards the surface, soon feeling the sun's dwindling warmth as he broke through, letting out choked splutters as oxygen filled his lungs again. Cannibal was hovering overhead, Syrax now balanced on one of the many barrels she had no doubt cut free to help support him, and Vermax appeared beside him, guiding him towards it.

He nodded in thanks to his companion, holding onto the barrel and resting his head against it as he caught his breath, wet curls plastered on his forehead.

Syrax dived beneath the water. When she resurfaced, she had the rope tied around the barrel between her claws, which she then tied around Vermax, pointing towards the boat. Jace began to kick out with his legs to help his friend while Cannibal flew off, loudly screeching as he did so. Jace's gaze was fixed on the boat, his kicks growing more and more forceful.

Syrax watched them for a short while, making sure they were on track to hopefully reach the boat in time before diving underwater once again and swimming in a different direction to find Rhaenyra.

The boat had seemed to come to a stop, making Jace and Vermax's journey that much easier. But as they grew closer to the grand vessel, far more impressive than the ship he had saved you from what now seemed like years ago, the soft melodies from the musicians sent a ripple of sickness through him.

The ceremony must have begun.

He had hoped that he could find you alone without involving any of your people. He didn't want to expose he or Aemond to them. That could give Daemon the excuse he needed to declare war on the surface, and he had enough issues to deal with as it was.

But you were the priority for the moment.

One problem at a time.

If he had to interrupt the ceremony and attract the entire kingdom's attention, that's what he would do.

Vermax pulled him to where the anchor was docked so he could grab the chain to pull himself up towards the deck. The metal dug uncomfortably into his palms, but he held on tightly nonetheless as he turned to his closest companion, giving him a small smile. He held out a hand for the fish to lean his head against for a moment before beginning to climb.

Whether that would be a bittersweet farewell or a simple a brief goodbye would remain to be seen.

Every one of his muscles ached and burned with fatigue as he continued his climb, but he still persisted, fuelled by his determination to save you from Aemond's clutches. He glanced down as he reached the deck, only to find Vermax gone, the barrel floating away, the rope untied, the water directly beneath him rippling slightly from someone- or thing- sinking beneath the surface.

Jace peered over the top of the deck, watching as you walked down the aisle. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, of how breathtaking you looked. Any warmth he felt from seeing you disappeared when his gaze moved to where Aemond stood waiting for you, a small, yet rather smug, smirk on his face, arms clasped behind his back. His platinum locks were half tied back out of his face, a leather patch covering his scarred eye. He was dressed entirely in black leather, and seemed as though he would be more suited for a funeral rather than a wedding, a stark contrast to your angelic beauty.

Following you was Max, carrying a blue velvet cushion in his mouth to a chorus of aws from the crowd. He placed the cushion between you and Aemond, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he glared up at the latter. Yet you just stood there, staring blankly straight ahead. Aemond glanced towards the crowd for a moment before gesturing to the officiant to begin.

"Dearly beloved..."

Seeing everyone distracted, Aemond took that opportunity to kick Max away, the dog whimpering softly but appearing unharmed as he stalked away to sit by Grimsby. As Aemond had raised his leg, a flash of metal caught Jace's attention, and he just about managed to see a glimpse of the dragon glass dagger strapped to Aemond's side beneath his overcoat. His hands gripped the side of the ship tightly, cheeks flushed scarlet in anger as he watched Aemond grab your hands tightly, his eye raking your figure in a most sinful way, practically undressing you with his eyes.

Swinging a leg over the side of the boat, Jace crept onto the deck of the boat as quietly as he could, crouching down to sneak behind the back row.

"Do you, Aemond, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Jace heard Aemond reply, an air of smugness in his tone. And he had every right to be. The sun was nearly set beneath the horizon. Jace wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but he needed to act now.

A soft squawk above Jace alerted the prince, and he glanced up to see Cannibal flying overhead, followed by an entire flock of gulls. Jace followed the bird's gaze to where Aemond was stood, too engrossed by you to notice.

Until they dove towards him, that is, attacking on his left side.

Aemond managed to duck before they reached him though, glaring at the flock as they circled back around, no doubt for a second attempt.

The distraction allowed for Jace to edge around to the opposite side of the boat to get towards you. As he crept closer and closer, he heard cries of alarm in the crowd, followed by a scream as a heard of sea lions flopped onboard.

Jace ducked down behind a chair to avoid Aemond's gaze, the guests having since ran from their seats to escape the animal's path, leaving you and Aemond stood at the alter. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jace saw your guards raise their weapons to the animals.

He pushed the chair out of the way, standing between them and the sea lions, hands outstretched as he frantically shook his head at them.

"Stop! Don't shoot!" Grimsby had pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Do not shoot. They won't harm her!"

"You!"

Jace turned to meet Aemond's glare, trying not to let the way you had grabbed your captor's arm for protection get to him.

'She is under a spell. She doesn't love him', he reminded himself, but it stung all the same.

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment a circling pelican swooped down and dump its full beak of water on top of Aemond, drenching him completely. Aemond opened his good eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. There was a still silence so thick that even the strongest of swords could struggle to cut through.

Once again, Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but all that left his mouth was a yelp of pain as Max bit down on his leg. He kicked out his leg in an attempt to wrestle the dog off of him, but the animal's jaws were like a vice.

"Max! Max, let go now!" You yelled, glaring down at the dog, who slowly loosened his hold on Aemond, shrinking away from you.

Aemond smirked at Jace, despite his appearance, gesturing to the nearly disappeared sun.

Jace stepped towards you, his hand reaching out to brush against your upper arm. You turned to face him, the expression on your face one of pure indifference. Max crept behind jace, nuzzling against his other hand for comfort.

"Yes?" You raised an eyebrow.

Jace desperately searched his mind for anything, anything, that he could do to break Aemond's hold. But how could he? He wasn't educated in magic. He knew nothing of it. And he couldn't even try to talk to you in hopes of getting through to you.

A loud, shrill squawk behind you cause both you and Jace's gaze to turn to where Aemond had now grabbed Cannibal by the throat, the bird's beak clamped down on his pendant, glowing a vivid sapphire blue.

Of course.

The realisation dawned on Jace.

Aemond's source of magic.

He moved past you, crashing into Aemond and sending the both of them crashing to the floor. Upon impact, Aemond let go of Cannibal, sending the bird flying along with the pendant, which landed on the ground. Separated from the user of its magic, it shattered on impact with the boat's deck. From the shards of dragon glass arose a small ball of blue light, Jace's voice singing that song echoing from within as it floating towards him, leaving a small plume of blue smoke in its wake.

Jace watched as your hand came to clutch your head, your eyes flashing a vivid blue for a moment as the spell over you broke. You glanced down at your dress, before looking back up, a look of pure confusion on your face. Aemond had staggered to hit feet, glaring at Jace.

He let the voice float towards him, his voice growing louder the closer it came, circling around him and rising upward until it reached his throat, the light fading but the song growing stronger, this time coming from Jace.

Gone was the burning pain in his throat whenever he would open his mouth, or the constant sore hoarseness that brewed at the back of his mouth. Instead, he finally felt complete. There wasn't the feeling of having a sort of compression inside of him, the barrier had been lifted.

He turned to you, a smile spreading across his face as you stepped towards him, that usual warmth in your eyes replacing the vacantness that Aemond had created.

You came to stand in front of him. "Jace? It... it was really you?" Your voice was quiet, but thick with emotion.

Jace reached out, taking your hand in his slightly trembling on. "It's me."

You smiled warmly up at him. "I knew it," You whispered. "A part of me... it knew you were the one." Your grip on his hand tightened slightly as you pulled him closer towards you.

"Y/N, get away from him," Aemond growled, but you didn't listen. You didn't even grant him the courtesy of looking in his direction, keeping your eyes locked with Jace's.

"Y/N, I wanted to tell you... I couldn't he..." Jace tried to explain, but you shushed him, his forehead resting against yours.

"It's okay, Jace. It's okay," You whispered, taking his head in your hands.

"Y/N, no!"

Jace's ignored Aemond, his gaze flickering briefly down to your lips. He knew he needed to kiss you, but couldn't bring himself to do it without you wishing it. But you smiled, giving him a nod, tilting your head towards him slightly.

Jace leaned forwards, his lips a breath away from yours when a searing pain cut straight up his legs, causing him to crumple to the ground in your arms.

"Jace? Jace, what's wrong?" You asked. "Your leg?"

"No, no don't..." He weakly pleaded as you rolled his trouser leg up

He gritted his teeth in pain, his entire body tensed as he watched the skin on his legs shed into scales.

"What the... you're... you're a merman?" You whispered, eyes widened in shock.

"I tried to tell you..." Jace replied, ripping his trousers off to free his fully reformed tail. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

"Jace..."

"You're too late, nephew."

Jace looked up as Aemond came to stand in the centre of the deck, the triumphant smirk returning to his face. "You're too late," He chuckled darkly thunder rumbling overhead. A bolt of blue lightning crashed down and struck Aemond directly, and when the flash faded, Aemond had also returned to his natural form, those six tentacles replacing his legs to a chorus of gasps from the crowd.

One of his tentacles suddenly shot out and grabbed Jace by the tail, dragging him towards the edge of the boat and throwing him overboard.

"Leave him alone!" You yelled, rising to your feet and moving to follow them, but Aemond's tentacles kept you back.

"I apologise that our union was rudely interrupted, ñuha dārilaros," He smirked at you, one tentacle wrapping around your waist and pulling you to him as he ripped off his eyepatch to reveal the sapphire underneath. He knew that you would not look upon it with disgust like everyone else did. "But do not worry..." He continued, another tentacle creeping under your dress and up your leg. As the tip brushed against your clothed cunt, you let out a small gasp, causing his smirk to widen. "I will return for you soon... and I have every intention of making you mine..."

And with that, he released you and dove overboard.

Jace hadn't managed to swim far.

Not with Vhagar circling the shape, the massive beast circling him, trapping him for when Aemond joined them, that blue eye of hers glowing dimmer than before, but still glowing nonetheless.

"Poor, poor prince," Aemond's mocking tone alerted Jace to his arrival. "Poor little nephew."

"Do not mock me, uncle!" Jace exclaimed, hands clenched into fists by his side as Vhagar disappeared into the kelp below. "You cheated."

"Hm..." Aemond tilted his head to the side. "I do not recall our contract saying that I could not interfere. Love comes with its challenges and I merely wished-"

"No. You wanted her and used me to get to her. And then so you could kill me!" Jace interrupted.

"Don't be so dramatic, nephew," Aemond smirked, a tentacle grabbing his arm to pull him along behind him. "It is not even you that I am after. Not really anyway. There's a much bigger fish that I have to-"

"Aemond!"

The exiled prince's smirk widened as he turned to face Rhaenyra, her trident pointing directly at his throat.

"Sister," He greeted. "How are you?"

"Let my son go." She demanded, her eyes alight with a fire that concealed the worry behind them.

"Not a chance, sister," Aemond replied, his hold on Jace tightening. "He's mine now. We made a deal." His voice progressively grew in its mocking tone as he brandished the gold scroll with Jace's contract on. Rhaenyra's gaze scanned the scroll, her expression contorting to one of horror.

"I-I'm sorry, mother! I... I'm sorry, he-"

"Hush now, nephew. Can you not see we are having a conversation?" Aemond interrupted him, another tentacle wrapped around Jace's mouth to silence him. "Now, sister, where were we?"

Rhaenyra glared at Aemond, and pointed her trident at where the scroll was dangling from his grasp, a jet of gold light striking it with the intention of destroying it, but instead it harmlessly rebounded, the scroll now glowing bright blue.

"You see, sister? The contract's legal. Binding and completely unbreakable," Aemond replied smugly. "Even for you." He smirked, knowing he had her trapped. This was a plan, years in the making, finally being executed. And it was so satisfying for Aemond to watch unfold. "Of course, I always was someone with an eye for a bargain, so to speak. And the son of the great, powerful queen of the oceans is a rather precious commodity, do you not think?"

He relaxed his tentacles, both the contract and Jace being released, but before the prince could swim to Rhaenyra, the scroll stretching and fading into blue light which then surrounded Jace, spinning around him like a tornado.

"But, I also consider myself as reasonable, and I could be willing to make an exchange for someone... for something... even better..." Aemond added, a tentacle reaching out towards Rhaenyra's crown, making her flinch away from him in disgust.

"If you think..." Rhaenyra began, but when her gaze shifted to Jace, she faltered.

The light surrounding Jace had grown brighter as it slowly drained his strength, the prince beginning to shrink, his face hollowing and skin shrivelling. Yet he still managed to shake his head at his mother, despite knowing that it would likely prove pointless.

Aemond smirked at the sight, a new contract appearing before Rhaenyra. "Do we have a deal?"

"Mother... don't..." Jace gasped out, but Rhaenyra simply gave her son a small smile, raising her trident once again and with another flash of gold, her name was signed at the bottom.

"It's done," Aemond murmured, the scroll rolling itself up and disappearing. He waved his hand, and the blue whirlpool surrounding Jace grew and moved to instead enclose around Rhaenyra. The light burned harsher, shrinking and shrinking before dissipating to reveal Rhaenyra, once the proud ruler of Atlantica, nothing more than another soul claimed by Aemond, a grotesque creature identical to the hundreds of others trapped in Aemond's lair.

Jace swam over to where Rhaenyra was, her sad eyes gazing up at him as he shook his head. "Mother... I'm so... oh gods, I'm so sorry..." He bowed his head, eyes squeezed shut. When he lifted his head, Syrax had joined him, her whole form bowed down before her companion, who could only stare.

Aemond chuckled cruelly at Jace, lifting Rhaenyra's crown to place atop his own head. "At last... it's mine.." He murmured, lifting the trident as Jace turned to glare up at him.

"You are not even the heir!"

"I will be by the rising of dawn, taoba!" Aemond snarled in response. "When I eradicate Rhaenyra's entire lineage, the throne will be mine."

"Then Aegon will-"

"You think my drunken fool of a brother would dare oppose me?" Aemond tilted his head to the side. "Naïve, nephew. So naïve."

"You're a monster!" Jace spat at him, lunging forwards, but Aemond's tentacle smacked into him and sent him flying to the seafloor.

"Monster? No, nephew. A monster is the fool who banished me when her brat of a son removed my eye. A monster is the so called just and noble queen who banished me for demanding retribution for my permanent scarring. A monster... is responsible for the death of my mother, and she sealed the fate she is now subject to the day she sent me away." He pointed the trident towards Jace. "So don't you think for a second, nephew, that you can fool with me by branding me the monster. You foolish, little-" Aemond suddenly let out a grunt of pain, his free hand flying to where blood clouded the water from the graze on his upper arm.

Jace looked behind his uncle, spotting you several metres away, glaring at Aemond. Beside Jace, was a spear lodged into the seabed.

"Y/N, get back to the surface-" Jace began, but a tentacle clamped back around his mouth.

Aemond sent his nephew a small smirk as he raised his trident towards you. "What do you think nephew? Hm, it is tempting. However... even if someone doesn't seem to love you at first, there are other ways that you can claim them mentally... and physically." His lips curled into a grin as you shrank back slightly. "Yes, I can just put her under my spell again, and in time, she may return my love for her. But whether she does or doesn't is irrelevant... she'll be mine... and never yours, nephew."

Jace once again lunged towards Aemond, but was pinned down by several more tentacles.

"Oh nephew, do not humiliate yourself," He smirked, moving the trident slowly. Your gaze followed its path to where the ship was floating above the water a distance away, your face contorting into one of pure anger. You immediately began swimming as fast as you could to the surface.

"Vhagar, tolī zirȳla!" Aemond exclaimed, his beast emerging from the undergrowth on his orders. [after her]

Jace thrashed around, but his restraints held firm, rendering him helpless. He could only watch as you broke the surface for a mere moment, managing to splutter out something towards the boat before Vhagar dragged you back down again, her tail wrapping around you like a boa constrictor.

"I wish for you to witness this, ," Aemond said to you, once again pointing his trident to the ship. "I love you... but that does not mean I cannot hurt you."

Jace desperately strained against Aemond's hold, managing to break his arm free. He leaned forward, using all of his strength to grab the only thing he could.

Aemond's hair.

He yanked on it as hard and fast at he could, causing Aemond to grunt in pain as his head was rapidly pulled back, knocking him off balance just as the trident glowed gold, causing a flash to shoot out from the trident away from the boat. Instead, it struck Vhagar directly in the heart, causing the beast to explode into nothing more than a few shredded scales that floated to the seabed.

"No... Vhagar..." Aemond breathed, outstretching his hand to where she was, her scales falling onto his hand.

Jace pushed the tentacles off of him, hurriedly swimming over to where you were once again making your way to the surface. He pushed you upwards, one hand resting on your waist as he helped you.

You let out a choked gasp as you grabbed ahold of the small rowboat you had used to reach Jace, letting out a series of coughs.

Jace kept his hold on your waist. "Are you alright?" He asked worriedly, and you nodded in response, air filling your lungs.

"Yes... yes I... I'm fine..."

"Y/N, you need to get out of her," Jace urged.

"No, Jace-"

"You don't understand-"

"I can't leave you!" You insisted, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. "I'm not leaving you..."

"Y/N, I-" Jace began, but his gaze travelled to the water surrounding you both.

Even with just the silver glow of the moon and the distant light from the boat, he could tell it was clouded black with ink.

"Y/N... you need to get back to the ship-" Jace began, but a trembling beneath you both stopped him in his tracks.

"Jace, what-" You let out a gasp as you and Jace were both lifted from the water, separated by the spike of a crown. You gripped hold of the metal tightly, refusing to look away from Jace as Aemond emerged from the water.

"Jump!" Jace yelled, reaching over and grabbing her hand, the both of them leaping down beneath the waves.

Jace immediately pulled you protectively behind him as you stared up at Aemond towering above you. He must have been at least twenty feet tall, his eyes alight with pure, unbridled fury.

"You are a fool, nephew," He sneered at Jace, voice deep and booming louder than any thunder that rumbled in the storm clouds overheard. A tentacle came crashing down between the two of you, causing Jace to push you away out of its path.

"I now rule the ocean, Jacaerys! Even the waves obey my every whim! The sea, and all it's spoils will now bow to my power. And you... you will face my wrath," A wide grin now appeared on his face as he raised the trident and brought it down into the water, circling it around Jace to create a whirlpool around the prince sending him spiralling to the seabed, the water ensnaring him, trapping him on a rock. Lightning lit up the sky, the waves growing more violent, sweeping you further and further away from Jace and closer towards Aemond. All around you, wrecked ship broke through the surface, the barnacle encrusted wood rotting and the faded sails torn.

You grabbed ahold of a ship that swept by, holding onto the wood as tightly as you could, small splinters digging into the flesh of your palm. As the ship swerved away from Aemond, you took the opportunity to climb aboard. It seemed relatively newer than the other resurfaced wreckages, despite it's dire condition. Grabbing ahold of the wheel that was spinning out of control, you looked over to where Aemond was shooting lightning down at Jace from the trident.

"Just hold on a little while longer, Jace," You murmured, turning the wheel with the current and towards Aemond. Fortunately for you, the waves were heading directly towards him, the strong winds propelling you forward.

"Come now, nephew. You cannot evade this fate!" Aemond taunted. "Do not worry, I will take good care of her. So much for your true love, hm?"

He raised the trident once again, but before he could bring it down upon Jace, you steered the boat directly into him, the bowsprit, jagged from being broken, impaling him directly in the gut. Aemond yelled out in pain as you jumped off the ship, swimming away as fast as you could against the current. Turning back for a moment, you saw Aemond fall back as lightning shot through him, his eyes rolling back as he sank beneath the waves with a violent crash, sending a mass tidal wave that swept you along with it. You were smothered by the wave, only managing to resurface for long enough to take another gasp of air before being dragged under again.

You waited it out, managing to stay afloat as the wave calmed, treading the water as you looked behind you for any sight of Jace.

But all you saw was dark blue smoke billowing upwards towards the sky.

You let out a deep breath, keeping your head above the water as you kicked towards the beach, visibly close. The moment your feet made contact with the seabed, you practically crawled onto the sand, every muscle, every bone, every cell in your body completely exhausted.

"Y/N!"

Your head turned to the side to see Grimsby and Max running towards you from further down the beach, the ship a short distance away. The wave must have swept them up as well.

"Grim..." You murmured, gripping onto his arm tightly as he helped you to your feet, Max jumping up at you, glad that you were back to being yourself again. You gave him a soft smile, gently stroking his head.

"Oh heavens. Y/N, are you alright?"

"Fine..." You replied, glancing down at your tattered dress, completely soaked through.

"Come, now, princess. We must get you in a warm bath, and fresh clothes-"

"No! Grimsby, I need to wait for Jace and see if he's okay."

"Y/N, as your closest advisor, I strongly... well... advise... that you at least get some food in your stomach."

You sighed, still staring out at the horizon.

"If you survived, I have no doubt that he did as well," Grimsby said gently.

"Fine," You muttered. "I'll go and change. But you're staying here to look out for him."

"A-as you wish... but Y/N, will you not need help to get to the castle-"

"No," You replied firmly, already trudging up to the castle, your bare feet dragging slightly on the sand, Max right on your heels.

Carlotta was anxiously waiting by the castle gates upon your arrival, rushing over to you and immediately fussing over your rather bedraggled appearance. You brushed her off, walking to your chambers to change.

You felt sick to the stomach at the white shirts, the blue dresses and black trousers... anything in those colours that only reminded you of Aemond... of what he had done...

You threw them out of your wardrobe, ordering Johanna to wash them and take them into town to donate to anyone who needed them.

"May I make a suggestion, princess?" Carlotta spoke up.

"I would appreciate that," You sighed.

"I have the perfect one for you," She smiled knowingly, waiting for you to step aside so she could reach into the wardrobe, taking a hanger from the rail and holding it up to you. "Well? What do you think, princess?"

"I think..." You murmured, cocking your head to the side in contemplation. "That it's perfect."

Jace had watched as the whirlpool around him disappeared. He had seen Aemond collapse, watched as he sank out of view. Swimming to where he had fallen, he found his uncle, now back to his usual size, a rather large wound to his abdomen staining the water with a reddish hue. He reached down, taking the crown off his head, looking down at it.

He couldn't imagine it atop his head.

Feeling a warm hand rest on his shoulder, he turned to find his mother, restored to her full self, smiling down at him.

"Mother..." He murmured. "I... I'm so..." He bowed his head, letting out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, Jace," Rhaenyra tilted his chin upwards. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you away. Destroyed you beautiful collection. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me," He whispered, immediately being pulled into her warm embrace. He immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly. When they broke apart, he reached down to where the trident laid several feet away from Aemond, holding it out to his mother, who took it from him with an appreciative smile.

"I can't... become king..." He sighed. "Not... not here."

"I know, my darling," Rhaenyra sighed, her free hand resting on his cheek. "The matter of my heir will be settled in due time-"

"Baela would be a good candidate," Jace spoke up.

"Indeed she would," Rhaenyra softly smiled.

"Jace? You're alive!" Luke exclaimed as he swam over.

"Luke, I told you to stay at the palace."

"I did, mother. I stayed for half an hour, and then left to follow you," He replied, faltering slightly as he saw Aemond's corpse. He stared down at the body, letting out a small scoff. "Well thank the gods," He muttered.

"Luke," Rhaenyra warned.

"He was a monster, mother. He tried to kill me!"

"Well, he's dead now. Thanks to your brother."

"Actually, it wasn't me," Jace piped up. "It was Y/N's."

"Y/N?"

Jace sighed, glancing up to where the water's surface was glowing orange with the dawn.

"Jace?"

"I need to show you something."

"Jace... if this is going where I think it is-"

"Please," Jace's eyes were pleading. "Please, mother."

Rhaenyra shared a glance with Luke, who nodded in encouragement. She let out a small sigh. "Very well."

Jace could sense Rhaenyra apprehension as they looked out towards the beach, the rocky shore that had greeted him after making his deal with Aemond separating them from the land.

"Is that her?" Luke asked, pointing towards where you were hurrying down the beach. All Jace could do was nod in response, his lips parted slightly as he gazed at you in awe.

You were dressed in a glittering red gown, the bottom of the skirt grasped in your hand. It had thin straps across your shoulders and a cowl neckline, hugging your curves perfectly. Your hair was loose, and still damp, your face void of any makeup, those ruby earrings you bought at the market dangling from your ears.

And to Jace, you had never looked more beautiful.

"Nice," Luke grinned with an approving nod, earning a glare from both his mother and older brother. "She's pretty..." He mumbled.

Jace swam forward, hoisting himself up on a rock, the very same rock that he sat on when he'd saved you on your birthday. He watched you walk along the beach, your gaze fixed on the horizon, Max barking happily at your feet.

"What is that?" Luke exclaimed. "It's all... weird and hairy!"

"Hush now, Luke," Rhaenyra murmured, her gaze resting on her eldest son. There was a soft smile on her face, but her eyes were brimmed with sadness. "He really does love her, doesn't he?"

"Must do," Luke replied. "I mean, he was ready to sell us to Aemond for her so... ow!" He yelped as Syrax, who had joined them on a nearby rock, pinched his arm in disapproval.

"He does, doesn't he?" Rhaenyra repeated her question, this time directing it towards her companion, who nodded in response.

"I was never truly permitted to be free and lead my own life," She mused. "It was expected of me to take the throne, I was raised for it. And there was no other worthy heir to claim it in my stead. It is just a shame... that it took him going to Aemond of all people to make me realise that I should not expect my children to suffer that same fate." She nodded to herself. "I suppose only one problem that remains..."

"And... what is that?" Luke asked, gently rubbing his reddened arm from where Syrax had pinched him.

"How much I am going to miss him..." She sighed.

Luke gazed up at his mother as she lowered the tip of the trident down on the oceans surface, casting a small ripple that grew as it came closer to Jace, the water surrounding the rock glowing gold.

Jace looked down as the gold consumed his tail, turning back to his mother in shock that soon turned into a soft smile as the light consumed him.

Max let out an excited bark, taking off down the beach, you hot on his tail.

You stepped into the water, the gentle waves lapping around your ankles and your free hand coming to shield your eyes from the bright light. When it faded, you expected to see Jace, but you were greeted with nothing.

Your shoulders heaved in a silent sigh, your head shaking in disappointment as you turned away, but Max letting out another bark caused you to turn back, a wide smile spreading across your face.

Jace emerged from beneath the waves. He was walking towards you on legs, dressed in a crisp white shirt and burgundy trousers, his chocolate brown curls fluttering in the sea breeze.

The moment he laid eyes on you, he broke out into a run, with you rushing towards him as well, throwing yourself into his arms. Jace lifted you up and span your around, his hold on you tight, as though you would slip from his grasp again.

But you weren't going to let go.

When he placed you back on the ground, Max excitedly circling around you both as you took his face in your hands and pressed your lips to his.

Jace immediately sank into the kiss, his heart fluttering.

"I love you," He murmured as you broke apart, his forehead resting on yours.

You smiled, hands sliding upwards to tangle in his curls. "And I love you, Jace. So much," You whispered.

A/N: One more part left...

…All I'm going to say is I hope you enjoyed the sweetness of this ending because Aemond's ending is going to be complete filth.

Hint: it involves tentacles.

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cemeterygirlrocks · 1 year

Text

IM CRAZIER — JOE GOLDBERG

Summary; He’s crazy, but you can be crazier.

Contents; Begging, slightly sub!joe, slight dacryphilia, pain kink, p in v, unprotected sex, edging, black fem reader, possessive reader, reader has female anatomy, reader has glasses in this, but you can pretend she doesn’t if you don’t have them.

It was your big pouty lips that drew him in, the way you looked while being lost in a book. You were everything he wanted in a women, he had to have you, it could only be you.

The way you smelled, mm. You smelt like vanilla, subtle though, he hated the strong scent. He loved when you changed your hairstyles, felt like he was meeting a different part of you every time.

The blonde, the brown, but he really liked when you went outside basic colors. Joe hoped to see you in blue maybe, it was his favourite color.

Well that’s what he told you.

You didn’t know whether it was true or not, he always just wanted to please you and lying about his preferred color was something he would certainly do.

Joe wondered what you were like outside of the library, and it was hard to find you. You were always home, he liked that.

Stalking you wasn’t enough, he had to see you outside his place of work, you were all he ever wanted.

Your black glasses framed your face perfectly, it blended well with your perfect skin tone.

The first interaction you guys had was when you took out a scientific book; what keeps scientists up at night.

He knew you were smart, the way your smile grew brighter when he complimented your book. Joe knew nothing about it, but he could pretend he did.

You seemed to liked him. He had a nerdy vibe, pathetic almost. Drove you in, and he knew right then and there he was yours.

You couldn’t help but stay around his workplace later than you needed to, growing jealous when he talked to another woman. You didn’t know he was already taken; by you of course.

It got worse as the weeks went by, when you saw a girl write her number down and slide it onto the table he was sitting at you just happened to pop up, crumbling it before he even caught a glance.

He didn’t know what you would do for him, he was yours. You didn’t care whether he thought so or not, he was going to eventually.

When you guys bumped into each other outside where you usually did, it wasn’t on purpose on your end, neither was it on his.

“H-Hey! Y/n right? It’s me, Joe.” He gave you a cheeky smile, how cute, “Mhm, you work at the library.”

Joe fell in love with the way you responded so carelessly, but he knew while you said so few words they were laced with the love you had for him.

He was convinced you were obsessed with him, oh how he was right.

While itching the back of his head his eyes fell towards your chest. You wore it just for him, but he didn’t know that.

You were perfect to him, no flaws in sight.

“I was wondering, you wanna get some coffee? I know a great place.” Your eyes darkened at his slight plea for your heart, “Of course, tomorrow at 3?”

It’s like he couldn’t breathe, time had stopped and you were the only thing he could see.

“I’ll come get yo—why don’t we just meet at the library?” Your smile softened, you didn’t even realize the mess he thought he got himself into.

You made him so hot and bothered, he couldn’t help but hump his pillow imagining it was you. Tears springing in his eyes as he wouldn’t let himself cum, needing your permission somehow.

Joe hadn’t came in weeks, he didn’t wanna disappoint you. You saw it all through his window, how stupid he was to keep his blinds open.

Like he wanted you to see how much of a mess you made him. You saw, and you knew.

Made your panties get slick with your wetness, he didn’t know what he was getting himself into testing you.

You just wanted to caress his skin, scratch him, bite him. Show him just how he made you feel.

The two of you hit it off at the cafe, it was bound to happen. Both of you had researched everything about each other, knowing all of the opposites interests.

It was only right that you guys ended up together, it was either that or you’d be together in death.

2 weeks had past since you guys made it official, you made him wait. Everybody had said he plotted on you, not knowing how long you had been watching him since you even went into the library.

It was all apart of your plan. Joe was coming over, all you ever wanted to do was make him beg, make him tell you that you were the only one.

Even though you knew that already, if there was somebody else you would know.

A knock on the door made you smile, you were already dressed the part.

Pretty black heels, along with your favourite black and pink matching set. He loved your ass and tits, every single part of you made him feel like blowing up.

Joe kissed you on the lips, not even realizing what you had on. He was just too obsessed with your pretty little face. Til he realized you weren’t always this tall, he looked down, immediately feeling warmth spring up to his cheeks.

“You like it sweetie? Just for you.” Grabbing his hand you walked him through your apartment. He already knew what it looked like the second day he met you.

“Just for me huh?” His voice came out in on breath, like he was suffocating. Joe hadn’t came for months, the only thing you would do with him was kiss.

He didn’t mind, anything with you was something big for him.

“Sit down baby, but first. Undress will you?” You watched as his eyes lit up, a small smile creeping onto his face. Those pretty big eyes, looking straight at you while he stripped.

Joe didn’t know what you really wanted, so he just took off his pants and shirt, left in his boxers. You already knew what he looked like, the size and the shape.

“All of it Joe, don’t be dumb now.” He cherished how you talked to him, like he was just an ordinary dude.

But he knew, he knew he was everything to you.

“M’sorry.” Joe mumbled, his hard on slapping against his stomach. All you did was watch him, leaning against your dresser.

Slowly stepping out of the heels he bought you, your pretty baby pink toes made their appearance.

He was already oozing pre cum, you knew your baby was soo close. “You better not cum, Joesph. Sit on the bed.”

A whine fell loose, but he obeyed. Doing exactly what you asked. Slowly crawling up towards him, you were perked up between in legs, massaging the inside of his thighs.

Made him whimper, his pink bottom lip just begging to be bit down on.

“Fuck please, please touch me Y/n.” Tilting your head to the side, you frowned, “Is this not enough for you? Am I not doing enough?”

Before he could even form a reply you slapped him, the harsh touch making his eyes water and his cock twitch.

You couldn’t help but giggle, softly rubbing the spot in circles.

“You’re a bad boy, oh but you liked that didn’t you? Hm Joe? Tell me.”

He let out a choked moan, his eyes low and dark. The man nodded before he could even let words out.

“I love it, you know I do,” He moved his hair out of his face, just to see you more clearly, “Do it again? Fuck please mama.”

You caressed his thighs, before your sharp short french tips ruined his pretty pale skin.

“Mmf-fuck, hurts.” You laughed softly, “Oh baby I know, you want me to stop?” You didn’t even finish your sentence before he begged you not to.

Harshly gripping the base of his cock, his head hitting the back of your headboard when your cold hand made contact with him.

“Please, o-oh fuck please, please.” He didn’t know what he was begging for. Release? More pain? Joe didn’t know.

You were going so fast, his body couldn’t control itself.

The tears were welling up, but when you kitten licked his tip the man’s brain got fuzzy, his vision fogging up.

He hadn’t even realized you unclipped your bra, letting his cum coat your pretty big tits. “Baby? You did so good, but look.” He blinked for a few seconds, regaining his eyesight.

Joesph still was shooting out his semen, it was so much. Always been an overachiever.

You just looked so pretty with his cum all over your chest, his breathing got heavier. He could feel himself getting hard again when you took your thumb and wiped his semen off the side of your lip, sucking on it while maintaining eye contact.

“Shit. Thank you, mm thank you,” You motioned to your boobs, “but you made a mess on me, you know what you do with messes.”

Smirking slightly, you shuffled just in front of his face, smiling when he cupped your waist. Joe licked up all of his cum off your chest, sucking and kissing on each of your nipples in the process.

You giggled, it tickled almost. You grabbed ahold of his tip again, pressing your big lips against his.

They swallowed his, just how he liked it. The man was panting in your mouth, trying to catch up but the pain he was feeling was taking over.

You bit his bottom lip hard just when the pain turned into pleasure. His tears dripped onto your skin, he was always the most sensitive.

“Mhm, I’m gonna, please? Please let me.” You let go, a loud groan erupting from his lips. Then you did it again, bringing him on the brink of release.

“I wanna cum,” He sobbed, his hand reaching for your free one, gripping it so tightly. Shaking your head softly, you stopped, peppering him with small kisses.

You didn’t wanna make it deep, because you knew how he’d react.

Laying wet kisses on his stomach you made your way down, biting harshly above his pelvis. He took a deep breath, whimpering loudly. Joe didn’t know what to do with his hands so he gripped onto your bedsheet.

“Hurts so much.” Furrowing your brows you pulled away, a grin planted on your face and the mark you left.

“You want me to stop Joseph? I can leave you like this if you want.” He shook his head, pouting.

“Don’t leave me, no. You can’t. I c-can take it, you know I can. Keep going Y/n, don’t stop.” You couldn’t leave him, not when he was like this, not ever.

He felt so warm, his blood was boiling at your every touch.

“Tell me more, you got me so wet Joe.” Joseph moaned, your words. The way they fell off your sweet tongue.

When you kissed the sweet spot on his neck, a shaky breath left his lips. “I love what you do to me, make me feel so good. Don’t ever want you to stop, oh fuck. Rig.. Right there, p-please keep going.”

Your hand had made its way to his tip, squeezing gently while moving your hand in an up and down motion.

His body was twitching, every touch making him feel like fainting. You stopped, getting yourself situated above his leaking head.

“Mhm, so good Joe.” You pulled your panties aside, lowering yourself down you let out a breath. You bottomed out, pushing up your glasses a little.

Gripping his chin, you pressed a quick kiss on his bottom lip, the same place you so harshly bit.

Every move hit her spot so perfectly, he was molded just for you. “I’m yours.” He whispered, his voice coming out raspy and broken.

“Hm, what was that bunny?” His ears perked up at the pet name, smiling a toothy grin.

“I’m yours Y/n, a-all yours.” You loved that, so when you cupped his throat he didn’t protest, just watching you with pure lust in his eyes.

“This dicks mine?” He nodded as well as he could, a broken moan coming out, “Say it.” You huffed, moving faster, not slowing down when he tried to steady your hips.

“It’s yours, f-fuck I promise. Shit, shit. Don’t stop, fuck please don’t stop.”

You fell undone on his lap, your head falling into his neck. His orgasm was ruined once again, and he whined, a tear falling down.

You quietly snickered, you knew what he wanted, he was so desperate. When you started to move again the man’s eyes rolled back into his head.

“Can I cum? Please?”

“You better, don’t want me to get off do you? Cause bunny I will, I’m feeling a little tired after all.”

You clenched around him, a choked moan escaped and you pressed your lips to his. “Hah, fuck. Hurts so good.”

Continuing your movements you felt him twitch inside you, he edged himself for so long it was crazy how much he could stop himself from cumming unless you told him to.

“Come onn, make me happy.” You moved up, clenching around his tip before slamming yourself back down.

You sighed deeply when you felt him coat your warm walls. He was so cute like this, so pussy drunk.

Riding him through his orgasm you caressed his skin softly, kissing him everywhere.

Joesph literally felt like he was floating, he couldn’t breathe. When he thought you were gone, your smell was back and he knew he wasn’t alone.

xo, liah

#sub!joe #black!fem!reader #dom reader #dom!reader #sub character #black fem reader #black reader #black!reader #blackfem!reader #pain kink #sub!joe golberg #sub joe golberg #dacryphilia #joe goldberg

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sgiandubh · 10 months

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People have opinions about kids, etc great state opinions, but when they post as absolute facts is the problem accompanied by fake voices on videos and blurred pix, that's a problem. Making up lies as facts are the problem. Denigrating Cait and or Sam or worse their families members because you have no real proof is wrong and goes beyond having a peaceful opinion.

Dear Opinion Anon,

First, our traditional spelling bee, because you people still did not learn how to write properly, ok?

People have opinions about kids, etc. great Great: state opinions, but when they post as absolute facts is the problem, accompanied by fake voices on videos and blurred pix, that's a problem. Making up lies as facts are is the problem. Denigrating Cait and/or Sam, or worse, their families' members, because you have no real proof, is wrong and goes beyond having a peaceful opinion.

Look at you, little fascist who knows nothing about the subject-verb agreement in English grammar! Being told what is right and what is wrong by someone clearly unable to properly read and write does not help, pumpkins. Send in your green berets, next time, please: this is way past boring!

I always said I shall speak only for myself on this page. So I am asking you:

Where did you see that particular video on this blog?

Where did you see those funeral pics on this blog? Let alone I explained why I never posted them and you bunch of coward liars all cackled. At length.

Where did I insult Sam's family members on this blog?

Where did I insult Cait's family members on this blog?

When and where did I stalk Sam, Cait or their entourage, unlike one of your queens?

And the question summing them all up:

Do you have a problem with freedom of speech in general?

People post whatever they want to post. They do not need me or you or Moo or *urv or Marple to tell them what to think or post. It is their constitutional right. This is not North Korea: this is an immaterial, almost completely deregulated space, where the demand for information meets the available offer via clicks, shares and comments. Other information is traded in DMs, Telegram groups and other outlets.

Have I made myself clear?

I'll tell you what. You are at once very nervous, curious and afraid of the whole bunch of things we collectively know. You still cannot understand how and why we are still here. You are perplexed by the number of intelligent professionals that are actively debunking all the shite you post regularly. You are upset by the fact real, strong friendships exist in here: something perhaps unheard of in your halls of gloom. And we elicit this reaction only based upon roughly 10 to 15% of the whole content in our, again collective, possession. If you knew all we know, your brain couldn't take it, duckie.

And then I know something else:

No shipper, ever, phoned an employer of an Anti to explain their employee was on Tumblr instead of doing their job.

No shipper, ever, phoned resorts, hotels or airline offices around the world in an attempt to find out where S, C, their progeny or other side players were, at a given moment in time.

No shipper, ever, used their own contacts' network to send false messages about the other side of the fandom war to the two leads, STARZ or the OL production team.

No shipper, ever, sent heinous comments on Anti blogs.

No shipper, ever, harassed Twitter and Instagram posters with endless questions about the time, place and people present at a randomly given event.

No shipper, ever, mounted via sock accounts a whole denigration and calumny campaign on Twitter when one of the leads was involved in a PR blunder.

No shipper, ever, used sexually loaded vocabulary to express 'appreciation' for the actors' work.

No shipper, ever, went on Wikipedia to repeatedly edit the male lead's dedicated page in order to include false sexual orientation reference, which then was screencapped and used as 'evidence' in subsequent flaming wars.

And many more...

You know, people have criticized me for even answering you. But answer you I shall, every time I shall think a reminder is necessary. I think shippers have turned the other cheek for way longer than they should have: a strategic choice that gave you both space and confidence. That you all went in a frenzy just before Christmas tells me perhaps more than you'd think about the kind of people you really are.

I am done with you. Don't bother coming back - you will be immediately blocked: you, your terrible grammar and your impertinence.

#anon #fandom

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sotwk · 1 year

Text

Transformed (Gelir Thranduilion x femReader )

Fanfic Request from the @fellowshipofthefics's AU-gust Mashup Event

Prompt: Gelir, son of Thranduil (SotWK OC) + Mythical creatures + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Summary: A Mirkwood huntress is attacked by a mythical beast and begins a slow and gradual transformation into a monster herself. Prince Gelir helps her through the frightening ordeal by overseeing her care.

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir I am so thrilled (and relieved) that I was finally able to complete one of your requests! Thank you for being so patient with me, and for giving me a chance to finally write an insert starring one of my OC Thranduilions. (How self-indulgent and exciting!) Love you, darling!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: AU, werewolf lore, romance, angst, mild gore, hidden feelings, oblivious to love

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Mild sensuality, mention of blood and mild horror/violence

To Read on AO3: Link

Transformed

Third Age 1554

Mirkwood

Legends had people believing that werewolves could shift from human to lupine form within a matter of minutes at the strike of the full moon. But legends, merely stories passed down across generations by word of mouth, often got certain details wrong.

As was the case with you.

The long iron chains that connected the shackles around your wrists to the wall clinked softly as you raised your loosely bound hands to your face. You brushed your fingers over the coarse hair that covered your neck, its growth making the slow, tedious crawl upward to your jawline, where a soft fuzz had developed overnight. By tomorrow, you would likely wake with your cheeks entirely covered in fur…perhaps among other worse changes.

Heightened senses had manifested first, long before the physical changes began to show, and so the distinctly heady scents of warm rain and spring grass identified your visitor before he ever stepped through the door. But there was also the fact that hardly anyone else had dared to step foot into the same room as you, ever since your condition was identified. Despite folklore attesting that the mysterious affliction could only be transmitted by a creature’s bite, all the other elves were behaving as though merely breathing in the same air would get them infected.

You were grateful that Gelir had never behaved very much like all the others. Still, the carefree boldness you had always admired in him now worried you.

“You really must stop coming here,” you mumbled, just barely raising your gaze towards him. He was a Prince of Eryn Galen, yes, and the leader of your company besides. But you had known each other for far too long to put on pretenses with each other. "I could lose control of myself any moment now and hurt you."

"You could try to hurt me," he countered with a smirk. "You would not succeed." He folded his arms over his chest and ran his gaze all over you, his unfailingly keen eyes assessing the physical changes that had occurred since his last visit merely a few hours ago.

You turned away in a futile attempt to escape his stare. Gelir meant well, and was the only one whose concern for you overrode any instinct for self-preservation, the latter of which he never possessed much of, anyway. But even in your weary sadness and pit of despair you were embarrassed about being seen like this, especially by him. Your childhood friend who had always sauntered around oblivious to how annoyingly, stupidly, breathtakingly handsome he was.

"I am serious," you said sharply, vaguely conscious of the feral rush of anger in your gut, rising into what sounded like a rumbling snarl in your throat. "I will not be responsible for inflicting this curse on the King's son."

"If hurting me is your main concern when you are the one suffering through all this…" Gelir shook his head, his face suddenly and uncharacteristically somber. "Then you are still very much like yourself and I have nothing to worry about."

You sighed and slumped back down on the edge of the bed. King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests.

A month into the ordeal and they were still tending to you like a guest, changing your bed linens like clockwork, bringing you water and fresh towels to clean yourself with, dropping off three meals a day along with stacks of books and paper and quills to help you pass the time.

“You have not eaten all day.” Gelir gestured at the untouched dinner tray on the low table. "Nor did you yesterday. Or the day before that."

“I feel no hunger.”

“You must eat,” he said firmly. “Whatever appeals to you, tell me and I will send for it."

"What point is there? Perhaps starving myself is the best and cleanest way to end this mess."

"The point is I will not have you losing hope while the rest of us hold fast. The healers have not ceased tearing into the creature's corpse for answers. Must I remind you that both Arvellas and my mother are leading the efforts to find a cure?"

Tears sprang to the corners of your eyes. Knowing the royal family was devoting their time to helping you really was what kept you going through the moments of despair and self-pity. But it was hard not to question what made you worthy of such attention, even though the King and Queen were well-known for regarding every subject in their kingdom as family.

The subtle shift of the firm mattress under his weight drew your thoughts to the fact that he had sat down next to you. On impulse, you shrank away to take back the distance that safely separated you from the elf-prince.

Gelir frowned, and you immediately held up both your hands to remind him of how they had gruesomely mutated over the past week. When you first noticed your fingers begin to stiffen at the joints and curl inward to your palms, until it pained you to fully stretch them, that was the first time you broke down sobbing over your condition. The ugly hair that sprouted at unsightly places all over your body to suffocate your skin had bothered you much less. But your hands-- lithe and strong and skilled with bow and knife and craft--those were your treasures. Now they were malformed and good for nothing except perhaps wanton slaughter, the only possible use for the razor-sharp claws that still continued to grow out of each fingertip.

"I dare not have you within reach of these, your Highness,” you whispered, steeling your face against the threat of another breakdown. “Please."

Unsurprisingly, Gelir defied your plea. He reached out, and before you could resist--yet did you even attempt to?--one of his strong hands closed around your wrist, and he guided the deformed monstrosity to rest against his open palm. You flinched as the points of the claws touched the prince’s skin.

"I am no delicate flower," Gelir said loudly. He pushed one of the sharp tips into the flesh of his palm, where it found resistance as hard as stone: a warrior’s hand inherited from his great forebears and strengthened by centuries of training and battle. "And I can protect myself, even from you, no matter what form you take."

The mere thought of attacking him sickened you, and brought your mind back to that dark cave where you had recklessly given chase to an already dying orc. You had been so focused on revenge, on seeking payment for what the filth had done to your comrade, that you did not detect the more dangerous beast lurking in the deep tunnel until it leapt out at you.

Your struggle with the creature lasted a mere few seconds before an arrowhead burst through its eye, forcing its jaws to release your bloodied forearm. Gelir’s enraged scream echoed dreadfully through the cave as he threw the monster off you and ended it with a single swing of his longknife, nearly cleaving its midsection in half.

Those images sent a shiver down your entire body. You pulled your hands away to wrap your arms around yourself, and stood up to pace alongside the bed. After a moment of Gelir just sitting there quietly watching you wrestle your anxiety, you stopped to face him and blurt out:

"And when I become too much of a threat, how will you deal with it then? Will you kill me too?"

“Do you feel an urge to attack me?” Gelir rose slowly, keen green eyes searching your face. “Right now, at this moment? Are you overcome by a desire to rip my throat out?”

You stared at him, so handsome and flawless and immaculate a figure, the dream of many an elf in the kingdom. Such beauty and light was so loathed by the Darkness, that any evil festering within you would surely rise to try and destroy him.

But as you stood within arm’s reach of your friend, close enough to inflict serious damage if violent impulses demand it, all you could feel was the same thing you had felt for him since the day he first made you laugh. When you thought you would never laugh again after the raiding orcs claimed your family’s lives.

“No,” you finally mumbled. “Not at this moment.”

“Until then, I forbid you from even imagining me harming a hair on your body.” He caught your gaze and smiled. “Even though you certainly have more of it now than you did before.”

Laughter rang clear from your mouth, and went on so heartily and for so long that it blurred your vision and emptied your lungs. By the time you regained your composure, you noticed that Gelir had remained oddly silent the whole time, and returned to staring at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need to.” He exhaled softly, as an archer might to reduce tension in their body before loosing an arrow. “To remind me of why I must speak up now, and delay no longer.”

The softness with which Gelir spoke your name was so abruptly different from the more common noises of his boisterous shouting and laughter. As noticeably different as a midday summer blaze was from a dawn’s early rays.

Suddenly you realized how badly your heart was racing, and how loud it must sound to his ears.

"This ordeal has changed nothing in the way I view you. This… this accident…” The bitterness of self-hate, a self-blame that you have repeatedly failed to talk him out of, cut through his words. “This threat to you, has only forced me to stare down a truth that I have ignored for too long. Before I do this, I wish to make that clear.”

Your speeding heart came to a sudden halt, as did the world around you. "Before you do what?"

The moment his hands cupped the sides of your face, his fingers threading into your hair, you were trapped. All hesitation, all fears and worries, extinguished like a wavering candle against a sudden gale as his mouth descended on yours. Valar, his lips were so soft. They moved tenderly against yours, confident in their conquest yet pleading for requital.

And answer it you did. The wild joy and thrill and desire that had long been locked up in a cage of denial within you now broke free, and you kissed your Captain and Prince. You felt the slight tremble of his jaw and heard the faintest of moans from his throat as you deepened the kiss, tasting sweet mead from the sweep of his tongue.

More. More. You craved more, and a fierce hunger for him exploded from your chest past your torn defenses.

And suddenly you tasted blood.

With a wail of shock and despair, you withdrew and lurched away from Gelir, watching in horror as he touched the bleeding cut at the center of his lower lip, where you had bitten him.

“Eru what have I done?! I am so sorry, Gelir, I--”

“Stop. It’s all right…” He tried to say, but his calmness in the situation aggravated you. How could it be all right? How could you be so careless with the one you loved?! You tried to withdraw to a corner of the room, to get as far away from him as you could, but the limits of your iron shackles prevented it.

“I swore I would not let this evil touch you and now I--” You could barely find your words, you were breathing so hard, so infuriated with yourself.

“And I swore that I would never let anything happen to you,” Gelir cut in heatedly. “Even though it was a vow I made only to myself, I swore. Yet I failed, and this is how I choose to right that wrong.”

He called out to you repeatedly, your name like a hymn on his lips with the warm timbre of his singer’s voice, and it soothed you enough that you allowed him to come near, to take your hands in his again. "When I assured you that you would not face this alone, I meant it."

"B-but the King… the Queen…" It broke you to think that you had failed them as well, after everything they had done for you your entire life.

"...knew exactly what they were risking by permitting me to come here." He brushed the heel of his palm over your cheek, his thumb catching a stricken tear before it could fall. “They have known far longer than I have, longer than either of us, that my heart has been yours for years. Meleth nin…”

He placed your grotesque, beastly hand on his chest, and you marveled at the strong, steady beat of his heart underneath your misshapen fingers, which did not hurt nearly as much anymore.

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.”

On the other side of the chamber doors, out in the hall, Elvenqueen Maereth gave her lord husband’s arm a squeeze. “Let us allow them their privacy; they waited so long for this moment,” she whispered. “An hour perhaps, to sort through these revelations.”

Thranduil smiled wryly. “Nothing opens a fool’s blind heart like the terror of loss.” He reached out to wrap an arm around his own beloved. “You are overspent, Endanya. Take your rest. I will send Arvellas to deliver the news to them later.”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

“He will do as he is told,” said Thranduil flatly, giving an impatient shake of his head. “It should be enough to satisfy him that their fates are now surely tied.” He paused, revealing the smallest of cracks in his nonchalance. “Are there concerns of the process being dangerous or painful?”

“It will certainly not be easy. But she is strong,” Maereth said with a faint smile. “And they will be strong for each other.”

“But the cure will work.”

“It may take time, but I have faith it will.” The Queen laced her fingers through Thranduil’s, seeking the comfort she always found in his hands. “If we have learned nothing else these past centuries, aran nin, it is that the Darkness can never prevail against light such as this.”

SotWK Fancast: Sam Claflin (Daisy Jones and The Six) as Prince Gelir Thranduilion

Elves Tag list: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @tamurilofrivendell @guardianofrivendell @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @heranintomyknife23times @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @talkdifferently6

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

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#sotwk fanfiction #fanfic request #gelir thranduilion #sotwk oc #gelir x oc #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #legolas #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #lotr #the hobbit #unnamed oc

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netherfeildren · 1 year

Text

FEAR OF GOD : Chapter VI : The indignity of suffering

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Go into that dark wood, but do not lose yourself.

Content Warnings: canon typical violence; gore; angst

A/N: I just wanted to say that you all have been so fucking kind and lovely and supportive to me. I’ve read and tried to reply to every single one of your messages and cherish them so so much. I can’t even tell you what it means to me to receive this type of response to something I’ve written, my very first thing I’ve ever shared publicly, at that. I seriously thought this thing’d have two hits, me and my burner account and that’s it. I appreciate each and every single one of you to the end of the earth, and hope I can continue to write things that you all relate to and are moved by and find solace in. Thank you so so so much. I love you and I wish you all nothing but the most amazing things in the whole world.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 3.5K

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CHAPTER VI: The indignity of suffering

Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story. -Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

You sit now in the dark quiet of your living room, facing straight forward, unseeing, feet planted firmly on the floor, trying to ground yourself and count the sounds of your breath. Feel the inhale pass all the way into your body, deep down to your toes, back up again through your abdomen, whistle through your lungs, up your throat and out, back into the world. A repetitive exercise to try and soothe your racing heart.

You need to leave.

Birdie, I love you. Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

Your nails are splintered bloody, the tips of your fingers rubbed raw from the fight in the woods. It hurts, and you pick at the broken skin trying to distract from the other pain writhing within you. Something, something else has to exist in the world that can hurt more than this, than him. Please, please, let there be something else worse than this. You pick harder at the skin. You still possess enough clarity of mind to be cognizant of the fact that your thoughts are slightly unhinged. Something to hurt more? Why? For what? What good would that do you? For the girl who’s always tried to have the answers to every question that came her way, you find that there are no discernible solutions to this. No reason, no way to conceptualize it. There was no easy way to color within the lines in this moment, tuck it all away neatly into a drawer. Your edges are frayed, savaged, bloody and torn.

He had done this to you – true. But in many ways you had also done this to yourself. You could only go on accepting the way others treated you for so long before it got to be too much. And you knew, once again, that it was all about the choices you made. What were you willing to put up with? What were you willing to let go of? What was necessary for your survival? What would you die without?

I will die without him, you think.

Asking for things for yourself had always been excruciating. You’d gotten better at pushing that piece of yourself away – that deficit – with age. You saw it for what it was now, something to hurt you, rather than, naively considered, to protect you. And it was time now, to ask for this, to demand he love you out in the open. He could not say the words to you, fuck them into you with his body and his touch, press them into your skin – and then take them back? No. His terror at the possibility of losing you, of you getting hurt sent him over the edge, robbed him of rational thought, you could objectively understand this, but the agony of having him and not having him – of being able to only brush your fingertips along the phantom idea of him, never being able to hold on tight — dig your nails into his skin and draw blood; well that provided grounds for cowardice. Surely, it excused it, even. Because, you think: this is unendurable, unendurable.

The two of you were made up of so much fear in equal measures. Him, afraid of his own feelings, of showing his softness, of putting that softness in someone else’s hands. And you, you, sometimes you terrified yourself. The lengths you could go to swallow your hurts, to repress the things that broke your heart – you couldn’t live like this anymore. It was too painful, abnormal – emaciating yourself in the name of being strong and stoic.

So perhaps Joel was right, in this instance. You did. You needed to leave. As a means of self preservation, you needed to do as he’d told you. You needed to get out, away from him. From yourself. From all these people who knew you, and how much you wanted and needed and loved him and fucking prostrated yourself at the effigy of him you’d created in your mind. You wanted to scream and thrash and gnaw your teeth through the very marrow of who and what you were, and you wanted to say that you hated him and yourself and everything, everything, everything. Why did you have to be this way? Why did he have to be this way? You felt angry and resentful with the world, with life itself. But you didn’t, you couldn’t, say or do any of those things.

None of them were true.

What was true was that it was not your responsibility to step between him and his daughter. To defend or protect him from her. That was not your place. Not right now, at least. The struggle between them was their own, could only be mended by them two.

What was true was that you loved him. And he loved you. You knew this now, without doubt. What was true was that he hurt you. That he was terribly afraid. That he could not allow himself the vulnerability of being hurt again himself.

Beth. Beth. Beth. Where are you, sister? I need you.

You needed to go back out. Despite what had happened tonight, and your very real fear that there could be more of those men out there, that woman and her baby were out there somewhere. You needed to find them; there was something inside of you urging you out there to them – the look in her eyes, the sound of the child’s cries – and there wasn’t anything that could stop you from going. The idea of leaving the safety of Jackson’s walls without Joel, without his reassuring protection and competence, caused a fear to surge up inside you that was almost debilitating. But you had to do this. You had to find them, help them in any way you could. The desperation in the woman’s eyes – it was like a mirror of your own terror the night Beth had died. You saw yourself in her gaze in that moment, the terrified reflection of your past self.

You’d gone straight to Maria from Joel’s. The look on your face, enough to tell her this was something you needed to do now. She’d gone straight to Noah first, then another girl in town, called Vero, both were competent trackers and hunters, and Noah was your friend. You knew he’d help you. They’d agreed to go. You’d head out tomorrow at first light, search the greater part of the day, go as far out as you could and still be able to make it back before dark. Easy and quick.

He wanted you gone. He wanted you to leave. Then you would. It wasn’t in your nature to be petty or lash out, but it was in your nature to hide, to swallow a hurt, to run. This was self preservation at its core. You needed to get away from the humiliation. The burning rejection of knowing that you loved him, and that even though he’d said the words, he still saw you as something apart from himself and the things he held close. Not family.

There was a more level headed part of you that objectively knew he’d be furious to know you’d gone back out without him. That he’d lose his mind when he found out. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. The petty and hurt part, the part he’d just trampled all over, would win tonight, wanted to lash out. If Maria was letting you go you knew your plan wasn’t suicidal – at least not in terms of what you might run into out there. You both knew the three of you could take care of yourselves. Joel, though, he might just kill you himself when you returned.

But you needed time to conceptualize your feelings. Fold things away as neatly as possible – the things he’d said to you – you needed to shut this love away in a drawer, put it to rest as best as you could. Dissociate from it if necessary, from him.

You wished desperately for Connie in this moment. For his clear logic and calming baritone. Use your head, honey. The answer’s right there in front of you. For him to pet your hair and tell you it’d all be okay. But he wasn’t here. And neither was Beth or Ellie or Maria. No one you felt could understand, not truly. Really, you knew you wanted to talk to Joel. Knew he understood this overwhelming feeling of having absolutely nothing left to give. That he knew how someone who knows what it’s like to go without, is always willing to give more. Even if they don’t have anything left for themselves. That this feeling you were experiencing now was exactly what held him back from you.

He understood the sentiment intimately. As hard as he’d tried to push you away, keep you at arms length, shield the softness within himself from your prying eyes and grasping fingers, you’d seen it. You’d even felt it brush up against you. And you knew, you knew, he had so, so much left to give. Even if he couldn’t see it himself. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to share it with you. He’d done it for Ellie. For that little girl all that time ago who’d needed him, and despite his reluctance, fear, trauma, his painful, painful past – he’d given himself to her entirely.

It wasn’t in you to judge him for holding himself back from you. As much as it ripped you to shreds, you understood him with a profoundness and an empathy you surprised yourself with. Of course he was fucking scared. Of course he was terrified of the risk of pain. Of the risk of loss.

The mistake was to assume that any person you loved would be, at all times, without fault. Never cruel. Never selfish. Would never hurt you. In love or friendship or family, you now considered, with experience, the real test of longevity to be acceptance of that occasional mistake – whether it be cruelty or selfishness or hurt – it didn’t really matter. The people you loved would hurt you sometimes. They’d say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. Make the wrong choice. To err was human. No one was ever perfect one hundred percent of the time, and to allow for that margin of error, was to be merciful in your love. Not only for them, for the person you loved, but for yourself, as well. The capacity – the space to make mistakes and forgive yourself for it, own it and move on – that was true mercy. That was the true promise of longevity. Especially in a world like this, one so full of cruelty and danger and casual hurts. Risk, always risk just around the corner. And Joel, he was not a man who took risks lightly. He was an animal cornered – and a threatened creature does not think of consequences. It considers only survival.

It was in the way you proceeded after your mistakes, the choices, the actions you took to make reparations, that the true test lay.

All of this understanding, however, didn’t mean his rejection was painless. All the self awareness in the world still wasn’t enough to soothe the sting of rejection. And it stung like a bitch.

You feel yourself start to tilt sideways onto your sofa, glassy eyes taking in the warm corners of your home. The piles of books, your tacky orange plaid throw over the armchair by the fire, the drawings Ellie’d given you to put up. A life strung together with sheer determination – a safe space. It didn’t feel as safe, as warm, in this moment, without him. Autonomy over your body lost to grief, your shoulder hits the green cushion. You turn your face into the darkness and let the hot press of tears break free. Muffled and quiet, you let all that hurt you wished you could erase, out. The pain in your throat is strangling, trying to keep yourself contained. There is a savagely broken place within you that forces you, even in this moment, to remain subdued, and you wish you could let it all out in a messy explosion of tears and howling. That your mind would allow your physical reaction to reflect the seething pain you’re feeling inside, to let go of restraint for even just a moment.

When you’ve lost everything, how do you muster the bravery to hold onto something new?

You had it in you to run – to sneak away in the dark. This you knew. To be cowardly – even if only in his eyes. To be selfish. Even if you knew that running away, even after he’d told you to go, was the worst possible thing you could do to him. Be selfish, Birdie. Be selfish for me, just a little bit, he’d said once. Well, you would be. You needed distance and space to lick the bleeding wound your heart had become, and you had something you felt you direly needed to do. That woman was waiting for you out there – you felt it in your bones, the baby’s cry resounding in your memory over and over again.

Perhaps your anger was useless. After all, an animal cornered could only react on instinct, and Joel had cornered himself with his confession.

But you were so, so tired. You couldn’t fight anymore.

It’s the end of the goddamned world, Joel. Just love me like I know you do.

You pull the cinch of the saddle, checking it’s secure. You’d slept like shit, the events of the night before replaying in your mind on a loop. His words clanging against your skull over and over again. The dark woods – Beth’s dying screams. The clicking. The look on Ellie’s face – so concerned, scared for you. Scared of what would become of you without him. Dawn hasn’t broken over the horizon yet, but you’re ready to get out of here.

Sometimes you feel like he isn’t actually real. A figment you’ve created in your imagination. And really, if you’re being wholly honest with yourself, isn't that the most honest truth between the two of you? Isn't everything you think you need from him merely something born from your own yearning? Haven’t you been half-existing without him this whole time? One foot in, one foot out. If you’d never had the whole thing, had you ever really even had it at all?

Perhaps that isn’t fair, to either of you. You can’t tell what’s right or wrong anymore, real or imaginary. Your mind, blanketed by exhaustion, coherence gone out the door like an old lover.

Have I been walking in circles again?

“You ready to go?” You’re snapped from your reverie at the sound of Noah’s voice. Nausea churns in your gut on a low, threatening simmer. Everything held in a tight knot at the base of your throat. Vero’s saddled and ready to go – waiting for the two of you to mount, as well.

Maria’s old adage, her overused one at that, sounds in your mind: The only people who can betray us are the ones we trust. How right she always is. After all, hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy. Who knows your soft spots, where to strike hardest, better than someone who loves you?

Leaving was probably a mistake. In the cool clarity of the damp morning, you’re worried you’re walking into something the three of you are ill prepared for, incapable of handling. But you know that baby is out there – you know the desperation in the woman’s eyes wasn’t feigned, couldn’t be. You had to find them. And Joel’d done most of the heavy lifting, killing, last night – that man’s skull crushed beneath the violent weight of his fist, the stray clickers done away with. All you had to do now was find that woman and her child, and hope nothing worse waited for you out there.

So much had happened in the span of such a few, seemingly short hours.

You mount your horse, and your belly sways with nausea you have to grit your teeth against. Concern nips at your heels, but you can’t think about that now. Not after last night, not in light of what you’re about to set out to do. Perhaps not ever. Perhaps you can ignore your anxieties and suspicions indefinitely. Perhaps then, they can’t hurt you, won’t be made real. Can’t remind you of how alone you’ll be after this is done.

You have much to do: you must make yourself into stone, kill your memories, kill your desires, find your future. Change the very nature of your soul, if you must, learn to live without him.

Noah settles on his mount, and you click your tongue, the three of you start to move forward. You’re afraid. A huge yawning pit of trepidation, of terror opening in your gut. This is how Joel must feel all the time. But there’s also the voice in your head, telling you this is something you need to do. No matter what. You feel so keenly, in your very marrow, that they’re waiting for you. There was no discerning evidence as to why you knew you needed to do this, why you felt you’d recognized her, but you did.

It seemed empirically impossible that the two of you’d have met each other at that precise moment last night. In the tumult of chaos that had crashed around the two of you in that dark wood, that the night had cleared for one precise second to allow you to look at her face, to see all she needed to voice but could not say; that she was terrified, that she needed help. There had to be a reason for that.

You’d been searching for reasons in meaningless things for far too long now. You knew this. You should apply your rational mind to questioning this hair-brained plan, tell yourself that leaving without Joel, despite the things he’d said last night, was suicide. You could very well die, either out there, at the hands of some monster, or in here, after he murdered you for going out there without him. Part of you didn’t really care anymore. A blanket of numbness clouding your judgment.

You’d always been a girl that had done as she was told, inhabited the place in life assigned to you. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to do something you weren’t supposed to.

You ride for several hours before you’re attacked. The silent woods surround the three of you, moving slowly in the general direction of the clearing from last night, and then further on towards the way which she’d fled. It’s peaceful, the steady cadence of the horses hooves, the wind disturbing the stillness of the trees like a whispered song of the leaves; you think they might be telling you to turn around, to go back to him. And then, as if you’d been struck by lightning, coming to after, only to discover catastrophe of the highest order. You tell yourself you won’t regret your choice to come out here, you won’t, no matter what happens, you all can fight, this was something you had to do. There’s chaos circling you, Vero and Noah’s shouts, a gun sounding, and then you turn to see Vero’s body falling to the ground. There’s a bullet wound straight through her skull, dead center, brain matter splattering behind her in a sick mockery of strewn life. You’re shocked into utter stillness, all thought, all understanding wiped from your brain as neatly as the bullet through hers. This is your doing.

And then fire, fire, fire, suddenly – shockingly. Pulverizing your ribs, your flesh, your very self. An inferno climbing up your chest, down your hip, and through your arm, spreading uncontrollably. You lose your seat on the horse, and then you too, are plummeting to the ground. The unyielding ground surging up towards your face like a cold wave. You feel as if you fall for centuries, and then your body is slamming sickeningly against the forest floor, your shoulder crunches and you want to howl; your head rebounding so hard you feel your very brain jostle inside your skull. Your vision flashes in and out, blurred and unfocused, and all you can discern are the mammoth figures of the trees around you. Looming over you like monsters in the dead of night, come to devour.

My secret, my secret, I never got to tell him.

You try to curl in on yourself, protect whatever remains of a body you’re not sure you possess anymore. More resounding shots of a gun, again, again, screaming and howling. Perhaps the wolves have descended. He’s going to be so angry, you think. My friends, my friends are dying because of me. Noah, where is Noah? Please, please, don’t be dead too.

You think that if you die, Joel and Ellie have to make up. They have to. He’ll need her so much.

Birdie, I love you. Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

You should have never left. You should have stayed with him. No matter what he said. What the hell did he know anyway? You should have fought harder. You should have stayed with him.

The dark lake of unconsciousness swallows you whole.

Chapter VII

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #FoG fic

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 8 months

Note

have you ever thought about yandere geto more specifically yandere CULT geto. cus i do. quite often.

HI ANON hmmm hm hm………… okay so honestly. i’m not super into yanderes at all so i don’t know if i’ll have much to contribute with when it comes to this kinda thing :’3 bUT i do love cult leader!geto to the moon and back + i’ve been thinking of him incessantly lately + i think he’s only a couple steps away from being a yan lol.

geto’s whole Thing is his contrast; he can kill a man swiftly, cruelly, only to go meet his beloved family right after with a genuine smile on his face. (we see that almost instantly in jjk 0!!) he really does have that cruel / soft contrast that i assume a bunch of yan content is built on…. he would treasure his beloved soooo dearly and i absolutely don’t think he’d shy away from killing any non-sorcerers that were giving them trouble… but again!! this isn’t even yan!geto, this is literally just Geto. that’s just how he is in canon 😭😭 he’s willing to go to any lenghts to protect his loved ones, and his own morals are aligned towards his view of non-sorcerers as non-human. he doesn’t see them as human, so why would he feel guilty for killing them?

but ok so to kinda go back to the idea of yan!geto… i think the biggest difference between him and yan!gojo (imo!!) is that gojo is willing to look past his morals to keep you safe, knowing that it’s Wrong but choosing not to care, while geto doesn’t let go of his morals — instead, he twists them until they align with what he’s doing. if that makes sense. to him, doing what he does for you is morally just. so he doesn’t feel shame or guilt for it.

aaaaand this is also why i don’t really feel Equipped to talk abt him….. because yan!geto would probably be a lot Worse than yan!gojo …….. and i’m embarrassingly sensitive to dark content :’3 i can see the appeal and the yan undertones are absolutely There but i think i see cult leader!geto in a very moe light PHJEHSJD he’s… my meowmeow. he can do no wrong. he hasn’t had a single evil thought in his Life <33

SOO to change the subject rq!!!!! kind of!!!! (i’m sorry anon i’ve just been thinking abt more fluffy scenarios w him lately and i need an outlet </3) i genuinely think cult leader geto!would be such a great lover :(( it’s easy to see him as a yan (AND THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG W THAT TO BE CLEAR) but i just . genuinely think he would be sooo gentle and loving and silly? protective and possessive and imposing, sure, but he would honestly rather die than hurt you in any way. i don’t think his soul could take it.

like. it’s just so telling that geto canonically lets his family believe what they want, and do what they want; he doesn’t force them to see non-sorcerers the same way he does, he doesn’t keep nanako & mimiko from exploring the world and interacting w non-sorcerers, and so on!! his own beliefs are steadfast, but he doesn’t use them as an excuse to confine the people he cares for. he trusts them and loves them and even though i’m sure he’s paranoid he lets them run free.

so!! i think he would be very patient and accepting no matter what his s/o believed or did. i can see him being a bit a Lot of a helicopter parent but it’s never malicious, it’s just for safety purposes!! he just couldn’t bear to have anything happen to you </3 cult leader!geto is cynical and cautious and he isn’t taking any chances when it comes to your safety. but!! he’s still so silly and doting and i think he’s just so sweet…. 🥺🥺 i’m writing the outline for a fic rn where his s/o works at a regular preschool and he hates interacting with your coworkers in any capacity but he still does it to make u happy … yk??? like how he went with his girls to eat crepes in jjk 0. he just wants to give and give. our acts of service king <333

overall i see cult leader!geto as someone who hides his inherent softness behind a dark exterior, and while he’s far more willing to be cruel than hs suguru was, he never really changed at his core!! he’s just overflowing with softness and care. we see this so clearly in the scene where he’s alone with nanamimi, his girls, and everything is soft and quiet and geto is completely unguarded. and he’s so, so soft. his softness doesn’t even have a twisted hint to it, he just loves you. and he wants the best for you. i think the horror would only come from seeing how quickly he goes from cooing into your ear to disposing of a non-sorcerer with a freezing look in his eyes; the whiplash is scary. but if it scared his s/o i think he’d be hell-bent on not letting you see him like that unless absolutely necessary.

it’s difficult because so much of his character in this stage of his life has to do with cruelty, but all he truly wants at his core is to create a world where his loved ones will be happy :(( where he can protect them properly. idk i just can’t really see cult leader!geto as toxic at the end of the day….. he’s a puppydog to me. a foxcoded, silly little guy. despite his cult leader / genocide loving tendencies i think he would be a very soft, selfless lover <333 overwhelmingly devoted. the weight of his devotion could honestly be frightening and i feel like he could be sweet in a kind of twisted way (something like this) but at the end of the day he’s very particular about only showing you his soft side.

THOSE ARE MY SPONTANEOUS THOUGHTS i’m sorry they weren’t too focused on yan!geto anon :’3 but i hope u got some enjoyment out of them anyway!!! if u have any thoughts of ur own then i’d absolutely love to hear em <33

#im just . a Bit too sensitive to certain tropes and dynamics ……… pshfjehhfvf …. so i just don’t think im equipped to talk abt yans </3 #aaaa but. i DO think geto would be a lot more twisted w a non-sorcerer reader!! someone he happened to fall for despite his beliefs #in a scenario like that i think he’d easily slide into yan territory …..#also ive come to the conclusion that i miiiight be moe-fying cult leader!geto a bit too much but i have no plans of stopping !!!#he’s my special little guy <333 #i do think that when you look at canon geto he really is just. so soft. he can be cruel but a lot of it is acting imo……#playing the part of his own ideal. etcetc. i see the nanamimi scene + his death scene as the two moments where he’s most Himself #and in both he’s a softie. tender and loving. :( i need to turn him into a smoothie so i can drink him #ask tag ✩

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nualaofthefaerie · 5 months

Text

Holding Hands

Pairing: Death of the Endless x Wanda

Content: SFW

Type: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, a little bit of both

Content warnings: death (what a surprise)

Author's note: I wrote this in haste. I was entirely possessed by the concept so I rushed to write. Death x Wanda are my top wlw ship and I hope you all will see my vision.

It felt rather numb.

Wanda had always imagined death to be painful - stabbing through one’s soul, tearing at it, then gnawing it until there was nothing left. Life had certainly made her believe so. And death was supposed to be far worse.

In life she had to forge a path for herself, by herself. No one really gave her another choice and she certainly was not going to give those she left behind the satisfaction of complaining. Although she probably should have done so. If she had shouted, if she had resisted, created a mess, they would have had no other choice but to acknowledge her existence.

“Ts.” Her tongue clicked as she hovered over her aunt, crying through gritted teeth. “As if you ever cared.”

It was utterly grotesque to watch all of these people who had decided to burn their bridges with her, now mourn over her grave.

“That’s not even my grave!” she threw her hands in the air. “Alvin Mann is who you assholes are grieving!”

“I do not think they can hear you.”’

Wanda had indeed imagined death to be painful. But she was beautiful. She had a warm smile on her face and an awfully every day New Yorker look about her. The weather was nothing less but suffocatingly hot, yet Death wasn’t even sweating in her leather ensemble.

“I know you, yet I am sure we’ve never met.” Wanda’s brows gathered at the tips.

“We have.” Death laughed. “We have met so many times, Wanda. You are a rather reckless one.”

Wanda retreated back into the green fields away from her own funeral. No, Alvin’s funeral.

“Well, I do not remember you then.”

“Of course.” The tiny wrinkles around Death’s eyes raised and Wanda’s heart, although now certainly dead, skipped a beat. For all that had changed throughout the years the one thing that never truly did was Wanda’s affinity for falling in love with women out of her league. She’d reckon Death was at the top of that list. “Back at the Marquee a few years ago, in that bathroom-“

Wanda’s heart sank. She remembered the night at the Marquee well. Barbie had left for a few days and without her constant supervision, the anxiety had gotten the better of her and Wanda had fallen into old habits, habits she wasn’t particularly proud of.

“They said I was supposed to be dead then, you know.” Wanda sat down in the grass.

“You were.” Death nodded, sitting next to her. “I was supposed to take you away that night.”

“Do you do that for all of us? Take us away?”

“Well, I am a notoriously hard worker.” Death laughed, pulling out a pair of Ray Ban sunnies. “But yes, I try to be there for all of you. If I cannot, I have a small, but diligent group of helpers and subsets of my existence that will take care of any abnormalities…” she stopped mid sentence, turned her head to one side and laughed again. “Except a few special abnormalities. The universe can become a bit boring if we are all to constantly play by the rules, which is why I took you to the hospital instead of taking you with me. You were not completely gone then, so I was presented a choice and I took it.”

“Why?” Wanda interrupted her.

“Why not?” Death’s chin rose to the skies, satisfied with her vague answer.

“I died anyways.” Wanda shrugged.

“We will all die anyway.”

“Even you?”

“Well…I think so, yes.” Death’s booth dug into the dirt, but she kept looking at Wanda. The dead girl

“And who will take you?”

“You are a very nosy one, do you know that?”

Wanda tried picking up a flower but her fingers slipped through it like wind.

“Ha. Yeah, I do actually. At least Barbie always said that I ask too many questions.” Wanda then grew quiet, looking over the splash of black across the green field. Barbie was nowhere to be seen. Did she even know Wanda had died? Had anyone told the only person who was going to mourn Wanda as opposed to whoever’s body was in that damn coffin, she had died? The sun didn’t feel so warm anymore. “You know I always thought death would be painful.”

“Well, I do try to be gentle with you all. Frankly, I’m not even the scariest one of us all.”

“Us?”

“Not of importance.” Wanda nodded distractedly. She was still thinking about Barbie. “It is not so bad. I have seen deaths with a lot less…turnout.”

Wanda shook her head.

“It’s empty to me.”

“You should not leave this world filled with resentment.” Death’s smile dropped. “It’s not good for you.”

Wanda’s blood boiled at the thought. Her head turned sharply to the beautiful, but cruel Death.

“And how else am I supposed to leave? How else are we supposed to leave? I don’t owe them my forgiveness. They are not even here for me! They finally get to mourn the man they wanted but never got! I bet some of them are even glad I’m dead! They won’t have to give anyone awkward pauses anymore after someone asks them ‘And how is Alvin?’.” her jaw clenched. “And it is not only me! There are thousands, millions of people probably who feel the same as I do – abandoned, lonely, ostracised for nothing more than being ourselves. Yet, I am the one who should bestow them my forgiveness?!”

Death’s silence was deafening. She turned her gaze upon the crowd gathered around the Catholic priest whose voice raised above the hills. Quiet hiccups and sharp whispers carried through the winds all the way to Death’s ears. Her sigh sent a chill through the spine of every living creature.

“You are right.” She said at the end with all the seriousness in the world. “They do not deserve your forgiveness. But if your soul is not restful, I cannot take you.”

“Then don’t.”

“That is worse.” Death grabbed her hand. It was warm. Especially for a ghost. “Listen to me. You need to. Not for them. For you.”

“I can’t.” Wanda whispered. “I can’t just leave and let them win.”

Death kept her rules simple. She was not to get attached by any means to anyone, ever. Morpheus’ romantic frivolities were fascinating to watch, no doubt, but they were nothing she could afford. She was the eldest. She held it together so Destiny could remember. Simple. It was simple. That is how an eternity of existence had passed. Death worked alone. It was not her job to fix humanity, it was her job to observe, to learn and take. Enough cheaters existed already.

“You have to.” She whispered back. “I do not wish for you to feel pain.”

Enough cheaters, indeed. Yet, Death found herself holding Wanda’s hand tightly, her eyes firmly set on Wanda’s that shone in a dashing hazel colour. If she had a heart, the woman’s conviction and will would have certainly made it skip a beat. But she didn’t. Death was self aware enough to recognize attraction. She had very rarely felt it herself, but it was not as if she could ever act upon it. ‘Fucking a ghost is like a therapist fucking their client.’ She thought to herself. Still, her ether was moved.

‘There are enough exceptions. Enough cheaters.’ She was reminding herself like a mantra, hoping it would return her own unwavering principles. It did not. It only made her hold onto the dead woman even tighter (if that was even possible).

Then Wanda jumped, pulling up Death with her.

“Barbie!” Emerging from the pit of black clad mortals, was a woman, holding onto the arm of a man Wanda recognized in an instant. “The Mister!” she shouted, looking at Death. “I know this man.”

“I am sure you do.” Death nodded.

“No. I know him. I worked for him when I died.”

“I know.” Death sighed at the sight of her brother.

Morpheus, gallantly dressed as ever, was accompanying Barbie to the Wanda’s grave. His head turned towards the hill only once. He nodded, silently, as he usually did, then turned and re-engaged in a conversation with Barbie.

“I didn’t know they were acquaintances.”

“They are not. Barbie knows him as much as you know me.”

“Who is he really?”

“My stupid idiot of a brother.” Death turned her head to one side again. Wanda couldn’t tell if she did that when she was curious or agitated.

“So he can see us then?”

“Oh, yes. Even if he doesn’t want to.”

“And Barbie?” she asked, filled with hope, quickly shattered by Death’s gentle shake. “I understand.” The words forced themselves past her lips.

A shout interrupted the solemn conversation. Her aunt was shouting at Barbie, who wore the most outraged look on her face.

“You will not besmirch Alvin’s name with your lies!”

“Her name was Wanda.” Barbie’s shout far surpassed anything Wanda’s aunt could muster. She could always outshout anyone, Wanda smiled remembering all the times she had found that trait annoying. Now it felt more than welcomed. “She was a kind, understanding woman, who had all her life in front of her. She only ever did that stupid job because of you!”

“Now,you-“ the old woman raised her hand, prepared to strike Barbie for all her disobedience, but it never landed.

“I would advise against such displays of unnecessary violence.”

Death’s brother, that weird tall and lanky mister, sounded menacing. Wanda swore he did not sound like that mere days ago. The aunt let go without further fuss. The coffin was slid into the ground, covered with dirt and that was it. The crowd dispersed with no excitement, only exacerbated sighs and puffy from crying eyes.

Wanda could not help but roll her own. Death chuckled, then offered her hand once more.

“Come on. I will re-introduce you to him.”

Wanda took it, no questions asked. She thought she would take it dead or alive. Oh, how much she wished she could tell Barbie about this beautiful woman; the young divorcee would certainly find the story amusing.

“Brother!” Death led Wanda by the hand back down the hill and into the crowd.

“Sister.” His response was far calmer than the excited shout of Death and her waving. “Excuse me, miss Barbara.”

“Of course.” Barbie nodded in both directions, sniffling quietly under her nose.

“Wanda?” Death placed her other hand on her shoulder, but Wanda did not move. She watched as Barbie rubbed her tears away violently, smudging her intricate makeup; fell to her knees, while her white stocking rolled in the dirt; pulled out Wanda’s favourite lipstick – a decade old Mac in bright, bright pink, and with all the love in the world dragged it across Alvin Mann’s name, writing “Wanda” instead. Nothing more, just Wanda.

“I love you.” Barbie’s jaw was clenched, but she continued talking. “You were the closest I had ever had to a soulmate. I still think Ruby might have been a better name, but you loved Wanda too much. So, Wanda, don’t you dare leave me, you hear me?! In spirit, as a ghost, whatever. Don’t leave before I leave.” Barbie got up, dusted herself off and without saying goodbye, left.

Wanda couldn’t bear to look after her, but she did feel anger rise in her.

“I deserve my goodbye.” She turned her head to the Endless.

“You get what everyone gets, dear.” Death smiled quietly. “Nobody ever gets to settle all of their affairs.”

“I am not talking to you.” The curls on Wanda’s head bounced as she turned to the King of Dreaming. “You. I am dead because of you.”

Death barely contained the delightful laugh about to escape her. How full of surprises can a ghost be?

“One does not fare well exploiting me.” Death’s brother looked down upon her. For a moment Wanda felt fear, then remembered she is already dead and there was nothing more that could happen to her anyways. So she put her hands on her hips, looked up and with a silent pout demanded. He looked sternly over his sister. “Will you intervene, sister?”

“No.” Death trailed unsure. She felt herself tapping in waters unknown even to her. “I do not think I will, actually.”

The man sighed.

“Your punishment of me is wholly unnecessary.”

“I am not punishing you, Dream.” Death put her hands in her pockets, intrigued to see where the conversation went.

“Hey. I am still here. Here’s what – you let me say my goodbyes with whatever magic is it you have, and I don’t blame you for the rest of eternity.” Wanda held her own. She imagined the stronger she appeared the easier it was going to be convincing the man of her wishes. “All I want, Dream, is to say goodbye.” She bawled her hands in fists, but still refused to look away.

‘I will not die out quietly. I will not.’ Wanda repeated to herself, time and time again.

“Perhaps, I can offer you a different solution.” Dream began with composure. Death knew what he was about to do. He had the habit of picking up strays and she watched them all grow utterly devoted to him, each in their own way, but they were a loyal, close knitted group. She imagined Wanda amongst them. She didn’t like that thought. Her ether was pricked, she felt it as it twisted and turned in a knot.

For the first time in a long, long, long time Death felt the universe come out of its axis, as realisations she had hoped to never think of in their entirety clouded her judgement.

“He can offer you a goodbye, but that would be followed by servitude. I…” what was she doing? “I can offer you something better. You don’t want to go yet, do you?”

“Not if it can be helped.”

“It can be. I need…assistance moving souls from one place to another; delivering some messages of fright and finding missing souls.” She did not look at her brother in that moment, but Death certainly felt his almost mocking gaze upon her. ‘He will never let me live this down.’

“Alright.” Wanda nodded with no hesitation, grabbing onto Death’s hand.

“It is not a job for kind people.”

“I think I will fit the role of a mean ghost quite well.” Wanda rushed to lock their arms, giddy. Frankly, she thought Barbie would understand the desire to follow Death into…well, death, but more importantly she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Barbie quite yet. She could spent her time with the most beautiful, kind woman to exist and love her from afar, even possibly from up close, while waiting for her soulmate.

“I think so too.” Death whispered.

“Very well, then. Where do we begin?”

“I need to bid my brother farewell.”

“Of course.” She unwrapped herself from Death, pointing at the hill. “I will wait for you there, okay?”

“Yeah.” Death nodded.

Wanda ran, while Death remained, her nightly shadow behind her.

“Do not say anything.”

“I do find it especially amusing considering your strict convictions.”

“Morpheus?”

“Sister.”

“Zip it.”

Morpheus offered a coy smile.

“It is a refreshing moment, indeed.”

“Do you feel vindicated?”

“Very much so. Enjoy the misery of these humane feelings you love talking about so much, big sister. You will quickly find out, they do leave scars.” He finished on a sour note.

“Okay, okay. Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then go.” Death pulled his ear. “Get out of here.”

“Will you not ask me how she died?”

“No. I do not wish to know. I do not wish to be part of this concoction that is you and Delirium. It is too much. Even for me.”

“Very well, then. Good day sister.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind only the ghost of Wanda, who was smiling and waving as if she had been offered a whole new life.

“Come on!”

Death smiled and waved back.

She was perhaps allowed to cheat herself once in a while.

AN: I hope you enjoyed that. I am unsure whether I would do this again, probably not simply because I do wish to keep my blog exclusively about Nuala, however @orionsangel86 offered me kindness in the last week that I am eternally grateful for. So this is my present for them.

#death #death of the endless #death appreciation week #the sandman comic #the sandman #the sandman fic #death fic #wanda #wanda the sandman #death x wanda #sandman angst #sandman fluff #sandman wlw #wlw #wlw fic

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