#i have NO IDEA what i could have done to vex you so anon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inactiveanimeblog · 3 years

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HEYY the anon was me btw loll

what i WANTED to say before tumblr so RUDELY deleted my ask😒 was what if instead of the reader cheating on obito (which is what i usually see) obito gets super drunk one night and hooks up with someone. and when the reader finds out she’s devastated bc obito always tells her how much he loves her and this is the last thing she’d ever expect him to do,, and he apologizes and everything and ofc she’d forgive him she’s so madly in love with him blah blah blah.

anyways (this is kinda cliche lolll) one night they get into this huge argument and obito storms out and gets drunk and cheats on her (again) and he feels really guilty the next day and the reader always believes him when he says he’ll never do it again (spoiler!! he does it again) and their relationship will never be the same and it’s just overall super toxic.😆

and ik this is super OOC for obito cuz he’s a simp in the show lmaooo, but i rlly love your writing and i thought you might like this idea and ik your requests are closed nd i’m so so sorry but i really had to leave this in your inbox asap😣

P.S I KNOW YOU SAID YOU DONT LIKE IT WHEN THE READER GETS CHEATED ON BUT PLEASE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE😩😩 and srry for any grammar mistakes lmao

tw : toxicity, manipulation, cheating, break up, angst

OMG R U TRYING TO MAKE ME SAD ;( NOT WITH MY FAV CHARACTER NOOOO! READERS LEAVING HIS ASS! even tho i love obito more than anything. also not really a fic but just a quick lil drabble ! hope this is fine <3

this is the second time obito’s done this. cheat on you. the first time he did, broke you and almost broke your relationship. however after a long talk and trying to understand where he was coming from, you forgave him. you didn’t think he was gonna do it again, you know he loves you. but hearing him say those words once more, you questioned if he ever truly did love you.

“i promise y/n i didn’t mean it.”

“please i love you so much.”

“don’t leave me. you’re all i have.”

it pained you to leave him. the cracks in his voice while he was trying hard not to cry replaying in your mind. you’re very well aware how sorry he is, but after this happening yet again you can’t trust him. sometimes you wonder if you shouldn’t have been so hard on him while you were leaving.

“i’m packing my shit and staying at a friends until i get my own place.”

“i don’t ever wanna hear from you again.”

“don’t bother trying to see me anymore. we’re done.”

he stood in the doorway, tears brimming in his eyes while watching you pack everything up. every second he watched you, his heart broke a little bit more. he would have done anything to keep you from leaving, even blocking you from door.

“move out of my way obito.”

“i can’t. i don’t want you to leave.”

he even went as far as taking your luggage and throwing it back on the bed, trying to unpack everything again. at this point you were agitated, tired, and broken. you took your things out of his hands and placed them back in the suitcase, not once looking him in his eyes. you knew if you looked at him, then you wouldn’t have the courage to leave.

“y/n look at me. we can fix this.”

“it won’t happen again, it was a mistake.”

“obito, i swear to fucking god. don’t do this to me right now. can’t you see where i’m coming from? you cheated on me not once, but twice. you’re so selfish, you think you can do whatever you want, then come home and have the nerve and tell me you regret it? i was worried sick about you last night, wondering where you were, calling your phone, and you didn’t even come back until this morning.”

there was nothing he could say that would make you stay with him, it would have been a miracle if you did stay. his anger replaced his sadness and he threw a few things around the room, his voice got louder, and a vexed look was on his face.

“i don’t understand why you can’t forgive me.”

“this is childish y/n, stop acting like a kid.”

“you don’t love me, if you did you would stay.”

you’re almost glad he started saying these things, because if he didn’t you knew you would have missed him much more. you knew what he was doing, you knew he was trying to manipulate you into staying with him. and it wasn’t gonna work, not this time.

you grabbed your things without saying a word, completely ignoring the temper tantrum he was throwing, and threw everything in your car. he watched you the entire time, his yelling falling on deaf ears, and the last thing you said to him was

“i hope you learn your lesson obito.”

before pulling out of the driveway and leaving.

tears finally fell down your face and sobs escaped your mouth while driving to your best friends house. this was gonna be a lot harder to get over than you thought.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader #naruto headcanons #akatsuki #akatsuki imagines #uchiha x reader #akatsuki x reader #obito uchiha scenario #obito headcanons #obito uchiha x reader

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hexfloog · 3 years

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hex, my beloved, would you share your thoughts on the diplomat murder case with the class

Weeeelllll... if you insist, anon :3

Hex Goes Off(TM) again below the break, surpriiisssee

As it turns out, The Diplomat Murder Case is responsible for a lot of my current HCs about Shinichi/Conan. It's my favorite of the transformation arcs, it's the very first one-- and thus the hardest-hitting, at least when you get to experience it blind-- and also our introduction to transience as a theme, though admittedly I'm probably a bit biased here... Babby Hex has fond memories of sneaking out of bed to watch this one when it still had a slot on the early morning block, so I often come back to these two episodes wearing nostalgia glasses.

Branching off that, I should probably start by saying that for episodes 1-123, I am almost exclusively familiar with the Funimation dub only, which... as the fanbase knows... has its fair share of strange and silly localization choices. I personally find much of it charming and it has no effect on the story or its appeal for me... except when it does (more on that later).

So despite having lost track of how many times I've rewatched this case, my thoughts on it are actually quite scattered - it's the starting place for a lot of the DCMK ideas I currently subscribe to, but those ideas gained their traction in other places (cough, The Desperate Revival, cough), so I apologize beforehand if these aren't bookended well and also idk how to lead into them so IT'S LIST TIME

1) Vices and Expectations

At the time, the idea of Shinichi returning to normal-- let alone temporarily-- was likely one only being entertained by the audience as the setup for (if not the result of) the grand finale. I remember it surprising me, and it's a hell of a move to put forth such a scenario in the first place, only to take it back. Shinichi himself believes the transformation is permanent until it becomes... horribly apparent that it isn't. It's a nasty surprise for everyone, the nastiest of them all (being the very first in a long line of GOT 'EMs), and I think that as a result this is arguably the most powerless he's ever been in his own body, at least for a while. The depiction of the pain he endures is frightening (something I feel is lost in later transformations): freezing on the surface, but burning beneath the skin... like bones made of magma as they die within the flesh-- his heart beating out of his own chest, faster and faster, harder and harder as if to escape its own agony-- the world blurs, nausea takes hold, balance wavering-- 'This is no longer your fortress,' he hears it whisper in his ear... TBH how he can even think coherently at this stage is lost on me. It's shown to be a debilitating process of physical self-destruction and I don't believe for a second someone could acclimate to it, even after repeated transformations which is lowkey why it bothers me a bit that these feel less weighty as time goes on. Control is Shinichi's domain, and the uncertainty which plagues him as he painfully returns to Conan is a peek behind the curtain, a glimpse of the mortality he-- for all his bravado and cool, calm exterior-- is still very capable of realizing.

Although not nearly as dramatic as the next transformation, I personally find this to be a cruel little hint towards Shinichi's vices. Up til now we have not had many (any?) opportunities to explore what really-- and I mean really-- makes him tick. The recklessness he falls prey to when he thinks his old life is within reach again (see: literally every time he's tempted by The Antidote) is teased here-- not overtly, mind, but this first experience with temporary normalcy introduces the idea of hope to Shinichi's world, and the expectation that he can come back to it, actually, is suddenly set. Even if for a brief moment, we see the hands which have wound his potential to self-destruct...

2) Othering

I mentioned in a previous tirade post that the Funimation dub adds some interesting dialogue which is absent from the JP version:

"... From my own mouth, not his!"

...But is substantiated by dialogue which is present in the original:

"Am I turning back into that kid again?!"

"...With my real mouth... and my real voice..."

I find it so, so intriguing that this early on, it's already implied that Shinichi thinks of Conan as an entity separate from himself, despite that obviously not being the case and especially considering that-- here, at episode 49/50-- Conan hasn't really been present for long enough to establish himself as Conan (Ran sleuthing out his Real Identity is still a very real threat at this point, after all). Shinichi rarely mentions Conan by name throughout the case, in all other instances referring to him as something else-- "that kid with the glasses--" and... idk, to me that indicates shame, or fear, or resentment, and just reeks of plain animosity. I know for the sake of appearances he needed to Other Conan in front of Ran and Heiji, but when he's alone with his thoughts... it's not necessary to actively think of Conan like something to be hated unless he really feels that way, unless he really feels vexed by this child, this thing that is both him and not.

I dunno, I just find that fascinating. That one Funimation line is single-handedly responsible for this whole entire HC in my head ahahaaa

3) Heiji, and Hope

My angst-brain is constantly honing in on Shinichi, but The Diplomat Murder Case is pretty important for introducing Heiji, too!! Kaito won't see his DC debut for another twenty or so episodes, so imo it's Heiji, debuting as a rival detective, who first introduces the idea of a possible foil for Shinichi. This... obviously doesn't pan out this way-- quite the opposite-- and the entire premise of Heiji seeking out The Great Detective of the East as his "thousandth sword" only carries a lot more weight after the parallels to Benkei and Yoshitsune are made more plain in Crossroad in the Ancient Capital. So for all intents and purposes (especially since the Funimation dialogue was changed around quite a bit), Hattori's appearance here isn't particularly outstanding in itself aside from being his first, except...

...Except Heiji also introduces the baijiu here, the catalyst for this entire arc and my subsequent observations, the vehicle through which Shinichi becomes aware that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and the knowledge of which Conan repeatedly draws upon whenever the antidote comes up. Given that Heiji eventually discovers Shinichi's secret and, in their friendship, serves as one of his lifelines to his former self (as "companionship," in my head... more on that in another post, maybe), I find it... very striking that he would be the first one to deliver him hope. Good God.

Like Kaito, I want to think about Heiji more in-depth too, but there are better episodes for it... Murderer, Shinichi Kudo

eeeEEEEE okay i'm done tysm for letting me screm anon this case has a special place in my top ten aaAAAaaaahaha

#ask #anon #dcmk #detective conan #kudou shinichi #shinichi kudo #headcanon #internal screaming hours #text #the diplomat murder case #long post #hattori heiji

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haphazardlyparked · 3 years

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blanket apology

to @rrrawrf-writes, @vexed-hexed-perplexed and Best Anon (and any and all others who feel i owe them an apology) because i am a terrible person

here is some real actual fluffy content, the edited young victoria-inspired AU with Masara and Hikaj. i might’ve rewatched the movie. i promise it is full of nice moments.

-----

“Lord Prince Panam,” the queen says when Panam enters the room. She stands at the windows at the far side of the audience chamber, with her back to him. Panam grinds his teeth together silently. She wouldn’t be here, as queen, if it weren’t for him. And she won’t even face him.

“Your Majesty,” Panam says, letting cool displeasure touch his tone.

Queen Masara turns from the windows. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t move to sit, and doesn’t gesture for him to sit either. Nor, Panam realizes, does she look at all chastened.

Suddenly hesitant—then brutally quashing the instinct—Panam crosses half the room, just to the edge of a sofa. He's seen hints of this Masara before, calm and sure of herself, but never with him. He thought he'd made sure of that.

“I hear you have been out voted, Prince Panam,” Masara says serenely, still at the window. But she’s looking at him now, and Panam sees how much effort it takes her. Not yet an opening, but he can make it one. “I might have sworn you once promised me you were never going to lose power.”

Panam clenches his fists. “I have been a loyal prime minister. I have guided us most capably through the war and successfully overseen the assimilation of the newest territories," he reminds her.

“You began the war,” Masara replies, still calm. “And I was foolish enough to allow you to do so, and kingdom we have swallowed may yet become a poison."

“Your people love you for what I have done," Panam says, cold and proud. Her greatest victories are his, and she would be a nothing queen, beloved by no one if not for Lord Prince Panam.

“My people love me because I am queen.”

Panam works his mouth silently, too furious to put words to all the ways he is being used by all this ungrateful disrespect.

"You will not accept a new government," Panam says instead, cool, ready to brook no argument. You will request a new vote."

Masara meets his furious gaze straight on, which only incites Panam further.

"I have already met with Duke Inarim," she says. The name strikes Panam like an open-handed slap to the face; he almost would have preferred the violence. "He will be Lord Duke when I open the Grand Assembly."

“When was this?” Panam demands.

“Yesterday, when I invited him to form a government. He has some very good ideas I am looking forward to seeing in the coming years,” Masara says coolly, politely. “And I have written to invite Prince Hokiraj to stay with us for a while. You should not feel obliged to call on him. It would be wisest if you kept your distance, in fact. Given your intimate involvement in the war we just ended, as you just reminded me.”

---

"There’s an update to the ball," Lord Kinlo crows over the letter. "To celebrate the fifth year of Queen Masara's reign."

Hikaj stares sullenly at the ceiling, sprawled over his mother's old fainting sofa. "What does this matter to me, Kinlo?" he growls.

He remembers the first year of Masara's reign, when his father was still alive. Hikaj had been at the coronation, and watched as the new queen twirled like a pretty doll in the arms of her second cousin--a prince and Lord of the Great Assembly. Hikaj had been introduced to her as well, and they had danced briefly. Protocol had required that she dance with him, as he represented his father, the ailing old king at the time, and she had been--well.

She was elegance itself. And the dance was as well as it could have been, kind in its brevity, as it did not give Hikaj time to put his foot too much in his mouth.

Hikaj doubts she remembers that. And besides, she has emerged from the shadow of her cousin the prime minister, a queen in her own right, while he has grown... much differently.

"She's named her partner for the opening dance," Kinlo announces.

"Are you sure you haven't received an invitation, Highness? A personal letter, perhaps?"

"Oh, shut up Kinlo," Hikaj complains, mulish. "Of course I received the invitation, and of course I'm ignoring it for as long as I can. I'm a vassal prince. That barely means anything.”

Kinlo says nothing, but looks very thoughtful.

Thoughtful enough that Hikaj puts aside his sour mood for long enough to be curious.

"Tell me," he says after a minute. "What are you hiding? O what have I missed in my petulance?"

Kinlo grinned. "Our queen Masara has named you to open the dance with her," he said, without any preamble.

Hikaj sat up straight so quickly, he felt something in his neck crack.

"Kinlo," he said, "That is not a funny joke."

Kinlo waved a thick card decorated with marked with blue and silver and curling script, and a small envelope sealed by silver-grey wax with a large, visible M.

"If it’s a joke, highness," he said, laughing, “I’m not the one playing it.”

Hikaj flopped back on the fainting couch almost bonelessly, and flung an arm over his eyes. His head buzzed with possibilities, with endless avenues of action, things he could finally do for Kas with the queen's attention.

"Oh gods, Kinlo," he said. "Open it quickly and break it to me easy. I don’t think I can handle this."

----

The queen allowed the prince the choice of music; and Hikaj, who remembered how Masara had mentioned the Kassan waltz with interest during their brief conversation, chose a traditional--native--piece.

The queen must have learned the steps during the war, because she did not object to Hikaj's choice; nor did she object to a Kassan waltz opening the ball in honor of her reign as queen of Amir (and Damira, and now Kas).

They didn't speak to each other before they danced. That wasn't the Amirran custom--partners should meet first on the dance floor. A lady had to be danced with before she could be spoken to.

When the first unmistakeable notes of the music Hikaj had chosen were played, loud and drawn out, the room moved easily to allow space in their center. Hikaj stepped out, before Masara, and bowed deeply. Very deeply.

Masara caught his hand, and pulled him upright with a gentle but firm tug. "Prince Hokiraj," she said softly, "I hope you do not think yourself so low in my eyes.”

Hikaj brought Masara's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles, beginning the dance with a proper greeting. Taking up her other hand, Hikaj stepped in close. The music began in earnest with this signal.

"Your Majesty," Hikaj murmured, in the space between them where the steps brought them yet closer. “You have become a powerful queen since we last danced, and I am yet a prince.” He would never wear his father’s crown.

He spun the queen out, in measured, elegant steps, and then they drew in close to circle each other again. Hikaj stared at the air above them, where their wrists were delicately twined, though not yet touching. It was only the first pass of the dance, after all.

“You may never be king, as you thought,” Masara said, as unflinching with this truth as with any other—but when Hikaj looked down at her face in surprise, he saw kindness in her dark eyes, an understanding that did not shy from what she had stolen from him. “But that does not mean you cannot have what you have always wanted.”

They separated, and when they came together again, Masara continued, “There is always the possibility of a new Lord Prince of the Assembly.”

Hikaj said nothing for a long moment, lost in the dance and in that renewed fluttering of possibilities, of what could be done with power. The steps were slow, elegant but comparatively easy—no excuse for his silence. Finally, when they made a closed circle once more, he asked, “Are you asking me to stand in your government?”

Masara’s reply was instant, laughing, delivered across the slowly opening space between them. “I do not choose who stands in the Great Assembly.”

“Then what is it you would have of me?”

But the dance, Hikaj realized with a start, was over. He was already bowing over Masara's hand, a far more natural courtesy, and the queen inclined her head. On impulse, Hikaj kissed the only ring she wore.

He was rewarded with a smile as the dance floor around them filled in with the swish of skirts and murmured greetings. It was surprised and delighted, almost shy too, and Hikaj knew, instantly, that he could die for a woman who smiled at him like that.

You are disgustingly dramatic, a voice suspiciously like Kinlo's said in Hikaj's head, but Hikaj was very practiced at ignoring it.

He offered the queen his arm. "I have danced with you, Your Majesty, and I believe that means I am now free to say again: what is it that you ask of me?"

The queen let herself be led from the dance floor, couples swirling away as they passed, and back in again behind them.

“Only that you call me Masara, if you wish."

Hikaj tried not to swallow his tongue.

"And, perhaps," the queen added, "a little advice."

"You dance the waltz beautifully, Masara," Hikaj said instantly. "You can't want for advice there."

Masara looked amused. "No; fortunately a waltz is something I may practice in private a thousand times."

“Your practice has made you a wonderful dancer,” Hikaj assured her.

“But I fear I do not have quite so much time, when it comes to peace with Kas,” the queen replied, soft and serious now. Anyone might have heard them, in the ballroom, but for the invisible barrier of space afforded to them by respect and protocol.

Hikaj suddenly felt like he was seventeen again, in that moment when he'd realized Masara's quiet reserve hid more than the puppet of Lord Prince Panam. That flash of insight had startled Hikaj into more honesty than he would've preferred. He's lamented about his father's war and what it had done to his people, in the short, insufficient space left by a dance... But here was that honesty returned to him.

Five years later, when Hikaj was the age now that Queen Masara had been then.

"I think we are more forgiving than you fear," Hikaj said. "If you came to visit us, and stayed with us a little--show Kas what we are gaining for all that we have lost. Give us consolation."

Masara huffed a laugh. "Hokiraj, I am not so naive as to think that alone will do it."

"No," Hikaj agreed. "But just wait until they see you dance." He cupped his hand and held it out, like the some of the last poses of the dance, and Masara curved hers above it as if they sheltered some soft thing together. "Then all Kas will know there is more to you than a metal gauntlet."

#writing #self indulgent 2021 #more like thesis avoidance 2021 #masara #hikaj #actual true not lying to you nice content #i apologize

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years

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prompt idea - sam/steve/bucky

bucky and steve start calling sam by 40s pet names as a joke but sam discovers he actually likes it but doesn’t know how to tell them.

Hello! Sorry this took so long (vampire anon, that's also taking so long but it is also being so long. I haven't forgotten about it. I just love vampires)

Read on AO3 under the same title by ElisabethMonroe

An Incomplete Dream

As with all things that vexed him, Sam Wilson’s newest problem was started by Bucky Barnes.

“Stevie, don’t he look like the most perfect picture of angelface?” Bucky asked, turning away from Sam, though his metal fingers didn’t loosen around Sam’s wrists, which he was holding over Sam’s head.

Steve looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, even without having to look at Sam. “He sure does, Buck,” he agreed and finished pulling his shirt off over his head.

“Angelface?” Sam asked, just to antagonize Bucky.

Bucky shifted over Sam, ground his thigh a little closer to Sam’s groin. Never close enough to give any real friction, just the teasing promise of more to come. It was about the only time Bucky had any self control, when Steve was around to tell them not to have too much fun without him. And Steve, unfortunately, managed to have the patience of a fucking saint when it meant it got Sam and Bucky harder than sin.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky purred, dropped his face to Sam’s neck to trail his mouth along his skin. Sam would pretend like that was what had his legs falling open. The kissing and not the words. “Means you look like somethin’ Heaven sent.”

“That’s heavy,” Steve said, reappearing from the bathroom in briefs that Sam was pretty sure he’d bought him. Or maybe they were just Sam’s. “But not wrong,” he added as he climbed into the bed and straddled Sam’s hips. Bucky shifted too, staying out of Steve’s way but continuing to hold Sam’s wrists down. Sam pouted up at him. Bucky ignored him and leaned over to kiss Steve instead.

“How ‘bout you give your angel something to work with?” Sam suggested eventually, pouting out his lower lip again. Steve leaned down to kiss it away.

“Good morning, dollface,” Bucky greeted the next morning. Steve looked up from his newspaper with a fond grin. Sam tilted his head to offer his cheek for their mandatory morning kisses. Bucky skipped his cheek and went for his neck, an arm draping over Sam’s shoulder to run his hand down Sam’s bare chest.

“You haven’t said dollface in a while,” Steve said and brought his coffee up to his lips.

“You ain’t got one no more,” Bucky said. Sam could feel him look up from his nook in Sam’s neck and Sam could only imagine the look he was throwing Steve.

“What happened to angelface?” Sam asked.

“Liked that one, huh?” Bucky said. He kissed Sam’s cheek and went off in search of breakfast.

“They’re all corny,” Sam said. It wasn’t really a lie. They were corny. He was allowed to like corny things.

Steve hooked his foot on the back of Sam’s ankle and it took all Sam had not to visibly react. It was insane that they could still have this effect on him. “Don’t be mean, dollface,” he drolled with the same easy grin he’d shot Bucky.

Sam sprawled over the breakfast bar, cheeks burning. He heard Bucky laugh.

“Steve!” Sam yelped and hurried to the stove to get a pot off the burner before all the water boiled over. “I gave you one job.”

Steve looked sheepish and he shrugged helplessly as he gestured to a bowl he was mixing some kind of cake batter in. “It was either the noodles or the cake. I know which one Bucky would prefer to get done.”

Sam rolled his eyes and bumped his hip into Steve's as he carried the pot to the sink to drain it. “He may say he wants the cake more, but we both know he puts carbs away like he’ll never eat again.”

For a second, the realization that it may very well be a survival instinct for him settled over the both of them. Then Steve shook his head and crammed himself into the corner, trying and failing very hard to be small.

“Hey, sugar, can you grab me the sugar?” he laughed.

Sam rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Corny, Rogers. So damn corny.” But he got the sugar and passed it over. He was not surprised when Steve caught him around the waist, spinning him in a lazy dance even though the oven and stove were both still on and he hadn’t so much as measured out his sugar.

“He's special ration,” Steve sang, twirling them around a kitchen not designed for it. “Funny, he never asks for my money. All that I give him is honey. And that he can spend any time.”

Sam looked up when the door opened, but Steve didn’t even stumble, so Sam got Bucky’s bemused expression all to himself.

“I'd make a million trips to his lips, if I were a bee. Because he's sweeter than chocolate candy to me. He's confectionery, that sugar baby of mine.”

“It’s my birthday but you’re serenading him?” Bucky asked, cutting in between them to wrap his arms around Sam’s waist, picking up on the dance like he’d started it.

“You don’t call me dollface anymore,” Steve said with a shrug. He turned back to his cake and Sam dropped his face to Bucky’s shoulder. They swayed slightly, taking small steps now and again, pasta forgotten for now.

“Yeah, Sam’s my new dollface and he gets to give me my gift first.”

“Do I, now? And you know what that gift is, I’m assuming.”

“Sure I do,” Bucky said. He reached for a red bow that had been left on the breakfast bar and smacked it onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam was just about to make a joke when Bucky peeled it off and put it on the waistband of Sam’s pants instead. “Sounds like you’ve got a little sweetness to spare, sugar,” he purred and pulled him back towards the couch.

Steve could handle pasta and cake at the same time, Sam decided. And if he couldn’t...at least they’d have dessert.

Sam turned over in bed and opened his eyes to find Bucky already looking at him, sleepy and only half awake. One of the best ways for him to be, Sam thought.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, reaching over to brush a curl back into the mop on Bucky’s head.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured back. Sam felt his stomach curl in on itself in elation. It was a little painful, but Sam was realizing most of his reactions to Bucky and Steve were adoration and pain in equal measure sometimes.

“Think Steve’s gonna be out of it all morning?” Sam asked.

Bucky’s mouth curled to the side. “He did take a robot to the side of the head,” he pointed out. “I ain’t seen him bruise like that since he was little.”

Sam grimaced in sympathy for Steve. He had been pretty banged up the night before. He really should’ve been with med, but of course he wasn’t. Of course he was in bed instead, having to sleep with his back to Sam and Bucky because he couldn’t sleep on his right side. Sam shifted over, supporting himself on his elbow, to look over his shoulder at Steve’s sleeping figure.

“The swelling’s already half down,” he said, turning back over in time for Bucky to kiss his forearm. “He better sleep until it’s almost all healed.”

“Hopefully,” Bucky agreed, kissing up his arm to his wrist. “You’re a sweetheart for worrying,” he said pointedly.

“I didn’t argue last time you said it,” Sam laughed softly. He freed his hand from where he’d tucked it under his pillow, and Bucky kissed his palm and then along his fingers.

“I just like saying it. Sweetheart. It was my favorite back in the day.”

“Back when you had game?” Sam asked.

Bucky growled playfully, leaning over to nip at Sam’s lips, sleep still making their movements and words slow and languid. “I’ve got plenty of game. I’ve got the two most beautiful men in the world in my bed every night. But, nah. I never used it on dames. Not like this. This is all yours and Steve’s.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, pushing his fingers through the hair curling around Bucky’s ear.

“‘Cause it’s what Sarah used to call me and Steve. I don’t wanna use it on anyone I don’t fully love,” Bucky said, like it was simple, obvious, not world shattering.

Sam fell into Bucky, kissing him between whispers of sweetheart.

The antiseptic of hospitals always set Sam on edge. When he was thirteen and his grandmother had gotten sick, he’d lost count of the nights he’d spent in hospital rooms and waiting areas. He still clearly remembered a doctor walking into one waiting room to talk to a family near Sam’s. He remembered the blood on the doctor’s pant leg and the sudden rush of mortality that hit him all at once.

Being in pararescue meant he spent a good chunk of his service time in and out of hospitals too. Not necessarily for himself or Riley, though that was a cause too, but just to do his job. Put people in beds, continue field triage, check in on patients who didn’t have anyone else. Even in the desert, that smell filled the air.

Tonight, it creeped beneath his skin too, even though he was half running through the halls, even though there were bandages around his head, even though he was pretty sure he had serious sinus damage under his broken nose. He knew what the hospital smelled like.

The only thing that stopped him was a thick arm around his chest, as gentle as could be given the circumstances, though it still hurt like a bitch. It didn’t stop him grasping for the door handle. “Bucky,” he gasped out, ribs and lung both protesting, fingernails scratching futilely at the arm around him.

“Hang on, Sam. Just wait a second,” Steve said, reaching for his waist instead of his chest with a muttered apology. Sam couldn’t remember reacting, giving himself away. Maybe Steve had just gotten his med eval.

“I need to see him. They wouldn’t say anything. I had him, I was holding him,” he insisted. “I didn’t drop him.”

“Sam,” Steve breathed and finally managed to turn Sam’s wild eyes from the door to his own face. “Do you have a concussion?” Probably, but Sam didn’t know for sure to say. “You were shot down. You didn’t let go of him.”

Sam blinked up at Steve and it felt like it took ten years. “No. I saw… I saw him fall…”

Steve shook his head, brought his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. When his eyes flickered over Sam’s shoulder, Sam finally clocked all of the doctors in the hall, people saying his name, someone reaching for his arm before Steve shooed them away gently.

“You both fell, Sam. You need to be in a hospital bed too. I can’t believe you’re walking, Jesus.”

“Just me,” Sam said weakly. “I hear the resemblance is uncanny.” It was Bucky’s joke and the fact that he wasn’t here to make it had terror clutching at Sam’s heart again. “Please let me see him. I can’t stand this image in my head.”

Steve’s hands were gentle on his face, but relentless. Sam couldn’t turn back to the door.

“What’s wrong with him? Why aren’t you letting me in? Why aren’t you by his side?” he whimpered, hands coming up to clutch at Steve’s wrists.

“He’s not awake,” Steve said.

“They knocked him out? How?”

Steve’s features seemed to all screw in pain. “No. He was in and out of consciousness himself. He hasn’t woken up since the last time.”

“Oh my God, is he dead?” Sam cried, then swayed on his feet with the sudden cold blood rush.

“No, no, Sam, no. He’s not dead,” Steve assured and pulled Sam into his chest to hug him as tightly as gentleness and care would allow. “He’s just unconscious.”

“Let me in. Let me see him,” Sam said again. “Even if he isn’t awake. I just need--” His face fell to Steve’s shoulder as exhaustion caught up to him.

“Can we get a bed…?” Steve asked quietly like his mouth wasn’t right next to Sam’s head. But maybe he had the right idea because there was an ensuing conversation that Sam missed entirely.

The next time he clocked in, Steve was laying him down in a hospital bed. There was a cloth divider, but Sam knew the sound of Bucky breathing. He was so close. Steve tucked Sam’s arm back under the blanket when Sam reached over.

“Hey, easy, angel. Just try to sleep, okay? They’ll get your IVs reset.”

“I had IVs?” Sam asked and hated how his voice slurred.

“Oh, yeah. You took them all out. Very well, by the way. You’re hardly bleeding.”

Sam had put enough of them into other people, he thought he should know how to get them back out. Even concussed.

“You’re just gonna have to settle for me for now,” Steve said when Sam looked over at Bucky’s side again. He settled in a chair that was too small for him and held onto the hand Sam had freed again, keeping it firmly on the bed.

“I don’t settle for you,” Sam muttered. “Just wanna see him.”

“I know, angel. Just go to sleep. You’ll see him in a few hours.”

A few hours was sixteen, as it turned out. “What the hell is this?” Sam heard as he fought against the grit behind his eyelids. “Even national icons--incredibly dangerous assassins even--can’t get their own room?”

Sam sat up, swayed, and had to put his hands on the bed to keep himself upright. At the end of the partition, Sam saw Steve see him, saw a grin pull at his tired face. “Nah, Buck. You just had a gentleman caller last night. I had to keep him in the living room for a while,” he joked. Sam didn’t get it. Well, maybe he did. But he didn’t want to fight through the pulsing stuffing in his head to figure it out.

Steve stepped over to him, helped him stand, offered a wheelchair. “I don’t need a damn wheelchair. I hit my head, not my legs,” Sam snapped, though it came out soft and whiny.

“You hit everything,” Steve said.

But it didn’t matter, because Sam could see the figure in the next bed over shoot upright too. “A gentleman caller?” Bucky said. “Was he handsome?”

“Well, I think so,” Steve said as he helped get Sam’s arm around his shoulders. “I’d take him home with me. You’re lucky I was so patient as to give you a chance to save your date.”

Bucky laughed and Sam just about collapsed at the sound. “Trust me, I could win any gentleman caller back from you.”

“Sure you could, Buck,” Steve said. Finally they started moving around the curtain partition and finally Sam got to see Bucky. They had matching head bandages and there were plenty more creeping out of the paper shirt he was in.

It was a good thing Steve was holding him up because Sam’s knees went out from under him. Steve gently deposited him on the bed and Bucky and he fell together, bandages pressed to bandages as foreheads found resting places together.

“Sammy,” Bucky breathed and brought taped fingers up to Sam’s cheek, his jaw, his lips, his chin. The metal arm was disconnected and Sam wondered if it had been damaged too. “I was so fucking scared. I saw you fall--”

“No,” Sam insisted again. “That’s what they said last night too. But I saw you--” he started.

“No, you fell first,” Bucky said. “You put yourself under me.”

Steve’s fingers rubbed at the back of Sam’s neck. “Told you. You didn’t drop him.”

“Nah,” Bucky agreed. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut was gleaming with fondness and adoration. “A perfect gentleman, you were. My gentleman caller.”

Sam let out a shaky breath and held his hand over Bucky’s chest, just to feel his heartbeat.

“Hey, doll, will you give me the controller?” Steve asked. Sam barely looked up from his phone, only adjusted his feet on the coffee table to give Bucky the room he’d need to hand over the remote.

Steve’s toes dug into Sam’s thigh and Sam lifted his leg enough to get Steve’s toes under him. But then he kept squirming until Sam finally looked up with an unheated glare. “Do you need something?” he asked.

“Yeah, the controller,” Steve said again. “Jeez, you mad at me for something, angel?” he asked.

“No? Why would I be?”

“I’ve asked you twice now for the controller and you haven’t moved.”

“You didn’t ask me. I figured Bucky was getting it.”

Steve’s face crumbled in confusion before a wry grin cut over it. “Where do you think Bucky is?”

Sam looked over at the weird egg shaped chair Bucky liked to curl up in. It was empty. So was the kitchen and the loveseat that was too short for any of them to actually lay on but Bucky liked to do it anyway.

“He left, like, an hour ago,” Steve said. “I asked you.”

“But...you said doll. You only ever call Bucky doll.”

“Do I?” Steve asked.

“Up until this moment, yeah,” Sam said, feeling a little embarrassed and heated.

Steve freed his feet so he could get his knees under him and lean over to Sam. “Well,” he said, kissing Sam’s jaw, “consider this me granting you the pet name too,” he murmured. “I like to use it when I’m undeniably happy. And you make me undeniably happy.”

“You’re full of shit,” Sam laughed, pushing Steve’s face away. “You call him doll in every argument you’ve ever had in front of me.”

Steve shrugged. “It wears him down faster than logic.”

Sam got the appeal. “Do it again.”

Steve grinned. “Make me, doll,” he breathed.

Sam leaned over to kiss him.

“Can we talk about something?” Sam asked finally. The words just fell out of his mouth. It was certainly not the ideal moment he was thinking about waiting for. Steve was reorganizing their colognes on the large chest-of-drawers, even though Bucky was just going to mess it all up again in the morning, and Bucky was doing situps on the floor in sweatpants that he kept taking out of the trash when Sam tried to throw them away.

“Sure, darlin’,” Bucky said, sounding like a sin all breathless and Brooklyn. He sat up and braced his elbow on the side of the bed. “What’s up?”

“Actually,” Sam started and rubbed at his elbow, “that’s what I wanted to talk about.” When Steve and Bucky pulled the same confused expression, Sam moved to the bed and sat down on it. His heart just about burst when both of them moved to sit by him. Steve took a hand in his and Bucky rubbed at his thigh.

“It’s stupid alright. You don’t have to worry like this,” he said and felt a little bit of the tension melt off of his partners. “It’s just...you know, when Bucky first started the whole pet name thing, it was a joke, right? You were just teasing me,” he said.

“Was I?” Bucky asked. Steve pinched his side behind Sam’s back.

“And that was fine,” Sam assured. “I liked it. I like seeing you two smile ‘cause of it. Like that you found a way to bring stuff from back then to now with you.”

“Does it...make you uncomfortable?” Steve asked. And Sam could almost see him try to figure out if there was something offensive in a name like angel.

“No, that’s not… I just… Recently it’s become...heavier, I guess? It feels like it means more.”

“Again, are we sure I was taking the piss out of you before?” Bucky repeated. Steve pinched him again.

“I just wanna know what it means, is all. Because...I really like it. I like it every time you say it. Every single one of them.”

“Angel,” Steve and Bucky said at the same time. Sam shuddered enough to jar his shoulder against Steve’s.

“Shit, you do like it,” Bucky said.

“Are you asking… Are you worried about more than just the pet names?” Steve asked. “Like...are you asking how serious we all are?”

Sam’s fingers tightened around Steve’s hand. He hoped he wasn’t hurting him because he wasn’t sure he could make his fingers unclasp at that point. “It’s this thing between the two of you. These names and stuff. I ain’t heard no one call someone doll since my friend’s great-grandparents renewed their vows when I was a kid. And don’t even get me started on darling. Not the way you two say it. You mean it.

“And I didn’t know how I fit into that. It felt like you were testing out how I fit with the two of you,” he finally admitted. He wanted the words to lift the constriction out of his chest. Instead, it just lifted it to his throat so he could barely keep on talking. “I thought maybe I liked it a lot more than the two of you did,” he said, not talking about the names anymore, not really. “And I was scared you’d give up. But then it got serious, right? And I had to try’n figure out what was going on. So...what is going on?”

“Oh, Sammy,” Bucky breathed and wrapped an arm around Sam’s middle to hug him. “It’s been dead-serious since the moment it started,” he said. “It’s not goin’ nowhere. Not the names and damn sure not me.”

“Of course it’s serious,” Steve agreed, pressing his forehead to Sam’s temple. “We haven’t ever tried to fit you into anything. You already do fit everywhere. It was something we were missing before you. Not a space we rearranged for you.”

“Fuck,” Sam breathed, tried to laugh it out but the tears were evident in it.

“And if you were gonna panic about pet names this much,” Bucky added, because he always knew how to make Sam laugh and break the tension. “You shoulda worked on not having such a perfect angelface.”

Sam did laugh.

“Lucky you got angelface,” Steve said on his other side, putting his arms around Sam’s waist too. “Apparently you can lose the dollface designation.”

Sam laughed again and clutched at the arms around him. “Alright, my loves,” he said and felt something tremor through both of the other men. This was a two way street. “You can call me anything you want as long as you kiss me right after.”

“Sure, angel,” Bucky said.

“Anything you want, doll,” Steve agreed.

He got a kiss on either cheek. And then many, many more afterwards.

#sambucky #stevesam #all caps #the falcon and the winter soldier #captain america #writing #i answer things

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Note

hello :) could i get some scenario with Ace and Deuce reation to MC fainting from exhaustion? I recently went through this

Hello, Anon.

I’m sorry to hear that you went through such a thing. I hope you are alright now, and that reading this imagine will brighten up your day.

***Warning: slight spoilers for the prologue and the ending of chapter 4 in the main story campaign.***

Imagine this...

Yuu was roused awake by the pungent aroma of tuna.

Rotting tuna.

Their senses took several moments to sharpen, bringing their surroundings into focus. When they could at last find their bearings, they realized they were sitting up in bed, propped up against pillows. The two familiar, worried faces perched at their bedside became relieved at the sight of Yuu’s revival--

--and Grim, of all people, stood on the bed, holding an open can of tuna fish in his paws. It radiated a powerful stench.

“Ah-hah! I told you guys it’d work!” Grim sneered, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Two week old tuna always does the trick. Nyahahaha! The great Grim-sama really is a genius!” He did a little jig on the bed, delighted.

“Yuu!” Deuce cried out, breaking into a massive grin. “You’re up...! You’re okay...! We were so worried when you collapsed on us.”

“I...collapsed?” Yuu repeated, eyebrows furrowing.

If they dug back through the recesses of their still hazy mind, they could vaguely recall the incident that Deuce spoke of--yes, they had been walking to class. They had tried to remain cheerful and mask their tiredness as to not worry their friends, but alas, to no success. In the school courtyard--that was where Yuu’s exhaustion had gotten the better of them, and they had passed out.

“I think I remember something like that happening, yeah...” Yuu paused. “How long have I been out? What happened to going to class?”

“You’ve been unconscious for almost six hours now,” Deuce reported. “Classes and clubs are done for the day.”

“You gave us a real scare!” Ace interrupted, wearing an vexed expression. “Deuce had to carry ya all the way back to Ramshackle. I collected your missed assignments, and the teachers snapped at me for us skippin’ out to make sure you were okay. I even had to use my own money to buy you snacks from Sam’s store--he kept trying to up-sell me on some creepy old ornament! Man, it was so annoying to deal with...”

“Ace!” Deuce hissed. “Don’t worry about it, Yuu! I would do it all again if I had to. It’s no trouble at all to help out a friend!”

“Psssh. Goodie two shoes,” Ace muttered under his breath.

“Well, who cares?” Grim asked, planting two paws on his waist. “What matters is that my loyal minion is back and at it!”

“I’m concerned it might happen again, considering how long Yuu was knocked out for,” Deuce pointed out with a slight frown. “Do you have any idea what might have caused it?”

“I...” Yuu hesitated--but they swallowed their pride and continued. There was, after all, no harm in confiding in friends that had gone out of their way to assist them in their time of need. “I might have been overworking myself lately, so I haven’t really gotten the time to eat or sleep properly.

“I see,” Deuce nodded as he listened intently to Yuu’s troubles. The same could not be said for his rival.

“That’s dumb of you,” Ace snapped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone until now? Why’d you try and do it all by yourself?”

“Because, well...” Yuu’s voice trailed off. “It wasn’t just school work. The headmaster also asked me to do a lot of odd jobs and favors for him around campus, so I’ve been running around everywhere. It’s kind of my job to do those things to earn my keep here, so I didn’t want to bother anyone else about it.”

A moment of silence elapsed.

Then...

“I’m gonna do it,” Ace declared matter-of-factly. A wicked look was plastered on his face. “I’m gonna deck Crowley right in that bird brain of his!”

“Stop it, Ace! You’ll only get yourself into more trouble!” Deuce scolded his friend. “You’ve already come close to expulsion before. Don’t risk it.”

“A good slug never hurt anyone!” Ace protested, glaring.

“Deuce is right! You’re gonna get served expulsion papers for hurting the head hancho--as much of a lazy ass as he is!” Grim chimed in.

Ace gritted his teeth. For once, he did not have a cheeky rebuttal--he knew, deep down, that Deuce and Grim were right.

“Whatever!” Ace grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just super frustrating when you don’t tell us these things. I mean, if we don’t know what’s bothering you, then we can’t support you.”

“But...” Yuu stared at their hands in guilt. “It’s supposed to be my job, not yours. I couldn’t possibly...”

“Screw the rules!” Ace declared. “If you don’t tell us the next time you need help, I’m gonna be really, really annoyed with you!”

“We’re your friends, Yuu,” Deuce reminded them gently. “If you need us, we’ll come running, even if it takes taking public transportation all the way to Scarabia again! You can always count on it--whether you want us to or not. So please, have a little more faith in us.”

“Nyahaha! They’re right, yanno! I can’t have my minion in bad health, so I’ll be generous and help take good care of ya!”

“You guys...” Yuu’s eyes watered. “Thank you...Thank you for sticking by me.”

Always--

--and forever after.

#Grim #Yuu #MC #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this #spoilers

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charming-2d-boys · 3 years

Note

hi could you do a drabble (idk) about F! reader being choked by chrollo thighs like :"she doesn't want to answer chrollo questions ,she wants to escape since she has poweful nen but chrollo catch her with his thigs, (a little nsfw)that's all 👉👈 thanks💌

Ohoho, anon, we're going this way, huh? 😏

For real, though, I think I forgot how to breathe for a second from suddenly thinking about Chrollo's thighs.

Anyway, thank you for the request and I'll try my best!

Also, I changed this a bit because I really struggled thinking about a... normal situation where someone could possibly be choked by someone’s thighs and how to get there 😂

Warning: long and NSFW-ish.

P.S.: what a way to go... *dreamy sigh*

You’ve Got Another Thing Coming - Chrollo x Reader

You had underestimated Chrollo Lucilfer, that’s for sure. The man appeared tall and skinny in that suit, and with that pretty face and big, grey eyes, he seemed innocent and as if he couldn’t hurt a fly.

Boy, were you wrong.

This man had managed to charm you and pretty much anyone who came into contact with him at this party. You were invited as a plus one since your friend was a famous architect and everyone was talking about their amazing designs for some of the newest and fanciest buildings in the city.

He’d talked in such an alluring way, charisma rolling off him in waves, attracting gazes, both curious and sultry, while his face and voice made you think of him as a being sculpted by the gods themselves. And somehow, amidst all the pompous talking between all those rich people and the alcohol being served to guests, you found yourself talking with him in a little corner of the dimmed room, barely away from prying eyes and ears.

Chrollo was extremely intelligent, cultured and well-read. The way he held himself and spoke were becoming more and more attractive as the night progressed. Literature, history, culture, foreign languages, dreams, passions, you discussed about pretty much anything you could think of and he always seemed to find the perfect ways to make you talk more and more. His eyes were shining in delight whenever you’d say something that he didn’t expect or didn’t know about.

And when he asked you if you’d like to leave and go somewhere more... private, you jumped at the opportunity. His smile spelt trouble, but you had no idea what you were getting yourself into yet.

A short car ride brought the two of you to a 5 star hotel some minutes away from the party’s location, with few words exchanged while the air seemed filled with electricity. As soon as Chrollo parked the car, his hand found itself naturally on the small of your back, gently pushing you through the hotel’s rotating doors and into the large, well-lit and opulently decorated lobby. While you were staring in awe at the impressive decorum and gigantic chandelier seemingly made out of gold and with an abundance of shimmering crystals hanging from its arched arms, Chrollo was asking for his room key card, amused at your look of wonder and excited for what was to come.

You admitted that, when you both got into the pristine elevator that would take you to one of the highest floors, you felt your heart hammer in your chest and the butterflies in your stomach rioting. You were itching to touch Chrollo and the electricity almost seemed palpable as you felt your fingers twitch when the little ding announced your arrival at the desired floor. The two of you got off and Chrollo’s touch once again kept your lower back warm as his fingers pressed lightly into the skin while his other hand opened the door with the key card.

You expected him to pounce on you as soon as the door closed behind the two of you, but he only loosened his tie a bit before taking your hand and leading you into the spacious suite, the large, neatly-done bed with a few rose petals scattered on its plush surface being one of the first things that caught your attention.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Chrollo asked in the same charming voice, as he pointed at the champagne bottle in the ice bucket that sat on a large table against the opposite wall, a white rose next to it. This set-up seemed a bit too well coordinated, too convenient, as if he was expecting something to happen. You guessed with his looks and intelligence, he had every reason to. You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and saw Chrollo looking at you with kind, slightly amused eyes before you nodded your head, your throat feeling too parched for you to utter a word.

His hand and warmth left you as he poured two glasses of champagne before handing you one, both of you clinking them before taking a few sips. Your eyes tried looking everywhere but at the handsome man in front of you, feeling a bit awkward to be in his presence alone. You felt like prey while his eyes studied you as if he was a predator thinking of the best ways to get to you. He put his glass down and did the same to yours before his arms encircled your waist, pressing you flush against his warm body. And as he started pulling you towards the large bed and turned you around at the last moment to push you down onto your back, you noticed the bandage covering his forehead slowly coming undone. Chrollo pulled further on his loosened tie until he pulled it off completely and threw it on the carpeted floor, before the bandage followed, allowing you to see the cross tattoo on the soft skin of his forehead. His dark blue pinstripe blazer was the last piece of clothing to come off before he rolled the sleeves of his black, silk dress shirt to his elbows. God, he really was attractive.

The look his eyes gave off was one of absolute power as his fingers started going over the skin of your calves softly, inching their way under your dress, before his fingers gripped your thighs and pulled you further down the bed until your legs were around his hips.

“When were you planning on telling me?” He asked in a honeyed voice as he came closer to you, pushing you further down as his lips ghosted over the skin of your neck and his hands held your wrists firmly.

“Tell you what?” You batted your eyelashes at him innocently as Chrollo’s fingertips seemed to get colder.

“Don’t play games with me, (Y/N). Why can’t I use my Nen? What did you do?” He asked, his teeth biting gently at your pulse point making you chuckle. His smile was a bit colder and you could see a bit of annoyance make itself known as the corner of his mouth twitched when he heard your chuckle.

“Now, why would you worry about that? What we were about to do didn’t have anything to do with your Nen, did it, Chrollo?” Your tone was amused as his body pressed even more into yours, trying to make you see nothing else but him and his grey eyes. He wanted you to feel trapped. But it apparently didn’t really work.

You gasped dramatically and his eye twitched slightly. “Oh my, were you planning on using your Nen on me? How rude of you! And here I thought you were a gentleman.” You could only sigh in mock sadness as you pouted. Chrollo’s grip on your hands got stronger at this.

“How did you know?”

“Oh? Hmm, who knows~ I just had a feeling about you. You’re not as subtle as you think you are, you know?” You winked. You wouldn’t tell him that you saw the handprint on his book and that his interest in other people’s Nen was a bit too straightforward. Also, the rumours... Few, true, but they all said the same thing: after talking with a young man, somehow, some people’s Nen would disappear. Most couldn’t really remember exactly who the young man was or how he looked like or what they did prior to losing their Nen. But it was enough to ring some bells and you felt... something during the party, before Chrollo approached you. Like something... moving in the air.

Maybe the others were too intoxicated to realise that what they were saying and doing was pretty much their undoing. But apparently, your hesitance to tell Chrollo more about your Nen piqued his interest in you and your power. It was kind of funny, now that you thought about it. Right now, Chrollo’s eyes moved across your face, calculating his next move carefully. There was definitely more to you than meets the eye. And while he could appreciate that and enjoy the chase, he was also vexed because of your stubbornness. He hadn’t dealt with something like this in a while.

“Well then, Chrollo, if you won’t show me a good time, then I’d like to leave and get on with my life.” You knew that your strength was probably way lower than his, but that didn’t stop you from trying to think of a way to get him to let go of your wrists so you could leave already. You weren’t really that scared of him because your Nen was something he needed and with how stubborn you were, not even torture would make you talk. Others had tried before and yet, here you were. Still alive and still having your Nen.

“Oh, really now?” He whispered, his face so close to yours that your noses touched. You only nodded, definitely feeling how excited he had become. How many people usually managed to fool him and also keep him interested? Probably not many.

Your legs locked at the ankles as you only pressed him closer to you, hearing a little hiss leave his lips in response before you kissed him. It wasn’t much, but his grip around your wrists weakened and you brought your hands to his, lacing your fingers together. Chrollo only hummed, grinding over you and squeezing your hands tighter. If he wanted to feel as if he was dominating you and getting somewhere with this whole charade, then so be it.

He almost moaned when you bit his lip gently, before separating yourself from him to breathe and allowing him to move downwards and mark your neck. Just because you wouldn’t allow him to take your Nen didn’t mean you couldn’t indulge yourself in this moment of pleasure and let your body feel his ministrations. Chrollo definitely knew what he was doing. Too bad for him that it wasn’t enough to cloud your mind.

“Hey, Chrollo?”

“Hmm?“ He moved his face to yours again, staring into your eyes. He loved this look on you: dishevelled, with your body underneath his and your breathing ragged because of him.

“I’m sorry.” You said, and before he could comprehend what had happened, he was rolling off you on his side, clutching his head. You didn’t have time to hiss in pain before you were getting up and slightly stumbling to your feet, ready to get the hell out of there. And people called you hard-headed. Sheesh, this guy’s head must’ve been made out of steel then.

Before you could reach the door, you felt a huge pressure on your back before you were sprawled out on your stomach, wheezing. You tried getting up but only felt his foot on your back, keeping you down. He crouched down before pulling on your shoulder, turning you to face him. His smile was gone and the skin where his tattoo was was red, swollen and bleeding a bit. Chrollo crawled over your body, pinning your arms dows as his calves kept them glued to your sides and you felt almost all of his weight settle on your ribcage, making it harder for you to breathe. If this would’ve been a normal situation, you would’ve probably found this position really hot.

Still, even as you were trying to get air back into your lungs, you could only chuckle. Chrollo tilted his head at you, a cold smile on his lips.

“What is so amusing, darling?” He asked, curious about your reason. If you were losing it or were hysterical from fear, maybe you’d talk sooner.

“You.” That’s it. That was your reason. This whole situation. The fact that he would probably go to such lengths just to get you to talk about your Nen so he could have it. Chrollo’s eye twitched as he watched you laugh.

Weird, stubborn, intelligent girl. You weren’t going to give in so easily, huh?

“I know what you’re thinking Chrollo. And believe me when I tell you this: if you think I’ll give you what you want that easily... You’ve got another thing coming.” You stared straight into his grey eyes with a smile on your face. He was smart and stubborn.

But so were you.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh chrollo #hxh writing

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theartoflovingthomashunt · 5 years

Text

Last Night Thomas

[Red Carpet Diaries Masterlist] || [Hollywood U Masterlist]

– – –

Characters: Alex, Thomas Hunt

Rating: Mature (by clicking “read more” you are agreeing that you are 18 years of age or older)

Notes: Day 17- Comedy & Hangover– @playchoicesficidea *This is also for the anon prompt: “What if one day MC rented out a strip club filled with only sexy music she likes, no one else and a lot of whiskey and does a really sexy strip poll dance for Thomas” (I changed it from a strip club to the club from RCD 2, I personally don’t feel Thomas Hunt would go to a strip club… but then, I don’t even know what went on while I was writing this… there are a lot of book 2, chapter 2 references. lol I hope you like it, even if it isn’t exactly what you asked for.)

– – –

Alex held her head in her hands. The pressure forming in her forehead was overwhelming. She slowly opened her heavy eyes. It took her a moment to register where she was. The pulsating colored lights almost blinded her. She noticed the empty Scotch bottle on the floor nearby. Why had she thought this was a good idea?

Beside her, Thomas stirred, moving his arm across her. Alex turned into him, enjoying his exquisite physique–that was why. No one would believe her if she told them she and Thomas Hunt woke up naked in the club, and yet, there they were. Alex tried to smile, but the pain in her head was too great.

Instead, Alex closed her eyes and nuzzled into Thomas’s arms as she let the memories of the previous night wash over her.

***

“Where are we going in the middle of the night?” Thomas protested as Alex dragged him down the street and into a dark alley.

“It’s going to be fun,” Alex asserted.

“Why do I feel our definitions of ‘fun’ are not quite aligned?” Thomas urged.

“Oh, hush,” Alex expressed. “I anticipate this evening to be the perfect balance of both pleasure and vexing.”

Alex pulled out a key from her jacket pocket and unlocked the back door to the club, relocking it behind them. They made their way inside, the club lights still flashing.

“What are we doing here?” Thomas questioned apprehensively.

“It’s the anniversary of our first not-official date,” Alex grinned.“I was here with my friends and you were here because your potential lead stood you up,” Alex wrapped her arms around Thomas’s neck. “Then, we went for drinks.”

“That wasn’t a date,” Thomas insisted.

“I do recall you giving me plenty of compliments which I just happened to mistake for you asking for my phone number,” Alex pressed, her lips grazing against the length of his neck. “Though I must note, you seem to tease much better now, Mr. Hunt.”

“You insist on giving me a surplus of practice,” Thomas admitted, as Alex kissed his jawline. “I suppose had I allowed you to direct our course, we might have saved ourselves a few months.”

“You said when you saw me in Tender Nothings, I was so compelling, that the hair on your arms stood up,” Alex whispered, tracing the muscles on his arms. “I wonder if the little show I prepared for you tonight will have the same effect.”

“There’s a show?” Thomas wondered curiously.

“Oh yes,” Alex exclaimed. Her lips met his and for a moment, she let him completely pull her into him, before she moved away. Alex took Thomas’s hand and led him toward the bar. “Drinks first...unfortunately, one of the things you must suffer through tonight is bagged ice.”

Before Thomas could protest, Alex continued. “I know, bagged ice is beneath you, and yet, it is part of the night’s events.”

Alex helped herself to the liquor behind the bar and poured two glasses of Scotch on the rocks. Alex handed Thomas one and lifted her own to his. “To us.”

“To wherever this night may take us,” Thomas clinked his glass to hers and brought the drink to his lips.

Alex and Thomas laughed through round after round as they attempted to make their way through the bottle of Scotch.

“Did you say you had a special show for me?” Thomas questioned, vaguely remembering their conversation from earlier.

“Oh yeah!” Alex quickly turned to change the music but realized she probably would need to take it a little more slowly to keep her balance.

She changed the music to Benny Benassi’s Satisfaction. “Since you love EDM so much,” Alex winked. “You never did tell me what you know about EDM, but I figured I’d pick something a little older, just for you!”

“This song is absolutely ridiculous,” Thomas protested.

“Exactly!” Alex kissed his cheek.

“We were having such a nice time,” Thomas complained. “Why assault my senses with such noise?”

“Remember, pleasure and vexing!” Alex hopped on the bar and started dancing to the music. Her rhythm was a little more off than when she practiced. A few rounds of Scotch would do that to you, but she persisted. The choppy beat of the song allowed for missteps.

“What are you doing?” Thomas’s eyes followed her as she danced along the bar. He held his Scotch in his hand, sipping it.

“This is your very special, one-night-only private show,” Alex dropped down low in front of him, shaking her butt. She reached out and pulled at his tie, bringing him closer. Her warm breath traveling over his lips. She let her tongue gently graze his mouth before pushing him back.

Alex shimmied, letting her own hands wander up and down her body. Alex moved her body to beat of the bass as she slowly pulled her dress up, inch-by-inch, never breaking eye contact with Thomas. When she finally removed her dress, she twirled it around her head, before throwing it in his face.

As he pushed the article of clothing to the side, Alex giggled to herself as she continued dancing on the bar. She reached for the remote and changed the song to something more sultry.

“What on earth gave you this idea?” Thomas questioned, up from his seat, following her down the bar.

“Is it not to your liking?” Alex pressed, gently sucking on her finger.

Thomas licked his lips, his hands reaching out to caress her.

“This is not the audience participation portion,” Alex playfully pushed him away.

“I thought this was my show?” Thomas ran his hand up her ankle and calf. She didn’t pull away this time.

Alex offered him her hand.

“I’m not getting on the bar.” Thomas protested. “That is neither something I have ever done nor something I plan to do.”

“It is required to unlock the audience participation portion of the show,” Alex insisted as she scampered down the bar away from him, rhythmically moving every part of her body to the music.

Thomas sighed deeply, trying to hold his ground. Despite the cacophony of lights and sounds, her allure over him was too great. Reluctantly, Thomas got on the bar. At least no one else was there to bear witness to him succumbing to such an act of depravity. Alex continuously pushed him into places and situations he never thought possible. Her light was magnetic and he would follow her anywhere.

Alex pulled Thomas in for a long and passionate kiss to welcome him to her stage, giving him time to enjoy her bare skin.

“Now, this jacket has got to go,” Alex pushed it off his shoulders, but instead of tossing it to the ground, she put it around herself. “Just evening our current state of undress.”

“We seem to be moving in the opposite direction,” Thomas noted

“Let me remedy that for you,” Alex offered, as she loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. The shirt fell behind him onto the bar, but Alex held on to the tie.

Alex turned around so her back was to Thomas. She pulled his tie to keep him close as she moved her hips against him. Thomas’s hands ran down her stomach, hips, and thighs as his body delighted at her rhythm against him. Alex skillfully removed her bra, while somehow keeping Thomas’s jacket on. She turned back to face him; her lips met him immediately. She bit his lower lip as she pulled away and continued dancing for him.

Thomas’s caressed her newly exposed breasts before wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her close as Alex continued to move to the music. His own body responded in kind. Alex removed his pants and took a step back to admire her work. This interactive performance show was quite to her liking.

Alex ran her hands over her underwear as she let her torso move in chest circles. After a few moments, she let her underwear fall down. Alex rolled her hips in tight circles as she twirled her way back to Thomas, completely naked aside from his jacket.

As Thomas pulled her in kissing her fiercely, Alex ran her hands down his chest then stomach, pressing her fingertips into his taut skin. Finally, she hooked her fingers in his underwear and slid them off.

“You are incredible,” Thomas breathed. His hands wandering every inch of her body.

“Has this performance been as electrifying as Tender Nothings was for you?” Alex kissed his neck.

Thomas lifted her head back to his. “In an entirely different manner! Though I wager that it can get more sensational.”

“Is that so?” Alex teased. She ran her hand over his desire, causing him to shutter at her touch.

Thomas guided her down to the bar countertop as he hovered over her. “Are you planning on taking my jacket off?”

Alex ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. She shook her head against his. She could feel his smile into her lips.

“Also, I was thinking something more like this,” Alex smirked as she pushed Thomas back onto the bar and straddled his hips. She held onto his tie to keep his eyes on her as she lowered herself onto him. “Now I believe you once promised me that we could make something beautiful together.”

Thomas closed his eyes and leaned back, letting Alex take the lead. His hands held onto her hips as she began moving against him.

----

Thomas Tags: @alleksa16 ; @the-soot-sprite ; @lilyofchoices ; @twin-skltns ; @mfackenthal ; @thearianam ; @flyawayboo ; @riseandshinelittleblossom ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @alj4890 ; @cliffs-stallion; @playchoicesficidea ;

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt x mc #thomas hunt fan fiction #thomas orson hunt #red carpet diaries #rcd 2 #rcd 2.5 #request #anon request #fan fiction #alex x thomas #thomas x alex #edm #halex #the art of loving thomas hunt #taolth #alex hunt #alex spencer #the title is a nod to Psych's Last Night Gus

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 5 years

Note

could you do a humans are space orcs for 3below

Sorry it took me so long to get this done, anon. I wanted to be able to sit down and really think of good ideas and that took a while.

Anyway, without further adieu:

Akiridion-5 is the first to welcome Earth on the intergalactic stage, at the behest of their new royals. They expect that they’ll have to take care of these flabby, potentially fragile beings due to the organic structure of their forms (i.e. the common assumption that humans are really breakable). Therefore, they create numerous Human Protocols to ensure their safety. The Akiridions believe the humans will thank them as it is clear they care and are only looking out for the humans’ best interests.

“What do you mean they took it as a challenge and now dare each other to see how many protocols they can break in a row? And then they time themselves to see who can do it the fastest???”

Akiridions have Standards when it comes to etiquette around their royalty. Everyone in Akiridion society has a specific role to maintain and take pride in doing so. Surely the humans will understand that there are Ways to Interact With Royalty.

That doesn’t include having hover board races in the hallways while on a diplomatic mission to transport the Royal Siblings. The commanding officer is about to finally give the humans a well-deserved lecture until he sees the Queen-in-Waiting is one of the racers.

I kinda wish I had a ‘humans have weird pets’ (cats are technically carnivores that we’ve tamed over the years, as are dogs, and other species would find that odd, etc.) idea, but then I think about Luug, who canonically shoots lasers/fire from his butt so

Or, what about this; of the alien races, we haven’t seen many creatures with fur (and Aja, Krel, and Vex were intrigued by Luug’s fluffy dog state). So, humans introduce aliens to having fluffy companions.

Subsequently humans have to create a set of standard regulations for having fluffy pets aboard ships as they become so massively popular that numerous species now need to learn to take care of their new fluffy friends, but don’t necessarily understand.

The gift of a fluffy pet becomes a staple of Earth diplomacy.

Akiridion Diplomat: no, you don’t understand. The Jeee are notoriously vicious. You can’t just hand one a fluffy animal and expect—oh wait, you can apparently. *The vicious warrior in question cuddles their new kitten nearby, menace completely gone.

Eli Pepperjack personally introduces/invents the Space Roomba

Eli (to Aja and Krel while tapping a knife to a roomba): Trust me, this is gonna be great. I saw something like this online once.

Krel (to Eli): I don’t understand, why are you taping a knife to the cleaning device?

Eli: You’ll see. Do we have a way of getting it to General Morando’s ship?

Hence the birth of Stabby of Arcadia, legendary nuisance of Morando’s army who Cannot Be Defeated — Morando has tried to destroy the roomba, but never seems to be able to. (this is a direct reference to the Star Wars Stabby Roomba posts I’ve seen around).

Humans are the only species who hasn’t tamed the wilderness of their planet to work for them.

Akiridion Person: What do you mean you just let the fauna of your planet live untended? Doesn’t that cause disease pathogens and such?

Human: Well yeah, my allergies go to shit every spring, but seeing the flowers is totally worth it.

Akiridion: …you let yourself get sick?

Human: yeah, just sneezing and such. No big deal.

Akiridion: What is sneezing?

Later, a different Akiridion asks why the first is drinking a lot. The first replies that he’s now learned humans expel air and what is called “snot” at high speeds from their noses on occasion.

Trees are an urban legend among the alien races. In whispered tones, they’ll talk to each other about the giant life forms that spring out of the Earth’s crust on their own and absorb nutrients from it. Since quite a few haven’t actually seen a tree, the stories will grow increasingly frightening with each telling (to the point where it’s blown way out of proportions).

#trollhunters #3below #tales of arcadia #eli pepperjack #aja tarron #krel tarron #long post #Anonymous

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

Note

Hello, favorite writer. You often wrote that Haymitch wears his sweatpants very low on the hips. Can you write something where he loses them in front of Effie? Maybe even before the 74th Games? Thank you!

An anon wanted crack yesterday so here you go! I hope your ‘re feeling better! [X]

The Breakfast Trap

Effie buttered her toast with three quick efficientsliding of her knife and took a sharp bite, glancing at the watch around herwrist. The smirk on her lips would have been described as cunning if a lady waspermitted such a thing. Since a lady wasn’t and there were no witnesseshowever, if interrogated on the subject she would have sworn the smile was aperfectly mindless one. After all, it wouldn’t have done to let Haymitch knowshe wasn’t as brainless as he thought her to be.

A few days as his escort had taught her onething: if she wanted something done, she should be the one doing it. It sohappened that she needed him up so he could actually do his job and mentor.Unfortunately, she had also determined early on that Haymitch would go to bedin the middle of the night or in the early hours of morning and only rise up atnoon or even later if he could get away with it.

Her eyes darted to the two plates waiting forthe children to appear with displeasure. He had yet to coach their tributes at all and while she could do some things for their generalappearance, behavior and education, she couldn’t for the life of her thinkabout what to advise them to do in an arena. Do not die under any circumstance seemed to be the obvious but itwas a tad light. Haymitch was the one with the experience and the wisdom andthe children were getting restless and she hated to see them so scared. Thesolution was simple. She needed to get Haymitch to stay in the same room asthem long enough for him to coach them.

She took a sip of coffee, mentally countingdown from ten. She had just reached zero when the sharp ringing echoed throughoutthe penthouse, loud enough to wake up the dead, soon followed by another andanother.

It was a couple of minutes and quite a few opening and closing of doors– she figured the children must have woken up too but would have the good senseof ducking out of the way until the storm had passed – before the alarm clocksthat were mysteriously hidden inseveral places of Haymitch’s room were turned off.

“TRINKET, YOU BETTER START RUNNING!” came theroar once silence had descended once more.

Effie calmly finished her toast, listening tothe graceless crashes of what sounded like a tiny elephant pack destroyingeverything on its path. He was fuming by the time he appeared on the threshold,hair sticking in every direction, eyes reddish from too much alcohol or lack ofsleep, wearing nothing but a frayed tee-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpantsthat had seen better days.

She put that on the list of clothes to replacein his wardrobe – she didn’t care what her predecessors’ policies had been, novictor of hers would walk around dressed like a hobo. Why, the waistband of thepants was so old it seemed barely enough to keep them on his hips. They wereriding so low she could see flashes of his lower stomach every time he movedand the shirt inched up.

“Haymitch, dear, you are up!” she exclaimed, faking surprise. “Bright and early, just like I asked you yesterday. Fabulous. The children won’t be a minute, I am sure. You might want some coffee beforethat. They can be such chatterboxes.”

“Don’t pull off that shit ever again if you care for your life.” he spat.

She swallowed back a sigh. Truly, threatening someone at the breakfast table was the upmost of bad manners in her opinion.Never mind the language. It was enough to upset her stomach.

She batted her thick blue fake eyelashesinnocently. “Why, I am flabbergasted.Whatever are you accusing me off? Here, sit down. Have a muffin. Blueberries are your favorite, I believe?”

She fished a pastry from the basket in thecenter of the table and placed it in front of the chair he would have occupiedall along if he had bothered to show up on time. Presiding over meals was aprivilege and he should have been more dutiful about it.

For a second, he seemed surprised that she knewas much about his tastes but, truly,it wasn’t that puzzling. She was goodat reading people and she excelled atdetermining what people liked and didn’t like. It wasn’t terribly difficult to figure out what his favorite flavors were.She simply had to pay attention – somethinghe seemed to be completely incapable of.

“Listen to me and listen hard, Trinket.” hegrowled, taking a threatening step forward, his finger pointed straight at her.

Unfortunately for him, he stumbled on the hemof the sweatpants. He managed to remain upright by catching himself on the backof a chair but the poor pants that had already been hanging loose weren’t that lucky.

She couldn’t help but burst out laughing at thesight.

Not really ladylike perhaps but really… There was a hint of karma in there. If he hadn’t been tryingto antagonize her so much since their first meeting, she might not haveresorted to hiding alarm clocks in his room and he wouldn’t have ended up witha bare butt in the middle of the dining room.

The shirt hid most of it and he pulled thesweatpants back up before she could have a proper peek, which was perhaps alittle disappointing. However she wasso busy laughing she didn’t really mind at the time.

“Not that funny.” he muttered, clearly vexed.The sulk on his face made him look like a disgruntled little boy and it was… Strangely adorable. It also had thedubious effect of making her laugh even harder. She dabbed under her eyes withher napkin, trying to find her breath back because her side was starting tohurt. Haymitch crossed his arms over his chest, his lips twitching as if he wastrying to hide his own amusement. “Now you’re insulting. Not quite the reaction I usually get when I lose mypants, sweetheart.” She had just managed to calm down when his remark sent herover the edge once more. She fanned herself with the napkin. Truly. He pouted and dropped on hischair, splitting the muffin in two. “Hope you enjoyed the view ‘cause it’s thelast time I get naked for you.”

She stole half of the muffin because she musthave burn enough calories with that laughter to be able to afford it andignored his obvious irritation at the move. He should learn to share anyway. Shewas there to stay – hopefully not toolong since she had every intention ofgetting promoted.

“I will tryto swallow back my massivedisappointment at never seeing yourprivates again.” she retorted very seriously. “I will also make sure you are supplied with new pajamas. For everyone’ssafety.”

“You know… I sleep in the nude.” he taunted, tilting his head to the side with thatdisarming smirk he had a gift for flashing at the right moment.

Oh, he could work the charm alright. Now if he would actually put itto good use, they could secure sponsors, win and she could move on to a better Districtwhere the victors wouldn’t insist on making her incensed.

“Really?” she hummed. “What a fascinating anecdote. I will make sure Caesar highlights it in the GamesSpecials.”

“You do that.” he said around a mouthful ofmuffin. Bits and crumbs flew everywhere and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.He chewed even harder – on purpose,she was sure – leaving no doubt as to what was happening inside his mouth. Appalling. “You pull a stunt like thisagain, it won’t end that well for you though, I mean it. Got it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”she denied, taking a sip of coffee. She heard the hesitant footsteps andcheerfully raised her voice a little. “Ah, children! Come in, come in! Look who is here to talk to you aboutyour training! I told you he promised to come to breakfast today…”

Haymitch glared at her.

She simply grinned.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #games time #not established #crack #HBIC effie #funny one

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samwpmarleau · 7 years

Note

If you're still doing the list prompts, robb x rhaenys, no.6?

6. Tongue-tied.I’m combining this with an anon’s request of 4 - irresistible.

Verse

To say his camp has been in a state for the last four days would be a rather large understatement. Everything had been going as well as could be expected until the morning she had shown up with an honor guard and thrown it all into chaos.

Rhaenys Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, back from the dead. Even now, even despite her proof, he has a hard time believing it.

Harder still is trying to avoid dwelling on the subject of alliance, of what that would mean. She has no siblings nor any available cousins, which means there’s only her, and he knows all too well that in this world alliance means marriage. Had he not done the very same with his uncle? Betrothed to a Frey, and that was just in exchange for crossing the Twins. In exchange for an army, surely the same would be required, this time of Robb himself.

It would be easier if she were cruel or old or ugly. At least then he would be able to concentrate. At least then she would be nothing more than a business transaction. Instead, she is nearly of an age with him, she has obeyed the rules of engagement to the letter, and even Grey Wind had inexplicably taken a shine to her.

And her beauty…

She plagues his every thought. It shames him, but he can’t stop it. The way her long hair falls to her back, bound in gold rings; her smooth, golden skin shown to him only in glimpses through the sheer sleeves of her gown; her sharp, deep, dark eyes that show intelligence and hide fear; her hard elegance that had enraptured him the minute he saw her. He wonders if the first Rhaenys was the same: threatening, and yet agonizingly alluring.

You’re a king, not a lecher, he keeps having to remind himself, and she is twice a princess, not some camp follower to be ogled.

Nevertheless, no matter how much he berates himself, the more he thinks about not thinking about her, the worse it gets. Until finally one night, exasperated and disgusted with himself, he throws aside the covers and gets dressed, only grabbing a knife as an afterthought. He trusts his bannermen implicitly, and Princess Rhaenys’s guards had thus far shown no discourtesy, let alone a mind for murder, but better to be safe than careless.

Robb wends his way through the castle down to the Trident with the idea to submerge himself and let the water scourge his head and body of his impropriety. He kneels down on the bank and splashes his face with cool water, cups some over his head until it trickles down his shirt and soaks his flushed skin. Just as he’s pondering going for an actual swim, he hears a twig snap and then his arm is wrenched around and sharp metal presses against his throat.

“I could have killed you just now.” It is a woman’s voice, a familiar one, and with only those seven words, all his efforts with the river are rendered useless. “You brought neither sword nor your wolf? Some soldier you are.”

“A soldier does not expect to be attacked in his own camp, Your Grace.” He feels her reach down to his hip to disarm him of his dagger, and he can’t help but reflect on the fact that her hand comes within inches of…elsewhere, and he begs the old gods and the new that she doesn’t notice what her mere presence is doing to him. “But it…it seems I am at your mercy. Pray tell, what are your demands?”

“I haven’t decided,” she says. “What would you say is a suitable punishment for depriving a princess of her solitude?”

“Perhaps you’ve deprived me of mine.”

“Why would you need such a thing? You have everything.”

Robb desperately tries to think of something to say. He can’t exactly tell her the real reason he’s here, that she’s the one for his midnight excursion. “I…well, I…” Think, damn you! “I miss my father.”

It’s true enough–sometimes he feels as though the grief will swallow him whole–but tonight, grief had not been his motivation.

“We are both without one now, it seems.” She releases him without fanfare, apparently done with her games. “Mine died here, in this very river. They say rubies from his breastplate still wash up now and again.”

He turns around to face her, and wishes he hadn’t. Her hair is for once unbound, flowing in thick curls about her shoulders, she’s dressed in thin silks that he’s fairly sure should be worn beneath a gown, not as a gown, and there’s enough danger in her expression that indicates quite clearly she could kill him if she so chose just as she’d promised.

Seven save me.

“Y-Yes, I have heard the same,” he stutters. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“I’m not,” she says, stowing her dagger. “Not really. I hardly remember him, and what he did to my family and to the realm, was unforgivable.”

He blinks, momentarily taken aback. “He was still your father.”

For an instant—and only an instant—a flash of vulnerability slides across her face. “Yes, he was.” She sighs. “I suppose that is my weakness.”

“We all have weaknesses.”

“And what is yours? What vexes the King in the North?”

“Dornish princesses, perhaps,” he quips. He is grateful his voice is steady; inside, he is a jumble of nerves.

“Hmm. You are one man among thousands, then. Wantons, cheats, beguiling seductresses, that’s what they call us, and yet given the chance they’d bed us all the same. The ultimate conquest, and the easiest.”

“Vexation is not the same thing. I do not think of you in the way you describe.”

“No? Your breeches say otherwise.” Mortified, he searches for something to say, anything, but then she runs her hand lightly down his chest and leans up to whisper in his ear. “Worry not. Your eye is not the only one that has wandered.”

He stares at her in disbelief. “I—what?”

“I shall see you on the morrow, Robb Stark.”

She leaves him alone on the riverbank with a parting smirk, and once she’s out of earshot he lets out a groan. Her words have set off his imagination worse than before, and he can’t help but envision her lying in her chambers, one hand on her breast, the other sliding up her thigh and reaching beneath her shift, his name on her lips…

Without even bothering to strip, he hurries into the river and submerges himself head to toe, wondering which would torture him most: drowning, or having to face her in the morning.

#robb stark #rhaenys targaryen #robb x rhaenys #asoiaf #gotfic #my fic #verse: rxr wot5k #compliance: canon au #bruceselina

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heartsoftruth · 6 years

Note

Lol I am Brazilian and I don’t get why everyone is so upset about your anon, I was not offended by her message at all, people need to chill. It’s true, our language is not the most simple and spoken on the world, I don’t feel that the anon wanted to hurt the people in her message, I understand that some person are pissed that Matt didn’t put subtitles at least in Portuguese and I did not think about it but it’s true that he could also add them for his deaf followers.

@buturnotneymar said:But who knows, perhaps he will add them later. Anyway, anon, I’m Brazilian and your message did not offend me at all, it’s ok girl 💗✌🏼 And a lot of people here in Brazil find Matheus unbearable, so I understand you 😂

Haha, yeah I also stopped following him on Insta - after I saw his Instastory with Ney I followed him for a while - but he irks me the wrong way… Idunno why… So I stopped following him since I also saw he left Paris a few days later haha.

And thanks for your sweet message to my anon! I’m glad you weren’t offended by it. 😊 I indeed also agree with you and thinks she means no harm by it, but that she just genuinely doesn’t know. Otherwise she wouldn’t have taken the time to explain herself in a 4-way ask afterwards.

(But you will see other are pissed under here…)

Anonymous said:I don’t give a fuck about the whole English captions mess but the comments about the Portuguese Speaking countries is borderline shocking.You fit about 3 or 4 Portugals in Angola or Mozambique honey. I know anon meant no harm, it’s just a mirror on how little people care/know/study Africa but please honey do some studying. You probably want to be done with this unrelated topic but I think its important to point this out you might have Africans followers that feel very irrelevant with such remark

I knew that part of her message would be controversial, thats why I said. “I’m not gonna comment on the small countries little know countries. But as far as I know they aren’t little. But ok… I get you mean no harm. 😊”

I don’t think the topic is irrelevant, but I also don’t think it’s my job to educate my anon when I genuinely feel that she didnt mean any harm. If she did she wouldn’t have taken the time by explaining herself in a 4 part message. Many people who say something that doesn’t fall ok on here don’t take the time to come here and apologize so that alone tells me she meant no harm. And with my answer ‘as far as I know they arent little’ I hope I made her curious and Google it for herself to see how big they are.

When she wrote in her first message that Portuguese is spoken in 2 countries I Googled it to see if that was true etc and I found out it’s also spoken in Angola and Mozambique and how huge they are citizen wise. But I’m just a curious person who googles/questions almost every statement people make - also irl - but you can’t expect everyone to do that.

Again I don’t find the topic irrelevant, but I genuinely feel the anon don’t meant it in a harmful way. More that she genuinely doesn’t know.

Anonymous said:your anon about the language of the video, she is just a dumb racist, I agree with your other anons, she is so ignorant she should shut up. And she can keep her excuses, it’s easy to apologize after being racist, just because people have reacted. She has no respect for Brazilians, I’m not Brazilian but it must be vexing for them. If she sees this message, I would like to tell her to go fuck herself, Ash you should not accept that kind of people on your blog, it’s supposed to be a positive place.

I can repeat myself over here, but I genuinely think the anon meant no harm.

Many anons who say something that doesn’t fall good on here DONT take the time to explain themselves and apologize. She did that. Even if it’s the internet that’s a good/courage (that’s a bit too heavy but I have no idea what the good word for it is) thing to do.

Ok her wording (about the small countries) isn’t the best and that’s why I said what I said about the little countries but I’m sure by now - seeing how people react - she will google it. She btw said nothing about Brazilians in general. She said something about Matheus - who is Brazilian - but nothing about what she said had anything to do with being Brazilian or Brazilians in general.

I don’t like the strong words you are using btw. You want my blog to be a positive place, but the words you are using are far from positive. You could have also said in a constructive manner that Portugal isn’t even the second biggest Portugese speaking country and doesn’t even fall in the top 3. THAT would have been a positive way to educatie/share your knowledge with someone.

#buturnotneymar #anonymous #btw anon if you feel sad after reading this message me in private!

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