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alexsoenomel · 3 months

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Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?"

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered.

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping.

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday.

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays."

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?"

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol."

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him.

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!"

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked.

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer.

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother.

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!”

“Shut your mouth!”

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him.

“Ouch!” It did.

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern.

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.”

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said.

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him.

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’.

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed.

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended.

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!” ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver.

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added.

“You should get dressed before you get sick.”

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean.

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him.

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast.

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you.

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!”

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you.

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?”

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep.

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!"

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit.

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!"

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!"

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl.

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange.

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human.

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee.

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad.

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you.

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?”

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.”

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed.

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked.

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed.

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face.

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?”

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny.

“Morning!”

“Morning Sam!” You spoke.

“Sleep well?”

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened.

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother.

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it.

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie.

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth.

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious.

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked.

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in.

A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother.

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head.

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!”

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS!

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready.

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools.

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled.

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?"

"Showering."

"Again?"

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window.

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that.

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?”

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.”

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine.

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!”

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.”

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.”

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly.

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer.

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?”

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration.

“(Y/N)?”

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck.

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.”

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible.

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both.

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket.

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion.

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.”

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

Consequences | One

Word Count: 4.9k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, a dash of religious guilt if you blink

Series Masterlist

It was then the Prince had insisted that he had wanted her for himself. For her maidservant duties of course.

The other maidservants were delighted with the new gossip, tittering amongst themselves at the reasoning that the One-Eyed Prince had taken a special interest in the new maidservant for which they’d come up with all sorts of reasons.

Perhaps it was because of her pliant, quiet nature and she could slip into the chambers largely unnoticed and one wouldn’t be able to truly see her presence until she spoke. The other women had often described her as such. That she was like a shadow, silent, but always looming behind someone else. That she was like a breeze, gentle and discreet, as every maidservant should be in the presence of her master.

Or perhaps, they speculated, that it was because of another, darker reason. That Prince Aemond intended to make some fun for himself and torture the poor girl with his mere presence and shrinking stare with his one good eye, the other sapphire one on full display, rooting fear into the shy, young thing. That he wanted someone to torment, as he had so often been tormented himself and found the power behind it exhilarating.

Nobody could have expected the true reasoning behind his newfound desire for her company. Not even she herself. But the other maidservants were at least grateful they no longer had to enter his chambers.

Having only Prince Aemond to run after was a nice change of routine, albeit a strange one. For a man who had requested she be at his beck and call, he was rarely ever in his chambers past the morning. Usually, he could be found in the training yard for hours on end, and it occurs to her that this is how he’s managed to build the form he has, by mercilessly pushing himself to his limits for hours everyday. It must be hard work, she thinks to herself.

He would only return in the early evening, to prepare himself for supper and then once again later for his bath and then bed. It was a rigorous routine, but it was nice to have some consistency in her life for a change.

One morning after placing her week’s wages into the pocket within her pillowcase, she smoothes down her apron over her maidservant dress, intending later to send some of the copper coins to her young siblings, for without their parents to provide, as the eldest it landed to her and her alone to care for them.

Everyday she thinks of them and how they had begged her to not leave them in the care of the smelly widow from next door after their father had finally succumbed to illness. Her younger brother had stomped his feet, with each thump he would say 'she smells like cabbages' and the young woman would bite back her laugh, tell her brother that he was to be polite to their neighbour and that he was not to mess with the purple plants at the front of her home, or else she’d have him for supper.

She’d kissed her younger sister, the middle child, but several years younger than her, on the crown of her head and gave her a sad smile, apologising that such responsibility had fallen onto her at such a young age. Her sister had given her a tight hug, not wanting to play the big sister and fall into the endless cycle of domestic prison that could be seen once the eldest had disappeared. But she’d eventually relented and let her older sister depart for her new position in King’s Landing. With a warm wave, she’d boarded the stuffy carriage with other smallfolk, using all of her coin for the passage there and bid them goodbye.

She said she would come back for them.

And at the time she meant it.

It filled her stomach with dread and fear, to know she may never see them again, doomed to live her life in the manner of which she was born as a peasant to do. To do the same dirty, back-breaking work, day in and day out, for the same measly copper she was paid until the day her legs gave out. Or perhaps until they found no more use for her.

At least she could give them funds, she thought.

Only a week had gone by, but she felt as if she could walk the short distance to his chambers blindfolded. She always knocked, but in the middle of the day, he was never there. So when she swings the chamber door open and shut behind her, she goes about her usual duties with a contented sigh.

His chambers were usually always clean and not so much in need of excessive housekeeping. Once his bedsheets were made, the cotton taut to the corners of the mattress, she moves onto her cleaning duties. The fireplace needed a good dusting, so she takes her outer skirt and tucks it into her apron to keep it out the way and turns up her sleeves over her elbows. She’s used to getting dusty and grubby in her work, but fireplace work with soot and the burning stench is possibly her least favourite.

Suitably covered in soot, she continues to sweep up the black dust into the bucket beside her, wiping her face with her clean forearm, fingers too dirty to brush that stray curl from her face, so it hangs there annoyingly.

“Working hard as always, I see.”

His voice makes her hairs stand up on end and had she not been head first in the fireplace, covered in soot and blackened ash at her cheeks, she might have been less embarrassed. But her cheeks flush at her dirtied appearance and she is immediately stood to attention, brushing whatever she can off her apron.

“Your grace, I apologise for my appearance,” she blubbers hurriedly, clearly distressed.

Aemond stands at the doors and she is amazed to find out that she didn’t even hear them open in the first place. He must have light footing, which surprises her since she has seen him train so aggressively and knows that hefty, adept and quick skills are needed for such activities. He wears his usual black leather doublet, hands behind his back as if he is hiding something and that signature lob-sided smirk he seemed to wear whenever he had found his little maidservant in his chambers.

She is now accustomed to his trained silences in between conversations and has come to understand that it is because he is thinking so deeply about something that his mouth cannot move at the same time. And yet, he stands, basking in the uncomfortable feeling he gives her, rather enjoying it and letting his eye wander over her. He pauses and smiles wider at seeing her outer skirt tucked into her apron, showing the cream skirt underneath and when she notices, she quickly plucks it out and lets it fall around her ankles.

Aemond lets the chamber doors close behind him, striding past her for the side table where the wine decanter sits. He moves past her with such speed that the stray curled strand of hair wafts a little in the still air. She cannot deny the aura this man has and the sheer authority he gives off, despite not being the first born of the King and Queen. Every time he enters the room, he commands the space and everyone in it with little but his gaze and even now, she stands where she had been, dirtied hands clasped before her, waiting for him to address her, command her, anything.

Emptying the first cup of wine, he sighs, tongue darting out to fetch the stain of it from his lips and he looks upon the petite little maidservant, waiting patiently.

“Continue.”

She need not be told twice. Instead of tucking her dress back into her apron, she folds it behind her as she kneels before the fireplace once again, collecting the ash and old logs and filling her bucket with them, replacing them with new ones for later in the evening when the fire will be lit.

Aemond thrives in her obedience. The way she just does as she is told without speaking. So polite, he thinks. So as he sits in his armchair, shamelessly watching her as she replaces the logs, he finds he cannot tear his eye away from her profile, how soft her features are for someone who works doing such arduous and menial tasks everyday. He thinks her hands must be calloused, but when he looks upon them, they look so soft.

She had a profile that would rival the ladies at court. If he told her to wear the right dresses, hold her head high, keep her mouth shut, she could be his lady.

But he will certainly not say such things to her.

It may give her ideas above her station.

As she sweeps the soot off the tiles, he watches the way her body moves with the effort, the way her lips are parted in concentration. Such little, pink lips.

He taps his finger against the cup, biting on his cheek when he feels the pained strain of arousal in his breeches. Such an innocent little maidservant, obedient and pliant. He knew from the moment he saw her what to do with her. What he could do with her. The week following their first meeting, Aemond had barely had his cock from his hand, tugging it as he thought of the way she always calls him ‘your grace’ with a flush to her cheeks. The way her eyelashes flutter when she strikes a match to light his candles. And today, seeing how she is dirtied and bent over the fireplace, he thinks why wait, he could just have her right there. Why wait.

The question becomes more difficult to answer the more he looks at her.

She stands with the bucket heavy in her hands and strides towards the door.

“Wait.”

And his cock twitches in his breeches when she does, looking back at him with those eyes, the ones he imagines glazed over with lust, looking up at him as he fucks her. His tongue pokes his cheek as he stands, taking his time while walking towards her, not missing the way her grip tightens around her clasped hands out of nervousness.

He scans her face as he stands before her, blackened soot smeared across one of her cheeks, making the colour of her eyes look as if they are illuminated by light.

He swears he could spill right into his breeches as his hand reaches out to her cheek and her lips part to let a puff of surprised air out. His thumb brushes her cheek, wiping away the soot and he finds his own lips part at the feeling of her warm skin against his hand.

Although his touch is warm, she can feel something akin to fear pool in her gut and something else she does not quite understand. A shiver also runs down her spine when his hand twists that stray curl between his fingers, as if intrigued by her.

She can quite literally feel her lungs contract when his thumb brushes against her bottom lip, barely breaching them, but collecting the wetness that sits at the waterline. He watches her little pink mouth, reddened and oh-so desirable. He wonders what her mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock, fingers threaded in her hair to guide the rhythm to his liking. Would she like it? Would she swallow his spend like the good little maidservant she is? Was she a maiden? Aemond knew she was. And for some reason, it made him want her even more, knowing that no other man has had her, or would ever have her like he wanted to. Like he would.

Her eyes never leave him the entire time, frozen in place, pupils shaking and breath slow, quiet and scattered. Aemond wonders for a moment if she is standing there, cunny wet at the thought of him, at his actions. What would her slick taste like mingled with his? He finds he can't wait to find out.

She breathes again when he steps back, drawing his fingers away from her skin, leaving behind the hotness of his touch.

“Leave.”

Is all he commands. She swallows thickly, really processing what had just happened. But she takes her chance when he has turned around to refill his cup, the bucket clanging in one hand as she allows the chamber door to shut behind her.

Should she tell someone? Hedi perhaps? Should she tell them that she fears that Prince Aemond has unclean intentions, but she fears even more if that assumption is even warranted. He had not been unkind to her, nor had he been particularly kind in any way either. But he had no need to be, she was a lowborn servant and he was a prince of the realm.

She could not disappoint her siblings by risking this job and not sending them money. Risking their lives for a silly little thought of Prince Aemond’s intent with her? Based on no real evidence?

She couldn’t.

So she steadied her breath and instead resumed her duties, largely ignoring that gnawing pit in her stomach. There was a bad feeling around all this, and she couldn’t help but feel it deep in her bones.

She should have listened to her gut. She now realises.

Having lit the fireplace for his return after supper, she sat on the cold, flagstone floor with a needle and thread in one hand and one of his black doublets in the other, fixing the frayed hemming. The heat of the fire licked at the side of her face, warming her soft features as her fingers delicately did their work, faintly humming the only song she knew the words to in her head.

Aemond had come back to his chambers in a mood, quickly shutting the door behind him so hard that it seemed to rattle the very Keep. At once, her wide eyes looked up and she stood to attention, hands clasped as usual. A timid ‘your grace’ came from her lips, softer and quieter than she realised.

He looked absolutely livid, shaking with rage, fists clenched so hard that the knuckles were white and pale. His mouth was taut in a thin line and even his scar managed to look angrier beneath the leather of his eyepatch, his one good eye was still, unnaturally so. His chest inflated with silent breathing, trying to calm himself down, but she could tell he was still angry. In the several weeks she had been attending to him, she’d come to realise the depth of his frustrations for various reasons, but never daring to step beyond her station to ask why.

She breathed as quiet as she could, as if she were in the dark and someone dangerous was looking for her. For a moment, his eye flitted to the floor and then back to her and she thought he was looking at the doublet she was fixing, but it took her a moment to realise he’d been looking at her, dragging his gaze over her form. This fact alone sent gooseflesh on her arms and a shiver down her spine, unable to tell if this feeling was fear or not.

With a low hum, he stalked over to the side table for a cup of wine as he often did, thinking that he would dismiss her shortly, not knowing the aching arousal that he was trying with all his might to hold back. He stood for a moment, not saying anything as he sipped the spiced wine, allowing himself to decide what to do. She was right here, his obedient little thing, nervous with gooseflesh on her skin, cheeks a dusty pink.

He turned around to look upon her, still at war with himself.

Out of sheer nervousness, her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

And that’s when Aemond decided. He needed to have a taste of the little maidservant. Or rather she would have a taste of him.

He stood before her, tall, broad and all encompassing, and she directed her eyes to him, still waiting to be addressed. He simply glared down at her, as if still angry, but in truth he was holding so much back, the hold he had on his own reins were slipping by the second with every breath the little maidservant let free. He finished his cup of wine, sighing as he looked upon her.

“Take your braids out” he commanded.

She blinked for a moment, unsure if she had heard him correctly. But when he raised an eyebrow, she took a steadying breath and reached behind her, not one to refuse a Prince and a passionately angry one at that, she pulled the two pins that kept her braids in place away and tucked them into her apron. She looked down as she began to unravel them, one by one, the hair coming apart in waves around her shoulders. Once all the hair was freed, Aemond hadn’t moved an inch and she flicked her hair over her shoulders to run down her back.

Aemond sighed quietly, looking over her in this new state, hair loose and shockingly casual. He was intrigued to see that the rest of her hair, like the wayward curl at the side of her face, was also wavy, possibly from the braids she’d put in everyday. And he wondered if the beautiful patch of hair that framed her cunny would be the same. He hoped so. And he wondered what the heady scent of her sex would be like, if it would be addictive and once he’d had it, would he be able to stop?

She stood there, eyes averted to the fire and Aemond watched as the flames danced off the colour of them. His breath shuddered with anticipation, watching her pulse thrum in her neck quickly.

Placing the empty cup on the mantle, he cannot hold back any longer.

“Kneel”

She looks at him again, now her eyes spell confusion. Does he want her to kneel to prove her obedience? She doesn’t know.

Her lips part, “Pardon me, your grace?” she says in a whisper.

“I will not ask twice” he barks back almost immediately.

She swallows thickly and smoothes her hand over her apron, tucking the dress beneath her knees as she obeys, slowly sinking back to the floor. She clasps her hands before her, not sitting back on her feet, eyes trained to one corner of the room to ignore the fact that Aemond’s thighs are right before her. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest and she is sure he can hear it as well. It was like she was hiding, waiting for someone to come and find her.

She flinches when she feels his thumb and forefinger grasp her chin, the touch is light but determined and he pulls her head up to look at him. From this angle, Aemond can see all her delicate features and with her lips parted, he sees the wet inside of her pink mouth, warm and inviting. All for him. He can feel his cock needing relief in the tight confines of his breeches and the urge is beginning to overpower him.

“You are my good little maidservant, are you not?” he asks, voice low and commanding.

She can feel her breathing struggling against the front of her dress and she dare not look away.

Finding her voice, she can all but whisper, “Yes, your grace”

He hums lowly, his thumb travelling up to her lips, dipping the tip of it between her lips. His fingers still cradle her soft jaw, keeping her where he needs her, while the flat part of his thumb finally slips across the warm muscle of her tongue. Aemond holds back the desire to outright moan at the feeling of it against his skin, collecting the wetness of her saliva against it, moving forward to completely allow his thumb to be enveloped by her hot mouth.

All the while, she keeps her eyes on him, afraid to look anywhere else. She feels strange, like a constant chill is making its way around her body, overtaking every nerve and replaced with a kind of dark, gnawing feeling. It halts in her gut, where she feels it the heaviest.

After a moment, he pulls his thumb free and smears her saliva over her lips, making them glisten. He wonders if his spend would look as good as this smeared all over them. If she would be good, and dart her tongue out to lap it up.

Powerless to hold back any longer, Aemond hands move to the laces of his breeches, his pupil blown wide with lust at the innocent confusion on her face.

“Now sweet girl” he says, the name making her hairs stand up on end, “will you be good for me”

Again, not a question, more a demand. And she is so shaken, all she can do is nod.

“Have you been with a man, sweet girl” he asks, as he pulls his cock from its confines, using his hand to give himself a few pumps, the tip, red and glistening with precum. He already knows the answer. Just wants to hear her say it.

She shakes her head softly, “No…your grace” she answers with a shake in her voice. She tries to avert her eyes from this member, hard to attention right before her.

One corner of his lips turns up at her bashful nature. One hand threads through her hair, right at her neck, not tugging but not letting go either. She gasps at the action, now unable to move her head.

“Good”

He holds his cock in one hand, aching to bury himself in her mouth. But he holds his animalistic desire back, for the sake of not scaring her too much.

“Open your mouth”

She obeys, pushing her embarrassment aside for the sake of politeness to her master. Her lips part to open her mouth, still semi-unsure of what he will do, her innocence skewing the reality of what's happening to her.

“Wider” he says, now just a low whisper, “That’s it, sweet girl” he coos as she does so.

She cannot say she has seen a man’s parts before and now that she has, if he does intend to do what she thinks, it’s unknown if it will even fit. The thickness of it combined with the length daunts her slightly. As he taps the tip of his cock against her glistening lips, she grips her dress tighter, more out of embarrassment and nerves than anything else. Who would she be to refuse the orders of a Prince anyhow.

His fist tightens in her hair as he slips his cock past her lips, only halfway in he feels her tensing up at the foreign feeling, “Breathe” he orders quietly, “through your nose”. She whimpers at the uncomfortable feeling and wishes not to see anymore, so she shuts her eyes tight, attempting to do as he says and breathe through her nose. His taste is strange, salty and yet not unpleasant. His member is warm and heavy in her mouth, despite not being all the way within and she can feel her mouth aching to accommodate his sheer size. His fingers are tight in her hair, possibly in an attempt to hold himself back, and she whimpers around his cock at the feeling of the tugging of her follicles and the vibrations of her mouth against him make Aemond tip his head back just slightly. He sighs at the feeling of her warm, wet mouth squeezing him so deliciously and he holds back the desire to deliver his spend right into her there and then.

Once he feels she has sufficiently calmed down, relaxed her jaw, Aemond sheathes himself all the way in, briefly touching the back of her throat, making her whimper around his cock again. Her hands fly to his thighs to push him back for reprieve, but he is much too strong for that and he only tightens his fist in her hair more.

Without waiting a moment longer, he cants his hips against her mouth, sliding in and then out slightly, enjoying the friction her mouth gives him. He sees that she still has her eyes shut, hands tight on his leather breeches now and he gives a shuddered moan, tipping his head back all the way now, losing himself in the feeling of fucking her mouth, guiding the rhythm with the hand that’s in her hair.

Caring not that she is a maiden, he hastens his pace and her little whimpers are becoming too loud for him to really enjoy this.

“Quiet” he demands, much more spitefully than he intended .

And she is. Which makes him even more aroused than he could possibly be right now. So obedient. Just the good, sweet girl she is.

At the ache in her jaw, tears begin to pool at the corner of her closed eyes and fall in thin lines down her face. Aemond is lost beyond control, his thrusts sloppy and unforgiving as he feels the tight, wound up pressure of his peak creeping up on him at breakneck speed. He dares to look down at her, accepting his cock into her mouth like a cunt, his shaft now wet with her saliva and thrusting into her with the soft beat of his hips. His other hand comes to the side of her face, using his thumb to wipe the streak of her tear away, before he uses it for more leverage.

He’s never felt more powerful in his life. To have such control over someone he so fervently lusts over. It’s other-wordly. And he has no intention of stopping, not as long as she continues to be the malleable, sweet little thing she is now.

His thrusts cease, and he presses his hips right against her mouth as a strangled and uncharacteristically loud moan escapes his throat. He can feel his spend shoot at the back of her throat, and her flinch when she also feels it. But doing as he says, she makes no sound. Not until his cum begins to pool in one corner of her mouth and only then does she emit the tiniest of sounds. He can now hear the hurried breathing out her nose as she waits for his next command.

Aemond allows his breathing to even out, savouring the look of her, eyes softly shut with his spend and cock in her mouth, before he slowly pulls out. Her lips tightly shut when he does eventually vacate her mouth.

“Look at me”

She can feel something dripping down her face and when she looks at him, he looks a different person entirely. Breathing ragged, hair slightly tousled, looking nothing at all like the prim and proper royal she is used to. Her eyes are glazed, cheeks a dusty pink from the efforts of what he’d done. She waits.

“Swallow”

Assuming he requires her gaze still, she looks between his eye and eyepatch and to the best of her ability, swallows the strange, salty and thick substance in her mouth. She thought it wasn’t unpleasant, the taste of it, but that her jaw ached and she felt the gnawing agony of shame sink in through her skin. Aemond moans outright when he sees her throat bob and her deep exhale after she’s obeyed.

He uses his thumb to collect the line of spend that had leaked from her mouth and puts it back into her mouth, humming at the sight of depositing it against her tongue. She need not be told, and she wraps her lips around the digit, sucking whatever she can off of it, before Aemond is sure that it is clean and pulls out. She shuffles where she is knelt, her knees now aching from the stone, and she feels the slick between her legs as she does so, coating the inside of her thighs. And it confuses her. What is this strange sensation, seeming to come from nowhere, deep and ancient.

Aemond sighs contently and stuffs his softened cock back into his breeches.

“Leave. Now” is all he says to her, not sparing her a second glance as he strides towards the side table once more for another cup of wine.

With a shaky breath, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, still being able to taste the heady, potent taste of his spend. Scrambling to her feet, she dare not look back to him, fearing that the shameful belief within would intensify if she did.

Once the door was shut, she wipes her cheeks of any remaining tears and takes a moment to recover, trying to understand how she feels, what just happened, and what this means for her. Is she a maidservant or a whore. Perhaps she is both now. Living two separate lives for him once the sun has gone down. Does she enjoy the duality of it, she cannot say either way. All she knows is that she cannot possibly refuse him and that she’s not sure if she even wants to. The wetness between her thighs may sway her in one direction, she fears.

She offered up countless prayers to the Mother. For forgiveness. To make her understand.

But the Mother never responded.

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx

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moondustpugh · 10 days

Text

The Hate Formula

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it?

Author's Note: Welcome to another enemies to lovers fic! :) Let's also welcome back our bff, Sara. I'm sort of excited about this because it's so chaotic and fun and as you all know, I usually write angsty sad fics. So, I'm kind of having fun with this one. I hope you all enjoy! Please comments are always welcome! Thank you!

Wordcount: 2.9K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Two Years Ago…

The sun was beating down in the city of New York. It was the middle of July, and the heat was basically a torture for you at the moment. You and your best friend, Sara, were just moving into your new apartment building. The both of you had been roommates since you graduated college, and you both have finally earned enough money to actually rent a nice and bigger apartment. It was both of your dream apartment with the nice kitchen, marbled top counters and big glass windows that overlooked the city skyscrapers.

However, as much as you both were excited with the new apartment, the New York summer heat wasn’t really helping. You were already in shorts, tank top, and your hair was up in a messy ponytail and yet, you were still sweating so much. You both have spent the last two days taking everything out of your old apartment and bringing them into the new building. You and Sara would switch back and forth driving the U-Haul truck, and you both would carry your new furnitures up into the new apartment. You didn’t even realize you had so much stuff until you were packing up your things and had to throw most of the unnecessary ones away.

But today was your last day of moving the rest of your things. All the heavy stuff was already set up and organized in the apartment and the only thing that was left were just boxes of your clothes and miscellaneous stuff for the kitchen.

“I’ll take this last box and I can go drop off the U-Haul truck back.” Sara said, grabbing the last remaining box at the back of the truck.

“Are you sure? I can go with you.” You suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I got it. Maybe I can pick up some pizza for dinner tonight?”

You nodded your head in agreement. “That sounds good. I’m too tired to make dinner.”

Sara chuckled softly, agreeing with you as you both entered the building. You were carrying another box, following behind her and entering the elevator. You loved this new apartment. It was fancy, nice and everything was new. It even had a security guard outside the building that made you feel safe. You couldn’t help but feel proud of how far you two had come.

Ready to finally set down the last box, you followed Sara down the hall when you were greeted by a man from across the hall. He looked familiar, and he looked like he was about your age too. He was, however, shirtless, and he had a grin on his face the moment he saw you.

“Looks like I got new neighbors across the hall.” His English accent slipped through his voice.

You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. He was cute and not to sound too desperate, you rarely have any men interact with you. Especially cute and handsome men. Immediately, you were already hooked as soon as you heard that accent slip through his voice. His chocolate button eyes sparkled as he smiled at you. His curly brown hair was all disheveled, but it made him look more attractive.

“I’m Joe.” He grinned excitedly.

Setting the heavy box down on the floor, you introduced yourself. For a moment, you were reluctant to shake his hand because you were literally all sweaty and dirty from doing all this moving. Joe, however, didn’t hesitate to shake your hand. Instantly, you were already charmed by him.

Or maybe this heat was just getting into your head.

“So, are you new in the city?” Joe asked.

“I’m actually from Chicago, but I’ve been living in New York for five years now.” You cheekily grinned at him.

“I’ve never been to Chicago, but it seems like they have great and beautiful people over there.”

You knew exactly what he was doing.

You knew he was flirting with you, and you couldn’t help but flirt back. He was cute, and him standing here in front of you shirtless was making you slowly fold for him already.

God, you were pathetic.

How were you already blushing and all flustered because of this man? You literally just met him two seconds ago.

“So, you’re moving in with a roommate?” Joe nodded his head towards Sara.

Looking over your shoulder, the door of your apartment was open, and you could see Sara setting down the boxes and organizing the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s Sara. She’s my best friend.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I hope I’m able to get to know you better.” Joe leaned against the doorframe, a flirty grin still plastered on his face.

Before you could say anything else, the door behind him swung open and a woman with disheveled hair looked at the both of you furiously. She was fixing the strap of her mini dress, and she barely had put on her other high heels. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as soon as you saw the angry look on her face. You were literally flirting with someone who had a girlfriend.

Wait, was she even his girlfriend?

And if he had a girlfriend, then why was he flirting with you?

“Really?!” The woman exclaimed, slapping Joe’s arm. “You take me to your place, fuck me, and I haven’t even left yet, and you’re already flirting with another girl?!”

Your eyes widened as you stood there dumbfounded at what she just told him. Your lips parted about to reason with her that you didn’t know he had a girl inside his apartment, but she had started yelling at Joe. She swung her purse to hit him on his stomach, making Joe groan and hunched down in pain before she turned to look at you with wide angry eyes.

Oh god.

You couldn’t believe you fell for it.

You couldn’t believe that you fell for Joe’s charms and flirt talk, only for you to find out that he was a player. He had another girl in his apartment, and he was flirting with you?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

The woman set her palms on his chest and pushed him away and nudged you with her shoulder to push you aside before walking away. You stood there, feeling astounded because you couldn’t even comprehend what just happened. You were exhausted, you were sweaty, and you could barely feel your hands from carrying heavy boxes all day. Your brain was too fried to even deal with this. You couldn’t help but blame the heat for getting too much into your head.

Joe looked over his shoulder, watching the woman walk away as he shook his head and turned back to you.

“She’s just overreacting.” Joe explained.

Tilting your head at him, you raised your brows and let out a scoff.

“Oh really?” You asked, irritated. “Or you’re just a player?”

You shook your head in disbelief, picking up the box from the floor and walked inside your apartment and slammed the door shut behind you.

You couldn’t believe that you actually fell for that.

Looking up from what she was doing, Sara knitted her brows as soon as she saw you enter the kitchen. She couldn’t even describe the expression that was on your face when you had set the box down on the floor.

“What happened?” Sara asked.

“Stay away from the man across the hall.” You said. “He’s a pig.”

Sara just chuckled softly, shaking head. Knowing you for the last couple of years, she knew you could be overdramatic sometimes, especially when it came with men. Although, she didn’t actually expect that the first day in this new apartment was going to be the first of many fights that you and Joe would have. She also didn’t expect that this was going to be something that she was going to start dealing with for the next two years.

As you got up early the next morning, you went for a quick jog around the neighborhood and as soon as you came back into the apartment building, you saw Joe leading a different girl out of his place. You couldn’t help but shake your head and felt disgusted by his behaviour. Then, as days, weeks, months went by, it was the same thing almost every week.

It annoyed you to the core.

You found out a month later that he was an actor and that was why he looked so familiar when you first met him. It wasn’t like you have seen his projects before. Just that one Stranger Things show, but you barely even finished it. However, his little celebrity status wasn’t what you really cared about. You were more disgusted by the fact that he thought he could get whoever he wanted and act like this just because he was an actor.

Ever since then, you had promised yourself to never fall for anything that he would tell you ever again.

Present Day…

The Friday night rush hit the subway station a little too early. You just got out of the office, and you were ready to just go home and snuggle under your comfy blanket. Your eyes studied the many faces of people inside the subway car as you held onto the metal pole. It was packed and everyone was literally shoulder to shoulder.

Thank god that your stop was next because it was starting to smell in there, and you hated it when it was this crowded in the subway. Walking out of the station, you decided to stop by at a local shop near your apartment building and pick up some snacks. As you walked through the aisles, you didn’t even care what you picked out on the shelves. You just started putting everything in your basket, whatever that looked satisfying to you. It was Friday, and you had a long, exhausting day. You deserved a little treat after all the stress from work that you have been dealing with.

Arriving at your apartment building, the moment you exited out the elevator, you instantly saw Joe walking out of his apartment. His curly hair pushed back, he was in fancy clothes, and a playful grin tugged on his lips the moment his eyes caught you. You rolled your eyes at him as he chuckled softly when he passed by.

“Is that what you're going to do on a Friday night?” Joe asked, looking down at the plastic bag that you were holding in your hand.

You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him with an annoyed expression on your face. The last thing you wanted to do was deal with his obnoxious behavior.

“Do you ever mind your own business?” Your eyes were literally giving him a death glare.

Joe’s grin widened as he took a few steps forward closer to you. His index finger softly grazed the top of your nose as he poked it. Immediately, you made a face and swatted his hand away.

“Not with yours.” Joe murmured, amusement all over his face.

You could feel the anger and frustration coming up in your emotions. You didn’t understand how he never got tired of annoying you. It has been two years since you have moved in and every day, Joe always found a way to make you feel irritated. You didn’t care one bit if he was an actor. You didn’t care if he has a little celebrity status.

He was still disgusting, and he was still a pig.

You felt your nose flared in anger as you grimaced at his little comment. “Is there someone else you could torture?!”

Your voice raised as Joe laughed softly and poked your nose again.

“Yes, but I like doing it to you.”

“And what are you going to do, hm?” You raised your brow at him. “You’re gonna go out there and pick up a new girl again?”

Joe shrugged, “Well, at least I’m not spending my Friday night with a bag of Doritos and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.”

“Well, at least I’m not an asshole.” You retorted back.

Pushing him out of your way with your shoulder, you could see the playful grin that kept tugging on his lips, but you ignored it as you unlocked your door and immediately slammed the door shut behind you. Groaning in frustration, you set the plastic bag on the dining table and saw Sara walking out of the bathroom. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she was holding a towel to dry it.

“What did he do now?” Sara asked.

Sara had lived with you in this apartment building for two years now, and she knew exactly what was happening whenever you entered your apartment with that look on your face. There was no one else in this world that could get under your skin but Joe. Not even your annoying boss or co-workers at work could get you all worked up like this, and Sara could see that every time.

Sometimes Sara would wish that Joe would literally get under your skin, so the both of you could stop playing this game and admit what you two actually felt for one another.

But she would never say that to you nor would admit what she could see between the both of you.

She knew it would just enrage you even more. She couldn’t help but just shake her head and chuckle at your reaction all the time because after all, it seemed like she was the only one who could see why Joe tends to push all your buttons so easily.

“He’s just being an asshole like always.” You grumbled, taking out the snacks that you bought from the plastic bag.

Sara laughed softly, grabbing the bag of Doritos, opening it. She tilted her head at you and said, “You know, I don't understand why can’t you both just ignore each other?”

You gazed up at her with an even more frustrated look on your face. “Are you kidding? You think I don’t wanna do that? He’s the one who’s always starting something.”

“Always?” Sara raised her brow at you.

What was she trying to say?

When you didn’t answer her question, she added, “Remember when he had a package that was accidentally left on our doorstep, and you held it hostage for two weeks?”

You knitted your brows, stuttering for a moment and said, “He… He deserved it. Besides, I was doing everyone a favor.”

“Holding his package hostage until he kept the noises down from his apartment wasn’t doing everyone a favor!” Sara argued. “You two were arguing in the middle of the hall every day, and that was a lot noisier.”

You rolled your eyes, scratching your forehead in frustration. You shrugged your shoulders and pursed your lips without even arguing back with Sara because yeah, you did that on purpose because you just wanted to piss him off the way he always pissed you off all the time.

“Are you still mad about what happened two years ago?” Sara asked.

You scoffed, stunned at the subject that Sara had brought up.

“No!” Your voice sounded defensive. “Yes, I clearly fell for his charms but that was before I knew how much of a fuckboy he is.”

Sara chuckled, rolling her eyes at the excuse that you were throwing at her. She never pressed the subject every time she would see that the angry meter on top of your head was starting to spill over. Sometimes she would just imagine grabbing the both of you and banging each other’s heads to see if you both would realize how ridiculous this stupid game you two kept playing. She never understood how both of you weren’t tired of it after two years.

“Which is too bad.” You added, grumbling under your breath. “Because he’s cute.”

Sara stuffed her mouth with Doritos as she settled herself on the sofa. She lets you continue grumbling under your breath until you have let all your feelings out. That was what she always did because then, she would be able to really see how strong your feelings were for Joe. She knew you were just angry with how he behaves, so Sara just let you do your thing as she started browsing movies on Netflix.

“Hey! That’s my Doritos!” You scolded her after you finally had gone back to reality.

“Too late now.” Sara deviously smiled, throwing a piece of Dorito at you. “Are you done?”

“Done with what?”

“Grumbling over Joe.”

“I wasn’t—” You exhaled a sharp breath. “You know what, I’m gonna go freshen up. You can pick the movie for tonight.”

Walking away, you went to shower to wash away today's stress and settled next to Sara later that night. Holding the pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, you reached over and grabbed some Doritos from the bag that was sitting on Sara’s lap. As you focus your attention on the movie, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander somewhere else. You couldn’t help but recall your little conversation with Joe from earlier.

“Are we this sad? Spending Friday nights like this?” You asked Sara, turning to face her.

Sara shrugged, gazing up at the ceiling for a moment as if she was thinking about your question carefully.

“Maybe.” She answered. “But at least we’re not getting our hearts broken.”

Laughing softly with her, you nodded your head in agreement.

“True.”

*********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #The Hate Formula #part one #moondustpugh

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xgoldentempest · 1 month

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nsfw merman au feydpaul thoughts

i am thinking CRITICAL thoughts about feydpaul mermaid au...either feyd as this otherworldly creature (could be merman, shark, octopus?), cast out of his pod because of his ferocious fighting nature and deemed too dangerous to keep around when he comes of age. paul, human, sailing on board the arrakeen, with his father (still the duke) on the way to meet his mother (and duncan/guerney) in a new ? location idk. their ship gets attacked in the middle of the night, paul sees his father die on another man's blade. they come for him next, the pretty little duke's son, put a gag in his mouth - but he wriggles free, kicks a man but earns a long cut with a blade against his side for his trouble. he jumps overboard, and swims, cold panic squeezing his lungs. feyd smells him, blood in the water, for the first time in his life he knows the smell of mate, and his lonely existence seems to narrow down on this scent as the new centre of his universe. he is gripped with fear, why is his mate bleeding? until he finds paul, close to fainting as the blood loss and cold water tries to pull him under - and drags him to cave. paul is in and out of consciousness by this point, but feyd gets him out of those cold human fabrics and wraps himself around his body to try and warm him up instead. he licks up paul's cut, relishing in his mate's lifeblood gift to him - more than enough of a courting gift for him, he bled so feyd could find him! ig his saliva has magical healing properties idk. paul wakes to find this creature wrapped around him, feyd lets go because he thinks paul is disappointed in the lack of a prepared nest for him, so he quickly gets to work bring in nest-materials, and food, and he brings paul new things everyday as courting gifts and is giddy when paul slowly starts to take them. paul just thinks it's better to not offend the creature feeding him.

(for enjoyers of monsterfucking one may imagine feyd deciding he needs to clean paul, every day, preferably with his tongue (healing saliva pops off here) and yes - every part of him. paul atriedes is getting tongue in his ass bro. preferably multiple times a day if feyd has anything to say about it. he's also fascinated with paul's balls cause while he has a breeding pouch/tentacle thingo he doesn't really have an equivalent. he may also make the mistake of thinking that paul is then in a constate state of knot and feyd pities him greatly for the pain this must cause him - knotted all the time but with no relief to soothe him? and wants to suck on his balls like 24/7 which drives paul absolutely mental because he's a virgin duke's son and masturbation had been perfunctory at best and ohmygodsosenstive. feyd sees it as perfectly routine to worship your mate however he can and actually worries he is unworthy of paul, for feyd has had little sexual experience too, and that he is not good enough to give his little mate the ecstasy he deserves. paul on the other hand could not disagree more.

for noncon enjoyers: one may imagine feyd uhhh sliding some tentacles/fingers into paul's ass during the night just to keep him nice and plugged and full because feyd is territorial af. bonus points if feyd thinks it will help soothe my mate's constant knot! by milking his prostate. paul notices but lets him keep doing it anyway because he realises somewhere along the line it felt weirder to not be plugged and also he might be a little bit in love with this creature anyway.

anyway as paul starts to heal, he's been grieving for his father but realises his mother may have come looking for him. in this version he doesn't want to be duke all that badly and alia is aged up so she's only a few years younger than him so when he finally meets up with them he's like damn i kinda like it here. alia want to take over?

also come mating season feyd really wants paul to incubate his clutch and gets really sad when paul freaks the fuck out and doesn't want eggs inside him.... until he relents...... look is it so wrong to want that boy's holes full ...

idk i just had an image of feyd with black eyes and spikes down his back and now we're here. i think he would be hella cool as an octopus tho. does anyone fw this or am i yelling into a void. if u think this is weird. you're right but i won't apologise.

#dune #dune part two #feydpaul #paul atreides #paul x feyd #feyd rautha #feyd x paul #paul atreides x feyd rautha #my post

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lesfir · 1 month

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This is the kind of post that become a flight of thought and reasoning with a bit of hc. The Break Up with Lord Astarion Like: Asc Astsrion dickpic photo of a drunk ex - behavior nah well if drunk... still nah+meh Astarion has centuries of seduction experience. His brains aren't so smooth as to send Tav a "dickpic" in hopes of attention and success. He'll come up with a really nice and neat plan to get Tav to come to him on their own. He's got time. It's AU meme modernity ofc. It's hard to work. Without context, Astarion loses a lot. The medieval, vampirism and slavery is a big context. Depends on how painful it was. Let's say it went okay, a little uncomfortable, but normal. In modern times, if Tav was kind, he'd be something charitable, showy. For Tav and good for building influence, too. For love of the people. If Tav was more evil. He'd be doing something extravagant, still logical. Looking like a fool is not a best seduction tactic. For a good Tav, he'd create parks in the city, and support the arts, charities. For the evil Tav, he would seek influence in closed circles so that those she knows about (admires) would talk about him and his deeds like new skyscraper-hotels with casinos. In any field he would quickly become famous: a beautiful man with refined taste. Speaking of the Middle Ages, in Faerun. Depends on what Tav is interested in, it's magic - the best relics from around the world in Baldur's Gate. New opportunities for mages from all over Faerun. Come to Baldur's Gate. Warfare - don't even ask. Fella will climb into any dragon lair on his own to get to impress. (And have some fun). Astarion despite having goals, would quite enjoy and discover new things in the world. In general, he would get his way. I don't think it's even canonically obsessive, that you can't get off once, like a frenzy, nah.

He'd remember his personal plans, he'd party a lot, he'd be sad sometimes that Tav couldn't share the fun with him. Eventually he was able to taste the food again. There was so much around that he couldn't for 200 years. Seriously he would eat 10 kinds of desserts and enjoy them, forgetting everything. I prefer it when Tav loves everything and shares eternity, pleasures and decadence, the line of play. In this line-breakup I'm more interested in the “partners in crime” that Lord Astarion suggests. That's the fun line of the game.

Here, if Tav friendly agrees, he definitely:

Kinda Friendship Zone. But Astarion is ok with it.

-- Everyone on the Sword Coast thinks they're having an affair. -- He very often emphasized in the beginning that Tav was his friend, like a little poke. But he stopped doing that when Tav returned the favor. -- Astarion feels the need to touch Tav's hand. In general, touching Tav makes him feel better. This Tav is also tactile, she needs to touch someone she likes, someone she is friends with. -- That Tav is a druid. She turns into a frog if Astarion goes too far. And starts croaking. A thing that makes him angry, sad and happy. -- Astarion crosses the lines of edgy flirting while dancing. -- Sometimes Astarion thinks dark thoughts, but he always just thinks them. He has time. To lose her smile is to be a fool. -- He always sulks for about three days when their temprs clash. But that doesn't happen very often. This Tav is as calm as a toad in the sun. -- Surprisingly. He was so greedy for her time, literally, but he'd only gently invite her to join him - for a party, a walk, on a ship to Calimport. Tav had said no a few times. Needing to keep her distance, not to spoil the greedy dragon. And he'd just go like a cat and she'd be bored while he got the fun of traveling. He brought back souvenirs. But she would have liked to see his smile the first time he looked at this town. -- No friend in the Realms gets gifts like Tav. -- His legions of crows are on duty outside her house. Tav didn't mind, she didn't have the best opinion of the world anyway. They were showing up together, these rumors... who need to prick him, will prick her. -- At sunset they often walk together in the parks in the Upper City.

#ascended astarion #lord astarion #astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #my analysis

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lazywriters-blog · 2 years

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DENIED PROPOSAL

YANDERE PRO-HERO TODOROKI SHOUTO

Summary: What if you reject a pro heroes proposal? And who is also willing to force it.

Warning: May contain triggering content, non-consensual touching, and yandere behavior. Enjoy!

Entering the skyscraper that once belonged to the endeavour agency was a rare experience.

It was only made mandatory for her when her friend insisted that he had something of importance to say. Inviting her to visit him in his busy agency, surprisingly, the building had been empty of any occupants. Rather it was otherworldly and eerily serene. Her footsteps echoed.

Not what she had in mind.

She had consoled herself upon seeing how big the place was, that there would be somebody to assist her if she got lost, but there was no one typing away or receiving distress calls, it was making her anxious.

She carried on regardless, distracting her troubling thoughts with the man himself. Shouto.

She and the youngest son of the todoroki family met online, only astonishing themselves when they came face to face during their final year at middle school, that they knew each other as distant classmates. They bonded more during those last days.

Got to know each other, shared their funny and sad life stories, opened up about their inner struggles, teasing each other, however, it was mostly on her part, shouto wasn't that talkative, she was the one who would go out of her way to get him to freely converse, although she didn't talk much either. Except for when she was around him.

There were bittersweet memories.

After a long moment of locating the elevator, she prepared herself mentally, rehearsing what to say and what not to say, fixing her getup to see if she appeared suitable and proper.

The fresh aroma of roses and the fragrance of expensive cologne greeted her as the elevator doors opened, the place had a warm glow to it with plenty of windows featuring the lanky buildings outside, although she shouldn't be feeling uneasy, her stomach was churning with dread.

Only for it to be weakened when she heard footsteps behind her. Seeing her friend's unique coloured eyes brighten up after sighting her.

"Oh... You came, you could have told me to come to get you, I was starting to get worried." He softly confessed clearing the gap between her. She smiled, reminding herself that she was meeting her friend after a long time. She shouldn't feel uncomfortable for no tangible reason.

"Sorry, you know I am a little slow with grasping things..."

"There's no need to apologise." He muttered, tenderly bringing her hand close and caressing them, she hadn't expected that. Promptly she laughed and dragged her hand back, his touch somehow still lingering on her skin.

"So how have you been?" She gleefully asked, filling in the awkward tension with words.

"I've been good." He replied, his gaze glued to hers undaring to tear them away. She wasn't feeling too good.

"You've grown since the last time I saw you. Guess it's true that boys grow up faster after reaching a certain age." She said fiddling with the strap of her bag to mellow out the sickening feeling in her gut.

He didn't say anything in return, he listened. Then he proceeded to say.

"Let's sit down and talk." She nodded, following him further into the floor.

Silently admiring the scenery whilst shouto simply sauntered to whatever place he wanted her to be. His board back and his double-coloured hairs stole her attention, his hair a little dishevelled, wearing his usual hero costume unlike her, he told her to come up nicely dressed, guessing it was perhaps a get-together with few others.

That doesn't seem to be the case.

Shortly, they both stepped into his office, and he closed the door behind them, the lock clicking in place, she's sure she heard it.

Forcing herself to sit down and calm her nerves, she watched as her friend settled down beside her, something was amiss, and the atmosphere had suddenly gotten tauten. She stared at him.

Wordlessly begging him to finish whatever he had to tell, she pulled her fingers tighter, entertaining cruel notions.

"Will you give me your hand?"

She went stiff. Questioning his intentions. The festering solemnity in his eyes was frightening her. Hesitantly she extended her hand to him, observing the subtle changes in his expression.

"I know it's sudden but, will you marry me?"

Her heart dropped. All she could muster was a, "huh? What...?" Awkwardly wishing to retract her hand back but he tightened his hold.

"I mean it. It's what's best for us both." He sternly whispered. She had to step in.

"I don't think I see you that way, you are like a small brother to me. I don't love you that way." She mumbled. While she was only three months older than him, it gave her the same feeling akin to protecting someone a little less experienced and younger than her.

"I'm sure you'll find someone much better than me." She tried to comfort him, however, she wasn't sure if it helped.

"I'll help you find someone!"

She half-heartedly attempts to pull her hand back, fully aware that the best course of action was either to shift the topic or take her untimely leave. His silence wasn't helping, rather reinforcing more fear in her.

Strongly snatching her hand she gives him a sad smile, wishing it would somehow minimise her denial, walking towards the door with haste, looking back one last time and that was the mistake she had to avoid. He was up on her feet calmly watching her.

"I'll text you... When I reach home." She forced a grin, turning her back to him, shaking the doorknob when it hit her, he had locked it. Like a mindless idiot, she forgot in that moment of apprehension. She wanted to kill herself.

Would he even be willing to unlock it? She could only try.

"Shouto um... Could you-"

"I don't want to." He instantly replied with a bitter tone, his voice closer than she remembered, dare she say, different. So different.

"Please. I want to go home." She firmly insisted, slightly narrowing her eyes at the male. "Look, whatever I did to mislead you I'm sorry, you were my only friend and I didn't know how friends treated each other."

"Fine." He responded. "I'll open the door for you- only if you accept my offer."

"Shouto... I told you, we are friends!" Her temper was rising, she neared him, "you aren't thinking of keeping me here till I surrender and agree to your marriage proposal, are you?"

"I might." He truthfully admitted, maintaining eye contact with her fiery ones.

"Don't be childish shouto!!" She loudly complained, storming to the door and frantically shaking the knob, slamming her body against it when her tries were rendered futile.

"Shouto, please!! This is not funny!!" She cried out, tears quick to gather in her eyes upon comprehending the sobriety of the implementation. If she couldn't leave, what then? She doesn't wanna be in this room with him any longer.

The knowledge that her friend of 5 years had grown loving of her was hard enough to swallow.

His hand strongly grabbed ahold of hers, dampening her struggle and preventing it from escalating, heaving her by the waist when it proved to be tricky to tow her by the wrist.

She wasn't calming down.

But then he felt her kick him, drawing out a pained grunt, it irritated him, so much. Slamming her body on the table, it ended her attempts for a second, enough time for him to urge her legs apart and force his own between her warm core.

"Stop." He lowly growled glaring down at her.

She stifled her breath, facing away from his double-coloured eyes. It allowed him to muzzle his face into the crook of her neck, and she didn't intend it, kickstarting her struggle once more.

"No!! Stay away from me!" Putting all her strength into pushing his chest away she closes her eyes shut, however, it didn't please him. Prompting him to bite down as hard as he could.

"Am I that undesirable?" He softly whispered near her ear, his breath tickling her skin and pressuring her brain to focus on that spot. "Tell me why you denied me."

"Don't you like me? Am I not good to you?"

"I like you!! I really like you shouto!" She shouted, but anyone would know she was lying.

It was all she needed to say to catch him off-guard, to make him believe, to fool him, and he fell for it. His eyes lid up, hoping this time it was the truth, that this was real and he would be naive enough to accept it.

"Do you mean that?" He chuckled leaning down, trembling from uncertainty she nodded, gently snaking her hand down, feeling the plastic card hanging from his supply belt.

"Yeah-- I shouldn't have tried to prank you like this." She whimpered, tears steadily rolling down her cheek. Her lips curled in and soon let out a pained sob.

She was always the mischievous one, trying to gain a reaction from him many times. Maybe that's what he liked about her...

"I'm sorry..."

Her voice was delicate and soft, weakened, she couldn't be lying, she just couldn't be. Stroking the tears off her cheeks, their nose touching, his eyes wandering to her lips and unhappy eyes.

"I'm sorry- I shouldn't have done that." To tug him further into her deception, before he could doubt her she moved her face to his and connected their lips.

It was quick and short, straight to the point, and that was all she wanted to execute her plan and rudely wake him up from his delusions.

His grip had loosened and this was her chance.

With the back of her palm, she harshly struck him across the face and shoved him off her frame, earning herself a dangerous opportunity. Swiping the card and unlocking the door, she bolted to the elevator.

To her utter shock, ice was creeping up behind her. He was using his quirk. Painting a delicate layer of ice coating the lunette windows. It made her all the more miserable.

The grand and luxurious office becomes a place of imprisonment with frost cravings, encasing everything it reached into ice sculptures, cold and unwelcoming to the touch. Just like the man once was. It sends a chill down her spine. He would see it that she acknowledge him, see his way, and learn why he is doing so much.

She could see him walking in her direction, steady and menacingly slow, his fist was clenched, his face reflecting all the resentment going through his mind, and it also made her doubt her ability to escape.

She quickly hid, hoping to slowly make her way to the exit as quietly as possible.

The ice softly crunches beneath his pale boots his multicoloured eyes preying on her footsteps, which she almost hadn't managed to evade before the frost could seal her in place and leave her helpless.

Her short heels weren't helping much against the freezing floor, her hands had gone chill and numb her breath sending shivers down her skin and having the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She couldn't bear the sudden drop in temperature and shouto was a silent predator. It wouldn't take long for him to drag her out of her hiding place.

Quickly wrapping her arms around her chest her body quivering, teeth chattering, she quietly attempted to make some distance with the pro-hero right behind her trail. Her movements were slowing down.

Striving to fight the urge to curl up and shudder, she carried on, how could she survive this predicament? When she feels she's already failing.

She should have kept her mouth shut.

"Ah..." Her eyes quickly widened, falling on her butt when there wasn't enough time to get up and run, gently pushing herself backwards, staring at the looming build of her best friend.

"Please... Please let's talk." She mumbled, drawing in a stiff breath feeling sick from how fast her heart was beating, how her thoughts were growing illogical.

"There's nothing we can talk about." He replied crouching down to her eye level, an ounce of tenderness in his gaze watching her move away from him. "I said what I needed to say, and you didn't react to it well. You rejected my proposal."

His tone grew bitter, stern and hurt, remembering how she smiled and deceived him, let him know he was being unreasonable, that she saw him as her dear friend and brother, her small brother, all this time, he thought she was showing him passionate liking. When, in reality, she didn't love him.

"Tell me, did you enjoy leading me on? Making me fall for you, telling me how you were feeling, what was bothering you. It was all a lie." He snarled.

She was furthering herself away from him.

She wasn't reciprocating his feelings.

His left side had started to tremble, however, he still focused his attention on the girl. Without a second thought, he grabbed her body closer to him, she had begun to scream, shrieking and trying to push him away, but she wasn't going to loosen his hold anytime soon. Not when he was so warm.

"We could get out of here if you want. You only have to say yes, we'll only have each other in the end." He whispered in her ear, nuzzling in the crook of her neck, his breath grazing her skin.

"Stop screaming. You'll hurt your throat."

He quickly brought her closer, forcing her hands to still against his chest, her sweet-smelling scent he'd breathe in every day clouding his thoughts.

He could freeze her to death.

Seizing her hand he took out the ring he had organized for her, slipping it into her fingers and cherishing the way it looked. What it meant.

He returned his gaze to the girl in his arms, letting her quiver and regret whatever she did.

Now, they were engaged.

And closer than ever.

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kahlanmars · 1 year

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BAD FEELING part.3

part.3 is here! I'm sorry, I know I'm spamming but I just like this fic so much and I love Haymitch and I love everything. As usual, english is not my first language so please have mercy.

Comment if you want me happy! *gif not mine*

MASTERLIST

Part 2

Too damn beautiful

After dinner, Effie suggests you see the reapings in the other districts before you go to bed. It’s actually a good idea, because you don’t want to go to your room and think. Thinking it’s something you crave not to do right now.

«Why are the last victors not here?» Your tribute asks, and it’s actually a fair question.

«Oh, President Snow thought they had so much to do with their wedding! They’ll be mentors next year.» Bummer, you could have used Peeta’s help. This boy is the mastermind of strategies at the age of seventeen. And Katniss… Katniss could have helped you with survival skills. You are terrified your mentor drinks his heart out not to see you two die in the games, not even trying to save you. No, he wouldn't. He would? You are not sure.

You sit beside Haymitch, far away from Clark that always looks at you like he wants to murder you. He has plenty of time for that in the arena, you don’t understand why he needs to be so open about it.

Your mentor is visibly drunk, but you know how to handle this man when he drinks and he actually feels safer than your companion in the games. And he smells really good in spite of his inebriated state. Like musk and whisky - and no one can deny whisky has a great taste. You want whisky. Maybe later.

Effs lights the television - followed by your “thank you, Effie” and the district one is displayed in his honour. You have to admit district one is beautiful.

A young woman volunteers, she looks like she’s your age, she has a wonderful muscular body and shiny blonde hair. Straight out of an academy, probably one that was in line to volunteer when she was sixteen.

«She’s stunning and deadly.» You comment, mesmerised and scared by her beauty.

«You can look deadly too if you commit to it!» Says Effie. “Thanks for the stunning part”, you think, but it’s true. You can pass at “nice” and “pretty” if you clean yourself, but it’s a kind of prettiness that disappears in front of girls like her or your escort.

«We will have another strategy for her.» Declares Haymitch and he places a hand on your leg. You thought he fell asleep, but apparently he is awake.

The male tribute of district one is similar to his female counterpart, and so the tributes of district 2 and 4. District 3’s girl is barely nineteen years old, crying her heart out. You get her. You want to protect this little girl, and it scares you. Same thing with the man of District 10, who has to be thirty but he looks like a middle aged man due to his hard work, and has a stare so sad you want to say to him everything is going to be okay.

«How am I going to kill these people?» You whisper to yourself, letting yourself go on the couch. The weariness is coming, you managed to be chatting and outgoing all day, consoling everybody next to you, but right now you can’t anymore and when you feel tears merging through your eyes you know you have to be alone.

Yours is the last reaping. You see yourself be called, in your pretty little dress and daisies in your black hair, jumping into Haymitch’s arms and then saying hi to Katniss and Peeta. You look distraught, almost in shock, while Holly is devastated. Clark has a stolid, imperturbable look on himself, like he knew. In comparison you are the weak one.

Well, in reality you are the weak one.

«I’m sorry, I’m so tired.» You excuse yourself and go to your room.

You are tired, but you can’t sleep. Instead you begin to cry, and at least you can do it alone, when no one watches you and judges you. You cry because it’s unfair, you are only twenty four, you can still do a lot of things. You wanted to be a teacher. You wanted to marry one day, have kids because you are terrific with children and now you are condemned to be a murderer if you are incredibly lucky, and killed in 90% of the possibilities. And everyone expects that you are on board, combative, competitive, lethal. You are not.

You eventually fall asleep sobbing.

You hardly hear a knock on the door. You think of not opening that, but this could be Effie, and you don’t want to be harsh on her.

You get up, as you try to clean your face from the tears, but your eyes are puffed and sparkling. You notice with a surprise that in front of you there’s no Effie, there’s your mentor.

«Haymitch?» You ask, your throat sore from the bawling.

«You are waking up the entire train, sweetheart.» He points out. If he was sleeping he didn’t change his clothes, he probably passed out drunk on the couch where you were two hours ago. You are almost ashamed of yourself for thinking “Still fine, tho”.

«I’m so very sorry, tomorrow I’ll ask for sleeping pills.» You reply in a light tone, as if anything is wrong. Maybe he is tired and doesn’t want to debate.

«Mh.» He stares at you with his blue eyes. You smile like it’s everyday and you are still working for him, but it’s a charade and he knows it. «It’s ok if you lie to them, but I’m the one who has to keep you alive.»

«Will you try?» You murmur, dropping the fade. You are terrified of letting him see the truth, because when you stop acting there’s no guarantee you can do it again tomorrow.

«Will you?» He shots back.

He knows you, he knows you have no combat skills and you can’t even kill the rabbits to eat, as you always let him or Holly do that, or you buy them from Katniss and Gale Hawthorne when you cook for the major. He has to know you have zero chances.

«I’m not a hunter.» You whisper as if you talk slowly and briefly it’s not the truth.

«There is more in the games than just being a hunter. You are a pretty thing, you can actually have sponsors, and you know the erbs. But I can do my part, for your part I need your collaboration. If you decide it’s not worth it, you might as well tell me now so I can accept this goddamn drink I want!»

He is raging, you’ve never seen him that way, not even when you are in his house and he storms in strongly inebriated. The first instinct you have is to say sorry, but you can tell it’s not the right thing to do.

«I promise I’ll do everything I can to stay alive.» You say instead, shivering from the fear and the cold, as you are standing bare feet in a nightgown.

He seems to calm down, and he takes a look at you. «Tomorrow we will discuss strategy. Now go before you catch a cold.»

«Haymitch?» You call him before closing the door.

«Mh?»

«Thank you.»

You wake up early in the morning, take a long hot shower and then you choose a white dress. You don’t do a braid or anything, let your raven hair loose on your shoulders, and you dare to use a little bit of the blush and mascara you have found in your room. As you watch yourself in the mirror you can look at a doe eyed, cute sweet girl. It’s not much, but you think you can work your image on that.

You leave your room to have breakfast, and you can see Effie is delighted to see you and even make you do a spin. You feel a little proud of yourself.

«That’s lovely, my dear! You look like a… a…» She can’t quite pick a word but Haymitch, sitting at the table with his glass already full, helps her.

«Princess from a fairytale.»

«A Princess, exactly! It is wonderful, my dear. And without a designer! You have talent.» She looks very happy, and that makes you smile. You like making Effie happy, genuinely happy.

«What do you think?» You turn to Haymitch, and you hope he notices this is a way to commit. He nods.

«Come, we’ll discuss the strategy.» He seems a little tipsy.

«Shouldn’t we wait for Clark?» You ask. You hate him, but you don’t want to be rude.

«I don’t think you two will be allies, do you?»

He totally has a point. You take a cream puff and you nearly squeal when you taste it. It’s so good! You’ve never had something so good in your entire life. You take another. And another. The older man watches you with a smirk on his face that makes you blush.

«Talk! I can listen and eat at the same time.» You tell him with a smile.

«I didn’t want to spoil your fun.» He jokes. «So, you are not a warrior, or a killer. But you are good with plants, and you know who to cook and light a fire, and you are nice to people. It makes you bearable.»

«He is trying to say you are adorable, dear!» Effie steps in. You thank her, but you can swear that’s not what Haymitch wanted to say.

«But doesn’t that make me look weak?»

«Could be, but you are strong too. You can carry me to bed when I can’t do that alone, remember?»

You nod. It doesn’t happen often, but it happens.

«Strength and sponsors can save your life. Today you will meet the stylist to prepare you for the parade. Make an impression.»

«Thank you, mentor.»

«Don’t call me that.» He shushes you and he drinks. It’s barely eight o’clock.

As you go into your room before Clark arrives, you approach an avox. «Miss Trinket says not to serve any alcohol before midday.» You say to him like it’s an order that Effie gave to you.

You quickly arrive at Capitol City. The city is marvellous, and you go to the window of the train to wave at the people and to see as much as you can. You thought District 12 to be the least interesting, but a lot of people are waving and blowing kisses in your direction. You quickly understand that you are so lucky to be there at that precise moment, you have to act. You blow kisses, say hi particularly to the little kids, smile for the crowd.

When you see Haymitch coming from the table, addressing his room, you catch him by his arm and point your finger in his direction for the crowd to see, as you continue to be Capitol's little princess, and when you notice Effie approaching you, you run in her direction to take her near the window with you, letting her have her five minutes of fame beside you as you preach her and give a little kiss to her on the cheek.

«What is that?» Haymitch asks you when he's able to go away from the windows. «They have to remember you, not us.»

«You managed to save not one but two of your tributes last year, I want them to connect me with you.»

«And Effie?»

«Look at her, she is so happy.»

He shakes his head, eager to be alone in his room.

Due to Katniss's marriage, Cinna is not able to be your stylist this year and the poor Portia has to collaborate with the two tributes.

You have to go to the prep team, and you meet three weird figures. A man named Flavius and two women, Venia and Octavia. They are in typical Capitol fashion, with wigs and strong makeup.

The only man, named Flavius, watches your hair in displeasure and sighs.

«Haymitch told us not to change your hair, sweetie.»

Thank you Mentor, you think.

After what you think is almost an hour (you really didn’t want to know what a wax was), you are headed to Portia.

When you arrive at the parade, you don't even look like yourself anymore. Portia is a genius. Your outfit is black like coal, but it's a long chiffon dress with a low - very low cleavage. Your neck and shoulders are full of black small pearls that sparkle with the lights. Your makeup is elegant, red lipstick and black eyeshadows. They added perfume, something you never had in your life.

You feel pretty. Maybe not beautiful, but pretty. Even taller.

Effie greets you with compliments when you approach your team for the parade, but you search the other tributes. They are so beautiful you are quickly humbled. Clark is there too, but you two ignore each other.

You are actually looking around when another mentor comes to you. District four. What the hell, it’s Finnick Odair. Even in the District you know Finnick Odair, because he is a celebrity. No, he is *the* celebrity. He is handsome, with a wicked smile and he wants you dead, you assume. You hope that Haymitch wants the other tributes dead. Does he plan to kill you when he is with Clark? Is he making his mind right now, deciding who to save?

«First Katniss Everdeen, then you. District 12 only has beauties.»

«It’s Portia’s work, not me.» You admit. Shit, maybe you could lie. You didn’t think about it. Are you panicking? You are panicking. For Finnick Odair. Well, it is fair. How is his hair so shiny? It’s not possible. Maybe it’s the sea water.

«Give yourself some credit, Pinecone.» He hands you something. «Want a sugarcube?»

«Did you put poison in it?» You answer back, with a smile on your face.

«Not before the games.» He assures. «I hope we’ll see each other again, Pinecone.»

«But you shouldn't…» You are talking alone, because he’s back to his tributes in a moment, leaving you confused as hell.

You return to your team, where everyone is staring at you with a big question mark on their forehead. You can’t help but notice Haymitch, who got cleaned up. He is in a black suit and you immediately forget even the name of Finnick Odair. He is rough and he has to shave his beard and you absolutely adore him. If he doesn’t want to let you alone in the arena and give all the sponsors to Clark.

«What did Finnick Odair want from you?» Effie asks, and you can tell she is excited. She has a point.

«He offered a sugarcube.» You say back. You literally have no idea what just happened.

«And did you take it?» She keeps going. «He is handsome!»

«Not my type, but yes, he is.» You manage to look at Haymitch. Oh, c’mon, you are going to die in a week, you can flirt a little.

«Look at you two!» Effie changes the subject and gives you and Clark the hand. «You are so beautiful! For a tribute. You are going to collect a lot of sponsors tonight!»

«Tonight?»

«Since you are older, President Snow thought that you could participate at the party tonight. It’s not the right place for a sixteen year old…» Or a twelve year old, but she doesn’t say that. «But you are older, so why not?»

You can think of a reason or two, like that in a few days you are sent to die, but she seems so happy you just can’t spoil her fun.

«Come, it’s time.» Haymitch declares and puts a hand on your hips. Dear heavens. «I know your balance, do you want a hand with the chariot?»

You glare at him, but he is actually right and your tribute is not going to help you. «My knight in shining armour.» You ironically say back.

«Tonight you stay close to me.» It is an order, not an invitation, and he is deadly serious. «You are too damn beautiful for your own good.» Your heart skips a beat.

«Thank you?» You whisper.

«Not the right answer. The right answer is “Yes, Haymitch, I’ll be on sight”.» He seems raging. You are sure you didn’t do anything wrong this time. You look into his blue eyes for answers, but receive nothing.

«Yes, Haymitch, I’ll be on sight.»

Why the hell is everyone talking in code at this damn parade?

#fanfiction #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch imagine #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x fem!reader #haymitch x reader #the hunger games

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

Text

Victim of Love Chapter 11: In This Moment

Series: Victim of Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Liam x Riley, Liam x Hana, Riley x Hana (past)

Word Count: 1,421

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: None really, just sadness lol

Song Inspiration for series: Victim of Love by The Eagles

And tell all your girlfriends

You been around the world friends That talk is for losers and fools

A/N: Posting this today because I told @kingliam2019 I would! 🤣Also, special shout out to the meme queen @karahalloway, you'll get it when you see it.

My other stuff: Master List.

“Sorry, but the top floor is reserved for the royal family. No one else is allowed up there.”

Drake didn’t even blink as his eyes scanned the rest of the guards stationed up and down the hallway. His face lit up as he waved and called out, “Bastien!”

“Drake!” The middle-aged man with greying hair and the physique of someone who still works out daily strode toward them with a wide smile. Pulling Drake into a hug, he asked, “Why haven’t you been to see me yet, son?”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he responded as he clapped the older man on the back with a sidelong glance at Riley, “Been…busy.”

Bastien looked over Drake’s shoulder as the embrace ended. He extended his hand, “And Lady Riley, how nice to see you again.”

“Bastien.” She returned the handshake.

“I suppose you’re here to support Liam. Well, come on,” he ushered them down the hallway and no one stopped him.

Bastien escorted them to a waiting area and then disappeared to let the king know they were there. Liam appeared a few minutes later, his eyes zeroing in on the woman in the room as if Drake wasn’t even there, “Riley!”

Liam moved quickly across the waiting room floor and into her arms. She returned the embrace, holding him tightly while he sobbed against her shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’m here,” she crooned as she patted his back, “How is she? How’s the baby?”

“They’re fine, for now,” he pulled back, wiping his eyes as he did so, “She had some bleeding, so her guards rushed her here.”

“Bleeding?” Riley’s voice rose in concern, “Why? From what?”

“The doctors said it’s something called placental previa, the placenta is basically too low.”

“Can they fix that?”

“No, but it often resolves on its own as the pregnancy progresses.”

“So we just have to what…wait?”

“Bed rest, no heavy lifting, no stress, things like that, and yes, wait.”

Riley jerked like she’d been hit. “No stress….” She spun away from him and stalked across the room to the row of windows overlooking the parking lot as guilt punched her in the gut.

She was stressful for Hana. Her mere presence, her relationship with Liam, their estranged friendship, all of it.

Liam started to go after her but was stopped midstride as Drake clapped him on the shoulder, “Hey, I’m sorry this is happening, but you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure she has a good outcome. You have all the resources in the world.”

Liam gave him a sad smile, “You’re right. She’ll have a full-time medical staff as well as a full-time wait staff, so she doesn’t have to lift a finger, she’ll be monitored constantly. I just…I feel so goddamned guilty!”

“You didn’t cause this.”

“No, but I haven’t helped the situation, have I?”

From across the room Riley listened as Drake comforted Liam. She knew Drake was right about everything, but she agreed with Liam. The situation between them had become untenable. She headed for the door, “Which room is she in?”

Liam looked startled, “Riley, I don’t think-“

“I promise I’m not going to stress her out, Liam. The opposite in fact. I have some things I need to say to her to repair a little of the damage we’ve done.”

“I don’t know…”

“Liam, please! She’s my best friend! If she gets upset in any way, I’ll leave immediately!”

Liam hesitated a moment then nodded. He opened the door to the hallway and gave instructions to a guard to escort Riley to the queen’s room.

The guard showed her to the room. She opened the door quietly and stepped inside.

Hana’s eyes widened, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, I can leave-“ Riley pointed back toward the door.

“No, wait! Don’t leave!”

She turned back to face her former best friend, “Yes?”

“You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was!” Riley walked across the room and dropped into the chair closest to the bed, “I know things have been….bad between us since you…since I….since everything with Liam, but deep down I still love you and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you or your baby!”

The baby whose existence had tormented her. Now she felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for her raging jealousy. It wasn’t the baby’s fault, and no one deserved to lose a child.

“I didn’t know you still cared,” Hana said so quietly Riley almost didn’t hear it.

“I told you I loved you, Hana, and I meant it. I just didn’t love you the way you needed me to, and I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry for continuing a relationship with him after he chose you.”

“I knew he was in love with you when I married him. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch about it.”

“You haven’t!”

Hana raised an eyebrow at her.

Riley laughed, “Okay, you have, but it’s been justified!”

“I should have told him no.”

“And done what? Gone back to Shanghai?”

“No,” she scoffed, “But maybe if he’d married Madeleine, you and I could have mended things with each other.”

“That’s a lovely thought. But he probably would have convinced me to stay no matter whom he had married.”

“Right. Because you love him.”

Riley shook her head, “I’m sorry, Hana. But I know what I have to do now. I promise I’m not going to be a problem for you anymore.”

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

“I have to leave…”

Hana lunged forward, “Riley, no…”

“Not forever, but long enough for you to recover. You need to be stress-free for the duration of this pregnancy. I’m sorry, Hana, for everything! I never should have stayed here in the first place, then maybe you and Liam could have had a real chance.”

“No, Riley, you were right, I married him to hurt you-“

“I hurt you first!”

“All you did was fall in love with someone else. You can’t control whom you love, Riley. I get that, especially now. If I could have controlled it, I would have just stopped loving you.”

“So, it’s true, you just said yes to me to hurt her.” a quiet voice said from the doorway.

“Liam!” Riley jumped, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m sorry,” Hana dropped her eyes ashamedly to her lap, “it’s true.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Liam took the chair on the other side of the hospital bed and pulled her hand to his mouth to kiss it, “I wasn’t in love with you either. And I’m sorry I wasn’t more up-front about my feelings and clearer about my intentions with both of you. I…I regret ruining your friendship. But I do love you now, Hana, you and our child! I will do whatever is necessary to ensure your health and safety! Both of you!”

Riley felt like a knife had just been plunged into her heart. Of course Liam had come to love Hana over time. Hana was extremely lovable. She was sweet, kind, caring, loving, and passionate, as well as intelligent and funny. All the qualities one could want in a partner really.

She fought back her tears and when she was able to speak without crying, she reiterated, “I’m going to remove myself from the equation so you can both focus on getting this baby here safely and on supporting each other.”

“What?” Liam’s head jerked up and he stared at her in horror.

Riley bit back her tears as she told him, “You know it’s for the best. Your focus should be here right now.”

“I…” his eyes dipped back to his wife before lifting back to Riley with resignation, “You’re right.”

“I know I am. I’m sorry again, Hana. For all of it.” She stood to leave.

“I’m sorry too, Riley. I’m sorry I let my hurt feelings go too far. I miss our friendship.”

Riley leaned over to hug her. “Maybe after this baby is born, we can work on repairing it?”

“I’d like that.”

They held each other for a long while, both women shaking with silent tears.

Riley pulled away and walked to the door. She stepped into the hallway and looked back. Just before the door closed, she caught Liam’s eye and mouthed, “I love you.” Then she turned and ran back to the waiting room, crashing into Drake’s arms.

#victim of love #angelasscribbles #trr au #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x riley #the royal romance #trr #the royal romance fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices #liam rys

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coelacat · 28 days

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I am very intrigued by adam harding and stu sullivan please share a crumb of their lore🙏

hehe hi 👋

okay okay ill finally gush abt them

also i should warn that some fucked shit!! happens to these characters. dont read my lore about them if abuse/rape/substance abuse/bigotry isnt stuff you wanna see. anything under the cut is just a brief mention, but its there

so most of my ocs (the guys with relatively normal names, anyone named like. blade or some fantasy name ignore them for now) are a set of young adults in the 80s in small town midwest USA (some town in iowa, probably) (if any of this sounds familiar to anyone keep it to urself :)). i wanna cover their struggles with highschool, struggling with transitional periods, and then growing into adulthood. im debating if i wanna add and supernatural/scifi elements of have it focus on their relationships and internal struggles mostly, but those are minor details for later on down the road

adam!! hes like. My Main Guy. the one i ended up making this whole lil universe for. bold that i created all of this for him basically and i still named him after adam from the bible, yet it gives me a complex i deeply enjoy so i do it anyway. i am a god who created the world for man, not man for the world.

most of these characters play off 80s media stereotypes and expand on them, and i think adam is like. the most blatant example of this. you know that movie from the 80s-90s you last watched that had a misogynistic metalhead who pulled chicks because he viewed them as objects to win, loved his car, and was angry and violent most of the time, while people who were scared of him vaguely assumed he was satanic in some way? thats adam harding. bleached blonde hair done in a perm mullet, a shitty stache hes convinced makes him look mature, sad brown eyes, leather jackets, and steel toed boots, with tattoos to really top it all off.

semi repressed devout christian faggot who struggles with his own sexuality and identity. hes got daddy issues AND mommy issues (though his mommy issues are much more prominent) and an abusive and neglectful home life, he has to adapt to having a sister after being an only child his whole life, and he has to adjust to a move half way across the country, from southern california to the middle of nowhere hick iowa. as a result, hes quick to anger, never lets his guard down unless around other queers, but ultimately he wants to be good. he was told to be good by his mother, its been ingrained in him from a young age to be nice and do good things. its just unfortunate that his environment allows for that as little as possible. when he has the patience and energy, hes often a lot gentler, but its rare for him to not be running on fumes and a bit of nicotine.

his hobbies include chasing milfs and cougars, working on his car, working out, surfing, blaring Dio as loud as humanly possible, chainsmoking, basketball and wrestling. keep those last two in mind.

on the other hand, stewie "stu" sullivan is the star example of what a highschool student should be. athletically, hes the top of the school, hes got pretty hair and a handsome face, a kind of preppy style, and girls go wild over him. soft brunet hair, sweet freckles occasionally dotting his skin, and lovesick hazel eyes. hes even a total sweetheart who usually treats his girlfriends really well. his only downsides are his mild stupidity, petty mean streak, his shitty guard dog entourage, and his twin brother, kurtis.

stu comes from an upper middle class home, and hes got high expectations set on him. hes consistently been great on whatever local sports team hes been a part of, and the success of his whole future rests on his shoulders to continue doing well. he'll have a free ticket to college, if only he can stay the top of his school, athletically. in terms of popularity, hes pretty slow to give up that as well.

you can probably guess that having the constant pressure to be perfect from his parents creates a lot of friction, however, hes always been seen as the "good" of the two twins. he cant really rebel in any meaningful way, as the expectations placed on him keep him locked in place of being well mannered with adults. towards other students, however, stu will happily pick some fights to blow off steam. its usually with the teens that dont fight back, of course, and its usually only a couple petty insults and a half hearted shove. one affected girl thought that she mightve seen remorse in his expression when he walked away. she was written off as being down bad for him.

oh, right. remember those hobbies of adams i asked you to keep in mind? basketball and wrestling?

yeag .... that might be because stu is the top of the team for wrestling and basketball, and is constantly regarded as the schools mvp.

you can imagine how easily theyd hate each other. theyre both hormonal teenagers who are angry all the time and feel insanely guilty about being angry so they only get angrier and now theyre both challenging each others masculinity. adam very quickly comes for the top spot in the sports stu is good at, so they end up beefing with each other fast and hard. its a constant cock measuring contest with them, and they frequently bloody each others noses.

this sorta fued carries on, and they make no real progress with each other for like 6 months, until adam meets eve, a mysterious newcomer to the town who refuses to say much about herself. shes very obviously queer, and he latches onto her almost immediately as a result of that, and verious other reasons. eventually, eve will coax out adams queerness and he'll be a little more comfortable with himself and end up realizing "fuckkkkkj dude ive got a crush on that prettyboy whos blood ive tasted!!". stu will eventually be coaxed into realizing himself and fixing some of his issues as well as they get older, though all that stuff is a lot more vague in my mind at the moment.

the post i rbed from you tagging as them, id imagine is after adam meets eve, and starts spreading his faggot agenda to stu, but before either of them are fully comfortable with the fact that theyre into men.

stu will eventually have some gender fuckery going on too, but like. thats complicated and i wanna wait and explore that once i have a more comfortable grasp on his character.

if you want a voice claim for adam, i particularly like Randy from Idle Hands (1999) for him? i still gotta nail down voice claims for most other characters though. sorry that adams my favorite

#oc: adam harding #oc: stu sullivan #theres still a lot of work to be done on my ocs #any of this is subject to change at literally any moment and stu's character is VERY heavily a wip #way more than adams #feel free to dm me or send more asks if you wanna know more!! theres plenty ive left out of this post just for times sake #i could go on for hours about my ideas for all these guys #a little misc detail i think you personally would enjoy about stu #is hes got that 80s movie popular boy pet jock that he keeps around #whos just there to suck his dick basically #his name is tommy :)

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kookieswan · 2 years

Text

Red Light - Further

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 500+

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, Angsty???

Warnings: Mentions of self inflicted bodily harm, mentions of violence and blood. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: Further into the madness.

Notes: A fun little snippet from the point of view of our special winged Nightmare. It’s a little different, but also insightful!

This a snippet from the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sink in, further, further…

-hurts and yet I can’t bring myself to care. If I ripped away my skin, would I care then? Would I be able to panic or would I just sit there… Small injuries don’t matter but what if-

“Don’t.”

“You know it’s not nice to dig around in my head Hoseok. Don’t you find it rude? I certainly do.”

“Not really considering that you’re thinking about tearing your skin off like paper as a pastime. Quit it.”

Further.

-kookie looks sad today, I don’t like that no no no. Once I find out who’s been bothering him I’ll erase them from his world. Take their disgusting existence and turn it into a pretty picture for him to hang on his wall as a trophy. Such a pretty trophy.

Very dependent. His downfall… My downfall? No, perhaps not…

-uch a sap, can’t believe I have to listen to him complain. He acts like a hardass but he’s got to be madly in love with that man. I suppose I shouldn’t judge though, I know the feel-

Mmmh, feel bad for them, we would all thrive out there.. Further.

-gly fucks thinking they can touch me. They’ll fucking regret it, just wait till I shred them to pieces in the middle of my act. Tear every limb off slowly, rip their throats out with my teeth, crush their fucking-

Touchy. Angry. Insightful… Need to learn more. Further.

-1313 initially showed major signs of hostility, but has since calmed quite a bit. It’s a wonder… Something must have changed. Perhaps something _____ said to him? She may be annoying but she gets results.

Ungrateful waste of space.

-useless. She helps the freaks but does nothing else to contribute to the environment down here. No helping with tests, questioning our ethics at every corner. Someone needs to do something about-

It would be easy to end his miserable life.

-fire her. Maybe I could set her up… Who would believe such a silly woman over me anyway? She dresses like a skank and probably fucks around with some of the higher ups to keep her jo-

Killhimkillhimkill-…. _____?

-mmh, I should shake things up a little bit with the sessions… So far things have been great but maybe more interactions would be beneficial to the boys… More food? Pie this time? Or something else super sweet for the-

Don’t let it fester. Breath. Breath. Listen.

-should meet with Hoseok again soon… I miss him, but being obvious about it isn’t the greatest idea. I’ll think of an excuse, I always do. Those assholes don’t even know left from right half the time… Group therapy?

Inhale, inhale… Exhale, exhale…

… Hoseok, are you listening in? I’m never sure if you are, if you can, what the limits are… Maybe I’m just taking to myself. But I’m going to do my best to protect all of you, even if you think you should be protecting me. Trust in me like I’ve trusted in you, okay?

… Okay, my dearest heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @parkdatjimin @sugarflywme @pamzn @mizz-kraziii @hiii-priestess @winkii @noonas-magicshop @xuxibelle @lookhere-2seok @m1sss1mp

If you wanna be tagged leave a comment or ask! My only rule is that you have your age (18+!) displayed somewhere on your blog! ♥️

#red light ♥️#hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts horror au #bts monster au #bts

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azaarchiive · 5 months

Text

holiday girlfriend; semi eita

chapter five

pie

note: sos not proofread and tumblr isn’t letting me put my barriers to you get large spaces instead

“y/n, wake up quick, it’s an emergency!” you heard semi say which woke you up immediately.

frantically, you search for his figure which, luckily, was standing right next to your sleeping figure. a crazed expression worn on his soft face.

“what’s going on?!” you quickly questioned, rubbing your eyes to unblur your vision.

“we have a day full of activities and you are just sleeping!” semi suddenly smiled as he sat down on the bed.

you looked at him in disbelief before you sighed, trying to compose yourself.

“you woke me up making me think there was an emergency when all you wanted to do was go out?” you spoke slowly, looking at semi straight in the eyes in shock.

“um, yes?” semi tentatively spoke.

“stress isn’t good for the baby you stupid- ugh!” you hit his figure after every word, making sure to land a hard one after your last word.

“ow! ok-fuck sorry! damn girl, you heavy handed.” semi pouted as he rubbed the areas in which you were particularly rough with.

“anyways, i thought i should be a nice husband-“

“don’t push your luck.”

“and treat you as you will only be here for about, 5 days before leaving.” semi stated.

“5 days?! you just couldn’t wait to book the tickets, couldn’t you?” you chuckled.

you wanted to say you were sad about leaving (country) and, to some extent, you were. you had an emotional connection to the place you were raised and born in. but, you really had nothing to stay for. no friends, no family and not really a job, so in reality you were quite excited for this move. just not that excited that it was with him.

“of course! so for five days i’ve book endless activities to do here as your way to say goodbye.” semi smiled.

“oh fuck no, i’m tired as shit and all the things here are so boring!” you groaned, pulling the covers closer to your body.

“to you! all the things here are so fun, like traditional dancing, pottery, jewellery making and so much more!” semi explained, the excitement oozing from his tone. you found it very cute.

damn semi and his angelic voice.

“ugh, well, since i know you aren’t going to drop this anytime soon, fine. but just letting you know that you are going to be so embarrassed when we are the only people there.” you rolled your eyes are you started getting up.

“trust me, we won’t” semi chuckled and he helped up from bed.

“oh yeah, i forgot the aunties will be raving the place, ready to judge me for being pregnant before marriage.” you sighed as you sluggishly dragged your feet to your bathroom.

“i wouldn’t be so sure about that”

“welcome to couple baking!” a middle-aged woman announced in english. normally foreigners book this activity so they speak in english as natives are expected to graduate being fluent in english anyways.

“you booked us for couples baking?” you whisper-yelled, now understanding why semi insisted on you two both wearing matching rings.

“well the requirements were that we were married so…” semi whispered back, smiling sheepishly as you glared at him.

“and you didn’t think that maybe you should just find one that allowed friends to do one together?” you raised your eyebrow.

“her credentials are very good! did you know she privately worked for the government?” semi argued back.

“god you’re pretentious.” you sighed before facing the lady leading the session.

“i think everyone’s ready, let’s get started!” the lady announced before rolling her sleeves and getting infront of her station.

“to start with, quickly name each other 1 and 2.” the lady instructed.

“i’ll be number 1, per usual.” semi smirked.

“ok mr man.” you chuckled.

“now, partner 1, go into the top left drawer under your station.”

semi pulled out the drawer and only saw a sleeping mask.

“oh, didn’t know it was this kind of baking. kinda defeats the purpose when you already put something in the oven!” semi shouted out, eliciting laughter out of everyone there while you looked down in embarrassment.

“what is actually wrong with you?” you took a deep breath.

“oh come on, it was funny!” semi laughed.

“i want a divorce.” you groaned.

“now, partner 1, put the blindfold on while partner 2 puts out all the ingredients.” the lady further explained.

“oo! it’s gonna be those blindfold challenges coupled do!” semi excitedly said while putting his blindfold on

“shut up.” you commented.

“not needed but anything for my beautiful wife!” semi grinned, now completely blindfolded.

“die.” you commented once again.

“you always had such a way with words!” semi gushed.

“eggs eita, i said eggs!” you yelled at him.

“well i can’t fucking see the eggs so excuse me if i can’t put them in on the first try, y/n!”

“then try harder!” you huffed, looking at the next step in the sheet given.

“ok it says to add 3 cups of flour.” you read out.

“the fucks a cup of flour?” semi asked.

“i forgot japan has a completely different measuring, i think it’s called 3 shou?” you reluctantly replied.

“aw you’re learning!” semi smiled as he added 7 1/2 literal drinking cups into the batch.

“woah what the fuck? one, why are you using literal drinking cups? two, why are you adding 7 1/2 fucking cups of flour?” you frantically questioned as you paused semi’s movements.

“honey, 1 shou is 2 1/2 drinking cups…? wherever you’ve been learning japanese, needs to refund you your money” semi chuckled as you started scooping out the ridiculous amount of flour he used.

“oh stuff it, i’m trying! plus why didn’t you realise that i said 7 1/2 glasses when before i literally said 3 cups?” you sighed before giggling.

“english isn’t my first language you racist, don’t expect me to know everything im just a singer.” semi pouted.

“there is no way you’re accusing me of racism when you live in japan.” you said dumbfoundedly.

“what’s that supposed to mean?!” semi scoffed.

“no offence, japan is amazing, but you don’t think that its treatment towards anyone that isn’t a japanese fair-skinned man isn’t offensive?”

“of course i do. it’s not perfect for sure but it’s home. and i love my home, despite its weird tendencies.” semi spoke fondly.

“i guess, but how will it be like when i come there? will i ever be able to call it home? or even survive there as the semi eita’s baby mama?” you softly spoke.

“yes, because i swear to do everything in my power to make sure you will never be effected by things like that. i get it, it’s hard trust me. and in not expecting you to adjust immediately, all i want is you attempting to, which i know you will. you always do, youre resilient as fuck, it’s one of the reasons why you run through my mind all day.” semi lifted his blindfold up to look into your eyes.

you smiled, finally feeling like maybe, just maybe, you could handle being with semi.

“as well as the fact that you are amazing at riding me.” semi chuckled whilst putting his blindfold back on.

your smile dropped immediately.

“i will shove raw eggs down your throat.” you threatened.

“food play? it was on my list but never expected you to be into it.” semi smirked.

never mind, you forget semi eita is the biggest pain in the ass you’ve ever met.

“partner 1, lift up your blindfold and look at your creations!”

semi lifted up his blindfold, only to see a half cooked, dented and moist apple pie. to say he was disappointed was an understatement.

“oh wow.” he muttered as he observed the nature of the pie, his it wobbled as every shake and how you could practically smell the salmonella.

“i know, it’s beautiful.” you joked, pulling your phone out to take a picture of the monstrosity you both made.

“wait lemme get in it!” semi called out before bending down to get in the frame as he beamed out a bright smile, attempting to hide his laughter.

you took the picture, in fact you took many and god was he fucking photogenic. his messy and disheveled demeanour only added to the appeal. you couldn’t tell if it was the hormones talking or not but you could definitely take him on the table and fuck jim right there.

“let’s get one together.” he suggested, taking the phone out of your hands as he pulled you next to him. he swung his arm across your shoulders as you both smiled, acting as though this pie was the best creation you both have made.

“wow, i’m so handsome.” semi sighed softly as he looked through the pictures he took.

“alright mr egotistical, let’s throw this and take our leave.” you laughed, snatching your phone away as he picked the pie and threw it.

“yes mama” he replied as he dusted his hands off and took his belongings.

#authors #haikyuu #black reader #haikyuu semi #haikyuu x black reader #haikyuu x you #pregnancy #semi eita #semi eita x reader #hq x reader

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comfy-whumpee · 1 year

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The First Bird 1

In which Avis meets Paris. CN: BBU, religion.

@neuro-whump, @rosesareviolentlyread, @whumper-in-training, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpsday, @firewheeesky, @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

It was the fifth or sixth shelter she had visited, depending on if she counted the halfway house with the disproportionate number of polite twentysomethings who had collar scars. It was a neat little house in suburbia with perfect picket fencing and a prominent cross hung above the entryway, that came into view when they opened the door to her.

She was greeted by a later middle-aged man with hair both balding and greying. He had a warm smile and a soft voice. "Mrs Jacobitz," he assumed, and she nodded. She didn't correct him. "I'm Ray. Come on in."

She stepped inside, quelling the instinct to remove her shoes. The hall led straight through to a living room and open-plan kitchen, with a doorway to the left that declared itself Ray's Room by means of a small wooden sign. There was a patter of footsteps upstairs as Ray closed the front door.

"Welcome to our little home," he said. It was twice the size of a little home by UK standards, she thought, but only smiled. "I hear you're opening a shelter of your own in your home country. I'm glad to give you some insight and advice, in return for a hand around the house."

Avis set her backpack down at the end of one sofa. She was exhausted from travelling, sleeping in hostels and meeting people. But she hadn't yet found someone with the answers. "I'd like nothing more," she told him firmly.

"Wonderful. Let me take you over our ground rules, first of all…"

It was straightforward stuff. Ray outlined appropriate boundaries to enforce, language to avoid using and behaviours that could be seen as threatening. He explained their daily routine of meals, communal learning, housekeeping and prayer. As he was discussing the safety measures they needed from her, most of which she had heard already, there were light footsteps on the stairs and he paused, head turning. Avis looked too.

The rescue was tall and thin, with loose, glossy waves of brown hair and a delicate, extraordinarily pretty face. They were wearing an incongruously plain sweatshirt and baggy shorts, obviously hand-me-downs from the shelter's limited budget. They seemed to look in Avis and Ray's direction without seeing them, gazing distantly far away. She'd guess that they were partially sighted, except she knew rescues were meant to have full health checks on arrival. Maybe it was a way of coping with the world, to never quite take it in.

"Pastor Ray?" they asked, as if to check he was there.

Ray's tone stayed soft and kind. "What is it, Paris?"

"I remembered we have a visitor today. Is this the visitor?"

"That's right. This is Mrs Jacobitz. She'll be helping us out for a few days."

The hazy eyes touched on her for a moment, but nowhere near her face. Avis felt like she was interacting with a creature from another planet, or possibly a fairy tale. "You have pink hair, Mrs Jacobitz."

"That's right," she agreed automatically. It was an awkward thing to leave it on, so she added more. "I used to have brown hair like yours, but I started going grey, so I thought a bright colour would cheer me up."

"That's nice," Paris said. "Going grey would make me sad too."

"I'll have to dye my hair pink too, then," Ray joked gently.

Paris smiled vaguely, as if they hadn't understood the joke but recognised it was one. Still without looking straight at either of them, they drifted away with meandering steps into the living room, where they curled up on the sofa and turned on the small TV.

Ray smiled at Avis reassuringly. "Paris is new here and still settling in." Translation, Avis thought: Ray didn't know what to do with them yet, but he was doing what he could.

"Do I need to know anything about them? Or the others? I know the general rules, like about contact and boundaries, the r-word, conditioned responses and stuff."

Ray smiled ruefully. "Yes, those apply here. Paris is a special case though. They're a Romantic."

Avis thought back to the model-perfect features and the ill-fitting clothes. Oh, lord.

"Have you met one before? I expect you haven't. They don't usually…settle."

"I haven't, no." She took a breath, and consciously turned her thoughts to sympathy. Beyond the cruelties of the pet-indoctrination process, Paris must have been through so much to harm their sense of personal safety.

"Well, I hope I don't need to tell you that any inappropriate contact with Paris will force me to ask you to leave. This includes if they initiate it, and they are likely to. Forgive my bluntness, but Romantic pets are habitually…indecent. They can't help themselves."

That sounded awful. Avis couldn't imagine grasping at that kind of behaviour for safety's sake. But all pet behaviours, even those that seemed off-putting, were to feel safe. That was all they wanted.

"I'll be clear and careful," she told Ray with a frown. "Are they the only Romantic here?"

"Yes, they are. We have wo domestics, Kellam and Dinah. You probably won't see Kellam, but Dinah will come down and make herself food when she wants some. We also have a Platonic pair, you'll know them when you see them. They haven't chosen names yet, so we tend to call them James and John. They won't talk to you, don't take it personally. Then our oldest rescue is Bryony, she's out at the moment getting groceries." He smiled at her raised brows. "Bryony is a superstar. You'll be just as much bossed around by her as me. She decided to stay here and help others."

"That's wonderful. I'll look forward to meeting them all, and I won't take offence if they're unsure about me to start with. That's understandable." She sat back on her stool, looking around the spotless kitchen. "So, what can I do?"

After a day of gutter cleaning and gardening, Avis was delighted to come back inside to the smell of herbs and tomato, and arriving in the kitchen, she saw a tall and beautiful young lady with a little apron around her narrow waist. Mindful of not startling ex-pets, Avis stool back across the room, in the other doorway, before she interrupted. "Hi."

The woman turned and her eyes widened in a moment of surprise, before she relaxed. "Oh, pink hair. You must be Mrs Jacobitz."

"I am. You're Dinah or Bryony, I'm guessing?"

"Bryony." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. It wasn't a pet's smile, but a proper one, wrinkling her nose slightly. "You've been in the garden?"

"Ray's orders." Avis looked over as another figure appeared in the doorway. "Hello again, Paris."

Paris kept their eyes on the floor and acknowledged her with only a faint hum. They were holding a plastic cup between their hands. Now that they were closer, Avis could see that Paris wore a full face of makeup. It made a strange contrast with their baggy clothes.

Through the back door, a breeze blew a chill into the room. Avis looked back at Bryony, who had turned back to the stove and was stirring in a pan. Paris stood for a moment longer behind Avis, and then suddenly darted across the room to the sink and refilled their water. They were gone again a moment later, bare feet soundless across the floor.

Avis watched it with bemusement. She wondered if that was one of those traumatised behaviours that passed by without explanation, or if Bryony was the kind to explain and excuse. If Paris was uncomfortable because of Avis, that would be important to know.

"Ignore them," Bryony said. She took a teaspoon from a drawer and tasted the soup. "They're always like that. Romantics."

"…I haven't met one before," Avis said slowly.

"They're trained to be loyal. More loyal than any of us. They're trained not to associate."

Her heart sinking, Avis simply nodded. What an awful way to feel.

She learned soon after that Florence didn't eat with them either, but sat alone in their bedroom. Ray portioned out a bowl and some bread for them, and was about to start saying grace when Avis, with a flash of inspiration, offered to take it up.

"Last door on the right before the bathroom. Be careful," he warned them, presumably because they were entering proximity with both Paris and their bed.

Climbing the stairs opened up the remaining rooms of the house. There were six doors, all but one closed, the open one offering a glimpse of a tiled bathroom. On the left of the stairs, two closed doors, and opposite, one ajar with a sign saying Bryony's Room on it. Two more closed doors, one with soft TV playing from behind it, that was presumably the elusive Kellam.

Avis went to the door Ray had told them and knocked. "Paris? It's Avis with your dinner."

There was a long pause. Avis listened hard, but couldn't hear a thing before the door opened and wide eyes stared out. They moved from her pink hair to the plate in her hand. Then they stepped back.

Avis followed, and spotted the small table at the window quickly. She set the food down, and then glanced around. The room Paris used was plain, undecorated by anything but a large poster of some nature photograph. There were storage boxes stacked in one corner, but looking at their clear lids, they didn't seem to have things for Paris in them, just general household clutter. They did have a dressing gown and a pair of slippers, a laundry hamper, a table cluttered with beauty products, and a narrow single bed. It wasn't sparse, just…impersonal.

That was running a shelter on a budget, she supposed. Second hand and generic.

Paris was watching her looking, so she stopped, not wanting to be rude. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked, feeling oddly like a waitress. "Do you have a drink up here?"

They blinked owlishly at her. "What drink pairs with tomato soup?"

Avis was momentarily tongue-tied. She didn't know the first thing about wine. "Uh, I guess water goes with everything?"

Paris apparently did not see the joke. "Okay."

Better than nothing, she guessed, and headed down for a glass. She ignored the looks of surprise she got when she took it up again.

When she returned to Paris's room, they looked at the drink with surprise. "It's not a plastic cup."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want it to be?"

"No. But I knock things over sometimes, so Bryony says I have to have a plastic cup."

"I can get you one, if you want."

Those eyes turned in her direction again. It was as if Paris was thinking aloud about her, not talking to her, and was always surprised that she answered. "I'm fine. I won't knock it over." They looked at the bowl. "I can be elegant and poised. I can be irresistible too. That's what Sir said."

Avis buried her initial shuddering response and tried to keep relaxed. "I see. Irresistible to whom?"

"Anyone I put my wiles to," Paris said. They delivered the words in the same way they looked at her, as though they weren't fully there. "I'm more beautiful than anyone has a right to be, and I'm impossible to pull away from."

The simple, complete conviction in those words made Avis's stomach turn. There was no trace of ego from Paris in those words. They were taught by the man who had bought them, so that he could be reassured how valuable his purchase was.

"That sounds like a hard way to be," she said, feeling like she couldn't just say nothing to a statement like that. She had to offer Paris something helpful. "I wouldn't like to be irresistible. It would be too much work to make people leave me alone."

"I don't like being alone," Paris replied in their lateral way.

Avis frowned. "If you don't mind telling me, why do you eat dinner alone then?"

"I don't mind telling you. It's because I'm a Romantic. The others are uncomfortable around me."

"Oh, that's a shame. I don't feel that way." It was painfully easy, when standing face to face with them, to see how Paris carried their past with them. She hesitated, imagining what Ray would think, before she offered, "Would you like it if I ate my dinner here too?"

Paris smiled. It was, Avis knew, the trained smile of a pet. But perhaps their choice to make the expression meant something of its own. "Yes, I would like that."

#baby paris time! not literally #the birdhouse #bbu #whump #my fic #flawed caretaker #avis #florence

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silmforrookies · 1 year

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Chapter III. Of the Beginning of Days, or the Valar Are Making Me Feel

Well, fellas, congratulations! We are now officialy done with Ainulindalë & Valaquenta and are diving right into the main course, Quenta Silmarillion - or the History of Silmarils. Prepare your swords, napkins, and whatever else should you need on your endeavour.

It's an old song! It's an old song from way back when; it's an old song, but we're gonna sing it again! It's a sad song; it's a sad tale, it's a tragedy! It's a sad song, but we sing it anyway... (©Hadestown)

The first chapter of the Quenta Silmarillion is called "Of the Beginning of Days". In short:

Sigh. Alright. Let's see what we could have and what Melkor made us loose.

The chapter starts with what we already learned: that Melkor and Valar were at war, and that the Valar were losing drastically. Melkor was dominating Arda, and most of its land were under his power; of course, the Valar couldn't shape the world as intended in those anti-creative circumstances and were slowly starting to despair. However...

In a small hole in the wast fabric in the Universe, just under Eru's throne, lived Tulkas. And Tulkas looked down at the Little Kingdom of Arda, and saw Melkor, and said: "Nice little dominion of darkness you have over there. Would be a shame if something... happened to it"

(Quenta Silmarillion, Tulkas, sometime before the Age of Lamps, probably)

Tulkas spared a glance towards Arda, saw that things were not looking great for his buddy Manwë, and decided to single-handedly turn the tide of the war. What a fella. What a pal. What a chad. Seriously, get yourself a friend like Tulkas, you won't regret it.

Anyways, the second Tulkas stepped into Arda, Melkor had no choice but to turn and run. Tulkas' laughter was like a wind that cleared everything dark from its way, and his face didn't promise nothing but a good old ass-whooping. Melkor was so scared of Tulkas he didn't just run away - he abandoned Arda completely. All hail Tulkas. All hail my man.

So, Tulkas was busy searching for Melkor (I expected a good fight, man, come on), Melkor was busy sulking in the Outer Darkness (space?) and being number one Tulkas hater, and Valar were just happy that they finally, finally were able to create, unbothered by any abomination of anger, hate and envy. They happily accepted Tulkas into their ranks and got right to work.

Of course, they had to deal with the hell of a mess left after Melkor. They fixed lands and oceans, moved mountains, stabilized volcanoes and so on. Then, Yavanna could finally bring to life her most sacred project: plants. Well, not then exactly - plants need light to grow, after all; so the Valar came together and created two lights, two magnificent Lamps - Illuin and Ormal. They placed Illuin in the North of Middle-Earth, and Ormal - on the South; they were the work of Aulë and Varda, blessed by Manwë, and loved by all. And when the light of the two Lamps filled Arda, seeds that Yavanna planted started sprouting. Multiple mosses, grasses, bushes, trees - it all came to life, and the most beautiful they were in the middle of Arda, where the light of two Lamps mingled - and the Valar decided to live there. That time is called the Spring of Arda.

Those were happy times, and the Valar finally thought they could rest. Their home was an isle in the middle of a Great Lake, named Almaren; and Manwë called all the Valar and all of their servants to a grand feast, to celebrate their work and their victory. Tulkas wedded Nessa, Oromë's sister; and she danced before the Valar, and they were merry, and they all lived happily ever after...

... is what would I say if it wasn't for our good old friend, Melkor, Moringotto, the Dark Foe of the World. Who was sulking in the Outer Darkness. Or so we thought.

In reality, Melkor was busy recruiting spies and gathering intel, because Melkor can't simply let people be happy - he's just silly like that. It came to his knowledge that Ainur were planning a grand feast, and that Tulkas and Aulë would be tired as hell (because they, unlike someone, were busy helping others) - and he decided that there would be no better day to attack and to destroy the Valar once and for all.

So he started preparing for a new war - and his first step was to build an indestructible underground fortress, Utumno. His presence was so vile that Arda started marring - the plants started vaning, swamps - appearing, animals in the forests became ugly dangerous abominations who were out for blood. And the Valar, looking at this, knew that Melkor was back, and that they should brace for an attack.

Melkor striked faster than they could manage to do so. He destroyed the Lamps, and the places where they stood turned into oceans, and underground fire came forward, devouring Arda - that great was their fall.

Melkor fled - he achieved a victory, but was still too much of a coward to face Tulkas or Manwë; so he ran away and hid deep in Utumno, confident in its durability.

Valar were too busy preventing multiple major apocalypses to chase him or to vage a full-scale war; the balance of lands and waters was ruined, plants were dead, and the Lights - gone. Their home in Almaren was destroyed; everything they worked so hard on was wiped away by Melkor's sick whim, and they, yet again, had to start over.

They traveled to Aman, the most western land of Middle-Earth. Since Melkor was back to Arda, and they couldn't defeat him, they decided to fortify their positions; they surrounded Aman with Pelóri, Mountains of Aman, the greatest mountains in all world. Its highest peak, Taniquetil, is where Manwë and Varda reside. Behind Pelori, the Valar founded Valinor - their secure kingdom. It was a collection of most fair and beautiful things in Arda, its most wonderful place; so they built their palaces there, and founded a first city - Valimar, the City of Thousands Bells.

Near Valimar, there was a hill called Ezellogar; and one day, Yavanna came there, and sang. She was sitting there for a long time, singing and singing about plants, about her creations; and Nienna was crying, silently watering the ground with her tears, and the other Valar were listening.

Then, two sprouts came to being.

It is told that no sound was heard during that time - only Yavanna's song. Those two sprouts, fuelled by her voice and will, started growing - higher and higher, mightier and mightier; until they became two Trees, the greatest Trees ever created - Laurelin and Telperion.

Telperion's leaves were dark green, and they were glowing with silver, and from them the silver dew was ever falling; Laurelin's were bright, glimmering with gold, and her branches ended with golden flowers, glowing with yellow flame and spilling yellow rain, and they produced light and warmth. Those were the great Trees of Valinor, Yavanna's most magnificent creation, catalysts of Arda's history - in life and death.

Each Tree would glow for seven hours, and each would start glowing an hour before the other would start fading; so twice a day the Lights would mingle. A day in Valinor was twelve hours long.

Alright! Back to Earth. Let me remind you, Melkor is still roaming Arda, and Valar aren't fans of Melkor roaming Arda, though they can't do much about it.

Aulë's palaces were in the middle of Valinor, and he started creating metals, minerals, etc. He is called the friend of Noldor, for he was the one who taught them crafts.

Manwë, however, dwells on Taniquetil, and his thoughts are always with Middle-Earth. He established the first news agency - he gets his own newspaper in form of spirits who look like birds and travel back and forth, from Valinor to Middle-Earth. His favourites are Vanyar: he loves their poems.

Ulmo ditched Valinor and lives in the ocean, where he governs the waters. He thinks of his own music, great and terrible, and it echoes theough the whole world. His faves are Teleri, though he's also the only one to regularly check on those who live in Middle-Earth, as we learned already.

Wait.

Is it just me, or...

... AS I WAS SAYING, the next one is Yavanna, who left most of her work in Middle-Earth, and who would visit it sometimes to heal the wounds Melkor did; every time she would return, she would claim they needed to finally defeat him, until the Children of Ilùvatar come. With her, Middle-Earth was often visited by Oromë; he would hunt the dark servants of Melkor, and they would scatter from him, but come together once he would leave.

This was the state of Arda as it awaited Elves and Men. None of the Ainur knew when will they arrive, for Eru kept it secret. Similarly, only he knew the difference between them.

Elves were to be fair and wise, skilled in all arts and crafts, immortal and untouched by age or illness; their fates, however, would be forever bound to Arda, similar to Ainur, and if they die, they would heal in the Halls of Mandos and live again. Sorry, elves. No escaping the narrative for you.

Men, however, had the opposite gift - Death. Their days in Arda were limited, and their souls would long to go away from the Circles of the World. They were short-lived, but it was them who would finish the world the Ainur started, and it was them who would sing in the Second Song of the Ainur.

The tragedy of it all was, death was meant as blessing; as libertation, as a way to new possibilities; Melkor, however, in his hatred made humans fear it, and made it associated with him instead of Eru. This is why some claim Men are Melkor's servants, though he hated humans greatly.

However, let's leave the Children of Ilùvatar for another occasion. Let's relax in the Bliss of Days, and lets not think of all the upcoming tragedies.

taglist: @none-ofthisnonsense

#alrigh. i admit. two chapters a week is an overkill i will burn out in five days.#silmarillion #tolkien #valar #melkor #hope you enjoyed :)#honestly Why are the chapters so long

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