#preserve your fic! it's precious! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aemonds-sapphire · 2 years

Text

Punishment

Summary: Ser Erryk makes the mistake of looking for too long at you and Aemond makes sure he pays for it.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Jealous/Possessive Aemond. Exhibitionism. “Just the tip”. Dry humping. Creampie.

A/N: If you recognise this is because it’s a rework of a short fic I posted a few days ago. I added a smut scene and some other minor changes. Hope you like it!

A/N2: Can be read as part 2 of “Precious Stones”, but also as a stand-alone.

Word count: 2.5k

“Ask Ser Erryk if he wishes to preserve all his limbs intact.”

“My prince?”

“You heard what I said, Cole.”

To anyone unaware of what had provoked such serious solicitation, it would seem that Prince Aemond was merely poking fun.

But Aemond does not fool around when it comes to what belongs to him.

You swallowed your wine quietly, crossing eyes with Ser Erryk Cargyll whose stare was bold enough to have your heart clench.

And it was not because you welcomed the daring attention, but because you knew Aemond wouldn’t.

Aemond Targaryen had made his claim, and anyone who dared defy him would face the consequences.

You watched as Ser Criston Cole walked towards Ser Erryk to deliver the prince’s message.

His reaction was appalling.

The young member of the Kingsguard, entrusted with protecting Prince Aegon, decided that scoffing and chuckling was an appropriate way to respond to Aemond.

How wrong he was.

Sitting beside you, Aemond shifted in his seat, eye fixed on the man in front of him. “What is so amusing, Ser Erryk?”

You thanked the Gods that the king and queen were absent from supper, but you weren’t as fortunate when it came to Aegon.

“Oh, this ought to be good,” said the young prince, relishing in the eminent conflict.

Ser Erryk dropped his smile at once. “Nothing, my prince.”

“So you laugh at nothing? That is… concerning.”

Aemond was an expert where taunting others was concerned. He would know just what to say and how to say it, in order to set anyone off, ultimately prevailing as his skill with sword matched his words.

The silence was so thick you could hear the flames flickering on the candlesticks and the wind wailing angrily outside.

“Aemond…” you began, placing one hand on his thigh.

“Give me one reason not to behead you.”

Ser Criston Cole was tense through and through. “Prince Aemond, what happ—”

“Now why would you behead Ser Erryk, dear brother?” Aegon spoke, visibly amused. “Is my safety of no concern to you?”

Oh Gods…

Helaena would have no part in this, and simply kept to herself, lowered gaze and focused on downing the food in her plate.

“Stay out of this,” Aemond said calmly, his eye never leaving Ser Erryk.

A wise person would have followed this warning, but Aegon was not wise. In fact, he was a fool who thought himself to be wise. And there was no bigger foolery.

“I shall not,” Aegon voiced his indignation. “What is his crime, brother? Staring at her?”

Cold sweat ran down the back of your neck as you felt his eyes on you.

“Prince Aemond, I meant no disrespect,” Ser Erryk said as dutifully as possible given the current situation. “I apologise.”

Aemond gripped your hand tightly. Even though he excelled at keeping his composure, he had difficulty reining in his feelings when it came to those he cared about.

Aegon huffed in annoyance, twirling the fork in between his fingers. “Ruining our meal over some wench… I mean, really, Aemond…”

At this, your lover rose to his feet, banging his fist on the wooden table, nearly spilling the glasses of wine in the process.

But his anger wasn’t aimed at Aegon and his infantile demeanor.

After all, the cause of such commotion was far simpler.

Ser Erryk had made a mistake, and now he would pay for it.

“I may have lost an eye,” he told the kingsguard, voice dripping with poison. “But you are the one who is too blind to see that there is no scenario in which you come out victorious.”

The man responsible for prince Aegon’s well-being swallowed hard, but stood his ground, not showing anything other than respect for the dragon prince.

“Prince Aemond,” Ser Criston spoke once again. “Let us all calm down. I will make sure nothing of the sort happens again.”

Aemond chuckled. “First and final warning. Next time, you will not be so fortunate should you glance in her direction again.”

The young man nodded, staying silent.

“Mother will be delighted to know you’re threatening to kill my protector because of our sister’s lady-in-waiting,” Aegon said, clearly wanting to provoke his younger brother.

Aemond snapped his head at him. “If your own protection was of any concern to you, you wouldn’t dismiss his services so you can disappear into Flea Bottom,” a smile curved his lips as Aegon’s face dropped. “Do tell mother. Tell her that my flaw is caring for those I love, as she does. See how far that will get you, dear brother.”

Aegon’s eyes shot daggers at his younger brother in silence, and you vaguely wondered why he hadn’t snapped at his words.

But then again, Aegon thrived for simpler things in life other than picking fights with someone who could best him in whatever weapon of choice they’d decide to wield: sword or words.

As such, the rest of supper remained uneventful, with Aemond keeping one hand firmly on your thigh at all times.

That sense of belonging swept you off your feet completely.

Knowing that Aemond would not hesitate to let others know how strongly he felt about you.

By the time all cups and plates were emptied, Aegon left his seat, waving one hand dismissively at Ser Erryk as he exited the dining hall, proving once more that Aemond’s words had been true.

Aemond scoffed, raising to his feet while taking your hand in his. “Shall we?”

Heat flared in your cheeks as he tightened his grip lightly on you.

Nodding, you crossed eyes with Helaena. “I shall meet you in your bedchambers, my lady.”

Her eyes dropped to the sapphire necklace you had put on and she curled her lips into a warm smile.

Aemond held your hand closely as he paced across the room, until he was standing in front of Ser Erryk.

“Seeing that my brother won’t require your services, may I make use of them?”

It was a simple inquiry and it sounded innocent enough coming from him, but the look on Ser Erryk was far more revealing.

Criston Cole shared the sentiment, stepping between both of them. “Prince Aemond, I-"

Aemond heaved an audible sigh that effectively silenced him. “Ser Criston, you forget I’m skilled with my dagger,” he said, removing the blade from its sheath, twirling it effortlessly in his fingers. “If I wished to bring harm to Ser Erryk, I would have done so before you could blink.”

The young member of the Kingsguard did not seem all that convinced, but stepped aside regardless.

A mischievous smile danced on Aemond’s lips as he sheathed the dagger.

The sudden realisation that he was up to something suddenly hit you.

Never letting go of his hold on you, the three of you paced quietly along the vast corridors of the Red Keep.

There was certainly no need for Ser Erryk’s services and, for a fleeting moment, you wondered if Aemond actually intended to harm the young man.

But your fears vanished quickly when you reached the door to his bedchambers and watched as Aemond asked him to stand guard.

Ser Erryk held a blank expression, not daring to look at you.

Your lover let go of you hand and you felt him get behind you, pressing both hands on your shoulder.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

As soon as those words left his lips you turned to face him, embarrassed washing over you. “Aemond!”

One hand slid to your neck, slowly bringing his warm fingers to angle it, exposing more skin to his touch.

“Answer the question, Ser Erryk,” he said, caressing you with his thumb. “You may look at her now.”

His face hardened before your eyes, and he swallowed hard, probably thinking it was bait.

Embarrassment eventually subsided and made way for a fluttering sensation in your stomach as Aemond’s tender caressed kept you yearning for more.

Ser Erryk eventually turned his gaze to you. “Yes, she is, my prince.”

A low chuckle escaped Aemond’s lips before pressing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck.

Your eyes immediately fluttered shut and you thanked the Gods that his hold on your shoulder was enough to ground you, for your knees momentarily faltered.

He lingered for a while before drawing back, leaving a wet spot that made you shiver. “Do you trust me?” Aemond whispered in your ear.

You shouldn’t.

You couldn’t

But you wanted to.

Just to see how far he’d go to make you his.

“Yes.”

You open your eyes only to be met with Ser Erryk’s that seemed to be fixed on you.

“Ser Erryk,” Aemond said in between scorching kisses to your skin. “Would you want to touch her?”

The young man blinked in confusion. “My prince?”

“Oh, do not misunderstand,” he said and you could feel his smile. “It is not an offer.”

The hand on your shoulder moved to your belly before he settles his forearm right under your breasts, pulling you into his embrace and sealing your heated skin of with another kiss.

“Answer it.”

Through half-closed eyes you watched Ser Erryk swallow, visibly unsure of how to react. “No, my prince.”

Aemond scoffed, pulling you even closer, until you started to feel the outline of his cock being pressed firmly against your ass. You parted your lips, unable to control your breathing as pleasure overtook your senses.

His breath fanned your neck one last time before he let go of you at once.

“Ser Erryk, you are to guard this door.”

He threw one last look at you, straightening himself.

Aemond swung the door open and pulled you in, and before you could process whatever was happening, he had you pinned against the wooden boards until the foor slammed shut.

“Aemond…”

But he would have none of your words.

Hunger and possessiveness commanded the kiss he took from you, framing your hand with his strong hands, and grunting from having his cock rubbing against you.

He tore his lips away, ruffling the fabric of your dress up your thighs. “Legs around me. Now.”

The sense of urgency in his voice jolted you, but you immediately wrapped one leg first and once he had it secured with one hand, you lifted the other, immediately bringing your core into contact with his strained cock.

Aemond immediately bucked his hips into you, purely out of reflex, and you moaned as he held your jaw with his hand, forcing you to gaze at him.

“He’s… outside… my prince,” you managed to breathe out, nearly rolling your eyes when the fabric of his pants rubbed against your throbbing clit.

“And he will know I’m the only men who is ever allowed to have you,” he said before pressing hurried kisses along your jawline. “He will hear it.”

Lust had taken over and guided your body to sway alongside his, welcoming his desperate thrusts and your own need to quench the thirst you had for this man.

Your eyes had fluttered shut when his took your lips in his, but quickly snapped open at the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn.

Aemond had removed his eyepatch and his stare nearly took your breath away as he lifted his dagger to rest on the sapphire necklace he had gifted you.

You widened your eyes and let out a gasp once he dragged the cool metal along you skin, careful enough not to hurt you, settling it on the neckline of your dress.

“Do you trust me?” he asked for the second time that night.

You bit your lip, staring into his own sapphire. “No.”

“Allow me to change your mind.”

And with no further warning, he slide the dagger into your dress ripping it at the front, the tearing sound filling your ears.

You watched in shock as he threw the dagger to the blade to the floor.

Had Ser Erryk heard it too?

Even if he had missed it, he surely wouldn’t be able to miss the obscene noise of Aemond latching on to an exposed nipple, desperately sucking on it.

“Aemond…” you gasped, feeling your own wetness starting to coat your folds. “Aemond… Aemond…”

You kept on repeating his name like a prayer, not sure whether you were urging him or simply too lost in your own pleasure to say anything else.

He grunted as he rolled your nipple in between his teeth teasingly.

It was your time to snap your hips into his, and he immediately halted his ministrations to let out the most delicious growl you had ever heard.

“The many times I have wished to take you like this,” he whispered into your lips, rolling his clothed cock against you, one hand resting on the sapphire necklace. “You’re mine.”

A deep moan filled the room joining the rhythm sound of your body being slammed against the wooden door, certainly letting the man on the other side know the how it sounded to defy Aemond Targaryen and what he deemed as his.

“Ask him,” Aemond suddenly whispered as he fumbled with his pants.

“What…”

His hand finally managed to spring his cock free and, wasting no time, he pressed it on top of your soaked folds, applying just enough pressure until it sank in between them, relishing in your wetness.

“Tell him who you belong to,” he managed to say in between heavy pants.

As if to serve as motivation, he moved his hips to have his cock sliding up and down, the underside rubbing your clit.

“Ser Erryk…” you said, grasping his shoulders with both hands to keep the balance. “Ser Erryk…”

“Yes, my lady?”

His voice was low but firm, and you nearly let out a another breathy moan when Aemond brought his lips to your neck, sucking soundly.

“Who.. who..” your voiced died in your throat as the young prince’s cock relentlessly collected your wetness and spread it. “Who do I belong to…”

The member of the Kingsguard cleared his throat. “To… prince Aemond.”

Aemond removed his lips from your skin and planted a kiss. “Just marking you. Ser already Erryk knows you’re mine, and now others will, too.”

At this point you immediately realised you weren’t going to last much longer. Between his thick cock rubbing steadily into you and his words of lust, you knew your body wasn’t meant to withstand the unbearable level of pleasure.

You reached your peak first, crying out his name and pressing your head firmly against the door as your body rolled and your walls clenched around nothing.

Aemond pressed his forehead to the door, panting heavily into your ear. “Let me… just the tip…”

“Gods!” You sobbed as pleasured blinded your vision.

You felt him quickly shift under you, and gasped loudly once you felt him push the head of his cock into you.

Your legs quivered reflexively as he spilled profanities in High Valyrian as your walls clamped around him, rhythmically pushing him over the edge.

By the time Aemond went over the edge, you had already descended from your high, but still managed to find bliss in feeling the hot spurts of cum dripping from you.

Aemond threw his head back and his lips parted in a loud growl that you were sure would be heard across half of the Red Keep.

Both of you were left panting and by the time he had let you slide off his waist, you were able to feel the droplets of his released coating your folds and sliding down your thighs.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd smut

5K notes · View notes

nayziiz · 12 days

Text

Bridges | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (you)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Navigating a relationship fraught with distance and conflicting schedules can feel like traversing a rocky terrain, where every step forward is met with an unpredictable stumble. For you and Carlos, the challenges seem insurmountable at times. His perpetual travels, fueled by professional commitments or personal adventures, create chasms of physical separation that no amount of digital connection can bridge. Your own demanding job adds another layer of complexity, leaving scant pockets of time for meaningful interaction.

In this dynamic, the moments of togetherness become precious, almost elusive treasures hidden amidst the hustle and bustle of life. Video calls, once envisioned as lifelines, are reduced to fleeting encounters, struggling to capture the essence of your bond in pixels and sound waves. The warmth of his embrace, the sound of his laughter, the nuances of his expressions—these are distilled into fragmented pixels on a screen, a pale reflection of the real connection you crave.

The minimal time spent together often ended in arguments, particularly about your job. It wasn’t that you couldn’t work remotely—because you could—but rather, it was a matter of principle; sacrificing everything to please a man didn’t sit well with you. Carlos, to his credit, respected your career and never explicitly demanded such sacrifices, but the thought lingered, occasionally slipping out during heated debates. In those moments, you'd shut down, refusing to speak to him for days before mustering the strength to be civil again. You couldn’t help but wonder why he couldn’t consider giving up his job if it were so easy.

The aftermath of Carlos's slip of the tongue left a bitter taste in your mouth, a cocktail of resentment and hurt that soured the air between you. The weight of his words hung heavy in the silence that enveloped your shared space, casting a shadow over the once-intimate moments you cherished. The resentment festered, morphing into a simmering disdain that threatened to consume any remnants of affection.

Sleeping in the spare bedroom became an act of self-preservation, a physical manifestation of the emotional distance you felt compelled to maintain. Meals were solitary affairs, punctuated by the hollow echo of his absence and the gnawing ache of unresolved conflict. You sought refuge in the sanctuary of your bedroom, retreating behind closed doors as a shield against the pain that lingered in the spaces between you.

In hindsight, you couldn't help but question the pettiness of your actions. Was it fair to punish him with your silent reproach, denying him the opportunity to apologise and seek reconciliation? Perhaps not, but in the throes of hurt and indignation, rationality often takes a backseat to raw emotion. The desire for acknowledgment, for validation of your pain, outweighed any semblance of reason.

For Carlos, the silence was deafening, a constant reminder of his transgression and the widening chasm between you. He longed for the chance to express his regret, to extend an olive branch in the hopes of mending the fractured bond. Yet, each attempt was met with a wall of icy silence, leaving him stranded on the shores of remorse with no path to redemption.

In the end, both of you found yourselves trapped in a cycle of resentment and regret, each harbouring grievances left unspoken in the name of pride and stubbornness. The space between you grew wider with each passing day, a gaping void that threatened to swallow any hope of reconciliation. And as the silence stretched on, the echoes of unsaid apologies reverberated in the emptiness, a haunting reminder of the love that lay buried beneath the rubble of unresolved conflict.

Recognizing the toxicity of the situation, you came to the sobering realisation that the only path forward was to bring closure to the tumultuous chapter of your relationship. Amid the tangled web of hurt feelings and unresolved conflicts, the prospect of an amicable parting seemed like a distant beacon of hope, offering a glimmer of light in the darkness of uncertainty.

It was a decision fraught with emotion, tinged with a bittersweet mixture of sadness and relief. Ending things meant confronting the painful truth that the love you once shared had morphed into something unrecognisable, weighed down by the burden of unspoken grievances and unmet expectations. Yet, it also offered the promise of liberation, a chance to reclaim agency over your own happiness and well-being.

As you walked side by side along the familiar path to the nearby park, the weight of the impending conversation hung heavy in the air, casting a palpable tension over the otherwise serene atmosphere. The chirping of birds and rustling of leaves provided a backdrop to the silence that stretched between you, punctuated only by sporadic attempts at small talk that faltered and died as quickly as they began.

Each step felt like a journey into the unknown, a hesitant march towards a destination fraught with uncertainty and apprehension. You stole glances at Carlos, noting the furrow of his brow and the downturn of his lips, a reflection of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

As you walked together, the weight of the impending conversation still heavy on your mind, Carlos's sudden shift in focus caught you off guard. Following his gaze, you spotted the source of his attention—a young boy, no older than six, standing alone with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Without hesitation, Carlos reached for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring, as he guided you towards the distraught child. There was a sense of urgency in his movements, a silent determination to offer comfort and assistance to someone in need.

As you approached, the boy's cries grew louder, echoing through the quiet surroundings of the park. His eyes widened in surprise as Carlos knelt down beside him, his voice gentle and soothing as he offered words of reassurance.

“Hey there, buddy. What's wrong? Are you lost?” Carlos's voice was calm and steady, a beacon of comfort amidst the storm of the boy's emotions. The boy sniffled, wiping tears from his cheeks as he nodded hesitantly.

“I-I can't find my mom,” he whimpered, his bottom lip quivering with fear.

“It's okay, we're going to help you find her, alright? What's your name?” Carlos's expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy as he reached out to gently pat the boy's shoulder.

The boy sniffled again, his tears beginning to abate as he whispered, “Nicolas.”

you couldn't help but instinctively pull him closer, enveloping him in a protective embrace as you offered what comfort you could. His small frame felt fragile against your side, a poignant reminder of the vulnerability of youth and the universal need for reassurance in times of distress.

Swallowing hard against the lump that threatened to rise in your throat, you fought to maintain a façade of composure, knowing that your own tears would offer little solace to the frightened child in your arms. Instead, you focused on projecting an aura of calm and reassurance, drawing strength from the warmth of Carlos's presence by your side.

Turning to him, you met his gaze, finding in his eyes a reflection of your own concern and worry. Yet, beneath the surface, there was also a shared determination—a silent pact to weather whatever storm lay ahead, together.

“We'll find his mom, Carlos,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sought to reassure both the boy and yourself. “We won't stop until we do.”

Carlos nodded, his expression a mixture of resolve and compassion as he reached out to gently squeeze your hand.

“We'll do whatever it takes,” he replied, his voice steady despite the hint of emotion that lingered in his tone.

“What does your mom look like? Can you remember what she was wearing?” you asked the young boy.

As Nicolas described his mother's appearance, you listened intently, committing every detail to memory as you scanned the park for any sign of a woman matching his description. Carlos, ever vigilant, was already casting his gaze across the sprawling expanse of greenery, searching for the telltale hint of pink amidst the sea of foliage and fellow park-goers.

Your heart raced with each passing moment, the urgency of the situation driving you forward as you navigated the maze of pathways and shaded groves. Every rustle of leaves, every flash of colour, sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through your veins, heightening your senses as you strained to catch a glimpse of Nicolas's missing mother.

Minutes stretched into eternity as you combed through the park, your determination unwavering despite the mounting sense of unease that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

As you lifted Nicolas into your arms, feeling the weight of his small frame against your chest, a surge of maternal instinct washed over you, driving you forward with a sense of purpose and determination. His tear-streaked face nestled against your shoulder, his sobs muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and in that moment, you knew that you would do whatever it took to offer him comfort and reassurance.

Caught up in the whirlwind of emotion, you barely noticed Carlos's approach until he was by your side, his eyes soft with concern and tenderness as he reached out to gently take Nicolas from your arms. His touch was gentle yet firm, his arms cradling the boy with a sense of ease that spoke volumes of his natural empathy and compassion.

“He's too heavy for you to keep carrying,” Carlos remarked, his voice gentle yet firm as he adjusted his grip on Nicolas, offering him a reassuring smile. “Let me take him for a while.”

Reluctantly, you relinquished your hold on Nicolas, watching with a mixture of awe and admiration as Carlos effortlessly carried the boy in his arms. The resentment and anger that had simmered between you for weeks seemed to evaporate in an instant, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude and love.

As you watched Carlos interact with Nicolas, his face alight with warmth and kindness, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride welling up within you. Here was a man who had faced his own struggles and shortcomings, yet had risen above them with grace and compassion. In that moment, any doubts or misgivings you had harboured seemed trivial in comparison to the depth of love and admiration you felt for him.

And then, just as doubt began to creep in, a flash of pink caught your eye—a figure emerging from behind a cluster of trees, her black hair glinting in the sunlight as she approached.

“There she is!” Nicolas exclaimed, his voice tinged with relief as he pointed towards the approaching figure.

You followed his gaze, your heart soaring with gratitude and relief as you spotted the woman, her pink shirt unmistakable amidst the verdant backdrop of the park. With a sense of urgency, you guided Nicolas towards her, Carlos at your side as you closed the distance between yourselves and the reunited pair.

As Nicolas's mother enveloped him in a tight embrace, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion welling up within you. The tension that had gripped your chest began to ebb away, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude and relief as you witnessed the joy of their reunion.

“You've been so kind,” Nicolas’s mother murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Of course,” Carlos replied, his voice soft yet resolute as he met Nicolas's mother's gaze with a reassuring smile. “We're just glad we could help.”

Carlos’s eyes reflected the warmth and sincerity of her words. With a nod of acknowledgment, he tightened his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close in a gesture of solidarity and support.

Feeling his embrace, you couldn't help but return the gesture, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him closer with a sense of gratitude and affection. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the park and the gentle hum of evening, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment wash over you, enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

Turning back to Carlos, you met his gaze with a soft smile, a silent acknowledgment of the strength and compassion that had drawn you to him in the first place.

“I can't be without you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a breath as you voiced the depth of your need.

As the words tumbled from your lips, carried on a whisper of vulnerability and longing, you felt the weight of their truth settle heavily in the space between you. In response, Carlos's expression softened, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of your words as he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands.

“Me either, my love,” he murmured, his voice a tender echo of your own sentiments as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of emotion coursing through you, reaffirming the depth of the bond that bound you together. Yet, even as you revelled in the comfort of his embrace, a nagging sense of unease lingered in the recesses of your mind—an unspoken acknowledgment of the challenges that lay ahead.

“I don't know how, but we need to fix this,” you added, your voice tinged with determination as you met Carlos's gaze with a steadfast resolve.

The words hung heavy in the air, a solemn vow to confront the obstacles that threatened to tear you apart and find a path forward, together. Carlos nodded, his grip on your body tightening ever so slightly as he met your gaze with a fierce determination of his own.

“No matter what it takes, we'll find a way to make this work,” he replied, his voice infused with unwavering conviction.

In that moment, as you stood locked in each other's gaze, you knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and uncertainty. Yet, with love as your guiding light and determination as your compass, you were ready to face whatever obstacles lay in your path, hand in hand, united in purpose and resolve.

142 notes · View notes

nariism · 9 months

Text

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you.

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside.

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation.

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it.

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle.

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore.

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two.

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest.

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

#— whispers in the wind ✧#seriously thank you to ellie #everyone go give her a big hug she deserves the world #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

568 notes · View notes

utterlyotterlyx · 2 months

Note

Hello! Can I request a fic for Helion where reader finds out she is pregnant after years of trying, where she had started being hopeless and close to giving up, and decides to surprise Helion with the news.

Hell yeah you can! x

Precious Gifts

Summary - After centuries of trying to conceive, you're just about ready to give up, that is until the Mother decides to give you the most precious gift of all.

Warnings - mentions of sex, mentions of miscarriages, depression, so much fluff that my heart can't cope.

There was nothing you wanted more than a baby.

After everything had finally come to an end and Prythian felt safe again, it seemed like to perfect time to bring your own bundle of beautiful babbling joy into the world.

Helion was your mate, the love of all of your lives, the one your soul searched for in the darkness, the one you always knew you'd find no matter what world you landed in next. He was yours and you were his and that was it.

You and Helion had tried for centuries to have a child before Amarantha, and each time your nights entangled in one another had been successful it seemed like the Mother had decided it wasn't your time yet and ripped your dream out of the palms of your hands. It was painful, and it made you feel like less of a woman, like you weren't worthy of Helion.

Of course Helion thought that notion was nonsense, he loved you for you, not what your body could give him. He remembered the moment the bond had snapped for him, he spied you walking along the sandy shores of the Day Court beach by his palace, your hair was unbound and you wore a loose fitted white dress, no shoes to be seen. Helion believed you were an angel plucked from the heavens and sent to him, so beautiful and pure, and submissive in the only way that mattered. In the bedroom.

Helion recounted the copious amounts of times he had pulled orgasm upon orgasm out of your body, turning you into a bumbling ball of pleasure beneath him that shuddered with oversensitivity as he worked you through endless highs. No one could compare to you, his old ways went out of the window abruptly, all he wanted was you.

Trying for a baby had made him so happy, the excitement in him was so clear that it hurt even more when your body failed your dreams. The sex became more of a chore, neither of you were enjoying it anymore, and it was breaking him to see you so torn and conflicted, so you decided to stop actively trying to conceive, to love yourself and your relationship again.

A babe would arrive when the time was right, Helion had cooed it to you plenty of times whilst you had cried in his arms, apologising for what you couldn't do. Helion would tell you that babes were rare, that it took some couples a few centuries to conceive their first.

Then Amarantha happened, and Helion was taken from you whilst she raided your plush libraries to the ground, taking what she wanted whilst teasing you cruelly about your failures as a woman, to not do the only thing your High Lord required of you.

You had spent fifty years ruling over the Day Court in his absence, you had spent everyday missing him and yearning for him, your touch starved body crying out for its mate. Every citizen had made it clear how well you were doing, how you did your best to not let them feel as though all was lost, it was exhausting but you did it, and the Day Court was thankful for your endless efforts to preserve their way of life.

Helion had returned, and his advisors had sent him to you, telling him you were in your usual place along the shore with your pup trotting along behind you with ears flopping in the breeze and splashing in the waves.

He had ran to you, you had both cried endlessly, and he had made love to you on that beach with the sun dipping low against the ocean and the sky kissed with orange and pink.

Then the war with Hybern, the war you doubted you'd win. But you did, and Helion had come back to you, weary and traumatised; he had fallen into your arms, and you had caressed his hair until he fell asleep on your lap.

And then finally, you both knew it was time to start again, that the reason you weren't able to withhold a pregnancy was because the Mother needed you elsewhere all of those years, she didn't want to burden you with being a single mother whilst your mate was locked away or fighting in a war to save all of Prythian.

Helion had always been the most doting and passionate lover, rolling his hips into you with perfect precision toward that spot he knew made you go wild, his lips attached to your neck, his whispers telling you how much he loved you and how good you were for him, his fingers always knowing which part of you to touch next. Helion was the best in Prythian, you were sure of it, and had no issue expressing that fact to him as he made your vision explode in a kaleidoscope of white sunshine foaming with golden fire.

Then, one morning, you felt it. The panging pain in your breasts and the slight nausea that pooled in your stomach along with the dull throb of your head. Inhaling, you gasped, noting the all too familiar change in your scent. Your hands drifted to your stomach and you smiled, tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you giggled, allowing a shaky exhale to flow from your lips.

The sun streaked through the thin curtains that danced in the summer breeze, the ocean twinkled against her light and your looked to your right to find Helion still softly dozing on his front, his body bare and perfectly sculpted. It was clear you had both slept right through to the afternoon.

Quietly, you tiptoed to your shared bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and oils to make your skin glisten, and you submerged yourself in it, you hair tied up so that it didn't get wet. You felt like you were glowing, like you could feel that swelling seed inside of you growing with each passing moment.

"Hello, My Sun," Helion purred from the doorway, his lower half covered with a thin sheet that left little to the imagination, he truly was delicious.

Your mate approached, lips still swollen from your hours long entanglement from the night before, and pressed a kiss into your hair before dropping the sheet and climbing in behind you. Helion's fingers grazed along your sides and he tugged you into his embrace, humming in relaxation as the water and oils soothed his body.

"Wine? I know you love a glass whilst you bathe," he worked his fingers into the knots of your shoulders, unknowing to your changed state due to your scent being masked by the oils and candles he had lit, ocean salt drifting through the room.

You hummed, "No, I can't drink anymore," you ran your fingers over his muscular thighs, having vivid flashbacks of you riding them the night before with shaky moans falling from your lips as you came on them.

Helion frowned, "You've never said no to a wine," he noted, huffing and moving you so that you were straddling him, you bottom half was submerged and wrapped around his nose, your nipples just reaching under the surface of the water. Helion searched your face, "What's going on?"

A bright smile beamed on your face and you reached for his hands, playing with his fingers before resting them on your stomach, "Nothing, I just can't drink anymore."

Helion looked at you with pure bewilderment before following to where his hands now lay flat against your stomach, he gasped and snapped his gaze back up to you, inhaling deeply before laughing softly, "You're pregnant," he breathed, wasting no time in bundling you into his arms and kissing you deeply, tears of pure joy flowing down his face.

"It's our turn for some happiness now," you told him, squealing in laughter when he scooped you from the tub and took you to back to bed, hovering over you with that delicious arousal you adored.

"A baby or not, I will never not be happy with you, My Sun."

Let's just say that neither of you left the bedroom for the next three days, Helion was happy to keep you wrapped up with his body, making you feel things you hadn't before, all whilst taking every opportunity to caress and whisper his love to your soon-to-be bump.

#imagine #fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #helion x reader #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver #high lord helion #helion x you #acotar fandom #acotar oneshot #sarah j maas

174 notes · View notes

ay0nha · 10 months

Text

Venus Rising | Thomas Shelby

SUMMARY: Three moments in which you run into Tommy, the final provoking a deal neither of you are prepared for.

“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…I want, I want to think, to be omniscient.” Sylvia Plath (1949)

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking (tobacco/weed), criticism of time-period misogyny/misogyny in general, canon-typical things, angst again, rich people being annoying, no proof reading, rushed ending, slow burn, etc.

A/N: Oop, another Tommy fic, apparently it’s not quite out of my system. Inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (title is inspired by the original title of the book!) and @huntingingoodwill‘s post (here), ESPECIALLY with the third part of this as it comes from Carmen’s beautiful brain. Inspo is taken from various feminist writing and particularly an Agnes Varda quote. MIGHT do a part two, idk yet.

Comments are VERY encouraged! Enjoy.

“Thanks for that…” Tommy was finally catching his breath but still searched for your name. He hadn’t seen you in the gathering below and questioned if the room he found himself in belonged to you.

“We’re better off strangers.” You weren’t defensive, nor was your guard up; you were just focused. Fixated. The painting was borderline mesmerizing, and you struggled to tell if it was from the art or how your joint dwindled steadily.

Your isolation was purposeful.

The reception provoked the start of a migraine; its noise bleeding through the thick walls of the stately home only grew more deafening as the evening furthered. To find relief, you wandered the empty halls, the stairs that led to darkness, and every door that seemed particularly off-limits.

It was a simple measure of self-preservation until your seclusion was fractured.

The door opened abruptly, a body sliding through the narrow space to hide in the most prominent shadow. You thought you were caught, but the man held a finger to his lips, expression prepared for the obvious chase.

You were the perfect accomplice.

Those who came looking for him were met with your theatrics, a role well-rehearsed; your eyes never glanced to where Tommy hid in the most prominent shadows; your upset alone secured you hadn’t seen the man with the razor-lined cap; you simply wanted to return to your silence.

“You stick out, you know…” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought was absentminded, your lips tingling with indifference.

“I have an invitation.” Tommy had it forged, making it nearly identical to the one you’d received in the post.

You hummed with amusement. “I mean—you don’t belong.”

Considering how you equated his presence with his class, Tommy considered taking offense. However, your humor exposed no ill intent. You were trying to relate to him. To offer some solace, you offered the joint to him between pinched fingers.

“Let me guess, neither do you.” Tommy accepted your olive branch with a drag.

“Oh, I never will.” Although your smile remained, your tone became distant. You didn’t glance at Tommy until he took another puff. His eyes were ahead, just as yours were, attempting to see what had enraptured you in the painting. “Just like her.”

The face of the young woman depicted was covered, but her body was exposed. You were sure the owner of the canvas only valued the misinterpreted eroticism. Yet, the scene’s voyeuristic purposes were to convey the end of a very long day. You were convinced if you reached out, you could soothe her aching muscles from her obviously laborious job.

The painting's size didn’t speak for its cost. You wanted to laugh at how something so precious was stored on a wall as a forgotten decoration. However, you would do the exact same if it were in your possession. It would hang on your ceiling that way; when you rested your head against your pillow, you could get one final look at it as if it were a mirror, a grounding reminder that there was company in such an empty space.

“You pity the poor.” The statement held a questioning tone. Tommy interpreted the painting and your thoughts literally; a woman relieved of farm work was being judged by you—someone worse than the bourgeois.

“Don’t you see it?” Bitter ecstasy carried your words. You wanted to be heard. “Her and I are the same…”

Tommy returned the joint, realizing its purpose was to aid and calm you from the turmoil you hoped to escape. He felt an odd sense to comfort you but wouldn’t.

Instead, he repaid his earlier debt with unaccustomed humor, “I doubt someone like you shovels shit for a living.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You let the smoke settle in your chest, its warmth comforting. “From inception, we’re indistinguishable, born with an innocence that is only nurtured to be stolen. Our very being is never our own. Once our bodies are pried from our minds, we starve because of it.”

“Ah, I see…” Tommy started, “You’re a modern woman.”

The joint was almost a roach, but you passed it back, ridding yourself of its responsibility. The man beside you was a stranger, and you were thankful for that position. Anything said didn’t matter. It would evaporate and leave no trace. Tommy understood this well, participating in a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“Modernity is irrelevant.” You corrected. Your words sunk into your stomach, weighing you down. “This is beyond time.”

—

“Gave a try shoveling shit, eh?” Tommy crossed his legs, leaning back with an ease you were envious of. A cigarette was rolled along his lips, a habit formed by comfort.

Once lit, the image was complete. It had clicked. “You.”

Thomas Shelby. Your memory of him held a haze, that night's intoxication cherry-picking how you retained the interaction. But your vague image of him was enough to understand his occupation. You were warned against his world, but you could only do so much when your worlds overlapped so bizarrely.

“Me.” He confessed with mitigation. There was a cadence even in his silence. Clearly, he was thinking of how to approach you, but you failed to recognize how he always remained ahead in his business. “You were found near the stables.”

“Apparently, I’m a witch.” You mused. Cheltenham was never dull.

Tommy hummed, entertaining your wit only slightly. “They think you’ve cursed the horses.”

Horses were efficient beasts that were often mistreated, that much you knew. However, they intimidated you into submission. Their role in your life was distant, typically involving a reflection of wealth and nothing more.

You hid behind the stables because you misunderstood the distance you created. It had a false bottom that showed those in your world never enter their stables, allowing others to do the hard work. Those around you wouldn’t dare stain their fine fabrics how you chose to.

Although the air was foul, the stables were the only place you could breathe without the hands of your arranged date finding home where they weren’t welcomed.

You knew the man who caught you was Tommy’s brother. Though they looked different, the air surrounding them was suffocating. They were driven by brutal confidence that manifested physically and for Tommy mentally. The mind game you were presented with was just as predetermined as the races.

“I want us to understand each other.” Ash fell from Tommy’s cigarette in thought. “We do not share the same fantasy.”

“And what fantasy is that?”

“Poor little rich girl—” His words were punctuated. “—thinks she can play gypsy until she hears the dinner bell.”

Your laughter made him flinch. “And what’s for dinner?”

Tommy had vetted you. No one knew anything worthy about you. So everyone simply fantasized about you, spinning tales. Yet, you were an extraordinary nobody—an amazing unknown. Suspicion wasn’t necessary, but there was no need for his growing intrigue.

“That man you came with…” Tommy knew who he was. He was another kid that thought one day he could rule the world. But all he was capable of was poorly executed white-collar crime. “Who is he?”

You shrugged. “To him, I am his girlfriend.”

“And to you?”

“Does that matter?”

Tommy quickly learned that your only form of retaliation was posed through questions. The more philosophical, the more your guard remained. “I've been thinking about what you've said…”

The admission alone was out of character and also misrepresented. Tommy's mind was riddled with your sentiments. It was a thoughtful comment on something broader, something Tommy knew of and was growing to understand. But that wasn’t what preoccupied him.

It was how your poise wasn’t carried through your posture. It was how you expressed yourself indifferently but spoke so sharply. You were a constant contrast that perplexed him, possessed him to look into you, into your life. He planned to search until he found a moment where you put your thoughts to use the way he had.

“You, a suffragette?” Your lip curled at the thought. “Now, that, Mr. Shelby, is a fantasy.”

—

Planning an escape was satisfying but little compared to the follow-through.

The feeling solidified when the silk hem of your dress billowed was the only trail of your escape. You could hear your name echo along the corridor wall, someone sent to find you and force you back into the festivities.

“Where are you going?” The voice was a mix of a whisper and shout, reflecting nothing but urgency. The guests weren’t privy to your behavior, but your absence was clear. You heard your name again.“You must come down! You’re upsetting the guests!”

Although your home, the walls felt like they were shifting, creating a maze to your safety. The click of your heels was like a countdown to being caught. That was until your hand frantically found an antique handle of the most inconspicuous door.

Sliding into the broom closet, darkness invaded your senses.

With its veil, you could make out the sliver of light that fought to illuminate the room from the other side. It tracked the shadow of who chased you, showing you how they inched closer, hoping to hear your rapid breathing. Once enough time was given to their search; the footsteps receded in the wrong direction, their voice calling after you growing faint.

Your relief was borderline euphoric; your body demonstrated success as the tension drained the further you calmed. You sunk toward the door, forehead against the smooth, cool wood.

The sound behind was as quick as the movement. Identifiable and surprising.

The match created friction that illuminated the small space with an orange glow. You moved fast, your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth.

“Cigarette?” Tobacco filled the cramped room, the burning end of the cigarette not quite exposing your companion. But you could feel the amusement at the situation radiate from the corner.

Your stupor made you move with shock. “Christ!”

Your hand shot up to feel around for the light switch above you, yanking on the cord. Awash in light, you took in the sight of the man who was casually nursing a cigarette.

“Mr. Shelby?” You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Tommy.”

“What are you—

“I’m a guest.” The cigarette bobbed with his chiding.

“A guest.” You repeated, your tone brimming with doubtful sarcasm. “And what is a guest doing, hiding here, so far away from the party?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He quipped, icy expression holding your own.

“Ah, but I’m not a guest.” You defended yourself, holding up a finger as you corrected him. “This is my family’s party. I am technically a host.”

“Well—” He began, taking a puff of his cigarette, silver smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke. “—not a very good host if you’re hiding up here, eh?”

Your eyebrows cocked as you took him in. His presence meant business. “I don’t seem to remember my father mentioning gangsters would be on the guest list tonight.”

“Why not?” He replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re good fun at parties.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” You mused. “But I doubt this is your kind of party.” You wished to witness him in action, for him to live up to all the stories you’ve heard about him firsthand. And you could tell he was itching for you to ask. “What have you got planned tonight?”

“If you must know—” Tommy remained externally stoic but revealed himself bluntly. “—I’m here to rob your family blind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father has come into quite a bit of money recently,” Tommy said, words calculated and measured. “He’s been stepping on the Blinders’ business. So, I came here tonight to take back what’s ours.”

“How much?” You asked.

“A million dollars.” He sighed, highlighting his statement with a drag of his cigarette.

“That all?” You scoffed.

“You’d hardly miss it,” Tommy explained. “And, with your family’s yearly legendary holiday party going on tonight, I figured I could hide until all the…” He took a second to ponder, searching for the words, “...rich fucks down there were drunk enough. Then, I’d take what’s mine and leave. No one would be any the wiser.”

There was a pause. He wanted you to protest, but he knew you wouldn’t. You were reading him just as well. It quickly became a stalemate, but you had the advantage of toying with him.

“Well, I should fulfill my host duties.” You sighed, tone wrapping up the unorthodox interaction. “Find my father while I’m at it; tell him bookkeepers are infested in our walls.”

“You’re not going back down there.”

Another pause. Your skin crawled with jest. “And why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

He shook his head casually, eyes boring through yours. “You’re not going back down there because you don’t want to.”

“What?” Your laugh was soft and unexpected. It was hard to determine, but some of you would have rathered a threat. This was almost as entertaining.

“I can tell you don’t want to go down there. So don’t.”

Behind your back, you reached for the doorknob, but as your fingers grazed it, you lost your nerve. You sighed, flexing your fingers.

“Move over.” You instructed, and Tommy listened. He slid closer to the wall as you squeezed beside him, arm against him in a one-sided comfort. “Poor little rich girl opening up to a gangster. Never saw that in the cards.” You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag, carefully considering your next words. “It’s never as simple as it seems, really.”

“Sure it is.”

“It really isn’t.” You chuckled, eyes trained on the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Enlighten me.” He replied, taking the cigarette back as you passed it to him.

The emotions you kept bottled up bubbled in your throat. Living in the gilded cage of high society had privilege but was equally emotionally destructive. It felt foreign, the thought of exposing yourself with such vulnerability; you grew nervous at the prospect of having to do so.

“Simplicity is a pipe dream when your life relies on codependency.” Just the thought of it made you dizzy. “It’s better to hide than risk being a blemish to the family.”

Tommy stayed quiet. Then against better judgment, he spoke. “Why not just leave? You’re a clever girl. Surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You countered without edge; you knew his slight dig was only to lighten things. He said his part out of decency. “Why do you think I was at those stables? If it weren’t for your brother…”

The crackle of your drag filled the new-found silence. You weren’t sure how long you’d stay there nor how long you subject Tommy to your company. It was a moment of brevity you both seemed to need. You hadn’t meant to find him, and his plan had nothing to do with you, but that in itself sparked your idea.

“Hey, Tommy?”

He turned to meet your contact, eyebrows raised, air mixing from the proximity. “Hmm?”

“How’d you like some help with stealing that million?”

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x f!reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

578 notes · View notes

kitchenisking · 7 months

Text

November Fic Rec

Mǣnōn by MyBeth - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9237, sterek)

Knotting. It’s a thing that exists. Like werewolves and weird lizard creatures. It’s just rated NC-17 so you don’t hear about it so much on TV. It exists and he gets it. Stiles. He’s the one that gets it.

The Mating Rituals of Alphas by clio_jlh - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9884, sterek)

Sure, Derek was born an alpha but he's never been good at all that dominant behavior that's expected of him, and even though the adults around him tell him to be himself, he worries that he'll never claim an omega if he doesn't get it together. But his omega actually already claimed him, years ago.

The Alexandrian Solution by Bexless - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5317, sterek)

"I accept your body!" Stiles says hurriedly. "I accept you. Sexually."

There is a pause. Derek says, "Thanks."

Not Quite Like This by saltandbyrne - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2535, sterek)

Stiles needs to get ready for Derek's knot. Derek gets him a gift to help.

All Of Me by Black_Calliope - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 602, sterek)

And when the day finally comes, when Stiles finds himself bent over Derek’s kitchen table, hands gripping the edges of the wooden surface and sweat pooling on the long curve of his back, when Derek drives into him with deep, eager thrusts- “Wanna feel it,” he finds himself incoherently babbling. “Wanna feel it so bad. Please, Derek. Please, please,” it’s just a litany that keeps bleeding out his mouth, pleads and cries melting together as, behind him, Derek grabs the back of his neck and snarls.

settle us in by eldee - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2748, sterek)

Stiles' breath hitches because he can tell it's something else, something more, something he hasn't known how to put into words or ask for. Hopefully Derek gets it.

nobody but us, bodies together by EvanesDust - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3467, sterek)

During a holiday party at the sheriff’s station, things get a little hot and heavy when Derek realizes Stiles is wearing his favorite pair of red lace thongs.

…or the one with a holiday party and sexy times (all because Derek can't seem to control himself when it comes to Stiles).

7th Heaven After Dark by ChaelzChaelz - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4555, sterek)

Papa and Tata are home alone for the first time in way too long.

Filling Up That Part Of Me by ToastMaloneIII - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3506, sterek)

“Have I ever been easy?”

“You’re so easy for me, baby. That’s what I like about you. Doesn’t take much to turn you into a perfect, obedient little slut, does it?”

Stiles finds a sex club and meets his match.

The More That I Know You (the more I want to) by LadySlytherin - (Rating: Mature, Words: 43656, sterek)

When death, in the form of hunters, comes for a family of Kelpies seeking refuge in the Preserve - in Hale territory - the Hale Pack is too late to save them. Before he dies, the male Kelpie presses a precious bundle into Stiles’ arms and begs the Emissary to take responsibility for it, which an initially reluctant Stiles does. When he agreed, Stiles had no idea what the sight of him with a baby would do to his esteemed Alpha, Derek. If he’d known, he might not have been so reluctant to agree.

#stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #stiles x derek #fanfic #fanfiction #fic rec #kitcheniskingficrecs

299 notes · View notes

melanieph321 · 4 months

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - Risk It All Part 4/6

⚠️Warning ⚠️

+18

Reader gets pregnant by Ruben. Although the two are not together Ruben promises to support her through the pregnancy, eventually letting reader stay with him until the child is born. (This fic includes alot of angst and serious topics)

Enjoy!

You were married to Ruben.

Six months had gone by and following those six months your life was now unrecognizable. After a business like wedding with only one witness present, you were now Mrs Dias, swept into a life of luxurious parties and unwanted media attention, all whilst carrying your first child.

"You're gonna catch a cold."

"It's what I'm hoping for."

Ruben found you on the roof top balcony, hiding from your duties. Elena, the director of your life, would want you inside, shaking people's hands, talking about how excited you and Ruben were to bring new life into this world.

"Y/N, please come inside."

Ruben was better than you at playing along. He didn't mind lying to his friends, lying about how you two met and "decided" to keep your relationship private from the world. They all ate it up, even Ruben's family.

"I wanna go back to the hotel." You said, wrapping your arms around yourself to mend the nights cold. Ruben sighed, but took it upon himself to remove his tuxedo jacket, draping it over your shoulders. "We will, in time. The auction isn't over yet."

"And all the ice cream you can eat." Ruben smiled, grabbing your hand as he led you back inside. He kept his promise, of course. During your time living together you had come to learn that Ruben was no liar, even when the truth hurt sometimes.

It was a charity event in London, the money going to a good cause. However you had no idea why rich people had the need to dress up in expensive items costing more money than what they were actually donating.

"Do you promise to buy me Shawarma when we do leave?" You asked, pouting your lips and batting your eyelashes.

"Wait for me while I get the car." He said, leaving you and Elena sitting on the top of a set of concrete steps, enjoying your Shawarmas.

"He really cares about you." Elena said, unprovoked. "My job would be much more difficult if he didn't."

"Thanks." You mumbled, too busy enjoying your declicious food. The growth of your belly also followed the growth of your appetite, something that caused you to gain a bit of extra pregnancy weight.

"Ruben told me to make sure that you get a nice settlement once the two of you divorce."

You snorted. "How nice of him."

The two of you were literally playing house, getting married only to divorce a minimum of two years after the baby was born. If it wasn't for the security your life with Ruben offered, you would have never agreed to go through with any of it. I mean, you were literally playing with your own life, all because Ruben had a precious image of himself to preserve.

"That's us."

Elena stood, seeing Ruben's Mercedes coming your way. You made the effort to stand up as well, but lost your footing as the weight of your belly tampered with your balance.

"Dear god!" Elena gasped, as you came flying behind her, taking a tumble down the concrete steps.

"My Shawarma." You groaned.

"Y/N!"

Ruben was out of the car and rushing to your side before Elena had managed to. "Fuck, are you okay?" He didn't touch you, afraid to do more damage as you stood on all fours, a hand wrapped around your belly.

"Y/N, please tell me you're okay?"

"I wasn't finished." You cried, a sad sight seeing the neatly wrapped bread now splatter on the ground before you.

"She needs to got to the hospital Ruben." Elena heels clicked as she descended the steps, reaching the bottom of them. "Now!"

"I'm fine." You reassured, but struggled to get up from the ground by yourself. Ruben's strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up with one swoop.

"At least let someone check her out." Elena suggested.

"I promise, I'm all good." You said, trying to laugh it off.

It was as busy as any emergency in a big city. People from everywhere came with broken limbs and bleeding wounds to tend. For this you felt guilty that Ruben managed to convince a doctor to prioritize you. "Well, you seem fine to me Mrs Dias." The doctor stepped away from the stool on which you sat, removing his rubber gloves to make a few notes on his computer. "Has there been any unusual activity since your fall, like the baby moving around more than usual?"

"No." Ruben said, determined. "I'll take you to the emergency room." It was the urgency in his voice and the way his hands trembled as he still held to support you. "Okay." You nodded, agreeing to let Ruben take you to the nearest emergency room.

You bit your lip, pondering his question. "Um, no. I don't think so. It doesn't really do that."

The doctor turned back from his computer, a deep frown on his face as he looked at you. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"The baby." You shrugged. "It doesn't move around. Or at least I haven't felt it kick yet."

The doctor turned to Ruben, the two of them sharing the same terrified gaze.

"What?" You frowned.

The doctor stood, retrieving another pair of gloves as well as calling for a nurse to assist him.

"What's going on?" You asked, uncertainty in your voice.

"Mrs Dias, it says you're six months pregnant."

"Yes, and?"

The doctor and his nurse worked together to rearrange his office, bringing in a monitor that looked like a tv screen on wheels. "Prepare for an emergency ultrasound. Patient is six months pregnant but has failed to notice any signs of life from the fetus."

"Doctor please, tell me what's going on. Is my baby going to be alright?" Things were moving fast, as well as your heart rate. You knew that things were serious when the nurse started attaching clips to your finger tips, setting up a graphic to show your pulse. Whilst all of this was going on the doctor had you lay on a medical table, pulling up your shirt as to expose your belly. "This might feel cold." He said, the only warning before rubbing a cooling gel across your stomach.

"Ruben." You flinched, practically panicking now.

"Hey, I'm here." He said, grabbing a hold of your hand, squeezing it to reassure you.

Your eyes traveled to the ceiling, the blinding lights causing tears to slid down the side of your face. You gasped as pressure was applied to your stomach, the doctor moving around with his tools. However, you were to afraid to look and confirm this.

"Ultrasound begins." The doctor said, speaking to his nurse. "We have a visual of the fetus...Everything looks fine. Let's move on to localizing the heartbeat..."

You tilted your head as Ruben grip around your hand tightened. He looked focus, brows furrowed as his eyes were fixated on the little TV screen. The suspens was killing you. What if something was wrong with your....

"Hearbeat located." The doctor said, followed by a collective sigh from both Ruben and the nurse. You, however was still trembling all over.

"Congratulations Mrs Dias, you and your husband await a beautiful baby girl."

********************************************

You returned to the hotel room around midnight. Ruben was still on the phone with Elena as you went to wash up. Only when you were halfway asleep did you feel a dip in the bed that you shared.

"Ruben?"

He krept closer, doing something that the two of you had never done before. "I'm here." He said, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Why are you shaking?" Your eyes flung open, turning around in order to face him. Your heart sank once you saw the exhaustion in his face, the remaining terror in his eyes. "Ruben?" Your hands went to caress his cheek, but he jerked away, not wanting to be consoled.

"Ruben?"

He sat up and you followed.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, burring his face in his hands as if he suddenly suffered a severe headache.

"Ruben, please. You're scaring me." You scooted closer, desperate to be near him, to touch him. However he jerked away once more, refusing to be touched. It broke your heart, seeing him this way.

"I thought I...." He mumbled. "I thought I lost..."

"Oh Ruben, the baby is okay. Everything is gonna be okay." You didn't care if he refused to be touched, you couldn't take it, leaping forwards to pull him close. However Ruben caught you in motion, grabbing your hands just as you were about to touch him. The room was dark but Ruben eyes were visible in the moonlight. They were shimmering, shimmering with his tears. He pressed his lips together, uttering the words through gritted teeth. "No Y/N, I could have lost you." Your heart fluttered, eyes fixated on him and only him. He surrendered, lowering your hands so that they rested on each side of his face. "I could have lost you." He whispered, shifting his head a little so that your hand covered a part of his mouth, his lips soft beneath the palm of your hands. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you Y/N."

"You won't lose me Ruben. Not me or the baby."

"Fuck."

He looked up, eyes wide. The palm of your hand still covered his mouth, however his intentions were not to speak. He kissed it, the center of your hand, moving on to kiss the back of it, tracing the kisses all the way up towards your forearms, railing you in. You gasped once he had you pressed flush, against him, his head buried in the crease of your neck. He inhaled your scent, preserving it in his memory. "Ruben." You groaned. The heat of the moment capturing you too. You knew that you wanted this, you've always wanted this. "I want you Ruben." The words were whispered against the smooth skin below his ear. Ruben responded with a low grunt made deep down in his throat. And then his hand slipped between the sheets in search for an opening.

Your back arched, to the sensation of him, Ruben's fingers, making their way down your damped panties.

"Say you want me Y/N." He huffed. "Say you want me forever."

"I want you Ruben, forever."

It was all that needed to be said. No further words were spoken as the movments between you synchronized into something fluid, a liquid of some sort. A liquid of love. Yes, it was the only to describe it. The two of you were in love.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #ruben dias imagine #football angst

139 notes · View notes

madebycloud · 1 year

Text

A Masterpiece

wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you led wednesday through the cavernous halls of the art museum. but for wednesday, there was only one work of art that truly mattered: you. warnings/themes: fluff, art museum date words: 0.8k (it's too short, im sorry) note: this fic is based on a song i listen to while I'm in class, so i hope you enjoy it! (ignore the grammar errors.)

Wednesday should've said no.

Her writing time was too precious to be spent in an art museum. She had plans to brainstorm more ideas for the stories and poems she wanted to publish in the near future. Wednesday had always been a writer at heart, and she felt like her creativity flowed best when she was alone and surrounded by her own thoughts.

But with your bright smiles and enthusiastic jumps, it was hard to say no. She knew that your love for art was endless.

For you, art is more than just a hobby or a passion, it's a way of life. You adore the colors, the details, and the meaning behind every brushstroke.

The prospect of seeing your face light up with excitement was all the motivation she needed to accept the invitation.

You walked through the museum, admiring the art, discussing history and technique, and letting your enthusiasm shine through.

Wednesday followed you, with soft music playing in the background. She could hear the footsteps of other visitors, the rustle of clothes, and the quiet whisper of conversations.

You stop to admire a famous painting, the Mona Lisa, and your eyes light up as you take in the beauty of Leonardo da Vinci's work.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You pointed out the intricate details, the colors, and the perfection of every stroke. "I'm not sure which word is best, but it's certainly a masterpiece."

She couldn't help but turn to look at you as you stood before a painting, smiling as you admired it.

A masterpiece? Wednesday couldn't understand how you could refer to a painting with nothing but paint on it, just splashes all over, as a masterpiece.

Your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips— Wednesday was mesmerized by your beauty, feeling as though she were looking at a work of art come to life.

That was the moment she realized that you were the true masterpiece, and no painting, sculpture, or drawing could ever compare to the beauty of you.

You looked at the painting and felt like a true artist. You knew you couldn't recreate the beauty before you, but your hands yearned to try. Your mind was abuzz with ideas, and you wanted to share your thoughts with Wednesday.

She was the masterpiece, your muse, the inspiration for everything you desired to create in this moment.

The way her brown eyes shone like the stars in the sky, her freckles dotting her skin like a constellation— she was the definition of perfection. You wanted to capture her on canvas, to preserve her perfection forever. But for now, you would enjoy her presence and let your imagination run wild.

You looked back at the painting. Feeling the blood rush in your ears.

"But you know, some people don't really appreciate art," you continued, referring to the people in front of you who were taking pictures. "They take pictures just to add to their social media, done. They don't try to understand the essence of the artwork, all the emotions and hard work put into it."

Wednesday nodded in agreement, understanding that some people just don't try to understand the emotions and hard work that artists put into their art. It takes years of practice to perfect their craft, and some people just look at the surface level of it.

You checked your watch and noticed it was time to go back. You asked, "So, which styles of art did you enjoy the most? Did you prefer classical, medieval, romanticism, basque, or could you relate to Leonardo da Vinci's art, maybe even Vincent van Gogh or Claude Monet's works? Tell me, my love." You asked, tilting your head as you walked, trying to make conversation and get a feel for her perspective on the artwork.

Wednesday paused for a moment, considering your question, before her eyes met yours. She finally spoke, her voice low and serious. "Your question is so banal and pointless," she said, rolling her eyes.

She continued, her eyes still locked with yours "Art is a subjective experience, influenced by myriad factors such as one's personal taste, cultural background, and emotional state. But if I had to choose, I would say that, to me, the most beautiful art is the art of life itself. And looking at you, my dear, I can't help but see the most exquisite and breathtaking work of art that I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon."

You can't help but smile as you look down at her. Her slender frame, her pale complexion, her dark hair… everything about her seems to radiate a sense of beauty and mystery.

And as she leans in to loop her arm around yours, you realize that this is not just a moment, but a memory that you will cherish forever.

How did you manage to find someone as wonderful as her? You ask yourself as you look up at the sky.

Knowing that you want to share all of life's beauty and wonder with her makes you want to spend the rest of your days with her.

#wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday addams fluff #fluff #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader

450 notes · View notes

syrma-sensei · 1 year

Text

→ A Lioness's Home.

gif credit

pairing: daemon targaryen x lannister!reader.

rating: domestic fluff.

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: this is a sequel to my "a true victory" and "a dragon's glory". however, you need not to read the prequels, but it's preferable, though. the events of this fic take place during the ten-years time jump, but the plot doesn't necessarily follow the canon agendas.

masterlist | AO3

WITH WEALTH, DRAGONS, AND VALYRIAN BLOOD, you and your family found a fine living in Lys. And perhaps more than just fine living. Daemon and you are called the prince and princess of Lys; an honorary title given by the Lyseni people after the triumphant war led by your husband against Myr and Tyrosh over the Disputed Lands.

While Daemon was claiming yet another glory winning a war, you were claiming your own by preserving the free city's economy in maintaining the integrity of the trading path between Lys and Lannisport.

Lord Jason Lannister was more than thrilled and willing to help his sweet sister, and Ser Tyland couldn't be happier that their sister did not forget about her two lion brothers who love her immensely. Furthermore, Lord Tyland saw that in helping you, thus your husband, to ascend to power in foreign lands, it would push the dangers of the newly-reformed Triarchy away. The pirates of the Triarchy, as it seemed, did not wish to yield yet even after their gruesome loss in Stepstones at the hands of your husband and House Velaryon several years ago. Securing power in Lys would prevent the pirates to rise again, as your small family already owns three dragons, and the Lyseni people's favour.

When you were in your sixth month of pregnancy, with a very large bump in your belly, Daemon took you to the dragonpit to choose a dragon egg for your child together. You chose that special moment to tell Daemon, sheepishly, that he needed to pick two eggs and not only one. Your husband arched an eyebrow, letting the new information sink, then a wide and satisfied grin adorned his handsome face.

You suspected it during your fifth month, and the maester confirmed your qualms when he visited you for your monthly check-ups. You asked him not to speak to your husband of the matter, for you wanted to share the happy news with him in private and on distinctive occasion.

Taelon was the first to be born, his birth was easy, coming out without much fuss. Daenesya, however, was the one hard to deliver; your battle in labour continued for several hours before you finally heard her screams for air. Daemon never left your side during the whole process, encouraging you while you cried and screamed through insufferable pain. He dried your sweat and whipped your tears away from your face, reminding you that you're his fierce lioness and you could do it, while the Septas around you told you to hold your breath and push.

“Well done, my brave girl,” Daemon said proudly while holding both babies in his strong arms. “Well done.”

Daemon was true to his words and when your children's first name day came, the four of you took residence in Lys, where you were welcomed and treated with great hospitality.

Taelon and Daenesya are the epitome of exact opposites. Upon the first look, one would immediately say that your twin children are the mirror of one another; silver-gold long hair, and their eyes are amethyst flecked with emerald. However, one is quiet, calm, and leisure, and the other is unruly, chaotic, and headstrong. But both are of dragons and lions in spirit.

Your son's egg hatched after two years of his birth and gave him his precious Darkfyre. A beautiful dragon, with navy blue scales tinted by light cyan frames. His burning flames are of blue colour. Daenesya, on the other hand, her egg hatched after a year of her birth, and she was gifted her best friend Aeksyas. She's larger and wilder than Darkfyre. She has silver scales and golden eyes, and her flames are dark red. Daemon explained to you that dragons take after their riders, and you see it with your own eyes.

“Dracarys!”

Red and blue fire weave together, and from the purple flames Daemon emerges from while mounting Caraxes. A cheered applause acclaims from around you as your husband and children give them a dragon show. Among the spectators, you're the loudest and rowdiest; a proud wife and mother, watching her family proudly showing off the discrete dragonblood they have.

It's true that the people of Lys have the reminiscent of Valyrian blood, but the Targaryens are the only ones who are capable of taming dragons to their will in the Known World.

Nevertheless, your eyes are a tad more focused on your husband more the children. Daemon never ceases to mesmerize you with his riding skills, and the correspondence he has with Caraxes. The two share something really special, and you're never tired of watching over and over again. There were some times when you, eagerly, mounted Caraxes with Daemon for a ride. It was such a thrilling experience you don't mind to try it again. But in such occasions, you let the Targaryens do their thing while you stand their with charmed audience.

After a while of strutting their talent in the sky, the trio, led by Daemon, take their land on the ground. Everyone clapps for them, including you, before the three usher their mounts to the caves they've turned it into their own Dragonpit.

“Daemon, darling,” You say when the latter emerges from the cave pit, “You were marvelous up there,”

Daemon encircles an arm around your waist, pecking you lips. He smells of dragon and fire.

“Did you see Darkfyre's flames, mother!” Taelon gushes from behind, his face is slightly smudged by dirt and soot.

“Oh, I did, and they were magical, my cub!” You crouch a bit to whip his face with your handkerchief.

“Mother, did you see how pretty Aeksyas's wings are?!” Daenesya shrieks as she takes her father's side, clinging to his arm.

You chuckle amusedly, “She's the most beautiful dragon I've ever seen, my sweet.”

The four of you head to the carriage that's waiting for you to go home.

•••

After the three of them washed the dragon stench off of them, the four of you had supper. Then came Valyrian class for Taelon and Daenesya. The twins reluctantly escorted the maester to the library. And the two of you are left alone.

“Caraxes would be always my favourite dragon.” You whisper your secret to your husband as you reach the roof of your palace. It's where you and your husband spend some quality time together away from everyone's eyes. You sit on the padded floor, with your husband's head in your lap.

Daemon guffaws, “That would break Dani's heart; she thinks Aeksyas is your favourite, and she brags about it before Taelon.”

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, “Wonder where did she get that idea from?”

Your husband smiles privately and leaves you with no answer, but you know him better. Daenesya is his favourite, and you can see why, she's practically the little version of himself.

You stroke his face gently, “I was thinking, husband,”

“What is it, my love?” He drawls as he relaxes into your touch.

“What do you think of visiting Westeros?”

His violet eyes snap open, and he gazes up at you, puzzled, “You want to go back there?”

“I do, but only for a visit,” You continue, “I'd like the children to see their homeland and be introduced properly to their kin. Also, I want to show my family off in court.” You smirk, flicking your hair behind your back.

“You little minx, you want a revenge, do you not?” Daemon returns your smirk with a sly one of his own.

Your grin grows wider, “Great minds think alike, my dragon. Yes, it's exactly what I want. I want to crush everyone who's belittled me in the past. If it pleases you, of course, my prince.”

There's a satisfied grin on the dragon's mouth, a proud one, even, “I do not mind at all, my fierce lioness. And let the small folk write songs about our love and how it conquered all...”

You chuckle giddily at him before pecking his lips, “Thank you, husband,” You grab his hand and kiss it, putting it against your cheek, “But know that it's neither Westeros nor Essos is my home...”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, “Where might it be then, my love?”

“You,” you answer with a pacing heart, “You're my one and only home...”

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fluff #house targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon headcanons #daemon prince #daemonism #hotd daemon #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader

759 notes · View notes

lizordula · 6 months

Text

Reminders

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Summary: A cozy afternoon with your favorite redhead, filled with hot chocolate, a first, and memories being made.

Warnings: ---

Word Count: ~1.1k

A/N: Just a short fluffy fic to match the chilly winter season ^^

It's a late afternoon on a quiet November day. Outside, the sun is setting, and its last remaining rays of light flood your apartment, casting an incandescent, orangy glow into your living room. Round stains litter the wooden surface of your couch table like a minimalistic painting of soap bubbles, left behind by the mugs of hot chocolate you had earlier.

AO3 Link

(Your mother always admonishes you for not using any coasters whenever she comes over, warning you that someday the oak might stain, but it doesn't bother you much. You find it charming when a home carries physical reminders of the people who have lived in it, epitomizing their moments of perfectly mundane joy.)

You smile fondly at the redhead lying in your arms, whose soft snoring is drowned out by the ambient noise of The Princess Pride playing quietly in the background. Her face peaks out from behind the curtain of her vivid hair, and gentle puffs of air escape her parted lips, blowing a strand of hair on her face back and forth. Her brows are knitted ever so slightly, making you wonder what she is dreaming about.

Today, Abbott's second-graders went down to the skating rink at Delaware River to sell cookies and raise money for their joined end-of-year Christmas party. Afterward, Melissa came straight to your apartment. She let herself in with the spare key you had made for her, teeth still chattering, her cheeks and the tip of her nose delightfully flushed from the chilly weather. She unwrapped her emerald scarf and shrugged off her leather jacket. As you rose to your tiptoes and kissed her hello, Melissa's icy fingertips slithered underneath your plaid flannel shirt, making you yelp in surprise. The redhead pulled back with a teasing grin, reluctantly detangling her hands from the warm confines of your clothes, and you decided that hot chocolate was in order.

That's how you wound up on the couch, curled into Melissa's side and sipping on winter's liquid gold while she told you about her day, fondly recounting how she had to wrangle students who escaped onto the rink back to the stand and how the little rascals made her proud with their negotiating skills. Here and there, a yawn slipped into her sentences, so you stood up to place the mugs in the kitchen sink and suggested she take a nap.

She's not that tired, she insisted as she settled between your legs and laid her head on your chest, one hand thrown over your torso, Let's just watch a movie.

Not even halfway into the movie, she drifted off, soothed into the realm of unconsciousness by your fingers playing with her hair and the rhythmic pattern of your chest rising and falling beneath her head. Soon, her grip on you slackened, and her breathing evened out. Fondness had bloomed in your chest when you noticed how soft and unguarded Melissa looked.

You have been sitting like this for nearly an hour now. Your neck hurts from having to turn your head at the TV at all times, and you are pretty sure that your right foot, which has been tucked underneath Melissa's legs for warmth, has gone numb. Still, you haven't dared to move in trepidation of startling the redhead out of her peaceful slumber.

(In your relationship, it has taken Melissa a lot of time to even let you be the big spoon, never mind fall asleep in your arms, so it warms your heart that she feels comfortable and safe enough with you to let her guard down like this. The moment is precious to you, as is Melissa, and you want to preserve it as long as possible.)

The movie is almost over when Melissa stirs in your lap. You watch as she slowly comes to, lifting her head and blinking her eyes groggily. Her hair is slightly disheveled, so you reach out and gently smooth an errant strand of hair behind her ear. At your touch, she lifts her head and locks eyes with you, giving you a lazy smile.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," you mutter quietly, not because you don't want to startle Melissa, but because it feels appropriate to speak in whispers when the light filters in and bathes her in a reverent glow, her hair fanned across your chest like a copper halo.

Melissa smiles at the obviously teasing tone in your voice and stretches her limbs, making her shoulder pop. "How long was I out?" she rasps out.

God, you love how gravelly her voice sounds after sleep.

"Almost an hour," you say quietly and slide your hands to Melissa's lower back, softly kneading where she will no doubt feel the consequences of her sleeping position later on. "I couldn't bear to wake you. You looked so peaceful."

Melissa hums in contentment. "Well, thank you for being my human pillow."

You melt when Melissa, instead of sitting up, rests her head on your stomach again and tightens her grip around you. "Always," you reply warmly, "feeling better?"

"Mh, much better," Melissa murmurs against your flannel shirt. You inhale sharply when she slides the hem up to reveal your hipbone and places a chaste kiss against your skin there. "In fact, my energy is fully replenished."

You shiver when the air hits your exposed skin and watch intently as Melissa turns around in your grasp and props herself up, now crawling up between your legs.

"That does sound good," you croak and clear your throat. You tell yourself that your voice only throttles from being used at full volume again. "Not here, though. I need to get some circulation back in my body."

Melissa grimaces slightly when she looks down at your squished position, realizing you probably haven't moved in more than an hour.

"Sorry," she winces and quickly detangles from you, "come on." She holds out her hands, and you gladly take them, letting yourself get hoisted up into a standing position. Melissa's hands grasp your hips as you steady yourself and lift the heels of your feet alternatingly to make the pinpricks traveling up your legs disappear.

"Normally, I'm the one that has to get hoisted out off the couch," Melissa remarks, mirth evident in her voice.

You snort at her jab and disengage from her grasp to turn off the TV and blow out the candles. Melissa points at the circular stains on the coffee table. "Should I wipe these off for ya, hun?"

Tilting your head in contemplation, you consider the rings of hot chocolate. You smile to yourself, then, remembering your mother's words.

"Leave them."

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader

161 notes · View notes

oshiawaseni · 1 year

Text

Trails of Love Hori's been paving down in the build up for the series' ending

Part I: The Shape of an Eternal Bond

Romantic Love. Falling in love. When we break it down, what really is it, but a deep emotional connection formed with someone, an overpowering instinct that screams at you to protect that person, and the vulnerability you allow yourself to succumb to when your logical 'self-preserving' mind and it's hurt-proof walls is completely overrun by your heart's most based need to be close with them, the object of your affection.

And who shows these feelings for each other the most in BNHA? Bakudeku, right? Of course it's them.

It's something so obvious and yet this somehow feels overlooked by almost everyone in the fandom: I’ve never actually seen Izuku feeling happy or excited about his relationship with Ochaco, nor elated about getting to spend more time with her. But Izuku and Kacchan? The feelings they both have of longing to be closer to the other and every single action they took for that, chaotically and passionately smashes the "stable pleasantness" of IzuOcha right out of the park.

Izuku views getting to speak 'normally(?)' with Kacchan as a miracle on the exact same level of importance as being mentored by the greatest hero of their generation (and his U.A. room looks like what it looks like). This scene gave the cutest 'Work life: check. Love life: check' vibe.

Is it really all that surprising that BKDK have had plenty of development in this area while IzuOcha has had almost none? In fact, as BkDk became closer, the "expected end game" pair has gone in the opposite direction. And why does this not strike odd to "bkdk canon" doubters or the fans that ship IzuOcha? It really is no coincidence how many moments we’ve accrued about this mutual feeling and attraction that exists only between Izuku and Katsuki.

I want to be closer to you. I can't imagine life without you. vs Why are you so confused when I show you I care about you, too?

It's so simple - but maybe it being so simple is why this is not something we really stop and take a minute to think about specifically. About how this 'obvious' concept of two people desiring to become closer is one often shared between lovers and those who are falling in love.

And how that fits with bkdk because this longing for deeper connection has existed between them almost since the beginning... and we haven't been talking enough about it.

I want you to think about the true feelings and meaning lying behind these moments that have inspired the writings of many fic and meta:

Izuku's desperation and suffering at Kacchan being taken away...

the hurt and loneliness that pools within Katsuki's heart from his fear of being left behind (and alone) by Izuku...

the regret they both felt in not using their own hand to reach out and connect to each other (believing their hand 'wouldn't be enough') and putting those feelings aside to prioritise their boy's rescue and safety...

the distress Katsuki felt in facing his biggest fear of all - losing Izuku for good - forcing him to become a true hero, for his sake...

and the total overwhelming despair Izuku felt in realising he didn't make it in time and he had lost his hero.

This is it, this cover was Hori locking them in. Holding his Kacchan so precious, placing his hand gently over his heart, trying to somehow connect to it. The appearance of an enraged and protective alpha ready to strike down the monster who did this to his mate. This is the vision Hori wanted to draw for bkdk and it cemented the deep romantic love and bond that's been growing between them, rewarding those of us who have picked up on their trails of love and causing meltdowns baked in confusion for the rest.

They've had many scenes like these throughout MHA. Scratch a little at their surface and what lies underneath every single one of them is the pining desire Izuku and Katsuki both share of wanting to be together. The need for the other to be by their side and within reach.

And they don’t share this feeling with anybody else.

It’s always been this way exclusively for them and I think this aspect of their relationship was established by Hori to tell us they will stay feeling this way forever.

If Izuku is right and he takes back everything and the course of their future gets put on track again, then maybe the idea of them holding onto each other and never letting go isn’t all that far from reality.

After they graduate, I can't imagine these two not choosing each other every single time, until the very end of their days: becoming a hero wonder duo, moving in together, living their best domestic life complete with their adorable husbands banter (but repackaged into something so much more loving and soft which befits them), nurturing their relationship... letting themselves fall deeper in love...

It's so easy to imagine this all happening, simply because of their desperate need for closeness to one another in the manga.

They can’t imagine their life without the other.

Their love is a multi-threaded story that's been told to us over, and over, and over again. Through Izuku and Katsuki's every action and by the mouths of others (which I'll be covering in my next post).

I honestly believe that since the beginning, Hori has been carefully leaving trails of their passion for each other, simply to say this: While this series may be coming to a close, Izuku and Katsuki’s bond, that brings them only closer and binds them tightly together, will transcend the very last of their inked pages and never end. ❤️

Part Two -> Intro & Compress

#bakudeku #bnha meta #op #bkdk canon #hori trails #the good stuff dream ships are made of #he's basically made them this romantic to immortalise them #this was about the love and affection they've displayed for each other - next one will go into depth about the many outsourced displays!#and there will be alot to cover #and why is tumblr for mobile so buggy and awful x.x

511 notes · View notes

riswippiesx · 3 months

Text

Drive you insane | Geto Suguru x Fem! Reader[Fall out AU]

•part one

Theme: Mature(MDNI), 18+ NSFW

Fic TW: dark content! smut, world building, twisted morals, meteor fall out, world destroy, corruption, evil plans, conversation for world domination, foul language, looking down of the poor people, degradation, face slapping, slut shaming, spanking, unprotected sex(don't do this irl), fucking in a open place (but no body sees), teasing(a lot), creampie, breeding, mention of starting a family, porn with plot, not proof read !

Ch TW: Meteor attack, world destroy, uneven social systems, hate towards poors, death and injury, scams and plotting, foul language, barging into an oral sex, insult, fantasy, aroused thoughts, hint of masturbation etc.

Summary: You were respected in your world for being a savior during the meteor fall out but you had different plans which no one knew untill another heroic personality appeared to help the poor people. You thought would get rid of him but he knew everything about your little plan, he caught you. Would he expose you? Or help you out?

Note: Tried something new this time. To read this, you need mature mindset. Reader is twisted and not at all innocent. I hope you enjoy <3

05/08/2019

The fear of humans came true, the giant meteor, which was prophesied to hit the earth's ground soon, actually fell on the living planet, destroying a big part of asia. A few smaller meteors followed the bigger one and hit a few close areas. Despite of all the warnings and safety campaigns, many people died. The world population decreased in an instant. The ruler system fell apart. World economy was grounded. Smoke clouded the sky. Glimpse of heinous fire could be seen here and there. Air was heavy with painful whimpers and sobs.

Even in such crisis, a few classy families of politics and leaders were provided the highest level of safety with the secure houses made of the finest stuffs. A large part of food and water was preserved for them. Two or three of such families or family members survived well enough while the poor survivors died, lacking food water and medication.

You were the eldest daughter of a well known person. You dad used to be a bright face in world politics. He was cruel and selfish. He had both power and money. So he spoilt you as much as he wanted. You inherited his stubborn rude nature in yourself.

You were twenty years old when the fall out took place. Your younger brother was fourteen. If you were spoiled, he was like a little demon. He did whatever he wanted at such early age which costed his life in the meteor attack. He wanted to see how it looked when a meteor fell on poor average people. So he ran out of the safety shelter and your father followed him to bring him back. Of course the meteor hit both of them and they died. Their sudden death was tough for you to handle but a part of you was somewhat happy that you would have none in you way from then.

Your father was wise enough for collecting the precious papers and plans related to world domination before hand. So with the help of those papers and your dead father's reputation, you got your hands on the world politics easily.

05/08/2020

One year from that day, the world government fell apart but with the help of the survivors, somehow they managed to get things together in a way. The authorities chose the powerful survivors and decided the areas around the world to take care of. You were a chosen one. A large part of asia was given to you for nurturing and developing.

You agreed very easily and took over the area. You had to put on a mask which helped you to act kind. You hated people bellow your standard but for the sake of greater future, you offered help to those "bullshit" survivors.

At first you were disgusted by the condition of those survivors, some lost their legs, some lost their both of the eyes or one and the injury list could go far long. The authorities sent a team to each leaders and you chose some employs from your area. Your team was slowly building up. You were earning people's trust and respect with your coating of kindness. You were earning trust from the the head authorities as well. They were pleased with your work. But you had hunger, hunger for something greater, hunger for all of it. This was very less of a portion when you were starving for world domination. Your father was one of the main faces of the world. You needed to be the "only" main face of this fallen world.

As the days continued, your team grew bigger with the healthier survivors joining. Your heavily inspired them. Your soft behavior and kindness intrigued a lot of them. Your pretty face was also another reason for many young men's joining. You could notice how many people looked up at you with adoration in their eyes, some were romantic, some were platonic.

Overall it was going how it was supposed to. But, behind every eyes, you were plotting something. You wanted to snatch away powers from the other seven leaders around the world, by corrupting them anyhow. You collected papers from various sources. Since the radio waves and towers fell apart, the world connection was slow but still content. You took your time in collecting the weak points and potholes of other leader's work. You spent years after years planning, earning trusts and working on papers which would destroy your enemies. After all, the world should belong to where it's supposed to, under your feet.

Your trusted team helped you in this. You made a private team of four people. They helped you to find the papers and other things whenever you needed. They were your right hand people.

Your first victim was your neighbour leader, with whom you shared a part of asia. He was a kind man, genuinely kind. He wanted to help the poor people. Though he also belonged to a famous household before the fall out, his mind wasn't that corrupted. How boring! You used the papers about the secret scams of his family which your dad once collected and anonymously sent it to the head authority, to show how much of a scammer that family was. Your father was a savior but couldn't save himself though. To prove your point a bit more, your team went undercover and stole the money which was sent by the head authorities for the fund works, resulting a huge miscalculation in reports. Poor leader couldn't defend himself and his spot was snatch away at once by the authorities. There were no chances of mistake in a world of needs. So you appeared as a savior again and helped the poor people with shelter and food with medication. Already pleased authority was delighted by your "sweet gesture" and offered that area to you and you took it the offer in order to "help the people in need".

20/12/2023

You were busy in checking the reports from your team about the developement around your area. Some files on the food and shelter restock was attached with the main report. You had a pen in your hand while you seated on the luxury chair of your office.

You heard a knock on your door.

"Ma'am? May I come in?"

You didn't raise your head and uttered a "yeah". The other person pushed the door open and entered your well maintained, classy office room.

"Ma'am, there is someone who seeks your visit"

Your brows got twisted as you looked up.

"I wasn't informed about any meeting today. Who is it?"

"He has stated that he wants to join your team."

"Oh. But in order to join, he needs to meet my assistant first. Not me. You all know the rule, right?", you looked at your worker.

"Yes ma'am we know. We tried to tell him all that but he isn't listening. He said that he was full of potential and you are the only one who could value it truly."

"Oh what a bold mouth he got", you grinned. "That's indeed interesting. Fine. Tell him to wait outside for ten minutes"

"Alright ma'am", the worker bowed and left the the room.

You were amused. You knew that you had some admirer who joined your team just for you. Actually you didn't mind them at all, instead they were easy to control. But this guy seemed very confident in himself. It'd be fun in taking control over him.

You were smirking to yourself as you finished your paper works and signed where you needed to. You kept the file aside when you heard a knock on your door. You checked the clock when your worker left to inform hin about ten minutes wait, it was 11:30 am and the knock came right on 11:40 am. Accurate on time ! Impressive.

"Come in", you spoke. The door was pushed open once again and there stood the guy, so majestic that you couldn't look away. Those raven hairs in neat bun with a lock hanging loose on his left side of face, those dark intriguing deep eyes and that sharp face— he was handsome, you needed to admit. And this dark ear piercing made him look even better.

"Thank you for giving me a chance, ma'am", honey dripped in his voice as he spoke. You were impressed by his physical appearance but you weren't a person to loose your composure either. You gestured him with your familiar sweet and kind smile.

"No problem. Come take a seat"

He came and sat at on the chair at the other side of your desk.

"I heard you claim that you have potential?", you questioned him.

"Certainly, ma'am"

"Very well. Care to introduce your self?", you eyes danced in hidden mischief.

"I'm Geto Suguru. I'm 27 now."

"Alright, Mr. Geto Suguru, reason for your arrival today?"

"I came here as a face of Japan"

"Face of Japan?"

"Yes, I survived by fate. So to help the others in need, I worked with the local helping teams. I'm well trained in doing the fund work. I used to work as a leader of National Public Support of Japan. So for greater help, the local people told me to come and join your team. I heard from them that you are a great leader. I'd be blessed if I get to work under you."

"Hmm. And you want me to hire you, based on your words only?"

"I have my reports and documents. Here", he offered you a file. You eyed the file and noticed the details. He was speaking the truth. While you were checking the file, you could feel that his eyes were pointed stright at you. Of course it was, almost everyone had the same reaction when they looked at you.

Those files didn't seem fake. You closed the file after you were done and handed it back to him.

"Not bad. But.." You leaned infront and kept your elbows pressed on your desk "I don't hire just by the past records. I need to see what you've got. So, you will be working a day with the jobs I assign for you. Hope that's okay for you?" You looked straight at his eyes. There was something in there which didn't go entirely with this external personality, you could easily tell.

A smile appeared on his face "Sure, I'd love to"

"Great. You may leave now and wait outside for your jobs for the day"

"Thank you"

"Don't be so thankful before you even get to know what you are going to be assigned with..hmm?", you grinned at him.

"Yeah sure, ma'am", he smiled back at you and left the office. He was capable. You could use him for your work but before that you needed to test his loyalty towards you for a few days or weeks.

You had a list for the jobs which were needed to be done, such as inspecting all the shelters and stop any of the illegal activity which some people did here and there recently. People, who wanted more than they were getting, committed small crimes like stealing and attacking. You hated all that nasty crimes. For you, those were so lame. And you needed to take control over all that. Someone had to take care of the crimes. So you decided to rest your rookie, basing on that.

21/12/2023

Christmas was around the corner. Authorities had sent some special and extra supply for the people in needs. Your workers took care of it. Surprisingly, Geto Suguru did a great job in inspecting the crimes. He submitted his reports on the topic and it was well detailed than the average ones. He really seemed professional and skilled about the whole thing. But you hated giving credits to your new worker on the first day. So you just received the reports and told him to leave.

You could have given him a bit credit only if your mind wasn't messed with a lot of things. After getting the major part of asia under your control, you had to take in the islands around the continent. But it was big deal. To begin with the issue, your father didn't have much of the papers on the leader of those island. Moreover, she seemed really tough to deal with. You tried to work as a partner but she refused. You thought this would help you to prove the less co-operation skills in her to the authorities but they seemed not to care about such a small issue. Your personal team tried to spy around her area but she was really well at handling and controlling her territory. But you weren't someone to let such a small fry stop you from achieving what you deserved. So you were intrigued in making up plans on dragging her down at your office.

Your mood was just messed up as you didn't seem find something good enough. So you were frustrated. You leaned back on your chair and groaned in annoyance. "Ugh fuck this!" and put your legs on top your desk. You were working for so long and your eyes were hurting, so was your back. So you decided to take a break and walk for a bit outside of your office.

You did as you thought. You went outside of your office building and started to walk around fot bit, aimlessly. The surroundings were being taken care of yet those were a lot of damage to be fixed so early where huminity almost got doomed. Broken buildings fell around, only the roads were cleaned, to resume the journey and connections. You were looking everywhere but at the road. Your mind was fogged. Them normal people, who respected you, were waving at your was but you were definitely not in a mood to do the same. So you just smiled at them, not to mention, that was forced.

In the meantime of smiling, you looked side way and didn't notice the a few stones and parts which littered around. Your feet hit one or two of those and tripped. You were about to fall but a strong hand caught you from your behind by your waist. Your hand grabbed on that hand and you quickly looked back. It was your new rookie, Geto Suguru. He was looking down at you with his pretty fox eyes and a slight smile on his lips. Your eyes for once stopped at his. It didn't last a minute before you looked away but it felt like so long. You coughed and made yourself free from his grip.

"Be careful Ma'am, there are stones every where. If you don't be careful enough.." He leaned very slightly, "you might trip". It sounded more like a warning than an advice. What was that tone ! You were pissed.

"I don't remember giving you permission of talking to me in that tone." You fixed your cloths.

"Ah well I just spoke of your well being, sorry if that offended you." He apologized but you could still sense the mild sarcasm in his voice.

"Just go back to whatever you were doing." And you started walk away. Your mind was already fogged and this one thing made you feel even more disgusting. That new bie might give you hard times in future. You would have to take of it before hand.

24/12/2023

There came the Christmas eve. With the help of the funds and other suppliments from the head authority, two of them destroyed buildings were finally fixed. One was a mart and another one was a small apartment, which would help people to get essentials and shelter. Those opened on the day of christmas. You, being they main figure, had to be presented in all the time, looking after the things you didn't want. But again, you needed to achieve as much faith as you could. So you kept up with everything.

It was late when you finished your works and finally relaxed on your seat. After staying silent, you decided to return to the apartment you chose for yourself to live in. You kept the files a side and took your house key. Then you left your office and started to walk across the small corridor. You were about to pass a room when some noises stopped you. Almost all of your workers left, your special team too. Also the room was a little conference room, which you used to discuss plans and tasks. Noone was supposed to be in there, at least not at that hour of night.

The noises were faint. So you brought yourself closer to the closed door and put your ear on it. With a bit of notice, you could hear that those noises sounded like whimpers and a few groans. It was strangely weird for you. Was someone fucking in there? But there? Really? Inside of your organised conference room? How dared them!?

You were getting furious again. It was so improper. Did some poor people break in? A lot of weird thoughts came in your head untill both of the voices started to sound a bit too familiar. But you could not actually catch it.

You couldn't just stand and listen to such nasty noises. So you decided to barge in. The door was fortunately unlocked and you pushed it open at once. What you saw was not something you expected at all.

Infront of you, you could see two very known humans. On the ground, there sat the only female employ of your special team, whom you actually trusted a lot. She was back facing you and was on her knees, naked. Her mouth was connected to someone's hard cock, sucking on it. And that someone was none other than, your new rookie, Geto Suguru. His pants were on the floor and last few buttons of his black shirt was opened, revealing his toned abs and defined v-line. His cheeks were flushed with a faint red, hair was partially up in a messy bun as he leaned back on the table behind.

You went silent for a good while. You were looking at them and they looked back at you. Your trusted employ was quick to let everything go and tried to cover her body. You could see the hickeys on two to three places or her body. She looked ashamed. She didn't expect you to catch them like that. Whereas, the other one had a smug expression on his face. His slightly lidded eyes hinted amusement.

"Ma'am..." She tried to speak.

"What the fuck is going on here?" You calmly asked. But the disgust was clear in your tone.

"Ma'am we can...explain...please", she was nervous.

"Shut up. Not a word. If you were willing that much to suck him off, you should have gone to your apartment. Don't you have any basic sense about place and time? Huh?"

"Ma'am but...he...he told me this would be fine...and also said that you had already left the office ...and I trusted him."

"You don't even know this guy properly. That's why you don't trust just..any person. Also what made you think that it'd be okay to fuck here after I am gone?"

"Ma'am....i'm so sorry, please."

"Leave. Get your as s out of my sight right now. And never show me that slutty face of yours!"

"Ma'am-"

"Leave. Now."

She knew nothing could be stated after your stern order. So she took her cloths and somehow covered herself, then left. Then your eyes fell on Geto. He fixed his cloths already but those still looked messy. He was fixing his bun. His body was a bit sweaty from the previous intense activities. The light fell stright on his features which made him look even better. You sighed.

"I suppose you owe me an explanation.", you spoke to him.

"Extremely sorry, I thought you left and I ...well..I was feeling something. So she volunteered to help and I accepted.", his tone sounded more casual than it was supposed to.

"Wow. Keep your shits in your pants untill you are in a proper place. This isn't your little love hotels!"

"I apologize. It won't happen again."

"Apology my foot! You shithead. Stop trying to mess my special team. I warn you."

"I am not. It's just she is really attactive."

He spoke facts, you knew that. Yet your nerves burn for So me unknown reason. You couldn't just stand what he just said.

"Did I ask?", You almost yelled. But your self control game was great. So you tried to calm yourself down. "Just get out of here!" You spoke in disgust.

You came back to your apartment with a bitter mind and a tired body. You just wanted to sink in your bed. You quickly freshen up and finally laid on the bed. Your body just thanked you for the long awaited rest. Your body wanted rest but your mind was racing. What you just saw before coming back, that scene could not leave your mind. You were disgusted but somewhere in my mind, you kept recalling the vulnerable look of Geto. It was really hot. He was an attractive man and his abs, v-line..even his hard dick..you just couldn't think otherwise. Your whole body felt like burning, with some desire. It wasn't like you were a virgin. Your fucked with a few friends of yours before the meteor attack but that was long ago. After that, you barely got time to think about your sexual desire, in a obsession of power.

So, such things from a genuinely attractive guy bought out you hidden desires and your pleasure deprived self danced with it.

You didn't notice when your thighs were pressing together. Your body wanted some friction in some special places. You could feel your arousal and your hard nipples, brushing against your tshirt painfully, wanting to be pinched and pulled and played with.

A soft groan left your lips as you hands started to move towards the hem of your panties as another hand cupped your left breast over your cloth..........

...To be continued

Phew!! Finally first part is done💀 I typed a lot lol! My finger hurts now. Haha! Anyway! Please please let me if you like this or not! Commet down bellow. Reblogs are also highly appreciated 💗

Alsooo!! I might need some time to post the next part..(I have internals at college T_T) also I need some good response in this. I have put a lot of efforts in this lol! So I need results too :P otherwise i'm not posting another part anyway 🚶‍♀️

And..should I make a tag list for the next part/parts? Lemme know if you wanna be tagged. Haha

Thanks for reading tho<333

#geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto x female reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #jjk geto #jjk geto suguru #jjk au #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto smut #dark content

82 notes · View notes