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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 1 month

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On Muddied Stones

Part Three of this pirate!au. Stubborn, self-sacrificing love because sometimes we don't realize what's best for the people you love is you. 18+ warning, beginnings of smut that gets cut off, MDNI. Angst and a bit of a cliffhanger. ~2.5k words

Your husband guides you into the store, smiling easily as he leads you towards a mannequin, "Welcome to Vixen's. Mari is the best at what she does."

You tilt your head curiously, "And pirates would know which seamstresses are the best?"

He laughs a little, "She is the best designer, treasure, you'll see," and he lowers his voice to lean down and whisper, "But she's also the best weapons smuggler on this coast."

"Oh," you murmur, surprise pitching in your voice.

He grins widely at you and pulls your hand up to kiss your fingers, "Pick out anything you want, love, I'll be right back." You watch quietly for a moment as he steps away and disappears behind a curtain leading to the back of the store.

You start to busy yourself by picking over materials and colors of the displayed clothes, eventually settling on a dark gray, cotton cloak with a hood. It will suit the purpose of blending in with a crowd. You fidget with the material between your fingers, lost in thought.

"Is that all you picked?" Jason's voice draws you to attention and your gaze flicks to his.

"It's all I needed," You tell him, eyes trailing to the women gracefully walking out from behind the curtain. She gives you a knowing smile and a wave.

"Ah, I figured as much. Mari will have some things sent to the ship for you," he says idly, taking the cloak from your hands.

"Things?" You question, "But I don't need–"

"You do need, my love," Jason cuts in, gently pulling the cloak around your shoulders and fastening the clasp. "I took you to my ship with nothing but the clothes on your back. Allow me to remedy that, and have things of your own brought to our cabin."

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the crown on your head, then draws the hood up, voice fond, "A perfect fit. Do you like it?"

"I do, thank you," you answer softly, and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"Good, I'm glad you approve, darling," Jason says, tracing his thumb over your cheek affectionately, "I would keep you like this forever, if I could, but I believe we have more things on your list to buy."

"Don't we have to pay?" You ask, eyes darting over to Mari, who offers you a sly smile and a wink.

"All taken care of," Jason answers, nodding to Mari as he takes your hand, leading you back out onto the streets. "Shall we get your hair pins next, my love?"

"I– yes," You mumble, reeling slightly at how sweet this is. How much of your husband you still recognize in the man most people fear. It makes guilt coil in your stomach, at the thought that you've been planning to leave. But how much can a few weeks of kindness make up for years of separation?

He squeezes your hand, and leads you along to a stall with a variety of scarves and pins and handkerchiefs, "Here, treasure. Take your time."

You pick over the hair pins slowly, selecting three. A simple, glossy black pin. A shiny silver pin, dotted with glistening red gems. And pin engraved with a golden snake, its eyes made of piercing green emeralds.

"And this one," your husband says, holding up a pin with a rose etched from silver.

You falter, "Our gardens had roses. You planted them after we got married."

"Aye, I remember," he says fondly, and carefully sets the pin in your hair. He nods in approval and digs a few coins out of his leather pouch, dropping it in the vendor's hand, all without taking his eyes from you, "You look beautiful."

He steps closer to you, guides you to his body with his hands on your hips, "So beautiful. I always remembered you in our garden. Surrounded by flowers, petals in your hair. I'd imagine children running past your skirts, a babe in your arms. And your laughter. Always you smiling." He's rambling, his voice gentle as he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

You exhale shakily at the thought of children, "It's a shame we can't have a garden on the ship."

He laughs and nuzzles your throat for a moment before pulling back, "Mm. Yes, treasure, a shame. I could build you a new garden, a little place to keep your flowers. Would you like that?"

You blink at him, and the pins in your pocket feel heavy. You're keenly aware of the rose in your hair. You feel your voice come out unsteady, because you've always been able to see that life with him, "What about your ship and crew?"

He lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, "My ship will be fine. My crew is more than capable of keeping her afloat. And I've enough gold to keep us comfortable for the rest of our and our children's lives."

You're not exactly sure what to do with that, "I guess raising children on a pirate ship might not be the best environment," You murmur and your eyes fix on a merchant's caravan for a moment.

He laughs, his hand settling on the small of your back to lead you to the next stall, "We can have both love. A few weeks at sea, a few in your garden. There's nothing I wouldn't give you. Now, books next, darlin'? Something to fill your lovely head and the ship's library?"

"The ship has a library?" You ask curiously, wondering if you had missed it when you were exploring his ship.

"I'm having one built," he drawls, like it's nothing at all.

"You're- What? Where?" You stumble out, trying to figure where there could possibly be room on the ship for a library.

"In one of the storage rooms, treasure, it wasn't being used anyway. Ah, here we are," Jason nudges you towards a vendor with more books than you've ever seen, effectively ending your line of questioning, "Pick out whatever catches your eye. I'll be right back."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you watch as he lazily heads over to women selling baskets.

You hastily pick out the first book that looks interesting, and Jason raises an eyebrow at you when he strolls back to your side, "Only one book, love?"

"Just one is fine," You answer, reaching to take the basket.

He moves the basket from your reach, "Pick out a few more, darlin'. You're not being greedy. It'll be good to have something to do at sea, right?"

He watches you closely as you nod, and go to pick out two more books a little more carefully, "Good. Now pick out two more."

You frown, "This is enough."

"Two more, treasure," he says softly, reaching for the three books in your hands. He pulls them from you gently and sets them in the basket, "go on."

He hums in approval when you pick out two more novels, and he drops coins in the old vendor's hands. He takes the books from you, "Very good, love. What did you want next?"

"That was everything," You answer quietly.

He smiles brightly, "Then, there's a bakery I'd like to show you. They have croissants, love, with chocolate on the inside. But, first," he says, mischief glinting in his eyes as he leads you away from the marketplace, and into an empty alley.

He places the basket on the cobblestones and gently pushes your hood back, admiring your face as you watch him with confused eyes, "What are we doing, Jason?"

"This," he mumbles, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. It catches you off guard, and he kisses you again and again until you're both panting, "so perfect, my treasure." He trails kisses up to your ear, nipping at your skin, "so clever and lovely and sweet."

"Jason," You protest as he starts to lift your skirts. He hums softly, kissing your throat as he turns you around to face the wall, pressing his stiffening cock to your backside.

"Jason," You try again as he traces his fingers up your thighs, exploring and relearning what makes you shiver.

"You're trembling," he notes, pressing more kisses along your neck, "Don't worry, love, I've got you."

"Someone could see," You mumble, eyes darting as you brace a hand against the wall, his weight behind you making you unsteady.

"Let them," he says simply, and the sound of his belt clinking makes you tense.

"Jason– wait, I–" You stumble out and he freezes, fingers stilling against your thighs and mouth leaving your skin, "I feel like a whore."

He makes a choked noise and drops your skirts, turning you back around with panic in his eyes, "Love, no, I would never– the last thing I want in the world is to make you feel that way. You're my partner, not some wench," he says your name, strangled and pained, "I love you. I swear it. I wasn't planning to– this was the first secluded spot I could think of, treasure. All I ever think of is how much I want you by my side. This wasn't supposed to hurt you. I never want to hurt you."

"I'm not hurt," You mumble, embarrassment and unease settling in your stomach as you avoid his eyes.

"Love," he breathes out, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," You say quickly, adjusting your clothes and cloak, "I– this is what your life is, isn't it? Danger and thrills and all that comes with being a pirate."

He frowns, reaching for you, starts to say your name. "Will you take me to the pastry shop?" You cut him off instead.

He studies you, concern and apologies written clear on his face. He then nods slowly, and bends down to pick up the basket filled with your books, "This isn't– treasure, I've only ever been with you. You know that, right?"

You nod, "I know."

Jason doesn't quite look like he believes you, but offers you his hand hesitantly. You don't miss the way his shoulders drop in relief when you take it, "The bakery, then," he says gently, leading you slowly through the winding alleys and back onto the streets lined with stores.

"Jason," You call, pausing outside an expensive looking shop.

His gaze snaps to you immediately, voice eager yet careful, "Yes, love?"

You gesture to the store, "They sell rings."

His eyes light up and he steps closer to you, "You want me to buy you a ring, love?" He exhales softly when you nod, and he lifts your hand to kiss your wrist.

"Can I wait out here? With the books? I'd like to sit on the bench. And, ah, be surprised by what you pick," You say, drawing out your words.

"Of course, darling. Anything," he agrees easily, immediately guiding you to the bench and placing the basket next you. "I won't be long." He hesitates again, before bending down placing a tender kiss to your cheek.

You watch as he disappears into the store, and every fiber of your being knows this is your only chance. If you're ever going to leave, to let him go so both of you can move on, now is all you're ever going to get.

It makes you sick with guilt, thinking of the way he looks at you with adoration, but he's in love with a memory of the past. He should be focused on his future. He's a pirate lord now, and he has a full life, a new family, and new adventures where you don't fit.

To tie him to a life of flower-filled gardens when you've seen first hand how much he loves the salt and sea, is something you could never do.

You stand on shaky feet. You leave the basket of books on the bench, you take the hair pins. Jason will look for you. His crew will look for you. He might even think you've been kidnapped. So, you have to be clever. You've always been clever.

You force a practiced, perfect smile to your face, one you've worn for the past two years around Gotham's finest nobles. You approach a young woman, "Excuse me, Miss? I love your cloak, would you want to trade it for mine?"

She looks surprised, but when her eyes dart over you and lock on the insignia engraved on the fastening of your cloak, she seems much more interested, "Oh? That's– a cloak from Vixen's?" You nod innocently, and she smiles greedily, "yes, let's trade."

You both unpin your cloaks, and as you walk away, drawing the light gray material over your head, you hear her chirp about how naive people from outside Star City are, how they don't appreciate how hard it is to get any clothes by Mari.

You have to be fast. You've learned how to be fast, to disappear into crowded streets during the years Jason was gone. It's not long before you're standing in front of an elderly man ticking off items on a list. "Sir?"

He looks up at you kindly, but looks can be so deceiving. It's a risk you're willing to take, you decide, and force back the thoughts that it's unfair to be testing your husband in this way. You hadn't meant for it to become a test, but in a way, it is.

Lies spill easily from your tongue, "I heard your wagons are traveling to a village near my sister's home. Is it possible I could pay for passage to ride with you?"

He smiles at you, eyes still soft and kind, "of course, Miss. There's room. You're welcome to sit in the wagon," he offers you an aged, calloused hand, and you take it as he helps you into the wagon.

"Thank you," You murmur, grateful you didn't have to steep to bargaining with the hair pins just yet.

He nods, voice soft and knowing, "We'll be leaving in just a moment, Miss," he draws the canvas of the wagon closed, and you settle yourself between boxes and sacks of goods.

You busy yourself with picking at your sleeve as the caravan starts to move, the rumbling and shaking doing nothing to calm your nerves. You keep your head down, and wonder if he's even noticed you're gone.

The horses whine and cobblestones turn to dirt roads, the sounds of the city grow dull. You risk a glance out the wagon towards the port city. There's no smoke from fires, no screams or alarms raised.

It had been so easy. So painfully simple. And there's no way for him to track you down. No way for him to know if you're still in the city, on ship, or in a carriage. There's no trail for him to follow. No lighthouse that leads to you.

Tears start to spill down your face before you even realize you're crying. You tug your knees to your chest. You're heading inland, far from any ports where ships could chase you. If you went through enough towns, you'd be impossible to trace.

You could disappear almost entirely. And why would he look for you? Abandon his crew and the sea to find you?

It was for the best, you tell yourself as you muffle your tears into your traded cloak, for both you. It had to be done. You had to leave.

There was never any other choice for either of you, than to end the dying chapter.

Part Four | Even More Headcannons

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #18+ mdni #pirate!au

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therealcocoshady · 1 month

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POV : You’re Marshall Mathers’s girlfriend and he worships you

Author’s Note : Hi guys ✨. I feel like it’s been a while since I last published something on here. Enjoy this little blurb I wrote. It’s kind of random but I think it’s kind of cute still 💕.

Marshall Mathers doesn’t really enjoy being treated like a king wherever he goes. He knows people give him special treatment out of respect, because he is a huge fucking superstar, but he doesn’t really care for it. He’s just a normal dude at heart, you know ? He likes it when things are kept simple. He’s not a huge fan of the deference, of people practically bowing and curtsying to him because he is Eminem. It’s weird.

But when it comes to you ? People better treat you like the absolute monarch that you are. This man will not accept anything less for the woman he loves. You are his sun. His days start and end with you. You are a deity he worships day and night and people better put some respect on his lady’s name.

He is not giving you the princess treatment. No. This would be good enough for any peasant. If he could, this man would build altars and monuments for you. You are his religion. Your birthday and the anniversary of your first date are holidays he refuse to work on. Doesn’t matter if he’s offered hundreds of thousands of dollars for a ten minutes performance, he simply refuses to be away from you on those days. And if you so much as utter an « I need you », this man will drop absolutely everything. He’s done it in the past and he absolutely has no regrets about flying for five hours on a day off from tour to be able to surprise you at work after you mentioned it was « so hard being away » from him. He is usually mindful about climate change but for you, this man will turn into Taylor « taking my jet for a ten minutes flight » Swift. He literally doesn’t care about the world burning as long as there is a smile on your face. Marshall is not a big spender but for you, he doesn’t care about numbers. His goddess deserves the very best and, thank God for that merch money, he is able to give it to you. He’s not a diva but he demands the very best for you. He couldn’t care less about the water brought to him in his dressing room before a performance. But he makes sure it’s your favorite brand. Same for snacks. If he has to fly someone to another country to get something for you, he absolutely will. In his mind, it’s the least he can do for the woman who blesses him with her presence. He is almost offended when someone fails to greet you properly and he absolutely is when someone straight up disrespects you. If he could, he would fight duels in your honor. Somehow, you managed to turn this stoic individual in the utmost gentleman. When he’s by your side, you will never be caught walking on the wrong side of the pavement, having to hold your own bags. He’d rather die than have that. But you’ll never be caught. Because he protects you like you’re the most precious treasure there is. He’s never caught in your presence, because he doesn’t want to have you plagued by the media and harassed by fans and, yet, he manages to show you off. In private, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s head over heels with you. Your name is on his lips constantly, and the way he talks about you shows just how devoted he is. At first, people close to him got a little worried. Who were you ? What were your intentions ? It seemed like you were out of nowhere. Walked into Marshall’s life one day and, from then on, he was addicted. They had every reason to be suspicious. And then, they met you. And they understood. They got to witness the genuineness of your interactions, how your eyes mirrored Marshall’s devotion, the way he leaned into your touch so naturally and just how you seemed to heal the parts of him that had been left raw. For the first time in forever, they saw him at peace. Not merely content. Happy. They expected to hate you, because what kind of high maintenance brat has the most stoic man they ever knew act like a puppy ? Only, they couldn’t. It wasn’t quite clear how things worked out between you and Marshall and, in hindsight, it was none of their business. But they couldn’t hate you when it was clear as day that « Em » as most call him, had finally found a safe space. So you won them over as well, and they gave you the princess treatment.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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lumiambrose · 3 months

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kaiser x gn!reader, fluff

tw: kaiser, very scuffed german (i refuse to believe that my german is any short of perfection), not proofread!

translations at the end!

today kaiser has decided to whisk you away from your day to day routine for whatever he may have planned. he had that signature smirk on his face, the one that promised something exciting and extravagant (or headache inducing). "come on, get ready," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "i have a surprise for you."

you couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. sometimes, his arrogance turned into something charming, it was almost endearing the way he got to you. you quickly grabbed your things and got into his car, your heart fluttering with anticipation.

the drive was filled your light banter and the background music of your mixed playlist. he glanced at you occasionally, making sure you were just as excited as he was. "i know you've been eyeing something special, mein schatz," he hinted, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

eventually, you arrived at an upscale boutique, the kind of place where everything screamed luxury and exclusivity. kaiser led you inside, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. the staff greeted you both with a mix of respect and awe, offering to prepare some champagne while the two of you browsed the store.

"pick anything you like," he said, gesturing to the array of elegant clothes and accessories. "you deserve it."

you browsed through the racks, occasionally glancing at kaiser. his eyes followed you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. he enjoyed watching you revel in the luxury he provided, knowing that he was the one making you happy.

after selecting a new pair of heels, kaiser insisted on buying a few more items that caught his eye. i mean, what good is a new pair of heels without a new outfit to match. and of course you need a matching bag too. he wanted nothing but to spoil you rotten. "für dich, meine liebe, ist nur das beste," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

after kaiser finished the payment, you left the boutique happily with kaiser following suit carrying your bags. before heading home, the two of you decided to drop by the cafe opposite the boutique. once you ordered and settled down into your booth, kaiser handed you a small box. inside, nestled among delicate tissue paper, was a beautiful necklace. it was an elegant pendant with a diamond in the centre. "just a little something that reminded me of you," he said, his voice softer, more genuine.

you felt a rush of emotions, the weight of his love and the extravagance of his gesture overwhelming you. "thank you, kaiser," you whispered, your eyes meeting his.

he leaned in next to you, his lips brushing against your forehead. "i'll always take care of you," he murmured. "you're the most important person in my life, vergiss das nie, liebe."

as the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and kaiser sat hand in hand after your successful shopping trip. at the end of the day, these moments were the ones you'd cherish forever. kaiser's love, though wrapped in arrogance and superiority, was undeniable. he had a way of making you feel like the centre of his universe, and for that, you loved him even more.

translations + an:

"mein schatz" -> my darling (literally translated: my treasure),

"für dich, meine liebe, ist nur das beste" -> for you, my love, is only the best

"vergiss das nie, liebe" -> don’t ever forget that, love

german is not my mother tongue but if i don’t put my knowledge to good use then what point is there even in knowing the language.

ps. sorry if my german offended anyone (it offends me too)

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months

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When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 13: Condemned From The Start] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), death, angsttttttt, more children than usual, Wolfman!

Series title is a lyrics from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 8.1k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy the finale.🦀💚

In the Eyrie, one of Rhaena Targaryen’s three dragon eggs has hatched at last; the creature is small and pink, and she has named it Morning. When Rhaena’s tears fall onto the scales of her diminutive wings, they glitter like flecks of rose quartz. Deep within the snow-laden labyrinth of the Mountains of the Moon, Nettles is in hiding with Sheepstealer; already the nearby clans are bringing her offerings of meat and treasure, axes and clubs and daggers, hairpins carved from the ribs of enemies and necklaces made of bear teeth. Silverwing is settling into a lair on an island in the Red Lake at the northwestern corner of the Reach. Word of this has travelled back to King’s Landing, and Borros Baratheon implores Aegon II to seize Silverwing for himself; but the king does not want a new dragon. He wants Sunfyre back. That grim truth aside, Aegon is unable to trek across the continent to tame the beast anyway. Some days he cannot even cross a room. At the bottom of the Gods Eye, bodies are dissolving into bones, threads of long white hair breaking loose to flow in the currents like weightless strands of spider webs torn free by cold drafts. And only a few miles from the border of the Crownlands—preparing to cross the icy waters of the Blackwater Rush—the army of Northmen camps under a full moon in a clear, indigo sky heavy with stars like glinting coins.

“There are passageways under King’s Landing,” Clement Celtigar says. He stands by the bonfire with his sword in his hand, his face flame-bright and eager, forever licking up drops of the Kingmaker’s approval, a stray cat lapping milk splashed in an alley. Increasingly, Cregan Stark finds him tiresome. Clement is brash and dramatic, forever swearing vengeance, reveling in his newfound position as the head of his house. The Warden of the North has never had to beg for attention, admiration, acclaim. These things come to him like snow falls to the earth in winter: effortlessly, inevitably. Yet Cregan tries to be patient. Clement is soon to be his brother-in-law, and it is dishonorable to fail to extend courtesy to one’s kin. Furthermore, it seems, Clement has his uses.

“Are there really?”

Clement nods. He wears the banner of his house on a strip of fabric looped around his upper arm: crabs red like blood, a backdrop of white like snow. “That monster’s disciples used them to kidnap my sister from the Red Keep. But she fought hard. When we searched her rooms, all the furniture was upturned and the sheets ripped from her bed.”

“She is brave,” Cregan murmurs in agreement, though he is distracted now. The air tastes like smoke and ice, the wind rubs raw spots into the soldiers’ faces. They are arriving just in time. The depths of winter is no time to wage war. Cregan Stark imagines how you will greet him when he liberates you: a desperate embrace, hands that refuse to let go, whispered gratitude and breathless kisses on his earth-stained knuckles, bones of steel softened by the innate weakness of womanhood. You will love him, of course you will, fervently and entirely. Then when the realm and succession are secured, the Kingmaker will take you North and wed you in the tradition of his people, under the heart tree where the Old Gods can witness it. And then there will be the wedding night. In Cregan’s understanding, women receive little pleasure from the act itself. It is a burden they bear for the men they love, for the children they are divinely tasked with bringing into existence. Cregan Stark intends to alleviate your suffering in this regard as much as possible…yet he has already begun to choose the names of the sons he will make with you. He especially likes the sound of Brandon, sturdy and grounded and thought to mean leader or prince. “This is the last night your sister will ever spend in the clutches of the Usurper.”

“Praise the Seven.” Then Clement adds diplomatically: “And the Old Gods too, of course.”

“It’s the end of the world,” Cregan Stark says, gazing up into the night sky where constellations tell the stories men deem worthy of remembering. “And the start of a brand new one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How did you learn to braid hair?” little Jaehaera asks you in her lilting, reedy voice like a bird’s. You are sitting behind her on the floor in Alicent’s bedchamber. Nearby, Autumn is flipping through a child’s book with Rhaenyra’s ever-solemn son, murmuring as she points to colorful illustrations of ravens, dolphins, bears, dragons, crabs. They are learning to read together.

“My sisters taught me,” you tell the princess. Firelight turns her silver hair to gold, her pale skin to flames. Logs crack and pop as they melt to glowing embers. Alicent glances over at you and sighs despairingly. The dowager queen, so thin she might disappear, is hunched in a chair by the fireplace. She has an unshakeable, rattling sort of cough that reminds you of how Sunfyre sounded on Dragonstone when he was near the end. Her long auburn tresses are falling out in handfuls. She will not survive the winter, this is a certainty.

“You have sisters?” Jaehaera says, surprised. “How many?”

You smile faintly as you weave her hair into one thick braid like the kind Aemond once wore when he went to battle. “Three. Piper, Petra, and Penelope.”

“Where are they now?”

“Back on Claw Isle, where I came from. With our mother.” Mourning Father, mourning Everett, writing letters to Clement to keep his spirits high as he and the Warden of the North march towards King’s Landing to slay the Greens’ king and bind me to a different man’s will.

“What’s Claw Isle like?” Jaehaera asks with a child’s clear, boundless curiosity.

“Rocky, misty, grey. But the ocean is beautiful.” You think of Aegon’s eyes, the same as his daughter’s, a murky storm-blue that is deeper than it looks.

“What brought you here?”

You consider this before you answer. You see it, you feel it: cinders like dark snow in the air, Aemond’s iron grip on your forearm. “When your father was burned at the Battle of Rook’s Rest, he needed someone to help heal him. Your uncle Aemond found me.”

“And he asked you to stay with us?”

He would have slit my throat if I said no. “Yes, he asked very politely, as any gentleman would. And of course I agreed. I wanted to make the king strong again. I wanted to take his pain away.”

Jaehaera stares down at her tiny hands, palms crossed with lines that are long and shadowy in the shifting firelight. She does not speak of Aegon. She does not know him, and he frightens her: the burns on his skin, the suffering in his glazed eyes. She has no memories to impress his true character upon her. If she does not make them herself, she will believe whatever she is told. “I miss Aemond. I miss Daeron.”

“I know, sweetheart.” They were formally laid to rest yesterday on two funeral pyres. Daeron’s bloodied, charred, seafoam green cape was burned to ashes on one. All that was left of Aemond—his favorite books, his quills and ink, small leather eyepatches from when he was a boy—were torched on the other. “I miss them too.”

Jaehaera’s braid is finished. You reach into a pocket of your emerald green velvet gown to retrieve what you have brought for her: a thin golden chain necklace with Aegon’s ring as a pendant. He can’t wear it anymore. His fingers are too swollen. “What is this?” Jaehaera says as you place the chain around her neck. She lifts the ring and peers at it, gold wings and jade eyes.

“It’s supposed to resemble Sunfyre,” you explain. “Your father loves you very much, Jaehaera. He wanted you to have this ring and keep it with you always.” Aegon didn’t say that; he rarely mentions Jaehaera at all. Sometimes you think he forgets she exists. But she is a part of him, she is his legacy, and you cannot look at any piece of her without seeing the man you love.

“He gave it to me? Like a gift?”

“Yes. A gift.” A gift, an inheritance, a relic, a reminder.

Jaehaera turns around and looks up at you hopefully, vast wave-blue eyes like winter oceans. “Do you think I’ll have another dragon someday?”

Her own infant beast, Morghul, was killed in the Dragonpit before Rhaenyra fled the city. “Maybe,” you tell her. “There are eggs that could hatch someday. And there are a few unclaimed adults left, Silverwing and the Cannibal. Perhaps you’ll tame one.”

She wrinkles her nose in confusion. “What’s a cannibal?”

Someone who murders, devours, fuels their body to the detriment of their soul. “Someone who eats their own kind. Like a dragon who feeds on other dragons.”

“So just like in the war. Dragons killing dragons.”

“Exactly,” you say, a shiver crawling down your spine. “Now go show your new necklace to Grandmother.”

Jaehaera wobbles to her feet and dashes across the firelit bedchamber to where Alicent is slumped in her chair. “Look, look! It’s Sunfyre!” you hear Jaehaera chirping. Alicent examines the ring—skeletal hands trembling, large dark eyes slick with tears—and dutifully fawns over it, telling the little girl how beautiful she looks, how brave she has been. Then she bundles Jaehaera into her boney arms and holds her like she’ll never let go. Autumn catches your gaze from the other side of the room, and when you leave to return to Aegon she follows.

“What is your plan if the Greens lose the battle?” she says in the hallway under an arc of grey stones. Her tone is urgent, her hazel eyes sharp. Everyone knows the Northmen are within days of King’s Landing. Borros Baratheon—a large, loud, abrasive man, but with a bottomless appetite for combat—and his soldiers will march out of the city tomorrow to meet Cregan Stark’s army on the fields of the Crownlands, sparse and grey with winter. The Lord of Storm’s End has spent hours locked in the council chamber discussing strategy with Larys Strong, Corlys Velaryon, and the misfortunate yet courageous Tyland Lannister, maimed by his months of torture at the hands of the Blacks.

“We won’t.” We can’t.

Autumn slams her palm against the wall behind you; the sick thud of flesh against stone reminds you of the day Helaena died. “Wake up. We might. You’d better have your options figured out.”

And you recall Larys’ words on Dragonstone: I think it’s time for you to consider what your options are if a Green victory no longer appears to be viable. “We’ll run,” you say weakly. “We’ll take Aegon and we’ll escape through the corridors under the Red Keep, just like he did before. Cregan Stark will kill Aegon if he finds him. I can’t let that happen. We’ll have to run.”

“Run where?” Autumn snaps pointedly, pushing you towards a conclusion you refuse to acknowledge.

“I don’t know.”

“Where? Where could we go that is beyond the grasp of your wolf if he seizes the capital?”

“Dorne, Essos. Somewhere, anywhere.”

“The king won’t survive a journey like that.”

You cover your face with your hands, feel the biting cold of snowflakes melting in your hair, see the stains of earth on your thighs as Cregan Stark forces them apart. How can I lie with a man who hailed the deaths of people I loved? How can I spend the rest of my life listening to him being called a hero for killing Aegon? How can I give him children? How could I love a baby that was half-made of him? “We ran before. We’ll have to do it again.”

Autumn scoffs. “You have no idea what it means to be a woman on your own in the world. What will you become without a great house, without protection? A prostitute? A peasant? Will you eat scraps covered with rot or mold? Will you live in a tree? Will you beg some family to take you in? And then when the father who is oh-so-gallant in daylight starts fumbling under your blankets once the candles are blown out, will you let him inside you? Or will you fight him off and risk a blade in your guts, your throat? You have no fucking idea what it’s like out there.”

“I don’t care what happens to me if Aegon’s gone.”

“You would abandon Jaehaera? You would abandon me?” Autumn demands. “You speak for us now. You are the only one who can. Our fates are twisted up with yours.”

That’s true. And I promised Helaena I would look out for her daughter. You can’t imagine a life without Aegon; there was a time when he was only a name—and an infamous one, a terrible one, soulless and monstrous—but now he has broken down the eaves of what you were once resigned to call your life and painted colors in the sky you’d never glimpsed before, never even dreamed of. You ask Autumn with genuine, painful bewilderment: “What is the point of learning that something exists only to have it taken away? Why would that happen? Where is the justice in it, where is the reason?”

Autumn smiles, sad and patient. “Ah, this is an affliction of the highborn. You still believe that there is a design, and that life has some amount of fairness in it. There is no divine judgment being passed, my lady. There is no god weighing the worth of your dragon or your wolf or yourself. Life is random, and it is ungovernable, and it is very often cruel. And that makes it all the more remarkable that you knew the king for the time you did. That you ever met him.”

It wasn’t enough. And I can never go back to who I was before. “I’m sorry. I should not complain to you. Your losses have been terrible.”

“It is no contest,” Autumn replies, weary now. “But I should go back to check on the children. They need me.”

“No. They love you.”

And now she beams, sparkling eyes and copper ringlets. She doesn’t need to say it, you can both feel it in the winter-cold air. She loves them in return. She loves them fiercely. As long as they live, she will have reasons to.

When you reach Aegon’s bedchamber, Grand Maester Orwyle is just leaving. He bows to you and grins, pleased that you have both survived the fall and retaking of King’s Landing. He is haggard from his months in the dungeons when Rhaenyra ruled the capital, but he endured. Who would have guessed at the start of this war that the old man had more years left than Aemond or Daeron or harmless little Maelor? You wait in the hallway for the maester to amble sluggishly by, but then when he is gone, you peer through the slit of the half-open door to see that Lord Larys Strong is speaking to Aegon, who is propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows and wearing only his cotton sleeping trousers. He is thin, frail, ghostly pale with the exception of the scars that are a mosaic of white and scarlet and bruise-like violet. Aegon and Larys have not noticed you. You linger just outside the doorway, watching, listening.

You can take care of Aegon as much as you wish now: feed him, clothe him, clean sweat from his brow, dose him with milk of the poppy, rub rose oil into his scars, stretch his legs, test the heat of his skin for fever. He’s too weak to stop you. He can’t walk, can’t stand, can’t stay awake for more than an hour or two at a time, can’t even pour his own wine or milk of the poppy; the glass bottles are too heavy when full. Yesterday, Aegon had to be carried outside in a litter to see the remnants of his brothers burned on the pyres. And he had exchanged a brief, somber glance with Autumn that you neither anticipated nor understood. He acknowledges her so rarely. And yet her small hazel eyes had been alarmed, knowing.

Larys is saying with a grave expression and his restless hands propped in the handle of his cane: “Lord Borros Baratheon is asking for your assurance that as soon as the war is won, you will take his eldest daughter Cassandra as your wife.”

Aegon stares at him, incredulously, impatiently. Aegon has not called you his wife in the company of others since his homecoming. You do not ask why. You already know. It is not because his intentions have changed; it is because if he is not the victor, your life is in less danger as his captive than as his queen. “Surely even a man as brainless as Borros can surmise that there would not be much benefit for the lady now. I am a worm. Useless, pathetic, deformed, no longer virile.”

“He is willing to take the chance, I gather. And he is placing his eggs in more than one basket. He would like another daughter, Floris, to be married to me.”

“Seven hells,” Aegon mutters. Then he turns determined. “I cannot marry another. I won’t do it. I am claimed already, body and soul.”

“I fear how enthusiastically Borros’ men will fight for you if you do not agree to the match. He is risking his life for your cause. He will expect generous repayment.”

Aegon is quiet for a long time. He stares fixedly at his bedside table: a full cup, a large glass bottle of milk of the poppy. His dagger is still there from when you cut and braided his hair for him this morning; he cannot do it himself anymore. At last Aegon says, almost too low for you to discern from the doorway: “He’s not cruel, is he?”

“Who? Borros Baratheon?”

Aegon glares at Larys. “No.”

After a moment, Larys realizes what his king means. “Cregan Stark isn’t cruel. I’ve heard many whispers from many mouths, but I’ve never heard that.”

“Look at me. Don’t lie to me.”

“He isn’t cruel,” Larys says again. “Perhaps the truth is worse. He is measured, competent, merciful, wise. He is honorable. The Manderlys want to torture everyone and the Boltons itch to sharpen their flaying knives but Stark forbids it. He respects the laws of war. He tries to avoid the slaughter of noncombatants. He forbids his men from burning farms or raping women. He is devoted to the woman you call your wife. He takes no mistresses, visits no brothels. Cregan Stark is not a monster. He’s not soulless. He’s just on the wrong side.”

Aegon nods slowly, then his face breaks into a humorless smirk. “Tell Borros Baratheon that I’ll marry whichever daughter he wants me to when the war is over. I’ll marry all four if that is his preference, and bed them all on the wedding night too, one right after the other. Agree to anything he asks for. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

It doesn’t matter because none of it will ever happen, even if the Baratheon army does win the Iron Throne for the Greens. It doesn’t matter because Aegon does not believe he’ll still be here in a month, or two weeks, or perhaps even days.

But he can’t mean that. He’s not thinking clearly. He’s confused, he’s exhausted, he’s in pain, you tell yourself, before remembering that Aemond said it first.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Larys is subdued, sorrowful. He bows deeply to his king. Then he turns to depart.

“One more thing,” Aegon says, gesturing to something on the side of his bed you can’t see from where you’re standing. “I hate to impose upon you further, but I can’t manage it myself. Can you take that and empty it somewhere? I don’t care where. But you must keep it hidden from my wife. The red-haired girl Autumn knows, and so do the maesters now. They are all sworn to secrecy. Can I trust you to exercise the same circumspection?”

Larys is gaping down at an object that is a mystery to you. He begins to stammer out a reply, stops to collect himself, and starts again. “Yes. Yes you can.”

“Good.”

Larys picks up the object; you are puzzled to discover that it is a chamber pot, white and porcelain. And as he navigates around Aegon’s bed and towards the door where you wait, you see that the vessel is full of blood.

You gasp before you can stop yourself, a razor-sharp inhale of breath that both men hear. They spot you, lurking in the doorway like someone lost, someone far from home. Shock bolts across Aegon’s face, and then frustration, and then defeat, and then profound misery.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, I just knew…I knew you’d be upset and I…I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“How long?”

“It doesn’t matter, Angel.”

“How long?” you ask again. “Just since this morning?”

“Four or five days now.”

“Four or five…?” Your mind whirls like storm winds. He’s dying. He’s really dying. His kidneys are failing and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t cut him open and stitch him back together. There’s no wound to scrub clean with vinegar and then bandage with honey and linen. There’s no brew that can restore the rhythm of his blood and bones and nerves. He’s just dying. That’s all there is. That’s the beginning and the end of it.

“Please don’t cry,” Aegon says, reading your face. “Don’t do that, please don’t, I’ve hurt you enough already.”

His hands stretch out to close the space between you, and as Larys slips from the room you go to Aegon, climb into bed beside him, collapse into him as his arms catch you and rest your head against his bare, scarred chest, his feverish skin mottled with the history of wounds you helped close all those months ago. “I’m sorry,” you sob. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go after Baela and Moondancer on Dragonstone. I should have stopped you. I should have dragged you inside the castle to wait until Aemond and Vhagar could help you. I shouldn’t have let Aemond go to Harrenhal. I shouldn’t have let Daeron fly south. I shouldn’t have let Autumn go back to King’s Landing, and I shouldn’t have let Everett stay there. I shouldn’t have let Helaena leap from the window. I should have stopped Maelor from being sent to the Reach. I should have stopped Rhaenys and the Red Queen from taking flight to burn you in your armor at Rook’s Rest. I should have stopped this! I should have done something! The only good thing I’ve ever had to offer the world was healing but I can’t save anyone, I can’t stop their suffering, I can’t do anything!”

“None of it was within your control, and none of it was your responsibility. I am the king. The fate of my kingdom and my followers rests with me. I wear their spilled blood, not you. I am so full of red I’m overflowing with it.” And he chuckles, sardonic, exhausted. He’s already battling unconsciousness again; you can hear his heartbeat slackening, the slow laborious expanding and contracting of his lungs.

“Aegon,” you say softly, as if afraid to speak it into existence. “What happens if the Baratheons don’t win tomorrow?”

“They will. They have to. There’s nothing I can do for you if they lose.” Then he winces and groans. It’s his back again, his failing kidneys, overrun with so much ruin—burns and breaks and pressure and heartache—that their cadence faltered and then ceased. You grab his cup of milk of the poppy and tilt it against his lips; and how many times have you done this since you met him, burned nearly to death and half-mad at Rook’s Rest? A hundred? Aegon drinks it down, his arms still tight around your waist. They do not loosen until he’s out like a snuffed candle.

You refill the cup on his bedside table with milk of the poppy in case he needs more when he wakes, pick up the dagger you use to cut his disheveled hair, take it to the dresser. And in the cascade of silver moonlight flooding in through the windows, you practice laying the gleaming blade against your wrists, pressing it to the throbbing arteries of your throat, angling the sharpened point of it between a gap in your ribs and towards your racing heart.

Autumn. Jaehaera. Aemond’s child that Alys carries. I still have promises to keep. I still have tasks that cannot be left unfinished.

Helaena’s words surface like a drowned man dredged from the waves: You must whisper into the right ears.

You set the dagger down on top of the dresser and roam to the castle library where Aemond once spent so many hours. You collect a stack of anatomy books and carry them back to Aegon’s bedchamber. There, before the roaring fireplace, you devour them for any scrap of hope, any last resort. You turn pages until one illustration stops you. It is an unclothed man, his major veins etched in blue and his arteries in red, his nerves a faded yellow, his bones white and unshattered, his body a roadmap of the bricks and mortar used by the architects of nature. You have seen this image before. It is the same page Aegon teased you for studying when you were travelling by carriage back to the capital from Rook’s Rest.

You rip out the page, crumple it violently, pitch it into the fire and watch it burn.

~~~~~~~~~~

At dawn, Lord Borros Baratheon leads his men out of the city. You hear them through the glass panes of the windows, closed against the winter chill and flecked with frost: boots marching, hooves of warhorses clomping against cobblestones. They carry with them swords and spears and bows and morning stars like the one Criston Cole was famed for using. Meanwhile, throughout the city, civilians are arming themselves with anything they can find to ward off an invasion of Northmen, creatures they believe to be bestial and mindless. Men carry kitchen knives and clubs fashioned out of bits of furniture or driftwood. Women hide their young children in cupboards and under creaking wooden floors.

“I should be going with them,” Aegon says. He’s just taken another dose of milk of the poppy and is struggling to keep his eyes open. His long, slow blinks close his vacant eyes for ever-increasing intervals. You’ve changed his clothes and cleaned the sweat from his skin as best you can, but he’s burning from the inside out.

“You’re not able to fight, Aegon. Nobody faults you for that. Everyone knows you were wounded in battle.”

“They must think I’m a coward.”

“No, you inspire them. They love you. I love you.”

Aegon doesn’t say it back. He never says it back. He only offers you the same drowsy, mournful phrase of High Valyrian he always does, not knowing that Aemond told you what it means: To your misfortune.

Autumn is with the children in Alicent’s rooms. The castle is tense and as quiet as a crypt—Alicent weeps soundlessly, Larys paces the halls with Corlys and Tyland Lannister, everyone peeks out of windows constantly to see if bannermen of the victor have appeared on the horizon—but she keeps them distracted with stories and games. You cycle between Alicent’s bedchamber and Aegon’s. He is in and out of consciousness; sometimes you perch beside him on the bed, sometimes you lie curled up against him counting the beats of his heart, sometimes you help Autumn read to Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger. It is just after noon when the city bells begin to toll and screams rise from the streets outside the Red Keep. You and Autumn hurry to a window. In the distance, beyond the city gates, there is a swarming mass of infantry, cavalry, archers. Their banners, when you strain your eyes to decipher them, are not the brazen, vivid yellow of House Baratheon. They are night black and an icy, steely grey. They are the colors of House Stark.

“No,” Autumn says, denial in a protracted, helpless exhale. Alicent shrieks, frightening the children. You grab Autumn’s hand and lead her out into the hallway to warn the others if they don’t know already.

Lord Corlys Velaryon comes bounding up a staircase. “There are soldiers down in the secret passageways!” he booms. “Northmen! Armed! I’ve helped our guards bar the doors, but that won’t hold them back forever.”

Autumn looks to you. “Get the children ready to travel,” you tell her. “Find Larys and inform him.”

“Yes, my lady,” she says, and is gone. You sprint in the opposite direction towards Aegon’s bedchamber. You blow the door open like a strong wind, and Aegon startles awake. You rip through his dresser for things he will need: warm clothes, boots, his dagger, bottles of milk of the poppy.

“Get up, Aegon. We have to go. We’ll run, we’ll flee, there are Northmen in the tunnels but we’ll find another way out, we have to try, we have to, if they catch you they’ll—”

“Come sit with me,” he says from the bed, calmly, like you have all the time in the world. He is reaching out for you with one hand.

“What? No, we have to hurry—”

“Angel,” Aegon says. “I need you to come sit with me now.”

Why isn’t he afraid? Why isn’t he frantic? You cross the room with slow, numb footsteps. When you reach the bed, Aegon takes both of your hands in his own. And suddenly you know exactly what he is going to say. You remember what he told his brother in High Valyrian the last time Aemond left Dragonstone. Your voice is trembling and hoarse. Your throat burns like embers. “Aemond was supposed to be here to help us win. But he’s gone. Daeron, Criston, Helaena, Otto, Everett, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Autumn’s baby, so many people are gone.”

Aegon whispers, smiling softly as tears spill down his cheeks, one scarred and the other pure: “I’m not going to get better this time.”

“No,” you moan. “No, Aegon, no. You can’t say that, you can’t tell me that—”

“I’m not going to get better.” Now his palms cradle your face, forcing you to listen. “I’m not. And it’s okay. I’m not angry, I’m not scared. You’ve done everything you could and you’ve bought me more time and I’m so grateful. But I don’t want it to hurt anymore. I’ve been in pain for so long. I’ve been in pain my whole goddamn life.” He kisses you, like tasting something rare and fleeting. His thumbprint skates along the curve of your jaw, memorizing the angles of your bones, the rhythm of your pulse. “Please, Angel. I don’t want to try to run and die on the side of the road somewhere. I don’t want to die with Cregan Stark’s blade at my throat.”

You shake your head, unable to believe, unable to understand.

Aegon glances to the empty cup on his bedside table, to the large glass bottle of milk of the poppy. Then his eyes return to you. “You know how to do it.”

No. Never. But beneath those cold, dark, stormy waters: It would be painless. “I can’t,” you say, overwhelmed with horror.

“Listen, listen to me—”

“No—”

“Angel.”

“I can’t do that to you. Not to you. I can’t, I can’t.”

“When I’m gone, go to Cregan Stark,” Aegon says. “He is an honorable man, he will ensure your survival. He is the only person who can now. He wants to put his mark on the world. He wants to play Kingmaker. Let him. He can decree that my daughter will marry Rhaenyra’s son and ascend to the Iron Throne. He can end the war. Cregan will keep you safe. Tell him that I kidnapped you, that I forced myself on you. Tell him that I wanted an heir with Valyrian blood. Tell him that I was a drunk, a degenerate. Tell him whatever he wants to hear.”

“You would become a monster?”

“To protect you? I would become anything.”

He’s holding you, he’s pulling you into him until you can feel the fever bleeding from his flesh into yours, until you can number the knots of his spine and the ladder-rungs of his ribcage, counting them with your fingers through the sweat-drenched fabric of his cotton shirt. You draw back to look at him, to really look at him, sunken bloodshot eyes and rasping breaths, scar tissue of the body and the soul. You remember the day you met him, how he’d begged to die and been refused, how you brought him back. You postponed a debt, but you never paid it. It’s not possible to ever pay enough. You stack up gold coins in a vault until they touch the ceiling and still the Stranger comes knocking, jangling his purse sewn with scorched skin and chanting: more, more, more.

Aegon glances to the cup again. “How much?” he asks you, hushed like a prayer.

You don’t answer. Instead, you stand and go to the dresser. You open a small wooden door beneath the mirror. Your reflection is a woman you don’t know, someone who walks through fog and memory, someone made of ghosts. You take four clean cups from the cabinet and set them on Aegon’s bedside table. As he watches—eyes glassy with agony, lungs rattling—you fill them all with smooth, pearlescent, lethal liquid, as well as the empty cup that was already there. “Five,” you say, and it sounds nothing like you. “I think three at once would be enough. Five to make sure.”

He sobs with relief, and only now do you realize how badly he needed this. “Thank you. Oh gods, thank you.”

Your own words come back like an echo: I preserve life, I don’t take it. But that was a different lifetime, a different you. Aegon’s fingers are lacing through yours. He is drawing you back onto the bed, he is brushing your hair back from your face, he is kissing the path of tears down your cheeks so he doesn’t waste a drop of you. He’ll never get another taste, another chance; not in this life, not on this earth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the end with you,” he says. “I really tried.”

“I know, Aegon.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.”

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

He looks down at his left hand, then remembers where his ring has gone. He chuckles, darkly, bitterly, dismayed by all the failings he is built of. “I don’t even have anything to give you.” Then he remembers. “My dagger. Can you get my dagger?”

You are petrified. “Why?”

He grins, dull teeth beneath dazed eyes. “I’m not going to hack off a finger or my exemplary cock or something. I promise. Just get it.”

You fetch the dagger and bring it to the bed, and only then do you realize what he means for you to have. He points to it, then threads it through his pale, swollen fingers: his thin lock of hair that you’ve been weaving for him since the day you met. He wants you to take his braid.

“You’ll have to cut it yourself,” he says. “I don’t think I can.”

You hook the blade beneath the top of his braid, and with a few cautious slices of the dagger it is free. You tuck the braid into a pocket of your gown, thick black velvet to guard against the winter cold. Then you lay the dagger on the bedside table and pick up one of the cups filled to the brim with milk of the poppy. Your tears are scalding and torrential; it is almost impossible to see through them. You smooth back Aegon’s white-blond hair as you pour the blissful, deadly brew through his lips and down his throat, hating yourself, knowing it is the kindest thing you can do for him.

Suddenly, when the cup is half-drained, Aegon pushes it away. “You don’t have to be here. You don’t have to watch,” he says. “I can do the rest. Go, now. Right now. If the Boltons or some other house finds you before Cregan does, they might not recognize you. They might not care. You’re only safe with Cregan Stark. He has to find you first.” Aegon takes the cup with one shaking hand and presses a palm to your shoulder with the other. You haven’t moved. You can’t move. “Go. Leave me. Now. Please go. I love you, but you have to go now.”

“I can’t,” you choke out.

“You have to.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

“Angel,” he says tenderly, smiling. “I’ll see you again. Just not too soon.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and you kiss him, traces of milk of the poppy on his lips that deaden the thunderstruck horror faintly, powerlessly, like small clouds drifting over the sun.

“If there’s anything interesting on the other side, I’ll find a way to let you know.”

The dreams, you think. “Okay,” you say again, barely audible.

“Now go. Right now. Go.”

You wipe tears from your face with your sleeve as you turn away from him. You can’t look back; if you do, you’ll never be able to walk out of this room. You take the dagger from the bedside table. Your bare feet pad across the cold floor. As you step through the doorway, on the periphery of your vision you can see Aegon swallowing down each cupful of poison as quickly as he can. It won’t take long to stop his heart. Minutes, perhaps. Seconds. You walk into the hallway. Autumn has just arrived with Jaehaera’s tiny hand clasped in her own. A few paces behind her, Alicent and Larys stand with Rhaenyra’s son. Two orphans without choices, two pawns in a much grander game.

Autumn is panicked. “Where should we go? What should we do?” Then she takes another look at your face. Her eyes go wide with terror. “What? What happened?”

“Follow me.” Your voice is low, flat, dark like deep water. Your eyes flick briefly to Lord Larys Strong. “Keep the boy here. He’s not safe with the smallfolk yet. But the Northmen won’t harm him.”

Larys knows. It’s over. He is devastated; and yet you think a part of him might be relieved as well. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I’m not the queen anymore. I never really was.” You give him Aegon’s dagger. “I don’t think you’ll need this, Lord Larys, but now you have it in the event of any danger. Or in case I can’t convince Cregan Stark to spare you and you decide you’ve had enough of this world. You should get a say in how your life ends. You’ve earned it.”

Then you break away from them and glide through the Red Keep, Autumn and Jaehaera trotting swiftly behind you to keep up. You pass the rookery where Aemond wrote his letters. You sweep through the gardens where Helaena loved to collect her insects. You gaze down to the beach where Daeron landed on Tessarion under a dazzling sun before winter came like a plague to King’s Landing. From inside the castle, you can hear Alicent wailing as she discovers her last child’s lifeless body. What was all of this for? Why did this have to happen? Why didn’t anybody stop it?

Out on the streets of the city, the smallfolk have flocked with their makeshift weapons to defend their homes from the Northmen. But their eyes are darting everywhere and their faces are uncertain as they clutch their clubs made out of the legs of chairs and their rusty kitchen knives. They haven’t decided if it’s futile. They don’t want to be butchered for nothing.

“That’s Autumn!” they shout and sigh, especially the women. “The mother of the king’s bastard son, the one murdered by the half-year queen!” They reach out to skim their hands over Autumn’s gown, her long coppery hair, as if she is a saint or a spirit who can impart good luck upon them, who can change their fates. They fall to their knees to bow to Jaehaera, their king’s only living child, and she blinks at them with benign confusion.

But the smallfolk have a different reception for you. You hear their venomous chattering: “Is that the Celtigar woman?” “Her family put this city through hell.” “They served Rhaenyra.” “She’s a traitor, she’s a thief.” A few of them venture close enough to tug at your gown, to strike at you. A woman’s knuckles rap against your cheekbone, raising a bruise there like lavender in a dusk sky. You think dully: I wonder if they’ll gouge out my eyes with those knives like they did to Everett.

“Get back!” Autumn hisses, shoving the smallfolk away. And when she speaks, they listen. “She is going to the Wolf of Winterfell. She is my protector. She is your protector now too. She is the best chance you have left.” And the crowds open up and the three of you pass through King’s Landing unimpeded, though cloaked in thousands of fascinated gazes.

The King’s Gate has been abandoned; the guards must have feared the Boltons’ flaying knives or Lord Stark’s dark justice. Autumn instructs several hulking men of the smallfolk to open the gate if they wish to be spared from the wolf’s wrath. They are reluctant at first, but do as she asks. When the massive doors creak open, the people of the capital huddle behind the wall and peer out skittishly as you, Autumn, and Jaehaera advance to meet the Northmen, who are bloodied from battle and now within a hundred yards of the city. Above, the sky is thick and iron-grey and frigid. Snowflakes—the first of this winter to touch King’s Landing—begin to fall and land in your hair, and you are reminded of how embers rained from the smoldering pine trees at Rook’s Rest.

“Can you catch one on your tongue?” Autumn asks Jaehaera, and the little girl giggles as they both try.

The Warden of the North rides an immense, shaggy warhorse at the head of what remains of his army. He recognizes you immediately, dismounts, approaches with determined, unbreakable strides. Clement is close behind him.

“You’re alive!” your brother shouts joyously. “And apparently not pregnant with a Targaryen bastard! Praise the gods!”

Cregan Stark does not act as if he’s heard this. The Warden of the North is not as you remember him; he is larger, heavier and broader from the muscles won in battle, coarsened by weather and war. His hair is long and dark and pulled back from his face. He wears a sword at his belt that is taller than you are when it’s unsheathed. He is entombed in leather and furs. He does not hesitate before he lays his hands you. You are betrothed to him, you are his property, would a man ask before he grabs his horses or his dogs?

The Warden of the North does not seize your forearm roughly like Aemond once did. Instead, his massive palms and fingers clasp your face as he marvels at you. You can feel the stains of dirt and ashes he leaves there. You want to scream when he touches you, but you can’t. You want to burn with rage and heartache until you crumble like ruins. Your life is already over. Your life has just begun.

“You have suffered greatly,” Cregan Stark says, a marriage of shock and reverence.

“You have no idea.” Perpetual Resurrection, you think. It doesn’t mean you come back better. It just means you’re still here.

“You are safe now,” Cregan swears. “The Usurper will never harm you again.” And it ends the same way it began: with a man mistaking your allegiance and beckoning you into a destiny that he wholeheartedly believes is greater than any you could have envisioned for yourself.

“He’s dead.”

This stuns Cregan. “When? How?”

“Today. Of old wounds sustained in battle.”

He looks at Jaehaera, noticing her for the first time. “Is that his daughter?”

“Yes,” you say. “She must always be treated with kindness. She must be protected.”

“You have an affinity for her,” Cregan notes, intrigued.

You hear Aegon’s voice, so clearly it cuts like a blade: Tell him whatever he wants to hear. “We have been through great trials together. We survived the same monster.”

The Warden of the North nods. This is a story he craves to be told. “Very well. If it is your wish that she not be discreetly disposed of as a Silent Sister, I will betroth her to Rhaenyra’s surviving son. They will unite the noble houses of Westeros and end this war.”

“The worst of the Greens are dead already. Those who remain should be shown mercy. Alicent is old and ill and broken from loss. She poses no threat. She should be permitted to remain in the company of her granddaughter. Corlys was loyal to Rhaenyra until she falsely imprisoned him for treason, and he belongs on Driftmark with Rhaena. Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister, and Grand Maester Orwyle, if no pardon can be arranged for them, should go to the Wall instead of the scaffold. And Autumn, my companion there with Jaehaera…she was a true friend to me. I owe her my life several times over. She must be permitted to stay with Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger as a caretaker, and reside in comfort in the Red Keep for the remainder of her days.”

“Who do you think you are, sister?!” Clement exclaims. “You’re speaking to the Kingmaker, not some handmaiden! You do not command him!”

“I am not commanding,” you counter levelly. “I am pleading for mercy on behalf of imperfect souls who showed me kindness during my captivity. If granted, I will consider these my wedding gifts.”

“She is remarkable, is she not?” Cregan Stark says, grinning to Clement and several other men who have ventured closer. They wear the sigils of Northern houses: Bolton, Cerwyn, Manderly, Hornwood, Dustin. They chuckle in agreement, stroking their wild beards with huge filthy hands. “Dauntless but merciful. Clever but obedient.” And then the Warden of the North claims your lips with his, chaste but overpowering, the first of a thousand kisses you never desired, a thousand acts of affection for a woman who isn’t really you, feigned resignation and bitten-back rage, eternal war with the interminable knowledge that there is something more, more, more…you just aren’t permitted to have it. It was taken from you, it was ripped from your hands like stolen treasure.

All your life you will have to murmur in wounded agreement when people recount the terrible sins of the Usurper. All your life you will have to praise Cregan Stark for killing millions to rescue you. And the days will pass, weeks, months, years, summers and winters, the births of your children and their own marriages; and when Cregan’s boy Rickon, born of his first wife, produces only daughters, your son Brandon and his descendants will become the heirs to Winterfell. In the desolate North—so far from the ocean, so far from everything Aegon ever knew—your greatest solace will be letters from Autumn as she learns to read and write, books that your husband orders for you from the Citadel, setting bones and treating burns, a tiny lock of braided silver hair that you keep in a hidden drawer of your jewelry box, dreams that you never want to wake up from.

But one day, decades after you leave King’s Landing, you will receive a raven from Queen Jaehaera Targaryen, and she will ask you: You knew the Greens in your youth, Wardeness Stark. You knew Aemond, Daeron, Helaena, Alicent, Otto, Maelor, Aegon the Usurper. What can you tell me of them? What was my father like? Who was he really?

And you’ll pick up your quill and begin writing.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader

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literaryuppsala · 1 year

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Hello ❤ got a request. Can you please write about reader that used to be married to rollo and one day he just fucks off without telling the reader. Years later he got informed that the reader had gotten pregnant and that it was his child. Rollo wants to go back to be with his "family" but to do that he has to go through a trail of sorts. He agrees to it without knowing what it is. The trail being, him chained to the bed and having to watch as the reader gets fucked by everybody of the ragnarson family. He is close enough where he can hear and see everything but he is not allowed to touch the reader. And at the end he found out that the reader has gotten remarried to ubbe/bjorn/maybe even ragnar??? And that his child doesn't even know him and he gets kicked out 🤤😌

You can choose to do either just the men of the family including ragnar cause I want to see rollo suffer or you can choose to have the mothers/ wives with them.if you want to, have the reader blind folded so she has to guess who it is ❤

Basically make rollos life hell 😂

What a ride... I guess I never wrote something like that, I am THRIVING, it's filthy, it's messy, has a lot of fluids, and dude it took me forever to finish, like always... Anyways, I hope you like it AND YOU WATCHED THE PROCESS SO BE NICE TO ME! Thank you for your ask babe, have fun you pervert.

Warnings: ALL OF THE WARNINGS POSSIBLE, it's complete filth, pure smut, but with a little plot, not a lot, just a little to give context.

Minors, stay the hell away from this one, I'm not joking.

Sweet like justice, karma is a queen.

You were very young when you first met Ragnar and his brother Rollo. Your eyes crossed paths with them on one of their first meetings with your father, Horik. They were handsome, strong warriors, such a sight when you first saw them, caught your attention very quickly. The meetings ended up with an alliance, Horik and Ragnar decided to raid together in England, returning to Norway filled with treasures and a promise of land.

A feast was prepared to celebrate, the treasures were shared between everyone but Rollo wanted something else, he wanted more. You didn’t mind at first when his eyes caught yours in the middle of the night, didn’t mind when he approached you and offered a cup of ale, you talked until everyone else was already passed out around you and you ended up in his bed that night.

You really thought he loved you, he proposed to your father who gladly accepted and you married him just a few months later that night. He moved you to Kattegat, bought you a house and introduced you to his family until It became yours. But things changed, he changed. One day you heard about a woman he had in his life, someone he loved but died years before, and you thought that was the reason, that he couldn’t love you completely because part of his heart died with her and you learned to live like that.

But Rollo was a different man, to be married to him wasn’t easy, he was demanding, ambitious, always thought he should be doing greater things, that he should be bigger. After years of marriage he became very distant and despite having his way with you every night, you were never able to conceive, you thought to yourself that something was wrong with you, that the gods made you that way and that was another reason for your husband to treat you like that.

“I went to see the healer.” You told him one night. “She gave me a few herbs that can help.”

“The gods cursed me.” He mumbled. “An empty woman who can not give me any child.”

Ragnar was the one to always cheer you up, saying that you weren’t the problem, but his brother. He wouldn’t make a good father, he’d say, the gods won’t give him a child to raise. You never told Rollo about these conversations, he hated his brother and the fact that after Horik’s death, he became the king, something he thought belonged to himself.

“Your brother was looking for you.” You warned him as you put his plate in front of him at the table.

“He came here?” He asked without looking at you.

“Yes, he said It was important.” You continued. “I think it is about going back to Frankia.” You sat in front of him. “You should take me this time.”

“No.” He answered simply.

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous, and you have no business in Frankia.”

“I’m a shieldmaiden Rollo, I wasn't made to sit back at home and take care of your children.”

“What children? You haven’t given me any.”

They left to Frankia the next morning, Rollo left without saying a single word to you and something in your heart broke that day. Months later they came back, you were at the pier waiting, your baby bump showing and a big smile on your face, a few days after their departure you found out you were with child, and you couldn’t wait to tell Rollo about It. But as the ship docked, your smile died on your face.

“Where is he?” You asked when Ragnar stood in front of you, his hand immediately touching your belly. He didn’t answer, but you knew, he stayed there.

Later you learned Ragnar was betrayed by Rollo and defeated by Frankia’s army and the last news he had before leaving was about his marriage with a princess. Rollo had abandoned you without a second thought.

Years later, you grew accustomed to a new life, your son was already five years old and growing stronger each day. Ragnar took care of you, accepting you in his house, he protected you and your child, who he named after one of his good friends, Leif, and he loved your boy, after his own boys grew into strong men, to have yours running around gave him life and so did you.

You weren’t blind to Ragnar’s affection towards you, after Aslaug’s death he didn’t have anyone in his life except for you and despite being a sight for sore eyes, you weren’t interested on the men in Kattegat, but both of you never tried anything, maybe you felt wrong about that even though Rollo was gone for so long. However, he wasn’t the only one, Bjorn and Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar, and even Sigurd, all had soft spots for you, but you brushed it off and ignored it as something simple as a crush.

One night, without a warning, a ship docked at the pier. People let Ragnar know about it, and he went there with both Bjorn and Ubbe, just to find a ship from Frankia, from where Rollo jumped. He frowned, confused by his brother’s presence, Rollo looked into his eyes and swallowed hard.

With a grunt Ragnar turned around, silently nodding for his sons to grab Rollo by his arms and drag him to the great hall. As soon as they got there, Ragnar took his place in his throne and Rollo was thrown on his knees, at his feet. You heard the noise from your bedroom in the back and walked towards It, standing in shock when you finally saw the man. Rollo seemed old, his once dark brown hair was filled with gray strands, so was his beard, he widened his eyes as soon as they met yours.

“Mama!” You heard Leif’s voice and heard his footsteps running towards you, looking for you. He hugged your legs as soon as he found you. You grabbed him in your arms, Rollo’s eyes focused on the boy and a tiny smile showed up on his face, but that was quickly wiped by a punch, thrown by Bjorn.

“Don’t look at him.” He grunted angrily.

It didn’t take long for Ivar and Hvitserk to join you in the great hall, none of them seemed happy to see the man in front of them, neither were you.

“What are you doing here?” Ragnar rasped.

“I want to come back…” He mumbled.

“Seems funny… After all these years…”

“I have every right to be here, to be with my family.”

“The family you abandoned…”

“I’m here now.”

“You say this like you’re some sort of treasure we should be proud to gain. Tell me, Rollo, what happened in Frankia to make you want to come back?”

“I heard about my son, I want to know him.”

You hugged your son, like you could protect him from Rollo’s prying eyes.

“He’s not yours.” You growled. “He’s mine, only mine. Didn’t your princess give you any sons?”

“Brother…” Rollo looked at Ragnar.

“Don’t talk to him, talk to me, I’m the wife you abandoned!” You insisted but lowered his head again. “This is unbelievable…”

“I want to prove myself.” He answered. “To you…” He looked at Ragnar then moved to you. “And to you.” He sighed. “To the gods… I deserve that!”

It took a few minutes of silence between all of you, Rollo looking around searching for any sign of kindness, but you weren’t one to pity that man, not after everything he put you through.

“Take Leif to the back.” Ragnar told you. “And come back here.”

You didn’t understand at first, but nodded and took your son to your bedroom, asking one of the servants to stay there with him.

“Don’t leave until I come back.” You told her under your breath, locking her inside.

When you came back you found Rollo tied up to a chair in the middle of the great hall, Ragnar was standing in front of him while his sons waited behind him. He looked over his shoulders and offered his hand to you, you frowned but took it, walking until you were standing by his side.

Ragnar grabbed you by your waist, startling you who quickly wrapped your arms around his neck for support when he took you in his arms, bride style, taking you to the nearest table, he sat you there, taking his place between your legs.

“Do you trust me?” He asked under his breath, only for you to hear.

“I do.” You whispered shyly and he smiled.

Ragnar took a cloth from his pocket and covered your eyes, your breath caught on your throat and you sighed heavily. You felt his hand feather touching your face before moving away from your body and you immediately felt the absence of his warmth. The next thing you felt was a pair of hands on your thighs and a warm breath against your cheeks, before you noticed, someone kissed you.

The kiss was feverish, filled with a hunger you never experienced before, you’ve never been kissed like that. Teeth and tongue, saliva gathering on the corners of your mouth, a pair of hands meeting the base of your spine pulling you closer to the edge of the table, his thighs between yours keeping your legs open. He stopped the kiss to murmur against your lips.

“Waited so long to do this.”

You recognized Ragnar’s voice before he kissed you again, your mind spinning when your hands met his hips, unconsciously pulling him into you. His hands roamed down your shoulders taking down the sleeves of your dress. You felt a little self conscious and your body tensed, Ragnar distracted you by taking his kisses down your neck and collarbones, making you shiver. A “what’s this…” growled by Rollo sounded in the back of your mind and something twisted inside you, you felt excited.

Ragnar kept kissing down your chest, taking down your dress until your breasts were exposed, your breath hitched and your nipples hardened on the cold of the great hall. His mouth latched at your nipple, sucking on the little nub, your hands met the back of his head and you pressed his face against your chest, wanting more of that sensation. He did the same to the other nipple, using his hand to knead at the free breast.

Between your legs, Ragnar found the skirts of your dress, raising everything up your waist “Open your legs for me.” He asked against your lips and you obeyed, suddenly he moved away from you and stood by your side, your pussy now in full display for Rollo’s widened eyes.

“What are you doing?” Rollo asked with gritted teeth.

“What do you think?” Ragnar asked back, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and making you whine. “I’m gonna fuck your wife.”

With that being said, Ragnar kneeled in front of you, hands rubbing on your calves before putting them on his shoulders. His lips brushed against the side of your inner thighs, his beard scratching the soft skin as he peppered kisses all around until he shoved his face into your bare pussy, licking from your hole to your clit. Your back arched and you gasped, putting your arms behind your back, on the table, for some support, throwing your head back.

Ragnar was something else while he was eating you out, with a little crowd watching, he wanted to give them a show. With his face buried into your cunt, he was nosing onto your clit while teasing your hole with the tip of his tongue, then he worked through your folds, long and slow licks like he was savoring you, drinking from you. You suppressed a moan, still self conscious of the others presence surrounding you, earning yourself a low grunt that sent vibrations through your core and a harsh slap on your thighs.

Rollo’s eyes were glued to your body, he was growling under his breath, trying to get rid of the straps binding him to that chair. Ragnar moaned right into your pussy, he moved his tongue quickly and you started to grind your hips on his face, gripping his hair and pulling it slightly. His beard was scratching against the soft skin of your pussy, you could feel it rubbing against you painfully while he started sucking on your clit.

Your moans became louder, your hips moved on its own accord, your body was working on automatic, the knot on lower belly forming and tightening. Suddenly, two of his fingers were knuckles deep into your warmth, thrusting up inside you and you gasped: ‘Ragnar’ knowing damn well Rollo was listening to you. Ragnar could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, so he increased his pace, dragging more mewls from your mouth until the knot finally snapped and you groaned loudly.

Ragnar stood up, turning on his side to stare at a nervous Rollo, his face glistening with your slick, he sucked his fingers clean off your juices and cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand. Moving away from between your legs, he held your chin, your fucked out face on full display for his brother’s sight.

“Open your legs.” He ordered again, and you obeyed, showing off your puffy cunt. “Did you miss this, brother? Did your princess have a better one?”

Once again he was between your legs, shimming out of his slacks and pulling his cock out. His hands quickly held the back of your thighs and pulled you further to the edge of the table, his tip featherly touching your hole making you whine.

“See, Rollo…” He grabbed the base of his cock, rubbing it against your pussy and coating himself in your juices. “I don’t think you could ever have anything better.” He pushed himself in and both of you moaned in unison, fresh slick leaking out of you to coat his length.

Ragnar threw his head back, closing his eyes as he felt your warm walls engulfing him, sinking into you slowly until he’s fully sheathed. He pulled back completely just to slam inside you again, he did that slowly a few times, like he was savoring every inch of you, until he was thrusting up inside you and he didn’t hold back. Holding your hips with one of his hands, the other met the space between your breasts, pushing you back until you laid down on the table. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer.

“Gods…” You moaned, holding onto the table like your life depended on it.

With your eyes covered, you felt everything more intensely, Ragnar’s body on you, picking up the pace until he was pounding hard into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every thrust. You clenched down on him and he gasped, hand squeezing your hip hard while the other kneaded on your breasts that bounced with every movement of your body.

When he felt your thighs starting to tremble, he brought his hand to your aching pussy and found your clit, making quick work of your bundle of nerves with the tip of his fingers. You moaned again, loudly, feeling your orgasm approaching you, the knot on your lower belly starting to form.

“Let go for me.” He begged under his breath.

With a particular hard thrust the knot snapped, triggering Ragnar’s own release as he pushed himself to a hilt, his body tensing as both of you panted heavily. He leaned forward for a moment spreading kisses all over your stomach before moving away from between your legs, putting his trousers back and holding one of your knees to keep you wide open, his cum dripping from your pussy, onto the table and on the floor.

“That was...” Ragnar mumbled, three little slaps on your knee had you sitting up straight.

“Can I-Can I go now?” You heard as Rollo begged.

“What? No…” You felt when Ragnar moved away and heard some shifting around you, the thrilling feeling of not knowing what to expect had your pussy throbbing with need in a way It never did before. “We’re only getting started.”

You gulped, scared about what he meant, but excited at the same time. Next thing you knew, the space between your legs was occupied again, a bulky, slightly familiar body stood there like it belonged there, you shifted on your place, not able to close your legs and feeling again self conscious of your own nudity.

“Ragnar…” You mumbled under your breath, a pair of hands touched the sides of your face before you were kissed.

Even though you felt familiarity within the act, that wasn’t Ragnar, that kiss was different, passionate, but still unsure, It felt like he was claiming a new territory. His beard scratched the soft skin on your face, his teeth nipped at your lower lip, you couldn’t help but open up to let him in, you held his face and kissed him back.

“Can I do this?” He mumbled against your lips and you recognized Bjorn’s voice. You gasped, surprised.

“Bjorn…” You whispered, your hands started to shake.

“I’ll be gentle.” He assured you, one of his hands touching the side of your face. “I promise.”

You felt your heart sinking to your stomach, like it was beating there, the blood in your veins ran fast and your body quivered, your mind was spinning, when his hands found the swell of your pussy you whined in his mouth, turning your head to the side giving him room to work on your neck. Bjorn sucked and nipped your skin like an artist painting his masterpiece, taking his sweet time while his fingers worked through your cum wet folds.

He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that another man just fucked you minutes ago, by the feeling of it, he seemed turned on. Two of his fingers entered you when his mouth found your perky nipple and you moaned, arching your back offering him more of your chest. You were overstimulated from your previous orgasm and the sensations Bjorn was bringing to you, your peak wouldn’t take long so you clenched around his fingers and worked your hips in sync with his movements. With his thumb he started to nurse on your clit, rubbing the small bead in tight circles until you came on his fingers, a loud, long moan filling the great hall.

Bjorn wasted no time after this, you felt him standing up and shimming out of his trousers, sinking into you in one swift motion. You gasped, not used to the way he stretched you out, and threw your head back, making room for him to kiss on your neck. He sheathed inside you, not pulling out immediately, just grinding against your hips first, his hip bone teasing your clit.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and arched your back, leaning back over your hands. He used both of his hands to grab your breasts then leaned forward to catch one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking on the perky buds. It was messy. Wet with your own arousal and Ragnar’s cum, you could feel it dripping from your core.

Slowly, Bjorn pulled out completely, just to thrust back in. He did this a few times, dragging soft mewls from your mouth. With his hand between your breasts he made you lay down on the table once more, picking up his pace. You held onto the table while he started to rut against you with full force, your body jolting back and forth. His mouth was skillful on your nipple, going from one to the other and still using his hands.

“You feel so good…” He mumbled, one of his hands leaving your breasts and quickly finding your clit.

You moaned loudly. With two of his fingers he pinched your clit, then dragged his finger around in tiny circles. The pressure on your belly started to build and you squeezed your eyes shut, even though you weren’t actually with them open to start with. Your mind could only focus on his movements, you clenched around his cock and he growled, speeding up his fingers and his thrusts. Bjorn was fucking the air out of your lungs as he fucked you like his life was on the line, his cock throbbed inside you, the sound of skin slapping against skin was filling the great hall and was so loud.

“Enough.”

Somewhere, on the back of your mind, you heard Rollo’s beg, but as your climax approached you could only think of this. Bjorn’s thrusts started to falter, he became sloppier as he chased his own release and you were right behind him, feeling the pressure on your body finally explode. You came around his cock, clenching down on him with a wanton moan. He came right after you, feeling you to the brim with his seed, grunting raspily.

He wobbled away from you and you whined at the sudden emptiness. He leaned against the table trying to catch his own breath, eyes still on your fucked out body on the table. Unconsciously, your hands went to the cloth on your eyes, almost getting out of the way but a cold hand on yours stopped you. You whined impatiently but before you had the chance to complain, the same hand grabbed a handful of your hips, dragging you out of the table until you stood on the ground.

There was this silence, the only thing in your mind being the amount of pleasure going through your veins, you could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly while you tried to ease your body. Your hands traveled to the body in front of you, holding his shoulders while he kept his firm on your hips.

You had no idea who he was, you felt his body against yours, the familiar scent you were used to feeling but couldn’t recognize him. His hips met yours and you felt his hard cock against your core, making you moan. Taking your face with both of his hands he kissed you. His kiss was calm, soft even, nothing like the sexual spiral you just got out of. His hands explored the sides of your body with care, like you would vanish from his sight at any moment.

The mess between your legs made you painfully aware of what just happened, either way his fingers found their way to your core, his tips exploring your folds, he coated his fingers in the your slick, the mixed cum inside your pussy, then he pushed his middle one all the way in, til he was knuckle deep inside you. You sobbed and threw your head back when he started to kiss down your jaw so you could give him more space.

His kisses met your neck, he circled your clit and that made you jerk in response. Suddenly his fingers were inside your mouth and you whined at the taste on your tongue. You started sucking on his fingers, obscenely licking through it and he groaned when under his breath, you licked him clean.

He stretched you out with his fingers, pumping in and out of you as he kissed down your chest, your body arching, right thigh rising up his waist opening up a little more for him. He curled his fingers up finding your sweet spot and making you see stars behind your eyelids. You started to grind down on his fingers while the sound of your moans resonated around the great hall. He licked down your collarbones and your legs started to shake, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

You felt like your body was on fire, shaking violently until the knot snapped and your orgasm hit you like a punch. You clenched hard on his fingers, body falling limp on the table, but before you had the chance to ride your own high, your body was pushed and turned around, your back hitting his chest, you could feel his hard cock on your behind, listening while he struggled with his trousers, pulling down his legs til the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock from its confines. He teased you with the tip between your ass cheeks and you teased back, grinding on his hips, silently begging for him to just slide in.

He lined his cock to your wet folds, enticing another moan from you and then he pushed in, his tip stretching your walls. You gasped, fingers holding the table for support while you felt him sliding only a few more inches in. His hand rubbed up your back until he grabbed the nape of your neck, you grunted feeling him leaning your body forward, your breasts pressed against the head of the table while he started to thrust up into you.

He was fully inside you when he used his free hand to pinch on your clit, making your body jolt, your walls fluttered around him, a choked whine slipped through your lips as he went deeper. He picked up his pace quickly, hands now on your shoulders tugging your body back to meet his thrusts, your body trembling when you felt the pleasure building up once again, extremely sensitive from everything that already happened to you. You both moaned loudly, he was lost on you just like you were on him, every thrust was powerful and deep, stroking every nerve ending inside your pussy. His hips slapped against yours, the table shaking with his movements.

“Gods…” You cried out, feeling the pressure on your lower belly.

He cursed under his breath, feeling your walls clenching hard around his length, his own climax coming through while you felt the first impact of your orgasm. Your entire body froze as he fucked you through the haze, coming inside you a few seconds later.

“That’s your idea of punishment?” Rollo growled, his voice far away like It was in another room, your mind still dizzy with pleasure. “Are you punishing me or her?”

“Her?” Ragnar scoffed. “I’m not punishing her, brother. Watch It… She likes it. She wanted It.”

You felt a pair of hands wrapping around your waist and your body was gently sat on the table again, the mess between your legs just growing by the minute, staining the soft skin of your thighs and leaving you slightly bothered. A kiss on your forehead had you trembling even more, so you raised your hand trying to hold his.

“Who…?” You couldn’t finish the phrase, but your hand was softly removed and you were left alone.

“It’s done, I’m done!” Rollo tried one more time.

You heard Rollo’s begs one more time, his voice was shaky and you imagined his face. If you remembered correctly at this point he would be all red and sweaty and your tummy twisted with excitement, you shouldn’t like this as much as you were.

“Well… We’re not.” Ragnar answered carefully.

For a moment nothing happened, you sat there with your body trembling. The line between pleasure and pain was thin and your body had started to complain about It. Suddenly you felt someone taking the place between your legs one more time but despite being so tired, your mind seemed to have other plans, your skin prickled at the warmth engulfing you, another familiar scent wrapping your whole body.

He didn’t waste any time, he kissed you… Kissed you like he craved you, feverishly. His lips moved in sync against yours while his hands roamed through your sweaty body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugged him with your legs feeling his hard cock against your abused cunt. You were too sensitive, your body was hot all over, and even though It was telling you It couldn’t take it any longer, your fucked out brain wanted more.

You grinded against his hips and started to fumble with his trousers until you freed his cock from its confines. You grabbed at his length and he moaned in your mouth, waiting for you to align the head of his cock against the pulsing entrance of your pussy and you cried out at the new intrusion, feeling incredibly sore.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, you started to grind against his hips again, urging him to fuck you. With both of his hands on your hips, he set an excruciatingly slow rhythm, distracting you with his mouth on your neck, he started to paint your skin in dark bruises. You cried again, threw your head back while letting your hands on his shoulders, digging your nails into his shoulders to anchor yourself, like his body was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you from floating away.

With one of his hands, he started to play with your clit, massaging the sensitive nub between his fingers, dragging more mewls from your lips, making you writhe against his strong grip. His cock was unrelenting, picking up his pace as he started to fuck you hard and deep, your sensitivity only amplifying the waves of pleasure that crossed your veins. Your pussy fluttered around his length and he knew you were close, hips bucking to meet his thrusts, the spongy head of his cock was pressing directly against your g-spot and you moaned loudly.

You felt his hand snaking up your chest until it found your neck and he pressed for a moment, your breath hitched, caught up in your throat and you clenched down on him. You got lightheaded and his thrusts became sloppier, you could feel he got lost in yourself very quickly and arousal twisted in your stomach, you felt flattered.

He gave a chucked off groan and for a moment you imagined who it could be, which one of them was fucking you this time, the great hall was filled with his grunts and the wet squelch of your pussy.

“Faster… Please…” You managed to mumble.

Your pussy was clenching desperately around his cock and he was throbbing inside you, he was close too, you could feel it. He fucked you hard and faster until he sheated tightly into your pussy holding you in place as he came, triggering your own orgasm. You came so hard your mind went blank, your body spasmed and you went limp in his arms. He held you strongly so you wouldn’t fall, your head on his shoulders as you breathed heavily. He rubbed your back for a minute before he pulled out and after making you sure you were firm, sitting on the table, he left.

“I-I… Ragnar…” You raised your hand blindly and seconds later you felt his fingers intertwined with yours.

“You’re doing great for me, my love.” He whispered, lips on your sweaty forehead. “Can you give me one more?”

“I don’t know…” You breathed.

“I know you can, you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” He kissed your lips. “Give me one more so we can take care of you.”

We. You noticed the weird choice of word and felt him when he kissed your knuckles. We. What did he mean by that? Your thoughts were cloudy when his warmth surrounded you again, he picked you up in his arms and you immediately wrapped yours around his neck, laying down your face on his shoulders, letting him carry you wherever.

Ragnar sat you down on someone’s lap, when you felt a pair of shaky legs right under your body and nervous hands wrapping around your waist. He turned you around, made you put one of your knees on each side of that body and just like that he left. There was a nervous silence between you two, but you were close enough to feel his shaky breath against your cheeks.

Suddenly, he used one of his hands to take off your blind fold, you blinked your tears away, trying to get used to the new brightness. You focused on the image in front of you and met Ivar’s widened eyes staring back at you. Ivar was nervous, but you could sense his arousal in the way that he watched you, intently following down your body, from your face to your collar bones and your chest, your soft belly and your exposed core, he gulped.

You stayed like that for a moment, only looking at each other like you were trying to read each other’s minds, you almost forgot about the little crowd watching you two but as his eyes wandered over your shoulders you were reminded.

“C-Can I kiss you?” He stuttered and you nodded dumbfounded. His lips touched yours slightly, shaky and cold, you didn’t kiss him back at first, then he pulled back, looking at you with a frown and a little pout. “You don’t want to…”

“No!” You were quick to respond. “I want to. I really want to, Ivar.” You reassured him and his expression softened.

You cradled his face between your hands and kissed him, this time deeply, your tongue teasing his as you felt his hands pressing on waist, pressing your body down. When you pulled away, he was gone, glossy eyes staring back at you as he choked out a whimper, following your face with his eyes still closed, reaching for your lips.

He sighed and opened his eyes, he frowned again, so impatient. You touched his lips with your thumb, fluffy and wet from your last kiss and he licked the tip, you shuddered. Being that close he seemed so young to you, kinda lost in his own feelings and sensations, so different from the Ivar you knew, he always seemed so sure of himself.

Ivar opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but as you rolled your hips down his lap he gasped, that seemed to erase every trace of thought in his head, he just closed his eyes and whimpered, throwing his head back. You used the chance to latch onto his neck, groaning quietly against his skin. Gods, you were soaked. It was definitely not like you hadn’t been fucked into oblivion by four men already, you were ready to get lost one more time. You licked his skin, sucked and nipped, leaving behind tiny red marks, basking in the sounds he was making.

“Can I?” You asked him and he nodded, that was the only permission you needed to come back to his neck, to start rolling your hips over again.

The rumors about the young man not being able to satisfy a woman were the biggest lie, you thought to yourself. You could feel him getting hard under your body and the thought of having him inside you was driving you mad.

“I’m so wet for you, Ivar.” You murmured against his ear, only for him to hear you and he whimpered again, thrusting up his hips a bit.

“For me?” He whispered breathlessly and you nodded, tracing his lips with your thumb again before kissing him feverishly.

“Yes.” You grabbed his hand and put it between your bodies, his fingers met with your core, rubbing the mess of fluids on your pussy. “Will you help me?”

He nodded, dumbfounded. You used your hand between your bodies to grab his cock and started jerking slowly, his lips parted as he gasped for air. The fact that these small touches were bringing so much pleasure to him was even more exciting to you. Your faces are so close you can feel his breath against your cheeks, your lips almost touch and his fingers trembled between your legs, nervously moving between your folds.

Abruptly, you intensified your movements, he choked out a groan and closed his eyes, precum was leaking from his tip, making it easier for you to slide your hand up and down his cock, that pulsed and twitched in your hand. Quickly you moved it away, standing up a bit to line up his cock with your entrance, he looked at you like you were some sort of goddess, silently worshiping you, shaky hands wrapping around your waist as you sat down his length.

“Gods… Please…” He groaned when he felt your warm walls engulfing him.

You placed your hand on his shoulders as you fucked yourself over his cock, slowly moving your hips up and down. You brought his hand back down your body and started to use his fingers to massage your clit.

“Like this?” He asked in awe.

“Yes…” You answered under your breath.

Quickly you started to bounce on his cock, riding him like your life depended on it. The great hall was filled with Ivar’s small grunts and your breathy moans. You squeeze at his shoulders and threw your had back, he kept his fingers in your clit, drawing hard circles on your little nub just like you taught him and you could feel him twitching inside you, you knew he was close and so were you.

You moaned with every thrust, you hunched over and kissed him, his arms wrapped around your waist and he pushed you down on his cock. You felt his release and he moaned loudly against your mouth. Your own high coming down hard on you as you clenched on him, cumming for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

You laid down on his shoulder for a moment, trying to ease your breathing as you came down from your orgasm. He hugged you tightly, thumb drawing small circles on your back and you could fall asleep right there, you closed your eyes and your consciousness almost abandoned you for a moment, that’s when you felt someone taking you up from Ivar’s lap and you whined, feeling empty and sore.

“I’ll take care of you.” Ragnar mumbled in your ear. “Take him out, we don’t want him here.”

You imagined he was referring to Rollo who was finally silent, or maybe you just stopped listening to your surroundings. In Ragnar's arms you did fall asleep, waking up again only when you felt a warm cloth between your legs, you quickly moved away from the touch but was stopped by a pair of hands on your legs.

“I’m just cleaning you up.” Ragnar told you and you opened your eyes, finding him sitting by your side, you looked around and recognized his bedroom, the furs were soft against your skin and you were extremely tired.

“Was I good?” You asked under your breath, reaching out for his hand, which he really took, taking it to his lips, spreading kisses all over it.

“So good...” He said it against your skin and you smiled tiredly.

After cleaning you up he snuggled by your side, covering your bodies with fur and putting your head on his chest, rubbing your hair as you slowly fell back to sleep.

“Our best girl.” Was the last thing you heard before drifting into slumber.

***

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callsigndragon · 2 years

Text

Sunshine | Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

(I love this gif so much I'm not even joking)

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Wife!reader

Word count: 1010

Warnings: nothing! Pure, lovely fluff.

This was requested by @bookaholics-stuff. Thank you, honey! This was such a cute request and I just had to write it NOW. Hope you like it!

FOREVER TGM TAGLIST: @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @shrimping-for-all @abaker74

(if you want to be tagged, ask me!)

Mrs. Seresin was the only thing Jake didn't brag about. Don't get me wrong, it's not because he is not proud of you. Quite the opposite.

He's so damn happy to have you in his life that he wants to treasure you. Keep you to himself.

And there hasn't been a lot of time to talk about each other's lives during this mission. Phoenix wants to fix this matter, actually, suggesting all the members that a day at the beach could be a good opportunity to get to know each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake had agreed to meet with the rest this Saturday, have something to drink at the Hard Deck, play some Dogfight football… Just a bunch of friends spending a normal day at the beach without having to worry about the safety of the planet. But that plan is thrown out the window when you, Y/n Seresin, the love of Jake’s life, ring the bell of Jake and Javy’s shared house.

“Sunshine? Oh my god, what are you doing here?” Jake says, while hugging you tightly. It has only been a few weeks since the last time he saw you, but it feels like a lifetime away from you.

“Heard that my handsome hubby had chalked up another kill, saved the day and also the famous Maverick. I had to come here and celebrate!” you explain, covering his face with kisses, Jake scrunching his nose due to the pure happiness of the moment.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush, Mrs. Seresin”

“Where’s Javy?” you ask, entering the house and leaving your small suitcase in the bedroom.

“I don’t know, he said he was gonna meet Mickey and Reuben to buy something. Don’t ask me why because I can’t remember” he confesses, laughing.

“Oh my, Jake Seresin, aren't you a bit young to be forgetting things?” you joke as you lay down on the bed, tired from the flight from Austin. You had been staying with your sister-in-law and her two kids for a few days, not wanting to be alone when you found out how dangerous this mission was going to be.

“It’s your fault. Do I have to remind you how I forgot my own name when I first saw you?” he recalls, sitting in the bed next to you, his hand quickly moving to your hair, and moving some strands out of your face. “You still have that effect on me, Sunshine”

You smile, satisfaction running through your body as you realize that no matter how much time passes, Jake will always be completely and utterly in love with you. “I saw the beach while in the taxi. This place is amazing, Jake. And you are definitely sunbathing without me, huh? Look at that golden skin” you poke his cheek, making him giggle like a teenager.

Everyone saw Hangman, the aviator.

But only you were able to see Jake, the loving husband.

“Want me to take you to the beach, sunshine? We can take a bath and go for a walk.” he offers, kissing your forehead.

“I’d love to”

“Is that woman talking to Hangman?” Phoenix questions out loud while leaving the cooler that Mickey, Reuben and Javy had bought earlier to fill with drinks, in the sand.

“Maybe he is talking to the poor woman,” Fanboy suggests, moving his sunglasses down his nose to try and understand the whole situation. “Should we go rescue her?”

“She doesn’t seem uncomfortable, though” Payback adds, the whole squad standing there like a bunch of sentinels, ready to jump into action if the lady needed to be liberated from the blonde cowboy.

Seconds later, Hangman is throwing the poor girl over his shoulder and walking straight to the water. “Oh god, he’s gonna get smacked,” Bob laughs, opening his blue folding chair and sitting down to enjoy the show.

“JAKE SERESIN PUT ME DOWN” you yell, trying to leave your husband’s arms, only to be thrown in the water. You stand up, your sundress now completely stuck to your body. Thank god you are wearing your swimsuit underneath. “If I didn’t vow to love you for the rest of my life I would kill you”

“Did she say ‘vow’ as in ‘wedding vow’?" Rooster asks, looking at the rest of his team. “Man, I don’t understand anything”

Javy, who had been trying to get the beach umbrella from the trunk after it got stuck, walks happily to the rest, wondering why the heck are they standing there like… well, idiots. “Guys what are you- Y/N SERESIN?”

“JAVY!” the woman, who now everyone knows it’s a Seresin, runs to Javy, almost tackling him to the ground. "I'm so glad you're okay"

"What are you guys doing here?" Questions Hangman to the group, joining his wife and his best friend.

"Dude, beach day. We told you" Fanboy looks at Hangman, wondering if the pilot really had forgotten about it or was just messing with them.

"Excuse my husband, he's having trouble remembering things lately" you tease him, earning a glare from Jake.

"Husband" mutters Bob.

"Husband?" asks Phoenix.

"Husband!" confirms Javy.

"I'm Y/N. We've been married for three years now. And no, I wasn't forced to marry him, Rooster. I know you were about to say that" you say to Bradley, leaving him shocked.

"I was gonna ask that, yes. How did you know? And how did you know I was Rooster"

"Oh, cause I'm good, Rooster. I'm really good" you retort, making Jake laugh.

"Oh no, there's two of them. We're doomed" Bob says, sitting down again.

"I'm guessing Javy was the best-man?" Javy nods at Phoenix, answering her question. "Well, Mrs. Seresin, would you like to play some Dogfight football with us?"

"I don't even know what's that but teach me, and I will play" you say, taking off the sundress and stealing Jake's sunglasses from him.

He looks at you, wondering what had he done in a past life to be this lucky. Good job, good friends, and the perfect wife. His own personal sunshine.

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x you

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matthewfuckinggraygubler · 6 days

Text

Belayed kiss || Spencer Reid

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader · Category: Fluff · Warning: None · Words: 1455 · Summary : Losing your favorite book was a real downer, but having Spencer there to help you search through the chaos of your apartment was a lifesaver. That book was your escape, your safe haven. A spontaneous remark from you shifted the mood,revealing the feelings we'd both been hiding. It was like finding a hidden treasure.

· Spanish on Wattpad. English isn’t my first language, be kind!

· Masterlist

You’d been friends for a couple of years. Well, he would say “2 years, 4 months, 9 days” exactly. And even though no boundaries had ever been crossed and neither of you had wanted to take things further, somehow you both knew there was something more. Without wanting to admit it, because it would imply a shift in dynamics, and that was just too complicated.

It was a quiet morning in your small apartment, but you were anything but calm. The mess of books, cushions, and a few scattered empty coffee cups across the living room was a testament to your frantic search. You had been looking for your favorite book for days, and the frustration was starting to consume you. Spencer, being the good friend he was, had offered to help because this really was a drama for you.

The reason why that book was so important to you was more than just its content. It was a beautiful edition you had bought years ago; with a binding that made you feel safe, the embossed texture of the cover. Opening it filled you with a comforting scent, and each word on its pages embraced you when you needed it most. It was your refuge, your little escape when the world got too loud or confusing.

Spencer was crouched down, inspecting the stack of boxes you had piled in a corner, while you checked a bookshelf for the fourth time, hoping the book would magically materialize. You couldn’t help but feel a knot in your stomach, fearing it was truly lost forever.

Then, suddenly, Spencer broke the silence.

“I found it, it was behind this box, it must have fallen. You should be more organized…”

You spun on your heels, seeing Spencer stand up with the book in his hands, as intact as the last time you had seen it. The mixture of relief and joy was so overwhelming that the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Oh my God!! Thank you!! I could kiss you right now!!”

The silence that followed was palpable. Spencer stood still, his eyes wide as he looked at you, as if trying to decipher whether you had actually said what he thought you had said.

“R-really…?” he asked. The tone of his voice, full of a mix of surprise and disbelief, made you realize what you had just implied.

Your reaction was immediate, laughing a little to ease the tension you noticed in him, brushing it off.

“Well, it’s just a figure of speech, Spencer.”

He nodded slowly, but there was something in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen before, and for a moment, you seemed to see through his calm and rational facade.

“Oh, right, sure… Okay.” He responded, but his voice had a different tone, one that almost seemed… disappointed.

You’d been friends for a couple of years. Well, he would say “2 years, 4 months, 9 days,” exactly. And in all that time, you had built a friendship that was invaluable to you. You shared almost everything: long conversations about the most diverse topics, movie nights, and discussions about literature that stretched into the early hours of the morning. But there was a line, a line neither of you had crossed, and for some reason, the idea of crossing it had always seemed terrifying.

As you sat on the couch, holding the book you had finally recovered, you realized the room was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence. Spencer had sat down beside you, but he was staring at the floor, clearly lost in his thoughts.

Your heart began to race, and you silently cursed yourself for making such an impulsive comment. However, there was something in his reaction that you couldn’t ignore. That spark of vulnerability in his eyes, that tone in his voice… Could it be that Spencer had been waiting for this, maybe even wanting it? That realization made you aware of how much you wanted it too.

The tension between you was now palpable, and you knew that no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, something had changed in the air. There was something more between you, something neither of you had wanted to admit, but now seemed impossible to keep ignoring, and you didn’t know how to go back.

You decided to take a deep breath and break the silence, feeling that if you didn’t, the discomfort would keep growing. And without even realizing it, the words came out, you didn’t think.

“Spence…” you said, your voice nervous, almost inaudible. “I think… I could kiss you right now…”

He turned to look at you with those intense brown eyes. The silence stretched, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. You could feel time slowing down, each second filled with a tension so thick it felt almost tangible. He held your gaze, that gaze that had always been a refuge for you, full of intelligence and warmth.

“R-really…?” he whispered, as if afraid it was a joke or a mistake. As if he wanted to make sure this time you meant it.

Your head moved slowly up and down, confirming it, you could feel the heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. Your heart was beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it too. But you couldn’t back down now, you didn’t want to.

Spencer didn’t say anything else. There was no need. Slowly, as if afraid to break the spell that surrounded you both, he leaned in towards you in a careful movement, but his eyes never left yours, searching for any trace of doubt. There wasn’t any.

When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was as if everything else disappeared. The outside world ceased to exist; there was no time, no space, only that moment, only you and Spencer. The kiss was soft, almost like a question, seeking an answer you both already knew. It was a kiss that had been building for years, full of all the unspoken words and unadmitted feelings. And in that instant, you knew everything had changed, but for the better.

You found yourself moving closer, your hands finding their way to his neck, while he let the book fall, already forgotten, to tangle his fingers in your hair. The kiss deepened, becoming more sure, more urgent, as if both of you were trying to make up for lost time.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, but your foreheads remained together. A small smile formed on your lips, and you noticed Spencer smiling too, though with a touch of shyness that made him even more charming.

“I think… I should have kissed you a long time ago.” You murmured, not daring to break the closeness completely.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his voice warm against your skin. “I’m not sure why we waited so long…”

You looked at him, and in his eyes, you found the same mixture of relief and joy.

“So… does this mean I get to kiss you every time I find a lost book?” he asked with a playful tone.

You playfully smacked his arm, laughing. “You don’t need me to lose a book to want to kiss me, Spencer.”

His eyes sparkled with a tenderness that made you melt. “Can I kiss you now, then?”

You nodded without a second thought, and when his lips found yours again, you knew that no matter how many times you kissed, it would always feel special, intense, like that first kiss. Suddenly, you didn’t feel the need to seek refuge in your book. You felt like you were exactly where you wanted to be. The uncertainty and doubts faded away, and you realized that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you wanted to be, where all the pieces fit perfectly, in Spencer Reid’s · Requests via DM ·

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alexx013 · 1 year

Text

🌼Giving Haikyuu boys flowers🌼

When you were walking back from school, and passed the flower shop you saw pretty flowers that catched your attention. You decided to buy them for your bf. Which flower it is and how will they react?

Characters: Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kenma, Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi

A/N: Hi everyone, hope you have a nice day. I legit got a hand cramp when I was posting this ;---; But oh well, hope you enjoy

Hinata ☀️

You'd give him: Sunflowers

This sunshine absolutely loves them

When you give them to him, you can see his eyes shining (shine bright like a diamond~)

Will immediately pull you into a hug and thank you over and over again

Would send you a pic of the flowers in a vase in his room when he gets home

Kageyama 🥛

You'd give him: Lilies

Also would like them, but tbh I think he'd be a bit confused on why you're buying him flowers

But you'd get his soft smile, and a bit of ear reddening as a reaction

Listen, he might not be verbal with his response but he for sure appreciates the gesture and will treasure the flowers

Might not send you a photo of the flowers, but would take one for himself

Tsukishima 🌙

You'd give him: Evening primrose

Also doesn't know why you want to buy him flowers

Also isn't very responsive after getting the flower, nod of thanks and a tiny blush appearing on his face

But after you visit him few days later you can see that the flowers are being well cared for and are placed in the best vase in his house (according to his mum)

Yamaguchi 🌱

You'd give him: Daisies

Instant bit of a red hue appearing on his ears & freckled face, just looks so adorable

Offers to pay, but upon losing to you in the fight over the payment accepts the gift, loves the flowers

He will forever be grateful for this sweet moment and will try to gift you something in return

He might give a name to the flower bouquet, but that's a secret 🤫 You'll only get the pictures of the flowers with sunset in background

Kenma 🐱

You'd give him: Lavender

Would also get shy, but deep down you know he appreciates the gift

I mean, you can guess that from his ears and neck turning a warm shade of pink

He would mutter a thanks, but when you try to jokingly steal the flowers he'd be like "Give that back, it's mine :("

Even if you don't know it, the plant would get a honorable place in his room (probably far away from his desk tho cause who knows how much sunlight get there)

Kuroo🐔

You'd give him: Pink roses

Would kinda be shocked by the sudden gesture but I don't think he'd show it

Listen, definitely the 4th season smirk and saying "Prettiest flowers for the prettiest boyfriend"

Would still love the flowers very much, and give you a head pat along with a thanks

He would research on when to water the flowers so it doesn't die and they stand in a vase in a sunny spot

Bokuto 🦉

You'd give him: Gerbera daisies

He would absolutely love them, and fall head over heels for you in this moment

Happy jumps & hugs, also would protect the flowers with all his might

He would definitely name each flower, and treat them like children... or try at least

And then at 23:05 you'd get a text "Your children miss you", and you'd be like what 👁️👄👁️

Akaashi ✨

You'd give him: Calla Lilies

Would definitely offer to pay, but would accept the gift after convincing

Would smile softly at you and then while gently "petting" the flowers along with saying a thank you

A little kiss on the forehead cause a hug could ruin the flowers

You know damn well that the flowers will be taken care of well

#haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keji x reader

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just-a-little-cellist · 1 year

Note

Hey its me who asked for your The Unexpected Guest, and it was brilliant! I love the idea of part 2 it makes more sense!

I loved your idea of once they get to Rivendell Thorins and readers feelings are explored and some spicy stuff happens

Thank you, and love your work!☺️x

(I'm really glad you enjoyed it! I'm really sorry for the wait for part 2 - uni work, work work and writer's block are not a great combo and I didn't want to rush this (this part also got WAY longer than I thought it would), plus I've made some minor edits to part 1 since I wasn't totally happy with it - been a hot minute since I wrote smut so I hope this is ok :D thank you all for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!)

(link for part 1 - warning for NSFW content below, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

ghivashel - treasure of all treasures, amralime - my love

An Unexpected Guest pt.2 (Thorin x AFAB!fem!human!reader)

The journey to Rivendell was taxing on all of you, though you couldn't help but feel most sorry for Bilbo. The hobbit was so new to adventuring - you doubted he had ever been out of the Shire before now - and you had decided to support him wherever you could as a helping hand. Just helping him set up camp, saddling his pony in the morning, offering him water, little gestures seemed to make a difference in his demeanor.

Spending time with the hobbit to keep his morale up, especially after the troll attack, did mean that it was getting harder to find a spare moment with Thorin. The two of you had spoken much more frequently since his confession, and you wished for more time, but the whole group was in poor spirits as it was. While they were all happy for you, public displays of affection were just likely to irritate everyone further. And Thorin's burden of leadership would likely not be eased while you were still on the road. For the moment, all you could do was keep moving and offer comfort to whoever needed it.

Needless to say, arriving at Rivendell was a weight off your shoulders. Even if the dwarves tried to pick a fight with Elrond.

You had all taken your time to settle in and relax, having taken full advantage of the elves' hospitality (and you were forever grateful for being able to feel clean after the long journey). When the group of you were provided with dinner and the inevitable food fight broke out, you were happy to see how everyone's spirits had been lifted. However, you couldn't help but notice your One stood to the side. There was a content smile on his face, but you could easily see the tension that still bristled through him.

You soon found him after everybody had retreated to their rooms for the night. It was hard not to hear him - the pacing in his room seemed to echo through the hallway, if only slightly. Raising your hand, you softly knocked at the door, hoping that he wouldn't be too stubborn to talk to you.

"Come in."

Even his tone of voice betrayed his stress. He visibly relaxed when you entered the room though, shutting the door behind you, and you felt glad to at least be some comfort.

You smiled in greeting, and spoke softly. "Will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"I assure you, I am fine. Do not trouble yourself."

You closed the distance between you hesitantly, giving him the chance to back away, and took his hands. "Please, Thorin. I can see something is troubling you."

"I am just... concerned. About the future of this quest, about everyone's safety." You saw a struggle in his mind of not wanting to be vulnerable, but he seemed to give in, and sighed in defeat. "I fear that people are going to be hurt because of me."

"Oh, my love..." you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. "You are the best leader any of us could ask for, and I promise you that you will not be the cause of any hurt."

He gently pulled back and looked into your eyes. "You truly believe that?"

"Of course I do. Those in this company are strong and intelligent. Perhaps with the exception of your nephews," you chuckled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile. "They are all capable of making their own decisions. They knew the risks of coming along, but they have all chosen to join anyway because they saw a courageous dwarf that they wanted to follow."

"I only want to do right by my people."

"And you will. We all have faith in you."

He pressed his forehead to yours again. "You're far too good to me, ghivashel," he murmured.

"All I want is for you to be happy, my love."

And with that, you tilted your head up and kissed him, your fingers tracing his cheekbones as you pulled him closer. It wasn't rushed and clumsy, as it was when Thorin first confessed, but slow and loving, every movement of your lips against his a confession of love in itself. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you flush against him, trying to feel as much of you as possible.

When you separated to take a breath, meeting his lust-filled gaze was all the encouragement you needed.

"I wonder if there's any way I could relieve some of your stress..." Your tone was playful as you slid your hands achingly slowly down Thorin's chest, and you heard him inhale as you stopped just at his hips.

"Amralime, are you sure? If we start I will not want to hold back."

"I trust you, Thorin." You smiled and nodded towards the double bed. "And we may as well take advantage of the luxury while we have it."

He smirked. "I'm beginning to think you came here just to bed me."

"Hey, I would never-"

Your sarcastic reply was cut off by him kissing you again, with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before. Maybe you had awakened something long kept under control, but any coherent thought of that was soon lost when he shrugged the furs off his shoulders and his fingers found the hem of your shirt.

Soon becoming restless feeling him trace the curves of your waist, you broke away from the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt off. Thorin did the same, and after some hurried fumbling between more stolen kisses, you were both undressed. His hands never left your body as he backed you up towards the bed.

"You are so beautiful, ghivashel..." he murmured, lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation, but when he tried to sit you down on the bed, you stopped him.

"Tonight is about you, my love." You turned the two of you around and gently pushed him back to sit down, taking the time to admire his toned body as you knelt in front of him.

Thorin's eyes were wide with surprise and he almost looked as if he wanted to protest, but the twitch of his already hard cock gave him away.

"You... you don't have to-"

"I want to." His breath hitched when your lips traced his thigh, and you smiled. "Relax, my king..."

Any further protest was soon lost when you leaned forward and licked a long stripe up his length, wrenching a gasp from his lips. Your movements were slow, mapping out every inch of him with kitten licks until he was writhing impatiently before you, until you were done teasing and sucked his tip into your mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of breathy groans and muttered Khuzdul that you could barely focus on as you continued. Thorin twisted his fingers into your hair when you began taking him inch by inch into your mouth - his grip was firm, but never controlling - and when you started bobbing your head he was certain that he must've been dreaming.

Looking up at him and pressing your thighs together to suppress your own arousal, you watched his head tilt back in ecstasy every time you pressed your tongue flat against his tip when you rose. The sounds he made were so beautiful that it was becoming more and more difficult to control yourself. Fortunately, it seemed you wouldn't need to for much longer. You felt the tension in his body increase with every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue, and as your movements grew faster you wrapped your hand around the base to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Yet, when you next looked up at him, he gently pushed you away, denying himself climax.

"Is everything alright, my love?"

He leant down for a brief kiss, still breathing heavily, and nodded. "That was... incredible." He took your hands and guided you to stand, then pulled you closer to straddle his lap.

"Then-" You inhaled sharply feeling his lips and teeth over your throat. "Then why didn't you let me finish?"

Thorin didn't answer for a moment, too busy creating a cluster of pink marks along your neck. When he was satisfied with his work, he tugged your hips down to press his hard length against you.

"Because I want to finish inside you, amralime."

You simply nodded, feeling too flustered and on edge to offer any sort of response beyond a whispered, "Please..."

Thorin stood up holding you, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, and carefully laid you down in the center of the bed. He slotted himself between your legs and wasted no time in moving to prepare you. Pausing to receive a nod of consent, he slid one thick finger into you, and you gasped at the sudden feeling. He soon added a second when you began rocking your hips against his hand impatiently, begging for more.

"Patience," he chuckled. "I do not want to hurt you."

"I don't care." You moaned breathlessly with every curl of his fingers. It felt like so much already, but still not enough. "I need you now, Thorin."

"Who would I be to deny my queen?"

He withdrew his fingers and you immediately pulled him forward to kiss you, a soft gasp being pulled from you when he ground his hips against you, ever so lightly pressing against your clit. Holding himself up over you with one hand, he used the other to guide his tip to your entrance and, swallowing your cries in the kiss, he slowly pushed into you.

His hand found yours and your fingers intertwined while he waited for any signs of your discomfort to fade. It was an uncomfortable stretch to fit his thick cock, but it soon became a welcome sensation, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to urge him on.

He moved carefully at first, until your cries of pain became cries of pleasure, and soon his hips snapped back against you much more firmly. Each thrust hit so deep inside of you, filling you up so perfectly, and his fingers gripped your hips almost tight enough to bruise. You clutched onto him tightly, trying to stay grounded amongst the sensations. One hand was buried in his hair, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, the other was digging into his back, leaving scratches that you were sure would last a few days at least. Though it didn't seem to bother him - every time you dug your nails into his back, it seemed to be encouragement, and he relentlessly kept up his pace. It was firm and deep, but never rough, though part of you wondered how hard he would go if you asked.

With each thrust, you bucked your hips to meet him, trying to get more friction to ignite the coil of heat growing in your core. Thorin's moans soon grew louder, despite him trying to remain as quiet as he could, and when his rhythm grew unsteady his fingers slipped down to circle your clit as his teeth latched onto your neck again.

"Ghivashel..." he murmured, his voice strained. "I'm so close..."

Your mind was spinning with pleasure, and you felt yourself reaching your peak as well. "I am too..." you panted.

His hips shifted just enough to hit a spot inside you to make you see stars, and along with the attention on your clit and your neck, it was enough to push you over the edge. Your grip on him tightened as the coil snapped and heat spread through your body, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your cry of pleasure.

It seemed to last forever, and in your pleasure-filled haziness you registered Thorin also growing tense, and you heard his deep groan as he reached his climax and came inside of you. He felt so perfect, and you both stayed clinging onto each other, lost for breath, until you both came to.

Still catching his breath, he kissed your forehead and pulled out to lie next to you, and you couldn't help but whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He lay on his side, facing you, and brought your hand up to his lips. "You are so wonderful, amralime."

You smiled softly and shuffled closer, putting an arm over his waist and tucking your head under his. "So are you, my king."

You glanced back at the door to the room and chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should lock the door next time."

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit smut #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit imagine #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin smut #thorin x reader smut #thorin x reader lemon

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siren-serenity · 1 year

Text

off to the grand line we go

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖 tell me, what is your dream? to become stronger? to roam the seas in sight for freedom? whatever you want, the sea is willing to offer

-all written by 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍-

note: the ones with (nsfw) are not suitable for minors! minors dni. however, those without any other labelling are safe for everyone :)

𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐄'𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 note: i've only watched a couple of one piece episodes so i'm not that sure of what arcs or whatever is happening. please be patient with me!! i will not write nsfw for non-humanoid characters ex. chopper honorary tag for sfw works, sanji + ace -> @officialdaydreamer00

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 ↳˳;; ❝ who is luffy to you?ᵕ̈೫˚∗

you would forever immortalize that day. the fated day in which you met the mugiwaras, or the straw hat pirates. luffy, thrusting his hand into your field of vision, mouth grinning and an odd laughter bursting from him. then, in the corner of your eye, you saw everyone else with an earnest look in their eyes. "join my crew!" luffy beamed, like sunshine, like the sun itself. your soul ignited. your heart resonating, beating like drums in your chest. "aye," you grinned, clapping your hand into his. "i pledge to make you king of the pirates!"

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 ↳˳;; ❝ pillow prince (nsfw)ᵕ̈೫˚∗

sanji's hands are shaking as he holds yours, cradling them as if they were the finest piece of treasure in all the seas. his eyes are earnest, glimmering as always whenever he looks at something he loves, but they're more sincere than ever. "my dream is not just the all blue anymore. it's you and it's always been you."

𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐆𝐀𝐒 𝐃. 𝐀𝐂𝐄 ↳˳;; ❝ lucky to have youᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ who is luffy to you?ᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ when he loves you (ace ver. part two)ᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ you're so in loveᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ midnight snacks, midnight confessions (modern au!)ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"i never thought there was someone out there who could love me," ace blows out a wisp of smoke from his mouth, looking outwards from where he leaned on the railing of whitebeard's ship. the sunset highlighted his rugged looks that always made your heart stutter. his next words are quiet, murmured like a sacred whisper. "but then you proved me wrong."

𝐑𝐄𝐃-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 ↳˳;; ❝ when he loves you (shanks ver. part one)ᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ who is luffy to you?ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"let's just drink our sorrows away," shanks lifted up a heavy bottle of rum before giving you a light-hearted grin. the sun rising behind him lit up his ruby hair and he seemed to glow otherworldly. "or shall we just drink merrily until we're black-out drunk?"

𝐁𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 ↳˳;; ❝ my favorite shade of blueᵕ̈೫˚∗ ↳˳;; ❝ when he loves you (buggy ver. part three)ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"you," buggy grabbed your chin, tugging you closer to him. his lips curved upwards into a scarlet-smeared grin. blue eyes glimmered and shimmered with a hint of insanity yet there was something about the look in his eyes that made you drawn into the craziness of him. "you will be the greatest act of all."

𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐄 '𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐎𝐍' 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄 ↳˳;; ❝ morning routinesᵕ̈೫˚∗

you let an exasperated, yet concern-filled sigh escape your lips, hands bandaging his injured shoulder with ease. rosinante watches you with the slightest hint of guilt brimming in his eyes and you immediately felt soft again- no! he set himself on fire again! you must stay strict and- "thank you," rosinante grinned at you, charming in his own unique way, and you felt your heart flutter. "i love you."

𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐀 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 ↳˳;; ❝ i just wanna kiss youᵕ̈೫˚∗

"i swear, on my blade, that i will always protect you," zoro pledged and he seemed so serious that you didn't retort as you usually did. he sheathed wado ichimonji and then held your hands in his own calloused ones. the sun had set behind him and outlined his well-built body against the brilliant blue sky. "i swear it, because i will always prioritize you first and foremost." he took your breath away. he always had and always will.

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃. 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐖 ↳˳;; ❝ early dawnsᵕ̈೫˚∗

"thank you," law whispers. he holds you tight to his chest, inhaling your sweet, unique aroma paired with the metallic, sharp scent of blood. thankfully, the majority of it wasn't yours and you were alive, in his arms. "never do that again. please." law is begging, perhaps for the first time in a long time. but he will get down on his knees and do every humiliating action if you could remain safe forever.

𝐁𝐎𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊 ↳˳;; ❝ eyes and smiles (my heart beats louder)ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"in this vast sea," hancock murmurs, having a lost look in her eyes. you step closer, embracing her gently with a hand cradling her head to you. "my love for you transcends everything." she leans back to look you in the eye and to your surprise, they had small shimmers of tears in the corners. she smiled and it was like the sun had blessed you with warmth. "perhaps our love is the most beautiful of them all."

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sulumuns-dootah · 11 months

Note

Hiiii. I've been seeing and liking all your headcanons until now.

I was wondering if you can do a short fix with Bael or Mammon with a s/o (or mc however you want) who is extremely insecure about all her assets?

I've been struggling with this for forever and I'd like some reassurance from either of my favourite demons.

But ofc if you don't want to I understand.

Have a great day/evening/night. :)

A/N: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my writing and I hope you like this one too. ^^

Mammon, Bael w/ Insecure s/o

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

Characters: Mammon, Bael

༺☆༻

Mammon

“Oh treasure, you can't be serious.” Mammon hoarsely laughs when you confess your insecurities about your body to him. His laugh only falters the moment he sees your hurt expression with glossed over eyes threatening to spill tears at any moment.

“Treasure, you are serious?” His question sounds more like a statement, which both of you know is true. The evident remorse in his voice made you feel better, seeing that he didn't mean to disregard your insecurities.

“I'm sorry. I thought that knowing what you do to me, would be enough to prove to you how truly divine you are. I suppose, I haven't expressed my appreciation enough.” He pulls you in for a tight hug, making sure to drag his hands slowly from your thighs to your lover back. Following all the curves your body has to offer along the way.

You can't help but bury your face into his perfectly sculpted muscles and breathe in the scent that can only be described as ancient.

“I might've been somewhat hasty in showing my adoration of such exquisite piece of art. Would you allow me show it properly this time?” Mammon says pulling back after a while, extending his hand for you to accept or reject his offer. You look into his eyes only to see them silently beg that you let him show you, how beautiful you truly are. As you take his hand in agreement, he leads you to his bedroom to make sure you never forget the way he sees you.

༺☆༻

Bael

“What is it, dearest? I'm kinda busy at the moment. The King ran away again and these papers need to be done by midnight.” Bael says completely engrossed in a mess of papers. Beelzebub had long time ago taught him his handwriting, so he can spend more time out and about.

“It's nothing. It's just that I don't feel good about my body.” You confess, only able to guess his reaction as you can't bring yourself to look up at him from the ground.

“That's not nothing. Did anyone have any negative remarks towards you?” He turns on his chair towards you, or at least you presume since his feet are now facing your way and his voice sounds less distant.

“No, nobody said anything.” You shake you head slightly, daring to look up higher to see his legs. Just from the way his legs are positioned, you can tell he's worried.

“Good. I was worried, I'd have to send Naberius or Stolas to some ill-minded demon, who had a death wish.” The way he sounds relieved makes it hard for you to continue. Before you get to speak up again he turns back to his work mumbling about how he's never gonna let Beelzebub live down the fact he left him so much last minute work.

“It's me who has these thoughts. But I'll let you get back to your work I guess.” You turn around and start walking towards the door leading out of the office. But before you can fully open the door, it's forcefully slammed by Baels hand and you're turned around to face him. He pushes you up against it and takes your face into his hands. You finally dare to look him in the eyes and see that he's more worried than he seemed before. His thumbs swipe away tears you didn't notice slipped from you eyes.

“Care to tell me all about these thoughts then, so I can disprove every single one of them?” He licks his lips and lowers his head to get a whiff of your sweet scent from the crook of your neck.

“But what about the paperwork?” You shakily breathe out, still surprised from all the things that have happened in the past few seconds.

“That can wait. You are more important.”

#what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb mammon #whb bael

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

Text

I've been dreaming of the Deep Sea Tactician.

The Sea Witch has to be as shrewd as he is kind, collecting all manner of wealth.

All the treasures in the world, his--but what is truly invaluable to him is...

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Please sign right here on the dotted line.”

Azul taps on the line in question and offers the client his pen. It's a marvel, gifted to him by his stepfather upon graduation. The pen is carved of bone and made to resemble a fish's insides, the nib flaring out into ribs and then ending in a skeletal tail.

The writing implement is claimed.

He watches with eager eyes as the client scrawls on the golden parchment. The signature flows as smoothly as the ink writing it, and as easily as the conversation exchanged with the signer.

One leg of the letter K drags out, underlining the entirety of his first name.

Kalim Al-Asim.

"There you go!" he declares, sliding the contract and the pen back to Azul.

“Thank you very much!" he gushes, snatching up the paper like an octopus might ensnare its target--it is worth its weight in gold, and more. "It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Kalim-san.” “My people will be in contact with your people.”

"Looking forward to it." Kalim reclines in his cushy armchair--one of many that decorate Azul's office. "It's crazy how things work out, huh? I didn't think this is how we'd reunite all these years later."

"Fufufu, it must be fate. I'm honored that you would come and seek me out like this."

Azul rolls up the contract and ties it with a string. It will soon be filed away with the others in an ever-expanding vault.

"Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the heir to the Asim trading company would approach me for a franchising opportunity."

"Everyone wants a piece of the hottest new restaurant chain. You see Mostro Lounges everywhere now. Having locations in the Scalding Sands can offer tourists a little bit of home away from home if they want the option of something familiar."

"Of course, I completely understand," Azul drawls. "On our end, we will do our utmost to craft unique menu items which will showcase the best of what your home country has to offer. It's sure to be a success!"

Calm, he may display outwardly--but inside, Azul is cheering, fist pumping, and bouncing off the walls with glee. Securing this deal is massive for him, for his business.

"We should celebrate," Kalim suggests, gesturing for his attendant. He wears many bejeweled rings which sparkle with the flicker of his fingers. "A drink? I can call for a bottle of the finest wine."

Azul holds up both hands. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly. I'm afraid I have a lunch engagement right after this. I wouldn't want to ruin my appetite."

His client laughs from his belly, deep and resonant. "I won't keep you any longer then. You have my contact information if you need to discuss the project."

Kalim rises, and at once, his attendant is magically at his side, helping him into his coat.

Azul waits several minutes after they've filed out to enter the code into his safe and deposit the agreement safely inside. The vault door swings shut with a heavy CLANG--and upon its shiny metallic face, he glimpses himself. He's grinning like a cat that has gotten the cream.

His digital watch blinks on, buzzing slightly. Right on cue, his alarm is going off.

Lunch.

Azul heads for the door, tidying himself up on the way. Adjusting the brim of his hat, the lapels of his suit. He mustn't be embarrassed, mustn't be teased.

He opens the door and--

POP, POP, POP!!

Confetti rains down, catching in his headwear and the jacket that hangs off of his shoulders. His assailants wear the same sharp-toothed smiles and mischievous glint to their eyes.

"Jade, Floyd. You two never cease to surprise, do you?" Azul sighs, brushing off the confetti and letting it flutter to the ground. "I thought the plan was to meet at the restaurant, not at my office."

"That was the original intent, yes."

"We changed our minds and came to see you instead, since it's such a big day!" Floyd elbows him. "Finally cinched that big deal with Sea Otter-chan, eh? Now you can make truckloads more money!"

"It's not about the money," Azul corrects him. "The money is nice, yes--but it's the new connections which will prove to be a long-term benefit.

"A clause in the contract stipulates access to the highest quality ingredients procured by the Asims. If all goes well, I can make other requests! Fine china, lavish furniture, a working relationship with Kalim-san, a hefty name with which to brag to other potential clients...!"

The world, his oyster.

The idea makes his smirk grow into a smile.

"Fufufu, things are looking up for the Mostro Lounge's empire! Then even more dough will roll in, far more than the upfront costs of the initial investment!!"

"Aaaah, Jade. Looks like he's lost it again."

"You're right, Floyd. I can practically see the thaumark signs in his eyes," Jade chuckles. "It's good to see that you haven't changed in all these years, Azul. You're still every bit as amusing as you were back then."

"Hmph!" He folds his arms. "What did you expect, that I'd collapse into a wobbling mess without you two at my beck and call? I'll have you know that I'm perfectly competent and capable of running a business without you."

The twins share a skeptical look with one another.

"That's his way of saying he misses having us around. He wants to hang out with us sooo bad."

"It most certainly is. He misses our companionship so much that he personally reached out to invite us to a meal to reconnect."

"And brag about his accomplishments."

"Yes, that as well."

"I-I did NOT!!"

"Tsk, tsk, Azul. You should be more honest with yourself," Jade tuts. "All this success, and you're still unable to afford an ounce of humility? I'm appalled."

"That's rich, coming from you," Azul shoots back. "I could have lunch with any number of wealthy and powerful clientele, but I've chosen to have it with you two! Is that alone not enough humility for you?!"

"Awww, so you did miss us!"

Azul's cheeks color. "I-I never said that!"

So much for not being embarrassed, not being teased. Some way or another, he always falls prey to the Leech brothers' antics.

"He's still being shy, Jade."

"He is, Floyd."

"Know what? This calls for a group hug. I bet that'll help him open up to us."

"You're absolutely right. A group hug will fix this matter in a matter of moments."

"Excuse me?! I-I do not consent to this in any way whatsoever! We must be on our way, our reservation will not hold forev..."

GLOMP!

Azul is embraced from both sides, Jade and Floyd's arms wrapping around him and squeezing him tight. He gasps for air, wriggling between them.

"... Fine, you win," Azul groans, melting into the hug. He tells himself that he has simply given up, not that he enjoys the closeness, the intimacy of friendship. "Are you satisfied?"

"Very~" Jade and Floyd chorus.

"If that's the case, then we'd better get going. That reservation really will expire if we overshoot the 15-minute grace period." Azul pauses, then frowns. "I certainly hope you weren't thinking of walking all the way to the restaurant clinging to me like this. I have a public image to maintain."

Neither brother budges.

"... Jade? Floyd? You did hear me just now, didn't you?"

"Hm, did you hear that, Floyd? It sounded like a mosquito buzzing in my ear."

"I didn't hear anything at all, Jade. Maybe it was just the wind!"

"You two...!!"

Their bickering floats down the hallway and meets a pair of pointed ears.

Ah, squabbling—the true sign of a happy reunion. The listener grins.

“Many blessings upon you, Ashengrotto and company.”

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cometchasinglove · 5 months

Note

❓+❤️‍🩹 for Tfp Starscream!! -<3

❓ - "Is this what you want?"

❤️‍🩹 - Healing.

Ask Game

Solace

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma

Word Count: 590

In the berthroom, Starscream stirred from his half-stasis nap to the sound of a faint, meek cry. It was short but painful, something he came to recognize instantly. His wings twitched behind him as he blinked open his ruby optics, focusing on the girl who wept and shuddered on his chest. Her tummy was pressed to his plating, and her head was lowered. Sensing a familiar pattern, the mech straightened himself and gently stroked the back of her striped, pink nightshirt with a claw.

“Now, now, Little Mouse,” he said above her cries. “There is no need to fret. I’m here.”

He held a steady tone of voice, not wanting to worsen her episode. Using the point of his claw, he lifted her chin. Finally, he could see her luminous, green eyes. He frowned at her, empathizing with her anxiety.

“Was it…another nightmare?”

Juniper sniffled and nodded, allowing his servos to grab her in a soft and tender hold. Starscream cupped her tiny body in his claws, never squeezing or tightening. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she attempted to keep her voice at a pitiful whisper.

“It was…Megatron. Again.”

Starscream paused, gritting his denta.

“The branding?”

A mark of loyalty. Thanks to Primus, the insignia was erased from her lower back, but she still felt the burn.

Juniper glanced away from him, her red hair falling across her face.

“And…other things.”

For a moment, Starscream went quiet, not entirely sure if he should press her for more information. From what he learned of her, she was incredibly stubborn and tenacious. She was a fighter, and she never surrendered, even in the face of humans like Silas. At first, Starscream hated it. Eventually, however, he grew accustomed to it and even admired it.

Nonetheless, her previous position as an ally to the Decepticons often left her nervous and vulnerable. It wasn’t her fault. Unlike the Decepticons themselves, she never asked for it. And Starscream felt terrible. After all, Megatron wasn’t the only one who played a part in her trauma.

The mech brought her near his faceplate, lightly rubbing his helm against her forehead. He calmed her, speaking softly and encouragingly to her. As she cried, he found himself tearing up as well.

“You have…nothing to fear when I’m around.” Starscream pressed a kiss to the side of her face. “I promise.”

‘Not even me,’ he thought. ‘Not anymore.’

He vowed it.

It took some time, but Juniper managed to settle in his embrace, her wails faltering to little sniffles. When the woman cuddled him, he brushed his claw over her tummy, staring past her clothes and into her skin, where the scar he created still resided. Forever.

“Thank you.” Juniper hiccuped. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Starscream offered her a smile, remembering their past well.

“You may perish, just as I would without you.”

She smirked at him. He was proud to make her giggle, knowing that she would be fine. But then, Starscream felt something flicker inside his chest, and his gaze softened to display a hint of reluctance.

“Juni?”

She rubbed her eyes.

“Yes?”

Starscream lowered his helm, lifting a claw for her to grab.

“Is this what you want?” He drew every word from his spark. “To stay here…with me?”

There was another nanosec of silence. And then, Juniper grabbed his claw and hugged him close.

“I do.” She kissed his digit. “I promise you, I do, Starscream.”

The Cybertronian closed his optics, feeling and treasuring the reassurance from her words and lips.

Divider Credit: @/saradika

#🐭 scared of the dark 🕊️#replies #mouseyindulgence #starscream #transformers prime #my fics #self insert #self ship #self shipping #juniper redthorne

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hutahuta · 10 months

Note

I SAW PAVIA AND STARTED SPRINTING, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE

Maybe some headcannons about a protective Pavia? I mean, being a mercenary probably has gotten him some (read as a lot) of enemies, especially considering he’s good at his job! So it wouldn’t be a surprise if his partner got targeted as a way of getting to him. Obviously, Pavia’s not gonna let that happen, not by a long shot. Maybe hurt/comfort in a way? And gender neutral if it’s okay!

P.AGE OO.2 — 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

thank you for requesting, i hope you like this <333 ( •̀∀•́ )ﾗ✧ !

Unfortunately for him, Pavia bore the scars of a life that was etched by loss and fleeting connections. No human ever got as close as you did with him, so it was important to protect such things. Yes?

His heart encased in solid steel and armour, found solace in the comfort of your arms. Yes, this man was laid back most of the time, but under that thick smile of purity and hearty laughs, he wanted to keep you forever as his own.

Embellished in jewels and tied and restrained for himself. Guarded by his sole bonds of his canine family, he couldn't possibly think of letting you be exposed to the outside danger out there.

Every beat of his heart echoed with the lingering memories of his past separations. His bond broken with his family and his scarred nature of a relationship broken down with his aunt. He doesn't know how to handle such things, he wasn't taught proper coping mechanisms.

You, vulnerable to attacks, not necessarily naive but still innocent as a feather; are more susceptible to violence catered by Pavia's enemies surrounding him on a day-to-day basis..

And—,, the thought maliciously stabs him every single time. To see you lying in your own warm, pool of blood. He hated the sight, and vowed to always keep you with him, safe and sound even if it meant his own skin will be torn apart. Pavia, originally, had nothing left to lose. He had nothing to go down with. His legacy was scarred with the torment of his past. His family had no connections with him whatsoever, and he planned to keep it that way.

This fear, an indelible mark left by the merciless hands of fate, propelled Pavia to assume the role of a vigilant guardian. He shielded his beloved with unwavering determination, an impassable fortress erected to defy the encroaching shadows of abandonment.

Skeletal hands trace the outline of your jawline towards the base of your neck, leaving lingering touches that'll never fade away for months to come. You'll always remember how he told you.

` Non allontanarti troppo dal mio cammino.. Amore. `

Which meant, ' Don't stray too far from my path, love. ' His hands firmly gripped your waist, leaving soft kisses that marked the vow of his undying love for you.

He shudders to think of your figure being manhandled by someone who would bruise such tender skin of yours, to discard your love and treat you like nothing but a used rug. You're nothing of the sort, to him.

Precious diamonds and jewels like you need to be treasured, kept under someone's eyes like Pavia's. Right?

It's conflicting, to say the least. You'd wonder why he's so protective when it's mixed with such a lazed stare. A laid-back figure who offers you juice and drinks at parties and festivals. But he isn't stupid enough to let you wander too far. Just think what could happen-

Someone kidnaps you, holds you for ransom? Knowing Pavia, he's smart enough to go along with such plans then storm into the area himself and take you back. Leaving only the echoes of men screaming, bodies thudding against the floor as they get a bullet launched into their skulls.

That won't happen though, right? He's not stupid enough to let you go like that..

Pavia struggles to keep himself from being too overprotective to the point you feel suffocated, to being too laid-back that it makes him seem uncaring and unloving. He wants to let you go do your own thing, after all.. that's why he loves you, right? That's why he fell in love with you.

But it pains him to think that now you've officially established something deep with him, he could be at fault for your uneasy, incoming death. You're at heavy risk if you step too close to the edge of his outside perimeter.. That's why-

You stay with him. Right beside him.

Excuse him when he pulls you closer by his waist when near enormous crowds and traffic during festivities.

Don't mind his behaviour as he trails a hand down your thigh to subtly mark to others that you have not one, not two, not even three, but a whole family of dogs watching over your guard.

You have eyes on you 24/7. Don't forget that. Now you're with him, it's important you try to manage your way through this skilfully with the intent to have the best possible outcome with your protective little man.

Safe to say, he won't let anything bad happen as I stated previously. Just as long as you follow the rules he gave. It's his way of trying to tell you that he has boundaries and he wants you to stick with him almost every time both of you are out.

His protective stance wasn’t fueled by dominance but rather by a desperation to defy the cruel whims of destiny, to safeguard the one person who illuminated the shadows of his tumultuous existence. In their presence, Pavia found a fragile haven, one he fiercely guarded against the specter of loss that loomed ominously over his turbulent life.

As you know, despite Pavia’s instinctive urge to shield you, he wrestled with the awareness that his protective demeanor might eventually suffocate the relationship. To counterbalance his guarded nature, Pavia embarked on a path of intentional vulnerability, striving to open up the vault of his emotions..

He tends to be honest with you then and there, but often finds himself leading the conversation into something else more uplifting. All in his worries that you might see him as him trying to justify his actions, which is possibly why he cannot exactly open up fully. That, and he just can't help but talk about other stuff mid-sentence. Learning more about you, your boundaries, your silly interests is just.. more of a reason to keep you safe.

He doesn't know communication skills all that well. But he takes it on after you, so guide him properly and heal those scars that may linger for a life time.

But if you stick around, he's sure to let go of the tension on his shoulders a few times and enjoy quality time with you without the doubt you'd potentially get harmed in the process of your relationship. <3

#reverse #reverse 1999 #paviarev1999 #pavia reverse 1999 #r99 pavia #pavia x reader #reverse 1999 pavia #pavia #this man makes me feral #insanely FERAL #INSANELY GORGEOUS #GEREJEJRRKRJ imagine him literally pinning you against a wall and whispering whispers of how you belong to him through his kisses OMGNFJWKEJ

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fleursbending · 2 years

Note

hello!! i hope you're doing well and don't forget to take care of yourself!!

could i please request a lo'ak x fem metkayina reader with dialogue prompt 5?

thank you so much if you do!! make sure you're taking breaks, okay? <3

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐭. | Lo'ak Sully

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : while you were one of the most sought members of the clan for your intelligence, sometimes you tended to be as dense as a rock. or in other words, lo’ak proves time and time again - that he only wishes to be worthy of your love.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : lo'ak sully x fem!metkayina reader

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 : 5. "Would you acknowledge my feelings for you if I kissed you right now? You can't seem to take a damn hint, [name]."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : this was part of a writing event i did for reaching 100 followers, it's crazy to me that now we are on the way to 1000. i'm forever grateful of all the love and support you guys give me! an official permanent prompt list will be up soon where you can request whatever you'd like any time. "ˏˋ °•*⁀➷" indicates a flashback. anyways enjoy loverboy lo'ak <333.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dumb with love reader trope, reader is a dense mf, lo'ak is a lovesick fool, a lil angst but mostly fluff, minor cussing.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.4k words !!!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @eywas-heir @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn @scarlettwitch-4 @23victoria @avidreader3107 @purplehyacinthss @itssiaaax @neteyamoa @tsireyasgf @nijirozzz @useryourbut @yua-himari @sweetheartlizzie07 @grierpilots @reneehillary69 @fruitsalad1

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, well almost everything it seems. The Metkayina clan admired you for your intelligence and quick thinking under pressure. Somehow you always found a way to alleviate high-tension situations and find solutions to ongoing issues in your community.

Y/n was most well-known for her baskets, and while that may sound odd. It was her pride and joy. She’d found ways to intricately weave baskets of different sizes and durabilities. Being able to have more room for storage, or able to withhold more weight. It would give her an immense amount of comfort when people would praise her for such random yet useful interventions.

For example, “the carrier” - an object weaved in the shape of the Na’vis shoulders so you can hang your clothes on them! A true miracle worker.

Don’t get Lo’ak wrong, he absolutely treasured those aspects of Y/n. But you were outright dumb sometimes, which was quite the contrasting statement.

The poor Sully boy could hold a sign saying, “I don’t just see you, I thrive in your presence. I am the best version of myself when I am with you. I really like you!” Yet you’d still just nod and even fist-bump him, probably commenting on how sweet he is.

Like God damn woman, take a hint!

Were you just blind to love? Playing hard to get? Oblivious? Lo’ak truly did not know, and Kiri did not offer much help in that department either.

The two girls were just starting to get close to one another, alongside Tsireya. And no one else wanted to be friends with the eldest Sully daughter. She was not risking a strain in a newly developed friendship just to help his ass feel better.

Maybe, he thought. Just maybe he wasn’t being obvious enough? From then on he decides to go the extra mile with his intentions.

Getting your food for you, walking you to places. Getting callouses and blisters on his hands just to learn your almost mystical weaving techniques just to take some of the workload off you.

Neteyam had witnessed these obvious advances and the shift in his demeanor, deciding to use this as ample opportunity to tease him.

He remarked, “Baby brother, that is what friends do.”

The younger had hissed, pushing the eldest in annoyance.

Friends?! Is he fucking with me? Absolutely not. The boy had muttered to himself as he begrudgingly stomped out of the mauri.

A new determination flickered in his eyes as he saw you in the distance, snickering at whatever girls talk about with Tsireya.

Lo’ak would do whatever it takes and prove that he is worthy of your attention and love.

Instead of doing the normal thing, like asking your parents if he can court you. He figured, eh? Why not stir the pot in his own way? He’s an independent young man! He can handle this on his own.

His touches began to linger more, it felt like his scent had been roped to your skin. Always attentively wrapping an arm around your shoulders, or his large hand would basically engulf the entirety of your wrist. He’d guide you to little spots on the outskirts of Awa’atlu that he personally found great comfort in, even then the skin-to-skin contact would linger.

These were places you’ve lived amongst your entire life but always brushed by in passing. Your heart would grow twice the size, being able to witness the fondness twinkling in his eyes as he’d appreciate every single part of nature he came across.

It lit a spark deep within your bones, one you’d furiously try to stomp on to take out.

Lo’ak did not help in that sense, considering he’d show how protective he was over you whenever a fellow boy of the clan would give you even an ounce of their attention. You’d nag at him to stop the act, saying you could handle it on your own.

The cherry on top? You’d pinch his cheek, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

No, “Lo’ak you’re so handsome”. Or, “Lo’ak you take such great care of me, I like you too!”.

Day by day, he was becoming more fed up and frustrated. All he had to do back at home was slightly teasingly flirt with a girl for the heck of it, and they’d already be profusely blushing.

But you had that sweet smile always gracing your face, and it wasn’t that he didn’t love it. Because frankly, he really does.

It just felt like he was getting nowhere, prancing back and forth to try to encase himself in your heart.

Lo’ak’s ego has never been shot down like this before, and it was dampening his mood. He just wanted to dote on you, be there for you. Not like he was now, but as a partner. Someone who could kiss you, cuddle you. He craved for you to ease his worries, to reciprocate his tumultuous feelings.

To him, it felt like he was climbing up a tree that very soon he’d be pushed down from. He was praying to Eywa that all his efforts would be worth it in the end.

If only he already knew Y/n returned all his feelings. To be fair, you weren’t the greatest at showing or even expressing it. In her eyes, she doesn’t perceive any of these motions Lo’ak is going through as anything more than platonic.

Even Kiri is tired of this, because yeah. Maybe this friendship is willing to be strained and bent a bit because her dear brother is losing his literal marbles.

She can’t fault you though, you’ve told her time and time again. No boy had ever expressed such avid interest in you, you’ve always been an afterthought to them. They were almost always sent your way to collect your creations for their families. In their eyes, the Olo'eyktan's daughter was far more of a catch than she would ever be.

You were okay with that, to some degree it benefitted you. Although not this time.

His insecurities started to riddle him, eating up all the hopes and desires he had painted for the both of you. Can he not live up to whatever prior expectations you may already have going on in your pretty mind? Lo’ak can’t help but overthink because he feels like he is going nowhere.

Now, that wasn’t your intention at all. There was something about the boy that utterly terrified you, he was the first guy in her life that she actually considered a friend. That meant the entire world they orbited around to her. Lo’ak to her was new waves of entirely unexplored waters. It was a feeling that she hadn’t been able to delve into for eons.

Yn’s clan was isolated, in the middle of the ocean. Scattered amongst dozens of other villages alike the one she inhabits. Nothing remotely new had graced their presence for so long.

How dare she not fall for the inquisitive and rebellious forest boy? Every day he gave her a taste of something so avant-garde to her already influential mind. Every day he gave her a new perspective and angle to a place she’s coexisted in her entire life.

So while Lo’ak was concerned about his feelings being dismissed, Y/n was winded from even encountering them in the first place.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˳೫˚

There was something amiss.

It’s now midday, and there hasn’t been any sighting of Lo’ak. Y/n didn’t see him at breakfast, or at his mauri. He wasn’t at their usual meeting spot either. She remembers it like the back of her hand, the corner to turn to get to her own mauri. He’d always be standing there with a coy smirk, leaning against the structure pole closest to him. Not today, though.

You’d been looking for him all day, even asking his siblings. They all gave you the same answer. “Do we ever know what he is truly up to?”

Yeah, they had a good point on that one.

Y/n couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling nibbling at her stomach though. She had looked to where their families Ilu’s were kept, his was still there. She swam in the ocean, diving to his favorite spots. Her eyes even caught sight of Payakan in the distance, and there was no cute boy from the forest by his side.

You start to feel a great sense of loss. This was something you certainly were not used to and never wanted to be. Day in and day out, he was without a doubt always here. By your side.

There was a certain emptiness creeping under your bones, lapping at the crevices of your heart and situating there. Dread poured down on you like the rain kissing at your teal skin.

For the first time in these last few months, you had never felt so alone.

Y/n had never felt so utterly vexed, and no one around her was giving any fucks.

(Stupid Lo’ak, teaching her curse words. Stupid Lo’ak, for making her care so damn fucking much.)

She stomped to her mauri, letting out a restless sigh as the rain ceased. Grabbing at her supplies she made it her own personal mission to situate at a part of the island not regularly inhabited.

You missed him and the solace his presence brought you. His little snarky remarks or complaints about Ao’nung being a dickhead again. Or Lo’ak whining as you would mend his wounds, blisters scattered across his palms and fingertips. Work and effort he had put into helping you figure out the new invention that had been weighing on your mind.

Just the little things that should be so minor, weren’t to you.

Now you can’t help but ponder on it, maybe he does feel the same way you do? That perhaps it wasn’t all so black and white. Rather instead, something far more complex and out of your vicinity.

Another sigh fell from your lips at the thoughts that you continued to mull over. Leaning against the tree behind you, when suddenly the importance of this place hit you.

It was the first time you had witnessed Lo’ak, all alone.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˳೫

ˏˋ °•*⁀➷ No parents nearby were scouring his every move, siblings lingering to tease him and oddly make him feel even more like an outcast. Thank Eywa too, for there were no bullies there.

It was just him and you now.

Y/n could tell he was dealing with utter turmoil, so you had adjusted your hold on the basket full of materials weighing heavily in your arms. Oddly enough it was filled with things to weave even more baskets, this time of varying sizes with colour in them. You wanted them to look more pretty, and eye-catching.

She watched as his hands that were dug into the sand, moved to scribble whatever his heart had desired to draw. They came to a still, as your presence drew itself closer to his.

Lo’ak was convinced you’d ignore him out of shameless disgust, just like everyone else does in this clan, and walk by without a word. But all you had given him was that smile, and he knew from then on your soul was too gentle for this cursed world.

You tilted your basket to him, showing the contents inside of it. “Would you like to learn how to make the best baskets in all of Metkayina?” She peered down at him, with such tender luminous eyes.

How could he say no to that?

His mind was astray, and he didn’t really know how you knew that he needed a distraction.

But with a nod of his head, as he straightened his posture, you let out a quiet noise - something akin to a cheer. Making yourself comfortable in front of him as you sat down, you took everything out and laid it on the sand with such care.

There, he tuned in to another lesson.

The whole time he pretended he didn’t know anything, Neytiri totally didn’t teach him how to weave or anything at a young age, not at all! He had good reasoning to do so because your voice sounded and felt so saccharine and cozy. It had reminded him of the fruits back at home.

Lo’ak also couldn’t help but admire how your worry lines would become evident and scrunch up when he’d make a little rookie mistake. Ever patient as you are, you’d glide your hand over his and ease him over the instructions once again.

For a boy who complained so much, not a peep came from his mouth as he learned from you.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˳೫

A strange sense of deja vu washed over Lo’ak as he witnessed you leaning against an all too familiar tree. Y/n was mapping out the contents of her mind into the grains of sand closest to her.

He’d been nestled in his own head the whole day, trying to understand the situation he had desperately wondered if he should pluck himself out of.

Lo’ak wondered then, had you admired him just as much as he was in this very moment?

Taking a deep breath, he then stalked over to you.

The swooshing of the sand moving abruptly caught your attention, making Y/’s eyes dart up.

You call for Lo’ak, and it melts him to the core. He always loves the unintentional dip in your tone whenever you’d pronounce the last part of his name.

He didn’t know what burned in him then, but he felt it was now or never.

As he grabbed your arms and dragged you up, Y/n could only stumble into his chest with a faint “oomph”. The Sully boy leaned back, hands drastically moving to smooth your hair back which had fluttered everywhere due to his abrupt actions.

He gazes at you then, unpacking everything that made you who you are for the hell of it. For the reason that he’s afraid. He’ll wither in tremendous sorrow if he doesn’t get some form of confirmation from you.

Lo’ak cannot keep playing himself with the what-ifs, he needed to hear what now.

"Would you acknowledge my feelings for you if I kissed you right now? You can't seem to take a damn hint, Y/n," Lo’ak uttered with a voice mellowed in affection.

Her mouth opened, then closed, repeat. Gaping, reminiscent of the fish in the ocean a few steps away from both of them. With watchful eyes he saw as you suck your teeth in, nibbling nervously on your bottom lip.

Y/n hesitates, cautious but unable to fight against it. Your hands seek and grip his shoulders. A force so soft, so kind, so you. Lo’ak exhaled.

“Your feelings for me?” Y/n croaked, sheer shock displayed on her features.

He could only laugh and shake his head in utter disbelief, his braids almost covering the eyes you worshipped upon. Oh my God, you truly are that clueless.

Lo’ak looked at your hands that splayed on his shoulders, before tilting back up to peer down at you.

“My feelings for you… they are all-consuming. You surround me, like the tides of this very ocean,” He points out to the vast sea to the side of you two.

He continues, “and it hurts. I am in pain because I feel like I am drowning in it. And you aren’t there. I dream of you, I think of you, I act like! Like my brother for you. You do not witness my loss of breath, my all that I give! For, you.”

He specifically targeted the fullness of his passion and annunciated in the last two words, hoping his point had finally gotten across to you. His face paints an exasperated expression, wounding you deeply.

Your brain is as much of a mess as the fishing nets you and Kiri had tried to untangle this morning. The clarity that leaches onto you feels all too antagonizing. Y’n tries to reason, but he shakes his head again. Putting his hand over yours that still weighs on his shoulder.

As if the entire weight of an Ikran pressed into him. It was daunting and petrifying.

Treacherous at the seams.

He gulps and lets the gates flood. “I know you are not dumb, far from it. Your mind is so fucking bright, that even I still get surprised by how you handle even the most mundane things. Even up to now, even if I’ve observed you hurdle through your daily activities constantly.”

Y/n whispers his name again, lips pulled to a frown and Lo’ak wants the sand beneath him to swallow him whole. But he must know.

“I fear you are clueless though. Do you not see or feel how I do?” He voices his prior thoughts.

The nail to the coffin.

He had never sounded so desperate before. Lo’ak had always been a spitfire of sorts, and sure he had his moments. Although this time he was pleading, yearning, and aching.

Somehow like a miracle, it was directed your way only.

You twist your head, gulping to try to muster up a source of confidence and understanding to power past this.

This is Lo’ak, the boy who barely left your side since finding each other. Your Lo’ak who you knew so well. Always there for him through thick and thin. The youngest son who looked up to his brother so fiercely, with a dad he could never seem to understand.

She looks up at him, properly and with conviction. “I do see, I do feel. I do, all for you,” Y/n begs to be heard, and his irises are blown.

He too never heard you so desperate.

Y/n embraces all that Lo’ak is, just like the very first time she laid her azure eyes on his.

“I guess, I am just incapable of seeing the signs. I do not have any experience in this…area of things.” You shyly whisper at the end, cheeks flaming at what you hinted at.

Lo’aks eyebrows furrow. He’s trying to obtain some understanding as his thumb grazes the apple of your cheek before cupping the side of your face.

You see him. You really do.

“I am usually only sought out for my intelligence, not of anything else. Lo’ak, no one has ever seen me in the light you seem to.” Her eyes look wistful as if she’s been transferred back to past events.

For good measure, you add on, grumbling. “My parents aren’t excellent examples to learn from either.”

Lo’ak croons, “I’m sorry.”

You grin up at him, and this time something shined. Lo’ak did not know if it was his heart or the slight difference in your expression, but there was something new mingling in the air.

His thoughts become fried as you tilt your head further up, balancing on the tip of your toes. Lo’aks hand almost slips from its grasp on your face. However, now you’re really close. Lips hovering over his as you coo, “Please accept this apology for making you so infuriated.”

Not only did you whisk his thoughts away, but his very breath too. You kiss him, this time being the first one to take action. It almost ceases the boy's heart altogether, you took this leap for him. For the future of you both.

As you retract from him, a pleading whine fell from the boy in front of you as he raced to chase your lips.

Y/n giggles at his actions, admiring the boy in front of her.

By Eywa, you were indeed a clueless fool.

The eyes who looked into yours now were so unlatched, expressing everything else he couldn’t say in words. That was the same gaze he gave you the very first time you’d see each other at the start of the day, and all throughout until the end. Awaiting to repeat itself the following day.

“I’ll only accept your apology after you let me have a few more kisses.” He interrupts your intrusive thoughts, and you could only laugh bashfully as you sink back into the entirety of him.

“Alright, Lo’ak. Whatever you say goes, it seems.” You mutter against his lips, and as you’re brought into a second kiss. His hand settles at the back of your head, guiding you.

Y/n can’t help but think, she wouldn’t mind learning about the ways of love with him. Whether that was through actions or words. Even a simple passing look.

Just like he listened and learned your ways of the Metkayina clan. You’d do the same because now you see. Now you can finally observe what makes Lo’ak so incredible.

It’s how he bestowed love so boundlessly.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

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#junie's library 📚✧.*#lo'ak sully x reader #atwow #lo'ak x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak fic #lo'ak sully #lo'ak fluff #lo'ak imagine #avatar: the way of water #avatar #⇢ ˗ˏˋ junie just got mail ! ✩ ࿐ྂ #𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 beloveds 🫂💌!!

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