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zadien · 1 year

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Safety in Numbers - TyHil Uncharted AU Pt 2

Despite the glorious heat of the sun, and standing in a beautiful city surrounded by stunning and rich architecture, Hilary was not enjoying herself. In fact, honestly, she was having a very bad day. One, this section of the city was crumbling into ruins around her—thick plumes of noxious, black smoke curling to the hard, blue sky, and the heat had a sweaty fist around her throat. Two, she was in the company of one of the most irritating men she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Tyson Kinomiya.

Self-proclaimed reclaimer of artefacts; a glorified treasure hunter; with a dash of charm, a streak of intelligence, and an appealing smile, and who couldn’t be trusted as far as she could throw him.

Tyson was the last person she expected to run into on the blood-soaked, war-ravaged streets when she'd set off to uncover this story. A rocky cove or an underground cavern, sure, but not a war zone. Still, she mused, watching him shimmy up a building with the agility of a monkey, she should have known civil war would pull out looters.

Her stomach dropped as he pushed off the wall and reached for a small crevice in the wall, latching on with his fingertips and clinging there for a heart-wrenching moment before he climbed higher. She turned with a huff, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her corduroy pants, and studied the devastation.

She knew Balkov was here in the city, knew he’d donated funds to the state army to help them win the civil war. What she hadn’t expected was just how many of his own mercs he’d transferred in. So, what should have been an on-the-ground investigative piece on the burgeoning war had turned into a conflict zone report where she and her cameraman were running for their lives.

And then she’d found Tyson.

Her day had simply gone from bad to worse in a few quick seconds, amplified by a charming grin and friendly brown eyes. She refused to fall for that facade again, she decided, following his progress as he vaulted onto the rooftop. He paused, and as if feeling her gaze, he turned and sent them a jaunty salute.

“Idiot,” she sighed.

She turned to Kenny. “Have you captured this, all the damage? I’m not letting Balkov spin this, so he comes out the hero. These are people’s homes he’s destroyed, their livelihoods. All gone. All so Balkov can throw his money around and win some clout.”

Kenny angled his camera to take in the exposed interior of a three-storey building; rubble and debris covered the road in front of it, dotted with broken crockery and shattered chunks of wooden furniture. Did these people have time to run? To escape? To save some of their valuables and memories?

“Do you think Balkov will donate some of his funds to fix all of this?”

She made a sound of derision. “Doubt it. Men like him only want to see the world burn. They rarely want to fix it.”

“Come on, it’s clear,” Tyson called, as he dropped onto the street in front of them, dusting off his hands.

Hilary stifled a sigh, and Kenny lowered his camera, looking between them. “Are you sure you want to keep following him?”

No. Yes. “Safety in numbers.”

Plus, Tyson had a gun and knew how to use it; in the same way, Kenny had a camera and knew how to use that. If she was to have any hope of keeping them both safe, she’d need Tyson’s skills, so she’d continue using him for the moment. Once they were safe, they could happily go their separate ways. Her to uncover the truth about this devastation and him to find whatever treasure had ensnared him with its sirens’ call.

They headed down a narrow street, sticking close to the walls and stepping over craters and crevices in the ground. When they turned a corner and spied water gushing from an exposed pipe, flooding the street, Hilary stifled a sigh, rubbing her arms. Tyson exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck as he scanned the rooftops.

"We need to find another route," he muttered, sitting down on a windowsill and pulling out his map.

Hilary sidled over to him to peek over his shoulder, quickly picking out their location. "What about through there?"

"Too open, we'll want somewhere with more cover."

More cover, she repeated silently, because there could be snipers. She rubbed her arms a little harder.

“Why are you even here, Hilary?” Tyson finally asked, closing his map and slipping it into his pocket as he stood up.

She ignored the way his tan henley clung to his arms and shoulders, and the way his forearms tightened and flexed as he reloaded his gun. Now was not the time to let that weird little flame of attraction rekindle. Tyson was not someone she could trust.

But she could be civil.

She brushed down her blouse and squared her shoulders. “I told you. I’m doing my job.” At his exasperated ‘I’m listening’ look, she added, “I’m going to write an exposé. I got word that a fugitive war criminal was hiding out here and…”

Tyson’s brows furrowed. “And you were going to what? Capture him? There are people who are paid to do that Hilary.”

“Not when they think he’s dead,” she pointed out, an edge to her voice that she couldn’t quite conceal.

She’d heard the same rebuttal from her editor, so she’d taken some well overdue PTO and come here; bribing Kenny with her own funds and his sense of chivalry—but the story; oh, the story would be so worth it. She had become a reporter to always show the true story, and this, all of it, was a tale worthy of being told. Who else would stand up for these people? Not Tyson, that’s for sure. He would only be here if there was some fabled treasure to be found. Was Balkov here for the same reason? Funnelling money into the civil war as a distraction? Could they be using the bombings to blow up temples and museums for loot? It wouldn’t surprise her what people used war to achieve.

“Well, you’re right about that.”

Her journalistic sense of curiosity flared, and she inched closer to him, looking him in the eye to gauge his sincerity. “How are you involved in all this?”

“Uh, well… heh—”

“There you are, Tyson! Let’s go.”

Hilary stepped back and stared at the woman striding towards them wearing a pair of stonewashed, skinny jeans, a red t-shirt, a holster strapped over her shoulders and brown, well worn, ankle boots. Her skin was a deep brown and her hair a striking aquamarine that she’d tamed into two plaits. Her brown eyes narrowed at the sight of them and her hand went to her gun.

“Nope,” Tyson said, stepping between them. “We don’t shoot civilians, Ming-Ming. Besides, they’re journalists. This is Hilary and her cameraman, Kenny. Play nice.”

“Hello.” Ming-Ming’s mouth twitch in a facsimile of a smile before turning with all seriousness to Tyson. “Okay, but seriously, let’s go. Balkov’s on the move.”

Hilary’s instincts flared, and she planted a hand on her hip, tucking her brown hair behind her ear. “How are you involved with Balkov? What are you two looking for? It’s not like a war criminal and a treasure hunter operate in the same spheres.”

Tyson flinched. “I’m not a treasure hunter. I reclaim artefacts.”

“Uh-huh. So is Balkov an artefact or is he here hunting something he shouldn’t be while brutally murdering innocents in this farce of a civil war?”

Ming-Ming rolled her eyes. “Okay, Lois, why don’t you go and hunt up your story? And we will go and do what we have to do.” She hooked her arm through Tyson’s and heat burned in Hilary’s gut. “Let’s go, Ty. He’s already flown in Garland. We need to move.”

There was a vicious sense of pleasure when Ming-Ming tugged him but Tyson didn’t move. Instead, his head turned towards Hilary, brown eyes catching hers; she kept her expression neutral.

Something flickered over his face and he shook his head, pulling his arm out from Ming-Ming. “No. No, I’m not leaving them here.”

“They’ll be fine. Right, Hilary?”

Hilary swallowed her instant denial and mustered up a comforting smile. “Of course. We’ll be fine. We got here without your help and we have a job to do ourselves.”

She turned to Kenny and motioned for him to follow her, though her heart lodged in her throat at the idea of splitting up and creeping around a city filled with an army of trained mercenaries.

“See, she’s fine. Let’s go.”

There was something about Ming-Ming’s tone, edging towards desperation, that had Hilary looking over her shoulder just in time to see Tyson dig his heels in, eyes locked on her retreating form. Hilary felt a stupid little flip in her stomach. Silly, she scolded herself. They weren’t even friends. He’d used her to get funding for a treasure hunting trip, flirted and charmed her, and then he’d abandoned her—granted, he’d called the coast guards to come get her, but still, he'd left. He’d done it before, he could easily do it again.

Ming-Ming fisted her hands by her hips. “Tyson! Are you serious right now? We have to go.”

“They’re coming with us.” He offered a rueful grin at the narrowing of Ming-Ming’s eyes. “Safety in numbers.”

#tyhil #beyblade fanfiction #tyhil love countdown #posting here in case I never get around to finishing the rest of this #but I do love the idea of artefact-hunting Tyson and intrepid journalist Hilary teaming up #beyblade

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lindwurmkai · 8 months

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i just logged in to goodreads because i wanted to know how many books i had read of two particular series and while i was there i changed my ratings of all hp books to two stars lol. could have gone with a single star but in the end, "it was ok" struck me as an extremely funny thing to say about those and i didn't want to completely erase my past with them. sorry if that showed up on anyone's feed idk how goodreads works anymore

however

i am now having a minor crisis because WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'VE READ MULTIPLE DOCTOROW BOOKS. what do you mean i've read sabriel. what is OSI and why have i apparently read three books in that series

#help meeeee #gandalf png #i'll have to do some more clean-up soon because i want to migrate to bookwyrm once i've finished my current book #i'll take that opportunity to remove all the ''currently reading'' artefacts that i can't finish because i don't have access to them anymor #like idk i think i started reading 1986 in a hospital once but then i had to leave before i could finish it so it's just stuck there #i hope the import into bookwyrm will go ok #weirdo chronicles

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copper-skulls · 1 year

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something a bit different but what still makes me happy - i just finished this queer chevron tag I'm gonna have hanging off my backpack now :) The button was a gift from a friend after I busted my previous rainbow pin, so it's a little bit special, ahah

#rainbow items received from other queer folk are Artefacts Of Great Power #cross stitch #this was in the making in some sort for like . a month and a half. fhajkdh #i didn't expect to finish it today while there were still last bits of daylight left so. you actually get photos of it today!!#DYI PRIDE STUFFS. but like nobody knows this flag so I'm stealth lmao.yeehaw #cat button by Dragarta!#too hot to work on digital things bcs I'm trying to keep my laptop semi-working. so cross-stiched insttead

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xolaanii · 2 months

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just found out the archeology database will count the distance between monuments for me and i have hit inner peace for once in 3 weeks i think

#vall txt #it will not last long #i still have to do a few vectors and i have to go to the museum to check one artefact and finish a drawing #but then i should be done #like actually fully done

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ifigaveuponbeingpretty · 7 months

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feeling extremely *mitski’s scream in drunk walk home* today :)

(a man took credit for my research again)

#vent post #personal #it’s the same guy and it happens all the fucking time #we’re digging through historical archives with artefacts that have only recently resurfaced and I’ll try to help him and shit #and he goes ‘oh I uncovered/found/discovered/translated/transcribed this. by myself’#when it was me doing the research from start to finish and I just told him about it because I thought it was supposed to be collaborative #am I lucky to be in academia? yes #do I hate being a woman in academia?? FUCK YES #also women of colour have it far worse when it comes to this and it SUCKS I hate it #academia #mitski #drunk walk home #female rage #feminine rage

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Hiiii, I loveeeee ur work ❤️

I was thinking about a head cannon of how some of the mw2 characters (ghost, soap, König, etc) would react to their partner sending them a nude photo?👀👀👀

Sorry if you did this already but I’m pretty sure you haven’t tho cuz I definitely would have read it already 😭

MW2 Reaction to Receiving a Special™ Photo from Their S/O

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Non-Specific/Explicit Implications of Smut, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You', Singular Mention of Graves Throwing Himself off a Cliff, Dominant! MW2, Submissive! MW2, Dominant! Reader, Submissive! Reader, Profanity, etc.

Ghost

He will literally stare bug-eyed at the picture you’ve sent him like 👁️O👁️

Since it’s a physical photograph, he keeps it on him like a chapstick, which is to say all the time.

He isn’t risking ANYONE besides himself seeing it.

And when he’s about to embark on a mission, he keeps it tucked into his vest right where his heart is so that it’s practically part of him.

He likes to think that, somehow, you can hear – feel – his heart beating, know that he’s still alive and fighting so that he can come home and see you.

And when he returns from a mission and goes to his quarters, he has some…alone time.

You know, to really study the picture.

Not that he doesn’t know every curve and edge of your body already.

But that doesn't stop him growling your name into the pillow as he rocks against it, a hole cut into the bottom of it – a poor imitation of you.

A makeshift lover.

If anyone ends up seeing that picture – if they stole it from him, if by some act of God (because that’s what it’ll take) it slipped out of his vest or pocket – they are in for a World of Pain™.

There won’t be a time they won’t flinch upon hearing Ghost’s name, or when they see his shadow like an omen on the wall as he commandeers the halls. Prowling.

He’d feel pretty guilty about someone else seeing you how he does, even if it was only for a fraction of a second.

So he’s definitely going to make it up to you when he gets back <3

König

His heart can’t take this kind of torment.

He’ll be looking down at his phone, the image of you burning into his skin like a holy artefact.

He definitely gets more jumpy around people when he has his phone on him.

Will literally clam up and shove it into the deepest recesses of his pocket if someone comes too close.

Even when your picture is safely stored behind a password-protected photo album.

He has to excuse himself from training or other commitments whenever his mind wanders back to you, and subsequently that image (which is basically all the time).

Sometimes he calls you while he’s sorting himself out.

He just needs to hear your voice – to feel closer to you.

It’s the only way he can finish.

“Engel,” he rasps, his breath stuttering, “I need you,”

And everyone just looks at him like he’s grown a third eye when he returns because, unbeknownst to him, König can’t keep quiet, and everyone who has never heard even a peep from him is suddenly aware of the carnality that lies beneath his skin, wired into his soul.

And at the centre is his love for you, boundless and overflowing so that the rest of his teammates know it, too.

Not that they mind all too much.

They all sit and think that you must be one beautiful person to evoke such a response from König.

Soap

Will tease you back.

Sends a mirror pic of him in a tight black shirt, saying something like ‘You’ll see the rest when I get home.’

Is absolutely ravenous when it comes to you.

No cap, goes absolutely ham in the shower when the image of you in nothing flashes in his mind.

His low moans are enough of a warning for the rest of the 141 to stay away for the next half an hour or so.

Aside from that, he’ll just look at the picture because he finds you beautiful.

Stares at it while he’s in bed. Laments on how much he misses you ☹️.

He’s counting down the days until he can see you again, and with each that passes, he can feel your silhouette becoming tangible in his hands, as if you were stepping out of the photo.

Sometimes, he dreams that you’re there with him, nestled between his arms.

Other times the dreams are a little more…graphic.

But Johnny can’t help it.

He just can’t contain himself when it comes to you.

Valeria

If you thought her violent tendencies could never extend to you, prepare to be amazed.

The second this woman sees what you’re trying to do – or, rather, what she thinks you’re trying to do – she is not happy.

You could have sent that image with the purest (within reason) of intentions; just letting Valeria know that you miss her, wishing her a good day – whatever.

What she sees is you trying to manipulate her by using your body as an instrument of destruction.

Dramatic, yes. But Valeria has never been one to take chances.

She’ll be deceptively calm over text: ‘Don’t tease me, Darling. You know what happens when you do.’

All day, all she can see is that image.

Whenever she turns a corner, you’re there; whenever she’s talking to someone, you’re peering at her over their shoulder; when she’s alone, you’re sat with her – on her – trying to take her attention away from her paperwork.

Redemption is a baseless concept when Valeria returns home that evening.

You will not know rest until she’s done with you.

Price

“Fuckin’ Hell, Love,” he’ll say, the darkness hanging on his voice tangible even through the voice note.

“What’ve you been up to while I’ve been away, hmm ?”

Will not rest until he knows he’s got you hot and bothered.

This entails him sending increasingly risqué images of himself; first, just one of him flexing, his arms thick and crawling with veins.

The next is of his shirt raised just below his chest, the dim light of the room keeping enough of him shrouded that his identity is unknown to all but you, his wide silhouette taking up most of the picture.

And, if you decide to be resilient against his attempts to make you feel as you have him, you’ll receive a series of menacing messages.

‘Don’t get too comfortable, Angel’, he’ll say.

‘You never know when I’ll come through that door–’

He grins as he sees you’ve read his message, hanging on his every word.

‘And ravage you.’

And you know he means it, too.

Meanwhile, he’s multitasking; keeping a clear, professional head and giving orders while resisting the primal urge to drop everything and find you.

And no amount of pleading or tears will spare you from his wrath when he returns.

Horangi

Regardless of how well the military life trained his self-discipline, nothing can dampen the sheer need Horangi feels whenever he receives a special picture from you.

I’m talking: he will literally sit in silence for ten minutes because he’s got a raging issue he needs to take care of but can’t risk anyone else seeing it.

Will thunder down the hall to the nearest bathroom when the meeting’s over and take out his frustrations there.

When he calls, you’d better pick up the first time.

If you don’t, you’ll have Hell to pay when gets home.

“Baby,” he breathes down the phone, the fog already making his mind frost over, his body burning up.

“What have you done to me–”

These brief encounters are the only thing keeping him sane while he’s away; they make him feel closer to you.

And, repaying you in kind, he returns one night, in the silence of the moon hours.

He finds you, pulls you to him, clutching on tight as you begin to wake.

And, between delirium and consciousness, his voice is all you can hear.

“Shouldn’t have tested me, Sweetheart,” he says, whispering as though partaking in a secret.

“Now I’m going to have to challenge you.” His arms are snakes as they constrict you.

“Fall asleep before I’m done with you, and I promise there will be no end to your suffering.”

Alejandro

Teasing a man as passionate as Alejandro is not going to end well for everyone involved.

Expect to receive a barrage of very choice texts back.

‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me’, he’ll say, followed by a photo of the tent in his trousers.

And a sinister: ‘But you will’.

If he’s away on business for even just a few days, he’ll go practically feral whenever he sees that picture of you.

To everyone else, he’ll be the leader Alejandro Vargas they all know him as – ruthless and righteous.

Yet, there’s something different in the way he walks as he excuses himself from the table, his destination unknown.

His gaze is narrowed and his teeth are grinding, rabid in disposition.

And when he gets home, no matter how long of a day it’s been, you’re in for a very long night.

He’ll appear behind you, a spectre, clamping a hand down on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t test a soldier, Love,” he says, his grip tightening.

You don't turn around, an exhilarating fear keeping you frozen.

He leans down, his mouth just at your ear, his breath hot.

“Because you never know when he’ll snap.”

Rodolfo

This man is usually rather quiet and submissive when it comes to the more personal aspects of your life together.

But when you send him a picture that makes him question how long he can keep his composure for, you’re in trouble.

You’ll be receiving a phone call from a very exasperated Rodolfo, who, despite his best efforts, has succumbed to your charm.

Definitely a growler when he’s in a dominant mood.

More of a whimperer when he’s not.

At times like these, you get both.

“Darling,” he breathes, the back of his head pressed against the cold cubicle wall. “Look what you’ve done to me…”

His whining is more than enough to let you know the effect you’ve had on him.

And it’s what he says next that makes your blood run cold.

“I won’t let you get away with this.”

The husking baritone in his voice tells you he’s being truthful.

And if you try to clap back with something witty, or even an apology, Rodolfo just laughs.

“The time for mercy is long past, mi Amor,” he tells you.

“All you can do now is prepare for the Reckoning.”

Graves

This smug idiot.

Definitely smirks to himself when he gets that picture.

Has to resist the urge to show it off to everyone in the boardroom because he’s just that proud to have you as his partner.

Yes, he is hard. Yes, he’s still going to give this presentation in front of all the major shareholders.

Why ?

Because he’s Graves. Also, because he knows he has more money than everyone else in that room, and, consequently, more power.

Will shoot you back a text like: ‘Mighty fine work, Babydoll’, followed by, ‘You’re getting a promotion when I get home.’

Yes, he uses corporate jargon when discussing intimate matters.

He’s a businessman at heart, he can’t help it.

Definitely more playful than most of the others on this list.

The type to take his time with you and make you laugh while he does so.

But when he wants to be rough (and when you want him to be), he can be.

And he gets mean when he’s like that.

I’m talking hair-pulling, name-calling – basically just bullying you, but consensually.

Does his best to take care of you, though.

If he found out that he’d actually upset you, he’d literally jump off a cliff – he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Expect many lavish gifts if this happens, though.

But don’t tell him that I told you that 👀.

Gaz

Will nearly drop his phone – it turns to butter in his hands.

He looks over his shoulder at least fifty times before he’ll allow himself to look at the photo again.

Poor boy’s face is turning red, his palms are sweating, he can’t think straight.

Paranoid 24/7 that everyone knows he has that picture of you.

But it doesn’t intimidate him enough for him to even try to keep quiet in the barracks when he has some alone time.

Similar situation to Soap; everyone knows to steer clear of whichever room Gaz was last spotted walking into for a while.

It would take him a few days for him to send a picture back.

More than likely, it’ll be of him in a scarcely lit bathroom in nothing but his boxers with a very prominent outline in them.

Followed by a text with something to the effect of: ‘Been thinking about you all night, Sweets’

And God forbid you send him another image of yourself. And definitely do not send a message saying ‘Aww, has my good boy been behaving himself ?’

Will literally send him over the edge.

The rest of the 141 can’t commandeer the bathroom for the rest of the day after that.

And when Gaz gets home, just know that your phone screen can’t protect you anymore.

Not when you have a man made of pure intellect and solid mass running full-force at you with all the pent-up energy seen only in a nuclear reactor.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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munariplans · 5 months

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cold | natasha romanoff

synopsis: AU to the spidey!reader and natasha series, wherein a bad argument leads to unsaid misunderstandings and forever guilt between natasha and her love, just before christmas.

natasha romanoff x spidey! reader

word count: 2.2k words

warnings: major character death

a/n: i have to emphasise that this is an AU for these two once more, or i fear i may not make it out alive for christmas from your wraths as well...

masterlist

cold had been the one word you would describe the look in her eyes, as she told you to get out. to get out, if it made you happier going out on that stupid mission than spending time at home with your family. that stupid mission that no one could deny was not only dangerous, but life-threatening. but you were confident in your abilities. you knew that if anyone could survive it, you could. you also knew that bringing the stolen artefact home could add a nice year-end bonus that would chip in heavily to the new play room that was being built for your son.

you didn’t mention any of that to natasha, of course. she was already enraged enough as it is, standing by the christmas tree the three of you had decorated together. your son was a greater help than you, she would say, as you carried him on your shoulders and allowed him to choose where he wanted to hang the ornaments beside natasha. you remembered those moments fondly.

“get out then,” she bit harshly, “get out on that stupid, godforsaken mission if you have to. i could care less about trying to convince you otherwise anymore. it seems that whatever i say these days doesn’t even matter.”

“nat, of course what you say matters.”

“you don’t love me enough to have it matter.”

“how can you–”

but she had put up a hand to stop you. it was enough. she had sighed deeply, and began walking back to the bedroom. it was late, and your son had a preschool play the next day. natasha needed to get up early to put his costume together for him.

you didn’t see a point fighting her. maybe you should have. maybe you should have gone up to her, wrapped your arms around her, and told her just how sorry you were. that you weren’t going on the mission anymore, because it would be going against her wishes, and you loved her too much to disrespect her like that. maybe things would’ve been different then.

what you did instead, was sigh irritatedly as well, and began packing up for the mission. getting dressed in your spider suit underneath plain clothing, you slipped your mask into one of the pockets on your jacket. the pendant with natasha’s photo inside of it hung snugly on your neck; your good luck charms.

natasha watched you enter the bedroom, equipping your web shooters and packing the last of your things. she didn’t say anything. when you were finished and shot one last longing glance to her, she clenched her jaw and looked away. she didn’t want to be the one to give in first. she wished she had. she wished she had just put her ego down, and hugged and kissed you goodbye. it would have alleviated so much of the regret, and sorrow, that she was feeling right now.

you nodded understandingly, swallowing a particularly difficult breath. coming a little closer, you noticed natasha not flinching when you moved. so you took the chance to kiss her on the cheek, and murmur i’ll be home soon in her ear. she gave a nonchalant grunt and drew the covers over her face.

but natasha still cared. she cared so much that it hurt; it was inane for her, just caring for you. and so when you left the bedroom and made your way across the hall to your son’s room, she followed.

she watched by the door as you woke him up gently, leaning down to smile at him as he sleepily reached out for your voice in the dark. you held his hand, calling him your little warrior, and then, you leaned down and whispered, just enough for natasha to barely make out, “take care of your mama for me while i’m gone, okay? just like we talked about, my warrior.”

his hands imitated your own when you shot your web shooters; the spider pose, he would say, as you chuckled. you kissed him gently on the forehead then, and tucked him back in.

“when will you be back?” he asked, eyes wide as he saw your mission supplies.

you smiled sadly at him. “just in time for christmas, i promise.”

“pinky promise?” he let out his pinky, you interlaced it with yours, nodding.

natasha disappeared back into the room before you could see her, her own eyes red and brimming with tears. she heard the click of the front door a few seconds later. she wished she had never allowed you to leave that night.

–

it had been a mistake; a miscalculation on your part, which led to a mistake with even graver consequences than you had realised. you had slipped in the wet snow running from the enemies, allowing them to catch up with you. just enough for a clear shot.

the first few seconds after the initial gunshot felt broken, silent in the freezing air of the night. your breath was still ragged, desperate to flee, and your reflexes had been working perfectly fine. then came the second, and the third, and you knew something had gone very, very wrong.

you let go of the artefact, and zipped away out of sight.

ending up at a rooftop just near the park, you could hear the confused shouts and demands for the enemies to find you. but you knew, that while you were not safe up there, you were hidden. stumbling as you landed, you scrambled to feel just where you had been shot, and why the bullets weren’t deflected from your near-bulletproof suit. you cursed when you felt that they had been designed to mimic the density of arrows instead.

“oh my god,” you hadn’t realised just how much blood was pouring out of you. you reached out for the wall beside you, but soon enough, standing proved to be too arduous of a task, as you crippled to your knees. your hands drawn back were doused in blood, and you finally felt just how piercing the wounds were, exposed to the cold.

you lay on your back. rolling over onto your back was all you could manage. the lightheadedness was coming quickly; you were so cold, everything hurt. you had tried pressing your hands against the wounds, but even more hot blood coated them while doing so. under the moonlight, the blood appeared thick and black, almost like molasses.

the crippling fear that you were going to bleed out before anyone could find you began to set in. and through your short, panicked, breaths, you felt something slip out of your pocket. the blood had made the grip in your suit slippery enough to allow your phone to slip.

there, the wallpaper of natasha and your son shone bright against the dark backdrop of the night. you shut your eyes, summoning the last of your strength to grip it and bring it closer to you. your fingers slipped as they pressed down on natasha’s number from muscle memory. your vision had gone blurry by the time you managed to press the phone against your ear.

the tone rang once, twice, then, “hello?”

her voice was always sweet like honey. the thought of bleeding out before you could hear that voice for another day would have filled you with the rage of dying, but you had no energy for it any longer. you were so very, very tired. and so very, very cold.

“hi, my love.”

natasha moved the phone to her other ear. you rarely called her during missions; you had always feared for her safety. there was the soft pitter patter of rain in the background of where you were. natasha didn’t know that in the rain, the water and blood was slowly filling up your lungs.

“what’s wrong?” you hated how she knew there was something amiss. her voice already carried an air of concern.

you cleared your throat. “nothing. i just needed to hear your voice…how have you been?”

“it’s only been a week, baby. nothing much has changed since you left.” natasha would regret uttering those words just a few minutes later.

you smiled. “t-that’s good. how was our boy’s play? d-did he outshine the others, like i said?”

“he did, he was easily the best one there,” natasha cooed, her other hand ruffling your son’s hair as he played with his toys while waiting for natasha to complete mission reports in the compound. “he misses you so much.”

“tell him–” the line crackled as the rain beat down harder on you, “–please tell him–that–that i miss him too.”

the troubled feeling in natasha’s gut only grew bigger. “i will. baby, is everything okay over there? is the mission…okay?”

you drew a ragged breath that natasha didn’t miss. “yeah, yeah of course. mission’s perfectly fine. like i said…i just wanted to hear your voice.”

there was a beat of silence, as natasha held her tongue and you hoped she wouldn’t detect the fading in your voice. it hurt to breathe by then.

“nat?”

“yes?” she responded immediately.

“i’m sorry, nat. for going on this mission. for going against your wishes. i’m sorry–” the line crackled, “–that i made you feel small, or your opinions unvalued. you know that…you know that your opinions always matter to me. and–”

you had drawn up a cough, wet and bloody. “–and i’m sorry for all the times i never made you feel as loved as i should have. i’m sorry for not loving you enough, as you told me. i regret everything about that argument we had, you know. i love you so much, i don’t think i could fathom…the idea of losing you.”

“it’s alright, baby, it’s really alright,” natasha had moved from her office to the main comms room, paging for an emergency meeting, “i forgive you. and i said some nasty things i didn’t mean too. i hope you forgive me as well, and we can move past it, together. i love you too, you know.”

“yeah, i do,” your eyelids were drooping, “thank you.”

natasha could hear the footsteps of the others by then. “baby, are you sure everything is alright? should i call for help? where are you?”

“no, no,” you begged, “please, i’m alright. just stay on the line with me, please.”

“i’m not hanging up.”

you let out another bloodied cough. this time, it was hard to deny that natasha couldn’t hear it, because it had launched you into an even worse state, your suit beginning to grow heavy on your bones from the water and blood. there was no hope by then.

“nat?”

“yes, sweetheart.”

“it’s just me and you here, right?” you looked up to the moon, wondering if it was the same one she was staring at right now.

natasha shut her eyes in pain, gripping the table before her. fury’s hand wrapped over hers, as the team gathered around her. they had already begun tracing your call, and the avengers were suiting up. “...just me and you.”

you were wincing between every word, “the drawer below where you keep your winter coats. our son’s christmas present…and yours. i–don’t think–i can make it home for christmas on time. will you help me break the news…to him? i’m sorry.”

natasha let the tears run freely then. they had found you. and she had seen just the state you were in. “baby, please. why are you–”

“–please?” natasha shook her head. this cannot be happening. “nat, please?”

“okay, okay,” she reluctantly agreed. whatever to keep you awake. “in exchange, can you…can you hold on for a little while longer? i’m coming, baby.”

you let out a soft exhale as you smiled. “i love you nat. i always have, and i always will.”

“i love you too. so please, can you–”

“–do me a favour, nat. don’t. don’t try. just please…please stop crying for me?”

she had wanted to scream. she had wanted to scream, to find you and shake you so hard that you would wake up and realise that you were killing her just by dying too, and that she had wanted to slap you so hard for even daring to ask her not to cry. but she also wanted to hold you, to hug you and kiss you, and have the opportunity of feeling your touch once more before she said goodbye. she didn’t want this to be the way it all ended.

she didn’t know how she was going to survive without you. her blood was running cold and she was pacing back and forth in anxiety. the team didn’t dare interfere with how she was dealing with the impending loss of her wife.

your voice was drifting further and further away. you were dying.

“i have to go now, nat. please forgive me. please forgive me. and please kiss our son goodnight before bed tonight for me. thank you for everything.”

the phone dropped, and natasha’s world stopped. her son would not only know that you weren’t coming home for christmas, but you weren’t coming home at all. and she would know that had she just convinced you a little better, loved you a little harder, you wouldn’t have gone on the mission. and she would still have you by her side for christmas.

cold had been the body they found right outside yours and natasha's shared apartment. cold had been natasha’s heart the moment she saw you again, the life in your eyes gone and the guilt in her heart needling itself into grief.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

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lesamis · 3 months

Text

1810s dashboard but it's niche drama

💛 heartofanna Following

imagine cancelling someone for saying war is bad

🧵 sharethewoe Follow

#didn't expect better from w*rdsworth but some people i rly thought i could count on…… #anyway we will live to see this empire fall. can't stop history lol (via @heartofanna)

speaking as someone who was press ganged at the age of 17 to serve in his majesty's royal navy i couldn't be more grateful for your poem. young men like me are cannon fodder and you spoke for so many of us. fuck napoleon but fuck parliament even more.

86 notes

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

stable forgiving virtuous flourishing in my lane definitely not buying poison moisturized unbothered never been better

chatterpwned-deactivated78345629743

me when i lie

179302 notes

🏛 mynoseisfine Follow

Settling this once and for all. What does the public actually think about the Parthenon marbles debate:

🦉 realminerva Follow

lol i know it’s you lord elgin

🦉 realminerva Follow

like we joke and all but fully aside from the fact that removing the sculptures from greek soil was vulturine and opportunistic etc, it’s really just the tip of a frankly gigantic mountain of imperialist bullshit. let’s not pretend we haven’t been brutally killing hundreds who resisted oppression in india, LITERALLY BOMBED A NEUTRAL EUROPEAN CAPITAL, and embarrassed ourselves in the charge against napoleon for years now. pathetic ass empire & evil as hell to boot. @mynoseisfine the greeks who carved your marbles millennia ago would kick your tory ass so hard

3661 notes

🎀 emmawoodhousestan Follow

how do i still keep seeing thomas chatterton's final post being reblogged, wtf is wrong with you freaks??? he was seventeen it was tragic and horrible and happened ages ago. he was a kid just let him rest

294 notes

🍎 masque-off Following

callout post for @castleyeah @lordsidmouth @officialcoe @parliamentofficial: they oppress, murder and famish the british working people & also suck majorly

⛪ castleyeah Follow

sour cuz you’re unfit to have custody of your own kids huh

🍎 masque-off Following

proud to be the dad of a newborn who could already rend your pudding spine asunder with a mere glance

187 notes

🦆 mallardturner Following

finished this today 😊

44 notes

😎 chadeharold Follow

why is it always “you’re risking your life and legacy & will get yourself killed before the age of five and twenty” and never how was swimming the hellespont the hellespont looked fun was it fun

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

ohhh my god you swam the hellespont five years ago?? wooow should we tell everyone?? should we throw a party?? should we invite famous hero of greek myth leander who swam the hellespont

😎 chadeharold Follow

@loved-joanna look we never had any beef & don’t have to start this now. it’s cool that you’re sticking up for my ex, you guys were friends first, but just know that i’ve always trusted your opinion on my work & genuinely respect and admire you & would still be up for a collab whenever.

🎭 loved-joanna Mutuals

yea sure why don’t your lips collab with my ass

😎 chadeharold Follow

on it boss

1009 notes

#literally call me. down if you are

🍂 endymion Follow

sorry is it me or is the assassin who stabbed german bootleg wordsworth kinda…… 🥵

💄 biprincesscharlotte Mutuals

JOHN KEATS????????

2427 notes

#i'm p sure this is the author of lamia thirstposting on main??? help

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

romanticism this romanticism that why don’t you romanticise universal suffrage and rights for labouring people

🌾 huntsmanx Follow

anyone else in jail for seditious libel

🏹 axelaidtotheroot Mutuals

lmao i'm one of the “anyone else”s and i know you’re enjoying family visits and apparently some kind of cushy armchair situation, plus tons of books. try being in here as a spencean dude they won’t even let me learn how to write. worst of all some evangelical came by yesterday just to proselytize & put me “on the right path” fml

8341 notes

🗻 mounttambora Follow

y'all i don't feel so good :/

59 notes

#if you use dark mode...........rip i guess #this was the most fun i've had writing anything in so long. also. if you see the timeline not check out no you don't #(wedderburn was only imprisoned in the 1820s i think & the lamia volume was also published in 1820)#(also up to you whether he's responding to henry or leigh hunt. it's the 1810s everyone's in jail esp if they're a hunt)#romanticism #and just to be sure.#long post

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coffeecubes · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬

✩ 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✩

⚡ 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙏𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 �� 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡. 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙨𝙝𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙢. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙. 𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙤.

⚡ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 ⚠️: 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙙𝙤𝙢/𝙨𝙪𝙗.

⚡ (Name) didn’t know much about her early life. All she remembered was fighting and before she knew it, her parents were slain in front of her. Her mind didn’t think straight as she was sold off constantly by greedy gods who could pay anything to get their hands upon her because of her ethereal beauty.

She didn’t have much hope in life despite being a deity, until one night where she was sold off again. This time, she arrived at a huge castle that was made of what looked like gold.

Here, she met her new master and his son.

Odin was much kinder and reserved while his son Thor, the God of Thunder, was a god of a few words. The Allfather assigned (Name) as Thor’s personal maid and the first time the two met, the god himself was taken aback by her appearance.

He had never seen anyone like her before, his eyes taking in this newfound female. Pretty soon, (Name) would make herself work under Thor.

(Name) would work endlessly to please her god, cleaning his bedroom, changing his sheets, wiping the floors, arranging his artefacts, and many other housekeeping things. She didn’t mind working as Thor’s maid, since it was a much better life compared to the ones with her previous masters. The other maids were also kind to her, and it was the first time (Name) called a place like Asgard home.

Thor and (Name) never talked despite being so close to each other. He didn’t like socialising and (Name) thought he wouldn’t be interested in talking to a lowly maid like herself, because of his high status.

Though as time flew by, she noticed that he would always glance at her whenever they were in the same room. When (Name) was busy doing her work, she could feel his piercing golden eyes from where he was standing. Everytime when she was alone, Thor would show up moments later to do his own thing.

Once in a while, (Name) would meet his eyes by accident and she would offer a small smile. Her own talking skills were pretty bad itself because of her hard past, so she wasn’t good at striking up small conversations.

Thor was extremely kind and patient with her. There were times when the head maid would inform (Name) that the lord wants her to rest. Her schedules would also change from time to time, where she would go to complete her task, only to find it finished. Maids would tell her that Thor ended up doing it in her place, making (Name) start to feel warm and giddy for the first time.

Even Huginn and Muninn would begin to notice Thor’s interest in this particular maid, and they would sneakily inform Odin about it. The Allfather didn’t care one bit, since he knew (Name) wasn’t dangerous.

Speaking of the two birds, they would quickly favour (Name) over the other maids because she would feed them little treats from time to time that she baked during her free time.

Thor would notice this and he would admire her from far away, thinking that a brute and daunting man like himself, didn’t fit in with someone like her. It was a forbidden love between a god and a maid, but it was so tempting and rebelling.

He would watch as she fed Huginn and Muninn with the treats that she made, along with other animals that roamed around the garden. (Name) was different as she never bothered him and respected his privacy, a contrast to the other maids that would admire him verbally -- too verbally, from afar.

He watched how beautiful and happy she looked, a contrast to her sad look the day she arrived here. There were times when he would hear her sing or watch her paint, and he noted that he very much preferred her smiling face.

Just seeing her, even if it was just a glimpse, was enough to make Thor’s heart ache.

But someone as gentle as her could never be with someone as rough as him.

Little did he know, she fell in love with him too.

(Name) didn’t know if he loved her back but she doubted it. He was the almighty and fearsome God of Thunder and she had a good feeling there were tons of goddesses and deities who were interested in marrying him.

Even some maids developed a crush on the silent god, diminishing (Name)’s chances even more. There was a time on “Lovers’ Day” - made by Aphrodite, where the divine can give each other chocolates and small gifts to express their gratitude.

(Name) ended up making her own chocolates and vowed to herself that she would give it to Thor. Only to watch from afar as multiple maids laid their own basket of goods in front of his bedroom door. Feeling casted out, (Name) didn’t give her chocolate, since she knew that Thor wouldn’t care anyway.

Unknowingly to her, the God of Thunder was looking through the pile of chocolates for her very box, but there was none.

This lonely and far love would continue until one unfortunate night, a night where Odin, Thor, and Loki were not home because of a meeting with the Greek gods.

Taking the chance that the Allfather, the God of Thunder, and the God of Mischief were not here, the Jötnar took this chance and invaded the vulnerable Asgard. Angels and the present warriors fought with all their might to fend them off, as the maids and residents of Odin’s castle ran for their lives.

(Name) tried her hardest to run and hide but she tripped over her own white dress, as the incoming giant hand came closer to grab her. Just seconds before her death, she thought about how much she regretted not telling Thor her true feelings.

She wanted a second chance.

And maybe she might get one.

As Forsetti came and grabbed her, the two ran off. (Name) was soon separated from the God of Justice during the catastrophe, the last sight of her body was her being forced out of the walls of Asgard.

When Odin heard about this news, they quickly came back but Thor had other things in mind. He dispatched the giants with little to no effort, killing every single one of them in one sweep.

His golden boots stormed towards (Name)’s room, his heart beating fast and his hope high, praying that she was alright and still alive. Bursting into her room, he was met with the sight of a messy and destroyed room, the once clean and shiny place that (Name) cared for, now a deserted mess.

(Name) was nowhere to be found and Thor looked for her everywhere in Asgard, trying to think of where she could be. It was only when Forsetti came and explained to him that (Name) was pushed out of the walls, was when Thor began to search outside of his home.

Only to gain nothing.

That girl with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes was nowhere to be found.

Thor looked and looked, trying to track her down but to no avail. Soon months passed and Odin told his son to forget about (Name) and that he should move on. There were plenty of maids and if Thor wanted someone that could work just as hard as (Name), Odin would find his son another one.

Thor was enraged with his father’s decision, as he didn’t understand why (Name) was so important to him. Thor continued to search but (Name) was never found.

Years passed and to this day…

Thor still hoped that she would come back home.

To him.

---

⚡ Six years had passed and after the events of the Jötnar’s invasion, (Name) found herself on earth, selling knitted clothing and paintings that she made to earn money for herself. She had escaped the invasion unwounded but she ended up in the human world, with no idea how to get back.

She never met any god or deity here that can help her. With no other choice, (Name) made herself at home here, finding a little abandoned cottage where she can stay for the rest of her life.

Time flew by and as (Name) made more paintings and clothing, she soon realised that more than five years had passed since she arrived here. Something that always stuck to her was there was always a strong thunderstorm on the day she arrived at Asgard and the day she left it.

A part of her thought if Thor missed her but it’s not possible.

There might be another maid that can be better than her, more beautiful than her, and she knew by now that Thor must be married to a wealthy and powerful goddess. The only thing she regretted was that she never told Thor her love for him.

Even if he was taken by someone else, she would continue to love him, even if he’ll never know it.

(Name) waved goodbye to a customer before she went inside to get something to eat. As she prepared food, she failed to notice the two birds perched on a tree branch. They soon flew away, eager to let someone who never gave up on her after all these years.

(Name) was busy tending her garden when she heard the sound of footsteps coming her way. She stood up and wiped her hands clean before she turned around to greet her customer, only for her eyes to widen.

There standing in front of her, was Thor, who stared back at her with his golden eyes.

“(Name)...” he said her name for the first time, “you’re alive… I’ve finally found you…”

(Name)’s eyes widened as she took in the god before her. He looked the same, handsome as always with his red hair dancing in the wind and his trusty hammer by his side. This was the first time he talked to her, and she felt a chill run down her spine from his voice.

Was he looking for her this whole time?

“Six years and you are still as beautiful as ever…” Thor told her, his feet stepping closer.

His hand reached out to (Name), waiting for her to grasp it.

“Come… I’ve come to take you home.” Thor said gently, as if scared that he’ll frighten her.

“Lord Thor…” (Name) whispered his name and his eyes softened.

She was still as she gripped her dress. He sensed her hesitation and he came closer until their bodies were just centimetres apart. (Name) looked up to see her god, his hand slowly raising to touch her until a voice stopped him.

The two turned to see a couple of mortal customers, blinking with confusion at the sight before them.

“Um… is the shop still open?”

---

⚡ Evening came and pretty soon, all the customers had left. (Name) had invited Thor into her home as she went over to assist the humans. After that, she cooked some food for the both of them, trying to ignore the fact that Thor was exploring her home she made for six years. When it came to dinner, the two ate in a comfortable silence, though Thor almost ate her whole kitchen clean because of his big appetite.

Now, (Name) washed the dishes while she felt Thor’s stare on her, awaiting her answer. As she was placing the dishes back into the cabinet, she froze when strong muscular arms went around her waist, as Thor placed his head in her neck.

“I’m sorry.”

(Name) blinked from his words as she glanced at the god.

“I’m sorry about the invasion.” Thor spoke into her skin, “I should have stayed there. I shouldn’t have listened to my father and went to the party. I should have stayed and protected you… because of me, I lost you all these years.”

“If you don’t want to come back-”

“Lord Thor!” (Name) gasped and he raised his head, “please, it’s not your fault that the Jötnar attacked. You shouldn’t place the blame on yourself because of the inevitable.”

His eyes softened at her words as (Name) stroked his cheek, her soft thumb caressing his golden markings.

“This is the first time we spoke together…” Thor hummed and (Name) nodded, “I like it. I like your voice.”

“I like your voice too.” (Name) smiled.

“I missed you.” he told her tenderly, and her eyes widened.

“I-I missed you too.” she whispered shyly.

He soon leaned in until their lips were just millimetres apart. (Name) felt her heart begin to beat as his golden eyes bored into her own (e/c) ones.

“I love you.”

With that, he kissed her deeply. (Name) closed her eyes and she kissed back, feeling Thor kiss her with every fibre of his being. His hands soon found her waist as he pulled her in closer, while her hands cupped his face and caressed his skin.

The desire and love for the six missed years soon came in as Thor broke apart. (Name) was out of breath before she gasped when he attacked her neck, bruising and kissing her thin skin. His hands that were on her waist took hold of her form and he picked her up, before throwing her onto the bed in her bedroom.

Thor removed his gloves and set his hammer in front of the closed bedroom door and closed the curtains, before he climbed over (Name) and resumed his marking. (Name) whimpered and moaned when his teeth bit down on her sweet spot, as the god began to mark her deeply as his own possession.

His hands wandered around her body, exploring and massaging her breasts that were covered by that damn dress. The heat in (Name)’s core was getting stronger as Thor kissed down her collarbone before he began to untie the back of her dress.

Soon enough, the cold air hit her skin and her nipples perked, making (Name) grow shy as Thor took all of her naked body in. Feeling self-conscious, (Name) covered up herself with her arms, but he took them away.

“Don’t hide yourself from me, (Name). You’re so beautiful…” he kissed her deeply, before he took off his own clothing.

(Name) watched how hard and ready he was for her as Thor’s hands found their way on her round breasts, playing and squeezing them tenderly. (Name)’s moans at this point was uncontrollable as she gasped when Thor began suck on her nipples with his mouth, while his other hand slowly rubbed her other breast in a circular motion.

Letting go of her nipple with a pop, he gave the other breast the same treatment, as the God of Thunder relished himself with her soft mounds, while the female was losing control of her cries.

Her hand went to her mouth as she feared her sounds would be heard by any travellers, but Thor leaned in, his patience with her getting very thin.

“Cover yourself up again and I won’t be afraid to bind your hands up.” he threatened, before his voice softened, “I want to hear all of you. Let the whole world know who’s going to fuck you.”

(Name) blushed from his words as Thor kissed her breasts down to her stomach, before he made his way towards her entrance, dripping with wetness. His large finger slid open her bottom lips, before he curiously pushed one in, making (Name) gasp.

“M-my lord…” she whimpered, as he began to pump the digit in and out.

“You smell good, (Name).” Thor grunted, adding another digit in to prepare her further for the height of the night.

(Name) whined and mewled, feeling his fingers move in and out of her, as they rubbed her walls mercilessly. One of his fingers touched her g-spot, making (Name) flinch, but Thor caught on. He then nudged his finger at that spot, staying there for a while, making (Name) moan messily with pleasure.

She felt her orgasm come when he began to scissor motion his fingers, but just when she was about to release, he pulled out.

(Name) looked at him with astonishment but Thor didn’t care, spreading her legs far and wide as he poked his hard member against her aching womanhood.

“Lord Thor-”

“Shush, my precious princess.” he shut her up, his own body wanting to take her right away.

He teasingly rubbed his head against her fold in a cruel manner, causing her body to shiver.

He was about to push himself in when (Name) took his arm and pleaded.

“Lord Thor, i-it’s my first time.” she told him, “please be gentle with me.”

“I will, my little beautiful dove.” Thor replied lovingly, “I’m happy to be your first time. It’s my first time too.”

(Name) smiled as he towered over her, before he pushed himself in. (Name) shut her eyes and held his beefy arms, feeling how thick and big he was. Thor held himself back from fucking her into oblivion, as he didn’t expect her to feel this good and to be this tight.

(Name) was trying to adjust to his size, her legs shuddering. Her breath went fast from this new feeling, the pain being present as Thor kissed her face and mumbled comforting words to her.

Soon, the pain went into pleasure and feeling her tighten even more around him, Thor gripped her waist and began to move gently into her. (Name) moaned and hugged his large frame, as he thrust gently in and out of her vagina, the head of his manhood digging further and further inside of her.

This slow pace was absolutely torturing Thor, as he was trying to contain himself. He didn’t want to hurt her as he gritted his teeth, trying to keep this slow rhythmic tempo of thrusts.

But it was almost impossible, seeing her beautiful face contorted and shifted into bliss and happiness, her lips babbling only his name.

Yes, only Thor will make her feel this way.

No other man will touch her.

Thor grunted and growled, feeling himself lose it amidst the pleasure, as he gradually picked up his pace. Pretty soon, the promised gentleness was all gone as Thor pounded into her like an animal gone wild. (Name) whimpered, feeling his hands on her breasts once more, squeezing them as he moved his hips into hers.

A wet sound was heard in the room along with skin slapping on skin, as the god took her like a ravaging beast. (Name) cried out each time he hit her g-spot, feeling his large and thick member rub deliciously against her walls, as the pit in her stomach began to grow bigger and bigger.

Thor caressed her thighs, loving the feeling of her soft skin, staring at the way her flesh curved in from his hands gripping her. He watched his member go in and out of her wet cunt, his pace now inhumane.

(Name)’s breasts bounced with each thrust as she gripped his gorgeous red hair, until she finally released. Her eyes saw stars as she slowly rode down on her orgasm, but Thor continued on his thrusting.

“My lord!” (Name) cried out, and Thor lost it even more when he heard her voice.

“Love…” he called her, on the verge of exploding into bliss.

Seeing her release also made Thor come, as he grunted and spilled all of his godly seed into her womb, filling her up. He rode out his high by thrusting gently until he pulled out, watching the liquid that was inside of (Name) drip out.

“So wet…” the female thought, feeling all the contents come out of her.

(Name) was gasping for breath until she blinked when she was turned over by Thor and was laying on her stomach. She gasped and turned her head to see Thor, caging her with his giant body from behind, as he prepared himself for another round.

“W-wait, my lord--” (Name) pleaded, “let me rest-”

“I’m not finished.” he quiet her down once more, “let your lord fuck you. It’s your punishment for leaving me alone for six long years.”

(Name) yelped with pleasure and surprise when he inserted himself into her once more. She was very sensitive now as he felt even bigger than before. (Name) laid on her stomach, with her hands beside her head, as Thor placed his larger ones over them, intertwining their fingers together.

He soon began his rough and dominating pace again, making (Name) moan shamelessly into her pillow. She had never felt this good before, and it felt even more special when it was the man she was in love with.

His golden eyes watched her butt bounce from each of his thrust, his giant hands placing themselves on her cheeks.

(Name) mewled when he began to massage her buttcheeks cruelly, before she yelped when he spanked it gently. He continued to spank her soft butt, feeling rewarded with each cute noise that escaped from (Name)’s lips. Thor watched her butt slowly turn red from each slap, before he moaned and picked up his pace.

“Fuck… you’re so beautiful, (Name).” Thor grumbled, while (Name) let out a pitiful mewl in response.

“So cute…” he leaned in and wrapped his arms across her body, bringing her to his chest, “and small… tight… fragile…”

He bit her cheek gently, gripping her face so he could kiss her on the lips.

“And all mine.” he smirked against her face.

His hands gripped her ass and he lifted it into the air, proceeding to ruthlessly bang and pound into her. Precum was dripping from their love making, as his hands mushed themselves into her ass and Thor reached deeper into her.

The sound of their skins slapping together made (Name) gasp, her body fidgeting around and her fingers gripping the bed sheet.

(Name) couldn’t take all this pleasure any longer and she released for her second time, making Thor wince from how tight she was once more.

He chased his own climax, his hips smashing (Name)’s own as his hands gripped her ass cheeks tighter and he let out a sigh, letting his seed flow into (Name)’s womb, claiming her a second time.

(Name) panted with exhaustion when Thor let go of her ass, her body tingling from the aftereffect of their love making.

She collapsed on the bed, trying to catch her breath, feeling Thor’s heavy body on top of her. His arms carried his weight from crushing (Name) as he rolled over to lay beside her. His arms reached out and he brought her into his chest, his lips kissing her face as the two soon settled in.

(Name) leaned against his chest, her sleepy eyes staring at the golden marks upon his shoulder. Her hands traced against his chest and muscles, while his hands were wrapped around her body, his own body emitting a comforting warmth against her.

(Name) was just about to doze off to sleep when she looked up, feeling Thor’s lips upon her forehead. His lips lingered against her forehead for a while, before he pulled away, his golden eyes pouring into hers.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

(Name) blushed from his words and she reached up to cup his cheek.

“I won’t.” she told him genuinely, kissing his lips, “I promise.”

He smiled for the first time and (Name) noted how pretty he was when he did. He brought her closer and pulled the blanket over both of them, their bodies exhausted from the night activity they did.

(Name) cuddled into his arms and just when she was about to sleep, Thor’s voice broke the silence once more.

“Marry me.”

(Name) felt a smile form on her lips and she looked up at her lover, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I will."

---

⚡ “Hey, where did Thor go? He’s been gone for a long time now.” Loki muttered, looking at his nails.

Odin didn’t reply, his one good eye staring at the pile of papers in his hand.

Meanwhile on his shoulders, Huginn and Muninn were cowering and putting their wings upon their ears, trying to get the sound of what they heard at the cottage out of their brains.

✩✩✩

Next: Hades or Qin Shi Huang

My yandere Record of Ragnarok story: Infatuation

Hope you like this smutty smut!

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv thor #ror thor #snv x reader #record of ragnarok smut #snv thor x reader #ror thor x reader #ror smut #snv smut #ror thor smut #ror x reader #snv loki #ror loki #thor

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the-dixon-effect · 10 months

Text

Lover, you should've come over

A/N: i had this idea a while ago just never got around to writing it. it's v fluffy, a little angsty and just the right amount of trauma, and the title from jeff buckley ofc. hope you enjoy lovelies :')

era: season 6, pre-Negan Alexandria

prompt: "Ya don't ever have to say sorry. Not to me."

summary: Y/N is feeling particularly affected by her past trauma sometime during the group's transition to the suburban atmosphere of Alexandria.

words: 1.5k

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

warnings: self-harm, anxiety, suggestive

9pm The garage; dark, gloomy, the perfect hiding spot.

The rest of the group was having dinner, courteously cooked by Carol, in the dining area of your shared house. Rick was right, it was going to take some considerable time before everyone properly adjusted to the strange atmosphere of the unaffected suburban paradise that was Alexandria. It seemed, however, that despite the incredible amount of time your people, your family, had spent surviving outside these walls, everybody was fitting in just fine.

The houses were strange, untouched, and the people even stranger. It was like this tiny pocket of the new world was a time capsule, a preserved artefact of an ancient time, all but forgotten to most. It felt like if you were to get too close, immerse yourself too much, the time would come when this place would come crashing down, and bring you down with it. Not only did this place feel like a fever dream about the old world, it also brought back certain memories from the past that you'd tried so desperately to leave behind.

So here you were, an empty seat at the dining room table. You pressed your back against the wall and hugged your legs to your chest. You wondered if they would even notice you weren't there.

Almost-silent sniffles were the only sounds that filled the dim room. The last of the daylight filtered through the tiny gap between the garage door and the ground. You rolled up the sleeves of your flannel shirt to reveal a checkerboard of familiar scratches and cuts, only half visible due to the distinct lack of light in the room. Your head rolled backwards, almost on its own, and hit the wall with a thud. Your eyes swelled with tears just as quick as the memories had come flooding back.

Maybe it wasn't this place. Or the people. Maybe it was just you. No point running now, you thought. You can escape from everything and everyone you love, but you'll never escape yourself, a part of you tried to tell yourself. No matter how far you run, your past, your scars, they will always remain.

9:30pm Despite Y/N's assumption that her absence at dinner would go unnoticed, she was wrong. A certain archer's eyes searched for yours but failed to meet them across the table. "Where's Y/N?" he asked, filling the silence. When all he received was a fleeting glance around the room from members of the group, he swiftly returned to his former position of silence.

"She's probably over at Aaron and Eric's. I heard they were having a couple people over for dinner tonight," said Michonne, a little dismissively.

Daryl shared your feelings about this strange community, and he too understood your lack of trust. Even before adjusting to the end of the world, he certainly would have felt uneasy in a place like this. People like him, like you, they're not supposed to be living in a place like this, pretending to forget about the world outside the walls. Paradise is no place for us, he thought.

Once dinner was finished and the chatter had died down, Daryl slipped off in an effort to find you, and he couldn't help but worry.

9:45pm After searching the whole damn neighbourhood and finding no one who knew where you were, he started to assume the worst. What if she left, ran away somehow? What if she went on a run and got hurt? No, no, he couldn't lose you, not when the both of you had just got here.

Suddenly he remembered the conversation he had with you last night, out on the porch. The stars were out, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you could look up and admire them in somewhat safety. And they were beautiful. And the two of you sat and talked and talked and just watched those stars. He loved to just listen to you, in truth, he wanted to hear all your stories. Even the bad ones, the regretful ones, perhaps he just needed to hear your voice. He thought back to something you'd said, and his mind suddenly went overdrive with worry. A particular memory you'd recalled, and said that you'd never told anybody this before, alluding to an especially bad habit you'd broken. Could that be... self-harm? He was pretty sure he'd seen those marks on your arm, or he saw something, at least, that wasn't caused by walkers.

He started to go over every single place in his mind where you might be hiding, doing more harm to yourself than good by not speaking up. Your bedroom, the attic, the basement, the yard, the garage. The one place the rest of the group wouldn't think to look for you, if they even came looking at all, you thought. Except for Daryl, who had been working in there on his bike all day.

You could even sense it now, the oil, the tools, and the summer heat, even in the nighttime. As you thought of him, the whole place started to feel like him. You weren't even sure if you liked it or not, the familiar fondness you'd developed for him, but despite your loveable manner, you were so determined to be alone. To not appear as some anxious little presence going about the place.

The door swung open and the first thing you noticed was the light that streamed in, illuminating your tear-stained face.

"Y/N! Y/N, are ya' in here?" You buried your face in your hands as you approached the archer, weakly.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?" he drawled. Daryl placed his torch down and stepped a little closer to you, not in a threatening, fearsome way, but in an intimate way, a way that felt like you could be safe with him.

"Can- Do you think you could shut the door?" you said, sniffling a little as you spoke. He followed your request and returned to where he stood before, deep blue eyes locked on your pitiful face.

10pm It felt like there was nothing to be said, no way to express your feelings in a way that somebody could understand. It would be just perfect if, in this moment, he was able to read your mind somehow. Hesitantly, you rolled up your sleeves as you had done before and looked straight up at him with those wide eyes. It was a sight to behold, that was for sure, and if he could put aside every ounce of sorrow he felt just looking at the scars, he was grateful to be the one who you came to.

"This place, it's like- it's like a well," you were struggling to speak. The tears were flowing now, and you felt embarrassed to have this much emotion on display. "Couple days after we got here, I just started to remember, you know. The stuff you don't wanna remember. Just feel trapped, you know," your voice seemed to trail away as your closed your eyes. Nothing to be done now, you supposed.

When you looked up at Daryl again, you were suddenly overcome by a rush of guilt. "Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Daryl..."

He pulled you into a tight hug at once and whispered into your soft hair that he held so gently. "No, no darlin'..." he spoke. "Ya' don't ever have to say sorry. Not to me." Perhaps if you were thinking straight you would've tried a little harder to appreciate the moment. His distinct scent, the notes of sweet cigarettes, pinewood and thunderstorms. Instead, you cried into his shoulder as his other hand rubbed gentle lines up and down your back.

You pulled away from the embrace, keeping your arms draped around his neck. He was captured by those pretty eyes of yours, though glassed over completely, and held the silent eye contact. He lifted his right hand and softly held your arm, tracing your goosebumps with his calloused fingertips. And you just stared up at him, looking for the reassurance in his eyes that you knew you would always find.

Sensing your pain, Daryl brought your forearm to his lips and pressed sweet kisses on those same self-inflicted scars. You gazed up at him and mustered the best smile you could, as a sign to continue. You slipped off your flannel shirt revealing the little white t-shirt that you wore underneath. Moving further up the length of your arm, he planted soft kisses on your shoulder, and then your neck. The intimacy brought more overstimulated tears to your straining eyes. The only thing you knew how to do in this moment was simply grip him tighter. "Never let me go," you whispered.

Perhaps you didn't need to be alone after all.

#brandy writes #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon fluff #twd angst #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader

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viennacherries · 2 months

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QUOTH THE RAVEN - CHAPTER 2

Rolan/Tav | NSFW | 5,482 words

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

As you pace back and forth in your room, your mind reels.

The group had been to Moonrise. They watched Ketheric Thorm take an axe to the throat like it was nothing more than a splinter, and then use it to split a goblin clean in half. The mental image terrifies you, but it's not the main thing occupying your thoughts.

The tiefling hostages are alive. Danis, Lakrissa; Lia and Cal.

You've not seen Rolan since he stormed off. You want to talk to him. You want to tell him that Cal and Lia are okay, want to promise him you'll save them even if it costs you your life.

You want to kiss him again.

It's ridiculous, in all honesty. You're pretty certain that he hates your guts, but it doesn't stop you pining for him. You realise somewhat reluctantly that you've been pining for him since you parted ways at the grove, and if anything that makes the knowledge of his eventual rejection sting more. Of course he doesn't feel the same way. How could he? He considers you the reason his siblings are lost to him.

You clench your jaw. You're going to get them back, one way or another. All three of them deserve the future that awaits them in Baldur's Gate.

As you finish donning your armour, you glance longingly at the bed in the centre of the room. Maybe at some point you'll finally get a full night's sleep.

Somehow, you doubt it.

You stare at the back of his head, sat at the bar once again, as you all get ready to leave. A rush of relief fills you to see him safe. A rush of joy fills you to see he's drinking water, not wine.

He doesn't look up, but that's fine.

The next time he sees you, his siblings will be safe. You'll make sure of it.

~~~

All of your friend's sordid descriptions of Moonrise pale in comparison to the real thing.

On the walk over, Astarion had likened it to "a foetid corpse that even I wouldn't sink my teeth into". While his analysis came the closest, even that didn't truly capture the depths of the building's nauseating atmosphere and stench. As you stand at the base of the structure, staring up at the impossible height of it, Karlach leans over to speak to you.

"We managed to convince them that we're true souls, but they want to meet you before they give us any more information."

You nod wordlessly. It's another show of your group's trust in you, that they mentioned you even when you weren't present. They've clearly sold you to the cultists as their leader. The thought makes your insides twist.

Gale cuts in, "Thorm wanted us to bring you straight to Z'rell - I believe she's his commander? I recommend you be on your guard. From the brief glimpse we got of her, she appears rather ruthless."

Karlach nods seriously, "complete mega-bitch."

Astarion lets out a giggle beside you, "goodness, darling, I couldn't have put it more eloquently myself."

You snort at that, and Karlach's face splits into a grin. The group looks at you expectantly.

You take a deep breath. "Right. If we're going to sell this you three are going to have to be quiet, if you need to tell me something do it through tadpole-mail." You punctuate your sentence with a brisk tap to your temple. The three of them nod, and Karlach mimes zipping her lips shut.

You continue. "I'll talk to Z'rell, find out what we need to know about the artefact that's keeping Ketheric immortal, and then we'll go round to the docks and enter into the prison from the back. We're here for information and the hostages, nothing else. Don't get greedy." You pause. "That was aimed at you, Astarion. Keep your pilfering hands to yourself."

He sighs dramatically, "oh, if I must."

~~~

Listening to Zrell speak is difficult when you're trying not to choke on the smell of decay and death. It seems to seep through the very brick of the tower, festering between the mortar and filling your pores. You're not sure how successfully you're keeping your disgust off your face, but if Z'rell notices your discomfort she doesn't comment on it.

"You came here to answer the Absolute's call." She says, and her voice is laced with mirth. "Let's see what you're made of."

All of a sudden she's communing with your tadpole, and you can feel her poking through your brain and the thoughts within it. Panic rises within you as you realise that she's trying to discern if you're truly faithful to the Absolute, and you know you have only a moment before she sees into the depths of your thoughts.

You latch onto the first thing you can think of.

As you shape the image of Rolan's face in your mind, you remind yourself of the anticipation in the moments before your lips met, and the rush of euphoria and excitement as you finally kissed him. You focus on the emotion in his eyes as he waited for your reaction, the blush on his cheeks, the shine on his lips. You can almost feel his hands tracing over your hips, slipping through your hair, and in your mind you're settling your weight back into his lap.

Then the thoughts drift further. Watching his magic display at the party, the sound of his laugh as you traipsed through the shadows, the way his brow furrows when he scowls. The sunshine yellow of his irises and the shiver that goes through you whenever his gaze falls onto you, the dusting of freckles along his cheeks, the smooth scarlet length of his neck and how beautiful it would look covered in hickeys.

When Z'rell retreats from your mind, she barks out a harsh series of laughs, and for a moment you're terrified. She's seen straight through you, she knows what you're here to do. Your hand slides to grip the handle of your blade where it rests on your back.

"A refugee from Elturel?" She can hardly get the words out around her laughter. "Gods, what a pathetic little creature. And a wizard, no less! Don't tell me you're actually in love with that sad excuse for a man." She leans forward and runs a hand down your arm, a coquettish grin on her face. "A pretty thing like you? I can think of far more worthy conquests."

You feel bile rise in your throat at her words, both her blatant advances and her mischaracterisation of Rolan, but you swallow it down. Instead, you let out a fake, flirty laugh, and shoot her a half-hearted wink.

This seems to satisfy her, and she launches into an explanation of the relic that Thorm needs - the one that you know grants his immortality - and directs you to the mausoleum.

When you're finally outside again, away from the stifling air of Z'rell's atmosphere, your companions say nothing. The weight of her words hangs over you.

'Love' she'd said. Is that what it is?

Do you love Rolan?

You're not completely sure you're ready to think about that.

~~~

The battle in the prison is more draining than you'd hoped. You're only still upright thanks to a well thrown healing potion from Astarion, which had landed at your feet and splashed up your calves.

The boat rocks on the water and the paddles propel you forward on their own accord, moved by Gale's magic rather than any physical effort. Karlach has the end of a bandage clamped between her teeth as she wraps a cut on her upper arm, and Astarion (despite his initial reluctance) is rationing out the remainders of your healing brews between the ex-hostages. A group of deep-gnomes had also been held captive below the tower, so the boat is cramped and your medical supplies aren't stretching as far as you'd hoped, but everyone is alive.

You can't quite believe it. You feel like you're not even in your body.

That may have something to do with the blood loss, in fairness. You'll worry about that later.

As the boat starts to pull into the dock, you hear a loud cheer from the coastline, and for a moment you don't even think about the horrors of Moonrise towers. You watch Cal and Lia scan the shore for Rolan, and lean over to them both.

"He's probably inside, waiting at the bar. That's where he was when we left."

Lia gives you a friendly smile, which morphs into something like amusement. "That sounds about right. He's not the type for heroic welcomes."

You nod and chuckle. There's a pause before she speaks again.

"Is he... He's okay, right?"

"He is." You pause. "I'm sure he'll be less than pleased that it was me that got you guys out, but he'll be thankful to see you. He's been worried."

Lia smirks, and there's a knowing edge to it that unsettles you somewhat. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to give you his thanks."

Cal snorts, before covering his mouth and nose with a hand and turning away, trying in vain to make his guffaw sound like a cough. You narrow your eyes at the pair of them in suspicion and Lia laughs. You're beginning to understand Rolan's perpetual exasperation with them both. They've been out of mortal danger for all of 5 minutes and they're already teasing him, and he's not even seen them yet.

Actually, scratch that. You realise as Lia looks at you that they're not teasing him, they're teasing you.

You try to think of something smart to say, but come up blank. Instead, you blush, and mutter sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"

Cal snickers, and Lia breaks into a wide grin. "It wouldn't be obvious if he was anyone else," she starts, "but you have to be daft or smitten to enjoy Rolan's company. You're definitely not daft."

Cal cuts in, "oh I don't know, she might be. She did just break us out of prison."

You laugh at that, "in my defence, that was a group effort."

Any reply they might have had is cut off by the boat shuddering as it connects with the shore.

Lia claps you on the shoulder, "for what it's worth, Tav, I think he's sweet on you." Before you can ask her to elaborate, she's clambering out of the skiff and tugging Cal out behind her.

That flutter of hope flickers back into your chest.

As you step from the boat, Bex grabs you in a tight embrace. She sobs into you and whispers repeated thanks and prayers. You don't catch most of them, you just hold her. When she breaks away your shoulder is damp, and she lunges at Danis as soon as he steps onto the shore. They fall to their knees in a heap as they clutch one another desperately.

You're showered in adulation from every direction; you lose count of how many hugs and handshakes you're given. There's a deep weariness settling through your bones that gives you only enough vigour to respond positively without considering your words. You're completely on autopilot.

You finally make it back through the doors of the inn, and you're more than ready to collapse in your bed. You feel like you could sleep for an age.

A loud, clipped admonishment shoots through the air, and you turn to face it.

It's Lia. She looks surprisingly pissed off for someone who was so pleased just ten minutes ago. You sigh inwardly and resign yourself to the fact that you should intervene.

"We're all safe, Rolan - that's what matters!" It’s Cal talking when you approach.

Rolan is opening his mouth to speak, and you're reasonably sure by the expression on his face that whatever he plans on saying isn't particularly polite. You cut him off before he has the chance.

"Rolan was in a bad state without you two."

His jaw snaps shut as his eyes dart to you, and he hesitates over his words.

"I was just... overwhelmed. It doesn't matter."

Lia's eyes soften, and she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. We should've been here."

"No -" Rolan is quick in his response this time. His tone is gentle. "- no, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have shouted. I'm sorry."

Cal turns to you, and there's a soft smile on his face.

"Thank you, Tav. For saving me, and the two idiots." He tilts his head in their direction as he says it.

Lia nods, then turns to Rolan, a teasing grin on her face. "Anything to add, Rolan?"

He scowls at her, but as he turns to look as you his expression smooths out, and a faint blush rises to his cheeks.

"I've... lashed out at you. Drunkenly and otherwise. And you helped me anyway." His voice is uncharacteristically apologetic. "You didn't deserve that - I'm sorry. And... thank you."

The look the two of you share is charged, and there's so much you want to say. You pause for too long though, and Rolan clears his throat.

"You went out of your way to help us, it's only right you get something in return." His tone is matter-of-fact as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pouch, and you can tell it's gold without looking inside. He takes your hand and turns your palm upwards, places the bag in your hand, and curls your fingers around it. His own hand stays wrapped around yours for a moment, and he glances up at you through his lashes, suddenly bashful.

His words are quiet, meant just for you. "Here. I hope it helps."

You try to refuse - try to say anything at all - but before you have the chance he's pushing the bag towards you and loosening his grip. You're left standing there, staring at him, the pouch clutched to your chest. His tail flicks behind him.

The silence lingers, and Lia clears her throat to break it. "Stay and have a drink with us Tav? The least we can do is pour you a decent pint."

It's tempting, but you shake your head, shaking yourself from your stupor simultaneously. "As lovely as that sounds, I'm completely exhausted. There's not enough blood left in my body right now for me to risk booze, I'll be more ale than ichor."

Rolan's face twists at that, "you're hurt?"

You can only shrug, though the movement feels sluggish. "Par for the course of this hero business, funnily enough. I don't think I've been anything but hurt since I fell out of that nautiloid."

He frowns, "surely your group has healers? Potions?"

"Well," you nod, then shrug again, "Shadowheart and Halsin are healers, but their magic is better spent on you lot. And we're fresh out of potions right now, I'm going to go on the scrounge for some in the morning." Rolan looks distinctly unimpressed, so you shoot him a smile that you hope is comforting. "It's fine, really. I have a bed waiting for me upstairs which has been calling for me since yesterday. I'll feel right as rain after a few hours of rest."

This doesn't seem to placate him, and he shakes his head before standing from his chair decisively. "Absolutely not. I know some basic healing spells and I keep a few spare potions in my pack. I'll tend you - I insist." The last past comes briskly as you open your mouth to protest, and you close it again. He can clearly tell you're brewing an argument, and intercedes before you can fully form it. "Just let me look after you. Please?"

His echo of your own words stirs something in your chest, which feels a bit like he's cheating to be honest, and you find you haven't got the energy nor inclination to argue.

"Fine, but only if I get to lay down. My head is pounding."

He nods, "fine by me, which room is yours? I'll come find you."

You tilt your head upwards, "first door at the top of the stairs, I'll leave it unlocked."

He nods again. "I'll be with you momentarily, then."

It's at that moment that you notice the absolute shit-eating grins that the twins are wearing, and you feel yourself flush. Cal winks at you, which sends Lia into hysterics, and Rolan turns on her sharply.

"What?!" His tail is raised and flicks sharply, in a movement you can tell denotes his irritation, but it just makes Lia laugh more. You turn away briskly before he can see the blush rising on your face and take the stairs two at a time. You hear Cal cackle and Rolan whisper-shouting his complaints at the pair of them as you shut the door and lean your back against it.

You let yourself catch your breath, then take three long strides forwards til you're right at the edge of the bed, and unceremoniously fall face first into the mattress.

~~~

You're roused to consciousness by a light series of knocks against the door, and you manage to wrench your eyes open just as Rolan walks in.

He smiles, "sorry to disturb."

"Not at all, come on in."

He steps further into the room and clicks the door shut behind him. You smile to yourself as a thought crosses your mind, and mutter it quietly.

"'The fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door.'"

He quirks an eyebrow with a smirk, "poetry, Tav? You better not be trying to seduce me."

You snort, "please, with 'The Raven'? Rather a grim method of seduction, don't you think? I'm sure I could think of something more suited, if you insist."

His face flushes. "That won't be necessary."

The laugh you let out is incredibly unattractive, but you don't have enough energy to care. You realise you're staring at him over your shoulder where you're planted face-down on the bed, so you roll onto your back and sit up to face him better.

"'And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming...'" You trail off and laugh again. "Yeah, no, it's definitely not the most charming of poems. I'll have to come up with something better."

He smiles, his light flush unmoving, "oh, I don't know, that bit was almost sweet, if you ignore the original context."

You smile wide at that, and Gods, this feels so easy with him. So comfortable. You'd been so sure he'd hate you, but sitting here now looking at him, you can't imagine why.

He clears his throat, and tilts his head towards the bed. "May I?" You nod, and he seats himself next to you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. Drained. A little lightheaded, if I'm being truthful. Feels like my bones have turned to jelly."

He frowns, "well that's far from ideal. Does anywhere in particular hurt? I'd like to make sure you're not actively bleeding out on me."

You shake your head, though the action makes your eyes blur, "just my head, really. Well, and my whole body aches, but that's no different than usual. I had been bleeding out, I think, but Astarion threw a potion and that staunched it."

He huffs. "Right. Where were you bleeding out from?"

You blink. "Oh, sorry. My side, under my ribs. Big sword."

He nods. "Do you mind lifting your shirt slightly? I just want to make sure the wound is closed properly."

You nod, and as you curl your fingers around the hem of your shirt he drops his various supplies between you both. There's a collection of healing salves, as well as a mundane first-aid kit.

He notices you looking. "Healing magic isn't a particular proficiency of mine. For anything small I figured we could make do the old fashioned way."

It makes your heart clench a bit, the tenderness and thoughtfulness he's extending towards you, so you nod dumbly instead of saying anything. You lift your shirt to expose your waist to him.

He sucks in a breath, and a look at his face tells you the wound is definitely not staunched.

"That bad, huh?"

To his credit, he does a good job of steeling his features into something neutral. He also does a good job of stealthily avoiding the question. "Nothing that can't be fixed. Do you mind if I...?"

He gestures towards you with his hands, and once again you're mute as you nod. He places his fingers gently against the sore skin around the cut and you flinch. He responds with a sympathetic grimace.

"Sorry, I just need to check how deep it is. The spell will be more effective if I know how far it needs to penetrate." You brace yourself as he touches the wound again, and he nods to himself as he inspects it. "It's a clean cut which means it shouldn't be too difficult to heal. What exactly happened?"

You wince again, though it's not from pain this time. You don't particularly want to go into the details with him; it's certain to upset him. He looks at you expectantly though, and his gentle touch on your skin is clouding your thoughts a little. You sigh.

"One of the guards. He lunged at Cal while his back was turned." Rolan's eyes widen. You shrug noncommittally, hoping to ease his concern. "I jumped in to stop it, so it caught me instead."

Rolan just stares at you, blinking.

"I..." He keeps staring at you. "You... You leapt in front of a blade to protect my brother?"

You wince again, making a sucking noise with your teeth. "... Sorry?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes, lines appearing on his forehead. "I don't know whether I should punch you or kiss you."

You feel your heart leap, and you let a coy smirk dance across your lips, "if you're taking suggestions, I certainly have a preference."

He huffs out a laugh, and opens his eyes to look at you again. You can tell he's trying to look frustrated, but there's a shadow of a smile on his face. "Gods, you would, wouldn't you? I've never known you to not have an opinion on something."

His reaction emboldens you, "I have several opinions on the matter, in fact. Are you taking suggestions? I can give you an extensive list."

There's a cocky grin on his features now, and he leans in til his breath is ghosting over your face. Just as you think he's about to kiss you, he speaks instead.

"I thanked you once already. Don't be greedy."

The tone he utters the words in is low and gravelly, teasing in a way that's absolutely maddening, and you shudder involuntarily as he leans away from you. He looks very proud of himself.

You roll your eyes. "Whatever, you tease. Hurry up and fix me, will you?"

His gaze falls back to your wound at that, and his face drops. He trails a finger featherlight around the cut, which sends a shiver through you, and when he speaks his tone is serious again.

"Thank you, Tav. Truly. My family and I are eternally in your debt. Cal and Lia..." His eyes go slightly misty. "They're everything to me. I'm sorry you were injured, but I'm so deeply thankful for your help."

It's such a painfully genuine comment, and the only thing that feels right in the moment that follows is to rest your hand atop his free one where it rests on his knee. You don't say anything, but you don't think you need to.

He clears his throat. "Right, I'm going to cast the spell now, if you're ready? It might sting due to the wound's depth, but I'll try to be careful."

You nod, "I trust you."

An emotion you can't quite place flickers across his eyes, and you squeeze his hand gently before withdrawing. He grabs your hand before it gets very far, though, and flushes as he places it on his knee. He pointedly avoids your eye contact as he laces his fingers with yours.

"I... I can do it one handed."

You've absolutely not known him long enough for your heart to flutter the way it does, but you find you don't care very much. You squeeze his hand and shoot him a smile, before gesturing down at your abdomen.

"Go ahead, I'm ready."

You feel his magic dance along your skin and you gasp at the sensation. It's somehow cool and warm simultaneously, and it tingles as your flesh knits together. The feeling is different to when the others heal you. Shadowheart's magic feels like being bathed in a warm light, Halsin's feels like blades of grass tickling your dermis. Rolan's healing magic feels more like a soft breeze blowing through an open window; it feels like the particles you can see in the air when the light hits at a particular angle. It's gentle and homely, like being wrapped up in a tender embrace, and it reminds you of the soothing voice someone might use to comfort a child.

All too soon the feeling subsides, and you realise that your eyes have fallen shut. You open them slowly, blinking in the light of the room, and find Rolan already looking at you. His face is open and unguarded, and his eyes flicker across your features as though he's trying to memorise them. When he speaks, it's in a low whisper, as if the very air around the pair of you is fragile.

"... How do you feel?"

You consider his question. You take in the lingering fluttering sensation of his dissipating magic, the feeling of his fingers laced through yours, the exposed expression he wears as his eyes dance over you. You're not quite sure what to say.

So instead you say nothing, and you lean forward and press your lips into his.

His mouth is pliant under yours, his lips satin smooth. You feel rather than hear his intake of breath as you make contact with him, and his grip on your hand tightens minutely. It's a tender, fleeting thing, the kiss you give him, and when you pull away you can't help the goofy smile that spreads across your face.

"Far better, now."

He scoffs, but there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before, and he's leaning back in. There's no hurry to his movements as he parts your lips, and you sink into the feeling of his mouth against yours. When you separate again, he's wearing a beaming grin that matches your own.

"As lovely as this is," the hand that isn't gripping yours comes up to caress your cheek, "I'd like to finish healing you. Is there anywhere else that hurts?"

You shake your head, then hesitate as the movement makes your skull throb. "Well... I have a pounding headache."

He chuckles, and both of his hands come up to the base of your neck as he leans into your space. He threads his fingers upwards through the hair there, the rest of your locks cascading over his forearms, and you shiver and let your eyes flutter shut as the hum of his magic washes over you once more. He scratches his nails lightly against your scalp and you let out a contented moan. Another soft laugh escapes him and you feel his breath against your cheek, which makes you shudder.

When his magic recedes again, your head feels warm and fuzzy, and you lean into his touch to encourage him not to let go.

"Don't fall asleep on me, Tav, I need to make sure you're fully healed."

You shake your head and plant your face into his neck, and Gods, his skin is so soft and warm. When he starts to chastise you again, you tilt your head and place soft open mouth kisses against his skin, and now he's the one shivering under your touch.

"Tav..." His tone is low, and you feel it in your chest. You hum in response which makes him shudder, and you feel his neck bob as he swallows heavily. "Tav, you need to rest."

You lift your face away from his skin, just enough to speak. "Do you want me to stop?"

He shivers again, and his fingers tighten their grip in your hair. "I should think you know the answer to that already."

You giggle, and reward his honesty with a light suck of the soft skin. He groans fully at that, and you feel the noise travel directly south. You can't help but pull the skin between your teeth and tease it gently.

"Gods," it's more of a breath than a word, "Tav, I- Can I kiss you? Please?"

You sit up and kiss him and he moans into your mouth as you slide your tongue against his. It's a maddening kiss, slow despite the underlying heat to both of your actions. Rolan's the one to break it, to your immense chagrin. You try to lean back in but he holds you at arms length by your shoulders.

"Tav." His voice is chiding, the tone reminiscent of the one you might use to chastise a cat that won't stop bringing you vole. "I'm not finished healing you."

The groan you let out is fairly childish, but whatever. It makes him laugh.

"Come on, I seem to remember you saying you wanted to lay down."

He eases you back til your head rests on the pillows. They're soft and downy, and Rolan's touch on your skin as he positions you on them is so light that you feel goosebumps raise on your skin. He sits facing you, one leg drawn up onto the mattress.

"Gods, Tav, you look exhausted. When was the last time you had a proper rest?"

You laugh at that, which probably isn't the reaction he was hoping for. "Never?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose again, before looking back at you. "Okay, I'm going to use a general healing spell over your whole body, to hopefully ease some of your aches and pains. It'll close up any small wounds and then you can actually sleep."

When you nod, his hands come to hover above you and the staticy feeling of his magic reaches out to you as he connects with the weave. His hands trail over your body without touching you, making their way across your whole form, and by the time he's finished you feel like you're surrounded by a cloud. He's gotten rid of aches you didn't even know you had.

You only realise you're half asleep when you register the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek, so barely there that you could be imagining it, before you feel the bed dip as he moves to stand. You reach a hand out and grab at him blindly, catching the edge of his robe. It makes him pause, and you blink your eyes open.

"Stay."

The look that spreads across his face is so raw and full of emotion that you almost feel like you should close your eyes to give him privacy. There's a softness to his gaze you've never seen on him before, and he swallows thickly and gives one small nod. You shuffle over enough to make room for him, and he unbuckles the silver gorget he wears over his robes, placing it gently on the small table next to the bed. You expect him to lay down then, but he stands for another moment hesitating, before eventually bringing his hands to the sash that holds his robes together. The flush that rises to your cheeks makes your whole face warm, and you watch his fingers (he has beautiful hands) as they untie the laces and drag the robe off his shoulders, so that he's left just in his plain undershirt and baggy trousers.

You're pretty sure you've never been this turned on from seeing someone wearing clothes, but there's something about seeing Rolan in casual dress rather than his wizarding attire that ignites a fire low in your gut. He takes a moment to toe off his boots, and just as he goes to get in bed he pauses.

"Is this definitely what you want? I don't want to intrude on your rest."

You'd roll your eyes if you had enough energy, but instead you pat the bed beside you. He chuckles and finally clambers onto the mattress. He keeps a respectful distance, lying on his back with one hand folded onto his chest and his ankles crossed over each other. His other hand brushes against the back of your own where it rests between you.

~~~

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 rolan #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fluff #bg3 requests #holy rolan empire #rolan #rolan bg3 #tav x rolan #rolan x tav

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traeumenvonbuechern · 1 year

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🐉 Dragon Books To Read If You Liked "Fourth Wing" by Rebecca Yarros 🐉

The dragon romantasy "Fourth Wing" by Rebecca Yarros has taken over the bookish community, so I wanted to give you some recommendations on what to read after you finished it.

Dragonfall by L.R. Lam

Long ago, humans betrayed dragons, stealing their magic and banishing them to a dying world. Centuries later, their descendants worship dragons as gods. But the 'gods' remember, and they do not forgive. Since they were orphaned, Arcady has scraped a living thieving on the streets of Vatra, dreaming of life among the nobility - and revenge. When the chance arises to steal a powerful artefact from the bones of the Plaguebringer, the most hated person in Lumet history, they jump at it, for its magic holds the key to their dreams. But the spell has unintended consequences, and drags Everen - the last male dragon, who was once foretold to save his kind - into the human world. Trapped, and disguised as a human, Everen soon realises that the key to his destiny, and to regaining his true power, lies in Arcady. All he needs to do is convince one little thief to bond with him completely - body, mind, and soul - and then kill them . . . Yet the closer the two become, the greater the risk both their worlds will shatter.

To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose

A young Indigenous woman enters a colonizer-run dragon academy—and quickly finds herself at odds with the “approved” way of doing things—in the first book of this brilliant new fantasy series. The remote island of Masquapaug has not seen a dragon in many generations—until fifteen-year-old Anequs finds a dragon’s egg and bonds with its hatchling. Her people are delighted, for all remember the tales of the days when dragons lived among them and danced away the storms of autumn, enabling the people to thrive. To them, Anequs is revered as Nampeshiweisit—a person in a unique relationship with a dragon. Unfortunately for Anequs, the Anglish conquerors of her land have different opinions. They have a very specific idea of how a dragon should be raised, and who should be doing the raising—and Anequs does not meet any of their requirements. Only with great reluctance do they allow Anequs to enroll in a proper Anglish dragon school on the mainland. If she cannot succeed there, her dragon will be killed. For a girl with no formal schooling, a non-Anglish upbringing, and a very different understanding of the history of her land, challenges abound—both socially and academically. But Anequs is smart, determined, and resolved to learn what she needs to help her dragon, even if it means teaching herself. The one thing she refuses to do, however, is become the meek Anglish miss that everyone expects. Anequs and her dragon may be coming of age, but they’re also coming to power, and that brings an important realization: the world needs changing—and they might just be the ones to do it.

She Who Earned Her Wings by Vaela Denarr & Micah Iannandrea

One does not learn to fly without taking a leap. And one has to fall to be caught. Nomi is a young druid finally taking the chance to spread her wings and leave her home. To see the world and discover its magic, beauty… and maybe love. Calia is a dragon on the hunt for angels, trying to square an old debt. That, and to get Laura, her desired bondmate, to finally return to her side, where she belongs. Nomi immediately catches the eye of the powerful dragons. Calia entices her with honeyed words and a skillful tongue. On the other hand, Laura, much smaller but equally intimidating, takes it upon herself to protect her. Despite the warnings, Nomi can’t help being drawn to Calia's charm, her power, her fangs… and the hidden gentleness in her eyes. She promises danger where Laura promises safety, and Nomi is torn between the two. Luckily there is a convenient cult out for the dragons’ heads, providing Nomi with ample distraction and at least one dragon egg to steal, hatch, and raise by herself. Perfectly normal things for a young transgender druid to get involved in! In the clutches of dragons, battling dark forces from beyond the stars, Nomi faces the questions of who she is and who she wants to be. Whether she deserves the love offered to her, and what it truly takes to earn her wings...

#fourth wing #the empyrean #rebecca yarros #dragonfall #l.r. lam #to shape a dragon's breath #moniquill blackgoose #she who earned her wings #vaela denarr #micah iannandrea #dragon books #trans books #queer books #fantasy books #booklr #bookblr

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ineffable-suffering · 8 months

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The Curious Incident of The Flaming Sword in Good Omens

Just like so many other Good Omens red herrings, hints and *Aziraphale voice* clues, the question of 'What the fuck ist the deal with Aziraphale's flaming sword' has been absolutely tormenting my mind ever since S1 dropped all those years ago.

And while many of my other questions about S2 (like 'What the fuck is the deal with the Eccles cakes' or 'Who the fuck made the Gabriel statue') remain unanswered and could, possibly, just not matter at all and I should just get the fuck over them– the unsolved case of Aziraphale's flaming sword in S1 has always seemed like a weirdly important blind spot to me.

So, in an attempt to finally solve this knot in my brain, I made a timeline for the bloody Flaming Sword because what else would I spend my Friday evening on. Here goes nothing, I thought:

Aziraphale gets issued the sword by Heaven to guard the Garden of Eden in 4004 BC, and gives it away to the humans.

God asks him about it right after they humans have left Eden, Aziraphale lies to her and before even finishing speaking, God just loggs off and doesn't seem to care anymore.

The sword seems to be lost for the next 6000 years to follow and, once again, no one really cares.

The first time we see it again is when the International Express Man delivers it to War in the present day.

The next time we see it after that, is when Pepper effectively kicks war in the shin, makes her drop the sword and proceeds to anihilate her with it.

Brian and Wensleydale do the same to Famine and Pollution.

Aziraphale then wields the sword once more, despite never having to really use it (but hey, it looks capital-B Badass).

Lastly, our Holy Delivery Guy then picks up the sword together with the other (now deceased?) Horsmen's artefacts and they once again vanish.

Needless to say, I found myself nothing the wiser after making this timeline. It seemed completely useless. I still had no idea why the sword even existed and why they kept making such a big fucking fuss about it all throughout Season 1. So, I decided to make another list, this time with all the random ass questions I had about this random ass sword:

Why was it issued to Aziraphale in the first place? Since when does an angel need a random flaming weapon to protect two (2) humans that are already being guarded by a hundred-meter-high wall, when he could very well just miracle away any and every threat to both himself and them?

Was he given the sword to defend himself against demons? If so, why would they give him a burning blade instead of, for example, a Supersoaker full of Holy Water? (Sure, I'm fairly certain Supersoakers hadn't been invented yet, but you catch my drift)

Is the sword actually burning with hellfire? If so, it would a) still be a pretty useless weapon against demons, but also b) possibly explain why Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale were able to kill or at least temporarily get rid of three of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (who, be they whatever they actually are, surely count as some sort of immortal entities just like angels and demons do)

Did the sword actually kill War, Pollution and Famine? After all, the World as we knew it did get reinstated by Adam again once they managed to stop Armageddon. Does that mean that the three Horsemen were revived again too? Unless Season 2 takes place in a war-less, pollution-less and famine-less world, they must have somehow made their return (or never really died in the first place)

Where. The Fuck. Is. The Sword. Now? And why does it bother me so much???????

Alas, just like so many other questions, these too seemed to remain unsolved. And since the fucking sword didn't make a comeback in S2, I guessed that it probably just wasn't more than ... well, a randomly flaming, randomly misplaced, randomly unexplained Flaming Sword.

Nothing more than a plot device.

Hmm, right. A ... plot device.

Hang on. (And that's when it finally hit me.)

It's a fucking plot device.

Most authors and consumers of media are familiar with the use of plot devices in story telling. However, I personally had only every seen characters be used as such, to merely bring an important point across or further underline or advance a story's or main character's development or plot.

It wasn't until I was about to simply give up because I couldn't see my way out of the seemingly unlimited sword-related questions anymore, that I realized: There are no answers to those questions. Just like there are no deeper meanings to any other plot devices. Their sole purpose it so shine some light onto another, more important thing, story or character.

And in this case, that character is Aziraphale. Or more so Aziraphale's choices and his relationship with and belief in God and Heaven. The Flaming Sword (or more so Aziraphale's giving-away of it) is the first way of showing us that Aziraphale:

doesn't always aka pretty much never obey God's will (even all the way back in The Beginning),

will lie to God about disobeying Her

and possibly, just like Crowley joked about, was the one who by trying to do a Good Thing, accidentally gave away something that would later somehow become a literal War weapon, lmao

It also tells us that:

God apparently doesn't always care or cast them out of Heaven when an angel actively disobeys and lies to Her. Or, for all we know, Aziraphale giving the sword away and not admitting to it was somehow part of Her Ineffable Plan anyway.

Heaven is apparently absolutely useless at keeping track of its very few ethereal belongings. That's what you get for outsourcing work, you capitalists.

Right at The End, the sword returns to its owner who had it right in The Beginning too: Aziraphale. And not just that: It actually ends up saving the humans. For the second time. First all the way back in Eden, when it was just Adam and Eve. And now, 6000 years later, at what would have been the end of the World. Very poetic, *wipes away tear*

So yeah, there you go. That's the big revelation I have come to. Would I have preferred to uncover yet another sneaky Gaimanian easter egg just so I could wave it in your face like some sort of a puzzle solved at a scavenger hunt?

Sure.

But hey, sometimes flaming sword plot devices are just that. And I'll make my peace (or War?) with it.

#good omens #good omens s1 #gos1 #aziraphale #the flaming sword #this has been haunting me for years #because im insane in the membrane #alas i solved it #or something like that #my own meta

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