#and tried to scrape out whatever she could. even though i wanted her to stop because it hurt so bad i would start crying everytime | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smoochhyuka · 3 months

Text

Hair-pulling with Anton

Beware of the sassy man apocalypse

○o。content warnings! NSFW, fem!reader, oral (reader receiving), making out, perv!Anton (he's getting his hair pulled), very subtle dom!reader, she's kinda rough with him because she is a bit clumsy, a lil bit of exhibitionism??, a lil bit of strength kink (reader gets picked up), lots of making out bc that's all I think about with Anton, established relationship, mention of partying once, edited for spelling

Knowing Anton's love language is physical touch, you make sure to spoil him a lot. He loves to lie down in your lap, while you massage and scratch his scalp. Naturally, you'd also play with his hair, braiding it, or adding clips, and sometimes you get a little carried away, yanking at it a little harder than you intended to do...

That's how he discovered this kink, the tingle of your nails scraping him, the sharp pain if you pull too hard, feeling oddly dominated while you (innocently) do to him as you please.

Since he struggles to express himself verbally, he tries to make you tug at his hair during sex. Every time he eats you out, he puts one of your hands on top of his head, but instead of gripping it tightly, you just push it down a little bit further into your pussy, bumping into is nose, just to let go off him immediately, digging your fingers into whatever item was closest instead. When fucking you in missionary, he would try the same, this time you'd pull him down into a kiss (he's not necessarily complaining about this, though...).

The first time you actually pulled at his hair, you were just being playful. Anton was in an especially sassy mood that night and couldn't stop making petty remarks about everything you would say, while you two were binge-watching a random dating show.

"Why won't he just answer truthfully? He had no issue telling the other boys!", you exclaim, annoyed at the male single, who just bashfully lied to his date. "Y/N, why are you so uncompassionate? He wants to impress her." Anton sighs, rolling his eyes and dramatically crossing his arms in front of his chest, actually taking them off your shoulders. He can't contain his giggle, though, especially after looking at your annoyed face. You choose not to answer, being done with his antics. You also don't stop him as he's embracing you again, not even sparing him a glance, as he starts to press little pecks on your cheeks. Anton's kisses move further down your face, but before he could place one on your lips, you finally decide to tease him back: you lightly tug at his hair, the longer strands at the back of his head, pulling him away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for the moan that leaves his lips. You can see his dick swelling in his shorts, even in this dim lighting you can see how his ears turn a pretty shade of red. A relieved grin forms on his face, biting his lower lip, closed eyes, his glasses slipping down his nose a little bit -- you would never forget this expression.

From then on, you start using his little weakness, as you call it, to your advantage. If you want him to do something for you, like getting a water bottle as you are both already lying in bed, you'd start playing with his hair, wrapping it around your finger, massaging his scalp. After just a minute of this, he'll get up.

If he's getting on your nerves, teasing you or being sassy, you would play with the hair at the back of his neck as a warning, scratching the sensitive skin that's becoming riddled in goosebumps. Most of the time he'd only get worse, though, provoking you until you finally, and cautiously, yank his head back, asking him in your sweet voice to stop while keeping the pressure on his scalp.

Making out with Anton was always fun, sexy and passionate, but this definitely alleviated it for the two of you. Previously, you'd rather awkwardly place your hands on his shoulders or chest, but now you have them buried deeply into his light brown hair, pulling him occasionally closer by his cheeks.

You both can't stop kissing each other, surprising everyone at how shamelessly the shy Anton would french kiss you in public, just like he does tonight. One of your friends asked you to join her to this random house party at the house of some guy she is currently seeing, and since you knew she'd probably be gone the moment you step through the door, you decided to drag your boyfriend along to keep you company. Quickly, you two got bored, and decided to just make out in the kitchen. You're sitting on the counter, Anton standing between your legs, kneading your hips and ass. So immersed and turned on by the heated session, none of you noticed your friend stumbling in, until she's standing right next to you, jokingly complaining how rude you two are for hiding from everyone else. In actuality, none of you feel like returning to the group, instead you'd rather drive home and fuck his brains out. Much to your demise, your polite boyfriend actually starts to talk to her, but before he could promise her that you'd return to the crowd, you pull Anton's hair by the side of his head, until he's facing away from her, feeling overwhelmed by the heat pooling between your legs, just wanting to get her out. You yank at it with so much force he didn't even moan like usual, he just hisses at the pain. You quickly relieve your grip and tell your friend honestly that you two will leave soon, urging her to walk away, and immediately and panicky starting to kiss your boyfriends neck, worrying you hurt him. The moment she closes the door behind her, you wanted to apologize for being too rough, especially in front of another person, but Anton surprises you yet again by not only putting your hands back on his head, but also picking you up and carrying you out the backdoor to your car.

He moans so loudly when you pull at his hair, especially when he's inside you. His beautiful, light and airy voice sounds almost angelic as he's begging you in a whiny tone to pull harder. He cums so hard, his legs start to shake.

He's so desperate too, popping a boner as soon as your nails scrape his scalp, any rational thought leaving his mind. He'll actually giggle or laugh at every yank, feeling so much pleasure his heart pounds against his chest.

He doesn't really care if others are around when you pull his hair, in fact, it's usually the hottest since he least expects it, the humiliation only adding another layer to it. Since you usually do it rather spontaneously too, the tugs tend to be a lot rougher as well.

He cums just from getting his hair pulled while eating you out, your legs wrapped around his head, wet, swollen pussy rubbing against his tongue and nose, being engulfed by your sweet smell. Adding the friction from the mattress below his cock is more than enough to make him burst, loudly and whiny.

Kinda off-topic, but I hc him to be a little bit masochistic? Not just with the hair-pulling, but he'd also be into the asphyxiation aspect of cunnilingus (sitting on his face, wrapping thighs around his head...) and might even like it if you slap him lightly. He likes to feel owned, like you do to him as you please. It might be the depravity of it, since I also don't think he's solely submissive. He enjoys taking charge, I mean, you can still pull his hair, squish his face with your hand or bite him while he's pounding into you. lol

#anton x reader #riize x reader #smoochwrites #riize smut #anton smut #anton hard hours #anton hard thoughts

743 notes · View notes

raygunny · 7 months

Text

Tav's Name

Word count: 661

The party finds out that 'Tav' is actually just a nickname. She refuses to tell them what it's short for, which is very unlike her. Cue the burning curiosity from the whole camp. Everyone approaches her in their own way.

Karloch tries the direct approach - essentially bugging Tav throughout the day. 'Just checking if you want to tell me now', she says with a grin each time. Reassuring Tav that if it's embarrassing, she'll try her best not to laugh. It's all in good fun though, no real pressure. She just likes teasing Tav about it at this point.

Wyll keeps throwing out names like she's Rumpelstiltskin. He starts out strong with 'Octavia', but towards the end of the day he's really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Tav's not sure why he's even trying this strategy - she already told him she wouldn't confirm or deny his guesses. She suspects that he and Gale made some sort of bet to see who can figure it out first. He finally gives up when he wholeheartedly guesses, 'Tavern?'

Speaking of Gale, he keeps trying to casually bring it up in conversation. 'You know, I was reading a fascinating book the other day about the power of names. I'd be remiss if I didn't offer to look yours up - if you wanted to of course. Our little secret', he says with a wink. He's so bad at being casual. She just shakes her head at each worsening attempt, it almost makes her want to tell him out of pity. Or to get him to stop pestering her, she's not quite sure.

Astarion thinks to himself, how could I have missed this? - followed up by - and why won't she tell us? Between the two of them, he's the one that's usually keeping secrets - not the other way around. How very intriguing. He tries to charm it out of her, 'I just want to know what name to call out next time we have a little midnight rendezvous', he says with that charming smirk on his face. When she dodges all his tricks and refuses to budge, that's...irritating to say the least. He can't stop thinking about her though, well her name that is. Ahem.

Shadowheart is not really all that interested in trying to coax out Tav's secrets. As a follower of Shar, she respects the secrets of others. And if Tav isn't telling them, then it must be for a reason. That still doesn't stop her from at least trying. 'I would share one of my secrets if you share yours', she says late at night when it's just the two of them by the fire. It's unlike her, but she's grown very fond of Tav. She can spare one small secret, she tells herself.

Lae'zel really couldn't care less about what Tav's full name is. Nickname or not - the only important thing is that Tav responds when Lae'zel yells her name out in battle. After watching the group pester her all day, she doesn't even ask. Though, that doesn't mean she hasn't been keeping an ear out when the others have made their attempts.

Halsin, the respectful yet smooth guy he is, tells her with a soft smile, 'While I am quite curious and would love to hear what I'm sure is a very lovely name, I am perfectly content with whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me. Tav suits you well after all'. That almost gets it out of her, but she stays resolute. She can't give in so easily. Perhaps another night, she thinks.

There are no dark secrets or skeletons in the closet for Tav, but it does turn out Wyll was right - her first name is actually Tavern. She's always found it a little embarrassing, but it's not her fault that she was born in one and her folks just ran with it. She'll hold onto this secret till a day where she knows they all need a morale boost. She's sure she'll never hear the end of it.

675 notes · View notes

hiramaris · 4 months

Text

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 4

Chapter Summary:

“Thank you.” She couldn’t stop smiling, not if she can’t help it. “It’s really sweet of you to do all this.” “No problem. I like it when you smile. Happiness looks good in you.”

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: Swearing, mentions of neglect

Y/n, I’m not really good at writing a note or apologizing in general. I just… feel bad about how our introduction to one another went downhill which I know is my fault. I know it's kind of rude, too to take someone's photo without their consent so, here you go. It's not the best photo but it's not, like, the worse either. And you look like you're in one with nature so the photographer in me couldn't help but to take the shot. Anyway, if you have time away from your farm, you can drop by at 2 Willow Lane in the morning or whatever so I can make it up to you somehow. It’s cool if you don’t want to if you’re, like, really mad still. P.S I don’t wake up until 8. Need my beauty sleep! - Haley <3

Spring 9

"Earlier, I was getting my mail."

Haley's chewing came to a halt as George began to speak. How odd. George wasn’t one to talk during meals. She knew this because there was never a time she missed mandatory weekly meals with the Mullners.

Nonetheless, she leaned a bit closer to hear him.

"I couldn't because of my...” he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. “Anyway, Pam's kid tried to help me, and I ended up shouting at her." "My goodness, George!” Gran Evelyn gasped softly, placing a hand over her heart. “Why did you do that to poor Penny?" "I— she pushed my wheelchair and touched my mail.” He averted his gaze, looking everywhere but at the three pairs of eyes focused on him. If Haley didn’t know him any better, he almost looked embarrassed rather than angry. “I... I didn't like it when people act like I'm so nimble." Granny shook her head in sympathy. "Still, honey... She's just trying to help." "I know, I know," George grumbled, stabbing his fork into a fried mushroom. "The new farmer even pointed it out to me." He looked up, his eyes boring into his wife. "I apologized anyway. It was just a bad day, and I happened to project my anger onto her."

At the mention of the new farmer, Haley perked up. Not to sound obsessed or anything or like she has been counting at all, but it has been two days since she had caught a whiff of that familiar scent of dirt and freshly cut grass that you seemed to radiate even from a mile away. If Emily’s going to twist her arm behind her back, then maybe she’ll be able to get Haley to admit that she’s the one doing the avoiding right now.

The fact that it was Haley herself who wrote a note for you to come by to make up for her rude behavior, and then when you did drop by immediately a day after, Haley would make sure she had plenty of excuses to not meet you at the door and have Emily answer on her behalf. It’s been days and she’s running out of reasons to tell Emily why she couldn’t meet her visitor, and it wouldn’t take a genius to know who’s avoiding whom.

How could she not though?

How can someone recover from a situation like that which was probably scraped off from a romantic script of a movie because it’s too predictable, and cringe?

How can you look at someone ever again knowing you had seen that face in mere inches, breath tingling the cheeks and then act like you weren’t fazed by it all?

Most importantly, how do you act after that? Apparently, it didn’t seem like a problem for you as you were so busy hustling and bustling in and out of the farm and into the town. And if you weren't busy doing your chores, then you were always dragged down by Sam’s little brother to their little class arrangement with Penny and often found you hanging out with them by the big tree just outside Haley’s home which is why she knows not because she’s actively searching for you, duh.

Okay, maybe you did try to come to her, and Haley's the one acting like you and she had a one-night stand for the way she avoids you like a plague.

Still.

She shook her head when she realized she’d been zoning out longer than she warranted. Evelyn is still giving George a piece of her mind for what he did. Haley’s so sure he’s regretting his decision by now opening this topic to his wife.

However, it was clear to Haley who was in the wrong here.

"If I may put in my two cents...?" she interjected, unable to hold back.

Alex raised a curious brow at her but remained silent. Granny, on the other hand, nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead, deary."

"I think George's reaction was valid," Haley began slowly, choosing her words carefully. "Penny touched your wheelchair and mail without consent, regardless of her good intentions, Mr. Mullner." And as an afterthought, she added, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice, "And the new farmer agreed with her? She should have known better."

"Look at you, Hay. Queen of consent!" Alex teased, a smirk playing on his lips. "I love a girl who knows her boundaries."

Of course, the doofus would choose this time to speak.

"Haha," she rolled her eyes at a smirking Alex. He sure knows what buttons to push. "Asking consent is a bare minimum, you goof. You should practice it more often." "Hey!" "Hng," George grumbled inaudibly. "Little Miss Farmer did say that."

"Say what, dear?" "That Pam's kid should have asked me first.” George clarified. “But I should have handled it a little better, too. Can't say that she's wrong."

Despite his use of tone, he didn’t sound too upset. More like he’s in between of unable to believe that someone has the courage to stand up to him and tell him he’s wrong and still respect him as an elder, or being mad at this new farmer for sticking up her nose somewhere it doesn’t belong.

Either way, a George that isn’t grumpy is a win-win. So, they all will probably take it as it is.

"I'm glad you thought so too, dear." See? Even Granny thinks so, too. It’s better to have a plate full of her infamous cookies (and leek if you’re George) than to have a grumpy George on your plate. "Here, have some sauté leek."

George's face brightens up considerably. "I thought we don't have anymore from the pantry?"

"Miss Y/n dropped some earlier. Said to help cook your favorite dish. Isn’t she a sweetheart?”

"Hmm... I guess she's really something else then."

"I told you so, dear."

"Agree!" Alex raises a thumbs up. "She even knows how to play grid ball! She's new yet she's already better than the men here combined."

"That's lovely, deary. I hope she also influences you to read those books I gave you. I heard she's infatuated with books as Miss Penny does." "Yes, granny," Alex grumbled against his spoon.

Spring 10

She didn’t expect to see you so soon.

It’s not like she wants to avoid you forever. Ugh.

Why is this so difficult?

Her whole Spring routine is now in shambles because of you and your inability to dress nice, spreading your nasty farmer smell and being all happy smiles around children, elders, and women like some sort of Casanova and it’s infuriating!

“Hay?” Emily’s voice calling out from the kitchen stops her from her silent stewing. Haley was about to get up from her seat when Emily's voice continued, "did you clean the cushions like I told you yesterday?"

Her expression immediately turned sour, “I just cleaned them last week!”

The clanging from the kitchen stops, and the thudding of footsteps came closer. In an instant, Emily was standing in front of her with her spatula in hand.

“Yes, that’s last week. What about this week then?”

Haley rose to her feet, indignant. No freaking way she’s cleaning them again. “I always clean under the cushions and you damn well know it!" She jutted a perfectly manicured finger in Emily's direction. "It's YOUR turn this week!"

Emily scoffed at that. “You’re being childish, Haley. I do the vast majority of work in this house, and you know it.”

Haley rolled her eyes, feeling frustrated that Emily always played the responsible one. Just because she had a job outside the house, she acted like she was the only one doing anything. Haley does, too! She cooks, washes the dishes, does her own laundry, and cleans the house! But of course, Emily isn’t around enough to see all that because she has work and she’s busy thinking Haley’s lazy ass is just lounging in the house doing nothing all day!

“But that’s not the point!” Haley crossed her arms, a flash of irritation on her face. She wasn't going to let Emily get away with this. “We agreed to have schedules specifically for this and you’re not following it!”

Emily's eyes flickered with frustration. “Would it kill you to do them now? I had a rough shift yesterday.”

"You can't just pass off your responsibilities onto me every time you had a tough day at work. We made a schedule for a reason."

"I know, I know. But I just need a break today." Emily sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping.

The truth sets out then. She had a rough night and she passes the job onto Haley and made her feel guilty for it. Never mind that they agreed to have alternate schedules to do this specific job to avoid arguments yet here they are.

“Absolutely no—”

“Hello?”

Of fucking course, the farmer chooses that time to knock on their door.

Emily must have noticed the alarmed look written clearly on her face, making her smirk.

Oh, boy.

“Come in, Y/n/n! Haley’s up already.”

“Good mor—” You did a double take seeing a clearly upset Haley and an equally pissed Emily. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Haley admitted bluntly, crossing her arms. A flash of recognition passed her eyes when she thought of an idea. A good one that’s for sure. “Since you’re a hard worker and all, I bet you’ll understand my point of view here.”

“Haley,” Emily warned. Haley ignores her, deciding to shift her attention to the newcomer.

You tilt your head in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Emily sighs in exasperation, before offering you a kind smile. “I’m really sorry to involve you in this, Y/n/n. Haley,” she shot her a dirty look, “is complaining because I asked her to clean the cushions—”

“— which you should be doing because it’s your schedule, not mine yet you’re shifting the blame to me.” Haley finishes for her. She turns to you, further proving her point. “It’s important to mention that I already cleaned them last week.”

“Haley…”

“Shut it, Em. I want to hear what she has to say. What’s the verdict?”

Haley may seem cool outside but she’s actually hoping for you to side her on this one. She knew she was on the right side. If you were to side with Emily, then that’s like a double edge of crap in some way and Haley refuses to bleed in front of you two.

You were silent for a good second, chewing your lips, deep in thought. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the sisters.

“Haley,” you prompted, voice slow and measured. Haley already knew at this point whom you sided with. “Why not have this be your one weekly job?”

Not that it’s important but it stings.

Haley turns to retreat to her room, but you must have noticed the look of utter disappointment on her face. You grabbed Haley's hand in panic, halting her in her tracks. The blonde couldn't help but freeze at the sudden touch. "W-wait. I’m not siding on anyone," You quickly clarified, hoping to diffuse the tension.

Haley raised a skeptical eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "Sure," she replied flatly.

“I just thought it would be the best course of action, so you don’t have to argue over it again. If you took this job, Emily won’t bother you again with cleaning the bathroom every two days. Isn’t that right, Em?”

“Yeah!” Emily agrees immediately. “Wait, what?”

Haley turns and finds you smiling down at her, clearly amused at Emily’s reaction. “doesn’t that sound more appealing?”

It does. She hates cleaning the bathroom with great passion, more so than cleaning under the cushions. If this also means it could possibly reduce Emily’s daily nagging, then your idea doesn’t seem the worst plan ever.

“Alright, you win.” Haley tried so hard to keep a straight face when she saw that stupid smile emerging again. “I guess this can be my job every week. Then there won’t be any reason to argue over it.”

Emily eyes her a bit at her sudden compliance with everything before turning back to you with an almost appreciative look. “Thanks, Y/n/n. That was a great solution.”

“Heh,” you must have noticed Haley’s eyes burning at your conjoined hands. With a timid chuckle, you retreated your hand back as you scratched your nape almost shyly. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” Emily suggested. “I’m almost finished cooking anyway.”

“It’s okay, thanks! But I don’t really want to impose.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure my sister won’t mind you joining us. Right, Hay?” Emily raises an equally blue eyebrow at her sister, who seemed to be in a daze.

“Your hands are rough and warm.”

“Huh?”

Your confusion snapped her out of her trance. She meets your eyes for a brief moment before glancing away. “I mean— what I meant to say was,” she sputtered pathetically. “Yeah, you can join us for breakfast.” She forces out a smile, hoping Yoba will answer her prayer one more time.

“Good!” Emily beamed. “Then I’ll get on with it. Haley, please keep our guest occupied.”

“You sure?” You asked one more time, probably noticing the grimace obviously etched on her face.

“Of course.”

“Hmm. Okay, then how about we clean these cushions now? So, you won’t have to clean them later?”

“Eh? It’s fine. I can do that later.”

“I insist. Two pairs of hands are better than one, y’know?”

“Ugh. Of course, you’ll say some dorky crap like that. Yoba, fine you can help.”

You can only laugh at her antics before moving to lift the couch.

Spring 14

She used to like her birthdays.

At least that’s what she likes to think.

What she allows herself to think.

And what she likes others to think.

It’s easier to blend into the stereotypes rather than oppose them and still get judged after.

Haley’s been called names already, all too many to even mention.

Spoiled.

Arrogant.

Self-centered and conceited.

If they are harsh enough, sometimes they’ll call her a dumb bitch.

As harsh as they are, Haley learned over the years to desensitize herself to them. Why allow yourself to be hurt by the same thing over and over again?

Her parents raised her and Emily in this big house back in Zuzu City. It was big, enormous even but empty. Can you call it home when no one cares enough to stick around? When all there ever was were big parties, and holidays spent with strangers she barely talked to, raised like the perfect little girl that she is, given with just as empty praises and gifts just as thoughtless.

Haley is practically the epitome of class and luxury. The living embodiment of perfection. Perfect face, perfect body, and oh-so-perfect stats. She’s smart (street smart or preferably photography smart if there’s one or whatever), rich and famous. Most importantly, she’s popular and has a reputation to protect. Everything that Emily probably isn’t. Yet she’s the one happier.

She’s the one who moved on while Haley remains still where their parents left them.

How could they be gone though if, in the first place, they were never present? Where were they when Haley won her first photography contest? Did they know the photo was Emily sewing her first design? Haley doesn’t think so.

They are not abusive though. In terms of needs, they never wasted seconds to tend them in the most grandiose and luxurious ways as possible— the newest phone, latest camera, expensive make-up, and all available seasonal designer clothes. Good but not great either. Haley can say they are just plainly emotionally unavailable. They weren’t ready at all to be parents. They were too young when they had Emily.

Early twenties were not even that young, but it was a stage of exploring the world and what it could still possibly offer them. They can’t have all that with children in tow. So, when the opportunity arises, they took it without hesitations. After all, both their children are fully capable on their own.

But Haley needed someone. She needed a father. She needed her mother. Hell, she needed her sister. She needed someone warm, a nicer, wiser person. Someone to cry to, to talk to, to laugh to.

She calls out but the house is empty.

So, tell me. How can I be childish when I’m forced to grow up because everyone already is?

Haley hated them with passion. The crumpled piece of letter in her hand was obvious enough to what extent she does.

Another birthday card.

No hugs and kisses.

No cake.

No parents.

Some birthday this is.

She lets out a dry chuckle. It seems Emily had forgotten about her day. She had taken off at dawn's first light without even a second thought. While Alex? She doesn’t expect him to remember. At least not until later than noon. The idiot, really.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Haley didn’t have to look up to see who it was, but she did anyway. There you are with your blinding smile again. Beads of sweat can be seen forming on the side of your forehead just below a small cut that seemed to be healing well already. Your clothes are lightly butchered, a sign she's up and about on her farm yet the sight of you lifted her spirit a little.

“Done with your chores?” She asked as you sat down next to her. Weirdly enough, the smell of dirt doesn't seem sore on the nose anymore, and Haley starts to wonder why.

It was a pleasantly warm Sunday. Usually, the kids will be playing here and Haley's glad she get to enjoy a quiet time in the park even for a little time.

You hummed. “Woke up extra early to finish them all.”

“Why? You have plans?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Naw, had to run some errands so I can give you this,” You turned to your rucksack that Haley failed to notice again. It was bulging. Haley could only catch sight of the color brown before you successfully hid it behind your back. “Held out your hands.”

Haley narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to prank me, are you?”

“What? No, of course not!”

“Is it a bug? You know I hate them.”

“Just do it, Hay.”

Surprised at the sudden usage of the nickname, Haley finally complied. She desperately hopes the sunlight would hide the tinge of redness starting to form on her cheeks.

Carefully, you placed a coconut on her open palms. It was plump and perfectly shaped as if it had been carefully chosen just for her. It was even wrapped poorly with a red ribbon that is a bit wrinkly and crinkled on the edges which must be because of how it was forcefully shoved in her bag. But Haley didn't find it in herself to mind. Not when you're looking at her like that as you hold your gift. “Happy birthday, Haley.” You greeted warmly.

Haley blinked, her eyes started to water, her insides warming up in all ways possible. But she didn’t dare cry.

"I... I love coconuts." Haley looked up. Her own lips betrayed her as they curled up in the widest grin she ever had. “How did you know?”

“Well,” You scratched the back of your head, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Remember when you treated my cut the other day? You made me choose between a sunflower band-aid or a coconut one. So, I kinda assumed they were your favorites.”

“B-but how? You can’t possibly summon a coconut tree at will, or even had the time to go to Calico desert.”

You laughed at that. “It was pure luck, Hay. I just talked to the traveling merchant the other day and she said she had a couple of ones in stock. But she warned me I had to buy one early today or else she’ll run out just before noon.”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t stop smiling, not if she can’t help it. “It’s really sweet of you to do all this.”

“No problem. I like it when you smile. Happiness looks good in you.”

Happiness looks good on you, too.

****

A/n: I hoped I did Haley's heart event justice because she deserved soooo much better. I refuse to believe her mean girl façade is because she's plain mean. My girl is better than that.

Anyway, sorry for the super late update. You know, the usual, due to school stuff and it just so happens senior year is the busiest year of all. Had to make sure I'm complying with all the needed requirements so I can graduate this year.

Thank you, guys, for your patience. Love y'all but I love my wife more <3

#stardew valley #stardew haley #stardew farmer #stardew fanfic #haley x reader #haley x farmer

176 notes · View notes

asolareclipses · 28 days

Text

(Previous part)

The room full of eyes burned into to him, and Nico imagined this is what ants felt like under a magnifying glass. Everyone looked at him expectantly, as if he knew everything about darkness. Something’s dark? Yeah just ask Nico he’ll definitely know. That didn’t really bother him though, because he didn’t blame them. If someone were to mention storms he’d look at Jason, probably. What bothered Nico was the fear that lay behind some of their eyes, a traitor was in camp, one hiding in darkness. It was only human to be suspicious.

“…I’m not sure what it is.” Nico said, it was a half truth. He had a hollow feeling that he knew who was behind this chaos, but it was a feeling he wanted to ignore for as long as he could. But the spirits he spoke to that morning had only confirmed his deepest worries.

“Well someone wanted you dead,” Dana said, “unless..”

“Unless?” If eyes could shoot daggers, Wills eyes would be shooting swords.

“Im not insinuating anything, but my mother’s Athena so I was taught to see the bigger picture.” She seemed hesitant as she spoke, “It would be a genius plan.”

Nico’s heart stopped. He felt like his did all those years ago as he watched, behind a dream, his friends debate whether he was worth saving. As accusation of trust which had destroyed him, despite him never speaking of it. He’d hadn’t even told Will, keeping that memory locked away as it slowly ate away at his sanity.

“You can’t be serious,” Will stood up. His voice was cold and harsh as ice, as his fists clenched in a sense of rage.

“No,” Nico stood up, he put his hand on Wills arm. Will had always fought tooth and nail for him, Nico wished he didn’t have to. Every time Wills gentle demeanor turned to that of anger, it made Nico feel an all consuming sense of shame; if only he could be more simple, more easy to handle. “It’s fine, if that’s what you think.” He tried to keep his voice steady, each breath he took brought him back to that table, that ship, that jar.

The room suddenly felt suffocating, the air felt too stale, he felt trapped again.

Will turned to him, his brows knit in utter concern, “Are you okay?”

His words felt muffled beneath the ringing in Nico’s ears, “Y-yeah..I just need a moment.” He didn’t want to, but his body took over as he rushed out of the front door. A second longer in that room had been unimaginable.

As his shoes hit the grass, it withered. He cursed under his breath as he tried to steady his hands.

“You’re not in that stupid jar, pull yourself together,” He muttered leaning against the wall along the side of the big house. Whatever breathing exercises Mr D. had taught him dissipated with his panic. He knew how stupid it was, running away as soon as someone accused him. That was probably the most suspicious thing that someone could do. ‘Oh are you the murderer’ ‘No, bye!’

Still, his stomach felt like as if it had been tied into several knots, corroding him from the inside out with painful moments from the past. He felt like he was there again, watching the two people he was closest to now, debating his life. Nico had never blamed them, he’d never hated them. It was never them who hurt him, it was himself. He hated himself.

Nico would’ve stayed there, drowning in his thoughts forever, if it weren’t for the sudden sounds of clashing that echoed through the camp. It sounded as if something was skittering across the ground, followed by metal scraping against rock. His hand instinctually went to where his sword would be, but unfortunately he’d left it in his cabin. Despite that he still headed towards the strange sound, attempting to be as silent as possible.

When he peeked around the corner he saw Mae, a new camper who had shown up with her younger brother Sam a week ago. They had been claimed as children of Hecate the night they showed up. The two of them reminded Nico of when he and Bianca first came to camp, he couldn’t decide if that was more painful or comforting. Unfortunately the sound wasn’t just Mae sword practicing, as a large shadowy creature stood infront of her. It was similar to a scorpion, but its form flowed with a wobbly consistency.

Mae stood there, sword in hand as she faced the creature. Her hands shook as she trembled in terror, Sam was hiding behind her. Nico could almost picture himself, that day at Westover, cowering behind Bianca as their Vice Principal turned into a monster.

The scorpion thing moved forward to strike and Nico rushed to intercept, it was incredibly stupid as he didn’t have a weapon, but still he charged ahead. Just as it thrust its claw towards Mae, Nico willed all the shadows it was made from against it. The darkness seemed to fight him, barely remaining under his control.

He bided enough time to grab the sister and brother, pushing them out of the way. “Mae, take Sam and run to the big house.” Nico said as he took the sword from her hand. His words were rushed as he could feel the scorpion regaining its control behind him.

“But I can help!” Mae’s eyes were filled with the same bravery Bianca’s had once shown.

“You don’t have to be a hero just yet okay? Just make sure Sam is safe for now,” He didn’t allow Mae to protest and she agreed, grabbing her brother by the arm and running off towards the big house.

Nico almost breathed a sigh of relief until he turned and was face to face (or what he presumed to be its face) with the creature. Up close, its shadows swirled and shifted like each was breathing on its own. Its claw lifted and swung at him, and Nico lifted his sword in an attempt to block the attack, but the sword passed through the creature like it was made of air. The claw kept going unbothered and Nico barely managed to move in time to not get chopped in half, unfortunately the sharp spikes along the claws managed to slice into his arm.

Nico reminded himself to never leave his cabin without his sword again as his arm began to drip with blood.

“What is that?!” The counselors from the big house had all began rushing out towards Nico, along with them, more campers rushed over too.

The scorpion turned towards the others, its void-like claws snapping. Nico knew there was nothing their swords could do to kill it; so in a last ditch effort he slammed his foot against the ground, a large crack spreading and swallowing the creature whole. A second later the crack sealed up, leaving a barren scar along the grass. The satyrs were going to hate him for that.

“Oh my Gods Nico what was that?” Leo had rushed forwards with Jason and Will.

“I don’t know,” Nico said through heavy breaths, the pain from the creatures claws was overpowering as it seemed to seep throughout his whole body.

“Your arm,” Wills face was pale as he gaped at the wound.

“How did that thing get into camp?” Connor asked as he stared at the large gash along the dirt.

“It shouldn’t have been able to get through the boundaries,” Chiara said.

Suddenly a lot of suspicious eyes were on Nico, again.

Will seemed to notice as he snapped towards the small group of campers gathered around them, “You can’t be serious!”

“Will we’re not saying anything it’s just…” Dana seemed reluctant to continue.

“Who else could conjure up something like that?” An Ares camper called out, Sherman quickly turned glaring towards the person who’d spoken.

“Give me one good reason why Nico would do that!” Jason yelled, and as he did the air seemed to turn electric.

The campers went silent, they all seemed to have a thought on their mind yet no one spoke it aloud.

“I get it..” Nico said cutting through the silence, his voice like a knife. “I’ll figure this out myself.”

He stepped backwards into the shadow behind him, the last thing he saw was Will eyes widening as he called out, “Wait Nico!”

Nico didn’t wait, he disappeared into the shadows, but not before Leo could manage to latch onto his arm, following him into the shadows.

As the world faded to black he heard a sharp sickeningly familiar voice in his head, Strike one little demigod.

—

Leo wasn’t sure if following Nico was incredibly smart or incredibly stupid, but with his track record it was probably the latter. His body had reacted before he’d thought about his decision though, and he was quickly pulled into the shadows. As he entered the darkness he was hit by a sense of cold from every direction, it was as if he were surrounded by nothing. He’d forgotten what shadow travel felt like, and he’d forgotten how much it sucked.

He was never more glad to see the sun when they stumbled out of the dark. They were in some park, with a vast assortment of trees spread throughout the grass. The air was warm and fresh, providing a comforting breeze as the sun shined above them.

“Valdez i’m going to-“ Nico began to say something in his usual angry tone before he doubled over onto the ground. The grass around him withered and black smoke seemed to trail off of him.

“Nico are you-“

“Shut up.” Nico cut him off, speaking through gritted teeth. Leo felt guilty, just standing there, but after a moment Nico managed to steady himself.

“Dude are you okay?” Leo asked, unable to convey the pure amount of worry he felt.

“It’s fine.” Nico took a shaky breath, struggling to stand.

Leo wanted to reach out and help him, but he had a feeling it would not of been appreciated. “That didn’t look fine.”

Nico eyes snapped towards him, “Why did you follow me?”

“Because I wasn’t going to let you run away all on your own like an idiot?”

“Who said I was running away?” Nico looked at Leo like he was stupid.

“Huh?”

Nico sighed, wiping the dirt off his hands, “I was going to try and find what’s been causing all of this. If I can find it and stop it then this whole mess will be over.”

Leo gaped at him for a moment, he felt a rush of sadness and then anger, “You thought you could just go out all on your own? By yourself?”

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, this is my mess.”

“First of all,” Leo felt himself heating up, literally as the tips of his hair began to smoke. “You can’t just try and solve everything on your own like that, you could get hurt, or maybe worse..secondly, how is this your mess?”

Nico paused, a hesitant look passed over his face. “Because I think I know who’s doing this.” He paused before speaking again as Leo waited for him to continue, “Nyx.”

“Nyx as in Night? Why would Night be specifically attacking you?”

“I guess I hurt her pride back in tartarus,” Nico said. Leo thought about how casually he’d said that, like that fact he’d been there twice was no big deal. “Or..”

“Or?” Leo couldn’t imagine how it could get worse.

“She’s trying to rise. I mean after Gaea rising and the Giants attacking, there must of been a lot of time for her to gather her power. She’s a goddess after all, she might be trying to rise like Kronos did.”

“Great, that’s amazing.” Leo sighed, there it went, getting worse. Unsurprisingly, they couldn’t go more than a year without something very bad happening. “So she’s coming after you first, for what, a grudge?”

“That..or it’s because i’m the only one who can really stop her, if she gets rid of me first she has a better chance of taking down camp.”

“So you go out to try and face her, on your own?” Leo felt his patience running thin, “Isn’t that exactly what she’d want?”

“I wanted to stop her, before she could hurt anyone else.” Nico looked down, he wouldn’t meet Leo’s eyes anymore, his focus now on the withered grass.

Leo felt a tinge of guilt as his anger dissipated, “You don’t have to do everything by yourself you know that? This Nyx lady, she loves darkness?” Leo’s hands sparked into flames, “Then i’ll show her some real light.”

A hint of a smile creeped onto Nico’s face, “I’m not convincing you to let me do this on my own am I?”

“Nope!” Leo’s flames turned to smoke as he reached into his tool belt, pulling out some bandages. “Now let’s get you all fixed up before we put ourselves in any further danger.”

Nico rolled his eyes, looking at the deep gashes along his arm. Something about the cuts was abnormal, yet Leo couldn’t figure it out. It was yet another moment where he realized that he could fix any machine, but when it came to humans he was seriously lacking. Again, he wished he was a doctor like Will or something, magic healing powers would be great right about now. Even ambrosia would’ve been nice, but of course the most he could give was papery bandages and some screws and bolts.

He did an extremely poor clean up job on the wound before stopping to ask, “Maine is a pretty big state, where to first?”

A dark shadow seemed to pass over Nico’s face as he met Leo’s eyes, “Westover. Me and Bianca’s last school.”

(Part Four)

75 notes · View notes

mamabearcatfanfics · 21 days

Text

Cairo Prison - InuKag

Sometimes, I write things just for myself, as a little treat. I might write my other favourite scenes here and there. Who knows, eventually I might have enough to string together a whole plot line. But lookie here @elkonigin and @coquinespike - have a little InuKag scene from The Mummy on me. If I ever find where I've put my laptop pen, there may even be some art to go with this.

Kagome swept across the courtyard, her anger making her simmer even hotter under the midday sun. She wasn’t sure who she was more annoyed at – the squat prison Warden for the obviously lecherous looks he was giving her, or Miroku, for lying about where he got the puzzle box. She shivered a little as they passed the gallows, not wanting to think too much about what usually took place here. When the Warden paused for a moment to speak to one of the guards, she rounded on Miroku, her voice a hissing whisper.

“I can’t believe you Miroku! You said that you found that box at a dig in Thebes! And now I find out you stole it from a drunk at the local Casbah! You told me a barefaced lie!”

Miroku looked a little chastened, but then fought back with a winning smile, hooking his arm into hers as they continued across the courtyard.

“That’s a bit harsh, Kagome dear”, he said, patting her hand affectionately. “We were playing cards, a gentleman’s game. I would have won it fair and square if he hadn’t got himself into an altercation. He left it unattended in his pocket. What was I going to do, leave it behind? He probably didn’t even know what it was.”

“You. Lied. To. Me.” Kagome hissed.

“What’s a little white lie between family members, ey?” He tried a winsome smile, which faltered quickly under Kagome’s withering gaze. “I mean, you’re not the only one I lie to old mum. But at least the lies I tell you are pretty ones.”

“That makes it worse! I’m your sister Miroku! Whatever happened to us against the world, together through thick and thin!”

Miroku looked taken aback, even slightly hurt.

“I’m deeply offended. Didn’t I come straight to you with the box? I could have just sold it, but I knew it was something special. And I knew you would be smart enough to recognise that. We both know you’re the one with the brains in this family Kagome dear.” Glancing nervously around, he tugged on her arm, trying to turn her back towards the way they’d just come. “And anyway, I don’t think this is the best place for a lady, so how about we just pop back to-”

Kagome glared at him furiously as he tried to make a run for the door, wrapping her hand around his bicep tightly so he couldn’t get away.

“Stop trying to get out of this Miroku. You can’t sweet talk your way out of this one. Oh, I am absolutely livid! Not only have we lost the most important part of the map, but we have to come here, to this place. You are going to stay here with me and see this through!”

She shuddered a little self-consciously. There were quite a few leering eyes directed towards her, and not all of them were owned by prisoners safely behind bars. Miroku patted her hand again, obviously trying to soothe her, and Kagome straightened her spine.

They’d been through plenty of scrapes together, her and Miroku. They only had each other since their parents died, social outcasts amongst the English elite due to their mother’s Egyptian heritage. She’d barely got Miroku back in one piece after the war, one of his hands shattered by a bullet directly through his palm. She knew it still hurt him, even though he never complained. He’d always been devil may care, even before he was conscripted, but since his return it was like he invited trouble. She was constantly worried about him. This was a chance to find the legendary Hamunaptra together, and there was no way she was going to back down, even if she was more than a little out of her comfort zone here.

Warden Mukotsu came back, his eyes running over her lasciviously, and Kagome lifted her chin in defiance, staring back at him with spirit. She pulled her elbow away from his grasping stubby fingers as he ushered both her and Miroku over to the rusted iron bars surrounding a holding pen. The locked metal door behind it probably led to somewhere unspeakable.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Wasn’t this what she had always wanted? A chance to show that she was not only a scholar, but able to go toe to toe with all the pompous, overstuffed Egyptologists? A chance to put all her knowledge to good use? She could do this.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to make her voice as unaffected as she needed it to be, she turned her attention away from the locked metal door to Warden Mukotsu.

“So, what is this man in prison for?” she asked, attempting an imperious tone. She hoped it wasn’t something horrible, like rape or murder.

The warden preened under her gaze, and she turned her eyes forward again, not wanting to encourage him one iota. He was giving her the creeps. Besides, there was some kind of ruckus going on behind the closed door, yelling, swearing, chains rattling. What on earth was going on back there? Miroku was looking more and more like he was going to bolt, and she pinched his arm viciously to keep him beside her, gratified when he yelped like a little girl.

The warden chuckled, his dark eyes squinting in the hot, midday sun.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting lady, but he’s not human.” He spat derisively on the ground, and Kagome grimaced, tucking the toes of her boots safely back under her long skirt. “He’s a dirty half djinn, with the ears of a jackal. His words cannot be trusted. But I did ask him.”

“And what did he say?” Kagome asked, unsure if she actually wanted the answer to that question. What on earth had Miroku gotten them into this time?

The warden leered at her, before leaving momentarily to handle a disturbance on the other side of the courtyard.

“He said, he was just looking for a good time.”

The metal door burst open with a clang. Four guards dragged a prisoner forwards, their arms and legs wrapped in chains. Despite the handicap, he seemed to be fighting them every step of the way.

His shirt and pants were ragged, his grey, hip length hair matted and oily, hanging in clumped tendrils around his face. Both her and Miroku took a step backwards at the absolute stench that surrounded him. One of the guards walloped him on the head with a truncheon, hard enough for them to hear a solid thump as it connected. Kagome winced in sympathy as it smacked one of his canine ears, blood trickling onto his scalp, and he snarled loudly, baring some very obvious fangs. Another guard beat him again, and the other two kicked him in the back of the knees, forcing him to kneel in front Miroku and Kagome. He grasped the bars in front of him as best he could with his shackled wrists, teeth still bared in anger, amber eyes full of rage.

“This is the person you took the box from?!” Kagome squeaked in surprise, shuffling backwards a tiny step. She’d never seen anyone like him before, and the scholar in her was already wanting to know more. Why did he have dogs ears and fangs? He had slitted pupils like a cat – could he see things human eyes couldn’t? Where had he come from? Did he speak English or Arabic? Or some other language she had no knowledge of?

“Shush, not so loud,” muttered Miroku from the corner of his mouth, turning his face away from the prisoner kneeling in front of them.

“Who are you?” the prisoner demanded, looking Miroku up and down, then turning his eyes almost immediately towards Kagome, as if he’d judged Miroku’s worth and found him lacking. “Who’s the wench?”

“Wench!?” Kagome sputtered, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. The sudden smirk on the prisoners face, and the accompanying glint in his inhuman amber eyes, made her want to slap him. She’d been feeling a little sorry for him after witnessing his treatment at the hands of the guards a moment before, but now she was seething.

“Ah, hello my good man,” smiled Miroku, pushing Kagome a little behind himself. “I’m just a humble local missionary, visiting the prison to save the souls of unfortunates such as yourself…” He faltered a little as he watched the prisoner ignore him, picking at his teeth with the very pointed, and probably very sharp, claw on his little finger. He dragged a reluctant Kagome forward. “And this here is my younger sister, Kagome.”

“How do you do?” said Kagome, attempting a cordial tone, then stiffening as the prisoner looked her up and down.

“Tch. Well, I guess she’s not a total loss.” He turned his head away.

“Excuse me!” said Kagome, tapping her foot at a rapid pace on the dirt, in an attempt to mitigate the burst of anger that was beginning to rise at this man’s attitude. “Excuse me, Mr…”

“Inuyasha. Just Inuyasha.”

Kagome nodded, and tried her best to smile winningly at him. “Inuyasha then.” She made the tone of her voice as warm as possible, speaking slowly and carefully, her expression coy. “You see, my brother and I found a puzzle box that we believe you might be able to help us with.”

“Bullshit.”

“I beg your pardon!?” she exclaimed. Both Miroku and Inuyasha winced at her loud and high pitched tone of indignation.

“I smell bullshit,” Inuyasha repeated gruffly. “We both know you didn’t come here to dirty your pretty little shoes in this hellhole to ask me about some box, lady. You and this stuffed shirt came here to ask me about Hamunaptra, am I right?”

Both Kagome and Miroku’s eyes widened in surprise. They both looked around nervously, hoping the guards hadn’t heard anything, and moved a little closer to the bars.

“How do you know the box has anything to do with Hamunaptra?” asked Kagome, barely able to keep the excitement out of her voice. Now they were getting somewhere!

“Because that’s where I found it.”

Miroku leaned forward, his voice a little suspicious.

“How can we believe anything someone like you would say?”

“Wait, do I know you?”

Miroku gave a nervous chuckle.

“Oh no, I don’t believe- “

Inuyasha’s nose twitched slightly, and then his eyes widened in recognition. He glowered at Miroku.

“You!”

Before Miroku could even think about taking a step backwards, Inuyasha’s fist shot forwards, catching Miroku on the chin. Even hampered as Inuyasha was by the chains, as soon as the blow connected, Miroku was laid out cold. One of the guards whacked his already bleeding ear again, hard, forcing his forehead to bounce off the metal bars in front of him.

“Hey, watch it, fucker!”

Kagome looked down at Miroku, laying prone at her feet, then delicately raised her skirt a little as she stepped over him to get closer to the bars, her eyes full of excitement.

“You were actually at Hamunaptra?” she asked, her voice full of wonder. Inuyasha stared at her in amazement.

“Don’t you care that I just decked your brother?”

She waved a placating hand at him.

“Oh, he’s had worse, I’m sure he’ll be fine in a moment. But Hamunaptra! You were actually there?!”

She watched as Inuyasha’s amazement changed into a lazy grin.

“Yeah wench, I was there.”

She was so excited that she hardly noticed what he called her.

“You were there? Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it!” Her eyes narrowed a little in suspicion, and she moved even closer. “Do you swear?”

The lazy grin grew wider, a pointed fang lowering over his cracked lower lip.

“Every damn day.”

Kagome scoffed.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

The grin was still there, then it dropped away from his face.

“I know what you meant. But I was there alright. Seti's place. The City of The Dead.”

Kagome could hardly contain her excitement.

“What did you see there?”

“A lot of sand.” He almost shuddered. “And a lot of death.”

But Kagome would not be put off now. Not when she was so close. She could see the warden coming back, and she just had to get this information. She leaned closer to him, taking off her hat to guard their conversation.

“Inuyasha,” she whispered, her tone determined. “Could you tell me how to get there?”

He looked at her, and blinked slowly, his expression nonplussed.

“The exact location,” she wheedled, eyes shining with excitement, “pretty please?”

“You really wanna know?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“You really, really wanna know?”

“Yes, yes, more than anything!” she said, almost bursting with nervous excitement.

He beckoned her closer, gesturing with one pointed finger.

“C’mere then.”

She was now almost nose to nose with him, ears straining, eyes wide, ready to commit anything he might say to memory so she could write it down as soon as a pen and paper were handy. If only she’d bought one of her notebooks with her! But before she knew it, one of Inuyasha’s hands shot out, not to punch her as he had Miroku, but grab her chin firmly. And then his chapped lips were planted firmly against hers.

Before she had a chance to register anything more than shocked astonishment at receiving her very first kiss in such a manner, the lips were dragged away.

“You wanna know so bad? Then get me the fuck outta here lady!”

She watched as all four guards rained blows down on his head, dragging him backwards. She heard the warden laughing maliciously behind her.

“Wait, wait, I’m not done talking to him yet! Where are they taking him?”

“To be hanged.”

“Why?” Kagome gasped, her shock at this sudden turn of events evident. She grimaced at the wide grin Warden Mukotsu gave her.

“Apparently, he had a very good time.”

Kagome hurried after Mukotsu, almost tripping over Miroku as she strove to keep with the warden.

They climbed a set of stairs to a balcony overlooking the whole courtyard, Mukotsu sitting down to watch the show, while Kagome hovered anxiously, fingers tapping nervously on the balcony railing. She watched as Inuyasha was dragged up the stairs to the gallows. Other prisoners hollered and jeered as the noose was roughly forced over his head, then cinched tightly around his throat. He made direct eye contact with her, his expression stoic. What could she do? Suddenly she had a brain wave, turning to address the warden.

“What if I offered you one hundred pounds to secure his release?”

The warden shrugged, noisily snacking on a plate of dates on a small table at his side. Juice and spittle ran down his chin as he answered.

“I would pay one hundred to see him hang,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the gallows below.

“Two hundred pounds, then,” she bargained, eyes darting back and forth between Inuyasha and the warden, who ignored her totally. He stood for a moment, bellowing down to the guards below.

“Proceed!”

“Three hundred pounds!” Kagome said desperately. She could tell Inuyasha could hear their conversation even over the dreadful noise of the screaming prisoners, his ears twitched in their direction. She looked back towards him and saw him nod at her, as if to say, keep it going. The yelling suddenly grew quiet as the hangman addressed Inuyasha.

“Any last requests, dog?” he sneered, spitting on the trapdoor near Inuyasha’s feet.

Inuyasha pretended to look thoughtful for a moment, then spat his reply.

“Yeah, I'd like ya to let me go.”

The Hangman grabbed the lever to the trapdoor with a leering grin.

“FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS!” yelled Kagome, sitting down on the seat next to the Warden, her eyes pleading, then recoiled as he set his greasy, lecherous hand high on her thigh, fingers grabbing hard enough to bruise.

“Anything additional to offer?”

Before she could think, Kagome slapped his hand in revulsion, then gasped as Warden Mukotsu angrily turned and gestured to the Hangman. The trapdoor dropped away with loud bang.

“Oh no!”

She watched, horrified as Inuyasha dropped through the hole, his body jerking as the rope pulled taut. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. His legs kicked wildly, then stopped, and for a moment, she thought all was lost. The rope spun him lazily around to face her again, and she realised he was still alive.

“Ha! His neck did not break! Good! Now we watch him strangle to death,” jeered the Mukotsu, stuffing another date into his mouth.

Angry chanting began amongst the prisoners, and the guards shouldered their guns nervously. Kagome could see Miroku climbing the steps, staggering a little, but she didn’t have time to help him right now. Not when a man’s life and finding Hamunaptra was at stake. She leaned towards the Warden.

“He knows the location to Hamunaptra”, she whispered urgently.

Warden Mukotsu’s head jerked toward her, his expression incredulous.

“You lie.”

“I would never!”

She glanced back towards the gallows. At the end of the rope, Inuyasha was making horrible choking and gagging sounds, his face a grotesquely mottled shade of red. She had to hurry!

The Warden eyed her suspiciously, wiping date juice off the corner of his mouth with a dirty sleeve.

“Are you saying this filthy godless son of a dog knows where to find The City of The Dead? Truly?”

“Yes, and if you cut him down, we will give you ten percent,” she said quickly, hoping that this would work. Inuyasha didn’t look like he had much time left.

“Fifty percent.”

She hesitated a moment, glancing back to Inuyasha, and watched his eyes widen at her incredulously at her bargaining. She quickly turned her eyes back to the Warden.

“Twenty.”

“Forty.”

Kagome hesitated again, biting her lip. Inuyasha’s eyes were looking up at her, almost bulging out of his head, like he couldn’t believe her.

“Give .... give him .... give him,” he coughed.

Under pressure, Kagome shrieked, “Twenty-five percent, and not one single farthing more!”

The Warden leered at her, then yelled down to the hangman. The sunlight bounced off the scimitar in his hands as he swung, cutting the rope, sending Inuyasha plummeting to the ground. His bound hands scrabbled in the dirt as he fought to get himself onto his knees, coughing and wheezing, taking deep breaths. His bloodshot eyes looked up towards the balcony.

Miroku finally made it up the stairs, leaning against the railing with a groan.

“So, how’d we do old mum? Did we win?” he asked, looking with some distaste at the leering grin of the Warden, then down into the courtyard at Inuyasha, who was still on his knees.

Kagome smiled broadly, and waved down at Inuyasha, who glowered at her.

“Yes Miroku, I do believe this visit was a success,” she said, excitement bubbling up. They were going to Hamunaptra!

“Jolly good show,” replied Miroku, gently fingering the darkening bruise on his chin.

#mamabearcat fanfics #inukag fanfic #the mummy au #this was so much fun to write!#need to get back to writing the next chapter of PUP but I'd love to do some more for The Mummy #I just love that movie so much!

46 notes · View notes

toska-writes · 10 months

Text

This is from an anon which I loved! It was just a tad too long to add here!

“Dog Days”

Read here on Ao3 (✩)

Summary: for the first time in a long long time your feeling under the weather- it works out well though that you have 6 people that will make you feel much better

Pairing: The bad batch x GN padawan reader (Platonic with every member of the batch)

Warning: Needles only in one spot Mentions of being sick/ throw up- nothing that graphic really

Word count: 1627

Notes: This ask was so well written and honestly I couldn’t stop thinking about it! (Be ready for a bunch of Cody stories coming up- I have many asks for him)

“It would be wise if you both weren’t so close to them.” Tech walked into the room again scrolling through his data pad quickly. “It’s unprovable but you both could still become ill yourselves.”

You felt Crosshair shift under you for a moment and then put a hand carefully on your shoulder. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Me too!” Omega chimed in as snuggled closer into your side.

Tech sighed for a moment before walking over to the trio and placed a hand to your forehead.

“I’ve spent all morning trying to figure something out to contradict the illness, nothing so far.”

Crosshair glared at his older brother for a moment. “While your doing that why don’t you keep it down.” The words barely scraped pass his teeth. “I was hoping that they’d be falling asleep.”

“Don’t worry Cross I don’t think I could go to sleep at all.” Your groggy voice sounded muffled as you dug your throbbing face closer into Crosshair.

To be honest you haven’t been able to sleep all night to this morning. Stomach pains and throwing up have made sure of that.

Not braking eye contact with whatever he was reading Tech got up and started to walk to the cockpit before he looked over his shoulder.

“Omega Hunter is looking for you.”

“Awe.” Displeased she started to get up and out of the bunk you all were laying in. “But I want to stay and make sure they’re alright.”

“Believe me Omega I’m not going anywhere.” You spoke between coughs as you felt her get up and walk out the darkened room with Tech.

Crosshair returned the blanket over your shoulders and slid down the wall he was currently leaning back on.

Moments or hours could have passed, you couldn’t tell as your eyes tried to flutter shut but was interrupted by various things.

You didn’t hear when Echo entered the room or even when he crouched near the edge of the bunk.

“Hey Y/N.” Your eyes snapped to him for a second realizing he was with you too. “I brought you some soup that hopefully you’ll be able to keep down.”

You went to sit up for a moment and felt Echo help you up so you still leaned against Crosshair. Looking back at him you saw his head bob down and soft snores were coming from Crosshair’s mouth.

“Thanks Echo.” You whispered as you rubbed your eyes.

“Of course, you know this meal always use to make me feel better whenever I was under the weather.”

You smiled to yourself slightly as Echo came and sat next to you on the bunk; soup in his hand. “Fives sounds like a great guy.” Without knowing your head swayed slightly down and rested onto Echos cold shoulder.

“He is.” Was all he responded before bringing a spoon to your mouth. “Of course I’m no cook but you couldn’t possibly mess up this recipe.”

The soup danced happily on your tastebuds, the flavor was comforting enough where you didn’t have to worry about it staying in your stomach for a short period of time.

“Wow that is really good.” You whispered again, of course not being able to have real food in a matter of a few days made you a little biased but it was delicious nonetheless.

The bowl was emptied in a matter of minutes, you were unbelievably grateful for Fives’ amazing feel better soup.

“Here let me get Crosshair up so you could try and get some rest.” Echo spoke softly as he quietly got up from his spot.

“Let him sleep a little more at least.” Your hand shook as you reached out for Echo. The night before neither of you got a wink of sleep, Crosshair would doubt it if asked, but his eyes burned this morning from staying awake all night just in case anything happened. It eased you last night knowing he was there.

You could make out Echo nodding before exiting the room again, light barley flooded in as you saw a much bigger silhouette walk into the room.

“Aye there kid.” Wrecker wasn’t the best a whispering. Crosshair shifted slightly against you as you tried to lay you both down so Cross wouldn’t have to sleep sitting up.

Wrecker patted your head for a moment when you got situated then added. “You know I just thought Lula could help ya feel better.”

You could only smile to yourself despite how you felt as the soft material made its way into your arms. “It’s a bummer being sick but Lula was always there for me so I thought-“

“Thank you Wreck, I feel better already.” Brining Lula tightly in your arms and under your chin you could make out the smile of Wrecker.

“Sleep well with her.” Wrecked fixed your blanket as well and tried his best to walk quietly out of the room.

Crosshair moved around once again and brought an arm over your torso. “He’s so unbelievably loud.” He murmured slightly, the words still laced with sleep.”

You rolled yours eyes slightly burying your head into the pillow bellow you. “Mmm.” You replied slightly as you were racked with coughs. However this time you could finally close your eyes to sleep.

Sweat soaked your body as you quickly sat up to the displeasure of the headache that pierced your skull. You didn’t know how long you were asleep or if your were in the same bunk as before.

“Woah woah kids it’s ok.” You looked around for a moment as your eyes landed on Hunter, his hands placed on your heaving shoulders. “I just came to check up on you, good timing I guess.”

Leaning forward slightly you crashed into the shoulder of the sergeant that was kneeled in front of you. “It’s gross in here, I don’t wanna get Cross sick.”

“I gotcha I gotcha.” One hand rubbed over your back beige scooping you into his arms. Before you felt the bed leave from under you you quickly grabbed hold of Lula and brought her close to you.

The lights of the marauder were quite bright compared to where you were laying all day, however the sun had already set behind the widow as you were brought into the cockpit.

Hunter left your side for a moment then returned seconds later as you felt a cool cloth pressed to your forehead.

As you adjusted your eyes met the worried ones of Hunter. The sweat from the fever poured down your face but the cloth helped enough to put you at ease.

“Sorry Hunter.” You could see the discomfort along the fine features of his face as he tried to mask them.

“What are you talking about kid? You got nothing to worry about.” You knew he was lying, his senses were probably flaring up with the sickness you had. It made sense why you didn’t see him for a portion of the morning.

Omega was at his side along with Tech holding some sort of medical equipment.

“Feeling better Y/N.” The curious girl asked parking herself at your side yet again. If you were at 100 percent you would be able to practically feel the worry pouring off of her, but your senses were dulled.

“Yeah Omega I am.” You answered before looking at Tech. He patted Hunter on the shoulder as Tech motions to the control panel.

“This should help you to feel better in no time.” Tech said matter-of-factly. “However it does come in the only form of a shot.”

At this point you’d do anything to get over this feeling. You slightly nodded your head as Omega grabbed onto your hand. She could understand and knew why you didn’t like needles and she made sure you were comforted as Tech quickly stuck it into you shoulder.

“I would suggest more rest for you now until tomorrow morning when we’ll have to give you another injection.” Tech helped you up slightly.

“Why don’t you stay in my room?” Omega perked up taking your other arm around her shoulder.

Both you and Tech nodded as you made your way to the little nook that was transformed into a room just for the girl.

Omega pilled blankets upon blankets onto your shivering form but also made sure to drape the cold cloth on your forehead.

“Is that alright?” She asked coming to lay down beside you.

“Perfect Omega you’ve done so much for me.” You stomach made you curl up on yourself and into the small girls frame.

Omega looked you over worried for a moment before pushing some hair away from your face.

“Hey how about a story to help pass the time hm?” She asked now burrowing into the blankets next to you.

The comforting voice of the girl you considered now a little sister spoke calmly retelling many exciting stories from her time on Kamino. A few made you laugh as your eyes got heavier and heavier as minutes passed by.

“And then you wouldn’t believe it he-“ Omega trailed off slightly looking down to the sleeping form curled up close to her. The rise and fall of your chest was even for now and she couldn’t help the smiled that leaked onto her face.

In the deep depths of sleep your brow eased slightly as the pain no longer bothered you when you weren’t conscious. One last time she tucked a piece of your hair back slightly before taking your lead and closing her eyes as well, knowing at least for now you were alright.

_____________________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook

#star wars #the clone boys #clone wars #the bad batch #star wars tbb #tbb x reader #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #echo x reader #omega x reader #star wars x platonic!reader #reader insert

224 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 5 months

Text

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

There was magic in the air. Gwyn could all but taste it as Azriel laid her out on the bed. The reverence to his touch gave her pause—did he treat all females this way? She didn’t need to ask to know the answer to that question.

No.

This was different, somehow. Different in a way she didn’t dare contemplate lest she change her mind. Gwyn wanted him so badly it was making her hands shake, was clouding her vision. Her thoughts beat in time with her heart, a constant refrain of his name, his eyes, his scent.

This was a different sort of challenge, their familiar dynamic settling between them. Straddling her waist, Azriel looked down at her with dark, heavy lidded eyes that betrayed his own desire. Gwyn felt powerful, right then. He would have done anything she asked. Anything…except…maybe…

Azriel lowered his mouth to kiss her. “Stop,” she breathed, pressing a hand to his chest.

A flurry of movement happened so abruptly, so quickly that Gwyn couldn’t keep up with it. One moment the pleasant weight of Azriel’s form was pressing her to the mattress and the next the overhead chandelier was rattling as he pressed himself against the far wall, eyes wild.

“I—” he tried, voice strangled. The tendons in his neck were stark, betraying the effort in which he was keeping himself away from her. Why, she wondered, was it so difficult? Gwyn propped herself up on her elbows, refusing to feel an ounce of guilt for his discomfort.

“I just needed to know you would,” she told him, holding his gaze. “Please come back.”

“Anything,” he breathed, his wings relaxing around him. “I’ll do anything you say.”

Again, the question why tried to force itself out of her throat. Gwyn didn’t dare ask it. She wouldn’t ask. Swallowing the word, Gwyn reached for his shoulders to the moment his knee hit the mattress, pulling him back atop her for a messy, almost mean kiss. It wasn’t him she was trying to punish, but herself. She knew better—she ought to stop this, stop him and she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Didn’t she deserve one good thing?

No.

Gwyn pushed that thought aside, too. She wanted him and maybe, if she forced herself to believe she was good enough for him, that she deserved him, it would be true. She could forget everything else easily enough—Azriel’s hand cupped her cheek, callused skin scraping over the softness of her face as his teeth tugged gently at her bottom lip.

Open, she swore she heard him say. And she did, parting so he could taste her with a heady, deep groan that reverberated against her very bones. She wouldn’t survive him and she knew it. Maybe she didn’t want to, either. She could hold on to this forever, she decided. Come whatever may afterward, she’d always have this moment.

Even if they went back to their separate lives in Velaris…though, Gwyn suspected he wouldn’t.

Stop worrying about the future, she screamed at herself. Think about Azriel.

That was easy enough. Azriel certainly was doing an effortless job pulling her focus back to him. Who had taught him to kiss like that, she wondered idly, her fingers carding through thick, soft hair?

She’d half expected him to pull her clothes apart and have her with little preamble or further attention. Afterall, she was offering herself to him—why not just take her? Gwyn could admit her perception was skewed from the past and though she wasn’t thinking of that night, she couldn’t erase the knowledge from her mind, either. She understood the mechanics well enough.

And yet Azriel seemed more than content to kiss her, even when he reached for one of the legs she’d hooked around his waist, pulling it higher so he could grind himself against her.

“I want to know what you like,” he whispered, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“I like you,” she replied without thinking. Careful—she’d nearly told him the full truth of the matter. It wasn’t that she liked him, but that she loved him and that was where the danger lay.

“One day I won’t have to ask,” Azriel growled, hands skimming down her sides. “You’ll push me to the bed—you’ll tie me up.”

“Is this a confession, shadowsinger?’ she teased, sliding her hand up the hard plating of his armor. “Do you want to be tied up?”

“Yes,” he replied, rearing up on his knees to reach for the clasps of his clothing. “I want you to ride my face.”

Oh. Gwyn was certain her face was tomato red given the sly smile that spread across Azriel’s handsome face.

“You ah…probably don’t need to be tied up for that,” she managed as the armor thudded loudly to the ground. Stretching out his neck, Azriel’s smile became an almost feral grin.

“Is that so?”

“That’s not…” Azriel rolled his hips against Gwyn, pressing his erection between her thighs and the friction was enough to silence whatever protests she’d intended to offer. Dark hazel eyes watched, framed by a thick fringe of lashes. Gwyn leaned up, nails digging in muscular shoulders to pull him back against her.

“Shut up,” she spoke into his mouth. Gwyn could taste his smile, his pleasure more than just the arousal she knew he felt. How strange to realize that their friendship was making consummating their feelings all the better. Never once had Gwyn considered that genuinely liking him would make sex better.

And yet it was. She relaxed against him, hips rising to meet his own until they were both frantic and desperate, half dressed and yet unable to pull their mouths apart long enough to finish undressing. It was bliss—for once, Gwyn’s mind was utterly silent. All she knew was the male atop her, the taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the feel of his hands against her own.

Which made it all the more confusing when her dress was over her head and Azriel was tugging, trying to get her to lift her arms so he could toss it to the floor. When had he undone the buttons? Gwyn tried to remember and found the only thing that registered was when she’d told him to shut up. It was strange to be utterly naked before him, her underthings removed with frantic haste, his fingers all but trembling as they pulled at the laces. Hovering over her, Azriel merely stared as though it was the first time he’d ever truly looked at her.

“Gods,” he breathed, curling his fingers toward his bare chest. “You’re so beautiful. Do you know that?”

Gwyn didn’t know what to say to him, had no idea how to answer that question. Was she? Not any more beautiful than any other female, surely. He was so old, so experienced…it felt almost silly to argue with him. And yet…and yet Gwyn felt a protest rising in her throat, the discomfort of Azriel seeing her so clearly and still finding her beautiful. He could see all the jagged edges she’d pieced back together, knew how they didn’t quite fit the way they once had.

Unaware of her thoughts, Azriel reached for her face as he lowered his own, pressing his forehead against hers so their noses brushed. “Tell me you feel the same way I do.” She knew, right then, what that feeling was. Felt it between them, a cord so taught it robbed her of her ability to speak. Stronger than a ribbon, brighter than shadow.

Oh.

It was lucky her brain was too focused on what was happening between his legs to really put together what was happening everywhere else. She might have bolted, gone straight back to Prythian, back to the library, back to life before she knew Nesta and Emerie and Cassian…and Azriel.

She kissed him, instead. Better to know, she supposed—at least one of them should. And she didn’t need to tell him, right? Azriel didn’t need to know. Not yet, not ever, maybe. She could keep it a secret.

She would keep it a secret. Just until she knew what to do about this newfound knowledge, until she’d studied it and understood what, exactly, was happening. Until she’d found the mother personally, blade in hand, for a fight because how dare she. How dare the mother give Gwyn a mate.

Her kissing was too aggressive, too hungry as she turned this realization over and over in her head. It made sense—too much sense, pieced together the questions she’d had ever since she’d gotten closer to Azriel.

Azriel, at least, seemed blissfully unaware. That was for the best—he would know what a mating bond meant, would understand the gravity of the situation and Gwyn suspected their careful, soft romance would crumble under the weight of needing to accept it. She’d never know if why they had was real, or merely the mating bond pulling them together.

And she wanted more than just a bond.

Mated males were aggressive and territorial according to what she did know. And she was currently in a place where she had no say in whether she accepted the bond or not. Would it override his good sense?

Yes.

His good sense was already gone, his control so taut she was a little excited to see it snap entirely, if only to know that she had been the cause of it.

“Gwyn,” he breathed, her name a symphony on his lips. It was easy to shove everything else aside—those were problems for regular Gwyn to deal with. This was special Gwyn—the female who had his undivided attention and was the focus of his lurid fantasies.

If she’d been braver, she would have done as he’d asked earlier and climbed on his face. She felt shy, nervous even, at the thought of asking him anything or offering up any piece of herself. What if he found he didn’t like it? What if he made comparisons, realized just how inexperienced she was?

Things had changed. She was his mate, even if he didn’t know it, and the thought of him rejecting her was a vice around her throat, choking the words from her. Let him do what he wanted. Let him have her however he wanted.

Azriel always wanted the same thing, anyway. It was a safe bet to give him free reign with her body because all Azriel seemed to think about was putting his face between her legs until she was a writhing, wrung out mess. Part of her had wondered if he still would—hoped he might, and had expected him not to do much more than touch before pulling out his cock and taking her. Azriel acted as though he had all the time in the world. Maybe he did—maybe he’d forgotten Eris Vanserra was a looming presence and would certainly redescend upon them the first chance he got.

Trailing his tongue down her stomach, Azriel kept his eyes pinned to her face, waiting for a protest that was never going to come. Gwyn liked his mouth between her legs, like the way he made her come like this, seemingly with no concern for his own pleasure. Though, it certainly did something for him. She watched as he adjusted himself, hips pressing hard against the mattress as he spread her open.

It was a slow torment, mouth kissing one thigh, trailing higher and higher before he switched with a devilish smile as she squirmed and moved, trying to position herself exactly right but Azriel continued his teasing until she did the one thing she knew he wanted.

Gwyn begged. “Azriel,” she panted, holding his gaze as he waited, his shoulders all but trembling with whatever monumental restraint it took to keep himself from tasting her. “Please—”

That was as far as he let her go, tongue delving into her body with a rumbling, near animalistic groan. Everything melted away, leaving Gwyn once again in a world only she and Azriel occupied. She wanted to live there permanently, to stay forever in this place they’d created and the magic that shielded them.

Reaching for the strands of his hair, Gwyn raked her nails along his scalp, her sighs of pleasure loud enough to encourage him to keep going. She wasn’t going to perform for him—wasn’t going to scream and cry and whimper. If he wanted her, he would have to take her exactly as she was.

She wanted him to know exactly what he was getting into so when she was forced to deliver the news they were mates, he at least knew what the next five centuries of his life might look and feel and sound like. Maybe that was the scholar in her that couldn’t just let things be, who needed to uncover the truth even about their potential relationship before she could make an informed decision.

And she wanted him to do the same.

But more than anything, Gwyn wanted Azriel to want her the way he did right then. Wanted him to forever feel this dizzy, this desperate, this out of control. Not because some divine force compelled him to, but because it was her, and any other choice was simply unfathomable.

Another soft groan pulled Gwyn from her thoughts, her attention refocused on the male between her legs. Azriel’s hips, still clad in his leather pants, ground against the mattress in a rhythm that left her ears ringing softly. She wanted to know what that felt like, to share more than just space, but a body.

Given they already shared a soul, it seemed all that was left. Maybe there was something to be said about impatience, she decided, even as his tongue slid up and down her cunt, tasting every inch of her thoroughly. Didn’t he want to know what it felt like? Where was his sense of urgency?

She could hurry him along, she decided. Gwyn twisted the fingers in his hair, pushing him closer and Azriel groaned again, his tongue moving faster, his fingers teasing her entrance. This was what she needed, she thought, her anxiety melting into nothing more than arousal. Azriel was focused, his free hand wrapping around her waist to lift her into the air, bringing her even closer to his face. It didn’t seem as though he could breathe and perhaps he didn’t care to, no longer required anything but her to sustain himself.

He was certainly licking her as if that were the case. One finger, and then another, pushed into her body, eliciting a hiss of air from Azriel at whatever he found. Was he imagining how it might feel on his cock? Gwyn certainly hoped so because she wanted to know, too.

Gwyn wanted to replace every bad memory with a good one, wanted to know only pleasure. Just this once, she thought, the words a silent prayer and plea to the Mother above. She wouldn’t ask for anything else if she could have just one perfect moment with this male she loved.

The male who was her mate.

Gwyn rose higher and higher, gripping the sheets for purchase on reality while Azriel continued, determined to see this to the end. And when she came she fractured entirely, those pieces she’d carefully put back into place breaking once more only to reforge themselves amidst the golden light she swore shimmered between them.

Azriel cursed, pulling his fingers from her still convulsing body while she watched through heavy lids. He brought them to his lips, tasting her once again before he reached for his pants. Hesitating, Azriel asked, “Are you sure?”

If she told him no, would he fling himself across the room again? Words eluded her just this once, leaving Gwyn to nod, to reach for him even as he began unlacing his trousers. It was both seconds and an eternity before he was finally unclothed, still kneeling over her as if he expected her to change his mind.

But Gwyn wouldn’t—she couldn’t.

And she was ready.

AZRIEL:

Breathe.

That was the only thought that came to him as he lowered himself against his mate, her teals gleaming with trust he wasn’t sure was entirely deserved. After all, he was half lying to her. Hoping that by having sex with her, he could force her to feel the mating bond and keep them together in the most permanent way possible.

Truthfully, he’d hoped it would have snapped already, but he’d take what he could get. Leaning his chest against her own, Azriel kissed her to distract from what was about to happen. He’d vowed to make it as painless as possible no matter how badly the mating urge in his chest snarled to just take her. There would be time for it—one day when she was used to him, when she trusted him.

When he’d let her tie him up and have utter control, she’d let him have a little, too. Let him be messy, rough—even mean, he hoped. Today, though, was building on the trust he hoped he’d been laying since they’d first met.

Do you trust me not to hurt you? Do you trust that I love you? That I would ruin this world if you asked me to?

Because he would have done far more terrible things than simply line the head of his cock up with her cunt. Azriel would have destroyed all Rhys’s careful alliances with the continents, with the seasonal courts and even the solar courts too, if Gwyn felt even momentarily insulted. He’d turn his back on his friends, his home, his life before her.

He’d pull out his sword and carve bloody vengeance through her enemies simply to see her smile and gods the mere thought of doing so made him smile. Gwyn didn’t notice, was unaware of the vicious fantasies weaving their way through his mind as she dug her nails into his shoulders. That was, perhaps, for the best.

She was too kind—she’d never ask him for any of the things he wanted to do. And maybe, he considered, she didn’t have to. Or shouldn’t, at least. The years she’d spent suffering surely warranted a little violence on her behalf? Azriel knew she wouldn’t be angry with him if he did, if nothing else. Exasperated, perhaps…but maybe not even that.

She’d get her own weapon bloody too. He shuddered at the thought, the image of the pair of them standing shoulder to shoulder, hands curled around unforgivably sharp blades, skin splattered in cooling blood.

Mine, you’re mine, you’re mine—

“I’ve been waiting centuries for you,” he whispered against her neck instead. Gwyn merely whimpered, lips parted for a kiss he was all too glad to give her. That was true, at least—he had been waiting, wondering, wishing. She was here, now, and Azriel wasn’t giving her up. Wasn’t sending her back into the world without him just behind, one hand resting on his sword in warning. The world had thought to be cruel to her—a mistake it would not make again.

Azriel pushed himself ever so slightly into her body, his fragile control fracturing without entirely breaking. He’d prepared himself, he reminded himself through gritted teeth. When his fingers had been in her body, he’d known exactly what he was going to encounter. And he’d sworn it would be fine—that he could handle the slowness she would require.

His mistake was thinking his fingers and his cock shared anything in common. However good it had felt to feel her come against his hand, this was infinitely better. Exquisite, even. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, arms trembling with the effort it took to hold himself over her, muscles pulled taut as he forced himself not to drive himself fully into her.

He felt her squeeze around the head of his cock, pulling a puff of air from his lungs. This was torture like he’d never imagined, heaven and hell, pain and pleasure all at once. “Gwyn,” he groaned, both prayer and plea.

“More,” she replied, her forehead resting against his chest. “I can take it.”

He didn’t think he could. Still, Azriel inched himself in further and further still, watching her for any signs of discomfort—anything that would convince him to stop, to try again another day. Even when his body screamed at him to keep going, that he would tear off his own skin if he had to leave her, Azriel held himself tight, wings tucked against his back.

It occurred to him once he was fully seated in her body, that Gwyn would never tell him if he was hurting her. He hadn’t thought of it before, had forgotten how stubborn and single-minded she could be. She’d made a decision and she’d see it through if only to satisfy her own academic curiosity.

“Tell me how you feel,” he ordered, pulling on the magic of their shared mating bond to compel her to answer. Gwyn didn’t open her eyes, though she did slide her hands up and down his bare chest.

“Good,” she whispered, squeezing herself somehow tighter. Azriel’s hips jerked of their own accord, drawing two mirrored moans of pleasure from them both. She couldn’t fake that, he decided—she wouldn’t. If she was miserable, he’d know. He’d feel it.

Azriel hesitated for only a second, hoping to see her eyes fly open with recognition, to have the satisfaction of her realization that he was her mate. There was no disappointment when she didn’t.

It was impossible to feel disappointment when he was buried inside her body, after all. Azriel thrust again as nicely as he could—which wasn’t very nice at all—deeply satisfied when she moaned again. Of course she’d like what he liked. They were matched, after all. Not that he intended to fully unleash himself on her. He had all the time in the world for that and still Azriel’s pleasure was heightened by the knowledge she was enjoying him. That she wanted him for something beyond his status and his appearance.

That she’d seen into his ugly soul and found something beautiful. Something worth loving. Azriel told himself that was enough—no one had ever cared for him like that. He could tell her the truth about himself, could let her see the things he hid from everyone else and Gwyn didn’t flinch, didn’t turn and run or wish for something better. She saw it and she liked it.

“Fuck,” he whispered, lacking the eloquence the moment demanded. Gwyn’s eyes opened, a shade of blue so dark they looked like icy pools of water—a midnight sky dotted with stars. Whatever control he had left was lost to him, slipping away on a whispering wind as though it were another of his shadows.

His next thrust was rougher, more punishing than before. Not so hard to bruise. Just enough to see that sharpness return to her gaze, her cheeks flushed with heat. She’d come once, he rationalized, and male pride demanded she come again. That he feel her pleasure wrapped around his cock.

Azriel pressed himself fully against her, bracing his body weight against his elbows so he could kiss her. Madness overtook him the moment she kissed him back, tongue tangling with his own to taste her own arousal still lingering in his throat. The feel of her lips against his own only heightened his pleasure, drawing him too high too fast. He needed her to come, too—needed to fuck her again, and again, and again.

He understood right then the danger of what he’d done. This wasn’t how he normally felt. Azriel wasn’t himself, couldn’t stop the growl that slipped when he licked down her throat nor the possessive hand on her hip. Gwyn panted, head thrown back as she drew higher, her cunt tightening around him rhythmically. She was going to come and he was going to die. Azriel knew it and couldn’t stop himself, his own thrusts erratic and desperate,

He was chanting her name like she was a goddess, he her most fervent acolyte. Perhaps he was. Gwyn came, her back arching off the bed with such force she slammed her forehead against his collarbone. The sight of her was holy—and Azriel’s awe was overshadowed only by his own pulsating desire. He came a mere second later, exhaling loudly while Gwyn’s teeth bit roughly into his shoulder to swallow whatever scream might have escaped.

It wasn’t enough. He felt sated and needy all at once. Even as he felt his own come slide between them, making a mess of the sheets, Azriel couldn’t stop his thrusting. Gwyn didn’t ask him to, nails carving a bloody path down his back before she remembered his wings.

He came that second time before her, unable to help himself when her fingers slid along the edge of his wing exactly as he’d always fantasized. He was too loud, his growl rattling the window panes.

He needed the other males to know, secrecy be damned.

If you touch her, I’ll kill you.

Brutally slow, with the efficiency of a torturer who knew what he was doing.

His only saving grace was the female beneath him—she came again, half laughing, half panting and oh. She was everything. More than just his mate, he realized, but perhaps his best friend, too. And that smile on her face, her pretty, breathless laughter, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

It was enough to slow him down, to remind him she wasn’t going anywhere. Azriel pulled her into his arms, face buried in her neck as he bit back all the things he wanted to say. And Gwyn let him, holding him just as fiercely, just as tightly.

“I’m not done with you, shadowsinger,” she whispered into his hair before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Neither was he.

#gwynriel #i hope it was worth the wait

75 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 1 year

Note

Hello! Could you do these three with Tommy please? Thank you!

🩹 (tending to each other's wounds)

🚪 (showing up at the other's door needing comfort)

🍯 (friends to lovers)

Hey there Bri! So I feel kind of bad because I’ve been keeping this ask hostage in my ask box for months now, but I was waiting for the right time for inspiration to strike. After seeing the post you made a few days ago about being let down after your birthday, I got inspired and this is what came from it. Tommy may be a little OOC in this but quite honestly, I don’t care. 🤷🏻‍♀️ I hope you enjoy and that this little story makes up from me keeping this hidden for those months! 🥰

A Late Night Visit

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: blood, injuries

Usually it’s Tommy showing up at (Y/N)’s door when he’s bitten off more than he can chew, but what happens when it’s the other way around?

It was odd for there to be a knock on Tommy’s door after dusk, but he answered it anyway. The last thing he expected to see on the other side was his friend, (Y/N), standing with her arm clutched against her chest and her stockings ripped and bloodied.

“What happened?” he questioned after his initial surprise had passed.

“I was riding my horse and he threw me off. I…I didn’t know where else to go,” she said through her sniffles, trying so hard to hold back her tears.

“You walked all the way over here?” he asked, his surprised expression returning as he took her gently by the shoulders and slowly walked with her inside. She hobbled her way over to the couch and sat down, nodding slightly when he came to kneel in front of her. “Jesus, (Y/N)…you could have hurt yourself even more,” he commented on her choice, worry evident in his voice now.

“Don’t think I could’ve made it any worse than I am now,” she said dryly, hissing as Tommy took her injured arm and brought it away from her chest so that he could inspect it. “Be gentle, please,” she asked him.

“Always am with you,” he responded, looking up at her with the slightest grin on his face. (Y/N) tried to smile, but it came out like a grimace due to the pain she was feeling.

“How bad is it?” she asked after he’d been assessing her injuries for a few minutes.

“Not as bad as it looks,” he informed her, making her exhale a relieved sigh, “you’ve just bruised your wrist pretty bad and have some scrapes on your arm and leg.”

“Good…I thought you were gonna have to chop it off,” she still managed to joke despite the pain she was still feeling. Tommy chuckled at her statement, shaking his head as a smile formed on his face.

“Would you want me to bandage the scrapes up?” he asked then, his eyebrows raised slightly as he awaited her answer.

“No,” she shook her head before looking down at the injuries in mention, “they’ll heal fine on their own.”

“Whatever you say,” he shrugged at her response smiling at her as he went to stand up.

(Y/N) stopped him before he was able to move though. “Thank you for letting me in, Tommy,” she said to him, her words making his eyes catch hers again.

“Course, love,” he answered her with a lop-sided smile, laughing softly to himself before continuing, “what was I supposed to do? Leave you on the stoop til morning?”

“I mean you could have…” (Y/N) trailed off, prying her eyes away from his. Although she could stare into them all day, she needed to break away before he could see the fact that his gaze on her, mixed with that stupid smirk, was starting to make her feel things…things that her eyes would surely give away.

“But I wouldn’t,” he told her, his eyes not straying from her as he watched her bite her bottom lip. Stop doing that before I do something about it, he said to her in his head, trying to resist the urge to make a move on her right there. He’d been dancing around his feelings for her for some time now. It was that cliché ‘I don’t want to ruin our friendship’ worry that would travel through his mind each time he considered making a move. He was hung up on the possibility that the thought could come true.

“Because you care about your friends,” she added onto his sentence, a smile on her face as her eyes found his again. She could see something different in them this time; something she hadn’t quite seen before. It made her curious, and she now wanted to know what had set it off.

“No,” he hummed, shaking his head slightly before he sat up on his knee and moved himself closer to her, “it’s because I care about the person that I love,” he whispered before he pressed his lips to her forehead. He almost laughed when he pulled back. (Y/N) was now looking at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. The small gap in them made them look the slightest bit more kissable.

“The person you love…as a friend,” she tried to coax more details out of him, quite literally in shock from his words.

“Not just as a friend anymore, (Y/N),” he shook his head again, “I want something more with you.”

“You…you do?” (Y/N) did not know what to say. She didn’t expect this to happen when she stumbled her way to his door.

“Yeah,” his word came out like a breath, “but only if you’d want something more too.”

“I’d want something more too,” she told him, a slight nod accompanying her words as a smile formed on her face.

A similar smile graced Tommy’s features as he heard what she had to say. He didn’t think it’d be that easy, and he honestly didn’t think that she’d be interested in him in the same way as he was with her. He always thought that he wasn’t the man for her…but maybe he truly was. And now he was going to try his damnedest to be the man that she deserved.

“You sure you don’t need anything on that cut?” he asked her, nodding to the scrape on her arm that still looked to be in pretty rough shape.

“I’m sure,” she assured him before her smile grew, “I think I do need a kiss though,” she tested her luck, her words making Tommy chuckle before he obliged…anything to make her feel better, right?

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @sunsetbeachesandwriting @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby blurb #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

377 notes · View notes

dyhayc · 2 years

Note

Could you write something where Eddie gives you flowers because it’s your birthday or something ? If not it’s alright :)

Word Count: erm… 4.3k

Warnings: Reader has bad friends, Steve is actually clueless about girls, Dustin is an absolute menace

A/N: There’s quite a bit of Hawkins High worldbuilding that I really didn’t expect to write, it just happened. A lot of the high school stuff is actually based on my own experiences, so that’s probably why! Also, the part about reader’s birthday doesn’t start until about halfway in, whoops!

Btw I know I took a lot of things about the plot into my own hands (so much that it’s more parallel to the request than the actual request), so anon if you’re reading this feel free to request again if you didn’t like this!

Written post-season 4 because I’m trying to manifest Eddie surviving </3

Under the cut there's a diagram I drew to help you understand the layout of the science classrooms (mostly because i had no idea how to describe what I was talking about), it'll make more sense when you start reading

It’s the first day of a new term. Calculus, your first period, is as dull as ever. You’re springing out of your seat the second the bell rings. Strolling past your locker, you head to the science classrooms for your second period: Physics with Mrs. Williams. You know it’ll be an easy class. You’ve heard from friends that she’s biased towards athletes and cheerleaders.

You’re a cheerleader only because your mom persuaded you to try it. She’d attended Hawkins High and been one of the most successful cheer captains the school ever had. Trying to fill her shoes seemed intimidating initially, but you managed just fine. Joining the cheer squad has actually helped you gain confidence and friends.

When you walk into the classroom, you’re not surprised when everyone looks at you. The cheer team was tiny compared to similar-sized schools in the area. It’s pretty rare to have cheerleaders in classes simply because there are so few of you. You’re not as popular as the other girls, but you don’t mind. Staying in the background is something you prefer.

Everyone is huddled near the wall awaiting their assigned seat, so you go to join them. Scanning the crowd, you’re disappointed to see so few seniors. Science courses are unique; the only required classes with a mix of lower and upperclassmen. To graduate, you have to pass three years of science. The first is Biology, but after that, it’s whatever science class you want, causing such a diverse crowd of students.

With an exasperated sigh, you lean against a lab station. None of your friends are taking physics, apparently, which means you’ll probably be bored out of your mind the entire time. The door slamming open breaks your train of thought. Everyone turns to look at the entrance.

Eddie Munson pushes through the crowd gathered at the door and heads towards lab station seven in the back corner. Dropping his things on the counter, he pulls out the stool. It scrapes comically loud against the already scuffed floor before stopping suddenly, engulfing everyone in awkward silence. He plops down onto the chair and ignores everyone. The lowerclassmen mumble confused questions amongst themselves, ‘Why is he sitting down?’ and ‘Don’t we have assigned seats?’ They’ve obviously never had a class with Eddie before.

In most classes, teachers isolate him. They claim he’s a distraction to the class, so he’s put in corner seats, TA tables, and sometimes even islands. Desks pushed to the corner of the room like you’re elementary schoolers. It’s cruel the way they treat him. It’s like they think he’s worthless and incapable of learning. Seeing it in person makes your stomach crawl, so you’ve always tried to smile at him and be kind. You don’t ever go farther than that, though. He’s made it clear he has no interest in cheerleaders.

Anyways, Eddie’s done these classes twice before. He knows where teachers expect him to sit. Apparently, Mrs. Williams has assigned him a lab station. Lab stations are unique to science classrooms, intended only to be used during labs. Unfortunately, they take up a lot of room, meaning there’s less space for normal desks in the middle of the class. There’s always a couple of overflow students who have to sit at a station, and they’re always upperclassmen. Lab stations are highly sought-after seats, after all.

Mrs. Williams finally arrives and begins her speech about ‘finding your seats in an orderly manner.’ She begins reading names off of her clipboard. Students groan and moan when they’re given a desk. Everyone knows you get to sit at a station if your name isn't called. You listen intently, crossing your fingers and hoping you won’t get chosen. It’s down to the last seat, and the tension is killing you.

“Stacy Miller,” your classmate pouts but sits in her seat, “The rest of you may find a lab station. One person per station, please.”

Surveying the room, you scrunch your nose at your options. Everyone has spread out. People are sitting at labs one, three, five, seven, and ten, meaning no matter where you sit, you’ll be next to somebody. Honestly, the only person you’d want to sit near is Eddie. Walking over, you see him squint suspiciously at you when you sit down at station eight. In response, you smile.

For the first week, he ignores you. It’s fine. You figured he would. Then the unexpected happens: he approaches you.

That Friday you’re taking your weekly progress quiz. Mrs. Williams steps out of the room for a moment to chat with the department head. Eddie takes advantage of her absence, pulling up a stool next to yours. Bewildered, you turn your head to look at him. Leaning closer to you, he whispers, “What’s Newton’s first law?”

You’re sure he only asks you because you’re sitting so close, but you still feel compelled to help him, “An object in motion stays in motion unless a force is acted upon it.” A few classmates turn their heads when they hear your whispers, but Eddie’s scowl turns them back around.

“Uh, can you write that down?” he asks, obviously forgetting what you just told him. You sigh, knowing how bad it would be if you got caught. Academic dishonesty would get you kicked off the cheer team. Despite your better judgment, you scribble the answer onto a spare sheet of binder paper and hand it to him.

Before he goes, you emphasize, “Please keep that hidden.” He nods in understanding, and his smile seems genuine when he thanks you. It’s just in time, too. The second he sits back down in his seat, your teacher returns. She eyes him suspiciously but doesn’t do anything. Instead, she begins to grade homework assignments.

On Monday, you hear him cheer as he’s handed back his test. The sound makes you smile. Eddie can be endearing when he wants to be. While Mrs. Williams begins her lecture about force, he comes to sit next to you. Grinning, he holds up his test in one hand, pointing to it with the other. “I got a D minus!” he exclaims before bowing his head, making his curls fall chaotically, “many thanks, my lady.”

You giggle at him, tilting your head, “You’re thanking me for a D minus?”

“Don’t laugh,” he chides, “Last year, I failed every single one of these damn tests.”

“I could’ve given you more answers,” you point out, “You could’ve gotten any grade you wanted.” Pulling out your test, you show him your perfect score.

He shakes his head, “Nah, Mrs. Williams would’ve been too suspicious. She’s already sensing a conspiracy cause I didn’t get an F.”

As is she sensed her name being spoken, your teacher whips around with her hands on her hips, “Eddie Munson! Why are you out of your seat? Stop bothering that poor girl.” Reluctantly, he returns to his seat and pretends to take notes. Satisfied, she stops looking at Eddie. You turn to grin at him, trying to contain your laughter. He looks proud as he smirks back.

Your relationship only grows from there. During lectures and free time, he sits next to you. At first, he only came over for last-minute answers to homework, but you’ve noticed a change in his behaviour. He’s started to pay attention and ask questions about the topics you’re learning. And, when you take notes, he asks to borrow them to look over.

During labs, he’ll abandon his assigned group to talk to you. Your group consists of one freshman and three sophomores, and you’re almost certain they’re afraid of him. Whenever he comes over, all four crowd the opposite side of the counter. It’s pretty comical, but you still feel bad for messing with underclassmen. Regardless of how your group acts towards him, the shift in his attitude is there. He participates in the experiments and helps your group record data while visiting rather than hanging around and wasting time.

His differences shine brightest when he receives his weekly quizzes. What were once F’s and D’s become high C’s and a few low B’s. Even Mrs. Williams has noticed his improvement. She held you back after class once to talk about it. “I don’t know how you’ve done it,” she’d said, “but that boy has never thrived as much as he has when he’s with you.” Throughout her speech about ‘allowing him to sit next to you’ so you can ‘tutor him in class,’ that single line stuck out to you.

You’ve tried to deny it for weeks, but you have a crush on him. It’s in the way he actually listens to you when you talk. The way he makes you laugh so hard you cry. The way he leaves ‘thank you’ notes in your locker after you help him study for a quiz. It’s in the way he smiles at you like you’re the only one in the room. He makes you feel like you’re worth more than the sun, the moon, and the stars.

He’s special, magical, ethereal, loved. You could use so many words to describe him, but they would never be enough.

It’s a feeling that you fight hard to control. You know what your friends would say if you told them about your feelings for “the Freak.” It feels like your heart is torn in two directions, and you don’t know which side to follow. When you’re with the cheer squad, you feel like you belong. These girls have been by your side for years now. You should stick to their side… right?

But then it’s 9:35, and you’re walking into second period. Your shoulders feel lighter, like a weight you carry everywhere is lifted momentarily. Then, he sits next to you, and you talk, and you laugh, and you’re free. For ninety minutes every day, you speak with no filter. It’s the only time you feel like your personality isn’t diluted for the sake of your social life.

Today is no different. You beam at Eddie when he steps through the door. He sits next to you and jokingly teases you about the doodles of your favourite flower, bluebells, in the margins of the notes he borrowed the day before. You’ve come to expect this playfulness from him. He points out the differences between you two, but he never makes you feel bad for it. He seems to like the contrast.

He holds up the note you left in his locker yesterday. You’d written, ‘Congrats on getting a C, Eddie! :)’ in sparkly pink gel pen. You wonder if it was too obvious. “I’m surprised you don’t dot your I’s with hearts,” he says with a slight mumble to his words, as if he doesn’t believe he’s admitting them out loud. Well, you certainly didn’t expect that.

“What?”

“Y’know. You’re so… cutesy. You draw flowers in the shapes of hearts on your notes, you write with colourful pens, and your handwriting is always so neat. I just think it would suit you, that’s all.”

And that’s all it takes. From then on, every single note passed is written with I’s that are dotted with hearts. You go out of your way to include I’s in your message. You even find reasons to leave notes in his locker so that you can draw hearts that you’re gifting to him on paper.

You’re so distracted by Eddie that you almost forget your birthday is coming. Instead of telling him in class, as you’d planned, you slip a note into his locker during passing period. Satisfied, you head to the lunch room to eat with your friends.

Eddie scoffs at Dustin’s nagging. Their classes before lunch are close, so Dustin tries to gain some extra knowledge about the next Hellfire session every day. Eddie assumes that he thinks he’s being subtle, but the attempts to interrogate are pretty blatant. Rolling his eyes, he opens his locker to get his lunchbox when a piece of paper flutters to the floor.

Eddie’s quick, but Dustin’s quicker, picking up the note and opening it. Eddie snatches it away with a glare, but now it’s Dustin’s turn to roll his eyes. “New message from your lady friend?” he inquires, “Y’know you’re not subtle about her at all.”

Eddie scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mind your business, Henderson.” While walking, he grabs what he needs and stuffs the note in his pocket.

“Yea, right. That cheerleader has you wrapped around her finger. You’re whipped.” The second Dustin says ‘cheerleader,’ Eddie turns his head to examine the boy. How the hell did he know you were a cheerleader? Shaking his head, he opts to ignore the statement, going to find his seat at the head of the table instead.

The next 20 or so minutes fly by. For some reason, the freshmen are interested in stories about drunks from the band’s gigs, but it’s entertaining enough to fill the time until Eddie decides to sneak a glance your way. Bad idea. You’re so radiant that he can’t tear his eyes off of you. At least, not until Dustin opens his mouth.

“See? Whipped,” he says, looking around the table for support. Multiple people nod in agreement.

“Yea, man,” Lucas agrees, “you’ve got it bad.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no,” Eddie counters, “No. Freshmen do not get to give me shit about this, okay? Keep your mouths shut.”

Mike speaks up, “Why not? We have more girlfriends than everyone else in the club. We can be your wingmen.”

Eddie can feel his soul being ripped out of his body just from the thought of these kids trying to talk to a girl for him. “If I find out you twerps talked to her,” he begins seriously, pointing at all of them, “I will ban you from Hellfire for life.” They all collectively groan but don’t say anything more.

Leaning his forearms on the counter with his hands clasped together, Eddie can’t believe he’s here. It seems they can’t believe it either. Robin looks shocked, while Steve looks baffled and mildly concerned, “Really? You’re serious?”

Eddie huffs, “Can you please just help me?” As much as he hated to admit it, the freshmen were right. He needed help. The only people he could think of were Steve and Robin. After fighting a supernatural demon together, they should count as friends, right?

Steve persists, “You know she’s a cheerleader, right?” Eddie rolls his eyes in frustration, and Steve puts up his hands in surrender, “All right. I was just making sure, man.”

Robin decides to speak up before the two boys get into a fight, “What do you want the gift to mean?” Eddie furrows his brows, confused, so she clarifies, “Like, is this gift romantic? Platonic? Something else?”

“Um, romantic, I think,” he mumbles in response. Robin and Steve give each other a knowing look. Dustin comes in often to share gossip about his DM. They hadn’t believed him until Eddie came in today for some advice.

“What about jewelry?” Steve suggests.

Robin quickly shakes her head, “No, that costs too much.”

Steve counters, “Jewelry’s romantic, though.”

Robin scoffs at Steve’s obliviousness. “Sure, it’s romantic, but you need to think about it from her perspective. She’s humble. She wouldn’t accept a gift that costs too much,” she turns to Eddie, “has she mentioned things she likes when you guys have talked?”

Fishing in his pocket, Eddie finds the note from his locker. Placing it on the counter, the two lean forward to look at the paper, which reads: “Sorry i forgot to tell you in class, but my birthday is on Monday! i just thought you’d wanna know!” It’s written in the same signature sparkly pink gel pen with hearts replacing every dot on the paper, but it also has two bluebell stems drawn in the shape of a heart. Steve mumbles in shock, ‘I can’t believe it.’

“I know those are her favourite,” Eddie says, ignoring him and pointing to the drawing, “I just don’t know what they are.”

“Those are bluebells, which are the perfect gift,” Robin replies, motioning with her hands, “Get her a bouquet!”

Steve interjects, “Wait a minute, don’t flowers mean things? What if bluebells mean friendship or something worse?”

After realizing nobody knows what bluebells represent, Eddie sighs dejectedly and rubs his face with his hands. Robin glances at the clock before offering, “Our shift is almost over. Why don’t we go to the library and find out what they mean?” Steve makes a face because he’s her ride home, but she makes a face back and whispers, “It’s for love, Steve!”

Arriving at the library, they split up to find different books on the topic of flowers. After grabbing a few options, they meet back up at a table. Flipping through the pages, they eventually all find information on bluebells. “Mine says, ‘The bluebell is a symbol of humility and constancy,’” Robin reads.

Steve nods, “This book says they mean ‘gratitude.’”

“Bluebells represent everlasting love. They convey respect and unwavering devotion to a loved one,” Eddie adds, “So, they don’t mean anything bad.”

“This is great! Call a florist, and you’ll be good to go,” Steve advises.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “yeah. It’ll be great.”

That Sunday night, you tell your family that you’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. There’s a big game that night, and the cheer captain wants to meet to discuss the plan again. You’re excited to see your friends. You’d spent the entirety of Friday’s lunch rambling about your plans for your birthday. Your extended family is coming over for dinner for your nineteenth birthday. Yes, nineteen. Embarrassingly, you’d been held back in Kindergarten, but it never seemed to affect your life.

When you arrive at school, your friends don’t give you birthday wishes. It’s fine. It’s probably too early in the morning for them. They just aren’t awake yet. Subtly, you hint that today’s your birthday, but none of the girls pick up on it. Then, you try some more obvious statements, “You know, I heard it’s someone’s birthday today.”

There’s a little gasp, “Oh!” Your heart is elated; they finally remembered!

“Is it Jason?”

Just like that, it falls right back down.

“No, his was two months ago. It’s Patrick’s birthday. Remember, he said if the basketball team wins tonight, they’ll party because of the win, and if they lose, they’ll party because of his birthday.” They all begin to gossip, claiming that ‘he’s so selfless for not caring about his birthday.’ You listen in shock. Is it selfish to care about your birthday?

The question looms over your head like a dark cloud. As you go from the football field to calculus to physics, it brings down your mood. You fiddle with the hem of your uniform’s skirt as you zone out of Mrs. Williams’ lecture. You’d hoped at least Eddie would say something, but it’s been almost the entire period, and he hasn’t even come over. It only makes you feel even worse.

Meanwhile, Eddie is agonizing over what to do. You’re obviously upset; he’d have to be blind not to see it. He wants to go over and tell you happy birthday, then make the whole class sing for you, but he stops himself. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise he has planned. Scribbling on a piece of paper, he folds it up and throws it to you.

The note lands next to you, and you go to look at Eddie, but he’s already turned back to his paper. Opening it, you see ‘why are you sad?’ written on the page. With a sigh, you write your response and throw it back. He unfurls it to see, ‘I’m just tired’ written in pencil. There are no hearts, smiley faces, or doodles, and it breaks his heart. He decides to tell you ‘happy birthday,’ but it’s too late. The bell has rung, and you’re rushing out of the classroom faster than he’s ever seen you walk. Clenching his fists, he chastises himself for being such an idiot.

Your next period goes about as well as the first two. You feel like a walking corpse when you sit in the cafeteria. Part of you wonders if you should just tell your friends it’s your birthday. But would they really mean it if they had to be point-blank told? Would it be selfish to ask them for acknowledgment? It’s not like you’re asking them for a gift, but one single ‘happy birthday’ would be nice. But, if they had cared, wouldn’t they have remembered? Your inner turmoil consumes you, so you spend the entire lunch looking down and pushing food around your tray.

Eddie watches you mess with your food from afar. The guilt is killing him, and he’s making no efforts to hide it. Everyone at the table is uncomfortably aware of his pining. “Okay, this is weird,” Dustin speaks up, “You gotta go talk to her. You’re like a trainwreck in human form.”

“Watch your tone, Henderson,” is the only retort that Eddie can muster at the moment. Gathering his things, he goes to leave, “I’m ditching. I’ll be back for Hellfire.” Getting off campus is surprisingly easy. They never lock the gates. Throwing his things in the passenger seat of his van, he sits in the driver’s seat and groans, annoyed with himself. Driving away, he heads home to distract himself until he can pick up the flowers.

At the game, you struggle to be optimistic enough. Doing cheers and smiling big is hard when you feel like shit. Multiple people have asked if you’re okay, but you just tell them you’re tired, your chosen excuse of the day. The minutes seem to crawl by when all you want to do is go home. The thought of your birthday party with your family is the only reason you’re not sobbing at the moment.

You stay behind to help the leadership kids and the sparse volunteers clean up when the game is over. Your class president told you it’s okay to leave if you’re exhausted, but you’ve always stayed after games. It’s nice to help out your school, even in small ways. It helps to feel like you’re a part of a community.

With the trash swept up and the bleachers pushed back, everyone files out the doors and into the parking lot. It’s dark when you step out into the cool night, but you’re glad. Tears roll down your cheeks the second you don’t have a task to complete. Stepping off to the side, you watch as everyone leaves, including the Hellfire club. Seeing them makes your heart ache more. You can’t believe Eddie didn’t remember. You’d written him a note and everything.

You don’t want to cry in front of your family, so you try to get everything out now. Anyways, driving while crying is a bad idea. It’s fine, you’re fine, you try and convince yourself. It’s not working that well.

Glancing up, you see a figure walking toward you. Thinking it’s a security guard, you dust yourself off and try to look presentable. They’ll probably tell you to go home. Looking up again, you realize that it’s “Eddie?” He’s walking with his hands behind his back, eyes watching his feet nervously.

“Hi,” he says softly, stopping a few feet before you, “I got these for you. Happy birthday.” He brings the prettiest bouquet you’ve ever seen from behind his back. It’s primarily bluebells with baby’s breath lining the outsides. The stems are tied together with a pastel blue bow.

You take them, perplexed, “I thought you left with your club?”

He shakes his head, “No, I just went to grab these. Sorry if they’re fucked up, I had to leave them in my van during Hellfire, and some of the petals are squished, and-”

While he’s rambling, you notice a card stuck in the ribbon. Pulling it out, your lower lip trembles as your tears start falling again. Eddie’s messy handwriting is scrawled in red ink, but that’s not what draws your attention. Every single I is dotted with a heart, even down to the exclamation mark.

‘For the prettiest cheerleader in the world galaxy,

Happy birthday!

Love, Eddie’

“No! They’re absolutely perfect,” you hope the emotion in your words is enough to convey how you feel.

He finally looks at your face and whispers, “Are you crying?” but you ignore him and carry on.

“I love them so much, thank you!” You wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest, mindful of the flowers. He holds you until you stop and pull away, “I’m sorry. It’s just… this is the first time someone’s said happy birthday to me all day.”

He looks concerned, “What about your friends?” You scrunch your nose and shake your head, frowning at the memory. He frowns too, “God, they don’t deserve you.”

Staring straight into his eyes so close creates a thick cloud of tension. You need to know you’re not the only one feeling it, “Did you mean what you wrote on the card? When you said ‘love’?”

Timidly, he breaks eye contact and begins to ramble again, “Yea, I did. Robin, Steve, and I went to the library to find out what bluebells represent, and it turns out it’s eternal love. Then, when I called the florist, they said that baby’s breath also means eternal love, so it, y’know, fit…” His words trail off when you lean closer with a smile. Getting the hint, he cups your cheeks with his hands. Gently, you press your lips to his. The kiss is so soft and warm that it sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. When you pull away, he’s beaming at you while you laugh at his boyish grin.

“I think that was the best birthday present I’ve ever got.”

“You think?” he demands, exaggerating his offended look, “No, that won’t do. C’mere.” He pulls you back in for another kiss, and this time, you tell him, ‘I know.’

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #fluff #light angst #my writing #request

573 notes · View notes

kiankiwi · 7 months

Note

This is my first request ever so I’m sorry if it’s not making sense or whatever lol but could you do one where Elvis is teaching his little (girl please) how to ride a bike or something along those lines and she falls and gets hurt? Include Jerry please and all the pet names 🥰 thank you so much!! I love your fics and imagines!!

"Yeah baby, go go go!" Elvis screamed as he watched his daughter, Molly who just this morning requested Elvis take off her training wheels and teach her how to ride her bike like all the big girls in her class. Elvis couldn't say no to that! He even had Jerry there filming to make sure they documented this Big Girl milestone.

So the father spent the next two hours balancing her on her bike while Uncle Jerry filmed as she learned to pedal and then as she got better at that, he pushed her ahead and he ran behind her.

Molly was doing really well if Elvis did say so himself. Until she attempted to speed up and forgot how to stop. "Daddy!" She screamed, realizing she was heading straight for a big bush. "You gotta stop baby!" "I-" She was cut off just as she slammed her bike against the house and fell right into the bush. "Oooh shit!" Elvis cringed. Jerry sprang into action and put the camera down and both men ran toward the crying girl.

Elvis got to Molly first. "Okay, okay, can daddy see darlin'? Oooh yeah you're alright. It's all okay." She was wailing even though all Elvis could see was just a little blood and a scrape on her knee. "Oh it's okay, it's not to bad baby, just a little scrape." Elvis hugged her while Jerry sat in front of her and checked out her injury. Molly more scared than hurt screeched when Jerry tried to see if she got any rocks in her open scrape. "No touchy please! Owie!" Jerry immediately put his hands up. "Okay okay, I'm sorry I won't touch lovey. Can we take you inside and get you fixed up?"

Molly tried to act as brave as she could and wiped at her eyes. "Yes please." Elvis picked her up in a bridal carry and carried her into the house and into the downstairs bathroom. Elvis sat her on the counter of the bathroom and she smiled. "I feel so tall daddy!" She said. "You are so big baby!" Elvis smiled and booped her nose, happy she was a bit distracted.

Jerry turned the sink on and wet a hand towel. "Alright, you little miss are gonna be just fine but this may sting just a little bit. Can you hug daddy really tight?" She nodded and pushed her face into her daddy's chest. "Oooh you're so strong baby!" Elvis praised as Jerry wet her knee, cleaning up the blood and dirt.

"OWIE!" Molly yelled, her little voice still muffled in her daddy's chest. "I know sweetheart. Almost done, almost done!" Jerry said as he washed off her knee.

"Okay honey, which bandaid do you want, Peppa Pig or Strawberry Shortcake?" Elvis asked. Molly came out of her daddy's shirt to inspect her options.

"Peppa..." She whimpers. "Good choice love!" Jerry said as he opened the bandaid and put it on her scrape.

"There you go baby! You were so brave!" Elvis exclaimed as he picked Molly up and bounced her in his arm a bit. "I did very good job!" She yelled, giggling. "Yes! You did!" Jerry and Elvis confirmed.

there we go! I tried to put some pet names everywhere I could! I hope you liked it! I love some dad elvis!

@yumm1-yuk1 @elvisthesillygoose @mooodyblue @arianatheangel-girl @vintagepresley @sillybookmarks

#dad!elvis #elvis and his little girl #kiwiswriting

38 notes · View notes

thebadchoicemachine · 3 months

Note

if you're taking hatchetfield writing requests, could you please do something about where webby was during npmd?

Hannah curled up under her sheets. Something was wrong today, just like something was wrong yesterday… and the day before that… and every day for the past two weeks. Today was worse, though. Much worse. Today the bad thing wasn’t coming: it was here.

“Come on, Hannah,” Lex called from the doorway. “You can’t miss school again.” “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. I’m not letting you skip again.” Hannah threw her blanket off to glare at Lex. “It’s BAD.”

“I know,” Lex’s voice softened. She walked over and sat on Hannah’s bed. “I know, okay? But going is still better than flunking out in your freshman year. Believe me, you don’t wanna end up without a high school diploma.”

Guilt swelled in Hannah’s throat at Lex’s bitter tone but, still, she held her ground. “No, you don’t know. It’s not the other kids. It’s not the teachers, not the classes. It’s the school. It’s. Bad. And I’m not going.”

“Hannah…” Lex began in a warning tone.

Hannah pulled her blanket over her head. “You’re late for work.” She didn't need to see a clock to know. She never did.

“I–” Lex checked her watch, then threw her hands up. “Fine! One more sick day. ONE, Hannah. I mean it.”

Hannah stayed under the covers long after her door slammed shut. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to remember the good songs—white, not blue—but the black was creeping in harsh and fast like rolling thunder.

The boy was running in an empty stadium. His feet ached and his lungs burned but he could not flee fast enough. He’d never been fast enough. The monster crept closer with ease, keeping pace even as it stepped slowly. Closer and closer, laughing, yelling, taunting until…

The girl was singing. She never sang, not in public. She was always too afraid to. Today, though, she thought she was alone. She pored out her heart with the character’s plight that spoke so closely to her own. And he mocked her. She’d never been good enough and now she never would be.

The woman in the car tried to scream. The man in the woods begged.

The teenagers sat huddled around the cursed book. They called the names. Hannah tried to scream at them, to stop them, but she wasn’t there. They chanted. They called. Horrible, lurid lights of green, blue, pink, yellow, and purple scorched the earth black. They were here.

“NO.” Hannah shot up in bed. She recognized the boy from her vision. He’d been kind to her. They were never friends but he’d smile at her in the hall. He was good. “No, no, no,” She buried her face in her hands. “Webby, why?” Webby didn’t answer at first. “Why?” Hannah demanded again.

“You know I can’t help them.” The ephemeral voice came in a shameful whisper. “They won’t listen to me. They can’t even hear me.” “I don’t want it to happen,” Hannah choked out.

“I know, my darling. I know.”

Webby reached out of the black and white, wrapping arm after arm around the scared girl. The being thought back across all dimensions, across all her brothers’ plans. The doll that lead to nuclear hell, the voice that called Hannah to senseless fights, how she barely managed to scrape one child to safety each time.

“Whatever happens, Hanna, I’ll be here protecting you.”

#hatchetfield #webby hatchetfield #hannah foster #npmd #not read through just written #writing drabble #fanfic #prompt fic

11 notes · View notes

kzele · 8 months

Text

Cold Hard Truths

Disclaimer: this story is not for fans of the Peter/Gwen ship! If you are a diehard shipper of them and dislike anything that pokes holes in that ship, do not read! On the flip-side, this is not a story that bashes anyone. It does, however, cast a critical light on Gwen Stacy and her canon choices.

Summary: Peter has very different feelings about the kiss on Thanksgiving than in canon and as much as he cares about Gwen, there are some things to air out if either of them can move forward.

As Peter continued to skate a little more away from Liz and Flash, he heard the scrape of approaching skates and looked up to find Gwen coming near him. He started to wave but the look on her face stopped him.

"You've been avoiding me all week long!"

"What?"

Peter recalled when he had tried contacting Gwen earlier only to get told she wasn't available by her dad when Peter could clearly hear her voice in the background. Didn't she not want to talk to him? He was already getting more confused by the second as to what this was all about.

She crossed her arms and glared a little, "I won't be your second choice."

Peter really didn't feel like chasing her down to tell her his side of things AGAIN so he grabbed her shoulder, "Okay, look. I was going to tell you this over the phone but maybe this works out better doing this in person. . ."

She turned to look at him with curious, hopeful eyes.

He internally cringed. Saying this was going to SUCK. He took a deep breath and formed the words, "I don't see you as anything more than a friend."

Gwen's jaw dropped, "WHAT?!

People started to look their way, so she hunched her shoulders and dropped her voice, "I mean, you-you don't. . ."

Peter rubbed his eyes and sighed, "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

Gwen looked away, "Then. . .the kiss and the hints I gave. . ."

"Hints? I didn't realize you felt anything like that until you kissed me on Thanksgiving. And I was kinda too much in shock when you kissed me to say anything, " he stated, rather bluntly.

"Oh. . .I see."

She clearly didn't.

Peter felt awful seeing the hurt in her eyes, but it had to be said. The one good thing about the avoidance was that he had some time to review what he felt and ask May for advice. Surprisingly, his aunt was very supportive of his lack of feelings towards Gwen.

*flashback*

"Dear, you don't need to feel guilty about not returning someone's feelings. There's going to be no easy way to say something like this, especially to such an old friend."

Peter frowned, "But what if I say the wrong thing and end the friendship?"

His aunt shook her head, "Peter, unless you say something intentionally cruel and further trample the poor girl's feelings, it won't be you who ends the friendship. Whatever flaws in your upbringing or in you, I know for a fact that you are not naturally cruel nor did we raise to be so. Be straightforward but also be as kind as you can afford to be."

His shoulders deflated, "And if she ends the friendship? Won't it still be my fault?"

At this, May Parker took her nephew's face in her hands and spoke, "That would rest entirely on Gwen's shoulders. If she can't handle being 'just friends' then maybe she was never a friend in the first place. Friendship has a very special place in life and should never be undervalued or tossed away lightly. When Mary-Jane told you she wasn't ready for a serious relationship, did you stop hanging around her or enjoying her company even though you were a little hurt?"

"No. You're right, Aunt May. Thank you."

She patted his cheek, "Don't mention it, Peter. It's what mothers do."

*end of flashback*

"I-Gwen, I've always appreciated your friendship and I hope we can keep that going still! Just because I don't feel anything romantic between us doesn't mean I don't still care about you," Peter said while gently gripping her shoulders.

She remained silent both her head and eyes turned downwards.

He looked at her pleadingly, "Forget thinking about me in that way and move on, alright? You'll find that someone at some point and I'll support you 100%. Well, maybe not if they're a serial killer or abusive or something. Other than that I'm behind whoever you choose."

Peter thought he saw her lips twitch at that last part and gave her one last squeeze before letting go.

"Give yourself some time to adjust, alright? I'll see you. . .when I see you," he awkwardly stated before skating away.

Great note to end that on, Parker, he thought. Gah! He could have kicked himself for making THAT his conversation ender. However, before he could further berate himself on his choice of phrasing. . .

"Tiger, can we talk?"

Since only one person calls Peter that nickname, it wasn't exactly hard to guess the next person coming up to him.

"Oh, hey MJ. Sure, I guess. What do you need?"

Mary-Jane Watson looked much less carefree than usual and her next words showed this.

"What'd you say to Gwen? She looks like you told her Christmas was canceled."

He grimaced.

Wonderful, the rumors are practically starting already. Knowing how gossip mills love a bad guy, Peter will probably be made out to be the next Satan by the time the week is over.

"To make a long story short: she likes me beyond our friendship and I. . .had to explain that I don't see her like that."

MJ's eyes widened and she uncrossed her arms in shock.

"Peter," she said slowly, "she's had feelings for you since the third grade."

Oof. Now he feels worse.

"Oh, wonderful. That's not the best thing to hear when you're hoping for someone to move on quickly."

MJ frowned, "Do you really think Gwen's the one you should be writing off? She's been waiting for you for years and Liz only just started giving you the time of day. And even that still seems divided between you and Flash."

Peter shook his head. "First off, they literally just broke up this fall so of course they aren't over each other yet. Point two, Gwen could have told me much earlier than this year and we could resolved all this ages ago. Point three, neither of those previous points compare to the fact that I can't FORCE myself to like her like that."

"No one's saying you have to force yourself, Tiger. I'm just wondering if you've thought this through enough. You're not a neanderthal by a longshot, but you don't always know how to go about things like feelings. Maybe you should be giving yourself some time to really think before talking like that."

Her voice was set in a soft, coaxing tone but Peter was so done with this conversation and everything else today.

"I've had since Thanksgiving to think about it since she wouldn't return my calls. AND she had her dad stonewall me when the phone was picked up. I heard her talking in the background when he answered the phone, MJ. All she had to say was 'hey, I need some time to think before we talk' and I'd have been happy to wait. But I had no idea what was going on with her at all. If she's loved me since the third grade and we've been friends for even longer than that, why is it SO HARD for her to communicate with me what she wants?"

He knew it was kind of unfair, venting at MJ like this, but he couldn't say this to Gwen after he already took a sledgehammer to her feelings.

She had paused for a long moment and Peter was tempted to skate away like he had previous conversation, when she opened her mouth once more, "She didn't want to ruin the friendship she has with you."

He looked away for a moment before speaking, "I don't want that, either, but it's kinda hard to keep a friendship alive if it's this painful for us to talk to each other. As the social expert between the two of us, Mary-Jane, how much more difficult is it to keep a long-term romance alive if this kind of thing happens all the time?"

Dead silence was his answer as he pinned her stunned face with a searching look, ". . .Yeah. That's what I figured."

His voice held no hints of mockery, just tired expectance.

This time he didn't even bother with excusing himself; Peter just skated in the direction of the hot chocolate stand. Solitude and hot chocolate would really go a long way to improving his mood.

It would be not long after this thought that a lightning bolt hit the ice rink.

#tssm #tssm peter parker #the spectacular spider man #tssm gwen stacy #tssm mary-jane watson #tssm au #tssm gwen stacy critical #tssm mary-jane watson critical #which is rough because I love mj but her shipper tendencies would realistically cause problems #the rest of the time she's great tho #my main beef is with gwen

20 notes · View notes

star-girl69 · 1 year

Text

Dragon Dreamer

a/n: i wrote this in like literally 20 minutes so i hope you all enjoy whatever this is!!

warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of death, graphic descriptions of injury, incest, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Three- When You are Young

—-

No reply comes from Dragonstone.

They close their gates, lock their windows. The Keep does the same.

Aemond confines you to your chambers and your aviary, telling you that it’s for the best. Tells you he does not want to risk you getting hurt. Does not want to lose you. Helaena comes to visit- but you and your birds are restless.

A part of you does know it is for the best.

Dragonstone does not react- only grieves, silently. Mourns. And you do as well.

Lucerys was a sweet boy, and did not deserve what happened to him.

Yes, he took Aemond’s eye, but he was young and scared. He truly thought Aemond was going to kill Jace, and some part of you could not blame him for that.

You know what it is like to be young and scared, to lash out in fear.

—-

When your parents died in an accident- a part of you had never recovered from seeing their bloody bodies.

They wanted to keep you away from King’s Landing, away from the game. But with no other relatives, you went to the King and Queen in King’s Landing.

You screamed and cried when someone touched you. Alicent trying to hide her sadness when you walked into the throne room surrounded by nameless, faceless handmaidens and servants. When she tried to give you a hug, offer you some semblance of a mothers comfort, you started screaming and kicking, and she was forced to let you go.

They did try to help you, to their credit. Helaena told you about your bugs, you told her about your birds. The King and Queen had an aviary built for you. Aegon offered you milk of the poppy to make it all go away, but you declined. It was only Aemond who did not try to outwardly comfort you, only looking at you with pity in his eyes.

It wasn’t until you fell in the gardens, with no one around, scraping your knee and crying. You half-expected your mother to come from around the corner, kiss it better, and you only cried more when you remembered that she could not.

Until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Aemond asked, eye scanning over your body. He stopped upon your knee, bloody and gnarled, layers of skin peeling back like something cruel. “Oh.”

“Birds and sapphires intwine,” you murmured.

But Aemond had grown up around Helaena and her prophecies, so he paid no mind to it.

He walked around you, wiping your tears with a soft hand. You whipped your head away, even though his touch felt nice.

“Birds and sapphires intwine!” Aemond did not know what to do. His sister never acts like this, and he pulls away when you start repeating the phrase over and over again, injured knee pulled up to your chest.

“It’s okay-” He tried, but your tears fell faster. “Please don’t cry. I- I don’t-”

“Birds and sapphires intwine!”

“Okay, it’s okay. I know, they twine or whatever, I know.”

“You know?” He was shocked when your tears slowed.

“Yeah. I know. I know.” And you let him help you up, and take you to the maesters.

—-

The bed is warm when you wake. Aemond wraps an arm tight around your waist, back pressed to his chest, nuzzles the back of your neck as you wake.

“Aemond?”

Even after coming back from Storm’s End, that night he fell to his knees and begged no one and everyone to not take you away from him- you have rarely woken with his arms around you.

He spends most nights awake and alert, sitting up in bed with a sword at his side.

He’s paranoid, thoughts of Vhagar swallowing Luke whole plague his mind.

You try your best to comfort him, and he lets you hold him, let’s you whisper sweet words, but you know he is not listening, not feeling.

“Yes, my dreamer?”

“N-nothing. I just wanted to make sure it was you.” He does nothing but hold you tighter.

Your relationship with Aemond was something that burned hot and fast, but was eternal. From that day in the gardens, to him becoming the only person who could soothe your fits, to secret nights where he came to your room and held you. With him there, you could not sink into the dreams.

It was surprising to be held so tightly like this. It had not happened for so long. It was almost… foreign.

But Aemond was Aemond, and you would always fall into him so perfectly.

“I love you,”

The room was silent.

“I love you too, my pretty dreamer.”

You bite back a sob.

—-

taglist:

@stargaryenx @leoramage @slutforaemond

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

86 notes · View notes

drowning-in-cacophony · 8 months

Text

it/thing

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 218: How Do You Use 'It'?

[Summary: a girl ignores her impulses and prepares for her new fate]

Her fingers are guaranteed to stay at her sides, even as the tips curve slightly towards her palms as if to stop a reaching she’d never permit. Instead it’s her eyes that rove, that graze and brush and take in the whole… thing.

She’s not too sure there’s actually a word to describe it.

The room, at least, she can: oppressive. Like a chamber blooming off a cave’s narrow tunnels, with a ceiling curving and pulsing, no windows in sight and the only light comes from the thing, a lacing pattern like veins casting over her skin. It’s like stepping inside a balloon, for some unquestionable reason, and probably she should be running back out. Places that feel like this are never going to be safe; things that happen here are never right. These are the places of lifechanging events, the sort the people making don’t live to see what change they create.

But like her fingers stay at her sides, her feet stay firmly pointed inwards. Away from the only exit she can see, because though it’s there, open and waiting, she won’t take it. Can’t take it.

“How do you use it?” Quiet. Serious. Two words perfect to describe her in the last five days; possibly the two words that made her perfect to get to this position. Deeper inside this thing, he turns, eyes glinting in the darkness. The thing’s light causes a water-like ripple, dropping down his forehead and colliding with his brows.

“It’s simpler than it looks,” he answers with a ghost of a smile. “Quite intuitive, once you’ve settled in.”

It’s not quite an answer, she notes. In service of his want to be mysterious a little longer – up to this point, he has been the only one to work it – or in genuineness that there is no way to answer. To drive a car, you sit in the front seat. For this, maybe first look rings true, that there is no front seat.

Still, she wants an answer. Directions, something to grasp and work with. She doesn’t want to step in only in his shadow, letting him be the only way to settle in.

“How’d you do that, then?” She can’t make herself take another step closer – what if she disturbs something? – but she can set her mouth into a hard, challenging line.

Once more, his mouth twitches. Not a true smile, nothing more than a whisp. Under these lights, it fits better than it would outside. Like the swirling dimness befits controlled looks, thin expressions.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Again, not an answer. This time her fingertips curl towards her palms with deliberate needed sharpness, to clench her fists in frustration. Is it not enough that she entered this place? That she’s gazed up and around at this thing, taken a breath and not turned and fled? She’d heard rumours that the two others they’d tried had done that. They’d looked at what she had, and chose whatever other options they could scrape, but she hasn’t. She’s still here, not running.

“Maybe you should trust our superiors. If they’ve let me in here, clearly they’re confident I want to know.” Her tone’s sharper, like the edge of her chin that she juts out. Can he see that, in this light? At least her voice is unimpeded; this whole thing doesn’t seem to emit any sound. It’s mostly a lightshow, pulses and waves that make her feel like there’s sound missing.

There’s no smile this time, ghost or not. There’s just a laugh, sharp as her tone, barking across the space. She jumps; controls it into a jolt of her shoulders, practically invisible.

“That’s more bite than the last two had,” he says with a wry shake of his head. “I think I might have offended you.”

Might?

“If you want to make it up to me, you should answer my questions.” She badly wants to fold her arms over her chest, a firm wall of steel, but it’s better keeping them at her sides. His eyes flick over her again – and how does she look, under this light? – before jerking his head at her. Gesturing her closer.

She doesn’t swallow, because she knew what she was getting into when she came in here, yet it does take a second more than she’d like to work her feet into the first steps.

“It works through here,” he explains as she slowly steps closer. It’s narrower, and it gets dimmer, further from the exit. The darkness swirls like a too-thick blanket; she doesn’t give into the impulse to breathe too quickly.

Instead she looks where he gestures, a part of the wall carved out, hollowed. It’s like a geode cracked, the thing bleeding in blunt chunks around the hollow, the place, she understands, that she is to control it.

Across, there is another hollow. His.

Claustrophobia rears to brush against the back of her neck, ignored like every other impulse she’s had since entering. Third time’s meant to be the charm, and she’s the third to enter. She’s the one who won’t let herself leave.

“It’s intuitive, once I settle in.” An echo, a questioning statement for confirmation. Either way, she glances at him, finding his eyes by the way the film catches the thing’s light. He nods, the ghost back on his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he tells her, a sentiment that doesn't help at all. “It’s not as horrible as it looks like it’ll be.”

#flash fiction friday #flash fiction #short story #writeblr #anna's writing #word count: 916 #I'm calling this speculative #little sci fi/mysterious vibes here

8 notes · View notes