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pick-me-up-im-scared · 5 days

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Can't Sleep (Ellie Williams x Reader) (Smut)

Short Summary: Ellie has been struggling to fall asleep due to her past trauma. But you might have just found something that could work! Without even being contious.

⚠️Warning!⚠️: This story contains smut that includes somnophilia. Also includes a small mention of past trauma/ptsd

Words: 1379

(Credit to however the pictures belongs to, they’re not mine! I just found them on Pinterest like everyone on this fucking app does)

Ellie sighed as she looked up at the ceiling. Another night ruined. She truly didn’t understand why she kept trying when 99,9% of the nights would end up with her waking up at around 3 am and not be able to go back to sleep. Being used to this she would usually look around the dark room for about 15 minutes before getting up and spend the rest of the night watching some useless tv show while scolding herself for not being able to sleep this night either. Either you would wake up, glancing to your side and notice the bed being empty and thereafter walk down the squeaky stairs to see your girlfriend hunched down on the sofa. Or sometimes you didn’t even notice until your alarm went off, signaling you to wake up and get ready for work. Yeah, those days definitely left you feeling guilty……. You really felt bad for her, you do! If you could somehow give her your sleepiness, if just for a day every once in a while, you would 100% do it. Without a doubt! But unfortunately you can’t, which leaves you with only one option, supporting her as best as you can. You’ve went to the doctor, therapist, anyone who could potentially help her with her trauma, but to no use. The sleeping pills she got prescribed only left her feeling more sleepy, yet her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. At least not for more than an hour or so.

Ellie sifted her glance from the wooden ceiling to the sleeping figure beside her. You were currently facing her, allowing her to take in your beauty. Fuck, she had no idea how she got so lucky. If you asked Ellie she would DEFINITELY say you’re out of her league, but you assure her she’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of (and more). Her eyes trace over your peaceful face, your eyebrows slightly frowning, most likely due to a dream, your lashes lightly touching your under eyes, and your cute lips slightly pouting. Holy fuck she wanted to kiss you so badly. Her eyes continued down your neck, onto your décolletage that’s being highlighted by the moonlight before they stop at your…..chest. Being the summer time you always wore a spaghetti strapped crop top to bed, along with whatever underwear you used the day before. But the nights sure could be a little chilly.

One of your straps had fallen off your shoulder, allowing more of your boob to show then intentionally. Ellie tried not to look, but failed miserably. Knowing just how soft they feel in her hands she had to physically restrain herself from reaching out and touch them. Ellie continued to eye your exposed breast while letting her imagination wander free, not being aware of just how excited it got her until she, by reflex, pressed her thighs together and notice a wet patch. “Fuck” Ellie mumbled as the embarrassment came over her. She can’t get this fucking wet just from staring at your clothed boob! That’s the keyword “clothed”. Ellie bit her lip as she hesitated on “helping” the fallen strap to “accidentally” fall even lower down. Resulting in your boob hanging out free. Ellie let out a shaky breath when your harden nipple was bare for her eyes to see. Yep, definitely chilly.....

Even though this was far from the first time she's seen your naked breasts (living together for over four years leads to a lot of topless moments, sexual or not) she couldn't help but feel giggly like a school boy when she did. Her eyes took a quick glance at your face to make sure if she disturbed your sleep by her "action". But you continued to let out the peaceful breath that sometimes helped her succeed in falling asleep (if only for an hour). Taking in your unbothered expression Ellie got the courage to make her next move. She reached out her tatted arm and carefully placed her veiny hand on your exposed breast. She had to bite her lip to not moan at the contact with your smooth skin. But she soon drew it back, quickly, when you started to move. Her cold fingers had shocked you, and even though you're still in sleep, you let out a groan and rolled onto your back. But in your change of position your top had slid down even lower, resulting in both your boobs being free from the fabric.

Ellie´s eyes widened as she eyed not one, but both of your tits. She couldn't help herself. Shortly after she lowered herself and gave your right nipple a feather-light kiss. She groaned before going in harder. Her mind wouldn't let her think straight, too high on the taste of your skin. She continued to suck on your right nippled as she fundled with the other. The feeling was unreal. Without noticing it Ellie started to grind herself against your mattress, her body trying to find a way to release the pleasure she’s feeling. But it wouldn’t work. Ellie let out a frustrated whine at the lack of friction she got, nothing for her poor throbbing clit to attach to. She let go off your nipple, involuntarily, to solve her own “problem”. She lifted up your shared cover to see your bare legs. Ellie carefully lifted her own leg to strangled your nearest thigh. Just the pressure on her sensitive when she lowered herself onto you was enough to draw a moan. But she pulled her sleeping shorts to the side, exposing her wet pussy, before making sure to properly situate herself. Without losing a second she began to grind herself against your soft leg. The firmness she was looking for was found, and she had a hard time shutting up.

Even though she knew she couldn’t be so loud or she’ll wake you up her brain also didn’t want to focus on that. Just the pleasure. A few shaky breaths were leaking out as Ellie rested her head against your shoulder. Her juices soon covered more of your thigh than she thought. For a few seconds she felt embarrassed, paranoid you’d wake up to find her like this. Desperately humping your thigh like a dog. But that thought seem to have vanished from her head when she grabbed both your hips with her long slander fingers, holding on hard as she continued to grind her cunt hard and faster. “Fuuuuuck” Ellie pathetically whined “please, (y/n)………please fuck me”. Ellie grabbed one of your hands and brought it up to her mouth. She stuck out your index and middle finger before putting them in her mouth. Sucking and licking them like her life depended on it.

At one point Ellie couldn’t care enough to even try and keep quiet. She didn’t care if you woke up. In fact, she wanted you to wake up. Cause if you did maybe you’d help her. Letting out a deep groan your fingers fell out of her mouth, covered by her saliva. But Ellie quickly took a firm grip around said hand’s wrist and traced it down her body. When met with the hem of her long sleeved sleeping shirt she made sure to lead your hand underneath it and continued up until your fingertips are met with her hard nipple. Just the feeling of your skin on hers was incredible. Ellie let out another satisfied moan before she puts her hand on top of yours, helping you to palm her perky little tit beneath her shirt. Ellie buried her slightly sweaty forehead into the side of your neck. She tried to keep her eyes open, wanting to watch every single bounce your tits would do due to her intense pace, but the pleasure makes it hard not to let her eyelids drop completely.

Ellie’s eyes soon filled up with tears at the delicious feeling, but also the frustration of not getting enough. You knew her like the back of your hand. Every weakness, everything she liked and didn’t like, you knew it. She needs to wake you up. Ellie made sure to swallow all the spit that was threatening to spill out onto your neck before whining into your ear

“Please help me, baby? I can’t sleep”.

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Author’s Note: I thought this would be A LOT shorter when I started to write it. I do really like making more blur-ish stories, but I clearly can’t do them. Cause I start off writing just the main act, but then I’m like “but wouldn’t it be cool if I added what the reader’s grandmother was like? And what her favorite subject in school was!😃😃”. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this anyways. Even though it’s longer than anticipated (that’s what she said).

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #the last of us #tlou ellie #tlou2 #ellie x reader #the last of us part two #tlou #ellie williams tlou #sub ellie williams #sub!ellie #ellie x reader smut #ellie the last of us

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miinatozakiii · 5 months

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when you kiss me heaven sighs

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff ; wc: 0.9k

synopsis: bad day but warm welcome to make it instantly amazing

a/n: happy birthday to the woman who is the reason i started this account and also the love of my life and um basically my everything :p

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the day was a nightmare, one that you couldn’t wake up from.

your girlfriend had to leave early in the morning for a special meeting at work, so you were left to wake up alone and cold in the empty bed. waking up all puffy and groggy without sana’s breath tickling your neck ruined your mood, and your day could only get worse from here on out.

it did get worse.

on the way to work your tire popped, and because of that you were late to work. your boss is a pretty laid-back person, but it seemed like something had been troubling him with the way he scolded you for coming in thirty minutes past eight. after that nerve racking reprimanding, you walk back to your desk and just when you think things can’t get any worse—ryujin runs into you at the turn of the hall and spills her matcha latte all over you, your white shirt, and beige pants.

you tried to stay positive, but eventually gave up after having to work overtime.

because you can’t drive your own car at the moment, you had to resort to public transport—which, you didn’t really mind, but today it just had to be all full and overwhelming. your bag seems ten times heavier as you carry it while exiting the bus, and as soon as you take a step on the stairs leading to your floor; the bag is thirty times heavier than ever, almost dragging you down with.

somehow, you manage to make it to the apartment without falling over and collapsing. it surprises you that you’re able to scramble for your keys and open the door without another mishap happening today.

as soon as the door opens and you’re able to step inside, a pair of soft lips collides with your own clumsily, missing your own lips at first but soon shifting over to capture them fully. the familiar scent of roses and vanilla urges you to cup the cheeks of the person kissing you and give in to their contact, smiling into the warm welcome.

you pull away just barely to mutter a short “hi lovely” before sana kisses you again, wrapping her arms around your neck and filling your senses with her.

when she pulls away to give you a breather, you get a glimpse of her overjoyed expression and flushed cheeks. she closes in and pecks your lips—short and sweet—before pulling away again. this time her nose brushes against yours, she lingers close to your tired face.

“i missed you.” she mumbles, letting her hand roam down to the base of your neck.

“i missed you way more,” you say quietly, “you left me this morning.”

sana shakes her head, then pulls you into your shared home before you close the door behind you. she lets you set your bag down before taking your hand and pulling you over to the counter of the kitchen.

“i didn’t want to honey.” she defends with a frown. “that meeting was early and boring, i wanted to stay in bed with you. i didn’t see you the whole day because you had overtime too.”

as you lean against the marble, you pull her in by the waist before placing a chaste kiss on her jawline, then pulling away to take in her bare face. you tuck her hair behind her ear and smile at how adorable she looks, there’s something about her like this—something so beautiful in her simplicity.

“well, now we’re here—together.” you assure, “let me shower so we can cuddle and make up for that time we missed.”

“okay,” sana says before leaning in closer with a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “don’t take too long.”

“i won’t, trust me.” you respond before sana locks your lips together again. she pulls away one last time, fighting the urge just to sit there and make out with you. the way she stares at your lips blatantly makes you giggle. “you just can’t keep your lips off me, can you?”

“oh, so you don’t want me to kiss you anymore, is that what i’m hearing?”

“no, no, i never said that!” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “i really, really like your lips, baby. please don’t stop, and ppleeaasssee keep kissing me first thing after work. i had a really bad day.”

she laughs and looks down at the grassy, green stain on your white shirt and fiddles with the fabric of your collar. she smiles at you when she meets your face again.

“nice design,” she teases, “pretty unique, is it designer?”

you lift yourself off the counter and reach for her, letting your fingers graze her rib area and tickle her relentlessly. she attempts to push you off while tears threaten to leak through her pretty eyes, but you don’t let her win that easily.

your lips find their way on her neck and pepper feathery, ticklish pecks all over her soft skin while you continue to wiggle your fingers all over her ribs.

“s-stop! i’m sorry—y/n!” she laughs, voice getting high and airy while she uses her manicured hands to push you away. “s-stop! that tickles!”

you smile after seeing the small tear that leaves the corner of her eye and wipe it away with your thumb, then you kiss her forehead quickly as she recovers from your antics.

“you’re so annoying.” sana lies, shoving your shoulder with her palm playfully.

“you love me.”

“yes a lot,” she admits. “now go shower, i’m not kissing you until you do that.”

#miinatozakiii #sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #minatozaki sana #sana twice #fluff

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 3 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 94

Part 1 Part 93

Will can’t tear his gaze away from Steve. Even as Carol flutters around him, frantic and worried, and Eddie just cries.

Will’s shivering. Mom’s rubbing her hands up and down his arms in quick movements, like she can warm him up. But he is warm. The Harrington’s water heater’s working as good as advertised; the bathroom’s downright sweltering.

He’s just shaking.

“We should get him to the hospital,” Barbara says, crouching down beside Steve and settling her fingers against his pulse. She looks over at Eddie, grimacing, “Probably get all of us looked at.”

Eddie’s sopping wet and bloody, cheekbone swelling, and he’s sitting hunched strangely like something inside him aches. Perkins is similarly scuffed up and bruised, if less bloody. Collectively, they look like a group of disaster victims that barely managed to crawl their way out of the rubble.

Eddie pulls Steve further into himself, hauling himself up with a painful-sounding grunt, Steve cradled in his arms.

Mom lets go of Will, rushing forward to flutter her hands around him. “You shouldn’t be holding him, sweetie,” she cries. “You’re hurt.”

Eddie’s already listing to the side, nearly falling back into the tub until Barbara curls her own arms around Steve, hefting him up.

“I’ve got him,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You’re three seconds away from keeling over dead,” Carols scoffs, leading the way out of the bathroom with sloshing footsteps.

Eddie and Barbara shuffle after her, awkward like they’re hauling an old couch out to make room for a new one. They luckily fit side by side on the stairs, but Carol still walks in front of them, hands raised to catch anyone who tumbles, somehow maneuvering each backward step with ease.

Mom and Will hold up the rear, taking awkward stilted steps to try to stay out of anyone’s way at the slow pace.

The house is lit, fluorescent and quiet, and warm against his cooling skin from the heat Carol had clicked on when they’d arrived. He feels like an ant walking through its opulent, barren rooms, leaving wet, muddy tracks into its pristine carpet.

The gulf between him and Steve seems like a trench. It’s hard to imagine Steve here, small and alone in his nice clean sneakers and his clean, fresh clothes. Everything’s so white, any careless movement could leave a smudge. Will’s house is a second-hand storage bin.

But then again, Steve had left this house hadn’t he? He’d made himself as at home in the Munson’s trailer as Uncle Wayne’s recliner or Eddie’s guitar.

Will’s throat hurts when he swallows, like that time he’d gotten strep and hadn’t been able to go to school for a whole week. He raises his fingers to the tender flesh, feels them like Steve’s hand around his throat.

He wants his Mom, even with her standing right there. He wants Steve even though he’s passed out in front of him and it was his hands–

No. He can’t think like that. He can’t.

The house is the graveyard of Steve’s life. Had he toddled down these stairs as a teenager? Settled onto that couch as a teenager? Hosted parties in that kitchen? It’s hard to picture the rooms full of people, even when he knows it's true.

The rumors of his parties had trickled down even to the middle school.

But it’s so quiet now. Too quiet.

“Mike?” Will calls as they stagger their way into the living room.

No one answers.

“Kids?” Mom calls, rushing around where Barbara and Eddie are clogging up the living room. “Where are you?”

She frantically searches the living room, then kitchen, then opens doors at random, calling through the house for no one who can hear her. Will can almost hear his own disappearance echoing through her desperate words. “Where did they go?” she cries as she dashes back into the living room, eyes frantic and wide.

Barbara snorts. “Doing something stupid would be my guess.” She adjusts her hold on Steve, doing a little jump to shimmy him back up into her arms from where he’d been slipping.

Will bolts out of the house, ignoring everyone’s calls in his mad dash to the van. Harrington's security light turns on, blanketing him in sharp light, briefly blinding him before his eyes adjust.

Max’s step-brother’s car is gone, the only proof that he was ever there a splash of blood on concrete.

The van’s gone too.

Will fishes his walkie talkie out of his pocket, hands fumbling with wet jeans. It’s damp when he pries it free. He wipes it off on his partially dry shirt and compresses the button with baited breath, sighing in relief when the tell-tale crackle of an open line filters through.

His voice is breathless and croaking as he asks, “where are you, are you okay?” all in one breath, finishing with a quick, “over.”

It’s Lucas who replies. “Did it work?”

“He’s back,” Will replies, choking on tears he didn’t realize were flowing.

It’s silent for a moment before Mike’s voice comes through. “What about El?”

Will’s gut churns, throat clicking as he says, “We don’t know yet,” he turns back toward the house, noticing for the first time that the garage door is open, shelves ransacked, odds and ends tossed haphazardly all over the floor. “We have to get Steve to the hospital; did you take the van?”

Everyone else is shuffling out of the house, cries of dismay and alarm coming from them all as they take in the lack of transportation. Barbara asks, “should we call an ambulance?” as she stares dubiously at all of them, frowning at their bedraggled states.

Before anyone can reply, there’s the murmur of too-many voices for the walkie to pick up before Dustin’s voice cuts through it with a vehement “shit,” Max’s own shouted “we’re almost back!” barely intelligible, like she was speaking from too-far away.

“Who’s driving?” Mom cries, running up to Will and looking down at the walkie clutched in his hand like it’ll open its mouth and answer her questions despite the button not even being compressed.

It doesn’t matter – the van comes careening around the corner, and onto the street too fast. It takes the turn into the driveway too wide, running over the Harrington’s perfectly cultivated rose bushes before it screeches to a stop alarmingly close to their fleshy bodies.

Carol laughs when she catches sight of Max sitting in the driver’s seat, looking out at all of them like she belongs there. “I like you, red,” she calls, even as she opens the driver’s side door and shoves her out of the way despite her protests. “You’ve got guts.”

Dustin wrenches the door open, eyes widening as he catches sight of Steve. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

Barbara bullies her way past him, losing her footing and her grip on Steve enough that his head thuds alarmingly into the hard floor of the van despite Eddie’s fumbling to help. They all end up sprawling, Eddie on the van’s ground, Barbara only partially in, feet dangling awkwardly out the open door.

“Be careful,” Eddie snarls, glaring up at where she stands. She doesn’t spare him a glance as she helps get Steve fully into the van. Eddie pulls Steve away from her, almost growling. It’s incongruent with the picture he paints as places Steve’s head gently in his own lap, smoothing his wet hair back from his face.

Barbara ignores the whole thing, moving past them all to claim the passenger seat, brushing past where Max is still crouched by the driver’s seat. Barbara settles into the seat like she owns it, foot up on the dash, knee bent as she turns to lock gazes with Carol.

Dustin’s hovering by Steve and Eddie, hands flitting around like he wants to touch but can’t figure out where it won't hurt anyone further.

Mike and Lucas both stay seated, looking down at Steve with furrowed brows. “Is he going to be okay?” Lucas asks. No one answers because no one knows.

“How’d you even start it?” Carol asks Max, fiddling with the trailing wires Eddie’d used to spark the thing to life.

Max snorts derisively and crosses her arms, dropping to sit criss cross on her butt. “You morons never cut the engine.”

“Enough!” Mom yells, brushing Will’s shoulders gently and easing him forward until he has no choice but to crawl into the van himself. She climbs in beside him, shutting the door with a slam that makes everyone jump. “Carol, dear? Drive.”

She does, pulling out of the driveway with only slightly less reckless abandon than Max used to enter it.

It’s quiet as the van trundles down the road, save for Eddie’s quiet, unintelligible murmuring in Steve’s ears. His ribs must hurt with the way he’s hunched over Steve, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Will stays where he is, sitting on his hands even as he feels Eddie’s gentle pulling, like he needs to know that Will’s still there.

“Did we turn off the water?” Carol asks, cutting through the tension with relaxed ease.

Barbara snorts, “Did we close the front door?”

Will pictures that empty dollhouse with its absent family. He pictures it filling with water, like a fishbowl, like the Titanic. A shrine to all the cruelties that happened there.

“Do we care?” Will asks. Steve’s face looks peaceful in sleep. Almost serene the way it never is when he’s awake.

Carol laughs, manic as she speeds up, van bumping along the road at reckless speeds. “We do not,” she calls vindictively before laughing again.

Will doesn’t take his eyes off Steve.

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Part 95

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #will byers

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heavcnslyre · 11 months

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chapter one - j.f. ( masterlist )

GORGEOUS.

“ocean blue eyes looking in mine,

i feel like i might sink and drown and die”

the air outside was cold, which was shocking for a mid-june morning. you were awake early, as you often were since you preferred to be productive in the mornings, but today it was for a different reason. you had barely slept all night. this morning, you were returning to susannah’s beach house in cousins. you looked forward to this day every year, and it was always just as special every time it came around.

“you all ready?” a voice breaks your silence as laurel peaks her head out the front door, watching you sit on the porch swing. you smile at her.

“definitely,” you say. “coffee on the counter, did you see it?”

she walks over to you and gives you a kiss on the forehead. “i did. thank you. now get your bag in the car, we’ll leave in twenty.”

“can i drive?” you ask, following her inside. she shakes her head.

“already told steven he could.”

as she says it, steven comes down the stairs and ruffles your hair as he walks past you. “sorry!”

“no you’re not,” you grumble, turning away to grab your bags. you had just gotten your license less than a month ago but steven has had his for months, so he usually got first dibs on driving. you usually didn’t mind, but the drive to cousins was special to you, and you would have loved to be able to make the drive yourself. not driving, you thought, would at least give you more time to prepare. although, you would have appreciated the distraction. this year felt different. you felt different. you weren’t really sure if it was a good different or not.

part of you was terrified, for some reason. most summers, you went to cousins completely disconnected from the world back at home. cousins was it’s own world, in your mind. the people, the house, the entire atmosphere, it was magical. it absolutely transported you, and you let it. this year, you had a connection to back home. your boyfriend, peter. you and him started dating two months ago after your best friend cassie introduced you to him, and things have been incredible ever since. if you were honest, you had never really committed to a guy before him, but it seemed to be working out well so far. the reason why you were terrified, you figured, was because this trip to cousins could change that. jeremiah fisher could change that.

you had talked to plenty of guys, even dated a few for a couple weeks or so, but as soon as jeremiah fisher comes around, you lose sight of everything — and everyone — around you. he somehow has that effect on you, and he has your whole life. but you do really like peter, so you told yourself you wouldn’t ruin something good for yourself again, just because you’ve always been waiting for jeremiah. you’ve made a fool of yourself enough over the years, attempting to get closer to him as he flirts with everyone in the world, that you know it was time to change something.

you just hope that you’ll be able to stick to it.

“(y/n),” you’re woken up by your sister belly poking your side, “(y/n), you’re drooling on me.”

you groggily open your eyes and stretch, moving away from her, “sorry bells.”

“s’kay,” she yawns. “we’re almost there, anyways. and your phones been blowing up. all from peter,” she says the last part teasingly, pushing your phone towards you. you laugh as you unlock your phone, seeing that she was right, and peter had texted you seven times.

peter: good morning!!

peter: sorry ik you’ve probably been up for hours

peter: omg and youre probably almost to the beach already

peter: miss u already

peter: there’s a party tomorrow night i was thinking about going to if that’s okay with you

peter: cassie’s gonna be there and stuff and you know i’ll be thinking about you forever so you’d have nothing to worry about

peter: just let me know if you’re comfortable with it okay?

you: oh my peter

you: you don’t need my permission to go have fun!!! of course you can go to the party :)

you: just text me and keep me updated okay? and make sure there’s a DD

peter: of course. you’re the best!

you: 🤍🤍

you smile at your phone and as soon you look back up, you were entering cousins. you didn’t realize how long you had slept for, but as soon as you saw the sign, your heart skipped a beat. you were back. you were back, and everything was good, including your lovely boyfriend back home. this summer was going to be perfect, you just knew it. your fears from this morning were fading and you decided that no matter what happens, you’re going to be okay. you’re going to have a great summer.

“did susannah get a new car?” steven asks as he pulls the car into the driveway of the house. laurel nods, a small smile forming on her face as the house comes into few. the same smile was present on everyone’s faces in the car. this place was so special to all of you.

“yeah, she gets bored with her cars easily,” laurel finally says, a hint of distaste in her voice. “she just likes to change things often.”

steven was barely listening and was halfway out of the car by the time laurel was done talking. his eyes were set on susannah, who was standing at the doorway, watching your car pull in. she looked as beautiful and radiant as ever, and even more so, especially since it was obvious that she was healthier now than she was last summer. her hair got longer and the glow on her face was back, lighting up her eyes and giving her the most approachable demeanor possible. she was perfect.

you get out of the car shortly after steven, and follow him up the steps to hug susannah tightly. she rubs your back as she hugs you. “oh sweet (y/n), you beautiful girl. i’m so happy to see you.”

“i’ve missed you so much,” you say back, and she gives you another squeeze before letting you go and hugging laurel. you look down by the car at steven, who was now talking to jeremiah, who had his back to you. your breath caught in your throat when you saw him, but you shook it off. that was not what this was going to be. he was one of your best friends, your family. that was all. that didn’t stop your heart rate from speeding up the second that he turned around and your eyes met his beautiful, bright blue ones. his face softened as soon as he saw you, but his smile remained just as wide. you move towards him and he watches you, his eyes never leaving yours as you approach him.

“(y/n),” he says, looking you up and down and grinning. “you look different.”

you knit your eyebrows and look down at yourself. “good different?”

jeremiah laughs. “always good.”

you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you into a close hug. you take in his scent, a mix of saltwater and his vanilla cologne, the one that conrad and steven have always made fun of him for. they always say it makes him smell too girly. you have always thought he smelled perfect.

“i have so much to tell you,” jeremiah says as you pull away from the hug. “this summer is going to be amazing!”

“i can’t wait,” you grin. the two of you always spent the first night sitting on the beach after dinner, talking all night. he would fill you in on his school year, and you would fill him in on yours. it usually ended with both of you in the ocean and sandy, but it was always one of your favorite traditions.

as you turn away from jeremiah, belly rushes out of the car and pulls him into a hug and he spins her around. your eyes catch on conrad, who had just rounded the corner of the house, and was staring at them. he meets your eye and smiles sheepishly, knowing that you had caught him. you smile and go pull him into a tight hug. “hey connie.”

“hey (y/n). it’s good to see you,” he says. as you pull apart, his eyes are caught on belly again, who is staring at him this time, too. you smile at the sight and push conrad towards her gently. the corner of his mouth slightly turns up and he walks to her as you walk back over to jeremiah and steven, who were giggling to themselves. when jeremiah sees you walking towards them, he waves you over quickly.

“belly flop time,” he says, a wide grin on his face. you laugh.

“yes!” the three of you walk towards conrad and belly, who were laughing with each other, seemingly in their own world.

“hey, i don’t know about you guys but…” steven pretends to check his nonexistent watch on his wrist. “i think it’s time…for a…belly flop!”

belly squeals as the boys grab her, conrad carrying her by her armpits and the other two grabbing her feet. you giggle and lead the way, opening the gate to the pool and letting them pass through. you and the boys count down from three and they throw belly in the water. you all laugh as she flails around, her clothes completely soaked. your smile fades as the boys turn to you, mischievous smiles on their faces. “no.”

“it’s not fair to only throw belly in there, is it?” steven says innocently. you shake your head and attempt to run away, but before you can, jeremiah has his arms wrapped around your waist and lifts you effortlessly in the air. steven and conrad help him and grab your legs, counting down from three just like they did with belly. she dove out of the way as the boys throw you into the water. luckily, the water was warm, and while the feeling of your wet clothes was uncomfortable on your skin, the water was quite refreshing. belly giggles as you swim towards her and pull her into a hug, but in the hug, you whisper in her ear. “let’s get back at them?”

she nods as if she read your mind, and when you pull apart and begin to approach the edge, she’s suddenly struggling. “wait, wait guys, my ankle.”

“what’s wrong belly?” conrad asks. she continues struggling in staying afloat.

“i…i hurt my ankle i think. i cant walk on it,” she reaches her arm out to conrad. “help me out.”

he reaches out, and as their hands connect she pulls him into the water and the other boys burst out in laughter, jeremiah doubling over in laughter with his hands on his knees. taking advantage of this moment, you grab his hands and pull him into the water too, completely catching him off guard as he falls into the water next to you. now steven is standing on the edge, struggling to breathe from laughing so hard. “no way they got both of you!”

jeremiah flips his hair out of his face and looks up at steven. “c’mon steven, waters nice! you don’t wanna be left out, do you?”

steven shakes his head, still laughing. “i think i’ll survive being left out today. these shoes were expensive.”

“lame!” jeremiah calls out as steven walks towards the house, his laughter still echoing in the air. jeremiah turns his attention to you and swims over to you, grabbing your waist and spinning you around. “i’ll get you back for pulling me in here.”

you laugh. “sure you will. c’mon, let’s go dry off for dinner.”

he hops out of the side of the pool and offers an arm to help you out. he pulls you out of the pool with ease. “race you upstairs?”

“that sounds dangerous,” you say. “wet feet on tile and hardwood floor? with your clumsiness?”

he mocks offense. “you think i’m clumsy? ridiculous.”

“jere, you tripped over a penny on the beach last summer,” you say. “and i don’t think we’ve had a summer here where we haven’t had to bring you to the e.r. from some injury.”

“the sand is trippy!” he claims. “and i just live an adventurous lifestyle. which is why i’m totally beating you upstairs.”

“better catch me first!” you say and immediately take off sprinting, up the stairs to the porch and through the sliding glass doors, which you attempt to close in front of jeremiah, who caught up with you quickly. carefully, you run through the house but the slippery floors really did make it difficult. soon, you’re halfway up the stairs and jeremiah is right behind you, laughing. “you’re such a cheater!”

“i’m just smarter than you!” you yell as you approach your bedroom, which was right next to his. he shakes his head.

“no way. just a cheater,” he grins at you one more time as he enters his bedroom, closing the door behind him. you walk into yours as well, your head spinning from the first thirty minutes you had spent here. jeremiah made everything around you feel insignificant and you felt like you were floating when he touched you. and for the first time in your life, you hated the feeling. you were with peter now. you had to focus on peter, not jeremiah.

it was hard to do that when you were spending the next two months living with him, your rooms right next to each other, and the walls thin enough that you could hear everything in each others rooms. whenever he played music, you heard every word. every conversation, every ounce of laughter, every time either of you cried. it was good, having a close connection to him, but you knew it was just going to make things so much harder.

#tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #tsitp #tsitpbookseries #tsitp cast #tsitp s2 #tsitp conrad #tsitp belly #tsitp spoilers #conrad fisher #team conrad #team jeremiah #jeremiah fisher x you #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah x reader #belly conklin #steven conklin #bria j.f updates

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fadingdaggerr · 5 months

Text

tease and unease

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: (based on following req that was sent w/o anon so they asked for it to be) “I did have a request if you're into it! Reader and melissa have been in a relationship secretly for a while. They have a fight about keeping it a secret right before PECSA weekend (mel wants to keep it a secret and reader does not). So the weekend is filled with mini fights and glaring and lots of drinks to nimb the hurt. Lol Reader gets drunk and dedicates then plays their song on piano in the lobby of the convention center - outing them. A little angsty but with a happy ending? Feel free to change anything you're not feeling and thank you!!”

warnings: very dialogue heavy oops, insecurity, verbal fighting, petty r bc i’m petty, heavy-ish? alcohol consumption, drunk!r

note: just realized that with all my fics i’ve somehow avoided using any pronouns or actually name for r. feel like i’m doing full fledged gymnastics

There is barely a second to answer the question Barbara asked you about a new show you’d started before the lounge door flies open and Janine is excitedly doing little laps around the room chanting ‘PECSA’ as she goes. Even though this is her third time going to the convention, she had been extremely excited. Whether that was because of this year’s presentations or due to last year’s event in the botanical classroom, you can’t tell. Janine’s zoomies end as she catches herself against Jacob’s chair to catch her breath.

“Please- oh my God- please tell me y’all are coming this year?” Janine asks as she’s still breathless from excitement and running a marathon between wobbly tables.

“Considering it’s mandatory,” Melissa says with annoyance in her tone, immediately your foot kicks hers as a silent ‘be nice.’

Janine’s excitement doesn’t falter once, “did you see that they have a whole presentation on which color whiteboard markers are the best for teaching each subject?” Barbara turns at the same time as you, both of you looking at each other with exasperation and a little disbelief on both ends. Melissa is desperately trying not to laugh, her hand under the table gripping your knee with a vice to not burst into a cackle right at her fellow second grade teacher.

The second she got control of her laughter, the hand on your leg was gone like it was burned by your skin through your jeans. When you try to pull her hand back for just an extra second of her touch, her hand shakes yours off as her body leans away entirely.

There is some annoyance that lingers in your chest from this interaction, and it only grows more as you take the long way to Melissa’s house from school because she insists that no one can even see you going in the same direction. Six months of this, driving six extra blocks and not even being able to give unseen affection, and she hasn’t even deemed it a good time to tell Barbara, her best friend. She had just barely allowed you to tell your friends, who didn’t even know the Abbott crew, and still won’t allow even one picture to even have her elbow in it.

As you pull into the driveway, you take a few deep breaths to try to ease this tension that you wish hadn’t begun to fester. Walking in the front door, it was easy to forget all of it when Melissa came down the stairs, nearly slipping in her fluffy socks as she hurried to pull you into a greeting kiss. Her hands hold your face as she peppers your cheeks in kisses, speaking between smacks of her lips against your skin, “you took your sweet time coming inside.”

“Sorry,” you barely get out, reeling your head back to stop the assault from her lips and wrapping your arms around and holding her, “missed you today.”

She laughs from the crook of your neck, “we had prep and lunch together.”

“Eight hours in the same building and I only get you for an hour? That’s not even close to enough,” you say, pulling back to finally take off your shoes. Nothing is quite like the sight of a flustered Melissa Schemmenti, your comment making her cheeks light up the prettiest shade of pink, your second favorite color after the green of her eyes.

As you stood in the shower, hot water practically cooking your skin, the topic of today’s lunch conversation rolled around your mind. PECSA has always been held at a large hotel with so many rooms and several pool spots, maybe this would finally be a social setting where Melissa wasn’t so guarded and actually allowed herself to enjoy time with you that wasn’t solely in the hotel room. Shit, the hotel room, you meant to call and reserve a room two days ago but were stuck grading book reports into the early morning.

“Baby!” you shout as you step onto the bathmat, wrapping a towel around you as you listen for approaching footsteps. When there is none, your voice turns whiny, “Melissaaaa!”

There’s a huff outside the door before it opens, “Jesus, amore, let me get up the stairs. What’s wrong?”

“Please tell me you called the hotel about our room,” you say as you pull her old college t-shirt over your frame, the tattered sleeves soft against the skin of your shoulder, “I meant to call the other night.”

Melissa’s eyes are soft at the view of you in her shirt, a smile playing at her lips before she answers, “yeah. I called ‘em and got the rooms all set, no worries.” Her lips press against your cheek before she walks out the room to head into the bedroom.

A sense of relief fills you, a deep breath leaving your lungs. As you settle into bed, your arm wraps around Melissa’s waist, a kiss as a silent goodnight is pressed to her shoulder, getting the typical hum in response. As you begin to drift off, nudging into the redhead’s back a little, a thought enters your mind. Rooms?

“Wait, ‘rooms’ plural?” you say against her back, but your only response is her light snoring.

—

“Mel baby, we gotta go! We have to check into the hotel at noon!” you call up the stairs as you spin your suitcase around lazily.

“Just leave without me, hon, I’ll meet you there,” she answers from her bedroom.

You frown, “the hell do you mean? I thought we were driving there together, it makes sense.”

“We don’t need anyone seeing anything, you can just get there ahead of me,” you’re a little too shocked at her words to respond before she adds, “oh, and when you get there can you get my keycard for my room?”

Your back stiffens, as does the hand holding your suitcase. Without thinking, you let go of the case and start up the stairs, stopping in the doorway to the bedroom, her back facing away from you as she packs the rest of her hair products, “your room?”

Melissa jumps a little when she hears your voice, smiling as she recovers, “well yeah, amore. Can’t be sharing a room without everyone piecing it together, now can we?”

“Oh, of course, how dare I think anyone can see us within a hundred feet of each other,” your attitude and facial expression make the redhead frown, her arms immediately crossing.

“Don’t be like that, you know that’s not what I meant,” she steps closer, but not much. This conversation has happened only a few times in the last six months. Melissa is a very private person, one that didn’t want anyone in her business, she’d only just let her family meet you a month ago.

You take a step forward, “we can’t drive in together because no one can see us together. We can’t share a room because no one can see us together. I can’t sit next to you at work because no one can see us together. I can’t even drive here the normal way because no one can see us together.” There has never been an instance where you told her she had to shout it from the rooftops, all you wanted was to be close to her. She didn’t even let you two be seen as actual friends, just as tolerated by her, and it was all starting to dig away at you. You stepforward more as you spoke, “so, enlighten me, what do you mean?”

There’s a shift in her posture and face, everything hardens and she becomes more serious. She thinks this tough-Schemmenti-look works on you, but after watching her cry at pet commercials, you can’t be fooled. Despite the confident anger she was showing, there was no response. Without waiting, you turn around and walk down the stairs, leaving with your suitcase in your own car.

The lobby is packed tight, a bunch of underpaid sardines filling every inch of the place, yet it felt incredibly lonely. The front desk gave you your keycard, you didn’t bother with getting Melissa’s, your only goal was to get to your room and lay in the bed until the presentations started tomorrow. You were not going to a whiteboard marker presentation.

However, you did promise Ava you’d go to her presentation on “Being That Girl and That Principal,” so hiding won’t be an option for the next morning. You register that Melissa and Barbara are both in the room as well, but you hope a certain someone doesn’t notice among the crowd that had collected.

Not even ten minutes into the presentation, a warm body is next to you, red hair and perfect eyeliner. You take a deep breath in and sidestep to the left, trying to make space between you, but she closes it again. She turns to look at you, and you pointedly keep your eyes on Ava’s presentation, which is just perfectly lit photos of her around Abbott, which until now you didn’t notice that she had photoshopped out the water damage on the ceiling.

“Are you going to ignore me all weekend?” Melissa mumbles.

You shrug, “I’m surprised standing next to me is even allowed, I thought we couldn’t even be seen near each other.”

“Stop being childish.”

“Don’t think I will,” you reply, turning to walk to the other side of the room.

—

Math-a-ritas, Daiquireads, Sex Ed on the Beach, was it so hard to get a normal ass drink around here? It already took you three tries to get a normal rum and coke before the prepubescent-looking bartender got the damn thing right, but one they did, it honestly isn’t all that bad. What was starting to get bad, however, was the tension between you and Melissa. Being part of her typical group, Barbara insists on the two of you walking around with her, chatting with vendors and teachers from every school, except Addington.

Upon seeing Melissa’s hands white knuckling a glass of wine, Barbara sends a questioning look, only getting a shake of the head in response. She turns to you, almost ready to ask if you can talk to Melissa, but you’re equally sour looking.

Both women watch you down your second drink before getting up, “I’ll be back in a few, just getting another drink.”

“Do you really think you need more?” your girlfriend pipes up.

“Melissa…” Barbara warns, having been stuck in the tension between you two. She’d thought her friend was soft on you, but it was starting to look differently.

You don’t even give her the decency to look at her as you say, “I really, truly do, Schemmenti.”

You don’t return like you said you would, and green eyes are scanning the hall to find your frame. When she catches sight of you, she sees another drink downed and she grimaces. Melissa’s anger starts to fade when she sees you waver a little as you walk-and-talk with Jacob, who finally was attending PECSA-geddon this year. You turn and look in her direction, and she frowns at the instant look of minor resentment crosses your face before you stumble again. Melissa stands and starts over in your direction, ignoring Barb’s gaze.

The redhead reaches you, a hand on your elbow, “hon, you should sit down.”

“Why do you care?” you snap back, pulling your arm away. Jacob’s eyes widen, and Melissa motions to tell him to leave, to which he is quick to listen and goes to Barbara.

“You’re falling over, amore, please sit down,” she pleads through gritted teeth.

You huff and step further back, “stop it, Melissa, someone’s gonna think we know each other.” She wasn’t accustomed to you being so abrasive, even in arguments, usually you were calm and direct, something she could easily mirror when she got too in her own head. Now, you are just drunk, angry, and wanting nothing to do with her, something she never expected to see.

Melissa is growing even more pissed as she watches you finish your fifth drink, your head shaking in that cute way it does when your drink is too strong. You catch her stare, which becomes more of a glare when your eyes meet hers, and you frown. Somewhere between your first and last sip of your fifth drink, you’d gone from angry to sad drunk, and Melissa's disapproving looks were making your eyes burn.

On the third sip of your sixth drink, the realization that a DJ was at the party made you jump excitedly. You stumble through the line, using your conversation partner to keep you upright, you wait to make a request.

“What do you want?” the DJ says without a single ounce of enthusiasm.

You smile anyways, “please, please play this song. It’s one of my girlfriend’s favorites, I don’t know if I’d call it ‘our song,’ but when I hear it I think of her and her pretty eyes and face and hair and hands an-”

“Dude, what is the song?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s Bette Davis Eyes, Kim Carnes,” you laugh out, almost teetering over.

“It’ll play after Kendrick,” the DJ says dismissively, motioning for the next person in line to move forward.

—

There’s a slump in your mood as music fills the room. Where everyone is dancing and laughing, you’re gnawing on your thumbnail as the drinks catch up to you, making you more anxious than carefree. Part of you wants to just disappear to your room, the other part doesn’t remember where that is exactly. A secret third part wishes you got Melissa’s keycard for her so you’d know where she was staying tonight, though you were a tiny bit sure your rooms had to be near each other.

You just barely register the beginning of a rap song as you start to wander the room in hopes of finding someone familiar, just yearning to be with your Abbott people. You’re gripping chairs as you walk around, speeding up as you register Ava’s high ponytail back near the DJ booth. You barely catch her arm, anchoring yourself to the principal.

“Weebles-wobbles, you’re definitely falling down! You better drink some water before your liver gets revenge,” Ava half-jokes as she pushes her cup towards you, “what made you decide to let loose?”

You gulp down the whole water and sigh, “I can’t just have fun?”

“You look downright sad,” she answers with a laugh as you pout. The Kendrick song fades out, and 80s guitar starts to play, immediately making you freeze. You turn slowly towards the DJ with big, scared eyes, you forgot that you’d requested he play this.

The horror only continues when you see him point to you and say, “this song is dedicated to this one’s girlfriend.” If someone decides to sporadically drive through the window and crush you, you thank them right now.

“Girlfriend?” Ava asks from next to you, “you got a girlfriend and you haven’t said shit?”

“Not now, Ava. I think I have to leave.”

“The party?”

“The country,” you answer before ducking your head and walking as Kim Carnes voice plays in the speakers.

Her hair is Harlow gold / Her lips, a sweet surprise / Her hands are never cold / She's got Bette Davis eyes

In your perspective, you’re almost running towards the door, but Melissa sees the stagger in your steps get worse. She doesn’t think about it before she starts weaving through party attendees to get to you faster, no longer caring about her own arbitrary rules. Someone dares step in her way, and they’re pushed roughly, the lyrics of your song were making her work harder to get to you.

She'll turn the music on you / You won't have to think twice / She's pure as New York snow / She got Bette Davis eyes

When the redhead finally reaches you, she’s quick to pull you out of the view of everyone else, and for once it wasn’t for her personal benefit. As she stops moving, she keeps a hand on your arm while you steady yourself. When you turn and look at her, there’s no anger for once, just embarrassment.

She can’t even get a word in before you’re rambling, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell him to dedicate it to you, I just wanted to listen to it and I mentioned that it made me think of you- not like you but you. I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, I didn’t want to ups-”

Arms wrap tightly around your neck, tugging you into her embrace. Your own arms flail for a moment before they wrap around her waist, hands gripping the material of her dress. A hand rubs your back, helping you control your breathing, “I’m not mad at you and I don’t hate you.”

“You’re mad, you just feel bad for me right now,” you murmur into her skin, “you should get back before someone notices.”

Melissa only sighs, loosening her hold on you to pull you in the direction of the elevator. You’re vaguely mumbling about her being fine letting you go, but she stays connected to you. She’s acutely aware that you have no idea where your room is, but it’s next to hers, that much she knows. Melissa leans you against the wall, digging in your pockets for your keycard since she left her purse with Barbara at the party.

“Are you trying to feel me up or rob me?” you joke, or at least she thinks you’re joking since she can barely tell through the slurred laugh you let out. Melissa just smiles lightly before opening your door and shoving you in. She tries to guide you towards the bed, but you stick to her side as if you’re sewn to her.

When she finally gets you all situated, she looks at you to see tears welling in your eyes as you scan her face. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, “what’s wrong, amore?”

You exhale, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m gonna stay right here,” she says softly, thumb caressing your warm cheek.

“No, no. I don’t want you to leave,” you whine, gripping the sleeve of her dress.

She understands what you mean now, and it makes her heart fall in her chest a little. Pulling away, she assures you she isn’t leaving to placate you before going through your suitcase for an extra shirt to wear to bed, knowing that she wasn’t going to leave even if you changed your mind and told her to. It takes about eighty times as long to get you into your own sleep shirt and shorts, but once you’re comfortable, the tears in your eyes fade away.

Melissa tucks herself in behind you, arm wrapping tightly around your middle, though you wiggle and worm around until you’re facing her. A hand comes up and pushes loose hairs away from her face, the look in your eye so soft that she was almost convinced you’d forgotten everything you’d been arguing about.

“Why don’t you wanna tell Barb, or just anyone?” There’s a shyness in your tone as you play with the chains of her necklaces, “I know you wanna be private, but I don’t like being a secret.”

“You’re not a secret, I just like having you to myself,” she tries to appease you, wanting to have this conversation when you’re both sober.

There’s a look she can’t read on your face before you say, “you already have that and so do I, but sometimes I want to show you off. You’re too pretty not to.”

A wry grin crosses her face at your words, the very fragile filter you had was demolished by the rum and cokes. The hand that previously had been occupied by her necklaces was now fiddling with and twirling her hair, your eyes equally trained on the new object of your hand’s attention. Melissa’s attention settled on eyelash on your cheek, she wished it was a good moment to get it so you could make a wish on it.

“I’ll tell Barb,” you move to argue, “not because you’re telling me to, but because you’re right. I want to show you off, get you in some Schemmenti clothes.” Melissa delights in the quiet groan you let out at the proposition of one of her custom jerseys or sweatshirts, her last name marking you as hers. Her own heart skips a beat at the image in her mind.

Your hand moves to her neck and you try to focus your eyes on her face, “only when you’re actually ready. I don’t wanna rush you.”

“No, I’ll tell her once we get back. I don’t need all those math-a-ritas spilling my business to half of PECSA,” she mumbles the last bit, and she gratefully sees you nodding in agreement. Stretching up, you press a kiss to her jaw. And another, then another. Nudging your way into the crook of her neck, Melissa feels your teeth gently chomp at her skin, a squeak leaving her throat at the action.

Your thumb strokes over the faint mark left on her neck that will be gone before morning, a kiss placed over it. The redhead can feel the vibrations of you speaking from her neck, but it’s too muffled to make out. She hums, a barely there question of what you’re saying, and the volume of your grumbles just barely reaches her ears. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

Neither of you answer the wake-up call or attend the continental breakfast the next morning. There’s not even an effort to leave the bed until twenty minutes before checkout where you both parted ways just to pack your things before rushing downstairs to go home. There’ll be a time where you stop driving separately and share stolen looks from down the hallway, and Melissa fully intends for that being over brunch with Barb tomorrow. Tonight, however, she wasn’t planning on letting go of you for even a second.

title is from bette davis eyes by kim carnes (also the song in the fic)

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

Text

Reunion

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: You and Wanda attend your high school reunion.

A/N: This was fun to write. Wanda gets kinda mad. It’s so cute. Part one of the jealous Wanda series.

Warnings: jealousy😈, thoughts of violence, fluff

Going to your 15-year high school reunion sounded unappealing anyway you thought about it. You hadn’t really liked high school because of how stressful it was, and how mean people could be. You didn’t remember it fondly and when the phone call came one day, and the emailed invitation the next, Wanda found you in the kitchen scowling at your computer.

After a long discussion, Wanda had convinced you to at least give it a shot. She’d promised to take time off to go with you, and given that it was almost all the way across the country, it would be a three-day trip. The appeal of spending time away with your wife was much higher than that of going to your high school reunion, but you decided to worry about this later. You’d left Boone with Yelena, and Fletcher would get a couple of visits a day from Steve while you were gone, so they would barely miss your absence.

Right now, as you sit beside Wanda as she drives you through an unfamiliar part of the airport, you’re very confused. You look to your wife who takes off her sunglasses with a sigh before turning down a road that leads dangerously close to the runways.

“Uh, Wands.”

You’re supposed to catch your flight soon, but Wanda had driven you both somewhere that doesn’t seem anywhere close to the terminal. She smiles at you before realizing that you look a little worried, but she doesn’t have to wonder about it long as you voice your concerns hesitantly.

“Why are we here? Don’t we have to catch our flight soon?”

Wanda simply smiles at you as she turns down one last road and pulls into a small garage. You’re too focused on the plane that you drive by and you’re staring at it with an impressed look as Wanda explains what’s happening. You’d told her about your reservations about this trip, and she’d wanted to make everything as stress free as possible for you both. For this reason, she’d dealt with organizing your travel and your hotel room. You were just along for the ride until the reunion.

“We’re here, detka. This is our ride.”

Your head whips back around toward your wife as your jaw drops in bewilderment. You must have heard her wrong because Wanda definitely wasn’t saying what you thought she was. You followed her lead and got out of the car before peeking out of the garage at the damn jet that was not twenty feet from you.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Wanda smirks as she opens the trunk and grabs your bags before handing you your backpack with a smile. She reaches out to push your chin up to close your still gaping mouth, and she can’t help but chuckle under her breath.

“This is one of my planes.”

Wanda walks toward the jet where you now see someone is coming out to meet her. He looks like a pilot, but you can’t even comprehend this right now as you chase after your wife. You had so many questions, but the first one that you asked was arguably the most relevant.

“What do you mean you have a jet?”

Wanda smiles before she grabs your hand so you can meet the pilot and then the small three-person crew that will be with you on this flight. They offer to take your luggage, and you’re too stunned to protest as you follow Wanda up the stairs into the plane you’ll apparently be taking to Miami.

“It’s not just mine, or ours rather, but I made sure we could use it so we can enjoy the trip.”

Wanda leaves out the little detail of her not being able to fly commercially like you. She’s a known criminal and she’s pretty sure that if she stepped into the airport with the intent to ride on a passenger plane, they’d refuse if not arrest her for simply trying. Seeing your wide eyes and the awe in your expression, she realizes that this was a good choice. She doesn’t think you’ll mind this surprise as you take in the small yet somehow spacious interior that looks more comfortable than anything you’ve ever sat on.

“Oh my God.”

There are sets of four seats that are divided into two groups on each side of the plane. The leather recliners are paired with tables that have drinks already set up. There are also two televisions on each side with charging stations beneath, and you can’t stop yourself from sitting down in the nearest chair. You turn to your wife with a stunned expression that you’ll probably wear for the entire trip.

“This is amazing, Wanda. Were you ever going to tell me about this?”

Wanda just shrugs as she takes off her coat and sits down beside you with a smile. She just wanted you to enjoy your weekend, and as she says this you can’t help but kiss her. She’s so sweet and you can’t wait to go on this trip with her. It’s been too long since you’ve had quality time alone and although reuniting with the high school mean girls wasn’t something you were excited about; you at least were going to enjoy the ride.

The 4-hour flight seems to fly by and when you and Wanda leave the plane you almost wish it had been longer. You and Wanda arrive to the hotel that she’d booked and you are once again surprised by Wanda’s choice. It’s very reminiscent of the one you two stayed in during your honeymoon, and you’re already recalling how much fun that was as you and your wife step into the elevator.

“So? How’s the trip so far?”

Your wide smile is enough of an answer for Wanda, but she doesn’t complain about you offering you a verbal response as well. You are the only ones in the elevator so you don’t resist the urge to kiss your wife appreciatively. You sneak a hand in her hair, careful not to knock off her sunglasses on her head as you deepen the kiss with a sigh.

“It’s perfect, Wands. Thank you for this.”

Wanda’s hands squeeze your hips before she buries her face in your hair. She turns so she can kiss your neck before leading you off the elevator as soon as you reach your floor. The top floor.

“Of course, detka. I want you to enjoy this weekend, and not stress about the mean girls. I promise I’ll beat them up if they look at you wrong.”

You laugh as you follow Wanda into your room that resembles the rest of the hotel in its extravagance. You see your bags in the room already so you just hurry over to the king size bed and fall face first on it with a sigh. This weekend is proving to be unpredictable, but luckily, it’s in a good way so far. Hopefully this will continue to be the case as the reunion rolls around, but you have no real way of knowing.

Wanda comes to lie down beside you, and you adjust so you’re more comfortable and able to put an arm around her. You know that regardless of what happens tomorrow, you’ll have Wanda by your side and you couldn’t be more grateful for this. You appreciated your wife’s support and despite the fact that you would not let her beat up anyone for you, it was nice to hear that she would be in your corner. You hadn’t seen any of these people in nearly 15 years and you were nervous to say the least.

You hadn’t been popular in high school, but despite keeping to yourself you knew that you’d be recognized. You had no idea how people would remember you but you hadn’t been out of the closet then yet, so maybe some of them would be surprised to learn Wanda was your wife. You weren’t ashamed of anything, but you’d rather talk about how much you loved being a vet and maybe see some people’s puppy pictures. However, you were going to take what you could get, and not worry too much about it. You’d prefer anything to having to talk about Wanda’s less than legal career because that could definitely get dicey.

“Thank you, Wands.”

The rest of the day is mostly spent in bed ordering ridiculously expensive room service. You didn’t want to go out much before the reunion and Wanda understood. You were anxious and you’d rather just hang out, and luckily for her you were in the mood for sitcoms and cuddling. Her two favorite things. It wasn’t until you fell asleep that night that Wanda considered how tomorrow would go for you two.

She wasn’t too worried about being recognized because anyone that knew her there would have a secret of their own to keep. She supposed she was mostly wondering how meeting your former classmates would go. You’d never told her much about your time in high school, but from what she’d gathered you were more studious than social. You mentioned friends occasionally, but you didn’t really keep in touch with them anymore. You only talked to vet school friends every now and then, but never high school.

She wonders if you really wanted to go to this or if you felt guilted into it. Wanda sighs as she lies down next to you to finally go to sleep. It’s nearly midnight and she’s just been watching you sleep for the past hour. She supposes she should try to get some rest. Tomorrow will surely be exhausting with how much you’re going to have to socialize.

This is what you’re thinking about as you and Wanda arrive at the venue where the reunion is being held. You try not to cringe as you see the large banner that says ‘Welcome back class’. You’re regretting your decision to come here, but you choose to focus on the food you’ll hopefully get to eat and your beautiful wife that’s accompanying you. She’s wearing a dress that should make you jealous, but instead you’re proud to show her off to your former classmates. The dress isn’t overly revealing, but the black accentuates her assets and is complemented well with her bright red hair.

“Are you ready for this, my love?”

Wanda smiles as she takes your hand and leads you into the building. You come up on a table quickly and see it’s full of sticker name tags that you’re going to have to stick to your shirt. You smile at the unfamiliar woman sitting behind it. She’s blonde and you definitely could buy that she used to be a cheerleader, but you can’t be sure. You’re certainly not going to ask.

“Hi there, welcome! Let me try and guess?”

You don’t get to respond and you just watch as the blonde looks at the names in front of her curiously. You are actually surprised when she guesses right and you accept it with a small smile before Wanda’s handed a blank tag to fill out with her name.

“I remember you, Y/n. You dated my friend!”

You’re a little confused by this and when Wanda stops in the middle of writing her name you realize she is too. You don’t get to ask ‘Hannah’ for clarification before two other couples come in behind you and force you to move on. You just shake your head as you hold Wanda’s hand and whisper under your breath.

“I have no idea who she was talking about.”

Wanda just laughs at this as she follows you through the hall to the ballroom. The sound of a room full of people chatting makes you tense a little, but Wanda squeezes your hand and offers you a reassuring smile. You take a deep breath before kissing her cheek and leading her the rest of the way to the open doors.

“Let’s do this.”

You were optimistic to say the least about how this day was going to go. You’d believed that it would be fine and you could just mingle with your old friends and try to kill time. This had worked out for the first half hour, but then the group you’d been talking to decide to venture off to talk to others. You’re fine with this and after bidding them goodbye you look to Wanda with a smile.

This was all a little anticlimactic if you were being honest. Given who you were, you’d feared that something dramatic and uncomfortable would happen to you. However, you and Wanda had chatted and actually had a decent time catching up with your old acquaintances. You’d introduced your wife and told everyone that she was in sales. Something boring-sounding but potentially lucrative, yet not specific enough for anyone to try and look her up.

“Thank you for coming with me to this.”

You say this a little while later when the two of you are alone with your snacks. You’re sipping on your drink when Wanda takes one of your hands with a smile. She’s glad that she came here with you. She can tell that you’re less on edge and you’re almost enjoying yourself when someone new comes up to you.

Wanda hadn’t seen the other redhead here as she’d glanced around casually while you talked to your friends. She was pretty and Wanda hates this fact as soon as she realizes who she is or rather was to you.

“Dr. Y/L/N. Look at you all grown up! You somehow look even better than the last time I saw you.”

The urge to crawl into a hole and die overwhelms you as you force yourself to swallow what you’re chewing before you turn toward the familiar voice. You were torn between horror that you’re running into her, and shame at the fact that you’d forgotten about her existence up until this moment. As you turn around to face her you have to stop yourself from doing anything other than smiling.

She looks as good as you remember, albeit briefly forgot, and you meet her blue eyes before looking away to her shirt to remind yourself of her name.

“Jessica. Hi. I didn’t expect to see you here!”

It wasn’t exactly a lie given that you’d forgotten a majority of high school due to the sheer amount of stress it had caused you. Your tactic had been to repress whatever you didn’t want to remember which ended up being most of it. This happened to include your brief, trivial fling with the redhead in front of you.

She’s smiling at you still as she leans in for a hug that you feel obligated to give. You try to keep it short and you bounce uncomfortably on the balls of your feet as you watch Jessica shrug as she looks around the room.

“Of course! How else am I supposed to catch up with everyone. I knew for sure it would be the only way I’d ever see you again.”

Wanda notices that your smile is a little pained, and she doubts this could indicate anything good. She doesn’t have much time to consider this further before you’re reaching out for her and looking between her and the redhead who’s still staring at you.

“Jessica, this is Wanda, my wife. Wanda, Jessica was one of my friends.”

It would have been too lucky for this introduction to go unchallenged. You could feel the color drain from your face when Jessica laughs as she reaches out to shake Wanda’s hand. You can tell she’s confused and you want to explain, but not here and now.

“Mostly friends, sometimes with benefits.”

Wanda’s eyes widen when the other redhead says this, and she can’t help but frown as she turns back to you. You hadn’t told her about any relationships you’d had, other than that short stent with the guy you went to prom with. You take a deep breath before releasing an uncomfortable laugh that seems to spur Jessica on. You take a moment to look at her, and you see that she doesn’t have a ring on her finger. This could mean many things, but unfortunately for you it means that she feels free to flirt with you. Despite the fact that you’re wearing a wedding band and your wife is holding your hand, she’s bolder than you’d feared.

“It’s so good to see you! I hate that we lost touch.”

You run a hand through your hair yanking a good bit of it out as you use work as an excuse. It’s a valid one considering how busy you’d been, but you also hadn’t said a word to Jessica in person or otherwise since graduating high school. She couldn’t have forgotten this.

“Yeah, school was just crazy and now work is crazy.”

You talk a little bit about work when she mentions that she’d read that you were a vet. You ask what she does in return and you listen to her marketing spiel before realizing that Wanda’s near frozen beside you. She’s watching Jessica carefully as she speaks to and continues to ogle you. She’s amazed by this woman’s boldness; her blatant disregard for her presence as she looks at you like she’s imagining you naked.

“I bet you’re amazing at that. You were always so passionate.”

When she reaches out to touch your arm Wanda considers smacking her hand away. She looks to you as you let her do it for only a split second before stepping away. You tug at the hem of your shirt needlessly before covering your discomfort with a cough.

“Ahah thanks, um. If you’ll excuse me.”

You run off before either redhead can stop you and they just frown in unison before turning their attention back to each other. They’re sizing each other up and it’s fairly obvious to any onlooker as Jessica’s frown deepens before speaking up.

“So how long have you and Y/n been married?”

Wanda doesn’t need to think about this at all and she tells Jessica the truth. She has to remind herself to take comfort in the fact that she’d been with you for years, and you’d never once mentioned her.

“For 5 years, but we’ve been together since before she started vet school.”

Jessica nods before she looks toward the doorway that you’d disappeared through before grinning at your behavior. You’d always been a skittish thing until she got you alone, and it was then that you’d find your confidence. She remembers the time she spent with you fondly, and despite wanting to rehash some of that, she has a feeling this won’t happen since Wanda’s here.

“She did always have a thing for redheads.”

Wanda’s still scowling when you return from bringing the car around. You’d wanted to flee and you considered taking Wanda with you but she hadn’t followed you so you decided to just make it quick. You ran back into the building hoping to avoid any drama, but seeing your wife near glaring at Jessica’s smug expression, you realize you’re too late.

You walk back over to them quickly and reach out for your wife’s shoulder with a smile.

“Wands, are you ready to go?”

She doesn’t hurry to respond as she considers what you could have seen in this woman. Beyond her looks, Jessica is pretty intolerable and Wanda opens her mouth to say this when you cut her off. You’d seen the look in your wife’s eyes and you knew that things were about to get ugly if you didn’t get her out of here now.

“Jessica, sorry to run off but we have a flight to catch. It was nice seeing you.”

Two minutes later you and Wanda are sitting in a suffocating silence as you drive back to the hotel. You hadn’t bothered to say goodbye to anyone else because you were mostly worried about your wife. You’d made such a hasty exit that you wondered what rumors were spreading, but that thought is cut short by Wanda’s voice.

“Why didn’t you give me a heads up about her?”

Your grimace isn’t missed as Wanda turns to watch you come up with a response while trying to focus on driving. You hadn’t been able to think of an answer to this question that wasn’t more annoying than Jessica, but you didn’t have a lot of time or the courage to come up with a lie.

“I forgot about her, Wands.”

The responding scoff is probably paired with an eye roll you don’t see as Wanda crosses her arms in annoyance. She hadn’t thought that today would go like this. You’d given her no reason to believe that things would go so sideways, and that’s part of the problem and the reason why she’s ticked.

“Bullshit. You didn’t forget about her, Y/n.”

You open your mouth to protest but you realize you have no excuse so you just stay silent. Wanda seems to get more annoyed at this and she huffs in exasperation as you pull into the hotel parking lot.

“How could you? It sounded like you had a really nice time together.”

The sarcasm in Wanda’s voice makes you cringe in realization. You’d really fucked up and in more ways than one. Not only had you neglected to tell Wanda that you had a friend with benefits in high school, but you’d also just let her flirt with you right in front of your wife. You’d be mad too which is why you’re not surprised when Wanda gets out of the car and storms towards the elevator in silence.

“Wands, come on. I was just a kid it didn’t mean anything.”

She’s just angrily pressing the button for the elevator when you reach out for her only for her to jerk away. She watches the elevator crawl down to their level with an inaudible sigh. She really wishes that they’d just stayed in bed today.

“Well, you didn’t rush to tell her that did you? You just let her fucking flirt with you.”

The ride up to the room is made in silence, and you’re almost afraid that Wanda won’t let you go in as she practically storms out of the elevator.

“I’m sorry, it made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to risk her saying more.”

You realize too late that this is admitting to remembering something about your time with Jessica and Wanda zeroes in on this immediately. She opens the door to the room before turning to watch you sweat as she backs up.

“More about what, exactly? What more do you remember, detka? “

You’d like to lie down and cry right now because you’d almost been having fun. You’d been starting to think that it was a good thing that you’d come out here to see old friends, and then this bullshit happened. Sure, maybe you’d liked Jessica a little in high school, but that was 15 years ago. You’d moved on and had an amazing wife and you loved the life you shared with her.

“I remember that we had meaningless sex in the theater changing rooms. However, it’s not something that I’d ever want to think about because it wasn’t memorable.”

Wanda scowls at the confirmation that you’d had sex with the other redhead, and she can’t help but hate that she’d had you first. She knew it was irrational. You’d been in high school around the same time as her, but on completely different sides of the country. You would have never met her at that time.

“I also have it way better now because I’m married to my wonderful wife.”

Wanda sighs in frustration before she turns and walks over to the bed with a frown. She sits down on her side and crosses her arms and legs as she watches you follow her tentatively. She is mad at you for not telling her about this sooner, but unfortunately, she’s starting to forgive you for that. However, she’s still pissed that you hadn’t said anything to deter her from flirting with you, and she wants to remind you of this.

“I shouldn’t have had to watch her flirt with you.”

You’re nodding before Wanda’s even finished speaking, and you creep toward the bed as your wife continues. She’s shooting you a look that makes you want to agree to anything that comes out of her mouth. She’s furious and you don’t want to ruin the rest of your trip because of your stupidity. She watches as you kneel at the edge of the bed and just wait for any indication that you’re not welcome.

“You’re mine and you should have told her that.”

Again, you nod furiously in agreement as you do your best to placate your wife. You need her to know that she’s right, and that you will always be hers; never anyone else’s.

“I know, you’re right. I’m yours.”

Wanda’s eyes darken and she stares at you for the longest time before she lays back against the pillows behind her. She doesn’t want to fight with you about this. However, she’d love to teach you a lesson that will hopefully prevent you from doing something like this ever again. Her arms are still crossed as she watches you fidget nervously, and a smile creeps onto her lips as she decides what your punishment will be.

“Prove it to me then.”

Your head snaps up and you meet your wife’s hard gaze with a puzzled look.

“What?”

Wanda’s smile widens as she leans forward and takes a moment to look you over. You’re tense and flushed and Wanda has a feeling you’ll be very compliant given that you feel guilty for not standing up to your ex-friends with benefits or whatever she was. She plans on taking advantage of this, just so long as you’re game.

“Prove to me that you’re mine and I’ll forgive you.”

To be continued...

Masterlist

#silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au #mob au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you

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the-phantom-author · 2 months

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Hasan developing dad instincts very early on.

He's always had good reflexes when it came to taking care of you. Covering edges on tables and counters when you bend down to get something and almost hit your head on them. He always manages to catch and stabilize you when you stumble on stairs.

This just increased when you got pregnant. He somehow always knows when you were about to throw up, and be able to get you a bucket or bowl of some sort to puke in. He could tell when you got to uncomfortable and/or exhausted while standing and talking to my people, and he'd find a place for you to sit and rest for a bit without making it a huge scene.

However after the twins are born, he's reflexes are unheard of levels of insanity. He is truly in a perpetual state of catching pacifiers and blankets, before they can hit the ground. As they start crawling and walking he's is always ready to nosedive in the family room, because those two will absolutely tumble off of it. He has absolutely blocked peas from hitting you that the boys flung your way, he's just walking through the kitchen when he sees the pea in air and Hasan just sticks up his hand and stops the ones that would have hit you.

The twins absolutely convinces baby girl Piker to climb trees with them way before she's big enough to do so safely, and she gets stuck up there. Hasan walks through the backyard to ask the two of them a question, and doesn't see baby girl Piker at all. As soon as he starts to ask the boys where she is, she slips and falls out the tree. Hasan hears it and just barely manages to catch and break her fall.

#mmmmmmmm.....#dad!hasan thoughtsv #hasanabi x reader #hasan x reader #hasanabi #dad!hasan

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

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maybe as Viserys health begins to fail Sickly!Brother’s health begins to strengthen. and the brother thinks it’s some sort of twisted joke from the gods but the families are too busy relishing in the fact he can walk more the ten feet without loosing his breath or get down the stairs without coughing a lung out.

the servants swear Alicent had whiplash the first time she saw Sickly!Brother jogging through the royal gardens in a only a pair of shorts and footwraps

I can’t help but imagine people thinking that there is actually something correlating Viserys and the Reader’s drastic changes in both their health. Like, maybe there’s a rumor that Alicent or Daemon sought out a witch who through dark magical means intertwined the Reader and Viserys’ souls somehow resulting in one falling weaker and deteriorating while the other grows healthier and stronger as the days go by. Whether it’s true or not people are completely taken aback at the miraculous change in the Reader, even Viserys is shocked but he’s happy to be seeing his beloved brother getting to live and experience life the way he should have been able to all along.

Viserys would find amusement in his last moments about the whole absurd rumor of him and the Reader being intertwined somehow. He would contentedly tell anyone that he gladly accepted his fate if it meant his brother got to live the life he had been so cruelly robbed of all these years.

Meanwhile, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Daemon and Rhaenys have never seen the Reader look or be so lively as he is now. They’ve all watched as the Reader slowly regained strength, getting to a healthier weight, being able to stand for longer periods then getting to walk without any assistance. The whole thing is surreal to all of them but they couldn’t be happier. Alicent of course is there every step of the way helping the Reader in whatever way she can and being one of the first people to witness his recovery.

You can’t imagine the pure shock and panic that fills everyone when they first witness the Reader working out or sparring in some way. Alicent damn near faints from seeing the Reader shirtless, especially since his body is forming more muscle mass and said muscle is defining itself in certain places. Basically, she can’t handle how sexy her darling is becoming and nearly passes out from a nosebleed because of it. Sir Criston Cole is barely able to catch her right before she falls to the ground and smacks her head open (he totally was checking Reader out too). Everyone would be running around trying to get the Reader back into their bed or at least to a chair so they can take it easy, meanwhile Daemon is completely filled with pride at seeing his younger brother bettering himself and making the most out of his second chance at life.

Also, I can’t help but imagine knights, Kingsguard men, and servants at King’s Landing all chasing after the Reader who is half naked jogging around and working out. They’re all trying to cover him up and get him somewhere safe and make him take it easy on all the physical activity he’s trying to do. Alicent would also be chasing the Reader down to cover him up and save him from all the predatory eyes feasting over him if it weren’t for her nearly passing out every time she catches sight of him shirtless. It was one thing seeing his body when she would tend to him when I was still sick but now that it’s defining more she can’t handle it.

Given that the Reader is healthier now, able to move around more freely from the confines of his bedchambers without the worry of him overstimulating his lungs or needing to take a rest every few minutes due to his legs giving out in him, and now that he’s shaping himself up he’s gaining more attention than he’s ever had before. Especially from the female variety and Alicent couldn’t be more appalled by it. How dare anyone even think they could have a chance with her darling?! Were any of them there for him, taking care of him when he couldn’t even lift a spoon up to feed himself? Were any of them there to witness his worst moments and feel the sheer heart wrenching fear whenever his health dropped? No, no they weren’t! No one but Alicent was there for him all this time, not anyone else and certainly not those imbecile ladies of the court or the servant girls. She was the only one there for the Reader and she would be the only to continue being there for the Reader. Meanwhile, Daemon is already plotting who to betroth the Reader to to get him away from Alicent.

Also, now that the Reader is healthier he can move to Dragonstone with Rhaenyra and Daemon or even go to Driftmark with Rhaenys and Corlys. Or hell, the Reader may even just take off on his own and adventure around the Seven Kingdoms or the free cities and see the world that he’s only read of in his books.

#anxious answers #yandere alicent hightower #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #yandere game of thrones #yandere house of the dragon concept #yandere game of thrones concept #yandere concept

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camywamycam · 1 year

Text

what was left behind in the rubble P.1

1,092 words

soon to be harry x reader

summary: you moved in with your father Sirius Black from California two months ago and he completely ignores you when Harry arrives for your birthday your adoptive father visits you and hell breaks loose.

you never knew your mom, right after you were born she left. you were only two when your father supposedly left too or at least that was what you were told. you were adopted by a nice muggle man named Joel and moved to America, you grew up with him since you had no other family and the ministry refused to give you to Remus. Joel was and is your best friend. most people wouldn't say that about their parents but you always did. he taught you how to skate, how to surf, and how to play lacrosse. during the school year, you attended Ilvermorny and during the summer you attended muggle school. you had friends and family there and everything was great until a giant man appeared at your door and somehow convinced your dad to send you to a school in Scotland. you were going into your 4th year and it was still summer? why did you have to go now? and on top of all of that, you would have to go through being a new kid all over again so you were very so not excited. you walked down the stairs holding your heavy suitcase and sat it at the front door so you could beg your dad not to send you. "Dad, what would I even do in Scotland? what if I get kidnaped? I don't know anyone there please don't send me there I can barely understand British people ill never be able to get the hand on Scottish accents what about my band!" the giant man stared at you and your father, obviously confused by your California English " you have to go it's only for a few months you will be back in no time" you dad said comfortingly "er I believe we've ought to be goin' now" the giant man said in a thick accent as you picked up you bags and looked at your dad for the last time as the man apperated the two of you in front of two buildings.

you watched in shock as a third building appeared and the man just walked in casually with you trailing behind him. Once you got inside you noted the darkness of the house, it all seemed very gloomy. the giant man walked into a dining hall as you stood behind him still holding your suitcase. "go on, introduce yourself don't be shy" the giant said in a hushed voice loud enough to be heard by everyone. "um..hey" you said not sure of what to say as Hagrid stepped to the side making you able to be seen. the adults looked at you as if you had a fish head and the children just sat there confused, then one of the women at the table jumped up and hugged you tightly "Oh you poor dear!" the ginger woman shrieked as she suffocated you, were all Brits this friendly? you looked at Hagrid with a look that screamed help me and he gently pried Mrs. Weasly off of you. She clasped her hands together "You look just like your father" she said with glassy eyes. you looked around the table confused "Is there something going on that I'm not aware of or something?" you said exasperated. a dark-haired man cried into the shoulder of a brown-haired man whose face was littered with scars. Hagrid looked at you confused "You don't know?" "know what!?" Hagrid leaned close to your ear and whispered "That's yer dad" There was a beat of silence and the children looked as if they were just now hearing about this. "what. the. fuck.

that was three months ago. you met your dad and for the first few days things were rocky but nice, until some kid named harry potter showed up lightning scar and all. it hurt that your dad had literally forgotten about you five days after meeting you but you didn't care, you still had Joel. what pissed you off though is that you couldn't go home for your birthday and spend it with your friends. so now here you were, in a room that isn't yours scrolling through your phone and liking all your friend's birthday posts they tagged you in. You planned on calling them later on. you received a text from your dad (you call Joel's dad and Sirius by his name) telling you to come downstairs. maybe he sent me a gift? you thought as you walked downstairs in your pajamas. to your surprise there was Joel holding a strangely wrapped present. he looked kind of different, he hadn't shaved. "Dad!" all the people in the room who had seemingly been interrogating him looked at you with shock as you jumped off the stairs and attacked him with a hug "I missed you too sugar cube!" Joel said ruffling your hair. The two of you broke apart and you ignored the stares of the people around you and the glare Sirius was giving "how did you get here! when did you get here? how long are you staying?" you rambled on as Joel laughed at your excitement "I got here a good 4 minutes ago and I think I might stay a day or two" you smiled impossibly wider and hugged him again. " actually I would prefer you left today." Sirius said pissy as hell. you ignored him knowing it's better to ignore him when he's petty like this. you weren't surprised that the people in the room were shocked, Remus, Molly, and some others had been trying to connect with you for a while but you had been so closed off they assumed you liked to be left alone and left it at that, but now you were ecstatically jumping around this strange American man like you were insane. "hey you still haven't opened my present!" Joel said prying you off him, obviously not comfortable with the attention you were bringing towards him as if the people couldn't be more shocked when Joel said "Happy birthday kid!" the entire room went silent and everyone looked at Sirius as he looked like he was going to faint. you ripped open the package and almost fainted yourself when you spotted a new board with the grip tape already on. "holy shit thanks Dad!" and with that, Sirius fainted.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x daughter!reader #angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter angst #remus lupin x reader platonic

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vosh-rakh · 4 months

Text

3e634, chapter 1

"I'm sorry, the Temple of Dibella is closed,” the priestess said. “You can receive your blessing, if you wish, but the other sisters are in seclusion."

Malekaiah frowned. She looked around anxiously at the alien masonry of the temple’s interior. The four statues of nude Dibella resting against the pillars kept their gazes resolutely forward, ignoring Malekaiah’s plight. She pressed her fingertip hard against the point of her tusk, a bad anxious habit she’d long ago acquired. The tusk was too dull to draw blood, but one could hope.

Finally, her eyes alighted on the shrine against the wall, its points rising like flower petals towards a central space, and she was given the courage to look back at the priestess. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice quavering, but somehow she pushed on. “I’ve been an acolyte of Dibella all my life. I’m on an important mission to spread her love to those who have never known it.”

“I’m sorry, sister.” The priestess offered a small smile as compensation. “The sisters cannot be disturbed.”

Malekaiah looked up at the brass chandelier on the ceiling, and closed her eyes briefly. “Okay,” she said, nodding, but avoided the priestess’s pitying gaze.

The priestess nodded, and returned to her cleaning.

Malekaiah approached the shrine to Dibella. She gently placed a hand on one of its dull red wings, trying to feel for Dibella’s energies. Then she knelt, clasped her hands, bowed her head, and prayed.

Please, sweet Dibella, I beseech thee: grant me the power and wisdom to see thy love and beauty in every facet of this world, so that I may spread the knowing to those who know only sorrow and ugliness. Let thy kiss become my kiss, lips sweet enough to embrace the world.

Malekaiah couldn’t remember how the prayer was supposed to end, so awkwardly she cut it short there. Unclasping her hands, she rubbed her face, trying to bring some heat to her cheeks, and rub some wakefulness into her eyes. It was so cold here, in Skyrim, and she had barely slept on the long carriage ride from Anvil to Markarth. She had a long journey ahead of her, and she needed to be prepared.

Almost on instinct she quickly felt for the short steel hiding under her ochre robes. Yes, Da’s dagger was still there. Even in this foreign place, it brought her a strange sense of safety.

Malekaiah rose and walked out the temple door. She was immediately faced with the western mountain enclosing the city, waterfalls cascading down the cliff with a deafening roar, flowing into the waterways that ran down the city’s streets. Behind those falls stood proud and ancient the bizarre stone-and-brass architecture of the dwarves, yet as ordinary to the people here as timber and brick.

After a moment of awe, Malekaiah drifted left along the stone walkway, skirting south around the pillar which the temple of Dibella crowned. Down a level of the city, straddling one of the rivulets, was a small smithy, jarringly built of wood. Over the roar of the waterfalls rang out the sharp clang of hammer on metal, and a woman shouting at her apprentice with very colorful language. Turning her head to the left, Malekaiah saw the distant silver mines, crawling with hard-at-work miners, seeming from this far away like ants carrying their burdens of ore.

Malekaiah descended the stairs, making her way down from the temple. They led her closer to the smithy, where she caught a glimpse of the smith. She was an Orc, which stopped Malekaiah in her tracks. There were very few Orcs in Anvil; most had left for bustling Orsinium about a decade or two ago. Despite going to their homeland to proselytize, she didn’t know much about her race. She had read as much as she could about them and their history and ways before leaving, but most of the sources she was able to get her hands on were outdated and often very bigoted.

The smith must have felt Malekaiah’s gaze, and she looked up at her with a scowl. She waved her off with a hand holding an unfinished sword.

Malekaiah quickly turned to continue on her way, but in so doing she ran straight into one of the city guards. He reached for the sword on his hip. “Watch where you’re going, outsider!” he shouted.

“Sorry,” Malekaiah quickly mumbled. The guard, seemingly dissatisfied but uninterested in an actual confrontation, pushed Malekaiah aside and continued on his way.

Malekaiah rubbed her shoulder where the guard had pushed her and looked again at the smith, who had apparently seen the whole thing. She shook her head at Malekaiah and went back to her work.

A bit shaken, Malekaiah continued descending the stairs, following one of the rivulets. She reached for the talismans around her neck. First, the amulet of Dibella: she rubbed the violet stone in the center of the metal flower. It was cold, but it gave her some comfort, anyway. Her hand roamed across her neck to the other talisman, the strange icon left in her swaddling cloth when her parents abandoned her in Cyrodiil. She could feel its rageful face, teeth and tusks bared, and a fuming heat flooded her face. She let go, shook her head, and tried to forget about the encounter with the guard.

Malekaiah continued along the stone path through the city, hoping to find an inn where she could stay the night. Instead, she found herself at the front gate again, faced with the small market situated there.

The square was bustling with activity, a dense crowd - surely half the city - swarming from stall to stall, gawking at and haggling for the goods on display. The few children who could pry themselves from their mothers’ watchful eyes ran through the forest of legs, squealing like pigs.

Something caught Malekaiah’s eye. A gleam of silver, or steel. Her vision snapped to the stall on the far end of the market, selling jewelry. A woman was trying on a prospective purchase.

But there was something else, a man pushing through the crowd, the sun shining in his hand.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The woman removed the necklace. The man grabbed her mouth from behind. He raised his shining hand and jerked it across her neck, right where the necklace was a moment ago. Blood sprayed on the silver on the stall’s counter. The woman behind it, her face also spattered with red, covered her mouth and screamed.

Just as the crowd began to react to the shriek, the assassin turned around, still holding up the now-mute and struggling woman by her chin. Her head was nearly severed, so vicious and deep was the spurting gash.

“The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!”

The throng devolved into chaos, women and children screaming, men shouting and shoving to escape. There was only one guard nearby, somehow, and he was slow to react, ineffectually trying to push his way through the crowd.

Malekaiah was frozen, staring at the gore of the wound. The man dropped the woman after she stopped moving, and turned back to the stall. The jeweler had fallen to the ground in shock. The assassin vaulted the counter, sending rings and necklaces and torcs to the ground with a tinkling sound that Malekaiah shouldn’t have been able to hear over the din, but could have sworn she did.

He advanced upon the jeweler, dagger in hand, blade under fist. She extended an arm to protect herself, and the assassin’s blade pierced her hand, stabbing all the way through. Her pained scream pierced the sky. The assassin inverted his grip, blade over fist, and began slashing. The jeweler took a cut to the stomach before raising her arms to defend again. The steel tore through the sleeves of her dress as well as the flesh of her forearms.

A fire ignited in Malekaiah’s throat, melting her freeze and compelling her move. She hiked up her robes and withdrew her dagger from the sheath fastened around her thigh, and she advanced through the dissipating crowd. She vaulted over the counter, knocking off yet more jewelry, and approached the assassin’s back.

Firmly gripping the dagger’s hilt, in one simple motion, she thrust the blade deep into his back, sliding effortlessly between two ribs.

Poppies bloomed around the wound, soaking into his shirt.

The assassin exhaled sharply as his lung collapsed, and stopped attacking the jeweler. His weapon clattered to the ground, and he slowly turned to face Malekaiah. With shaky breath, and through bloody coughs, he mustered, “I die for my people,” and then collapsed, dead.

Slowly, shakily, Malekaiah bent down to pull the dagger from the assassin’s back. Once the blade was free of his flesh, there was an upwelling of blood, painting his tunic a deeper black.

She looked across at the jeweler, who stared at her, frightened, tears streaking down her face. Malekaiah took a step forward, causing the jeweler to squirm backwards with a squeal.

“P-please…don’t…” mumbled the jeweler.

Malekaiah glanced at the bloody blade in her hand. Some portions were untouched, clean steel, and she could see her reflection clearly in it. But in the bloody bits, the wet gore reflected a demented distortion of her face. She screamed, too, and tried to wipe the blood from the blade with her cuff. But all she accomplished was staining her sleeve.

Malekaiah returned the dagger to its sheath on her thigh, struggling to keep her hand steady. She tried to approach the jeweler again, with open hands. “I won’t hurt you,” she assured. “I’m a healer.”

The jeweler hesitated, but nodded, letting Malekaiah come forward. Malekaiah knelt next to her and channeled Dibella’s grace to her hands, which glowed with a golden light. She began to hover them over the jeweler’s wounds, slowly bidding them close.

Suddenly, something cold and sharp lifted Malekaiah’s head by the chin. Forcibly she looked up to see one of Markarth’s guards pointing a sword at her throat.

“What are you doing, murderer?” the guard spat from beneath his helmet.

“I…” Malekaiah quavered, blinking rapidly.

“You idiot,” shouted the jeweler at the guard. “She saved my life!”

The guard seemed to finally take full stock of the situation, seeing the woman’s slit-throat corpse, the assassin’s face-down body, and his bloody blade discarded at his side.

In the meanwhile, Malekaiah continued healing the jeweler, starting with the slashes on her arms and the thankfully superficial cut on her abdomen. Malekaiah looked at the stab-wound through the jeweler’s hand with dismay. “I can’t heal this on my own,” she told the jeweler, who had mostly calmed down.

Malekaiah turned to the corpse and dagger behind her. She wiped as much blood from the blade as she could, and used it as a tool to cut a relatively clean strip of the assassin’s tunic. She turned back to the jeweler and apologized. “This will hurt.” The jeweler nodded and offered her injured hand. Malekaiah delicately wrapped the strip of cloth around her palm, tying it tightly. The jeweler groaned at the final tug but otherwise didn’t complain.

“She needs a more experienced healer for her hand,” Malekaiah said, looking up at the guard, who had withdrawn his sword to its sheath.

“I’ll take her to the temple,” the guard growled. Taking her unhurt hand, he helped the jeweler stand. As they began to walk off, he turned his head and said, “Keep your nose clean, orc.”

Malekaiah knelt there numbly for a moment. But eventually her close proximity to two corpses and so much blood became too much, and she forced herself to stand. She examined her robes, and found them surprisingly spared, save for the cuff she used to wipe the blades clean.

The market was almost completely empty now, save for a few late-arriving guards come to gather the bodies. But there was another man, fast approaching Malekaiah. His smile did nothing to disarm her anxiety after the preceding harrowing events, and she reached instinctively for the dagger through her robes.

“Easy there, friend,” said the stranger. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He glanced at the dead woman being carried off by a couple of guards. “Gods. A woman attacked, right in the streets.” He seemed to notice the blood on Malekaiah’s cuffs, and asked, “Are you alright? Did you see what happened?”

“I was right there,” Malekaiah answered. She ran her hand across her bare scalp and looked away. “He killed that woman, and then…tried to kill the jeweler.” Her words felt like lead dropping from her tongue, seeming to almost hang from her lips, not wishing to be said. Her voice didn’t feel her own. “So I…I…I killed him.” She covered her face so the stranger wouldn’t see the unbidden tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” the stranger said. “I hope the Nine give you more peace in the future.” Malekaiah lowered her hands to look at him, just as his expression suddenly changed. He quickly reached out his hand, shoving something into Malekaiah’s. “Oh, by the way, I think you dropped this.”

Malekaiah jumped at the sudden movement, but calmed a bit when she realized it was just a piece of folded paper. “Is this…yours?” she asked, confused.

“Mine? No, yours. Must have fallen out of your pocket in the commotion.” He offered a little wave and then turned to leave.

Malekaiah was positive she didn’t have any parchment on her before this man gave her this note. She unfolded and read the brief note scrawled in an uneven hand: “Meet me at the Shrine of Talos.”

Malekaiah looked back up at the man, who was now halfway across the square. “Shrine of Talos?” she hollered. “Where’s that?”

He stopped in his tracks and half turned towards her. “Huh?” He scratched his chin. “Not sure. I don’t worship Talos, myself. I think I heard someone mention it was underneath the Temple of Dibella, in the big crag in the center of the city.” Then he turned and walked away.

Malekaiah’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight. Then she glanced at the note again, and sighed. She folded the paper back up and slipped it into a pocket in her robes.

She looked up toward the center of town, at the crag where she had just come from the Temple. It truly was an enormous feature, dominating the city’s skyline.

She checked for her dagger again, and against her better judgment, she made her way towards the Shrine of Talos.

-----

It took some walking around the crag to find the correct path to the shrine, as well as walking past its unmarked doors on accident several times. The doors were large and notable: huge brass double doors twice her height, surrounded by ornate ancient masonry. But there was no indication they belonged to the shrine of a Cyrodiilic war god.

Malekaiah pushed open the heavy doors with some effort, and stepped into the dark corridor, faintly candlelit and sloping downwards. She narrowed her eyes in the darkness, but her Orcish vision quickly acclimated. At the bottom of the slope she could make out two figures: one, surely a statue of Tiber Septim, stoically leaning on a sword; the other, a man kneeling before the altar, head bowed.

Malekaiah slowly descended the corridor towards the shrine’s sanctum. She tried to be quiet so as not to disturb the man’s prayer, but despite her best efforts he still somehow noticed her approach as she neared the end of the ramp.

The stranger from the market quickly stood and turned to face Malekaiah. “You came,” he whispered. “Thank you. I’m sorry to drag you into Markarth’s problems, but after that attack in the market, I’m running out of time.”

Malekaiah blinked rapidly. “What?”

Breathlessly, the stranger continued, “You want answers? Well, so do I. So does everyone in the city. A man goes crazy in the market. Everyone knows he’s a Forsworn agent. Guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess.”

Unbidden, images flash into Malekaiah’s mind: a torn open throat, poppies, and a demon staring back at her in the bloody blade.

It was as if her head detached from her neck, and began to float away. She responded numbly to the stranger in an automatic process seemingly devoid of any conscious intention. Her conscious attention was no longer in the room.

The entire conversation grazed past her like a breeze. She may have agreed to something, but the memory of precisely what was slippery. She was vaguely aware that at some point, the man - suddenly she remembered he called himself Eltrys - left the shrine. But she remained, standing before the altar, invisible to herself.

Malekaiah returned to her body, and found herself kneeling at the altar, hands clasped, muttering an unintelligible half-prayer to - presumably - Talos. She stopped herself. She had never worshiped Talos; it struck her as odd that Skyrim had shrines at all, as he was chiefly a Cyrod’s god. She felt nothing stirring in her heart from the attempt. Oddly enough, though, she felt something stirring in her gut.

Oh. She was hungry. She stood, dusted off her knees, and left the shrine.

———

Not even the warmth of the inn could take the chill from Malekaiah’s bones. She shuffled into the threshold, and suddenly all of the many eyes of the crowded tavern were on her. Whispers accompanied them:

“Is that…”

“Did she really…”

“She really is a…”

Malekaiah pressed her thumb into her tusk hard as she shambled towards the bar. She vaguely recognized that she was falling into her old bad habit, but it seemed to keep her head screwed onto her neck, so she allowed it this time.

She clambered onto a stool at the far end of the bar. She knew she needed to order dinner, and rent a room for the night, but she was an immobile statue, unable to speak. So she folded her arms on the counter and buried her face in them.

After a moment, a gentle male voice reverberated, “Hey, lass.”

Malekaiah lifted her head to see the barkeep looking at her.

“You’re the Orc who killed Weylin, right? Saved Kerah’s life?” He didn’t look angry, but it felt like an accusation to Malekaiah nonetheless.

Without speaking, Malekaiah nodded slowly.

The barkeep reached underneath his side of the counter and placed something on top of it. Malekaiah recoiled immediately, but her alarm softened as she saw what it was: a tray filled with food. A bowl of steaming potato cabbage soup; a thick rye-bread trencher, topped with a hefty slice of goat cheese and an entire roasted goat shank; on the side, some kind of dark-berried pie, and a large mug of what smelled like mead.

“You did good, lass,” said the barkeep with a smile. “Food’s on the house. Bed too, if you need one for the night.”

A holler went up through the room, all the whispering mouths turned to joyous raucous. A nearby Nord reached over with his mug. It took a moment, but Malekaiah realized she needed to lift her own and clank it against his. Both cups overflowed, and the coolness of the splashed mead felt good on Malekaiah’s hand.

Malekaiah was afraid to eat at first, not sure her appetite would be up to the massive challenge. But she didn’t miss a bite. She even drank the whole mug of mead, despite never having had alcohol in her life. The barkeep, whose name was Kleppr, led her to her room after the festivities became too much for her. It wasn’t long after her head hit the pillow that she fell into a deep sleep.

-----

It was early morning, and the sun was yet to peek through the window into their home. All that lit the room was a small candle on the table between them. Its flame flickered across her father’s dark face, dancing across his features: his round spectacles and the dull brown eyes behind; his large, bulbous nose, a mountain dividing his face into two separate landmasses; and underneath, the thick mustache covering his upper lip completely, a dense dark broom of hair. His clean-shaven scalp even caught the light, casting vague orange smears across his head.

She admired his looks. He looked like a father ought, she thought. She pitied her childhood friends and their imperfectly paternal fathers.

Sometimes, at night when she couldn’t sleep, she tried to imagine what her “true” father looked like. Would he measure up at all? Surely he was greener, and with prominent tusks, but what of the mustache? The spectacles? It was usually at this stage that she began to feel intensely ashamed for considering it at all. Da was her father, and that was that…

Da slapped her hand away from her mouth – she had been pressing her fingertip into her tusk again. “Stop that,” he muttered sternly.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Lost in thought, again.”

Da huffed. “Don’t think so much.” Pivoting quickly, he said, “Don’t be afraid.” From the satchel leaning against the legs of his chair he pulled out two items. She squinted to make them out in the darkness: one seemed to be metal, gleaming in the candlelight; the other was some loose assemblage of leather strips.

“A parting gift?” she asked, incredulous.

“No, Kaiah.” (She loved it when he called her that.) “Nine forbid you ever need to use this.” He delicately handed her the objects; as the metal one passed nearer to the flame, she recognized it as a dagger.

“What is this?” she asked, startled.

“I said don’t be afraid,” he rebuked. “It’s protection. You go alone into dangerous lands. Nine forbid you ever need it, but…just in case.”

She slowly reached for the blade’s grip, her hand shaking ever so slightly. As her fingers wrapped around the hilt, Da let go. She was surprised by the lightness of it; she had expected heavier.

“And this,” Da said, holding up the tied leather strips, “is your sheath. It will tie around your thigh. Keep it concealed beneath your robes.”

She nodded numbly as he gave her the sheath. The leather was soft under her fingertips.

“How will I know when to use it?” she asked.

“You’re a grown woman now, Kaiah,” answered Da. He began to rise from his chair. “I trust your judgment.”

She began to rise as well, expecting an embrace. But he turned his back to her, and approached the smoldering ashes of last night’s fire in the furnace. There he stood, quiet, hands clasped behind his back.

She wanted to hug Da, for him to tell her she was doing the right thing, that she would be okay. She started to slowly shuffle up behind him –

But the dagger was still in her hand, and her fingers tightened around it. She surged forward, blade first.

His lungs deflated with a sudden gasp, and poppies welled around the wound in his back, piercing right between his ribs.

She cried out, “Da!” She let go of the dagger and tried to back away from this murder.

But his hands unclasped themselves, and reached up to grab her arms – joints popped and bones cracked from the unnatural extension required. He began to turn his head back, further and further, vertebrae shattering as it swiveled to face her. But it wasn’t his face.

The candle on the table behind her seemed to roar into a conflagration, fully illuminating his hideous visage, a demented ashen demon, teeth glistening with gore, lips spread wide with malice and rage. It shouted, “Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer!”

-----

She woke up screaming, “I’m sorry!”

She grabbed the burning hot talisman hanging from her throat and, through her tears, saw Da’s twisted, angry face in the icon. She ripped it from her neck and threw it across the rented room, and wept.

-----

Blessedly, the ancient stone walls of the inn seemed to be thick enough to stifle her screaming and sobbing. At least, no one came knocking on her door to get her to shut up.

Malekaiah knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep; she was too afraid of further nightmares. She decided to get dressed and go for a walk.

Before she left the room, she glanced back at its dark corner. A faint gleam caught her eye; the demon talisman from her swaddling cloth. She approached it and retrieved it; it was still slightly warm. She reasoned she couldn’t blame it entirely for the dream, and after all, it could prove useful in Wrothgar - it could open some doors. She tied it back around her neck.

Malekaiah quietly left her room and passed through the stone corridor into the inn’s main chamber. Although packed and active last night, in these early hours before dawn it was dead. Everyone had retired to their beds, except for a single drunkard passed out in the corner.

In the lingering light from the fires, she caught a glimpse of the bloodstains on her cuffs. She decided on where her walk would take her.

The air outside was near freezing. Malekaiah wished she’d packed a pair of gloves. She pulled up the hood on her robes in an effort to protect her cheeks from the chill.

It seemed the guards of Markarth kept the streets lit overnight; she saw one a ways down who was tending to a brazier with her torch. Malekaiah considered asking the guard if she had a torch to spare, but she wasn’t brave enough. So she carried on by the occasional light of braziers, hoping she remembered her way back to her destination.

After some searching, Malekaiah arrived: the small stream by the blacksmith’s. (The old Orc woman didn’t seem to be there yet.) She wasted no time undoing the red sash around her waist, and then pulling her ochre robes off and over her head. All that remained was her woolen underclothes, but they still covered her neck-to-ankle.

“Pretty wiry for an Orc, aren’t you?”

Malekaiah jumped and dropped her robes into the stream. She tried to snatch them out, but the flow was too strong. She turned to try to make out who had addressed her in the dark.

“Sorry,” the voice said. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t alone, so you didn’t strip all the way down.”

Malekaiah strained to focus her eyes. The woman a ways down the stream had a crate of objects that glimmered in the moonslight, and a bandage wrapped around her waving hand.

“Oh,” Malekaiah said. “You’re…”

“My name’s Kerah,” answered the woman in the darkness. “I figure the least I owe you for saving my life is my name.” She waved her hand again. “Can I have yours?”

“Malekaiah.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Kerah said. She reached out with her uninjured hand and grabbed Malekaiah’s robes as they passed by her in the stream. “Come here, Malekaiah. You might want these.”

Malekaiah slowly obliged, drawing closer to Kerah. As she did, she noticed the box was filled with blood-spattered silver jewelry.

“Cleaning the merchandise before we open,” smiled Kerah as she handed Malekaiah the robes. “It needs to be presentable, of course.

Malekaiah knelt beside Kerah and furrowed her brow. “Are you okay?”

Kerah tilted her head slightly. “Oh, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said with a light wave of her bandaged hand.

“No,” Malekaiah said, “I mean…” She gestured vaguely at her own shaved head.

Kerah’s face hardened a bit. “It’s fine. Such is life in Skyrim. Especially the Reach.” She pointed at the bloodstains on Malekaiah’s robes. “Not the first time blood’s been shed in this city, and it won’t be the last.”

“Oh,” Malekaiah said. Attention having been drawn to the bloodstains, she began to scrub futilely at them in the stream.

Kerah idly watched Malekaiah’s attempts to clean her robes while fiddling with a necklace from her crate. Finally she said, “That’s not going to work. Here.” She reached beside her and offered Malekaiah a small round object.

Malekaiah took it gently, and her fingers brushed against Kerah’s. She had expected them to be soft, but the tips were rough and calloused. Malekaiah realized Kerah wasn’t just a jeweler - she was a silversmith. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine.

It took a moment for Malekaiah to return to her senses. She examined the smooth object in her hand. It was yellowish-white, with darker flecks throughout. “What is -”

“Soap,” Kerah interjected. “Goat tallow, potash, and a little lavender imported from Whiterun for the scent.” She waved towards the robes. “Give it a try.”

Malekaiah gave the bar of soap a sniff - it did smell faintly of lavender. She began to scrub at the blood stains with it, and gradually they began to fade until all that was left were patches of slightly darker ochre.

“Thank you,” Malekaiah whispered when she was done. She tried to hand back the soap, but Kerah pushed it away.

“No, keep it,” Kerah said. “I have plenty. Margret taught me how to make it a while back.”

“Margret?” Malekaiah asked.

Kerah winced. “She is…was…a customer of mine. She was…the one at my stall this morning. When you were there.”

It took Malekaiah a moment to piece it together. Then the image of the woman’s bleeding throat flashed before her eyes, and she quickly shut them tight. But it didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

Kerah wiped a moonslit tear from her eye. “It’s okay.” She sighed, her entire body shuddering. “I don’t know about where you’re from, but in Skyrim, we celebrate our dead. Even when they’re taken from us.”

“Anvil,” whispered Malekaiah.

“Hm?” replied Kerah, tilting her head.

“I’m from Anvil. In Cyrodiil.”

“Oh. So was Margret. From Cyrodiil, I mean. Not Anvil.” Kerah smiled. “She was here to buy a pendant for her sister in the Imperial City. Have you ever been there?”

Malekaiah shook her head. “Never left Anvil county. Not until I came here.”

Kerah reached out her hands. Malekaiah accepted the offer with some hesitation, placing her hands in Kerah’s. They certainly weren’t the pampered hands of a merchant; this woman worked a forge. And judging by the quality of her wares, she was good at it.

“So what brings you to Markarth, Malekaiah?” asked Kerah.

“I’m an acolyte of Dibella,” Malekaiah answered. “I’m on my way to Orsinium to proselytize.”

“Hm,” Kerah said. “That must be a tough crowd.” Malekaiah’s face fell a bit, so Kerah added, “But maybe they’ll listen to you, since you’re an Orc and all.”

Malekaiah smiled slightly. “Maybe.”

The sun was beginning to rise now, Kerah’s crate of silver dazzling in the early dawn light. “Damn,” she blurted, pulling her hands away from Malekaiah’s and burying them in the assorted jewelry. “Sorry, I really need to finish this and get ready to open.” She smiled again, wide and sparkling in the sun’s golden glow. “It was lovely getting to know you, Malekaiah. Be safe in your travels, and good luck.”

Without the warmth of Kerah’s hands, Malekaiah’s fingers felt lonely in the cold Skyrim air. “Thank you for the soap,” Malekaiah said as she gathered her wet robes and began to stand.

“You saved my life,” Kerah said as she scraped hard blood from a sapphire. “It’s the least I can do.”

Malekaiah waved awkwardly with the hand holding the soap, but Kerah was now fully engrossed in cleaning her merchandise. Malekaiah nodded and walked away.

The robes tucked under Malekaiah’s arm were dripping wet. Looking up the stream, she saw the blacksmith’s forge again, situated on an island in the center of the flow. She squinted at it in the dull morning light, and could just make out a couple of aprons hanging from a line strung between two of the hut’s posts. She still didn’t see the Orc there, so she approached.

Malekaiah had to ascend a level of the tiered city to find the stone bridge crossing the stream. At the smithy, she glanced around. On a table near the anvil she found a pair of small iron clamps. She took them and used them to hang up her robes on the line with the aprons.

Exhausted from her short sleep that night, she sat at the stool by the table. She pulled her hands in her sleeves to keep them warm, and laid down her head on the table…

-----

Malekaiah was pulled awake by a firm hand wrapping around the back of her neck and yanking up her head. She yelped and reached up her hands, but her assailant slapped them down.

“What are you doing in my workshop, whelp?”

Malekaiah was just barely able to turn her head to see the fuming Orc smith gripping her nape. “I…I…I…” Malekaiah’s sudden rip from sleep kept her from forming a sentence.

“Not thieving, I hope?” continued the Orc woman. “You know what we do to thieves in the strongholds? We take their hands, whelp.” Suddenly, Malekaiah noticed a flash of light on the steel axe in the woman’s other hand.

“Uh, Ghorza?” It was a man’s voice, albeit a timid one, coming from behind the furious woman.

“Not the time, Tacitus,” growled the woman, presumably Ghorza.

“Look,” Tacitus continued anyway. He must have pointed, because Ghorza turned. She moved her whole body to look, letting Malekaiah see Tacitus was gesturing at her hanging robes. “She’s just drying her clothes,” Tacitus laughed.

Ghorza dropped Malekaiah and moved over to the robes. Malekaiah scurried into the corner.

Ghorza plucked the clamps from the line, causing the mostly-dry robes to fall to the floor. “These aren’t clothespins, girl,” she growled. “I’ll have your hide if these rust.”

Tacitus, a soot-faced young Cyrod, bent down to look at Malekaiah - he seemed to take notice of the sheath on her thigh. “Wait, Ghorza. I know this one! She was the one at the market yesterday, who killed the Forsworn!”

Ghorza huffed wordlessly. “Stand up and let me have a look at you, girl.”

Malekaiah felt heat rush to her cheeks as she slowly obeyed, keeping a hand hovering near the sheath just in case. Ghorza towered over her, but Tacitus in the corner was about Malekaiah’s height. Malekaiah began to wonder if she was short for an Orc.

Ghorza placed her rough smith’s hands on Malekaiah’s shoulders, squeezing as she moved down to feel her biceps. “Pretty scrawny,” she said before grabbing Malekaiah’s chin and tilting her head this way and that. “And maybe not so bright - no common sense, at least - but you know how to kill. A decent sign.” She let go and turned around. She pulled something from a rack and turned back to brandish it before Malekaiah. “Here. See how this feels.”

It was a sword - Malekaiah guessed it was made of iron. She took it by the offered handle from Ghorza and waggled it around a bit. It was lighter than it looked.

Ghorza stepped back. “Give it a few swings.”

Malekaiah looked up at Ghorza’s eyes, anxious. But she did as she was told, and swung at the air a few times. They were clumsy swipes, and the sword nearly fell from her hand at the end of the last.

“Stop,” ordered Ghorza. “No training. Shouldn’t be surprised.”

Malekaiah laid the blade across both hands and inspected it. The metal was dull, without the sharp gleam of her Da’s dagger. She asked, “Is this…a gift?”

“No. It wasn’t going to be free, at least.” Ghorza retrieved the sword from Malekaiah with a delicate touch that betrayed a great respect for the iron. “But it wouldn’t do you any good without any skill. Swinging it wildly is ineffective, at best. Get you killed, at worst.” She pointed the sword at Malekaiah’s sheathed dagger. “Better off with something smaller. And staying out of trouble in the first place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Malekaiah as she watched Ghorza return the sword to its rack. She took the opportunity to retrieve her robes from the floor.

Ghorza turned back and looked Malekaiah up and down for a moment, arms crossed. Finally she said, “You did good in the market yesterday. Take care of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Malekaiah said.

“Get out of my sight.”

“Yes m-” Malekaiah began, but Ghorza’s eyes flared up, and so she hurried away, nearly tripping over her dangling robes in the process.

-----

Unlike in Anvil, the sun in Skyrim never seemed to rise very high in the sky, even by midday. But Malekaiah knew she’d be mostly keeping to this same northerly latitude for her journey, so she figured she’d have to get used to it.

Malekaiah had stocked up on food and supplies this morning, spending almost all of her remaining gold, before leaving the city about an hour ago. She followed the main road west as it faded from paved to dirt to cleared to tracks to footprints to complete obscurity. Now she and Magnus faced the same direction, the latter sure of his path over the mountains, but Malekaiah much less so. She knelt in the dirt and puzzled.

When overwhelmed, Da always taught her to take things one step at a time. She scanned the jagged horizon of slate-gray peaks, and looked for low passages between the rising slopes and cliffs. She followed a trail of them closer and closer until a nearby path emerged.

She stood and dusted off her knees. She was ready to keep walking, but then she heard footsteps behind her. She turned back to see a woman there she hadn’t noticed before. She was a dark elf, a Dunmer, wearing shiny brass armor and a deep black cloak with red trim. Her hood shrouded her face in darkness, but two locks of white hair spilled out from underneath onto her shoulders.

“Muthsera?” croaked the Dunmer, betraying what Malekaiah understood as the accent natural to residents of the volcanic island of Vvardenfell, in the Ebonheart Pact.

Tentatively, Malekaiah responded, “Yes? How can I help you?”

The dark elf said, “I’m lost. Which way to Solstheim?”

“Oh, I’m not from here,” Malekaiah said with an apologetic smile. But she wracked her brain for memories from her geography lessons. “Solstheim…that’s an island, isn’t it? In the Sea of Ghosts?” She pointed east, behind the Dunmer.

The dark elf didn’t so much as turn her head to acknowledge the gesture. “Oh,” she said, staring exclusively at Malekaiah. “Thank you.” She broke eye contact briefly to glance up at the skies as she asked, “Seen any dragons lately?”

“Sorry? Malekaiah said, looking up where the dark elf did. She didn’t see anything, so she looked back down. “Dragons aren’t real, are they?”

The Dunmer’s lips spread open wide, revealing two rows of yellow, viciously sharp teeth in a wicked grin. “Oh, yes,” she said, her teeth not separating as she spoke, “Of course they’re real.” Her red-nailed fingers wrapped around the corners of her hood and peeled it from her face, the shadows receding to reveal her eyes, blood-red and wide, and the third, tattooed on her forehead, crimson ink glowing brightly. “You’ve just met one.” She rushed forward, grabbing Malekaiah by the face and pressing her thumb into her forehead.

“Praan.”

And nothing but thick blackness remained.

#tes #tesblr #my writing #skyrim #dibella #talos #oc: malekaiah #oc: dagoth valer #markarth #dunmer #orc #orsimer #nord #breton #forsworn #imperial #cyrod #cyrodiil #redguard

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lonesome-witching · 6 months

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I Remember

@robincityofsilver asked for some flayed Robin and so you all get some flayed Robin. I might go silent for three weeks now (hopefully not) but at least I get to post this one.

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to go in. That door had never looked so frightening. It was just the door to the basement. A door that was opened and closed several times a day and usually didn’t hide anything bigger than a child.

But right now, behind that door, she could hear screams and growls and it hurt. It was hard to recognize Robin’s voice in the animalistic sounds that echoed through the house.

The door opened and Steve appeared looking distraught. “I’m done. I need a break. She just—” He dropped his head into his hands and allowed the door to fall shut behind himself. For a moment Nancy thought he was going to cry. She wouldn’t have blamed him.

“It’s alright, I’ll go take watch.” Nancy barely registered her own voice.

They had come up with the idea of a watch system. Simply because the basement wasn’t the most secure place to keep a young woman possessed by an other worldly monster. In her own defense, Nancy was a young woman herself and she hadn’t been able to think of a better place.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked compassionately. But Nancy saw the relief in his eyes at not having to go back down there yet.

“Yeah,” Nancy replied. She avoided her gaze, worried Steve would see right through her tough act. But her voice sounded shaky on its own.

Nancy’s hands were shaking as she reached for the door handle. The stairs creaked under her feet, almost as if they were protesting, warning her to turn back now that she still could. She ignored it and kept walking.

Robin’s hands were tied to the back of the chair. Her head was hanging low, as if she was looking at her own lap. Her eyes shot up to face Nancy as she walked into the room. Her eyes were darker than they usually were. Her lips didn’t curl into that smile that Nancy had grown accustomed to.

“Hi, Robin.” Nancy was bracing herself for the growl that would escape Robin’s throat. But it didn’t. Robin just sat there, watching Nancy approach.

There was a distance between where Robin’s chair was placed, and the couch Nancy sat down on. She swallowed down the excess of saliva that had built up in her mouth before trying anything.

“How are you feeling?”

Robin cocked her head to the side. But her lips stayed pressed together. Nancy already missed Robin’s voice, her incessant rambling, her lively laugh.

Nancy sank further into the couch pillow. She wasn’t used to having to be the talker. That was so lovely about Robin. Robin never shut up. Never until now.

“Robin, please say something. You know I’m not good at this.” It was more of a plea than a demand.

But Robin didn’t say anything. She just watched. She just kept on watching.

Talk to her. Nancy kept hearing those words on repeat in her own head. She was supposed to talk to her.

“Robin, do you remember the night after our fight with Vecna? We were all gross, covered in goo and slime. I didn’t want to be alone and somehow you seemed to see it on my face. You came up with the idea to go back to my place, back here. Right in this basement. And you stayed up with me as long as you could and when you fell asleep you made sure to hold me. I didn’t get a lick of sleep that night, but for the first time in a long time I didn’t feel so scared anymore.”

Robin’s eyes seemed to lighten. Maybe Nancy was imagining things.

“Do you remember that, Robin?” It felt useless to try, but she had to try something.

“Yes,” Robin croaked out. It was barely audible over her breath.

“Robin?” Nancy leaned forward. She couldn’t help the small smile from breaking through.

“I remember,” Robin whispered. “I remember.”

#prompts #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #my work #stranger things #fanfic #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ficlet

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shy-lynn · 3 months

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Safe

(An RE4 remake Leon fanfiction)

cw: MDNI!, NSFW 18+, violence, gore, yandere, dark content, confinement, handcuffs

CHAPTER 5

Leon’s POV

It’s my duty to protect her. It’s my duty to make sure she doesn’t get hurt- to make sure she’s comfortable. It’s only been 3 days and I’ve failed. Poor darling can’t even take a bath on her own… I can’t let that happen again. I won’t let that happen again. I haven’t known her for very long, but my job has its perks. I have been able to dig up information about her. I know her more now than she probably has ever known herself.

So accident prone. So many hospital visits in the past. Oh my poor darling. I have decided that I need to do whatever it takes to protect her and keep her from harm- even if it means I have to protect her from herself. Am I taking this mission too far? I don’t know… but what I do know is that I’m not going to let anything happen to her. This is going to be the mission where, finally, somehow, nothing goes wrong. I’ll make sure of that.

The way she was practically begging for me to stay with her, made me want to just grab her right then and there and never let go. I know I can’t make her uncomfortable though. I have to play my cards right.

____________________________________________________________________________

(Y/N)’s POV

After a while of fighting my brain to stop thinking, I slowly creep down the stairs and see Leon hunched over on the couch, sipping what I presume to be his whiskey. I refrain from forming any thoughts about Leon. I sit on the opposite end of the couch and can barely even look at him.

“Uh, Leon? How long do you suppose I’m going to have to stay here?” I ask, hoping he has an answer to that.

Leon looks at me with his brows furrowed slightly, “I don’t know that answer quite yet. But… Based on what I know, we’re probably looking at at least a couple of months.”

I look down, disappointed. That was not the answer I was hoping for. I don’t think I can do this. I haven’t been here for very long, but it already feels like too much. Part of me wishes that I was just taken into custody. Then I wouldn’t have to live in this house in the middle of nowhere, with this very attractive man who I don’t know. My mind starts to wonder what could really go too wrong if I just decided to leave? Surely I could figure it out. Sneak out when Leon is asleep, take his car. Drive to my parents home, but be discreet. Borrow money and fly to a different country. Surely I could. What’s stopping me?

I stand up suddenly, wanting to go up to my room to gather my thoughts and plan to leave. Leon doesn’t need to know this.

“I… think I’m going to turn in early tonight. I’m pretty tired. Had a long day. Thanks for everything Leon.” I say before turning and going up the stairs into my room and closing the door behind me.

I have to figure out where he puts his keys. I will wait until he goes to sleep tonight and then I will find them. I haven’t noticed any cameras here, so I’m at least going to be able to leave here semi discreetly. I quietly start to pack some of my things into a backpack. Mostly clothes. I set my shoes by the door. Winter is starting to end and spring is about to begin but it’s still freezing outside, so walking is not going to be an option. I have to use his car.

____________________________________________________________________________

Leon’s POV

My poor darling is acting strange. I can tell that she doesn’t want to be here any longer… but she has to know it’s for her own good. She’s up to something… that’s for certain. I’m not going to let her make any decision that she’ll regret.

As soon as she went into her room and closed her door, I poured myself another glass of whiskey and chugged it down quickly. It’s going to be a long night, this I’m aware of. I pull my car keys out of my pocket and dangle them off of my fingers as I go upstairs to my room. I put them on the nightstand and take a seat on the edge of the bed. I wait there, patiently in the dark, my door open. I wait for her to go through with her silly little plan. Does she not remember how skilled of an agent I am? Does she not realize that she can’t fool me? I’ll always be one step ahead of her. That’s my job, afterall.

After a couple hours, I start to hear her little footsteps tip toeing in her room. I get up from the bed and hide myself behind the open door of my room. I hear her quietly enter my room and she immediately darts for the keys that are sitting on my nightstand.

“What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

She freezes up and turns around to look at me. Her eyes wide in shock. She hides the keys behind her back, as if I didn’t see her grab them. I walk closer to her and lean in. I wrap my arm around her and retrieve the keys from her hand.

“You won’t be needing these.”

I then reach for the bag that is thrown over her shoulder and I take it off, “You also don’t need this. Tell me… What has gotten into you tonight, my dear?” I say, my voice low and gruff. She looks at me dumbfounded, at a loss for what to say now. I can see the gears shifting in her brain.

“I-I… just needed some fresh air is all.” She says. That causes me to shake my nod. Lying isn’t her forte either.

“You need a bag of clothes and the keys to my car to get fresh air? No… I don’t think you’re being honest with me. You know it’s dangerous out there for you. I can’t let you go out there.” I grab her wrists and bring her closer to me, my breath tickling her ear.

“Am I going to have to protect you from yourself now too? What a shame…”

She struggles against my grip. I pull her into her bedroom and sit her on the bed and I pull out a pair of handcuffs from my back pocket. And here I go, chaining her to the bed. It’s not like I had any other choice. What a stubborn, reckless girl…

(Sorry that this chapter is so short. I'm also trying different POV's out. So bare with me while I try and figure this out! Thank you <3)

#18+ content #leon s kennedy #resident evil #fanfiction #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 4 remake #re4 remake #leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #re4

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devilbrakers · 9 months

Text

WIP Thursday!

was tagged by @lucien-lachance and @moonmothers to post a wip of mine and i finally have something to share jfkdslfjkdl. dmitri reawakens wip. kind of a warning for descriptions of someone dying but nothing terribly graphic, i don't think.

tagging: @numbaoneflaya @time-is-a-lake @shadowshearts @nuclearstorms @celticwoman @morvaris @mrs-theirin @druidgroves @saratrantoul @cwahsont @katsigian @swanfey and anyone else who'd like to join!

It’s cold – impossibly cold. The chamber is dark, the only thing he can make out is the crumbling brick only a couple feet from his face. The platform is harsh under his bare skin, grittier and rougher than he remembers. He shifts slightly, expecting the typical discomfort one has when moving their joints for the first time in a while but it doesn’t come. His movements are fluid and quick, much quicker than he’s used to. He almost flings himself off the platform when he rolls over. He catches himself, a hand flying out on its own volition and his palm cracks the brick of the altar he lays on. He swallows thickly, staring at the sight for a moment before he looks up. Better not to dwell on that, he thinks.

It’s too quiet for his liking. Nina should already be yelling at him, degrading him for ruining her ritual and denying her the ‘power of a god’, as she called it just hours ago. He should be dead, really, granted freedom away from this wretched place. He wanted to die but it seems the creators will not be granting that kindness today. He sits up, brushing his hands off on his pants and watching as the dust scatters. He looks up again, searching the nearby area for any sign of his sister but finds nothing besides a trail of blood smeared up the stairs and towards the path leading to their estate. Well, that can’t be anything pleasant. He slides off the altar, unbothered by the jagged pebbles digging into his bare feet as he slowly walks towards the blood. The scent of iron fills his nostrils more and more the closer he gets to it and a sense of dread settles itself deep within his chest. Surely, it’s not Nina’s blood? It seems unlikely in his mind and yet they were the only two people here so there aren’t many other logical options.

A quiet squelching sound comes as he steps in the liquid, cold and sticky underneath his feet. He shudders and side-steps away from it, walking up the stairs and following the path to the estate. The smell is overwhelming now and he has to resist the urge to gag as he plugs his nose. But he can taste it when he breathes through his mouth. He takes in a shaky breath and decides to hold it for now. His shoulders relax somewhat at the relief it provides. He continues on the path until he reaches the end, stopping under next to the sign that holds their family name.

The sight before him should bother him more than it does, it really should. And yet…

There she lays on her side while she reaches for the stairs leading up to the front door of their home. Blood pools next to her, coming out of every crevice in her head. She’s stopped moving but somehow, Dmitri can hear the quiet, shallow breathing that struggles to come out of her mouth. If she hears him approach, she either doesn’t care or no longer has the strength to move her head. He crouches down beside her, looking down at her face as blood drips out of her mouth. She glances at him and tries to say something but all that comes out is a shaky breath along with a soft rattling sound. He almost laughs at her, he wants to laugh at her but he can’t bring himself to. He says nothing as he stares at her, his expression blank. She was always pale but she’s nearly translucent now. If she were more lucid, she’d surely be throwing a fit over the blood on her skin and all over her clothing. She almost looks… guilty as her dual-colored eyes stare up at him or perhaps he’s simply deluding himself. It’s just distress from not being able to meet her goal, confusion as to why it’s her dying on the cold ground and not him. But he has little time to dwell on it because only a moment later, those eyes go blank as she lets out a final breath. Her body goes slack and he’s left by himself in the dark.

#i can't remember who writes and who doesn't so if i forgot someone i'm so sorry 😭#anyway. i haven't written much in a while but i'm kinda proud of this >:) i think i'm improving? idk i don't hate it jfdksl #i might post the whole thing when im done if anyone would be inch rested...#my ocs #dmitri #nina

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newtabfics · 11 months

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Returned: Rauru x Fem!Reader NSFT Series. Part 4

Summary: Rauru is somehow revived in modern Hyrule and his instincts have gone insane as he realizes he's lost his mate.

Triggers for mild dubcon elements as well as just nsft stuff.

Part 1

The moon glowed overhead, Thadd squinted as he saw a horse with two figures atop it. Sighing in relief, he realized not only was it Y/N’s horse but Y/N was astride it. Behind her though was a strange creature.

He balked and looked at her as she approached. “Y/N, you’re back. It’s so late.”

She smiled sheepishly as the creature behind her gripped her hips firmly. “Sorry about startling ya if I did.”

“You’re not scary,” He chuckled, earning a pouted glare as he glanced at Rauru. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Tired. Met him along the way and he’s going to be staying with me.”

“Congrats! …I think?” He looked at the creature warily.

“I’m fine,” She assured him before dismounting, nodding to the Zonai to do so as well. “Are you really gonna stay up all night again?”

“It’s for our safety! There could be a monster running up at any moment. I might not be able to hunt Lynels for sport like that hero, but I can at least hold the frontline until–Gah!” he choked when he chopped down against the center of his head, wincing and rubbing at the spot. “What was that for?”

“I’m not saying it isn’t admirable. What I am saying is that it’s dumb. How can you hold the front if you can barely hold against a woman half your size,” she teased. He sheepishly looked away as she took hold of her mare’s reigns. “If you happen to see them, could you tell Link and Zelda that I’m back and home?”

“Will do,” he grumbled, rubbing still as she led Rauru into the village. “Ah, Y/N…is he…good?”

“I wouldn’t bring him if he wasn’t,” She assured him, continuing on her way.

Rauru kept his jaw clenched tight, hoping to suppress his instincts. It was bad enough he couldn’t wait until they were home, opting to pounce her right near the gate of Fort Hateno. He smirked, catching the reddened bite mark on the back of her neck as they walked to her home. It was a cozy little place near the edge of town. It was just below the pasture of the village and the horse practically pranced over to her stall before Y/N could remove her gear.

“Head on in. I gotta get her settled before anything else.”

“Alright.”

He studied her for a moment as she worked. She clearly knew what she was doing so he went inside to inspect his mate’s home.

It was comfortable and warm. Not just because of the late summer warmth but because of the appearance. There were scattered books and papers across the living area, almost a trail of papers going up the stairs to the loft room. Other than that it was fairly clean. There appeared to be wilting flowers, though in her defense she’d been out and having met him.

The trip was around six days, so the petal breaking off when his claw barely lifted it made perfect sense. He only wondered if she was overwhelmed by something and began to clean up her scattered papers. He wasn’t sure of her study habits so he instead opted for gathering it all and placing it on the desk for her to go through later on.

As he did this though, he noticed her scent seemed to linger at the desk and made note of the unmade bed. He wondered how many nights she’d put herself to sleep trying to crack whatever code she needed to.

Looking at the studies though, it was very apparent that these were sketches and notes about the ruins around Hyrule, more specifically Zonai ruins.

He blinked as he saw the ancient ruins that were in the southernmost area of Hyrule, Faron. He blinked as he studied the material, even seeing an old ritual outfit he’d seen once before on a Hylian model.

“Interesting,” He hummed, smiling softly as he set it down. He wondered how much he could tell her to help her so she might sleep in her bed at night.

Glancing at the stairs, he decided to check out her sleeping area only to freeze when the door opened.

Y/N was brushing off her hands on her pants and smiled as she began to unbuckle her gear. He was proud of her for wearing the gear to begin with but it didn’t change his worry for her wellbeing.

Watching her shed the armor and roll her shoulder to readjust to the lack of weight made him step forward and gently rub it. He smiled at her content sigh of pleasure from his touch, though it had admittedly gone straight to his cock.

“Really? We just had sex not three hours ago,” She joked, looking up at him.

“How’d you know?”

“You’re pressing against me again, Rauru,” She snickered, making him flush as he realized he indeed was doing just that. He smiled and kissed her head. “Were you really jealous of Thadd?”

He tensed. “I wasn’t. I was just prepared in case he tried anything.”

“Don’t be going after Thadd. He’s a sweet man who tries his best.”

“At falling asleep on duty?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Hateno is a peaceful little place. There are those monsters that occasionally pop up but honestly? We don’t need a guard.”

“Even so, it’s clear he has his own paranoia to work on.”

“Ironic coming from you,” She snickered. He blinked at that. “No one is going to steal me. Besides, I’m not entirely yours yet. Gotta work for it.”

He smirked and rutted roughly against her. “I will happily work for it,” He teased.

She turned and kissed him, cupping him over the clothing. “There’s no need to really hold back now, Your Highness.”

Y/N only felt his length twitch under the clothing before he was on her, laying her out on her dining room table. She giggled when he frantically ripped off her clothing. He stopped, eyes scanning over her and making her skin flush. “What?”

“I want to protect you,” he said gently before moving her legs up and kneeling down. Y/N gulped as she watched him. “I want to protect my mate…I don’t want to fail again.”

Before she could respond, he buried his face into her, making her arch up and moan as she gripped his hair. His tongue was burying itself inside her, as if asking the gods between her legs for forgiveness. He hummed and gripped her thighs, holding her in place.

Y/N whined and gripped his hair tightly, lifting him up as best as she could with the awkward position. His pupils were blown wide as he looked at her almost pitifully. He looked like a starving man being told he can’t eat in her eyes.

“I can protect myself. You don’t need to worry over me, Rauru,” She assured him.

He eyed her as he crawled over her, stripping his pants away. She gulped as she looked at the thing resting on her stomach and twitching. It was hot and hard and throbbing with the need to breed her specifically. The Zonai rutted against her as his lips found her neck.

“I’m going to.”

She smiled, knowing her history lessons, and cupped the back of his head. “Then let me worry over you.”

He hummed and nipped gently in response, as if unhearing of it until she tugged his hair. “I’m worried you’re going to become an animal on me. Actually, I’m turned on by it. So show me your animal side, Rauru.”

He snarled and pushed into her slowly, relishing in the way she simply accepted him inside her, unlike the first time when her body resisted him the slightest. Now, she was taking him, moaning lowly as he stood over her, watching their bodies connect.

Rauru moved slowly, gripping her knees to keep her spread wide as her slick began to cover his shaft with every movement.

Her whine made him shiver, and before she could finish saying “Rauru, please go fast–” he was pumping wildly into her, making her choke and moan loudly. His hips slammed into her aggressively, as if trying to break her more as he pinned her knees to her chest.

The Zonai relished the way she squeezed and soaked him, even squirting as she mewled in pleasure. Her body shook and whined until she was practically howling his name.

“I’ve barely done a thing. Maybe you just love it that much. Love how I break you open and ruin you for anyone else.”

“I-I do!” Y/N whined, shaking on the table as the Zonai continued his attack on her. “I love how it f-feels! Please, more! More, Ra-Rauru!”

He snarled and pulled out, flipping her over so she was bent over the table. With a quick slap to her rear, he was buried into her again and gripping her hips as he thrust.

She only regretted the table when she saw the bruises in her hips the following morning.

xx FINALE

#rauru x fem!reader #returned series #part 4 of 5 #part 4 #rauru totk smut

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ariel-seagull-wings · 10 months

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THE THREE POMEGRANATES

@themousefromfantasyland @tamisdava2 @princesssarisa @faintingheroine @inevitablemoment @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @softlytowardthesun

(Armenian folktale)

She was a princess who knew very well what she wanted. She spent the afternoons at the window of her room, which was in a palace with silver walls, which was in the valley, where there was a lake, which reflected the sunlight. Like all real princesses, she was beautiful. In her face she gathered the beauty of all the women in the world, and in her song there was a melody not even dreamed of by the most passionate hearts. She knew how to wait. Valiant princes from all parts of the world traveled many leagues to ask for her hand in marriage, knelt before her, promised the riches of heaven and sea. She barely heard his exalted words. Expecting another voice, coming from another place, she waved them away, distracted.

One day, worried about so many refusals, the king - her father - called her and ordered her to choose a husband soon, according to custom.

"What must be, my father," replied the princess, "does not always happen. I have already chosen the man I can marry, according to my will. I'm just not sure if it agrees with yours."

Saying this, the princess led the king to the window of her room, where she used to see the market below every day, with its craftsmen and wares of all colors.

"Do you see that man sitting weaving a basket among the straw under that green tent?" she asked, pointing toward a corner of the square.

The king searched with his eyes and ended up finding a tall man, with sunburned skin, large and callused hands of a worker, worn clothes and rough appearance. He could not believe that her daughter would prefer a simple basketmaker to the many nobles who had courted her.

"My lord father, know that this is the man I want to marry and no other."

The king tried to dissuade her, but it was in vain. Seeing that the princess was firm in her decision, he finally said:

“As it is, I won't stop this foolish marriage. But you will never be able to return to that palace again, for whatever reason."

The princess looked at the king for the last time, went down the immense palace stairs, crossed the gardens and left through the fortified gate, leaving forever the place where she had spent all her life. When she got down to the market, she walked to the basketmaker's stall, which was called Gambar.

The conversation that passed between them was very short, amazingly simple.

The basketmaker was amazed to see the princess before him, smiling at him.

"I see you every day at the window," he said, "but I never imagined you weree so beautiful. Please, say what you want to buy and then leave, because the memory of the brief moment of her presence will guide my days from now on."

"Gambar," replied the princess, "I don't want to buy anything, I came here to ask you to marry me."

"But I don't have anything to house you in but my little mud house," Gambar said with joy in his voice.

“You know I just want shelter in your heart, Gambar. The rest, we'll sort it out somehow, don't you think?"

Neither of them said anything else. What is certain is that from that day forward the princess began a new life in the small mud house, next to the third Gambar. And they lived very happily, until one day, while they were talking before going to sleep, the princess said:

"Gambar, you work too hard and you don't get paid what you deserve for your efforts. See your hands full of calluses, the fatigue that takes over your body every day. And what do you get out of it? Too little, not worth so much sacrifice. Why not look for another less tiring and more profitable job?"

The next day, while thinking about the princess's words, Gambar met a merchant in the square. The man traveled the world with his animals laden with precious goods and was looking for a companion to help him with his everyday duties. Gambar struck him as the ideal person, with his quiet, dependable manner, his open smile and willingness to work. The two understood each other perfectly and agreed to continue their journey the next morning.

When he got home, Gambar embraced the princess and told her the news.

“On your advice,” he said, “I found a better job. I'm going to earn a lot more money, but for that I'll have to be away for a long time, even if it's hard for me to part with you."

“Even though I'm going to miss you every minute,” she replied, “you don't have to worry. I will know how to wait for you thinking about the day of your return."

They went to bed and spent their last night together before Gambar left. They loved each other without haste, exchanging secrets. They said goodbye at daybreak, and Gambar set out on the road to the world, in the merchant's great caravan.

For a long time they traveled through unknown cities, forests, rivers and mountains, until one day they reached a burning desert. After much searching, they found a well and stopped to rest.

Meanwhile, there in the village of Gambar, the princess had given birth to a child. Cradling her son in her arms, she sang the sweet songs of her ancestors and tried to imagine where Gambar would be at that moment, not knowing about the son who had just been born.

There in the desert, Gambar entered the well with a rope tied around his waist, to water the animals in the caravan. He would dip the bucket in water and hand it to the merchant, over and over, until everyone had drunk. As he was coming out of the well, a very strange thing happened. Suddenly wakes let go of his waist, as if invisible hands had untied them, and he fell at the bottom of the well. He was falling dizzily, down a dark corridor, further and further down, until he reached a place that seemed completely dry, where nothing could be seen. He groped along the floor, found a wall and then a doorknob. As soon as he opened it, he found himself in a dazzling room. The floor was of gold, the walls of lapis lazuli, the ceiling inlaid with diamonds and precious stones. Directly in front of him were three young men sitting on a bench. Embroidering a rug with silk threads of all colors. In one corner of the room there was a table, on which a frog sat on a silver tray. The frog did not move and kept looking at a young man who looked like a prince, sitting on a chair facing her, staring at her.

"Young foreigner," said one of the girls, interrupting Gambar's astonishment at that unusual scene, "we have some questions to ask you. Who among us is the most desirable creature in this place? Why doesn't this prince take his eyes off this frog? Is she better and more beautiful than we are?"

"There's no one better for a man than the woman he loves," said Gambar.

At that very moment the frog fell to the ground, as if struck by lightning. Her skin split open and from within emerged a young woman so dazzling that the other three looked like faint shadows before her. The young woman ran to the prince and they embraced in silence for a while. Then the prince addressed Gambar:

"Your words disenchanted my beloved, who had been turned into a frog by a sorcerer who desired her. You deserve a reward, frank-souled stranger."

He ordered one of the young women to go into the adjoining room, and she returned shortly afterwards with three pomegranates, which she handed to Gambar. Receiving the gift with joy, even though it was so simple, Gambar said goodbye to those people and left the way he had entered. He tied the rope around his waist and the merchant pulled him back to the surface. he told the merchant what had happened in the depths of the well, and the caravan resumed its journey. On the way, they came across another merchant, who was returning to the city of Gambar.

"Please, friend," Gambar told him, "take these fruits to my wife, the princess. Tell her that I think about her all the time and that I'll be home soon."

As soon as he arrived in the city, the merchant looked for the princess and gave her the three pomegranates. Knowing that it was a gift from Gambar, she was very happy and placed the fruits on the table. She took a knife and opened one of them. Her astonishment was enormous: a glow of thin rays of light emerged from inside the pomegranate and spread across the room, illuminating it all. Instead of the small, succulent red slices, there were very pure pearls inside, one next to the other. She broke the second fruit, and there were rubies and emeralds. She broke the third one and inside she found valuable diamonds.

Far away where she was, Gambar couldn't stand the longing for his princess. He took leave of the merchant, received what was owed him for his work, and started back home. This time it seemed like a longer journey, such was his desire to see the princess again. Finally he came into view of the wheat field on the outskirts of his town and passed a large herd of sheep. Gambar asked the shepherd whose sheep these were.

"Sir," he replied respectfully, "these sheep belong to Gambar, the princess's husband."

Gambar did not understand the answer and thought that the man must be making some confusion. Without giving much importance to the matter, since all he wanted was to find the princess, he continued along the path, crossed the river that bordered the city and was happily approaching its entrance. He found many cows grazing near the city walls and asked a man passing by whose cows they were.

"Gambar, the princess's husband, owns them all," replied the man.

This time Gambar became uneasy. What was going on with those people?

“The same meaningless answer twice in a row”, he thought.

What explanation could there be for such madness?

He entered the city and, as he turned a corner from where he used to see his small mud house, he stopped, appalled. The house was no longer there. In its place was an immense palace of marble and windows of gold, an emerald dome with arabesques of silver, far more sumptuous than the royal palace.

“What did they do to my princess?”, he thought in anguish.

"Where did she go?"

He decided to go into the palace to ask if anyone knew anything about his wife, and he crossed the deserted courtyard with a sinking heart. He spotted a closed door, made of finely carved wood, and stopped in front of it. Before knocking, he heard on the other side a sweet woman's voice saying softly:

"My son, how similar you are to your father."

"When is he coming back?" asked a small boy's voice.

"I really want to meet my father."

"Something tells me he's been through our wheat field before," said the woman.

"Who has already seen our sheep, crossed the river, found all our cows, arrived at our palace and is behind the door, do you want to see him?"

The princess opened the door and her eyes shone like the morning sun.

Guided by the invisible thread of love of a princess who always knew what she wanted, the basket maker Gambar returned home, safe and sound, transformed into another man, the father of a beautiful boy, after a long journey.

#fairy tales #folklore #armenia #folktales #literature #fantasy

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