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#her ashes were kept there so i mean
gloomwitchwrites · 3 months
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Winter Gem
Thranduil x Female Elf Reader
Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort
Word Count: 1.8k
Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.
A/N: For @firelightinferno
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist
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“The first snows have arrived.”
“It has come early.”
Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”
You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.
“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.
“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”
His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”
You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.
“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.
“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.
Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.
Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.
In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.
“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”
You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.
It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.
Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.
While tracking, he lost something precious.
Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.
He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.
This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.
Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.
Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.
As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.
Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.
Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.
“Found you.”
The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.
The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.
Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.
Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.
Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.
The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.
You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.
You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.
And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.
As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.
You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.
A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.
There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.
“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.
“I found you, my star.”
There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.
You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.
Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.
“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.
Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.
“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.
“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.
You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”
Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”
The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”
Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”
“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.
“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.
Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.
He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”
“Thranduil—”
“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”
You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”
“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”
Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”
“Never.”
“Will you hold me?”
“For as long as you like.”
taglist:
@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom
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itsoutrageouss · 2 years
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Can you do an Eddie x reader angst where reader is a cheerleader that has a MASSIVE crush on Eddie. She asked him out but because she’s a cheerleader he thinks it a joke and mocks her etc
a/n: hey sweetheartss- thank you so fkn much for all the love on my last Eddie post. This is sorta similar but a different scenario- hope you enjoy <3
warnings: kinda mean!eddie in the beginning obv, reader feeling humiliated, super mega fluffy cute ending!!!!
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Nice fucking try - e. m.
—☕️
He was never at any of the games- which fair enough, why would he be?
Yet you couldn’t help the disappointment when you scanned the crowd for a specific mop of curls with no luck. You had practiced the fuck out of this routine and yet no one would probably be looking at you- they’d all look at chrissy instead.
It was like this often. You’d search for Eddie, and when you finally caught him, you’d sit and watch his sporadic movements and tales, admiring him from afar. He had sent a couple of sweet smiles your way; that was your only lifeline to him and you being a possibility. You were a cheerleader after all, and you knew how the basket team treated people like Eddie. You knew he probably thought the same of you but you were aching to prove him otherwise.
You had to do something about the way your heart was on fire for him, a bird beating itself to death in a cage, a moth around a lamppost- you couldn’t keep letting it burn until there was only ashes left.
You knew he had his usual hellfire club meeting today, and suddenly the routine you were doing was the least of your concerns- you even stepped on someone’s toes in the process but it didn’t matter. You were going for it. You were gonna give him the sweetest smile and the most sincere smile and ask Eddie Munson on a date, no matter what any of your friends thought. No matter to what depths your social status would go. You would risk it for him, you were head over heels after all.
After changing quickly while ignoring the annoyed look from your friends ‘cause of your routine slip up, you hurried to the hellfire club room.
Rocking back and forth in your converse, you leaned against a locker while fiddling with the strap of your gym bag. No sooner did the door fling open and several members left the room, mainly ignoring you or giving you a suspicious side-eye, except Mike who waved to you, since you knew Nancy. She was one of the few people who you trusted with your feelings about Eddie. When all had left, you stepped inside to see Eddie packing up from the campaign.
You didn’t say anything, heart suddenly in your throat and palms sweaty. The fabric of his white t-shirt was stretching over his back and he reached over the table, not yet noticing your presence.
“Eddie?” You asked softly, but he still jumped at your voice, a few dices clattering to the ground. The room was ominously lit, casting amber shadows over his pretty face.
“Uh, yes?” He asked slightly confused- suspicion already bleeding from his tone. He picked the dice off of the floor and continued to pack everything away while you stood.
“I uhm- well I don’t know if you know my name-“
“- y/n, yeah. I know.” He grumbled, not seeming particularly interested in what you had to say. You tried not to let it defeat the courage that had etched into your skin, dripping on your tongue.
“Was it a good… campaign?” You asked with a weary voice. You had secretly picked up a little starter guide to the dice game Eddie seemed so passionate about, to try and understand him better.
He scoffed. What kind of fucking foolery was the jocks up to now?
He didn’t even bother replying, knowing that wasn’t the reason you were here, was probably a fucking trick question already. You cheerleaders were like little heathens.
When he didn’t reply you felt your face flush in embarrassment- had you said something wrong?
“Okay well uh- I was wondering if,” you stuttered, fumbled over all your words as you kept fidgeting with your bag. The bird in the cage surely almost done for. The moth was growing tired.
“- if you’d like to do something with me sometime? Like hangout? On- on a date or something like that?” You asked. Your voice was breathy and the words came out a lot faster and unsure than you would’ve liked.
Finally he diverted his attention to you, his figure turning torturously slow, a finger raised in the air in front of him. “You’re asking me out?” He asked incredulously. He didn’t believe they would try such an old trick on him.
“Nice fucking tryyyy Princess,” he said loudly, voice dragging out the words- in case any of your friends were on the other side of the door laughing their asses off.
“What, you’d take me out to a nice dinner, laugh at my jokes and let me take you home to my scrappy little trailer? Is that what you want?” He laughed humourlessly, tongue rolling around his cheek while he stalked towards you.
“I- I mean that sounds fine to me?” You tried, voice more unsteady than ever. You couldn’t tell what was happening but the bird and the moth were lying helplessly in your heart and hot tears tickled the corners of your eyes.
“That sounds fine to you? I’m not falling for this shit, little witch. Run back to your friends, will ya?” He didn’t even spare you another glance as he finished cleaning the table and flung his leather jacket on.
You stood motionless, throat bobbing in an effort not to cry. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had completely misjudged you with no after thought- discarded you because of prejudices. You stormed out of the room with a horrible mix of rage and shame washing over you.
—☕️
“Something sick happened when all you little sheep left hellfire yesterday,” Eddie began as he placed his lunch tray drown dramatically. He glared over to the jocks table, surprised to instead find you sitting alone, sulking.
“What’s up?” Dustin asked curiously, biting into his apple.
“Little miss y/l/n tried to ask me out yesterday. Tried to humiliate me- but this mighty fucking game master didn’t fall for it,” he said almost proudly, digging into his lunch.
“Woah she asked you out? Was that why she was outside hellfire?” Mike said, voice borderline serious in a way that caught both Dustin and Eddies attention.
“Yes, so? Was expecting me to waltz right into that little trap,” he scoffed.
“Y/n asked you out? Dude she likes you! Seriously- I heard Nance and her talking about it a couple weeks ago in the car. She’s like over the moon for you, man.” Mike gestured around wildly to punctuate his words and their meaning.
Eddie stopped eating instantly, whatever was in his hand clattering to the tray as he looked over to your hunched figure again- head down, not eating, not talking.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- please tell me you’re joking kid.” He tried desperately, looking between Mike and Dustin who didn’t waver at all. “Nope. No joke. Can’t stop talking about you I swear.”
Eddie buried his head in his hands.
A pretty, nice cheerleader had asked him out- had a fucking crush on him and he mocked her like that? Scared her away? The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks as he dragged his palms over his face and through his hair, reliving the whole experience yesterday; how nervous you had been, how you asked him about this campaign.
Before his mind could prepare him more, he jumped from his seat and ran through the cafeteria, nearly stumbling and drawing all eyes to him as usual.
You looked up, throat twisting into knots as you saw Eddie sit, literally, on his knees on the floor next to the bench where you sat in your solitude.
“Y/n-“ he said, almost out of breath. His eyes were so big and soft, so pleading and glossy, it touched your heart despite the way he broke it yesterday.
“Y/n I’m so sorry. I thought you were messing with me yesterday. Thought it was some kind of joke from your friends or- I didn’t- I didn’t know you meant it but Mike-“ he breathed again, pausing. Everyone was looking at the two of you, your eyes wide at his hasty, guilty confessions.
“Hey, hey-“ you said, placing a hand on his shoulder “-lets uh- go somewhere else, hm?” You tried, standing from the bench. He swallowed loudly before looking around.
“Yeah, yeah okay,” he breathed. When he looked at you then, he swore there was a gleam of something in your eyes.
It was hope.
You took his warm hand and dragged him out into the hall, ignoring the mocking from where your former friends sat. Where you used to be.
Eddie stuck his tongue out devilishly as you passed them before disappearing into the silent hall with you.
“Hi,” you said then, a soft smile splaying on your lips. It made Eddie’s insides flutter, knowing you were being genuine.
“Hey,” he replied with a huff, a broad grin adorning his features now too.
“I’m sorry-“ he began again but you cut him off quickly; his dramatic cafeteria gesture was enough of an apology to you, and you couldn’t even blame him for thinking like that with you being a part of the cheer squad.
“It’s okay, Eddie. I know I don’t seem like the type, but I promise you I- I think I really like you,” you confessed nervously, eyes darting around the tile floor “and I’m not friends with those dickheads anymore. Swear.”
The bird was beating around the cage, wilder and wilder and the moth dances excitedly around the bright burning lamppost.
“So the offers still- its still on?” He asked hopefully. You couldn’t possibly resist those puppy dog eyes he flashed you, the way his hands fidgeted with the rings adorning his slender fingers.
You nodded eagerly, not daring to believe any of this was really happening. “I’m not much for dinners, though” you added. He laughed. A warm sound you could see yourself getting very used to.
“Me neither. We’ll figure something out, hm?” He asked rhetorically, head tilting to the side to peer down at your hopeful face. Your expression made the guilt from yesterday wash away from his conscience, albeit slowly. God you were gorgeous, and he had half a mind to believe he was dreaming in this moment.
“It’s a date, then.” You stated. Before he could reply, you raised to your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently.
A furious red blush crept up on his cheek and neck, his lips parted in surprise.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s uh- it’s a date,” he smiled, flustered as he squeezed your hand.
So damn gorgeous, he thought.
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dmgloom · 10 months
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@yamujiburo this is very much your fault that I had to make this at 4am, but here we are.
The hoot-hoot clock on the wall ticked away the early morning hours as Jessie sat up reading on the couch. It was one of those restless nights where her brain kept reminding her of her various screw-ups. Once, she would have channeled that energy into devising some new caper with James and Meowth, but now they were upstanding citizens- the boys assisting Sam with his research, and Jessie…
Well, here she was, reclined on a couch she helped pick out, living in the house she shared with her wife and her stepson. How much of a screw-up could she really be? Take that, brain.
She only caught herself smiling when it was startled from her face by an unexpected voice.
"Da- Jessie," Ash started from the hallway. "...do you have a minute?"
He called her Dad most of the time because she pretended to be annoyed by it and it was hilarious. To hear him use her name… maybe she had screwed up and the kiddo was about rain down thunderous judgement. Between Delia's cooking and her relative lack of activity- criminal or otherwise- she wasn't sure she was spry enough to go blasting off again.
…But looking at Ash framed in the doorway, she could tell that wasn't the case. He looked small - he was small- only a few years out from the grandest of his adventures when he was ten years old. But he always seemed larger than life, so full of spark and spunk and an eagerness… stuff she'd thought she'd lost long ago. In hindsight, she'd been jealous. But now he looked uncertain. Maybe even afraid.
"What's up, twerp?" She said it warmly- it'd became a term of endearment between them now, though she'd never say it in front of Delia. She folded her book closed and sat up, patting the seat on the couch beside her in invitation. Ash hesitated, looking for a moment like he wanted to flee, but then crossed the room and sat down next to her. "Ash… what's wrong?"
He was quiet for a long moment. Fidgeting with something in his fingers. One of his older badges, worn but well-maintained. A small, bright, multicolored flower turned over between his digits again and again as he gathered his words.
"Do you remember… Celadon City Gym?" He asked finally.
She thought for a moment. Gyms weren't usually her scene, though she'd definitely been to a few, and with Ash… ah. The fire. "Gosh we really bunged that one up. I'm glad no one got hurt." She leaned forward and grasp his arm in sudden realization, "Ash you could've been killed, I'm… I'm sorry."
He smiled and shook his head. "No, not that part. Though I'm glad you aren't blowing stuff up any more." His brief sunny smile slipped back into melancholy. "No I mean, before that. When you helped me get in. With the disguise."
"Oh! That!" Jessie said, relieved, "definitely rushed but some of our better work, if I do say so myself. What about it?"
"I just… nevermind, it's stupid." He moved to stand, but Jessie held him back by his arm.
"Whatever it is, it's not stupid," she said firmly. "Tell me." She relaxed her grip and smiled up at him what she hoped was reassuringly "Please? It'll be okay."
He hesitated again, searching her face for… something, before sitting back down. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.
"Being Ashley… was fun," he said. "I thought it was just the excitement of sneaking in, and it was that, too but… I don't know, it was… easy?" He shook his head. "I think… I wanted to talk to you… and maybe James? I know he… uh… dresses up a lot. Or did." Ash flushed red as Jessie let him talk. She could tell he'd been thinking pretty hard about this- she was touched that he felt he could come to her, with this or indeed at all. She wasn't really sure where she stood with him most of the time, but now… she couldn't help but smile.
"James and I would be happy to talk about anything you wanted, Ash," she said. "I know it probably hasn't been easy- Pallet is kind of a backwater- and you're kind of a high-profile kid… Anyway, we're both here for you, I can wrangle the boys tomorrow and we can send Meowth off to run some errands, if that's what you want."
"Okay," he said. He seemed relieved already, if a bit still uncertain. "Do you think… do you think you could keep this a secret from Mom for now? I don't want to disappoint her."
Jessie gave him a sharp look. "Kiddo, your mother could never be disappointed in you. She almost broke up with me when I said that Riley kid had maybe filled out a bit better than you at the last Indigo awards ceremony." Ash chuckled and she smiled again. "But. I won't tell her if that's what you want. We can talk to her together, when you're ready, if that's what you want."
He nodded and she ruffled his hair. "Alright, get your butt in bed. It's… ouch, almost 4am."
He stood and walked toward the hall, toward his room. He paused in the doorway, filling it more than he had before, somehow.
"Thanks, Dad," he said, and smiled.
"Goodnight… Ashley." She winked. A bit of a nudge, perhaps, but his smile widened as he disappeared down the hall.
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Text
he trims his beard
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Pirate!Price/Reader
God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...
MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference
Summary:
Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.
The Mediterranean Sea, 1708
“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident. 
You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. 
You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on. 
The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner. 
He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin, 
“C’mere, girl.”
You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.
“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand. 
He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,
“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”
He handed you the razor and you took it from him, 
“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”
You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation. 
As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,
“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”
His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare. 
“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”
He smiled, 
“Alright, love.”
He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight. 
At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him. 
You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,
“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.” 
“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion. 
He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple. 
“Is that so?” The captain purred. 
“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”
“Ah, I see.”
He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.
“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”
“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”
He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,
“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”
You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,
“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”
“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”
“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed. 
“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”
You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints. 
“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”
“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”
“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”
“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly. 
It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again. 
“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”
He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.
“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”
“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”
“Name it.”
“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”
“Never. You have my word.”
Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you. 
“I accept.”
“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”
“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”
“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air. 
You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core. 
“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”
“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there. 
“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again. 
He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face. 
“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”
It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth. 
“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”
You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze. 
“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.
“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.
“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.
“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”
He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,
“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”
“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”
He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches. 
“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”
“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core. 
“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”
You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him. 
“What do you ask of me, my love?”
“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”
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ay0nha · 8 months
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An Ode to Ruination | T.S.
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SUMMARY: Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callus to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath. 
PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader
WORD COUNT: 2.5K
WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking, drinking, semi-preoccupations with thoughts of death/suicide, mutual pining, meanish tommy because his feelings are hurt, canon-typical things, protective!tommy, rushed ending, etc.
A/N: Yeah, yeah, I’m back on my bullshit.  This is inspired by @zodiyack​‘s request/post (here). HAD to get it out of my system, I mean look how pretty he is. This is a mix of Old writing I had to dust off the cob webs for mixed with new stuff, so be kind. Enjoy.
“You’re leaving.”
Tommy’s tone was sterile. It left little room for interpretation or defiance. The statement came without hesitation but held pent-up sentiment veiled by familiar poise. You vetted his blank gaze for proper determination of his upset.  
The cracks behind his exterior were so deeply concealed you hadn’t thought anything could slip between. Yet, standing before him, your decision was the ice-pick that’s pressure had shattered him.
“Ada told you?” You hummed with formality; his presence clearly a response to the question. “London will treat me well.”
Tommy tracked your movements. You envied how he filled the space better than you. Perhaps it was the vulnerability in his presence. Regardless, you felt like a guest in your own home. You felt caught, exposed.
The air was thick, causing Tommy’s deep breaths hard to hide behind a crackling record that you had on a continual loop, never able to stand too much silence. Your bags were organized beside the door for the morning, causing your heart to echo against the empty walls.
There was an odd sense of pride you felt with his presence. It confirmed the distant admiration that Tommy held for years. That the shared affection wasn’t something fabricated but complex. You respected his drive, but your desires fell elsewhere. He carved space for you despite your protests, but you could never be the one to fill it—you could never be his.
“A better life, eh?” Tommy mocked you, cigarette rolling over his lips with habit. “Fucks sake.” The confidence in his demeanor faltered. But he regained it quickly with a bitter laugh, “...I’ve given you everything, and here you are asking for more.”
With an instinct to comfort him, you wanted to reach for him. It spoke of your ability to read him and how exhausting it had become to interpret. He would miss you.
“Tommy—” You began. The calmness in your voice was deceiving. You could see it in his face, how expectant he was for you to tell him you’d stay. “—I’m not safe with you.” You paused, letting your admission sink in just as harshly as his words had, “I’m going to London.”
The bliss was idyllic.
Your wrist balanced on the windowsill as you lazily tapped the ash of your cigarette. The cool air caressed your arm and gave you goosebumps that reminded you that you were still alive. Human. Your senses were perked. The city outside kept you attentive as your head rested back. The day was long, but hearing the taxis carrying bubbling people made it worth it. You imagined how some were on their way to find warmth in their home while others were dressed for an endless night of laughter.  
The living room was empty and quiet. You could no longer hear Ada’s shuffling feet above you, ushering both her and Karl to sleep. It was odd that you found such freedom with them. Protection of sorts that you could rely on as a necessary stepping stone. It caused a headache to form at the back of your head, reminding you of your lack of sleep.
Privilege came with the name associated that made your stomach churn.  It was simple to push Tommy into a subconscious level. The task became daunting; an ache emerged from so deep within that it took months to realize from the start he was responsible.   It was as though you could feel how his eyes were still on you.
It became a habit to remind yourself of your newfound safety. The distance created life: happiness and tranquility. You traded bloody nights for bedtime stories, sewing razor-filled caps for gin-filled gatherings, and Tommy’s scarcity of communication for peaceful nights like tonight.
A disruption was overdue. You answered the phone after the third ring.
“Ada?” The voice was unmistakable, even if it was whiskey drenched. It took him a beat to realize you were on the other end. “... ’m callin’ for Ada.”
Chewing on your lip, you debated silence and pretended like the call had never begun. But that incessant ache begged to be relieved.
“I can wake her.” Your voice was soft, promising something you were unwilling to do. It was nicety that filled the quietness you were met with.
“I—uh—” Tommy sighed deeply. The words were lost, jumbled behind an always racing mind. You could picture him well; his crisp shirt no longer having life as it was rolled up by anxiety, his tie no longer present, but still suffocating him, and everything around him reflecting how he moved with an intemperate haze. “—I’m drowning—”
“Tommy…” You refused to burst, but his name on your tongue tattered between warning and heartbreak. When he drank, he opened up to you, a foolish cycle. “Let me get Ada…”
The dark chuckle on the other end forced you to press yourself closer to the phone. “Sometimes, I wish I were dead so you'd think of me.”
A frown perked your lips. You were made out to be more heartless than the most heartless man you knew. It was a naive guilt trip that you almost slipped on. “Be fair to me, Tommy.”
There was a crackle on the other end, a cigarette lit purely by regret. The drag was long, trying to pull something thoughtful from a blurred mind. The reports he received from those he paid off weren’t enough.  You were thriving with his absence, seen with a mix of people who, even acquaintances, valued you better. It elicited resentful envy. However, out of arms reach, you worried Tommy endlessly. The London associates sought blood, no matter who provided it. The paranoia was ruining him, and no answer could reassure him.
“You a communist yet?” Tommy cleared his throat with a vulnerability that was only reserved for this night. Maybe, you thought, it was an effort on his part.
“Almost…” The teasing comforted a dodged homesickness. “Think my card got lost in the post.”
“Shame.” He tutted with a gentle wit. There was a tender sadness he carried with him. It was almost as volatile as his anger. It was easy to blame it on the war, but it had latched onto him long before, never planning to let go.
You imagined how his exhaustion mapped along his body. His body probably mirrored your own; head back, limbs weakly sprawled, heavy-lidded eyes imagining the other beside each other, and a mutual worry that bounced between you.
“I am happy, Tommy…” Your promise was delayed, hardly believable. “Ada and I do miss everyone.”
I miss you.
Tommy hummed, “...have a funny way of showin’ that.”
“You haven’t seen our smoke signals?”
The laugh you were met with was small, light, and barely there, but it rushed through your limbs and heated your chest. You had a moment to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callous to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.  
You knew Tommy would be there. For Ada—you reminded yourself. Yet, seeing him so closely caused your heart to lurch, your blood leaving your extremities with such fascination that you became light-headed.
“Drink.” Ada all but scolded you, crystal pushed into your hand. The instruction was welcomed, but it wasn’t enough to settle you. “Otherwise, you’ll clam up if Tommy bothers to find us.”
Tommy worked the crowd well. It was a feigned charm that he played into only for advantage. Although he claimed to be here for family, business always loomed. Ada hadn’t cared either way, the glitz far too intriguing to question his sudden presence in the city.
“Give him time…” Ada spoke openly to the air, her night’s indulgence tracing her words. “...always time with that one—wastes it, and yet, expects you to be there when he hollers. Does your head in, it does…”
The champagne bubbled down your throat. The night was meant to be celebratory, but you’d be lying if you said you knew why. It was a part of your distinction from the Shelby family that you questioned if ignorance truly brought you bliss.
“Surprised he came himself. Thomas Shelby in the flesh,” Ada continued with ease, mocking her brother. “Surprised he even lifted a pinky. Typically one of his goons—” She looked to you, her revelation cutting her off. “You do understand what you do to him, don’t you?”
“I don’t want to.” Your words were sharp. Your eyes filtered the crowd for the gloved waiter to replace your glass. “There’s nothing that I—I’ve put all that behind me.”
“That?” She pressed with practiced bits of patience. Ada’s smile grew comically. The shy glancing took years to turn into full sentences and Ada knew firsthand how to read her brother, and the way he lingered spoke volumes. He was past smitten.
It was all or nothing; you were it.
You were grateful how her attention shifted to her own relationship. You never tired of hearing how Freddie treated her and loved her since they were children. There was somberness in her eyes, but devotion carried in her words. You saw how she carried him with her; certain mannerisms mirrored not only in her but Karl. Love withstood.
There was a point in your life you believed you’d find something similar. You hadn’t faulted your growing mind; it was natural to romanticism your future at such a young age. Those around you promised there was something fruitful to look forward to. However, life proved difficult; men remained boys, and the only person that you regarded stalked toward you as if you were nothing more than a stranger.
“Ada.” Tommy approached his sister as if she were alone. He’d visited her in the city multiple times but never once shared the air with you. “Enjoying yourself tonight, eh?”
“Mothers can still have fun.” She teased him with a peck on the cheek. Even in her state, she ridiculed her brother’s behavior. With a shoulder pushed against his, Ada encouraged Tommy to acknowledge you. “Have you no manners?”
To others, his expression may have appeared vacant. However, Tommy wrestled with himself, unsure how to maneuver in uncharted territory. Stalling, his eyes danced the crowd as he languidly out his matches and carton. It denoted how natural his icy illusion became, and now he seemed able to practice it on you. Once he landed on you, you realized why he struggled to meet your eyes. It was his only form of self-defense.
“London suits you.” Tommy nodded, his greeting muffled through the newly lit cigarette. The small rush it gave him was enough to stay vigilant.
“It has its moments.”  Your chest perked from the attention and chill, but Tommy’s eyes never faltered from your own. You were daring him to take your body in. It was the sole reason you chose a dress that cut low both front and back.
Tommy was never a blind man.
Nor was his sister. Ada excused herself, claiming whatever ‘this’ was, she wanted no part. You are no fun, she said. However, you weren’t sure who it was directed to. You held back from following her, but your shoulders remained open; you wouldn’t fold into yourself.
“I didn’t know communists could have fun…” Tommy mumbled to himself, eyes going to the crowd once more. Ada’s self-imposed isolation rippled through the family, only fracturing the stress of everyone’s well-being.
A scoff bubbled in your throat, “And what do you know about pleasure?”
“Pleasure?” Tommy became focused and pointed with his words. “Pleasure doesn’t exist.”
Eyebrows cinching with frustration, you stepped closer to be heard, “Don’t pretend like your pleasures don’t have names.”
That drunken call all those nights ago was a mistake. It showed you insight into a dream. In that dream, Tommy was free of what haunted him, light and present. Faithful. There his voice wrapped you in warmth with fulfilled promises. You never were as skilled at hiding your emotions. Your heart was broken on your sleeve.
“I’m going to—
There wasn’t a need for a protective air as those around Tommy knew never to challenge him. However, far and few between, there were those men self-entitled with such idiocy; they couldn’t recognize they were prey.
“Thomas Shelby. Birmingham man in London.” A hand clapped down on his shoulder, breaking the forming bubble around you. “Thought that was you! This must be the missus…”
“Not quite.” Your tone was bare, your hand extending with trained expertise. You could handle pleasantries. But the man was bold, leaving a damp kiss on your knuckles as if marking you.
Tommy was subtle, moving his body to act as a buffer. Fingertips brushy feather-bare against your lower back. You thought it would end there but held back a flinch when Tommy’s warm palm flattened where your back curved.
“Ah, understood!” The man replied with a boisterous cackle. It reflected years of unfiltered nicotine and a wet and sick penchant for bourbon. “I’ll have one of you warm my bed once all of this shit is over.”
You pinned your breath to the roof of your mouth. Your loss for words wasn’t due to the ill-mannered man. It was from the brush of Tommy’s thumb against your skin. It was a comfort and an apology for how he would have to agree with the man to keep him at bay.
It was all a part of the plan you were slowly catching onto.
“A good lay is a good lay, isn’t it, Mr. Shelby?” The man prompted again, a gauge to know if the future alliance would be worth it.
“Exactly right.”
You could storm off, cause a scene. Your anger steeped deeper than that. It lived in your bones, morphing into something vindictive. You stayed the course and played your part willingly. The morals you lectured Tommy on didn’t matter anymore when all along he had the upper hand.
To the man, you were a plaything, someone who the conversation held no standing. The information would be forgotten, implied confidentiality,   as you’d move on to your next client. However, the further you orchestrated the conversation to continue, the more you learned.
The night was a business move, another party dosed in secrets and danger. You took in the man’s features, noting how he was aging, greys just starting to filter through his scalp. Your stomach turned, knowing there would be a bullet between his eyes by the end of the evening. The interaction was a courtesy.
Once alone again, you didn’t hesitate to move from Tommy’s shield. You felt dirtied.
“I can’t believe you.” You spat. “You’re incapable of—
“Enough.” Tommy’s words were low. He pinned you with a look alone, keeping you steady. “You want to run from me, but you can’t.” You battled with him until you lost. His face hardened like you were another associate. “It was him or you.”
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weird-addiction · 1 month
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If you're still writing for hotd, could you do a aemond x twin brother reader (platonic ofc). When aemond loses his eye, his brother takes his own eye on the opposite side as a form of solidarity. They have a close relationship and reader claims cannibal as aemond claims vhagar. I know it's a lot but I thought it was a good idea. Hope you have a great day
~snake anon 🐍
One in the Same
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Pairing: Platonic!Aemond Targaryen x Male!Twin!Targaryen!Reader
Genre: Neutral
Warnings: Gore, taking out an eye, typical violence, threatening someone
Being the twin to a prince was never meant to be easy, well, others at the bottom would say different. That is because they have never been in his position before. Y/n was the fourth child of Alicent and Viserys, the younger twin to Aemond Targaryen. 
They said that the gods flip a coin to determine a Targaryen’s fate when they are born, one side was greatness, the other was madness. If this was indeed true, Y/n’s side of the coin would be sadness. There was not a day from the day he was born that he did felt like a void was inside of his heart, and the only way to fill it was to be close to his twin at all times. 
Since childhood, Y/n clung to Aemond’s side no matter what they were doing. Training, eating, in the library reading, the one thing they did not do was sleep in the same bed. Alicent tried everything to keep Y/n a part, as she was worried that in the future that their closeness would prevent them from finding wives, however Y/n still refused to let his brother go. 
Aemond was dragonless, so was Y/n, they were the only ones without dragons and boy were they bitter for it. 
See, Y/n was what you called the ‘the silent but deadly’ type of person. He told everything, every feeling, every emotion to his twin and no one else. And for this, he had no idea how to express himself to others freely. 
So, he did it through violent means. 
“Behold! The Pink Dread!” Aegon, Jace and Luke all said in a mocking way as the pig stood before them. 
Aemond kept his emotions inside, he would not show them that this got to him. His twin however, did not have the same reaction. 
Y/n did not hesitate as he grabbed Aegon by the collar, his fist raised as he was about to punch him. Aegon was surprised to say the least, as he flinched back from his brother’s raised hand. Jace and Luke were also shocked to see this, as Aegon was the eldest among them so no one went against him. Seeing Aegon’s own younger brother do that to him was not something they expected. 
“Tell me why I shouldn’t make you unable to see Sunfyre for a week, brother.” Y/n spat, his hand did not loosen its grip. 
“I-I’ll tell mother!” Aegon said out as a last resort. 
“Mother? Mother would thank me for knocking some sense into you.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed, the dragon burned within him brightly. 
Aegon managed to shake himself free, himself and their nephews left quickly so as to not anger him anymore. Y/n turned back to Aemond, wanting to comfort him. But, Aemond was already down the pit to see for dragons. Y/n notified a guard and Aemond was taken out before he became ashes. 
“What are you doing?! Are you trying to get killed?” Y/n looked him over for injuries. 
“I’m fine.” Aemond replied quickly, hiding his disdain for dragging him out. 
They were escorted back to their mother who was watching over Helaena with her bugs. 
“Do I have to have you both confined to your chambers-”
“They gave him a pig!” Y/n yelled, cutting Alicent off. 
Her attention went to the younger, then back to the elder to confirm if this was true. Aemond’s face said everything. 
“You both will have a dragon. One day. I promise.” Alicent brought both of her sons into a hug before leaving to talk to her husband and her eldest son for pulling such a trick on his own brothers. 
The dragon did not come to them, even them trying to claim other older dragons did not work. Y/n suggested they go to Dragonstone to take a shot with the dragons there, Alicent allowed after much persuasion. 
Once they arrived on Dragonstone, they went directly to where the dragons were kept. The dragon keepers standing there waiting for them. 
By the end of the day, Y/n had managed to fly around with a dragon so large that the shadow covered all of Dragonstone. Even the keepers were surprised, and when he landed, everyone was stunned. 
Y/n Targaryen had claimed the legendary beast that is Cannibal. 
Y/n climbed down from the dragon’s back effortlessly as he pats its side, running to hug his twin and ask the older about his own dragon. Aemond was impressed by his abilities, but rather sad as he himself was unsuccessful as claiming a dragon. 
“It’s ok! You’ll have one! You will have a dragon with wars and conquests under its belt! I promise Aemond!” Y/n exclaimed as he hugged his brother tight. 
Well, that would come true only a year later as came the death of Laena Velayron. By the end of the funeral, Aemond had run off by himself as he heard the sad roar of a dragon in the distance. 
On the other hand, Y/n was freaking out as he did not see his twin anywhere near him. He wanted to go find him but the guard said he needed to go to bed, but how could he sleep without knowing that Aemond was somewhere else? How could he sleep without knowing if Aemond was safe?
Well, he did not have to wait for long, the guards soon came and escorted him down telling him something had happened to his brother. This made Y/n practically run down the stairs to such a gorey sight before him, his twin flame, his brother who he loved so much was sitting in a chair getting stitches across his eye. Running to Aemond’s side, leeching to the elder’s side as he looked him over for other possible injuries. 
“How did this- what happened?” He quietly asked. Aemond responded with one eye movement, gaze shifting over to their nephews. 
“Which one?” Y/n’s tone now held venom, wanting vengeance and revenge to the one that did this to his twin. 
“The one that I broke the nose of.” His response made Y/n realize, of course, it was not hard to see who he was talking about after all. 
“Lucerys. Of course. Those..bastards.” Y/n truly hated saying that word, he wanted to be close to his nephews, but what they just pulled was not going to be forgotten and forgiven so easily. 
Alicent came over to the twins, giving them concerning glances. Pushing them behind her as she watched Rhaenyra come into the room. The twins held each other’s hands as they waited for what would happen to them. 
“My son has lost an eye!” Alicent exclaimed, gesturing to Aemond who sat in the chair. 
“It was my sons who were attacked, and forced to defend themselves.” Rhaenyra retorted back. “The legitimacy of my son’s birth were put loudly to question.” 
Y/n and Aemond both looked at each other and smirked, they couldn’t help it, everyone who had eyes could see it of course. 
“What did you actually do?” Y/n asked under his breath. 
“Claimed Vhagar. They say I stole her.” Aemond leaned into his forehead against Y/n’s.
“That’s stupid. You can’t steal a dragon, the dragon chooses its rider. Otherwise, I would not be alive talking. Cannibal would have eaten me.” Both of them then tuned out the rest of the conversation. Well, until their mother decided to grab the dagger sitting at their father’s belt and attack their half-sister with it. 
“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?! It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!” Alicent yelled as her wrist was caught in Rhaenyra’s grip. 
“Exhausting wasn’t it? Hiding under a cloak of your own righteousness. Now they see you as you are..” Rhaenyra said back, struggling with holding the queen back. 
Alicent yelled as she forced her hand with the dagger down, the sound of fabric slicing and dagger went through the room. Rhaenyra staggered backwards, Corlys was behind her and managed to hold her before she was going to fall more. 
Aemond stood up with the help of Y/n, walking over to their mother slowly. 
Seeing that Alicent had cut Rhaenyra, Y/n wanted this to end. Grabbing the dagger from the floor before anyone could notice, and what he did next made everyone gasp in shock.
Sliding the dagger across his right eye, with force, the same thing that Luke did to his brother. The blade dropped to the ground again, this time, with way more blood than the last. Clutching his eye in pain, Y/n turned to look at both parties, blood dripping from his socket.
“Now, we are all even. I took my eye, there is no need for Luke’s.” Y/n spoke sternly.
Alicent looked in horror as another son of hers had lost an eye, now it was two eyes instead of one; and it was all from two of her own children and none from Rhaenyra. 
“Your mistake has caused my other son to take his own eye. Is this what you wanted? More of my children mutilating themselves for your sake?!” Alicent yelled, and only silence followed. 
Y/n was sent to the maester immediately as the eye also needed to be taken out. Unlike his twin however, he screamed through the entire process and held onto Aemond’s hand for dear life. Soon, the same stitches covered the scar over his eye, the opposite of Aemond’s. 
For the years to come, the people of Westeros knew the twins as the single-eyed princes. However, no one tried to get close to them. Or rather, it was the twins themselves who refused. They stayed true to each other rather than to marry some stranger they did not know. 
Aemond had a sapphire in place of his missing eye, while Y/n had a ruby in place of his. 
Two spirits stone cold but the sparks of two stones together burned brightly in between them. 
Two of the biggest dragons in the world by their side. 
No one will ever cross them ever again. 
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val-of-the-north · 1 month
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More observations for the trailer I am going insane!!!
I can't claim the original observation of this candle tree detail is mine, but it's from a Japanese Twitter user, here's a screenshot of the post and a link to it as well [x]
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The rest of this observation IS mine though, so let's get to it:
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With all the talk of cardinal sin, Messmer having a few parallels to Lucifer as pointed out by some friends of mine [x] I have to wonder if he is the cause of a speculated first burning of the Erdtree.
If this is the first time you have heard about this concept, I'll give a short summary. You know how Leyndell is covered in ash by the time we reach it in-game, and how that goes unexplained? We know for a fact that must be the Erdtree's ashes because after we claim the Rune of Death and the Erdtree burns even more, the capital is entombed in it.
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We are also told that the Age of Plenty, an age in which the Erdtree gave physical blessings from its sacred sap, swiftly came to a close and the tree had to be changed to simply an object of faith...
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So the theory claims that the reason why the Age of Plenty ended so swiftly was due to the Erdtree being set on fire. In theory spaces, the go-to culprit for this speculated action has often been the Gloam-Eyed Queen, with her connections to fire (Blackflame specifically) and Destined Death, but now there's the possibility that this was all Messmer's doing after all. Promotional material and dialogue seems to really denote his affinity for scorching and setting things ablaze.
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This probably also means he is the inventor of that scary flame construct that according to Miyazaki as per this interview [x] was an old war machine, no doubt used during this "unsung battle".
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Another important part of Messmer's design is the two snakes, which point us back to the Age of Plenty! Godfrey likely ruled during and directly after that time, and the arenas were likely built because of him. It had to be during Godfrey's rule because by the time Radagon became Elden Lord the practices of the colosseums had died down, as told to us by the Ritual Sword and Shield Talismans:
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One of the more interesting aspects of the gladiatorial battles that once took place is the snake symbolism on the gladiators' armor.
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So the snake was a symbol of a generic "traitor to the Erdtree", and it predated Rykard's blasphemy by an entire age at least... so what if it wasn't generic at all and it represented Messmer himself? He might have been the perpetrator of a betrayal so foul that Marika removed all traces of his existence from her empire's history, but kept the symbol of the snake as a spiteful reminder of him and all other subsequent traitors. After all, she does seem to have power over which one of her children gets remembered or not, and if not her, then the collective of the Golden Order:
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Do note that we don't know when she said this. It could have been while she was still at the height of her rule or right before the Shattering. What we do know for a fact is that the soulless demigods inside the Walking Mausoleums have no known history to speak of, which is quite unlike Godwyn, one of the more accomplished members of the family. So yeah, being forgotten by history might be something the Golden Order does to those they deem unfit, so Messmer could be a likely candidate for such treatment... except instead of doing nothing noteworthy he did TOO much lol.
Now I gotta wonder if Marika hated him more or less than her Omen babies. One could argue that locking them down in a sewer close to where she lives was done more as an obligation than any true resentment. She could have sent them to the Shadow Lands if she really wanted them gone and unaccessible, as that place seems filled with Crucible-related things...
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I am not saying she was a good mother to them because she didn't kick them to the Shadow Lands, but perhaps she DID have some small affection for them that she really couldn't follow through with.
Of course, maybe she just couldn't banish them anymore after banishing Messmer for whatever reason (maybe she cut-off a connection to that realm?). However, the most likely possibility is that he WAS known like the many soulless demigods and that Mohg and Morgott predate him. It's just that while those two were born undesirable through no fault of their own and were thus only hidden away, he BECAME undesirable which was worse in Marika's eyes so he gets the extra banishment and the removal of all of his history... there are so many possibilities...
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auras-moonstone · 6 months
Note
Can you write one about Jack or Ethan where it’s based on the song speak now by Taylor swift where the reader is gonna get married but then something dramatic happens or something like that 😭
speak now — ethan landry
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word count: 2,057
pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x slytherin!fem!reader
summary: y/n is forced to marry another man, but ethan was around when the preacher said "speak now."
author’s note: was it necessary for this to be a harry potter au? nope. but arranged marriages are common in the wizarding world so i said why not 🤷🏼‍♀️
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Y/N Y/L/N CAME FROM A PRESTIGIOUS FAMILY OF PURE-BLOOD WIZARDS. And like most pure bloods, her family shared traditional and archaic ideas that pushed her down the rabbit hole she was now trapped in.
It had been the cruelest of summers. She had found out that she was getting married to one of the most disgusting boys she had ever met. Enzo was a Slytherin, just like her, and was constantly strutting around the castle, with his chin held high like he was better than everyone, and constantly bullying those who weren't pure bloods—Ethan Landry being his constant punch ball. Hence why Y/N hated Enzo so much.
Ethan was Y/N's best friend. He was also a Slytherin, but unlike most of the students in there, he was a muggleborn. Their connection had been instant, and Y/N had surprised Ethan with her open mind and kind heart despite her backgrounds. She was his only friend, due to the rest of the house looking at him as if he were dust under their shoes, but he didn't care—Y/N was all he needed. He had become so accustomed to being by her side that on summers he felt empty, and spent all those months counting the days until they were back at Hogwarts.
When he found her on an empty wagon, his smile couldn't have been wider. Y/N's mood lifted up a bit, but her smile wasn't as lively as usual. Ethan noticed she was paler, she had dark bags under her eyes and her gaze had flickers of sadness.
"Hey... what's wrong, love?" Ethan wrapped her in his arms.
"I missed you, E. This summer has been hell, and it's only going to get worse." Y/N said, trying to hold back the tears, but her voice gave her away.
"What happened?" he asked worried.
"I'm getting married. My dad arranged it. I'm going to be Enzo's wife in a month."
Ethan's world stopped. His body grew still, his surroundings froze and his joy turned into ashes. The idea of her with another boy made him want to throw up, but the thought of her being forced to marry someone she didn't want? It made him furious, made him want to scream and avakedavra everyone but her.
"What happens if you say no?" Ethan managed to ask.
"They will disown me, probably kick me out of the house"
"That is not so bad, isn't it? I mean, it is bad, but worse than being married to that pig?"
"Eth... I have no one else, nowhere to go. And yeah, marry Enzo is not ideal but that doesn't mean I have to... do romantic stuff, right? I won't kiss him, or even share a room with him." she said hopeful.
"For now, Y/N/N. Now it's only marriage, but soon it'll be about expanding the bloodline, you know that."
"Yes, I know." and that's the moment she started to sob. "I have no choice, Eth."
"Live with me." he blurted, making her look at him in shock. "I'll talk to my dad. We are three siblings, but we can share a bed, or I'll take the couch and you can sleep on my bed. We'll see, but please Y/N you can't marry him."
"Eth, that's so nice but I can't accept that offer. I'll be completely cut off, so I won't be able to pay for the food or the rent, or the stuff for school. And I sure as hell won't let your dad pay for me, even if he says yes."
"But-"
Y/N cut him off "That is my final word, Eth. Please, I don't want to keep talking about it. I just want to be with you and forget about everything else. Tell me about your summer."
"It was okay. I missed you like crazy, though. I kept expecting to hear your voice and your contagious laugh" he said. Their eyes met, and the room got thick with tension. There was a big elephant in the room, and he was determined to address it. "Been thinking all summer about what happened at King's Cross at the end of the year."
"I shouldn't have done that." Y/N shook her head.
"You regret it?" his voice came out in a whisper because the words she said had cut him deep.
"I didn't, until my father told me he basically sold me to Enzo." she said. "That kiss was all I ever wanted. You are everything I ever wanted, and for a few days, I thought I could have. Now, you're everything I ever wanted but can't have."
"Says who?"
"Um, my father? Enzo? Enzo's family?"
"Who gives a fuck about them?" he said bluntly. Before she could open her mouth, he continued. "Do you want to be with me?"
"Ethan of course I want to be with you, but-"
"Then be my girlfriend, I want to be with you, too." he grabbed her hands.
"I can't be your girlfriend only for a month, Ethan. That's not fair to you."
"Who says it should only be for a month?"
"You're not making sense right now. I'm getting married."
"Yeah, and I'll still be your boyfriend. No one has to know what we do."
"That's bloody crazy, Landry. What happens when I have to... get pregnant, form a family." God, the thought disgusted her but it was the truth. That was women's purpose in the pure blood community—to marry and have children.
Ethan's jaw clenched. "Don't say that."
"You said it yourself minutes ago. No matter how much we hate it, it's the truth. That is my future."
"Then let's be together until the day of the wedding" he said defeated. The word ‘wedding’ made his stomach turn. "I don't want to be left wondering what we could've been together. Let's enjoy the time we have, let yourself enjoy the freedom you have left."
Ethan was right. She was not going to let those devils ruin the last few days of happiness she had left. She could see the end even as it began. But he was standing there, so tall and handsome as hell, and he made her so happy that she couldn't refuse. "Okay."
"Yeah?" he said surprised.
Y/N smiled and nodded. "Yes. Let's do it. I want to be with you."
"Can I kiss you now? I've been waiting the whole summer."
"God, yes."
The couple exited the train with swollen lips, messy hair, wrinkled clothes and sparks flying around them.
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THIRTY DAYS LATER, IT WAS TIME TO CAGE THOSE SPARKS AND LOCK THEM FOREVER. Both teenagers spent their last night tangled up together, with Ethan's hands in her hair and clothes on the floor of the room of requirements.
The memory of Ethan sleeping so peacefully on her shoulder was a memory that would follow Y/N around forever. It was going to haunt her and break her heart every single time because she would never get to see it again. He wasn't the one he was going to wake up next to, and the realization took her down. Once she was out of that door, her life of eternal sadness would begin.
"Good morning, love." his familiar voice whispered on her ear.
"Hi, handsome." she smiled sadly. "How is it that you look this gorgeous even first thing in the morning?"
"I don't know, I should ask you that." he kissed her collarbone.
They spent a few minutes in silence, holding each other. But Y/N knew it was time to go. In a few hours, she would have the weight of a ring on her finger. "Eth..."
"Just a few more seconds, please." his voice was thin, and his eyes were shut trying not to let the tears fall.
"I don't know if this is going to make things worse, but I need you to know. Eth, you are the love of my life."
"You are the love of my life, too. Knew it since the first time we met, when you jinxed that asshole who called me a mudblood."
"I'm the knight in shinning armour to your damsel in distress" Y/N joked.
"I love you" Ethan said grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles, never taking his eyes off hers.
"I love you, too." but I have to go, were the words that she didn't say but floated in the air. Ethan nodded, and she got up put her clothes on and dragged her feet towards the door, her steps as heavy as the pain in her heart. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and left, leaving her happiness behind.
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ETHAN'S INVITATION HAD BEEN WITHDRAWN BY THE LOVELY BROOM-TO-BE. Yet, he was not going to let Y/N feel alone in that awful day, so he sneaked inside the church and hid in the curtains. He had a good view of the whole scene—the guests, Enzo’s snotty little family, who had chosen an awful pastel theme, Enzo standing straight in his light grey suit and the preacher behind him.
Then an organ started to play a song that sounded like a death march. Seconds later, the wide tall wooden doors opened and Y/N entered in her flowy lilac dress. Scanning the room, her eyes caught sight of Ethan and after the shock disappeared, she had to bit back a smile. She knew this was hard for him too, so the fact that he still went to support her made her love him even more.
His eyes followed her figure until she stopped in front of Enzo. On the outside, they looked great. Her dress had little grey details that matched his suit and they both were extremely good-looking. But it didn't matter how handsome Enzo was, Ethan knew Y/N wished the one standing beside her at the altar was him.
Once the attention of the people was at the front of the room, Ethan sat on the last row alone. His focus was on the beautiful bride, who was trying to mask her sadness with a fake and tense smile. He frowned in discontent. He couldn't let her become her signature, he couldn't let her live an unhappy life.
And then, he heard the preacher say, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."
The complete silence that embraced the room after those words was interrupted by the screeching sound of the wooden bench. It wasn't until he felt eyes on him that Ethan realized he had stood up, and then his senses came back at once. His hands were shaky and sweaty, his mouth was completely dry and his breath got caught in his throat. He could feel the horrified looks of everyone in the room, but he was only looking at her.
"I don't know what I'm doing, to be completely honest. I never thought I would ever barge in on a white veil occasion, but I can't let you do it, Y/N/N. You shouldn't be marrying the wrong boy. Please, don't say yes."
Enzo was practically killing him with his eyes, and if there weren't so many people around, he may have thrown the killing curse at him. But right now, Ethan would take every curse and jinx if it meant Y/N's life wouldn't become a hellhole.
"Ethan..." it was the only thing that came out of her mouth. Her head was spinning like a tornado.
"No, you need to hear me out" he begged. "It's going to be difficult, but we're going to get through it together. You are the love of my life, and I'm yours. Please don't marry him. Let's ran away now. I love you"
"Y/N stop this nonsense. Someone guide the mudblood out."
Before Y/N knew it, her clenched fist impacted with Enzo’s face and gasps echoed in the room. "Don't you ever insult my boyfriend again. Don't test me, Enzo. I know more dark curses than you could ever imagine, and I'd love to try them on you."
She took her heels off and ran down the aisle and into Ethan's arms. "Holy shit, that was so hot. I love you." he yelled as they sprinted out of the church hand in hand.
Y/N laughed. She felt happy, free and completely fearless. "I love you too. I'm so glad you were around when they said speak now."
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sissyisawitch · 2 months
Text
It'll Be Okay
Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x You
Summary: After the macabre events that occurred in the Feldcroft Catacomb, Sebastian is devastated. All he can think about is running away and pushing you away from him… but you don't plan to give up on him so easily.
Word Count: ~2.7k
Author's Note: This story is based on the song "It'll Be Okay" by Shawn Mendes. I hope you'll enjoy reading it!💙
Warnings: Major spoilers for the "In the Shadow of the Relic" quest + Angst
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“I won’t let her suffer! Avada Kedavra!”
A flash of green light struck Solomon Sallow’s body, before it fell limp on the ground. Sebastian had done it. He had killed his uncle.
Oh, the future we dreamed of is fading to black…
He dropped his wand which clattered on the ground.
And just like that, you and Sebastian's future plans vanished, completely ruined. They used to seem so simple... you were supposed to cure Anne with the relic, make her return to Hogwarts, and then be happy all together with your little quartet of friends.
But as fate would have it, that was never going to happen.
A high-pitched, distraught voice brought you out of your thoughts, “Depulso!”
Anne had appeared in the Catacomb and apparently witnessed the whole tragic scene that had just unfolded, whereupon she herself attacked her twin brother, propelling him with all her might against one of the stone walls to stop him.
Driven by her fiery anger, she used what little strength she had left to cast a couple more spells to defeat the remaining Inferi and reduce Salazar Slytherin's Spellbook to ashes.
“NO!” Sebastian howled. He could do nothing but watch his sister destroy the book that was supposed to contain all the solutions to save her life.
“You’ve made your choice.” She said simply, before disapparating with the inert corpse of their uncle.
“Oh, Anne… What have you done?”
Oh, there's nothing more painful. Nothing more painful…
You were paralysed, unable to move even a finger after witnessing such a heartbreaking scene where a family was completely shattered, with no means or hope of ever repairing their ties. Poor Sebastian was left entirely alone, tears in his eyes, his face contorted by his crushing grief and regret. Merlin, you hated that sight with all your heart.
“I-I must get out of here.” He mumbled as he stood up and quickly looked at his surroundings, as if he were completely disorientated.
“Seb, wait!” You tried to hold him back, but Sebastian would not listen.
Instead, he fled. He ran like mad towards the exit of the Catacomb, desperate for fresh air.
“SEBASTIAN!” You shouted at the top of your lungs as you sped after him, hoping that it would be enough for him to hear you despite his head start.
It was only when you had made your way up the labyrinth of tunnels, once you were back in the Feldcroft countryside and away from the heavy atmosphere of the dusty Catacomb, that you managed to catch up with Sebastian.
Now that he was close at hand, you reached out to grab his arm, “Sebastian, stop!”
“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” He roared, sending your hand flying with more force than he would have used if he were in his normal state of mind.
You flinched out of reflex, but you were in no case scared of the boy. You never had been, and you knew you never would be. You understood that he was simply on edge and needed reassurance, so you kept your soft tone, “Seb–”
“STOP SAYING MY NAME!” He continued to shout in anger, but the way he was now gripping his hair and pulling at the roots showed that annoyance was being added to the palette of overwhelming emotions he was feeling at the moment. “For fuck’s sake I should’ve known better than to become friends with you in the first place.”
This. This last sentence. Maybe he could not scare you, but you too often forgot that he was still capable of hurting you, even if he did not mean any of it and it was his amalgam of panic and agitation that got the better of his words.
You tried your best to remain unfazed, “So what? You'd rather our paths had never crossed?”
“Yes!” He exclaimed without thinking twice.
I start to imagine a world where we don't collide…
For a moment, you lost yourself in your own thoughts. You imagined a parallel universe where you had never defeated Sebastian in Defence Against the Dark Arts, where he had never accompanied you to Hogsmeade on your first day at Hogwarts, and therefore a universe where you two had never become friends or exchanged a single word.
It also meant a world where you never fought trolls, goblins, and poachers together, where you never spent long nights in the Undercroft doing nothing but talking, where he never held you in his arms and comforted you whenever you were not at your best, resulting in your feelings for Sebastian blossoming into something much stronger and more genuine than friendship.
“Well, I don’t.” You finally answer.
“Well, you should.” He imitated your intonation with irritating impertinence.
You paid no attention to it, knowing better than to take any of his irrational actions into account, “Why?”
“BECAUSE I FUCKING RUINED YOUR LIFE!”
The screaming was back. Taking you by surprise once again. However this time, you were unable to react. The rawness and vulnerability of his words had hit you right in the heart, knocking the wind out of you.
“I have to go.” He muttered after your lack of reaction. He turned his back on you before setting off again, this time clearly determined to leave.
This was the moment that snapped you out of your stunned confusion, “Oh no, don’t you dare run away from me, Sallow!”
Your feet reacted even faster than your brain. You rushed towards him, but knew you would not have enough strength to hold him back, so you did the only best thing you could think of... You lunged at him and tackled him to the ground. Your body crashed into his with full force, causing his back to slam against the hard, cold, snow-covered ground.
“LET ME GO!” He fought back, kicking in all directions to try and push you off him.
“NEVER!” You pinned him down with all your strength. You were pressed on top of him while holding his hands on either side of his head, and keeping his thighs flat with your own legs. “Because you didn’t ruin my life, Sebastian.”
“Are you hearing yourself right now? I spent months teaching you dark magic. I just killed my uncle in front of you. You're a witness to a murder because of me! You could be sent to Azkaban BECAUSE OF ME! What more do you need to hate me? Tell me, because I'll do it right away if it means you'll stay away from me and be out of danger!”
And it's making me sick, but we'll heal and the sun will rise…
Sebastian's words made your blood run cold. Not because they made you reflect on everything he had put you through, but rather because you wondered how you were going to make him understand that you were not blaming him for anything, that the idea had never even crossed your mind.
“We can get past this. We can make things better together.” You said softly, unable to muster a better response.
He only scoffed bitterly.
“Sebastian, I don’t want to hate you, I want to be here for you!”
Judging that he seemed slightly calmer, you allowed yourself to release one of his hands to cup his cheek instead. With your thumb, you caressed his tanned skin, tracing the freckles splattered across his cheekbones. You did your best to convey your honesty and all your love for him through your delicate touch.
“No.” He replied firmly, leaving no room for negotiation, and then took advantage of your lowered guard to push you away again, this time with his hand which was now free. “Now leave me alone!”
If you tell me you're leaving, I'll make it easy…
You gave up being gentle and tackled him firmly to the floor again. You just needed him to listen to you for a few more minutes, “Okay. I won’t force you to stay if you don’t want to… But you need someone, Sebastian. Please, let me help you.”
“I don’t want your help!” He spat with a fury that was rarely seen in him. You had only seen it once... when he called you ignorant.
“Maybe you don’t want it, but you need it.” Now that everything had been said, you got out of his way to let him go if he so wished.
It'll be okay…
Sebastian sat up again, but stayed there, against all your expectations. You knew that all he needed was one last little push before he surrendered, so you insisted, “Don’t shut me out. Let me be here for you.”
“I–” His voice broke, giving way before he could even begin his sentence. His bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t mean to kill him. He attacked us… attacked you. I had to use the Killing Curse. You know I did!”
“I know. You did your best to protect me.” You reassured him by taking his hands in yours and giving them a little squeeze.
“I never meant for all of this to happen. I just wanted to help Anne.” It was not long before tears started to stream down his cheeks. “I want this hell to be over. Please make it stop.”
“I wish I could… but–” Now it was your voice's turn to fail you.
“I just want my little sister back.”
“I know you do… I know.” You swallowed hard to fight the tears that started to blur your vision. You could not allow yourself to cry. You had to stay strong for him. You had to be the pillar on which he could rest, because right now, he needed your help. If he saw you crying, it would only make things worse. This was not about you.
So you cuddled him against your chest, firstly to comfort him, and secondly so that he would not see the look of total dismay on your face.
“Ominis hates me too, and I can’t even blame him, because I hate myself too.” He was now full on breaking down, his head buried against your chest, and his tears streaming down your uniform jumper.
“I’ll love you enough for the two of us, then… until you learn to love yourself again, and even after.”
“I want the pain to stop. It’s been there for too long. I can’t stand it anymore.” The more time passed, the more erratic his breathing became.
“I know, baby. You’ve been so strong.” You kept spouting all the soothing words you could think of, in the hope that they would work on him.
“Please, make it stop. Please.”
“I’d take it all for you if I could. But I can’t, and I’m so sorry. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel better.” You slowly ran your fingers through his silky brown locks, over and over again. Then you felt yourself losing your grip on your emotions, and soon your tears were flowing alongside Sebastian's.
Sebastian Sallow – the boy who was never afraid of anything and always had a trick up his sleeve – was on his knees in front of you, crying his eyes out, rendering him nothing more than the very image of misery and helplessness.
It was agonising to see the boy you loved in such a state, and not be able to do anything to make him feel better. How were you supposed to remain impassive in the face of that?
“Please fix everything. Fix me.”
“I can’t…”
And if we can't stop the bleeding… We don't have to fix it, we don't have to stay…
Sebastian's sobs continued unabated, “I’m scared to stay with you. I know I’ll end up doing something stupid and lose you too. Because that’s what I do… I do everything in my power to make the people I care about leave.”
This time, it was all too much. You could not let him belittle himself so cruelly. You grabbed his face between your hands and forced him to look straight into your eyes, not caring if they were red and swollen from all the crying, “Don’t say that. I know you made mistakes, but you’re one of the most brilliant wizards before anything else. You’re the only one who was great enough to steal my heart.”
“You’re everything I have left… I can’t lose you. Not you.” He clutched your shirt in his fists, as if he was afraid you would suddenly vanish before his eyes.
“Baby–”
Everything you were going to say died on the tip of your tongue... because Sebastian smashed his lips against yours.
You did not know exactly how it happened. You did not realise it right away because it occurred in less than a split second. And yet it was well and truly real.
There was nothing tender or romantic about that kiss. No, it was just rough, brutal and messy, reflecting all the despair they contained deep inside. It was a kiss full of passion, but not the kind that made you feel light and gave you butterflies in your stomach. Not at all, it was a toxic passion that burnt the wings off these butterflies and everything around them.
Sebastian was clutching you by the shoulders as if you were his lifeline, the only thing keeping him from tipping completely over into the darkness. And you, you kissed him back fervently, fighting the little voice in your head that was whispering to you that what you were doing was wrong, that you never should have discovered how salty his tears tasted as you kissed him for the first time.
You had to call a spade a spade, you should not be taking advantage of his vulnerability to get what you had always dreamt of... but you could not help yourself. Sebastian was hypnotic, and you could not bring yourself to pull away from him.
It was he who retreated first, and you instantly hated how his big chocolate eyes were filled with nothing but sheer panic, “I feel like I’m going to die without you… What if I die without you?”
Your heart pounded so hard to the point where it felt like you had a lump in your throat. You let out an overwhelmed and broken sob, “You’ll never find out because I’ll never leave you. You hear me? Never. I’m here for better or for worse.”
I will love you either way…
Sebastian let himself fall against your chest, and you welcomed him into your arms without the slightest hint of reluctance. You let him rest there, let him cry, tremble against you, while you caressed his untameable hair and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, doing your best to stop your own tears from flowing. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but it felt like an eternity. You were probably freezing and soaking wet from sitting in the snow for so long, but thankfully you were unable to feel it thanks to the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
“Shh… It'll be okay…”
It might be so sweet… It might be so bitter…
In the months you had known Sebastian, you had imagined an infinity of different scenarios of the two of you kissing for the first time. None of those fit with the reality of Sebastian breaking down in your arms after committing murder. The situation had nothing in common with what you had wished for the two of you. You had finally got what you wanted, but you hated it. You just wanted to scream. Fate was even more cruel than you believed.
"Make the pain go away, please." Sebastian begged desperately, echoing your own inner thoughts.
"I'll do everything I can. I’ll do everything to give you the future you wanted." You cried uncontrollably.
Oh, if the future we've dreamed of is fading to black…
Minutes, hours passed, and your tears eventually dried. You spoke again, very quietly, as if afraid to frighten the peace that was slowly beginning to return, “We’ll get through this together, alright?”
“…I’m a monster.” He declared with resignation. He too had run out of tears to cry.
“You’re not.” You replied with just as much conviction.
“What if I get even worse? What if I end up hurting you?” He asked quietly.
“I will love you either way.”
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millerscoffee · 9 months
Text
dancing is a dangerous game | part one
you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars.
5.5k | joel miller x f!reader
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masterlist
rating: 18+ MDNI
tw: brief mentions of using your body for trading purposes, you shoot at joel miller????, light dub-con but that goes away quickly
warnings: post-outbreak au. no ellie. angsty smut, semi-dom!reader and dom!joel so that's fun, power struggle, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), enemies to lovers, voyeurism (f watching m), masturbation (m and f), pet names/degrading names (baby, honey, darlin', brat, bitch, slut, etc.), dirty talk, choking, oral (m receiving), fingering, spanking, p in v (unprotected - wrap it up folks), joel is mean but not unkind. no use of y/n.
summary: inspired by "cowboy by me" by our lord and savior taylor swift. this is a post-outbreak world and joel has his own land. think bill, but a little less... deranged. kind of. you essentially are a raider, but make it fashion. when you stalk joel's cabin for the third day, that's when you get interrogated by none other than joel miller himself.
A/N: hi, i'm bee! this is my first fic on tumblr, and my first stab at this whole stratosphere. longtime listener; first time caller 💅. i was ALSO inspired by an ask i saw on @swiftispunk's page (hi! i love your writing sm??) and kinda just... ran with it. i honestly wasn't anticipating writing stuff during the outbreak, so i apologise if it's not quite right. imagine me living during that time with a tube of lipgloss and one (1) bullet in my pocket just in case. this... may be a series. i don't know yet. see ya! enjoy!!!
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The first time you meet Joel Miller is down the barrel of your gun.
You can hear your father's voice telling you 'Back out, girl. Don't get too big for your britches.' Look where that got him. His ashes against your chest in a makeshift pendant necklace, buried by your clothes.
Still, you listen.
"It don't have to be like this," you drawl with index over the trigger guard. You've heard of him. Joel Miller. He's notorious, and even though you've kept to yourself most of your life, his name still roamed throughout the abandoned towns you passed. Someone always owed him, and he always owed somebody.
Your dad would've been older than him, but not by much. You knew of the world before this, was just a little thing. Still, you heard stories undulate from your father's southern voice that mostly left you bored on long days searching for food or shelter. You'd give anything to hear them now.
Part of you died when he did.
You were young when the outbreak happened. Resourceful, your father made it work in raising you. Taught you how to fend for yourself, rely on no one. Which was no easy feat considering how unbelievably stubborn you were. Were? Are.
Maybe he loved you. Maybe it was the chip on his shoulder. The kind of anguish that comes from not being able to give your mother the same kind of life. A promise to her.
Yes, you were young when the outbreak happened, but flashbacks of her getting attacked by a clicker burn you alive at night.
"Y'er on my land." A gruff voice calls you back to reality. Few words for someone who held your life in his hands. His own gun pointing back at you. Of course it would be.
"I was just passin' through." The lie flies through your teeth. You had been circling the place from a reasonable distance for a few days now. Scoping out when this man in front of you was his busiest, when he patrolled, when he slept. This was a heist situation, no doubt about it.
"Bullshit. This s'the third fuckin' time I seen you 'round here. And it's y'er last."
Shit. Fucking shit.
Your eyes dart to the side, really trying to pattern a plan in escaping but your breathing would say otherwise as calm and collected as it was.
In any other situation, you wouldn't be so willing to comply, but considering he's got you cornered and his gun is quite literally cocked and ready to go – you're not exactly in the position to make hasty decisions.
Goddammit if there wasn't something about him that made you nervous.
"Listen. Just was lookin' for somewhere to sleep. It's fuckin' cold and your stables look warm." Your head tilts in the direction of a lone horse's home in a bed of hay, and you're not fully lying. It's not that you have set up camp by any means, but you've noticed.
"We could trade. You give me y'er ammo, and I g–"
"You give me your cock, I get it. You really could be more original." You were used to this. Bartering, some might call it. Living out here on your own was dangerous, and running into men who wanted to use your body in order to get supplies wasn't that uncommon. If they were that kind, even. You'd heard the horror stories.
Albeit, most of these men met your gun in the end. Enabling you acquire their supplies, keep all yours, and your dignity. Win/win.
"...I give you the pleasure of livin' another day. Really? Y'think it's that easy?"
There was something in the way Joel says this that makes you grateful for the jacket you're wearing. Goosebumps prickle your skin, bile creeping up your throat and you will it back down again. Y'think it's that easy? As if he thought you wanted it.
If circumstances were different, you'd be rubbing the crimson off your cheeks. Flashing him a sheepish grin in an attempt to resolve whatever misunderstanding there was... but this wasn't the environment to elicit such conversation.
And you weren't that type of person to begin with.
Instead, your index sweeps from guard to trigger when you fire off at his leg. Hasty decisions be damned. You're quicker than him, so why're you tryin' to save him? You're a 'shoot to kill' type of person, and as the bullet grazes past his calf – part of you wishes you had.
Because not only did your bullet not make contact, Joel gets worse. You two lock eyes. His rifle is thrown over his shoulder as he grunts and walks perfectly fine over to you – despite the way his eyebrows knit together, jaw ticked. Was that a grin? Do something, anything – run.
Joel grips the nape of your neck, and you yelp in surprise.
Who the fuck does this man think he is?
His large hand eclipses your wrist as he maneuvers the gun from your hand. The action makes you writhe in pain, and it sends a shiver down your spine to know he's only using an ounce of his power.
You dig your elbow into his ribs despite him stronger than you. Stomping, kicking, punching anything you can find.
"What the fu–"
"Little girl, you picked the wrong one." His breath edges at the shell of your ear, and every sign should be pointing for you to hate this, but it almost feels familiar. Like yourself. It's only then when you worry.
---
You don't realise it, but Joel is pushing you inside his cabin. Keeping your head in direction of the ground, thud of the door heard somewhere behind you.
"You want to be treated like a big girl? Get these fuckin' pants off."
"What... what? No I'm fuckin' not–"
Joel chews up the space between you when he pushes you to the nearest wall. Your back at his chest, a cheek flush against the cabin's support.
Pine, tobacco, and whiskey fill your senses and you bite back the urge to whimper. He wouldn't see you like that.
"You're not? That why you were watchin' me jerk off last night? 'Cuz you don't wanna give it up?"
That alone makes blood creep up your neck and spill over your cheeks. You have to squeeze your legs together to quell the ache.
It was lonely on your own.
Most nights were spent half asleep on a cold, hard surface. Tired and hungry more days than not. You don't remember the last time you got a hot meal, much less been touched. So when you heard Joel's low grunts coming from the window (a window from a cabin you don't know quite yet that he built with his own hands) you become intrigued.
It's in this moment you're certain it must have been the rustling of branches just outside his room. You remember it happening last night, cursing to yourself for making noise. His fist stalled around the girth of his fat cock before spilling his seed over his stomach. As if that is what caused him to come.
It makes sense now, and it equally causes you to become dizzy and filled with rage. You bite your bottom lip, unable to think of a response.
"Mouthy thing ain't got much to say now. Now c'mon. I ain't taking these off you, doin' it y'erself." More of a warning, Joel lets up on his grip on you, but you're defenseless. No weapons, no pack. He's got your world in his hands.
With the newly found space between the two of you, you turn around – back of your head against the wall as your eyes find the other set for, perhaps, the first time. And they're deep. Deeper than you were aware of. Dark, impossibly round. Wrinkles reside on the sides of them, and if you knew any better, you wouldn't admit they were doing something to you.
But not only are you stubborn, you're too forthright to beat around the bush.
"I shot at you, and you want my cunt? You must be lonelier than I a–"
"Now."
Your words don't match your actions as your hands fall by your sides. Fingers play with zipper of your old, faded jeans that have seen better days.
You can't help but snicker an awkward laugh from how he's just watching you. Insecurities rise when you realise you're not laughing at him, but more his eyes on you. How intense it feels suddenly. He wants this. Wants you.
His eyes draw impatiently, broad frame leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.
"Ain't got all day. Still considerin' your death."
His arms. Bulging through the fabric of his shirt, his body was built in a way that you could tell he worked with his hands... maybe in his past life, too. Throat dry, you shimmy out of your pants until you're left in your cotton panties.
Ones that you are becoming more aware the condition of. A small pool of wetness forming at the core of you clings to the fabric.
"Top, too."
Is that? It is. Your eyes wander down to see the growing bulge in Joel's pants. Not even the hem of his flannel could hide it. Sure, you'd seen it in its full form the night before, but that was with distance and without the heat rising between the two of you.
You bite your lip without hesitation, pulling the layers of jacket and a handful of tops onto the ground until you're bare. The cool air passes over your nipples and wills them into stiff peaks.
"Ain't you somethin', baby."
That's the first time Joel Miller draws a shaky exhale out of you. All from a single sentence.
When Joel steps over to you, that calm and collected breath is nowhere to be found. Your chest rises and falls at a random pattern, feeling more and more naked by the second as his clothes are completely kept on his body. A purposeful tactic.
He bends down to collect your clothes along with everything else that yours, and you are truly at his will. So busy on the precipice of pleasure that you don't even think about trying to get away.
"Stay."
"Ain't a dog." You glare, standing with your legs brushing together.
"Then quit actin' like a bitch. And quit movin', I'm gettin' to you."
It shuts you up quick, jaw snapping shut. You're certain if he told that to anyone else they'd be reduced to tears, but you can take it. It coils a heat inside the pit of your stomach that you've never felt. Causes your clit to feel as if it's on fire from the need to touch it.
Joel turns on his heel to walk away and it's as if you're able to breathe fresh air from the humidity he brings. You notice he's putting your things and his rifle away on his kitchen counter before coming back to you. He must really trust his ability to keep everything out like that.
Then again, have you even moved in the last five minutes?
The last thing he is, is worried.
You're able to look around, if only for a moment. Though, is it really looking? Your adrenaline is pumping, pupils blown from the fact that not only are you in the house you'd been stalking... you're about to fuck the man in it. And you almost tried to kill him. You definitely didn't miss on purpose. Couldn't have.
All the same, the cabin was nice, and you could take in briefly the light wood – old and weathered. A record player in the corner beside a guitar. This stuff could get you a lot in return, but for whatever reason that doesn't even cross your mind. Maybe your heart beating in your ears is a handy distraction to keep you walking the line.
Your eyes track the rugged man instead.
---
"Here's how this is gonna go," he announces, coming back to you and not phased that you haven't moved a muscle. "You are gonna take your ass over there on the couch. You're gonna make me come, then you're gonna go. Understand?"
"Well... I guess it is that easy."
Your bratty mouth getting you in trouble again. As if you're in the position to say anything. Naked as you are.
---
Joel's jaw ticks forward in a way that makes you feel fear, yet there's a direct correlation between it and the slick gathering between your folds. The same wide hand that gripped the nape of your neck wraps around the front of your throat while he pushes you against the wall, and your shoulders slump – all but folding instantly.
His mouth is inches from yours, forcing you to look him in the eyes.
"Listen here. I've been real kind to you. Coulda killed ya day one, tryin' to steal my shit like that. Was gonna be real kind in where I fucked ya, too. Now we're gonna fix that mouth a'yours and fast. Knees. Now." You soon come to know this isn't a suggestion. It's not even a warning. It is what's happening.
It's in the way Joel's hands guide you down onto your knees. He goes for his belt and you hear and see that distinct clang of metal untangle before your very senses. Your mouth waters instantly, teetering into fully giving into this struggle of power.
Joel's hands are calloused. You can tell he takes care of them, but that doesn't hide the wear and tear. Specifically on his fingertips. They grip your jaw roughly, and you choke back a moan as your mouth hangs open pliantly from this. Every nerve ending buzzing to be touched.
"Where'd that bratty girl go, huh? You done bein' big and bad – wanna be a slut, don’tcha?"
Your eyelash splay along your cheeks as you nod, and you feel his grip tighten, tugging your chin up higher.
"Look at me. You want this cock? I need your words. Tell me you wanna be a slut."
You're not sure when it happens, but hot tears run down your cheeks as everything comes to a head. Your body is trembling with raw desire right at your fingertips, just within reach. You can't hold back anymore, it physically hurts to.
"I wanna be a slut for this cock... please."
"Fuck, even a please. Oughta eat you out for that, sugar. Maybe next time."
Your brain is swimming at the thought. Next time?
With his free hand, Joel sets his cock free from his jeans, giving a satisfying smack to his abdomen quickly. No need for another piece of fabric keeping him from getting what he wants as you soon take note he isn't wearing boxers.
There's no denying what you're met with as you get to view it from this close. Joel Miller has a pretty cock. There's a soft, but bulging vein on the underside to match how big and thick it is. The rosy tip greets you, and it's the first time you get to see how much you've turned him on.
Your mouth is drooling while it's pried open and meets the tip of him. A moan from you is instantaneous, yet feels so distant from yourself, it doesn't affect you until much later. The taste of his precum coats your tongue as he slips past your lips and it's all you can experience. Your moans slip in and out of the sloshing sounds of your mouth. Keeping your hands by your sides, you don't tempt to touch him in fear he would pull away, so instead you twirl your tongue around his leaking head. Bob your head up and down in a slow, but sultry rhythm that causes him curse under his breath. He's not stoic above you, he's reacting.
He's clawing for every last bit of the upper hand.
"S'a lot, innit, babygirl? That's alright, you can take it." It's then you can sense Joel's guard slipping. Could be the fact that your mouth is suctioned perfectly around the length of his cock, but his voice gets damn sweeter the longer you go like this. His hips also have no problem in thrusting shallowly every now and then to knock the drool off of your dripping chin.
Even if you could form a thought, you don't know you would.
His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it out of your face as you maintain eye contact. Intuitive in your approach, he told you to look at him earlier, so maybe he likes it? The groans filling the room lead you to believe you are correct. It feels so removed from who you were moments before: snickering because his gaze felt intimidating. Now, his pupils are blown as they pour into yours and his neck hangs back when your mouth makes those pretty, sloppy popping noises – testing your gag reflexes as you will them to relax.
It's way more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone you've ever been with, and this stranger is pulling it out of you. Within the mess your brain is in, you remind yourself if you want to stop you can, and not a bit of you does.
The hot tears that were once down your cheeks swell in your eyes once more, but this time from the sheer size of him. You moan vibration after vibration against him, shifting and pushing your cunt against your calf, thigh – anything to feel some sort of friction.
He lets out a growl when he notices you, "Honey, if it's that bad, touch yourself." If your cheeks weren't red before, they are now.
It's him calling you out, slight embarrassingly, but not letting up with his hips. It's the way the embarrassment builds the fire in the pit of your belly. It's your hand pushing inside your panties at the sound of his command. And it's you practically choking on his cock from the gasp you let out through your nose – stunned at how wet you are.
Your fingertips barely brush over your clit when you notice the slick collecting, bubbling right at the very top of your slit and slutty moans fall out of you. Your eyelids droop as you try to keep your gaze up to Joel, but the way your fingertips roll over the hood of your clit in satisfying circles sends you over the edge way quicker than you anticipate.
"Shit, baby. Just like that. You filthy thing, can't hold off another minute longer, can ya? Need it right fuckin' now."
The sound of Joel's deep voice looms overhead as you come completely undone.
Unable to stop yourself, the suction on his cock pops free for a moment. Your moans hitting the air as your eyes roll back. Your body rushing to find each wave of pleasure roll off your back. Joel's cock still nestled in your mouth, but his hips still. "Goddamn, look at that little slut come out. Such a needy fuckin' kitten."
When Joel makes sure you've ridden it out, he pulls his cock from your mouth. Your body feels weak despite how eager your mind is now, face-to-face with Joel's cock, you watch as his scarred hand glides your saliva over his length entirely. It puts you in a trance, quickly getting out of it when he taps his cock against your cheek. "Pretty kitten want this? C'mon."
If your moans felt foreign to you, you don't even know what to do with yourself at the twinge of a grin that spreads on your face. The sheer audacity of his taps right against your fucking cheek. Orgasm-drunk, you shuffle to your feet and Joel has no problem in tossing you – finally – to the couch.
Your back is to him while the front of your body brackets the width of his couch, arms hunched over the back of it, knees dig into the cushions. You're grateful for the lack of eye contact in this position as it gives you a moment to press your face into your bicep, an attempt to collect yourself. But all of it obsolete when you sense Joel's presence at your ass.
His body heat unmistakable to miss. You bite at your own skin, neck craning to behind you to watch him.
"Shit, darlin', look at you. Ass up like this like y'er in fuckin' heat for me." You whine at the fact his clothes are still mostly on, and you know he must be sweating underneath them, but he won't give it to you like that. Not yet, 'maybe next time'. "You know I can't go any further 'til you get a spankin'. Need to be punished for tryin' to hurt me like that. For tryin' to take my things. Ain't right. Need you to learn your lesson."
Where are you? A part of you knows this is a tactic. That Joel is lulling you into a position you can't say no to. It already shows itself in how you're splayed on his couch. Yet, you can't find the person you were before you stepped into the cabin. Not yet, not like this. You nod weakly, and Joel swipes the cotton undies down to your thighs so quickly the rush of air cools the heat of your folds. A flutter runs through you.
"Count. To ten. If you don't, we start over. Say, yes sir."
"Y-yes... sir. Yes sir."
A searing, mind-numbing spank wallops over your ass and it causes your hips to jut forward. Whimper hitting the top of your throat, you almost, almost, forget to count. Everything in your senses distracting you from completing the simplest tasks such as fucking counting.
"O-one." Another. "Twooo." And again. "Th-three!"
You start sniffling by the third smack of his wide hand, and you hear mocking sniffs behind your head. "Aww, pretty baby can't take the hurt she tries to give to others? That must be really tough. Y'heart's bleedin' all over my couch, honey."
Your cheeks burn, you really feel sorry for what you've done. Or at least, what you were planning to do.
The next spank leaves a welt of Joel's handprint across your skin. "FOUR!" Your body begins to feel weak, sliding against the couch, you know talking back is useless as you silent tears stream into your arm.
There are six more blinding slaps to your ass by the time he's done with you, and you feel him pull back when he's through. You imagine him wringing his palms, the roughness of them. You begin to wonder if that's how they got to be so weathered, and pretend not to be weirded out by the ache of jealousy.
"Y'know for somebody whinin' the whole time, your pussy is just droolin' from that," any narrative you wandered off with disappears in its replacement of Joel's fingers gathering slick between your folds. No announcement, just go. It was just within reach, feeling him inside you. You ride the shudder your body makes, licking your lips as you realise the unspoken rule is free and you can speak. "N-need it. Need your cock, please... please." "Need it, and you don't even know my name?" His index and middle finger waste no time in pressing into your aching core. Sounds of your wailing mix with his words as he lurches over, lip close to your ear. "Or maybe you do already."
"Please, please, please," your fingertips grip for the worn fabric of his couch while your hips that try to jut back are quickly halted by his other palm, a strong stopper at the base of your spine. "Not 'til you tell me my name." "I-I don't know. I don't know it, I swear." Joel's thick fingers slip completely out of you and you mewl pathetically, pussy clenching around nothing and he can see every last detail of it behind you. "Last fuckin' time, better tell me the truth." "It's Joel," you cry, hips pushing back against the resistance as much as possible. Anything to be filled again. "Joel. Joel. Joel. I was... I was– I don't know anybody. Not with anybody, I swear! Joel, I swear. Please! Just grew up hearin' your name. I swear on my life, Joel, please! I know I lied, didn't think you'd believe me."
You don't know why you're begging like your life depends on it, but your pleasure surely does, and there's a longer pause than you want lingering behind you. As if you can palpably feel Joel contemplating whether you're being truthful or not. But if there's one thing about you, aside from this moment in this compromising position: you don't answer to anybody.
Joel's cock bottoming out inside of you at the drop of a hat is confirmation enough that he believes you.
And you not only wail, but scream at the stretch and irresistible contact that punches you straight to your gut – right where you can feel the tip of him. Half-moon prints dig into your hips by his short fingernails when he grabs ahold of you and you're on your forearms, head hanging between your shoulders. Your panties keep your thighs straying too far apart if there is such a thing.
"This what you wanted when you watched me?" Joel grips your torso now, pulling you closer to him as you become more upright, his cock more accessible to the spongy spot inside of you and your nipples stand erect, eyes rolling back as it takes all of you not to rest your head back against his shoulder, and you fail. Hard. Your occiput makes contact with his shoulder. Joel brushes your hair back to the side, lips graze but never fully touches the column of your neck. "Thought about this tight cunt last night. Left the window open on purpose, but you knew that already, didn't you, pretty girl? Clever little thing and so fuckin' dirty."
Joel's hand snakes around the front of you, spreading your folds as he dives his fingers over your glossed-over clit your wetness claimed and that sends a whine off of your depraved lips. "That's it, honey. Show me what this cock does to ya. Makes you downright brainless from how well you take it." While his skilled fingers, toy with your clit, the other set of digits graze over your breasts on their way up to your mouth. You take them inside the warmth of your wet mouth easily, rolling your tongue over the digits until you can only focus on the white hot pleasure beginning to boil over. You keep his fingers between your teeth, a faint realisation that you can taste yourself on them. That's what does it.
His hips are relentless as they pound into you, the repetitious slaps of his skin against yours, of his balls tapping your cunt again and again sends you into a place that he knows you're approaching when you tighten and pulse.
"Y'know how tight and wet you feel around me, darlin'? Never had a fuckin' cunt like this. Let it out, let it out, just like you wanna. Just like you did last night around your fingers. Nothin' like this cock though, and you know it now, don't you? Oh, fuck yeah– thaaat's it. Look at you." "Joel... Joel!!!" Joel talks you through it, sending your body diving off the cliff that is your second orgasm. The undeniable gush of your fluids around his cock. His name stays stuck at the your tongue, the constant thud of it vibrates your lungs.
It starts at the attention on your clit. The raw bundle of nerves send signals outward as it spreads down your legs, up your stomach, to your nipples and down your spine. Your brain feels effervescent, toes curl, and it comes back again right to your heart. Your beating heart, wild, and every moan, whimper, scream that comes from you sounds like it is from someone else's chest. But it's yours, and you know that when you start to feel hazy, unable to hold yourself up anymore.
"Good for my cock after all. Ain't ya, baby? Shit."
Your torso leans forward while your cheek rests on the top of your hand that's gripped on Joel's couch, and your body is relaxed and fucked. Comfortably silent, just the way Joel would want you. His cock slips out of you, unable to stop the slew of grunts and groans that acts as an anchor to keep you from slipping under. You lick your lips, looking back at him with a nod, unable to stay silent for long. That struggle of power coming back for vengeance. "That's right. Come all over this ass you ruined. See those handprints? Dirty fucking man, you just met me. Show me how much you enjoyed doing that."
That's as far as you get when you feel the heavy streams of his hot, white come rope over your skin, and for someone who is no position to be smug, you sure do have a shit-eating grin on your face. Pure, and the simplest thing the two of you accomplish.
Joel shakes his head, shallow breaths become him as he staggers back and you pretend not to notice. "Gonna kill me, kid."
"Almost did."
---
You don't know why, but neither of you hold the promise of you leaving right away. You linger, both of you half naked and spent. You take your time cleaning yourself off, slipping your clothes back on. Day becoming night.
You tiptoe into the living room where Joel is unfurled on his couch. His eyes are closed, the back of his head inches away from where the two of you just had sex.
Planning your goodbye, you sit at the edge of the couch cushion, knowing he wasn't really asleep. Just restin' his eyes.
"I am sorry...," you finally say into the dimly lit room, pangs of annoyance fizz at your tongue for even apologising. For shooting him, for trying to steal from him. All of it.
It's not his fault. It's just how you are.
This is dichotomous in relation to your eyes. They're bleary when a yawn pulls deep from within you. As if rest had been climbing up to the surface this entire time.
"Maybe you should be apologisin' 'bout your shitty aim. Could teach you a thing or two." Joel's eyes remained closed, arms crossed. If you could let yourself experience this, you would notice how soft he looks in this moment. Instead, your stomach is recoils in fight or flight.
You're glad he can't see you swallow the knot in your throat.
There was no magical solution for your life, and a part of you wishes you hadn't chosen his cabin to raid. You wish you hadn't met him, because now you could feel yourself want to notice the small things in him. Already.
You felt it dangerous to let anything that close to you.
You scoff to play it off, giving his chest a light shove and very accidentally getting lost in the light landscape of hairs that resides at the top of his flannel. "I could teach you a thing or two." A pathetic response for a pathetically spent human.
"We could both teach each other," he resigns and you're grateful he doesn't point out your lack of wit for how worn out he's made you. Perhaps the smugness settles in the things he doesn't say. Really, it's in what Joel spouts off next that throws you upside down.
"S'why you should stay. One month. That's it."
"Excuse me?"
"Didn't stuttered," your eyes roll and somehow, despite Joel's own being shut, he tuts his teeth. "Don't roll your eyes at me, little girl. You need a place to sleep. Besides, I could use an extra set of hands. Way I see it, best offer you've had in a while. Got a shelf life, though. Don't like to wait."
A part of you is suspicious, and if this man didn't make sure you orgasmed twice, you would suspect yourself to be dead within a matter of minutes.
There's something true about him, though. You're unwilling to look at it directly, but you trust him.
"Fine."
"Gonna need clearer confirmation, darlin'. Really need you to want this if you're gonna stay with me." He knew exactly where to press.
"Fuck, I shoulda killed you when I had the chance. I want to stay with you. One month." You try to ignore the grit between your teeth as speak, but your shoulders eventually soften. And you really do mean it. It's just... you're hardened from years of misplaced trust.
Your hand goes to the pendant around your neck subconsciously.
Joel either doesn't notice, or gives you the space.
You're grateful either way.
"That's that, then."
If anyone could understand the concept, it's Joel.
"That's that."
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momolady · 10 months
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Placide the Paralangua
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The festival of Ash is fast approaching. but before the excitement can build, there is lots of planning in order to prepare. Few humans are selected for the festival, but there is another handful that get to work closely with the Paralangua elders in order to plan and prepare the great event.
Female Reader x Male Monster (both cis)
===============================================
It had been a remarkably cold winter, marked by occasional snow flurries which were a rarity for your neck of the wood. You were used to a chill in the air, maybe some cold rain or ice, but this year felt different. It was as if a shift occurred somewhere in the fall and a wind of change had swept through the trees.
It did not stop your work though, and even through the holidays you worked on coordinating the Festival of Ash that would be happening in the spring. For the past few years now, you’d been hired as the main event coordinator for the yearly festival. All your life you had attended it, so it was an honor to be given this opportunity. This also allowed you a rare access to the paralangua elders in order to receive their input on the festivities.
You’re able to work from home and have set up an office in one of your spare rooms, but you’ll often have meetings with the paralangua that take place elsewhere. Usually you meet with a singular elder each time.
This year, your baby cousin, Lucie, had returned home and the two of you have been hanging out a lot. This year, she is one of the chosen for the Festival of Ash and she will be paired with one of the paralangua during the ritual.
“I’m so nervous,” she said. “I’ve heard so many different stories, I’m not quite sure which one to believe in.”
You had your back turned to her as she talked, fixing you both a cup of hot chai.
“You work with them, right?” She asked.
You smiled back at her. “I do. The elders vary, but they’ve all been very kind.” You took the steaming cups and set them on the coffee table. “It’s strange working with them after being told all our lives that they are a mysterious lot. But really, they're just like anyone else.
“But they’re giant albino lizards,” Lucie laughed.
“Gators,” you corrected. “And they’re quite beautiful to look at.”
Lucie picked up a cup. “You think so? I’m still not sure what to think. It makes me nervous picturing myself being…being with one of them.” Her cheeks blossomed into a bright pink and she kept her eyes casted away.
You chuckled. “Especially since it will be your first time. I can understand how that would make you nervous. But reportedly, they are excellent lovers.”
She fidgeted in her seat. “How big are they?”
“Well, considering most of them make me feel short, I’d say they’re very tall,” you laughed.
“No, I mean-” Lucie took a sip of her chai. “How big are they?”
You glanced at her with surprise. “Oh. Well, that’s one part of them I’m not familiar with. I usually don’t get that intimate while planning the festival.”
“I’ve looked online and I don’t know if I could possibly take anything bigger than a breadstick.” She held a shivering, terrified look in her eyes. “I sometimes wish I’d never been chosen.”
A spike of pain went through your chest.
“You get to have sex whenever you want, you can marry or date anyone you want. I’m twenty-one and still haven’t kissed a guy. All because I’m a stupid chosen.” She set her cup down forcefully.
“Careful.” You pulled her cup back. “And don’t say it’s stupid. You’ve been given a wonderful gift. And the paralangua who fights for you in the labyrinth is going to be yours for the rest of your life. They’re going to love you and adore you.”
“But it’s scary,” Lucie whispered.
You reached out and took hold of her hand. “You’re the lucky one here, Lucie. I understand you’re nervous, but trust me. Once you meet them, you’ll understand all the stories we heard as kids.”
Lucie pouted and sighed. “I hope so.”
“Besides, the dating pool these days is murky. I’m not that lucky,” you chuckled. “Have you seen the state of dating apps?”
Lucie’s smile returned. “Yeah, that’s true.”
The following afternoon you had a meeting with one of the elders. You drove to the castle on the hill and were greeted by him at the door. You were pleased to see it was Placide, your favorite elder to deal with.
Placide opened your car door for you. “Good morning. Another cold one, isn’t it?”
You gathered your things then took his offered hand to stand. “They’re calling for a snowstorm this weekend, can you believe it?”
He scoffed and rolled his dark, red eyes. “I will believe it when I see it. But the way the weather has been this winter, I would not be surprised.”
Placide made you feel petite in stature. He was so tall and broad it was intimidating. But he had a way about him that made you forget that. Unlike some of the other elders, he talked to you on your level, he got personal with you. It was easy to talk to him, which is why you enjoyed working with him. Not to mention his deep, buttery voice made your knees weak.
“I just hope the cold doesn’t linger in spring. I would hate for the labyrinth and the waters to remain cold, especially for our chosen this year.” Placide said as you walked inside and towards the dining hall.
“My cousin is one of the chosen this year, and she’s nervous enough about it as it is.” In the dining room you set your things upon the table, taking out your planner and laptop, both of which you felt were even less suited to the grand room than you.
Placide came up behind you and pulled out your chair. “Well, for her sake I hope the weather warms up.”
“Thank you.” You sit down and open your planner to the notes you had thought out last night. “She’s been asking me all sorts of questions about it. But I’m not quite sure how to answer her.” You ducked your head down and your smile remained sad. “I was never chosen as a child.”
Placide tilted his head up slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
You shook your head. “Oh, it’s nothing now.” You opened your laptop a bit too forcefully. “What about you? Did you ever battle in the labyrinth?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I did. But it was a long time ago.” A distant look came into his eyes and he avoided gazing at you.
“Any advice you’d give to my cousin? She’s nervous about, you know, her first time and all-” You stop. “Oh god, that’s horribly inappropriate, isn’t it? Ignore me! That’s weird! I’m so sorry, Mr. Placide.”
He chuckled. “Just call me Placide, honey. And no worries. I was terrified the first time my victory and I were…you know.”
Your eyes pinched. “Victory?”
Placide’s smile became soft. “That’s what we call one another. Not exactly brides or grooms, are we? But we’re victories to one another. We fought hard to reach one another within the labyrinth; each coupling, each poly group that forms is a victory.”
“That’s really romantic. I didn’t know that part.”
Placide’s eyes cast aside again. “My victory, Carine was her name, she used to say that our first night together was equal parts awkward and sweet. As long as you can laugh together at things, you can conquer most obstacles in each others’ embrace.” He lifted his head up. “She used to love coming to the festival and talking to all the young ones going into the labyrinth. It was her favorite part every year.”
“Does she not do it anymore?” You asked cautiously.
Placide sighed. “I’m sure she does, in spirit at least.”
You felt completely awful. You brought this all up, and now you were having him talk about his deceased wife! You’re a monster, you thought to yourself.
“I’m so sorry,” you tried to smooth things over.
He shook his head. “I like talking about her. I didn’t have her as long, so the more I can talk about her the better that makes me feel.” He smiled. “But we do have business to attend to. So tell me, how goes it with the vendors?”
“Uhm-” You tap at your laptop to get it to turn back on. “So far, so good. A lot of locals are still willing to donate food to be served. And uhm-” You drop your planner onto the ground and reach down to get it. “There’s a lot of crafters this year who applied so-” Your head hit the bottom of the stone table with a loud thud that echoed through the door.
“Honey, are you okay?” Placide jumped up from his chair and came towards you.
You held the back of your head with one hand, while gripping tight onto your planner with the other. “I’ll be okay.”
Placide moved your hand aside to look. His hand felt so cold against the injured part of your head, it was nice.
“Do you feel tired at all?” Placide asked.
“I’m just embarrassed.”
Placide looked into your eyes, gazing really for what felt like the longest time. “I’m just making sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“I have a notoriously thick skull.” You tried to laugh but you were more nervous than you realized. Having Placide this close was doing some damage on the girly side of your heart. “Seriously, I was on a bike once as a kid and went right through the fence. Not a scratch on my head, and I went head first.”
Placide pulled his hand back and there was a touch of blood on his fingertips.
“That’s yours?” You asked.
Placide’s brow raised. “You’re hurt. Let me take you to Adele, she’ll be able to assess things better than I. Give me your hand, honey.”
He takes hold of your hand, then wraps his arm around your waist as you stand. For a moment, you thought this could be the cover of a romance novel.
“I’m fine, really!”
“I’m not risking it,” Placide said with a stern tone. “I’d hate myself if I sent you home and you drove your car into a wall or something.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You stopped when you saw the sharp look in his eye. “I’m joking. I’m joking!”
Placide led you further into the castle than you had ever been before. You passed by some paralangua and humans, all of whom seemed curious by your being there.
Placide knocked on a door with a golden plaque upon it. The plaque swung aside and bright pink eyes started out. “Placide, what the hell do you want?”
“This is our event planner,” he said. “She hit her head upon the table and now she’s bleeding a bit.”
“From where?” Adele snipped.
“The back of her head.” Placide sounded confused.
Adele closed the plaque and opened the door. “Oh, good. If it was her eyes or nose or something, that’d be bad. Just wait out here, Placide. I’ll get her looked at.” She closed the door behind you.
Adele was another one of the elders you liked to work with. She wasn’t flowery like the others, she was direct and liked asking questions that helped you sort things out.
“So you hit your head?” Adele had you sit down then pushed up your hair to examine. “I hate that stone table. I feel like laying on it like that lion in those kids books. How are you feeling, girl?”
“Like I hit my head.”
“Oh, good. I would have been concerned had you said you felt like you hit your knee.” She pushed your hair over the top of your head and wrapped some gauze around it to keep it out of the way.
“Is everything okay?” You asked.
“I’m just going to clean up this cut back here and keep you talking. I don’t think anything is wrong, but Placide overreacts to these sorts of things.”
“I told him I had a thick skull,” you murmured.
Adele dabbed something onto the cut that burned and stung; it made you kick your legs.
“Hold still.” She blotted at the cut with a bandage. “Yup, ole Placide is going to worry over you now.”
“Why?”
Adele let out a heavy sigh. “He was never quite right after Carine died. They were both so young, and trauma does things to a person.”
Your stomach sunk with how sad that was. “Oh.”
“I think you’ll live though. But if you start feeling any sort of way, you go to a hospital.” She said, helping you to stand up. She took off the gauze holding your hair up. “And be careful of that cut back there. It’s not awful, but getting shampoo into it will be.” She opened the door and Placide stood alert then relaxed when he saw you.
“Is everything okay?” He asked.
“Should be, the girl has a pretty thick skull, so she’ll survive long enough to have regrets.” Adele shut the door behind her without another word.
Placide still looked at you with concern.
You offered him a bright smile, hoping to reassure him. “I’m fine really. Let's finish our meeting.”
“Are you sure?” He walked along beside you. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t feel like it. I would gladly reschedule.”
“I’m fine, I can get through this meeting.”
He nodded. “If you’re sure. I’m sorry if my worrying comes off as annoying.”
You shook your head. “Adele told me about Carine, I understand why you do worry.”
Placide’s gaze faded into something pitiful. “I don’t like seeing people I care about in pain,” he said simply. “But I suppose that’s anybody.”
Your heart fluttered as if it had wings. “Anybody worth their salt, anyways.” You placed your hand upon his thick arm. “Thank you.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’ve grown fond of our meetings. Being an elder, things tend to get stuffy. I enjoy your company because it makes me feel-” He hesitated. “Well, it’s a highlight of my week when I get to see you.”
He needs to stop or I am going to allow this crush to progress further than it needs, you think to yourself.
You leaned in closer to him. “Don’t tell any of the other elders, but you’re my favorite.” You gave him a wink and he laughed. “The others feel so serious all of the time.”
Placide pulled out your chair for you again. “They’re still part of the age where this is all ritual, pomp, and purpose. They don’t see the fun in it like the younger generation does.”
You smirk at him. “Do you not consider yourself part of that generation?”
His smile grew. “How young do you think I am?”
“Hard to tell,” you smiled shyly up at him. “But considering you're an elder I would say you’re older than me, but younger than the elders you work with.”
Placide chuckled. “Well, you’re partly right. Paralangua don’t age like humans, so would it surprise you if I told you I was fifty?”
You stared for a moment, slowly easing back in your chair. “You’re not.”
“I am,” he laughed. “Is that really so hard to believe?”
“What’s your skincare routine?”
Placide laughed loudly and graced you with a big grin. “Having thick scales.”
You clicked your tongue and shook your head. “Damn. And here I am bragging about my skull.”
“This is why I enjoy our meetings.” Placide’s smile softens. “You always make my day brighter like this.”
He needs to stop or you’ll catch feelings, you thought.
“You too.” You say this then immediately open up the planner in hopes of covering up the sentimentality floating all around. “Vendors!”
“Yes, vendors,” he chuckled. “Last year we had that lady who made the flower crowns. I was hoping we could get her to do some ornate ones for the chosen group this year.”
You nodded and smiled. “I had that idea too and already brought it up with her.”
“Another reason I like you so much. You already have all the good ideas.”
Your cheeks flushed and you returned to discussing business as usual. As the meeting ended, the back of your head was pretty sore, so you were planning on putting a bag of frozen peas on it when you got home.
“Let me walk you out.” Placide took your bag and carried it for you. “How are you feeling?”
You put your hand on the back of your head. “There’s a knot for sure. But I have a bag of peas in my freezer that’ll take care of me tonight.”
Placide opened the door for you. “I may be stepping out of bounds, but I could come by and bring you dinner tonight so you wouldn’t have to worry. I feel responsible.”
Your stomach flipped. “Oh, no, no,  it’s okay really! It’s not your fault I hit my head. You don’t have to.”
His smile was gentle as he looked at you. “What if I just wanted to bring you dinner?”
Your stomach flipped again. “I mean…I like food.” You hated yourself and tried to recoup. “You don’t have to really! I’ll be fine, you don’t need to go out of your way. But if you wanted to-” You trailed off, unsure where to go.
“I want to,” he said. He opened your car door for you. “What time would be best?”
“Five, I suppose.” You still were still a bit confused. “I’m the one that hit my head though. You don’t need to worry.”
“It’s not just that. I want to see you, outside of this castle and not have to talk about the festival. I want to see you and only you.”
Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, the words ran through your mind. “You can’t say things like that, Placide, and expect a girl to stay okay for the rest of the day.”
Placide chuckled and kissed your forehead. “To feel better.”
Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair!
“Drive home slowly. Just in case.” Placide handed you your bag. “And I will see you at five.”
“Thank you.” You weren’t sure what to say, and that probably wasn’t the correct answer. You sat in your car for a second, watching as Placide went back towards the door. He turned and waved at you, making your heart spike into your throat.
“Okay then…it’s a date,” you murmured in disbelief.
==================================
The first Festival of Ash you could remember attending, was the one where you were taken to see if you’d be one of the chosen. At the time, your town was small and there weren’t very many kids your age. It had been very likely at the time you were going to be chosen. The ceremony progressed as normal, but you weren’t selected.
All your friends had been chosen, and they talked about it all the time. You smiled and nodded along, congratulating them on how lucky they were. But of course, you were lucky too. You could date anyone you wanted. Sure. You could. Time went by, and by your twenty-first birthday you had placed yourself on the other side of the world, away from home, and away from the Festival of Ash that year, the year your friends would no longer be chosen, and instead be with their paralangua in the labyrinth.
It didn’t bother you, you could date whoever you wanted. It really didn’t bother you.
What did bother you was that your hair looked greasy and awful, but Adele had warned you about washing your hair while you had that injury at the back of your head.
“Oh sure, I have to injure myself like this.” You fussed with your hair, trying to style it one way and then another. But absolutely nothing looked good to you.
You tapped your forehead where Placide had kissed you. “Don’t get your hopes up. That never works out.” You put on an old, favorite beanie to cover the greasy hair as well as put extra protection around the bump growing from the back of your head.
“Just act cool. You can do that at least.” You strolled out into your living room and sat down upon the sofa. “Nonchalant. Casual. Cool,” you repeated the words to yourself. You picked up the remote to turn the TV on. But then the panic set in of having to select something to watch, so if Placide came at that moment, you could have something interesting on. Whatever you had on would be a reflection of yourself, an intimate peek into your daily life, the way your mind worked.
True crime documentary? No. Too creepy.
Something based on Jane Austen? No. Too desperate.
Maybe a video game walk through? No! Too corny.
Music? No! Your music is weird!
There was a knock on the door and you placed your remote down gently. No harm, no foul. You got up and went to the door, peeking on your video doorbell who was there. It was Placide, dressed in a very dapper wool coat and carrying a bag in each hand.
“Crap, he looks nice. And I look like an off the hours goth girl.” You calmed yourself. It didn’t matter. This was going to be a nice visit.
You opened the door and smiled. “Welcome! Glad you found the place okay.”
Placide stepped in and you offered to take one of the bags. “You have a beautiful house. I was surprised.”
You furrowed your brow. “You were?”
“I mean-” Placide cleared his throat. “I was expecting something much smaller. You said you lived alone, right?”
“This is my family’s ancient stomping grounds. I inherited it from my grandmother. The kitchen is this way.” You led him down the hall. “During the wedding season I rent it out for extra money.”
“That’s not a bad idea. It’d be a perfect place.” Placide stepped into the kitchen and looked around. He shed his heavy coat and hung it aside. “It’s so cold out. I’m glad your house is warm.”
“Surprisingly good heating system for an old house, right? Do you need helping with anything?” You asked.
“I just need to heat a few things up.” He set some wrapped dishes down on the table. “How are you feeling, by the way?”
You touched your hat and shrugged. “Hurt and embarrassed still.”
“Don’t be. Embarrassed that is. But is the pain bad?”
You shook your head. “Only if I touch it. And here, this is the stove.” You stepped aside to let him near it.
It did feel a bit awkward, but you couldn’t tell if it was all just you, or if maybe Placide was feeling it too.
“It’s odd, I’ve never talked to you outside of being an elder,” you chuckled. “I’m not sure how to quite…go about it.”
Placide’s tail twitched upon the hardwood floor and slightly perked up. “Just treat me like any other man you’d have in your home.”
“Not had that much experience there either,” you muttered under your breath.
Placide put the dishes into the stove. “Although, I am a bit shy myself. After Carine, there weren’t many women who piqued my interest.”
“I piqued you?” You wanted to hit your head again.
Placide chuckled. “I enjoy talking to you. Our last event planner used the same things every single year. But the past few years you’ve worked with us the Festival of Ash has changed and grown, it feels like it did when I was a young man again.”
“I would argue you’re still young.” You cleared your throat and glance aside. “I just know the festival is important for us. Not just the paralangua or the chosen. But everyone here knows it’s special.”
Placide’s smile is soft, but it was the way his eyes graze over you. There's confidence there, as well as a nervous vulnerability. “It’ll take a minute for the food to warm up. Maybe we should sit down.”
“Oh sure, here is fine. Or the sofa might be comfier for you.” You stepped towards the doorway, leading him back to the living room. He took a seat, curling his tail around his waist so it curled over his thigh and draped down.
You sat on the ottoman, a bit too anxious to sit on the sofa with him.
“You said your cousin was chosen. How is she looking forward to it?” Placide asked.
You shrugged. “Somedays she’s excited, other days she’s nervous. When I was growing up, most of my friends had gotten chosen too. I used to be so jealous of them.”
Placide tilted his head to the side. “Did it ever bother you?”
You swallowed. “Sometimes. I mean, I was happy for them. It was such a great honor and all. I got to see them get excited and nervous too.” You bit down on your lip. You sighed and shook your head. “There weren’t a lot of families here back then. Our group was small. So I felt left out a bit sometimes.”
“I’m sorry that happened, honey.” Placide’s smile was gentle as he looked at you.
“It’s fine really,” you tried to laugh. “I figured there was another purpose for me so-” You shrugged and brought a knee up to your chest. “I’m not worried about it anymore. What about you though? How was the labyrinth for you?”
“It was so long ago,” he chuckled. “I just remember all the build up and the adrenaline. The fighting was worse back then too, like you said, there were lesser people here long ago. So at the time I really had to fight my way through all the others my age.” He pulled up a sleeve and showed a scar on his arm that hindered the pattern of his scales.
“Back then, the ceremony didn’t really start until everyone had their stitches complete.” He offered out his arm towards you.
You touched his arm and ran your fingers up the scar, feeling how cool and smooth his scales were. “It was that brutal back then, huh?”
“Extremely.” Placide held your eyes for a moment then he sat up and pulled his sleeve back down. “There weren't enough humans to go around, and all of us wanted our own victory so badly.”
You wanted to ask more, but you felt that was prying too deep.
“I think everyone wants to feel like they’re being fought for in one way or another. I think that's why being chosen is so sought after. You want to feel like someone, anyone, wants you.”
You catch yourself in a nod then clear your throat. “It is nice.”
“I know romance is hard these days. But I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why don’t you come and sit beside me? I’m cold blooded and any extra warmth helps.”
Your cheeks warmed and you moved from the ottoman to the sofa, sitting near Placide and feeling more anxious than before. “It's a nice sofa. My grandmother bought it before she died, so it’s new-ish.”
“I see,” Placide chuckled. “It is nice.”
His hand was alone and vulnerable beside him. It was placed strangely though, almost like a piece of candy before a trap. You placed your hand upon the sofa, inching it towards his until your fingers brushed against his hand. His hand moved and then it was touching yours. You looked away as your hands touched then held one another.
“Do the paralangua allow this?” You asked out of nerves.
“It’s not exactly tradition. But it’s allowed.” He moved in close to you. “Although I do feel a bit strange. It’s been a long time and I like you.”
You leaned into his side. “I like you too.”
He chuckled. “Good. Or else this would be much more awkward than I feel.”
You laughed too and for a moment things were quiet. The two of you sat there, holding hands, and then a warmth seemed to grow between you.You shifted, facing one another again, and Placide’s mouth opened.
“Oh no, my spinach puffs!” Placide stood and held out his hand again. “The food should be ready now.”
Dinner was delicious, you ate more than you expected. But it was the conversation that came afterwards that you enjoyed most. You and Placide talked over coffee about little things. It grew from there as you talked about music, your love for punk and his surprising confession of playing guitar when he was young. From there, the night felt natural and time slipped away until you noticed the wall clock.
“I can’t believe it’s one already.”
Placide double checked it and laughed. “I had no idea! I thought it was still so early. Perhaps I should go.”
“Sorry I kept you so long. I’ll wash your dishes and bring them back later.” You rose to show him to the door, but he didn’t move. He remained sitting at the table with a stern look upon his face.
“Is everything okay?” You asked.
He sighed. “I want to kiss you, but I’m afraid of what will happen when I do.”
You licked your lips. “Nothing has to happen. It can just be a kiss.”
Placide stood and approached you. “I can promise you, it won’t be. So if we kiss, you’ll have to promise me you won’t let me get away with anything.”
It was just suggestive enough for you to enjoy it, and just a little cute. “You’re making me the responsible adult here?”
“If you can try to be.” Placide’s hand rested upon your waist. “One of us needs to think clearly.”
His hand brushed against your cheek, the smooth scales and dark claws made you shiver. “Should we pull straws for it?”
Placide bent down and there it was, the kiss. You were taken back for a second, almost watching down at yourself while it happened. But you returned to the present, pressing closer and closer to him as the kiss deepened. You held onto him as a moan rumbled in his chest.
Placide was the one to pull back and his hands both rested upon your waist, holding you tightly so you didn’t come closer or move farther away.
“See…” You cleared your throat. “You did well.”
“But I could sink deeper,” he growled against your ear. “I feel it. It’s an old desire but I know it.”
You smoothed your hand down his chest. “But-”
“Yes, but.” Placide released you. “We both mentioned it has been a long while. We shouldn’t let want override our own needs.”
“Right.We have lots of time anyways.” You handed him his coat.
“You would think so, but even from where I stand, time doesn’t matter. It only moves forward, and it can pull us under that current.” He slipped on his coat. “So that is why I’d like to know when I can see you again.”
You lost your breath for a beat. “I’m free tomorrow?”
Placide smiled. “Tomorrow then.”
For the next few weeks, you and Placide met regularly. Nothing more than kissing happened, but there were moments where it felt like something more would happen. But you stopped each time, agreeing to wait and make sure it was right.
One evening, you woke up on the sofa lying on Placide’s chest. The TV had gone back to the main menu, and it was the only light on. You laid your head back down, resting it upon his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Placide murmured.
His voice started you and made you jump. “What?”
“I felt you stir,” he whispered. “And I almost called you Carine.”
You sat up, seeing his eyes were still closed tight. “I was half awake,” he said.
“I understand. It's okay.”
Placide sat up and sniffled. “But I’m with you. I know that. I care for you deeply, more and more each day. And it was so long ago.”
“How long?” You asked. “I’ve wanted to know, but I’ve been too afraid to ask.”
Placide breathed in and let it out slowly. “I had her for ten years, and then she was gone. Then another ten years went by, and then another.” Tears filled his eyes. “Somedays it feels like yesterday.”
You held his hand tight. “I know.”
“She made me promise not to give up. That I was too good to not share.” He smiled sadly. “I feel like I’ve let her down.”
You cupped your hand around his face. “Do you really think that?”
His red eyes turned to yours. “I think it. But I know she wouldn’t.”
You kissed him then rested your head upon his shoulder. “Then stop it.”
His hands rubbed up and down your back. “I’ll try. I promise.” He lifted your head and kissed you again. Once again there was that unspoken desire between you. This kiss could go either way, all you had to do was decide.
“I want you,” Placide growled.
You panicked. “That’s nice.”
He laughed and held you tight in his arms. “If it wasn’t so cold out, I’d take you into the labyrinthe right now.”
“Why there?”
He sighed and cupped his hands around your face. “To make you feel like a victory. I know it bothers you, and I was hoping I could wait and make myself behave until spring. But the more time I spend with you, the more I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to be with you. I think like I’m young again, and I keep driving myself crazy.”
You bit your lip to contain your smile. “Have you touched yourself thinking about me?” You said with a teasing tone.
Placide grunted and averted his eyes.
“If you want to wait until spring, we can. I would like to see it for myself and have you win me over.” You kissed his neck and cheek. “If you can wait. I will too.”
Placide’s hands tightened around your hips and he fidgeted his lap. “I’m not sure I can. Right now I feel…frustrated.”
“Maybe I can just help with that.” You laid a palm in his lap.
“Wait-” His voice choked and he captured your wrist in his hand.
You kissed him, pressing up against his chest and easing him back down upon the sofa. You sat back up, tugging off your sweater and his eyes bulged. You kissed down his chest, the smooth, plate scales felt cool to your lips, but you were growing warmer and warmer with each second.
“Tell me about the labyrinthe.” You say as you straddle his lap again.
“Uhm-” He breathed in deep. “It’s beautiful. Lots of lush moss and vines. It goes deeper than most people think.”
You dip down, kissing his belly as he talks. Your fingers find a mound between his legs that’s begun to open and dribble out a viscous ooze.
“There’s places to swim, but it’s the underground lake that’s my favorite.” He whimpered and his hips bucked.
Your fingers were inside and bit by bit he revealed himself. The top was ruby red, and compared to the rest of his pale body it stood out. Even more so, the size of him was prodigious. The thick base of his cock was baby pink and when it was fully released it laid against his stomach.
“May I?” You asked, sliding yourself down to be between his legs.
“Please, keep going.” Placide gently cupped the back of your head, careful as there was still a tenderness there. You kissed along the shaft, dragging your tongue up to the tip. The slippery ooze that covered him was slightly sweet and barely unpleasant. You brought him to your lips, kissing down the side and feeling his pulse twitch.
Placide gulped and tried to breathe. “I would…I would take you to that lake in the labyrinthe and lay you there upon the moss. You would…you would know how badly I wanted you, how much of a prize you really are.”
Pausing, you tried to decide what to do. You sat up, removing the rest of your clothes and Placide placed his hands upon you. He kissed you and nipped your skin, burying his face against your soft form  until you sat upon his lap.
“Don’t move,” he growled into your ear. “I can feel you…so warm and wet.” His claws sunk into your back. “Don’t move or I’ll take you right here. Right now.”
His cock pressed against your mound. As you breathed, your body moved and rubbed against him.
“I want it,” Placide panted.
“Me too.” You looked into his eyes. “I can’t wait for spring when you’re right here. Show me the labyrinthe when it’s warm. But you’ve won me now.”
Tears were in his eyes. “I won’t waste this. I promise.” He adjusted himself, moving so that he could be inside you. You let out a long, strangled sound then buried your face upon his shoulder.
Placide turned so that his feet were off the sofa and you we leaned into him. He arched his hips, pressing deeper inside you. He held you up just a bit to pull out but he was deep within a second later.
“So warm,” he whimpered.
“So big,” you whined back.
Placide swallowed and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m trying to control myself. You’re not helping things.”
“Don’t hold back. I want it.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Go ahead, do what you want with me.”
He shook his head. “I want to but-”
You kissed him, pressing your palms down upon his shoulders so he pressed into the sofa. You rode him, taking what you wanted if only to let him know you were ready for anything he could give.
“Oh god, honey-” he growled.
“Stop waiting and just-” You saw nothing but a blur before you and you were on the floor. Placide was on top of you and lifting your legs up before he pressed deep inside you again. It was another blur again mixed with snarls and grunts into your ear. He pressed himself into you, giving you everything he had.
A bright light woke you from your dreams. And while your bedroom was dark, the sharp, white light that reflected from your window was a thick blanket of sparkling snow. You rested back into your pillow with a deep sigh. You then felt arms around you, and kisses upon your neck.
“Good morning,” Placide whispered.
Your body remembered all at once his ferocity last night and you felt a shiver crawl down your spine. “G-good morning!”
Placide chuckled. “It was nice having this warm body last night. When it snows like this all I want to do is cuddle.”
“I almost thought I dreamed last night.”
“I went a little too hard, I’ll be gentle next time, promise.” He kissed your cheek and wrapped his body around you.
“Tell me again about the labyrinthe.” You say as you stroke your hands down his body. “What will you do to me there?”
Placide growled. “What I won’t do to earn my victory. Lay back, I’ll show you.”
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red-dead-sakharine · 3 months
Text
Tickles - Part 7
Raphael x Tav, RaphaelPOV, soft!raphael, gn!tav, fluff, hurt/comfort, body worship, conflicted!cambion
Part 1 | P 2 | P 3 & 4 | P 5 | P 6 | P 7 | | P 8
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Raphael sat at his desk in the boudoir. He had sent Korrilla to to keep an eye on the adventurers again. While he had an avid interest in keeping them alive before, his investment has now skyrocketed to new heights. The mere thought of losing his little mouse has become unbearable to him.
He wrinkled his nose. The fact that he had become so... attached to this mortal bothered him somewhat. It was a weakness. It was un-devil-like. It was pathetic. That was his fiend blood talking, and he knew it. His mortal side longed for Tav's affection. Their touch. Their understanding. He's had a long and difficult life. But never in all his years, has he felt as whole as he did last night, when his little mouse held him tight and told him he was perfect. He had craved this. And he feared it. And he hated it. The thought of killing the mouse crossed his mind. It would prevent him from more mistakes. From indulging in this weakness. But he could not bear the thought.
He sighed. No matter how much his father's blood rebelled against it, he would keep his mouse safe. And once the brain was defeated and he had the crown, he would keep them close and never let go again.
He threw a glance at the clock, almost midnight. His fingers drummed impatiently on the desk - just once. But that already was something that irked him. It was unlike him to be restless. When you live for thousands of years, you perceive time differently. But today he was eager to act, but he had to wait for the right moment and it made him antsy. A feeling he rarely experienced.
Finally, a knock on the door frame announced Korrilla. Raphael's insides were doing handsprings, but he kept his composure and projected a picture of calm superiority on the outside. Though as the dwarf approached, his nose wrinkled again, "What is that smell?"
"Your favorite misadventurers have been trudging threw the sewers all day." Korrilla grumbled slightly.
"Ah." That explained things. "I take it, they are back at the tavern now?"
The dwarf nodded, "Yes. When I left them, they were fighting over the rights to the bathtub."
The devil's nose flared in disgruntlement. This would mean he'd have to wait even longer for them to all get to sleep. He tried not to let his frustration show, "Did anything of note happen today?" "They seem to have found the entrance to the temple of Bhaal but couldn't get through the door." Korrilla reported. Raphael hummed in acknowledgement, "They'll figure it out, I'm sure. Good work." he waved the warlock off, and she nodded and left. No doubt to go burn her clothes. That sewer stench would never get out.
The devil's fingers drummed on the desk once more. How could a day feel so impossibly long?
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He waited several more hours - the finger drumming on the desk slowly increased in frequency as the night dragged out. In the early morning hours, Raphael finally stood up. Surely, the tadpoled mortals have had enough time now to get clean and fall asleep.
Still, to not end up in another embarrassing disaster, he decided to appear outside their room. And so he did. With a flash of fire and ash, he appeared right in front of the door to their room in the elfsong tavern. The place was quiet for the most part. He could hear some drunkards from below, but at this time of night most of the merry folks had already passed out. He cautiously put his ear to the door. Nothing. Good. Slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He scanned the room for the vampire spawn, but he wasn't there. Probably out feeding. Next he looked for the animals. He didn't see them at first, but a few steps further into the room, he spotted them: Curled up at the foot of the tiefling's bed. A quiet spell later he could be sure they wouldn't wake, and disrupt him.
Now for the reason he was here...
[mood music]
He turned to where he had been during his first visit, and there they were. His little mouse. He quietly moved over to them - and frowned. There was a bruise on Tav's face, that hadn't been there last time he saw them. Who dared to hurt you, mouse!? He was angry at whoever caused the damage, but he was also quite confident that the culprit was already dead. His favorite mortal probably cut their way through several Bhaal cultists today. The thought made him smile. He made a mental note to try and watch from the shadows sometime. He found the image of his mouse covered in the blood of their enemies incredibly arousing.
He took a deep breath and shook the thought off, though. This was not why he was here. He knelt down in front of Tav's bed and looked them over. They were lying belly-down, the uninjured side of their face squished against the pillow. It looked a bit funny, but also incredibly endearing to the fiend. He smiled at the picture and just drank it in for a while.
When he had memorized every detail of the sight, he began to act. He gently pulled the blanket down to their waist and snaked his fingers below the nightshirt. He leaned in, hoping the mortal would smell his perfume, and he whispered every so quietly into their ear, "O apple of my eye..." He meant to wake them as gently as he could, to avoid repeating that calamity from last time. His fingers gently stroked Tav's back. He enjoyed the feeling of their skin. Soft. Vulnerable. A few battle scars here and there, that told tales of victory and prowess. "Little mouse... I'm in your house." he whispered and smirked at his own rhyme. His fingers ran across their shoulders, one by one, tracing the shoulder blades. "You're so fast asleep, little mouse, you don't even wake at this..." He whispered against their ear, and his fingers traced back down their spine. Perhaps they are too exhausted. It didn't matter. He kept caressing their back, their sides. And he looked at their face. That beautiful - squished - face, looking so peaceful and without worry. Looking so kissable. He leaned in, "Little mouse, you're such a sight." His words were barely audible, and he followed them with a gentle kiss to Tav's cheek.
That finally caused them to stir. They inhaled deeply, and without even opening their eyes, a smile formed on their lips, "Raphael?" they mumbled into their pillow. He smirked to himself. They knew his smell. "Yes, little mouse. I was in the area and thought, I'll stop by..." he lied in a whisper, and stroked their back gently. Their smile widened, "Glad you did." they mumbled sleepily. He brought his face close to theirs and placed another kiss on their temple, "Just relax, sweetling." And they sighed happily. His hand moved up to run through Tav's hair. Another sigh. He could not help himself but to place another kiss on their cheekbone, and their smile grew even wider. They liked what he did. He felt proud and happy. He caused them to feel good, and it was his accomplishment.
His hand trailed down their back. Now that Tav was at least somewhat awake, he became more daring. He placed his hand at their waistband and waited - an unspoken request, like the ones before. He looked back into Tav's face, and their eyes were open now. Looking at him in the darkness, still smiling. He had his answer. His hand slid down into their pants, gently stroking over their butt cheeks, one by one. The mortal's eyes closed again. Enjoying the attention.
His heart swelled with pride. Never would he have thought that he'd feel so good, just from causing some mortal pleasant feelings. But he did. He felt elated to be the cause of their happiness. And after all, this wasn't just some mortal. This was his little mouse.
For a short moment, the feral fiend inside him wanted to tear off their clothes and ravage them on the spot. But he calmed the monster and pushed it away. This was not why he was here. His fingertips ghosted over the mouse's rear, and he heard them sigh. It made him feel so good. This was better than a short moment of sexual relief. This was... soft.
He began to like soft.
He looked back into Tav's face and they were still smiling. Likely drifting somewhere between waking and sleeping. He would be gone by the time they woke up in the morning. Perhaps they will think this was all a dream. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea, or if he wanted them to remember his visit. He pondered over it, while he continued to caress their butt cheeks, then their back again. Trailing down their right arm - the only one he could reach. His kissed their hand. Another sigh. He trailed kisses up their arm. That happy smile never left their face. Their beautiful face. He leaned in again to place a kiss on their bruised jaw. They hummed. Another on their cheek. The smile grew larger again. Another on their temple. On their nose. And after a moment's hesitation, on their lips. They kissed back lightly. Obviously more asleep than awake, but still reacting to his touch. He was filled with love. He kept going, gently stroking and kissing them, until the sun poked their first rays of light into the room.
He finally stood up to leave. But he hesitated. He wanted them to know, he decided. He wanted them to know, it wasn't just a dream. He used his powers to nick a single rose from a bouquet he had in the devil's den. It appeared between his fingers, and he left it on Tav's bedside table.
Then he bent down to place a parting kiss on Tav's cheek, and pulled their covers back up to their shoulders. He drank in the picture for a few more moments before he vanished. Leaving behind the smell of his perfume, ash and sulfur.
His heart sang with delight,
he had enjoyed this night.
👉 Part 8
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444rockstargf · 3 months
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hi girly :33 I was wantin to request some euro x reader, where readers dating HELLHAMMER and is cheating on her, and euro knows (also likes you) so he gives you what he knows u deserve (smut please?) he’s super sweet to you too n shit, thank u!!
yes ma'am! this is so so delicious I cant 😫 
"you're fucking up big time." | euronymous
a&w. - lana del rey
✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp @auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart
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female!reader x jan axel (hellhammer) x euronymous *not threesome*
word count: 2.0k
contents: cheating, public sex, unprotected sex, missionary
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“best friends forever” meant a lot of things. sharing beers at the bar after a good show, laughing at stupid jokes to cover up how much life was getting to you, or shutting up when he sees your boyfriend sneaking off in the middle of the night with the girl he told you not to worry about.
euronymous had been keeping a watchful eye on your relationship like a hawk since day one. though he’d never say it to your face, he hated how easy to get you were. how you’d fallen for hellhammer after his half-assed confession to you. the way you put your best leg forward in the relationship while he gave you absolutely nothing. but most of all, he hated how badly he wished to take the place of your boyfriend. but it was far too late. so now, all euronymous could do was watch the shitshow happen from afar, waiting for a chance to finally be with you.
you had never liked euronymous. whether it was because of the fear he instilled in your heart or his icy gaze that could kill any attraction you had for anyone else, you didnt know. so you kept a good distance between you and him. but no matter what you were doing with hellhammer, he always managed to make an appearance. mindlessly walking into the room while hellhammer fucked your brains out, or catching a brief glimpse of his toned build as he walked around shirtless in the den. he was relentless. 
right now, you were sitting on the raggedy couch backstage, flicking cigarette ashes off as you listened to their rehearsal. that was one of the perks of dating a band member: you always got to hang out backstage. but you couldn’t admit that it didn’t mean anything if your boyfriend never even looked your way. you watched him from afar. he was checking himself out in the mirror, spraying on expensive cologne that he’d never bothered to wear when he was with you.
the thought itched at the back of your mind that he was hiding someone from you, but you didn’t allow yourself to think that way. stuck in a web of your thoughts, your head snaps up, unintentionally meeting euronymous’ gaze. you can’t read his expression, but there are traces of desire, pity, and longing in his eyes, you feel your cheeks heating up as you locked eyes for a moment. you shot him a cold glare, causing him to sheepishly look back at the sheet music in front of him. if you didn’t know better, you’d think he actually knew what was going through your head.
he watched the way you were slumped on the couch as he mindlessly strummed the heavy chords on his guitar. the more miserable you were, the more he felt the need to reach out to you. he had been staring at you for longer than he intented to, and when you looked at him he’d even tried to muster a little smile. your reaction shut him down immediately, reminding him that the romance between you two would only remain inside his mind.
showtime managed to arrive faster than you anticipated. the bandmates began to make their way onto the stage, but hellhammer approached you with a cocky smirk spread across his face. “hold this for me, wouldya?” he tossed his leather jacket at you, it nearly scratching you. he walked off, holding a drumstick in each hand as you drowned in his unfamiliar scent.
euronymous was still standing a couple feet away, but his eyes were on you, slightly wide. you were about to scold him for keeping his eyes on you for too long, but your gaze followed his, finally landing on what he was seeing. right on the jacket’s collar laid a bright red lipstick stain in the exact colour that you never wore because he had said it looked hideous on you. then a latex condom wrapper slipped out of the pocket, landing right at your feet. judging your nonexistent sex life with hellhammer, there has never been a situation when you’ve needed one of those.
everything fell into place horrifically fast and before you knew it, you were on your knees, bawling as heavy sobs shook your body. you’d be lying if you said you’d never suspected it, but the reality of the situation was enough to throw your entire world off balance. you buried your face in your hands, wanting nothing more but to disappear. a gentle, calloused hand touched your shoulder, making you shiver. 
you looked up, black mascara running down your cheeks as you met euronymous’ gaze once more. his expression was blank, but his eyes told you that he’d seen this coming from a mile away. you coughed into your arm, your voice coming out as a croak. “y-you knew about this..?” his arm was now draped across your back, rubbing slow circles onto your soft skin. he sighed deeply. “i should’ve told you, i know. he never loved you. he’s been cheating the entire time.” his voice was extremely soft, but it felt like he’d just hit you with a brick.
you hid your face again, being hit by another wave of sobs. he cautiously pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his chest. “i’m sorry…” his tenderness brought you a familiar sense of comfort. the same kind you felt after hellhammer had told you he loved you. hot tears streamed down your face. “why do you even care?! i swear, all of you guys are the same. heartless and cold and bitter.” you pushed yourself away from you, standing up and sitting down on the couch, wiping your tears and smearing the black mess on your face in the process.
he joined you on the couch, approaching you as if you were a bomb about to explode. the tears had dried from your face, but you felt as fragile as ever. you could hear music starting to play on stage, signalling the start of the concert. and instead of him being up there, he was here with you, trying to mend your shattered heart. 
a few minutes of silence had passed. you stared blankly ahead, trying to figure out how your life had gotten to this point. you looked a complete mess. your hair was scruffy, your makeup was ruined, nd your clothes were being held together by a string, leaving you completely vulnerable. euronymous sighed deeply before speaking. “jan is my best friend, but he doesn’t know when he has a good woman right in front of him.” 
you looked into his eyes deeply for the first time, seeing how he looked at you as if you were as precious as a diamond but as delicate as a snowflake. you look down. “h-how do you know im a good woman..?”euronymous didn’t even have to think about the answer to this question. he saw how loyal you were, how much time and energy you dedicated into your relationship, and your heart of gold underneath everything that you had been through. in his eyes, you were truly perfection. 
his answer was silent, but you knew exactly what he was thinking. it was only now that you realized you were squeezing his hand, digging your nails into his pale flesh. “o-oh..! i’m sor-” you tried to pull your hand away, but were cut off when he brought his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. you gasped softly into the kiss, feeling a shiver travel down your spine as his lips locked into yours so effortlessly.
your hands found his long black strands of hair, your fingers tangling themselves into it as he tongue began to explore your mouth. you began to melt as his hands wandered underneath your shirts, instantly getting access to your breasts. your nipples were brushed to stiff peaks as he massaged them with his thumbs. 
you laid back on the couch, not letting your lips disconnect for even a second. your legs were wrapped around his waist as he reached a hand down to hastily remove his belt, tossing it to the side. he kicked off his dark jeans and boxers, moving on to strip you of your clothing. you two didnt stop until you were both nude, your swollen lips finally leaving his. you panted, desperately trying to catch your breath as you started at his body.
it was good-looking from a distance, but it was a masterpiece when you were this close to it. his biceps flexed slightly as he propped himself above you, grinding his hard cock against your dripping cunt. you adjusted yourself slightly so that his tip with lined up with your entrance. before sliding in, he brought his lips to your ear, brushing the lobe slightly. “i finally get to treat you the way you deserve to be, baby…”
he pushed himself into you, groaning at the tightness of your walls. your eyes slammed shut as you scream, wrapping your arms and legs around him as you held onto him for dear life. he started fucking you slowly, making sure to watch your facial expressions to make sure that he wasn’t hurting you. as soon as your pain turned into pleasure, he could finally get started.
he pounded into you at a vigorous pace, causing the ground and everything around you to shake. when it came to his cock, big was an understatement. it was nine and a half inches of heaven that was sliding in and out of you. “y-you feel so good, darling…” he whispered sweet little things into your ear that made you melt underneath him.
he made no effort to try and hide his noises. “jan never fucked you like this, huh..? h-he never wanted you as bad as i did…” he admitted to admiring you from a far the whole duration of your relationship. everything he told you only increased your desire to cum all over his cock and claim him as your own.
you started to cry out as his balls slapped against your asshole, his long and firm fingers rubbing euphoric patterns onto your puffy clit. “f-fuck, euro..! r-right there…” you had never called him by his nickname before, and it turned him on so much to finally have you warm up to him. he sped up his pace until he was panting like a starved dog, desperate to bring you all the pleasure that you’d been deprived. 
“a-ah! i-i’m gonna cum-” you screamed as you began to gush all over his length, saturating the couch underneath you with your sweet liquids. your cunt tightened around him, filling him with ecstasy. with a few more lazy thrusts, he pulled out, pumping his cum all over your thighs and stomach, painting you like a perfect picture. your chest heaved up and down as you reeled over your orgasm. you could still feel cum dripping from your tight hole.
time turned elastic as you laid there naked with him on top of you, hearts beating in synch. then, the music outside stopped, followed by a loud round of applause. you and euronymous jumped up, hastily putting your clothes back on before heading to the door. he grabbed your shoulders, stopping you. “wait. there’s one last thing that i think we should do first…” you raised an eyebrow, but you quickly caught his drift. 
the band members came back in, hyped up about a good concert. but neither you or euronymous were in there. all that remained was hellhammer’s leather jacket, slashed in half and lying on top of the sticky mess that you had made with his best friend.
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author's note: this request was too much fun to write. i fear I'm becoming obsessed with euro again 🤭
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themultifandomgal · 6 months
Text
Hank Voight- Another One?
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The sound of Hanks car coming up the drive way makes me jump to my feet. I pick up the 10 week old German Shepard and make my way to the bathroom
"Ok shhh we have to be quiet" I tell the puppy and place her down and shut the door as I hear the front door open then close. I walk over to greet my husband who is in command of the intelligence unit. Our other 4 dogs have already beat me to it "hey love good day?"
"Fine"
"Are you hungry? I can make us your favourite"
"What did you do?" Hank squints looking at me
"Nothing" I quickly shake my head. A small yap is heard from the bathroom
"What was that?"
"That was just Vinnie"
"Vinnie is here" Hank points to our oldest dog "and so is Ash, Bella and Max"
"Then it was my tummy?" there's another yap and so Hank walks passed me and towards the bathroom. Opening the door the little puppy comes running out and jumping up at Hank
"Another one? Seriously YN another puppy?"
"But he was abandoned and I couldn't say no" I pout
"I swear your job is a pain in the backside" Hank shakes his head. I pick up the puppy who's tail is wagging and she starts licking my face "5 dogs then?"
"Does that mean we can keep her?" I ask excitedly
"I guess we can keep her" I put the puppy down and wrap my arms around my husband
"Thank you thank you thank you" I kiss all over his face.
Later that evening we lay in bed together surrounded by all of our dogs. The new puppy is snuggled up with Max
"We need a name for her" I tell Hank
"What were you thinking?"
"I like Luna and Nova"
"I like Nova"
"Nova it is. I'm sorry I keep bringing dogs home but while your out saving people I'm saving animals. Your lucky I've just kept to dogs. Nearly bought home a rabbit and cat yesterday from a hoarders house" I chuckle which causes Hank to laugh along with me
"I know it's hard and you love the animals, but no more dogs. We've got 5 now and I don't think we could cope with anymore. Especially if we want a baby"
"I know, but their just so cute"
"I know I know" Vinnie jumps on the bed and wiggles his way in between Hank and I. I yawn feeling sleepy after my long day "good night YN"
"Night Hank".
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pascallatte · 1 year
Text
Mando's Lover?
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader
Summary: The Mandalorian interview but why are you included? (read to find out 😉)
Date: August 2019
Taglist: @benonlinear, @t-stark35, @heyitsme-2, @elleeeee21, @holmesstrange, @tagakalat, @flyestvenustrap, @oldermenaremyreligion, @cherryred444, @avengersheart, @guacala, @pukka-latte, @hobiismyhopeu, @lilvampirina, @ilovehotdadsandshit
A/N: AAAAA we're almost entering my favourite part of the series, but, I might post some throwbacks before we head to that though so stay tuned and like always, enjoy!! also kind of a late post but you know. hehe
Series Masterlist
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The pair are seen on the red carpet during this year’s D23 Expo on The Mandalorian, which was to be released three months from now.
“Ok I'm gonna recreate your reaction to-being-casted celebration,” the interviewer, Ash, said as she shook hands with Pedro. She recreated his celebratory reaction making Pedro watch as she continued.
“That’s right. It was- it was a three-act event react play. Yeah, it was like “Oh thank you thank you”.. pass out,” He said also reenacting with an exaggerated crying look on his face, clearly having fun at what was happening.
She brings the mic closer to her to ask him her second question, “But can you walk me through actually finding out you were cast as The Mandalorian.” Pedro who was once looking at her intently, turned to look downwards remembering how that day went. 
“Well I got a call and the actual words were “Jon Favreau wants to talk to you about something Star Wars” and so I said absolutely and I went out to meet him at his offices in Playa Vista and he invited me into a room where he introduced me to Dave Filoni and in this room, it was wall-to-wall, immaculate illustrations of this series which is everything Star Wars-”
He continues to share his precious moments before the final revelation, “-And so being a Star Wars fan myself I was like, “oh what’s this” and “oh I remember that” and “what are you gonna do here” and “what do you want me to do?”” Pedro rambles on about asking them what creature, robot, or whatever role they wanted him to audition for before taking a deep breath.
“-and they looked confused and basically pointed to the- this incredible like silhouette of The Mandalorian. He said you’re the, you’re The Mandalorian. So yeah that’s why I- that’s why I sort of died inside of joy.”
Nodding at his response Ash looks at him,” Who was the first person you ever told when you got the job? Since the role became like a very important one for you.”
Scratching the back of his neck, “Well, y/n was picking me up from Jon’s place, so naturally, I told her fir-actually, I freaked out on her. I kept blabbering on things I can’t even remember you know, it must be the adrenaline I felt at that moment. And then- just then did I call my sister, who is a big Star Wars fan, saying how I’m a part of the huge franchise that she loves and now we’ve done and are about to release the first season, it makes me really happy.” Ending his response with a content smile.
“How could you not? I mean, you mentioned you were a Star Wars fan, so what’s your earliest Star Wars memory? Do you remember like-“ Ash inquired once again, wanting to know more about him and his experience as an interviewer.
Pedro enthusiastically blurted out,” I saw Star Wars- I saw episode four in the movie theatre. I was very young so I don’t remember the experience of being in the theatre for it as well as I do the empire strikes back which is burned into my childhood imagination and  I remember like three attempts to get tickets for return of the Jedi and getting my heart broken every time because it was sold out, and then finally getting the tickets and literally you know like staring at the poster being like I’m finally seeing this movie so it was highly present in my childhood. All the toys you know and all the stories yeah.”
“And now you’re in it,” Ash said, seemingly into his history with Star Wars.
Agreeing with her, “And now I’m in it. it’s weird, leading the series”
“Now, back to being an avid Star Wars watcher. What was your reaction when you were first introduced to your now-girlfriend, Y/n L/n, who played the character Sabe in the phantom menace?"
Pedro looks at her with a look that he knows what she was up to and decides to keep it short, "Yeah well like I knew it was her when we first met but I didn’t like barging into her space telling her that I’ve watched her in Star Wars and loved it because that would be weird coming from this guy you’ve never met before. But now, I can say that we’re now also together in another galaxy."
"Did you ever think you would ever meet her in person or like be with her all those years ago?"
Crossing his arms, thinking for a moment, "I didn’t really well- but to start it off I didn’t even think I would be able to meet her in any way, since she was like in the spotlight already at such a young age so I didn’t really think about it. That was until we got introduced that is and it was one of the best moments in my life," finishing it off with a shy smile.
“That’s sweet, do you think we’ll ever see Y/n as part of your series, The Mandalorian?”
“Good question but we haven’t thought about it really. But with the number of times she’s been on set they should’ve made a character just for her don’t you think?” Pedro said laughing. “Last question, what role from The Mandalorian would you think y/n would fit in if she were to be cast?” she quickly stated as their time's almost up.
Pedro gave her a teasing knowing look, “Ummm Mando’s lover, no I'm joking. But maybe someone in the ranks, probably not a Mandalorian cause she'll look-" he makes a tiny sign from his hands, laughing at himself, "-wearing the armour. Maybe a Jedi, we don’t know really, she can play herself actually. She’ll take whatever they give her.”
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onlyfezco · 2 years
Text
Baby, Baby, Baby - Fezco
Summary: Fezco’s gotten used to your pet names but others not so much
Fezco x Reader
Fluff
Word Count: 1,191
Author’s Note: Hey! It’s been a minute. Writer’s block is a bitch. Short and sweet. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! 😊
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Fezco wasn’t used to terms of endearment. Most people didn’t even take the time to learn his name if he was being honest. He was just “that drug dealer.” All that changed when he started dating you. 
“Babe!”
“Yeah, ma,” Fez replied watching you come from behind the refrigerator doors where his brother was.
“Tell Ashtray, Spider-Man: No Way Home was good!”
Fez just shook his head. You were always debating over some nerdy shit with Ash. He didn’t mind it much. It was always funny to him, and he was glad you got along with his brother.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t good, just that it was fanservice,” Ash said, poking his head from around door then leaning against the doorframe. 
“And? It was good fanservice!”
“The plot was bullshit.”
“To YOU,” you yelled. Then you turned to Fez who was leaning against the counter next to the till and said, “Baby, tell him.”
When you called him baby like that he would do anything you asked. “It was good,” Fez said while he looked into your eyes, his baby blues glistening. 
“You just sayin’ that cause she asked you too,” Ashtray said. He shook his head at how whipped his brother was.
“So,” you taunted, then blew your tongue out at the young boy.
Even before the two of you were official, you called Fez hun. But you did that with most people, so he didn’t think much of it then, even though the first time it happened his cheeks got hot. Once you had the title of girlfriend, the nicknames turned to babe and baby. He usually stuck with ma, baby, or every once and a while babygirl, but you liked to get creative with your names.
“Honey bun,” you called from the couch in the living room. 
“Yeah, ma,” Fez answered from the kitchen.
“Can you bring me some cookies, please,” you practically whined. You were more than comfortable on the couch and had no intentions of getting up.
“Yeah.” Fez closed the fridge door then looked up and saw Ash eyeing him.
“What,” Fez asked, moving to grab the cookies he only bought because he knew you liked them. 
“Nothin’... honey bun,” Ash replied chuckling to himself. 
“Man, shut up.”
Ashtray would occasionally tease him about your pet names. It was never in front of you though. Ash would just eye his brother and stifle a laugh. It seemed like they kept getting gushier and gushier the longer you two dated. 
“Pookie,” you said in a song sing voice. 
“Pookie,” Rue repeated dumbfounded. Jules placed her hand over her mouth to muffle her own laughter. 
Fezco rolled his eyes then made his way around the two girls to get to you. “Ma, I love your lil’ names for me, but maybe take it easy around other people. Especially when I’m workin’.”
“Oh,” you replied, your eyes now looking down at your feet, a crestfallen expression on your face. “My bad. I’m not trying to ruin your rep or anything. Ash just needed some more molly.”
“I didn’t mean it like-,” Fez started to say but you cut him off.
“Don’t worry about it, Fez, I get it,” you said smiling, but Fez knew it wasn’t a genuine one. “Do you still have some molly or not?”
“Yeah, here,” Fez said reaching into his pocket pulling out two little baggies and handing them to you. 
“Thanks.” 
You really did understand, but for some reason it hurt a little. It’s not like Fez was telling you not to tell people you were together. By this point, all of East Highland knew you were his girlfriend. But being told to reel in your pet names in public rubbed you the wrong way a little. 
Fez was about to follow you but another customer approached him and he had to get Mouse his money this month or else. 
When the party was finally winding down and the boys were done dealing for the night, Fez went to find you. 
“Hey, time to go,” Fez said, brushing your arm with his hand.
“Okay, Fez,” you replied.
“Babygirl,” Fez said softly, his eyes on yours. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything about your nicknames.”
“No, I get it-”
“Do you,” Fez said, he lowered his head so he was more on eyelevel with you. “Cause you’ve called me Fez twice now.”
You sighed. “Don’t act like I never say your name.”
“You do,” Fez said nodding. “But never twice in a row. There’s normally a baby or honey in between you usin’ my actual name.”
You began fidgeting in your spot. “Well, we’re still out in public. Can’t have people thinking you’re all soft and stuff because I call you pooh bear.”
Fezco rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. He never wanted to make you feel bad, especially for how much you loved him. Because that’s all your nicknames were, little declarations of love.
“But I like when you call me pooh bear,” Fez said making you smile up at him. “I just don’t like Rue or Jewel to hear and make fun of me for it later.”
“It’s Jules, babe,” you said giggling. 
“That’s what I said, Jewel,” Fez replied once again not thinking he said the girl’s name wrong. “Don’t really care if Ash say somethin’. That’s what brothers do. Just don’t wanna be the butt of the joke.”
You reached out and grabbed your boyfriend’s hand understanding where he was coming from now. “I get it. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just think the names are cute and you’re cute, so I want to call you stuff like pookie or my little cinnamon toast crunch,” you said laughing which made Fez smile.   
“You never make me uncomfortable,” Fez said then paused for a moment before he spoke again. “So we good,” Fez asked staring into your eyes watching for any sign that you were still upset with him.
Your lips curved up slowly then you nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”
“Good,” Fez replied then pulled you closer to him.
“I’ll just stick to calling you pooh bear when we’re alone,” you said in a low voice. 
Fez eye’s darted to your lips then back to your eyes. “Looks like we’re pretty alone now.”
You glanced around the room and there were only three people making small talk and one person knocked out on the couch. The last remainder of the party goers in the backyard. 
You wrapped your arms around Fez’s neck, reaching up to his lips. “Looks like we are, pooh bear.” 
Fez smiled before you lips connected in a sweet and passionate kiss. His hands squeezing your hips as your lips pressed firmly into his. You probably would have kept going if not for the interruption. 
“Really? You two dumbasses making me wait so you can swap spit,” Ashtray said from across the room. “Get your horny asses in the car so we can go,” he shouted before shaking his head and leaving.
Fez just sighed at his little brother while you giggled. He definitely appreciated your nicknames over his brothers.
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