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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 7 months

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what he deserves, chapter 1

Sanji x Reader, a bit of Law x Reader

Warnings: angst, one-night stand, not really a love triangle – law and reader are mature about the situation. Some implied smut.!!!! WANO SPOILERS!!!!!

a/n: this will be several parts. Leave comment for tags.

Summary: Witnessing all the suffering Sanji went through on Whole Cake Island, all you want is for him to be truly happy…even if it means not with you. Set after the fight in Wano, you go through the motions of an endless fight and end up in bed with the Hearts Pirates’ Captain to distract yourself from the one thing you want the most – Sanji.

masterlist

The events that happened on Whole Cake Island were imbedded into your bones; and while everyone mostly came out unscathed physically – the scars were still there. Even now that things were finally settled in Wano – people free of Kaido, the down time brought back the pain. Moreso with everything that happened while liberating Oden’s people, emotional things had piled up. So, as the crew relaxed for the first time in what seems like a very long time, you feel uneasy. It had been day three of celebrating and taking a long-awaited breath, your family, your crew were sitting around a fire drinking. Luffy was having the time of his life and he deserved nothing less; his bright smile was felt among the group as everyone recounted their version of things. Each person’s experience was different but oh, how grateful everyone was to be back together.

“You’re quiet.”

Robin nudged you gently and you gave her a small smile. You couldn’t bring anything to the surface, words were tangled on the tip of your tongue until a warm blanket fell over your shoulders; looking up to see Sanji standing over you. He asked if you wanted another helping of miso soup, but you said no, turning back to Robin. You could sense his hesitation, but then he walked away. Guilt riddled your body and Robin took notice, asking if you’d like to go for a walk. Music was playing from afar, crowds of people were walking around, conversing, getting drunk off joy as you stood up from your seat. Chopper asked where you were going, but you gave him a smile and said for a walk – giving him the blanket to keep warm. Robin and you walked away from the celebration toward the empty streets of the Flower Capital. Passing the Heart Pirates captain, Zoro, and Sanji – the latter giving you a quick glance before going back to pouring drinks for the three of them. You walked quietly next to Robin until the music dulled and you could speak freely without anyone listening. The sound of celebration filled your heart but now things were stable…feelings were reappearing like ghosts in a mad man’s mind.

The two of you stopped in front of a clothing shop and you glanced at your reflection; the dark green kimono looked lovely on you. Robin appeared at your side and smiled softly. “So, is it Sanji?”

When is it not, is what you want to say but you just touch your face and stare at the woman looking back at you. “It’s everything I supposed, but yeah, it’s Sanji.”

Robin was the only person who you confined in about the cook, the prince, your friend. She was a good listener and most times, great at giving advice but after getting Sanji back there had been no room for secrets and talks. You had been so hurt when Nami had recounted the way Sanji had fought with Luffy and her anger made you angry. Then you were terrified of losing him for good – Big Mom, Pudding, his family. They all wanted him, but they never deserved him.

And he was willing to go along with it and that had made you furious because he had done it for all of you.

“I-I can’t get passed it, Robin.” Tears formed in your eyes, facing her with an anguished expression. She sighed and touched your shoulder, telling you it was all going to be okay. That everyone was back together, and things would go back to the way it was, but you refused to believe it. “I just keep thinking what ifs – what if we didn’t get to him? What if he had gone through with the marriage?”

The words felt wrong coming out of your mouth because your faith in Luffy was of the highest peak, but you were just human, who was in love with a man who was too afraid to see what he deserved. “Luffy would have never let that happen. You all were never leaving without Sanji.”

Robin’s words were true, but it didn’t change the fact that Sanji and you hadn’t said much to each other since arriving at Wano with Luffy, Nami and the others from Whole Cake Island. You had wished then that you had gone ahead with Zoro and the other half the group to Wano instead of staying to rescue Sanji. Maybe then you would have been saved the pain of witnessing Sanji in such a devasting state. You remembered the way his voice stuttered when Luffy and him were speaking through the mirror dimension, asking if you were with the rescue group.

“Is she there with you guys? Is she okay.”

Nami glanced at you and when you shook your head no, she understood. “She’s not here right now, but she’s fine.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointment but you walked away, unbale to listen to Nami chastised the man for hurting Luffy, for hurting her. You knew how devastated she was when Sanji left the crew, but her devastation was different from yours. Your heart broke that day, and it still hadn’t been mended.

“You should talk to him.”

“Maybe. We should get back to the celebration, I mean – we helped free Wano.”

Robin studied your face for a moment but when you smiled, she knew it was genuine and she chuckled when your arm looped around hers. The two of you walked back to the party but you stopped next to Law and Zoro, Sanji nowhere in sight. Giving Robin a knowing look, you asked the two men if they were inclined to share a drink or two. Law blushed and you laughed, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Zoro handed over the bottle at his side and you didn’t wait for a glass. The three watched as you chugged down half of the bottle and Zoro grinned with pride when you exhaled, wiping a hand over your mouth. Holding the bottle to Robin, who declined, you handed it to Law.

“I have something to confess, fellas.” The men looked at you curiously as you twirled in your kimono. “I cannot wait to put on a pair of pants.”

Your movement brought out the smallest of laughs from the doctor of the group and your eyes gave a quick scan around for Sanji – who was found flirting with a gorgeous brunette in a fancier kimono than yours and confliction rose from your toes. He deserved happiness and real affection…even if it wasn’t from you. This single moment turned something off in you and your eyes glazed, locked onto Law. He caught your stare and looked away nervously, but he offered up the bottle, and you knew he would be yours. Even if just for the night. Just for relief. And he was.

The two of you drank well into the night, and sometime between exchanging battle stories and a proper introduction to his crew – you two ended up alone near a small fire. Your hands moved up against the flames and he removed his brown jittoku, placing it around your shoulders. Thanking him, you asked when he and his crew were leaving. Law sighed deeply. “In a few days, we need to regroup. We’re going to need some supplies. Maybe stick around to make sure everything is settled, but I guess your captain took care of that.”

“It was a group effort,” you offered a smile and Law…smiled back.

Heat, not from the fire, rose to your face and you quietly asked if he’d like to take a walk. He turned red, looked toward his crew but then said yes. He rose from his seat and held out a hand, you took it and when he pulled you up – your hand fell to his chest. “Only for tonight…”

He understood. “Let’s not waste time then.”

You laughed then and told him you wanted to get another bottle from Zoro, who had been hoarding them all night. He agreed and said he was going to let his crew know he’d be back…

“In the morning,” you advised, holding back a smile as his face turned maroon. Watching as he walked away, you laughed at how technical and cool he could be. Wrapping his jittoku around your chest, you made your way to your family. It seemed they all had gathered back around the same fire from earlier and Luffy grinned, shouting your name as you approached. Making a beeline to Zoro, you touched his shoulder and asked if he had any more bottles left. He grimaced but handed over a full bottle. Nami asked where you got the jittoku from and when you said Law, everyone’s eyes, including Sanji’s moved to you. Robin looked the most amused. Laughing nervously, you held up the bottle. “We’re celebrating, aren’t we? How about one last toast for the night? Just between us.”

This turned everyone’s attention from your newest and shortest flame, to Usopp handing out sake cups. Zoro passed around a bottle, and everyone poured a healthy helping. Laughter and jokes were traded, and tears formed in your eyes when Luffy stood up. Your chin quivered as everyone listened to him express his gratitude for the best crew he could ever ask for. When he held out his cup, each one of you stood up. Zoro nudged you playfully but as everyone cheered and toasted, Sanji’s eyes met yours. He looked devastatingly handsome in the light of the fire, surrounded by the sounds of familial warmth and all you wanted to do was go to him, but you couldn’t. Instead, you smiled, and he smiled back – and in that moment, it felt enough.

At least he was happy.

Drinking up the sake, you laughed when Luffy accidentally spilled some into the fire prompting Nami to yell at him. An argument over nothing broke out between Zoro and Sanji, while Franky laughed and laughed and as everyone was distracted, you slipped away. Only looking back to get a look at your family, not expecting anyone to be looking but Sanji was. He must have stopped fighting with Zoro because he stood in front of the fire, facing your direction, cigarette hanging from his lips. He was feet away, but it felt like miles and when Law’s hand came down onto your shoulder – Sanji didn’t look away, but you did. You turned to Law with the bottle of ale, and he smiled, asking if you were ready for that walk.

“I’ve never been more ready.”

Maybe it was your imagination or intuition or hope, but you could feel Sanji’s eyes baring down into your back but when Law slipped his hand around yours – you pushed away any thoughts of the cook and left them behind with the celebration. The music grew softer as Law and you walked back into the town, talking quietly about everything that had gone on. You asked how he was feeling physically, and he confessed he was very tired. You mentioned the inn that had been offered to house the crew and he agreed to go to it. He held your hand, like a nervous gentleman, the entire time and when you led him upstairs to your room – the two of you wasted no time. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he took off his hat and pulled you to him. His hands fell to your waist and when you kissed him, both your bodies melted.

How long had it been since you were touched?

Too long.

Law kissed you softly, hand under your chin as he led you backwards toward the bed. Your knees hit the edge and he slowly unraveled his jittoku that you wore, then the silk kimono. Your nerves faded into excitement, moving down onto the bed, his body on top of yours. Moonlight shined through the small window next to the bed and when he moved further into you – there was nothing in your mind but the man above you.

............

tags:

@stuckinthewrongworld @theyluvmesblog

@synchronised-beat @hi3431

@fandomsunited @ghostercy

want to be tagged in next part? leave a comment!

#what he deserves series #sanji x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece sanji #one piece law #trafalgar law

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eepyuii · 5 months

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frostbite — pt. 4

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; brief mentions of drowning, fighting (?)

note ; i’m ngl i’m kinda proud of this chapter, i may have done the smidgenmost cooking. also i will be making a masterlist soon!!

previous | next | masterlist

liyue harbor looked its prettiest at night.

the lantern lights made the city’s colors pop out so much more. from afar, the harbor looked like it’s own galaxy of yellow stars or like a celestial being as lively as its nightlife. this isn’t even the first time you’ve thought this- zapolyarny palace also seemed infinitely more majestic when the lights turned on during the evening. it almost made you enjoy working late shifts.

almost.

unfortunately, aesthetics can’t sugarcoat the things the fatui has done and that you’ve been a witness to. the mass production of delusions, the robbery of gnoses and let’s not even get started on the things the doctor has done. even with eleven harbingers, who all have their fair share of unorthodox acts, don’t seem to rival the blasphemies your very boss has committed. blasphemies you’ve only watched, sitting neatly and keeping your mouth shut, and done nothing about. you’re only undeservingly grateful you weren’t present for the majority of his atrocities. but then again, who even were you to keep count of divine punishments you would never provide to the sinners who warranted them?

plus, now wasn’t the time to dwell on entirely so much.

if you stood lifelessly in the middle of the street for any longer, someone might get suspicious. you choose to head towards the coastal side of the harbor, merely observing the crowds walk back and forth between the street businesses. a few steps further and you reach a small street food restaurant- wanmin restaurant. the line of customers is concerningly big for such a time of day, you shiver to imagine what it’s like during lunch time.

the large, open window of the restaurant shows an older man attending to the customers with utmost friendliness and behind him, a younger blue-haired girl hurries from side to side as she rushes to ready the dishes. you see her look down and speak as if talking to someone incredibly short, so short that they’re entirely covered by the half wall of the window.

you furrow your eyebrows, confused by the sight- that is until the girl turns to you and panic invades her expression.

“guoba, wait! watch out for-“

before she finishes her sentence, you feel a faint thump against your leg. you look down to see… what in all honesty just looked like a teddy bear- except it seemed entirely alive and currently knocked over on the ground, paw wiping its little forehead as if it got hurt on the crash with your calf. next to it was also a small bag of mora, spilling over onto the sidewalk.

you hurry to gather up the coins and put them back in the bag before any slimy passerby could snatch them away while the girl steps over to help up the teddy bear.

“agh… i shouldn’t have sent you out to get groceries in such a hurry and you also need to watch where you go better!” she reprimands the creature, patting it down to smooth away any dirt.

“a-and i’m so very sorry! we’re overflowing with customers today and we were running out of oil so i thought i’d have guoba run to mr. dongsheng’s shop but i guess the pressure got him distracted…” she bows apologetically and the bear follows suit.

chuckling sheepishly, you wave the gesture off. “please, there’s no need for all that… it was just an accident after all.” you look down at the bag of mora in your hand.

“say, why don’t i go buy that oil for you? i’m not busy at the moment and you and… guoba clearly need all your attention on the food.”

her eyes light up as if the second coming of rex lapis has just occurred before her. “you’d do that? oh, that would be amazing! thank you so much…” she trails off as if waiting for you to say your name.

“y/n.”

“y/n! thank you so much, y/n. i’m xiangling, by the way!”

the shop just around the corner from the restaurant and you dutifully wait in line to be attended by mr. dongsheng. you’re almost getting lost in thought until you hear an exclamation from nearby.

“x-xingqiu wait up!” what sounded like a young boy huffed out, sprinting from nearby. you turn to see exactly a young light-blue haired boy in white clothes rushing to catch up with another boy with darker blue hair in elegant navy garbs who was already waiting for him at the bridge to the outskirts of town.

“come on, you slowpoke!” the other boy giggles and as his friend is finally beside him, he abruptly grabs his wrist and pulls him along to run once more.

the display is so genuine and lighthearted that it even makes you chuckle fondly, makes you nostalgic for a simpler time.

you buy the oil and swiftly head back to wanmin restaurant, where xiangling is practically weeping with gratitude. “oh thank you, thank you, thank you! you’re a real lifesaver, please let me repay you- a whole evening of dishes on the house with whatever guests you’d like!” she bows once more.

“don’t sweat it… but i’ll hold you to that.” you nod amusedly and make your way out to leave xiangling and guoba to their arduous cooking.

your aimless wandering through the harbor takes you to the eastern side next, to the passageway between the pool of lotuses that leads to bubu pharmacy. you lean against the railing, watching intently as the fish swim aimlessly through the calm waters- then you turn to watch the people crossing the passageway, couples, families, childhood friends all enjoying the comfortable mundaneness of life.

turning even further, you spot a small girl sitting at the top of the staircase that leads to bubu pharmacy, you’ve seen her before behind the counter of the establishment… qiqi, was it? she sits at the edge of the elevated structure, facing the piers of the harbor as she watches with droopy eyes and what seemed to be a glass of milk in her hands.

the sleepiness in her expression reminds you of how late into the night it must be, urging you to head back to your quarters and get whatever sleep you can.

on your way up the stairs of the catwalks, you pass by heyu tea house, where an opera is taking place. the singer is a young girl, adorning traditional liyuean opera garbs that flow gracefully with the elegant twists and turns of the dance she performs. not to mention her unparalleled singing accompanied by the smooth sounds of a liyuean instrument, a guqin as you recall it- her voice so mesmerizing it nearly pulls all of the attention away from the heart wrenching tale it tells.

you’d heard stories about liyuean opera and how entirely different it was from the snezhnayan iterations, but none of the descriptions truly made justice to the fantastical spectacle you stumbled upon by luck. once again, you almost forget you were supposed to head to your dorm and rest.

unfortunately, rest is not for you.

you lay in your bed, eyes wide awake and fixated at the decorated ceiling as you recall all that you saw this evening. the liveliness of the common folk, xiangling and guoba, the two boys, the young girl from the pharmacy delighting in something as simple as a glass of milk, the opera performance. it’s all so human, so natural, simple, meaningful and so entirely precious. you’d made an enjoyable evening stroll just out of watching people… be people.

and you were going to drown it all in just a few days.

well, not as much you as childe was going to. but you didn’t do anything to counter it, not a peep of disagreement, not an act of defiance, not even an idea of an alternate solution. all because of some goddamn chess piece for the tsaritsa’s stupid plan. a pang of forced guilt hits your heart- you’d be surely decapitated in the town square for saying such things about her grace, or thinking rather. but that’s not how you feel, you’d care less about not criticizing an archon if they were truly being stupid.

but that’s how childe feels.

he reveres the tsaritsa blindly more than anyone you know. you needed to speak to him, first thing tomorrow.

surely he wouldn’t mind pulling out of his ingenious, but foolishly dangerous, plan just for you?

—

they say early bird gets the worm yet here you remain, up at the ass crack of dawn with no worm to speak of. if you were slightly less exhausted at the moment, you would’ve caught onto ekaterina’s look of sheer pity towards you.

“good morning, sergeant! how may i help you?” she greets politely.

“mmh.. yes, morning…” you mumble back, pinching the bridge of your nose. “would you know where childe is right now?”

“i believe childe is currently exercising outside of the harbor. would you like to leave a message for him?”

“no no- no need, i’ll just go to him myself. where exactly outside of town is he?”

“childe usually likes to train up in the mountains behind yujing terrace, he took a few officers to train alongside him so it won’t be difficult to spot the group.” you nod and mutter a curt ‘thank you’ to her. your feet feel like they’ve got pure geo constructs tied to them but you manage to make it to the door of northland bank- though before you get to make your way out, you hear ekaterina call out to you.

“i would advise you to bring a weapon, sergeant! knowing how stubborn childe is.”

chuckling at the indirect jab toward childe that she delivers, you only materialize your polearm with the power of your vision, the only instance you’ll ever use it.

“don’t i know it.”

sometimes you wonder if childe is even human- the mere climb to the mountains behind yujing terrace was enough exercise to last you a week or so. once you settled upon the mountain top, heaving as if death were at your doorstep, you take in your surroundings to spot a small group of men in the distance, gathered in a circle that and facing away from you. a few more minutes of walking reveal that they are in fact clad in fatui uniform and the sound of grunts, thuds and the ever despair-inducing sound of the eleventh harbinger’s maniacal laughter.

you join the circle silently, eyes sharp and cold, to watch as childe effortlessly topples over a low-rank officer. a little more observation would show that this poor man wasn’t the first one to receive such treatment, as all the other men look over with sheer horror in their eyes and dirt clinging to their uniforms- all while childe’s clothes remain spotless and neat. said terrified men notice your sudden presence and scurry to salute you properly with trembling arms while you merely gesture for them to be at ease.

“so! who would like to go next?” the harbinger calls out obliviously only to be met with shameful silence. he scans the whole circle like a bloodthirsty predator, though once he finally turns around to see you there, his eyes seem to gain a different light. if they can even attain any.

“y/n! to what do we owe the pleasure to have you here?” he laughs, raising a hand to gesture to you while facing the other officers. “gentlemen, sergeant y/n of the medical division.”

the officers almost immediately salute you once more and you sigh. “please, at ease.”

“truly impeccable timing, doc! i’ve just sparred one-on-one with each one of these officers to teach them a thing or two about combat. though… i might’ve gone a little too hard, plus they might learn better through observing rather than getting shoved around one by one. so why don’t the two of us spar?”

you put up a hand to stop him. “yeah yeah, unfortunately i’m not here to rumble. i’ve got something i’d like to discuss with y-“

“aw, come on! this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for these gentlemen!” childe whines.

“i really would rather not, it’s a bit of an important matter that i want to sort out-“

“it’ll be quick! just one round.”

“i didn’t sleep well last night plus-“

“then a spar is just the way to get the blood pumping!”

“can we please just talk for a few minutes and then you can go back to-“

slash.

where you expected to receive another interruption from childe was instead the sharp tip of a hydro blade right beside your head, narrowingly missing you by a hair. the officers gasp dramatically, while you practically stab childe with the incredulous glare you throw him. even worse, the asshole only smirks playfully as if it was just a playground game.

being on the other side of his blade is famously not unfamiliar to you.

you summon your polearm without thinking and swing it angrily from right to left, hoping only to get the hydro sword away from you. childe does exactly as you predict and steps back expertly to dodge your spear, bearing the widest grin. what ensues next is a tiring back and forth between the two of you- childe hits, you hit back to defend yourself, childe hits back harder. the men watch intently as if watching the most intense play of their lives. it’s probably after a good eight minutes of fighting that your arms start growing weary from how tightly you’re holding onto your weapon and your legs get even sorer than they were from how much you climbed. this is getting stupid.

you put all your focus into finding an opening in childe’s strikes to overtake him, finding it within his next attack, where he switches his grip on the twin blades so the sharp sides face outward and he brings his arms together to create momentum for a double-sided swing that covers the entire of his front. in the millisecond that his hands are next to each other, you send a wave of frigid air that freezes the entirety of his swords and bites at his fingers in a way that makes him hiss and drop the weapons on instinct.

as the icy blades collide with the ground, they shatter into a million glittering shards. childe looks down, half-shocked half-amused at the display and laughs once more. he continues to stare at the ground, any trace of his swords is entirely gone- though it’s no matter, as hydro is already swirling down his wrists as he prepares a new set.

“hah… the fun finally begi-“

before he can finish his taunt, you’re tackling him onto the ground, taking advantage of his distraction. you kneel with one knee up, the other is latched firmly beside childe’s torso, and press your polearm firmly across his arms as to restrain him. the fatui officers are practically losing their minds at this point.

“enough.” you huff out with a snarl, chest heaving up and down violently.

childe is finally, truly at a loss for words. he looks up at you as if you’re the most divine being he’s ever seen and the halo of sunlight that forms around you really doesn’t help. though, you only interpret it as him simply being so surprised that someone finally beat him. after a few seconds of remaining in the position, you take it childe has surrendered and stand up and away from him.

you dust off your clothes and utter without looking up. “leave. all of you.” the men sprint out of the scene like startled rabbits.

“now can we talk?”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap

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merakiui · 2 years

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Mera-chan, have you noticed all the yandere jade fics are all about him being a dom and a sadist but, what if the reader who is small and shy ( who he sees that he can take advantage of) doms him instead?

Like imagine him laying on his back, tears running down his cheeks, tongue out and perhaps his eyes rolling to the back as the 'oh so small and shy' darling is fucking him silly. Maybe she praises him calling him a good boy or maybe degrades him by asking him if isn't he the one who wanted to lock her up?

Oh what a twist it'd be!

OOOHH this is very true. Small darling domming Jade… <3 I’ll share some thoughts below. >:)

(cw: yandere, nsfw, female reader, drugging/aphrodisiac, unhealthy behaviors/relationship)

Jade’s opinion of you isn’t the nicest. Truthfully, he thinks you’re a weakling who can’t stand up for yourself when customers get rowdy or Floyd pokes fun at you. Always tearing up, hunching your shoulders to make yourself look even smaller, whispering soft apologies… You should know better than to act like that in the Mostro Lounge, of all places. Aren’t you aware of the types of predators that reside here? You’re lucky you haven’t been snatched up in someone’s maw yet. Fragile things like you wouldn’t last a day in the Coral Sea.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he wanted to see how much abuse you could take until breaking. He’d watch as Floyd toys with you, threatening to bite and squeeze you, twirling you around the lounge during after hours as if you’re nothing more than a chew toy for him. He’d stand at Azul’s side and listen as the octo-mer tries to coach you into being more upbeat and cute because your gloomy and shy personality might deter customers. He’d watch from the bar as customers scold you for messing their orders up, only stepping in at the very last moment when it was most convenient. If you haven’t noticed his obvious delight in witnessing you overcome these pressures, then you might just be sightless.

You know his angle. As shy as you may be, that doesn’t make you blind. You know he takes great pleasure in watching you build yourself back up during every shift. It’s mean-hearted, but you’re not surprised. You wish he’d focus on someone else—someone who might actually entertain him more than you already do. But you aren’t afforded that luxury, so perhaps he’ll leave you be if you give him a reason to do so.

Azul’s been working Jade to the bone tonight. Of course he won’t object to every request Azul makes, simply because it’s work he can handle as a Vice Housewarden. That’s why, in the midst of juggling all this work, he doesn’t think anything of the hot tea you present to him, steam curling from the liquid in fragrant tendrils. He’s grateful that a cute thing like you would bother to prepare him a cup and he takes it from you with his usual close-lipped smile.

You’d feel bad about putting an aphrodisiac in Jade’s drink if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve caught his stare from afar. He’s a stalker and Azul clearly doesn’t care enough to keep him in line after you’ve made covert complaints in his VIP room. If anything, this is your own form of revenge. If Jade enjoys watching you squirm, he’ll get to experience what it’s like when he’s the one squirming. And oh does Jade dislike being observed. :)

To your delight he squirms. Not at first, of course. As the drug works its way through his system and he continues his shift, feigning his usual content nature, you stand off to the side and observe. Your rag has been washing circles into the table for three minutes now, but you can’t quite tear your eyes off Jade as his face grows increasingly flushed, his breathing haggard, and his gait unsteady as he balances drinks and meals. What a rare sight. You can’t help slyly snapping a photo for blackmail’s sake.

Jade corners you in the storage room when you dip in briefly to grab more napkins. He presses himself against you, effectively pinning you to the shelf. And then he lowers to his knees, bowing before you as he clutches at your legs. A strained smirk worms onto his face.

“Well played…” he murmurs, staring up at you through glazed eyes.

You smile down at him, voice sweet like birdsong. “Stop stalking me, you creep.” You shake him off of you, irritation clouding your eyes. “I can’t stand people like you.”

And with that, you stride out of the storage room, leaving Jade with his labored breathing and near-painful hard-on. If you thought this would deter him, you’re sorely mistaken.

As expected, you’re an interesting human. He’s found himself addicted to you.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #meraki thirsts #n/sfw #tw: drugging #tw: aphrodisiac #JADE!!! *grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him*#if you see me simping… no you do not ^^;;;

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yummycastiel · 1 year

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''the dreamer'' part 5- aemond targaryen x oc

summary: Aemond and Daenys grow closer, and the Queen notices.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

story summary: Daenys Velaryon, the brown-haired third child of Rhaenyra and Laenor, travels to King’s Landing with her family to visit the King, her grandfather, and to witness Jacaerys’ and Baela’s wedding. As tensions between house Targaryen rise, Daenys and Aemond cross paths once again, and the prince discovers an annoying attraction to the Velaryon girl

~~~

Daenys.

Daenys was watching Aemond from afar as he trained in the courtyard with Ser Criston Cole. She was dressed in her riding leathers that she trained in while she was in Dragonstone and was relishing the fact that this time, she was going to be the one doing the sneaking up on. Ever since the princess had first seen Aemond train she had wanted to have him teach her how to wield a sword. It wasn’t that Daemon, or her brothers, refused to, but simply that Daenys was not very good at it. While Daenys was talented with the knife and the bow, she struggled with swords, and it made her feel pathetic. Long had she admired Visenya Targaryen of old, the warrior queen of Westeros with Dark Sister, and Daenys refused to allow herself to become a weak and helpless woman that embroidered her days away. Daenys did not want to admit it, but her biggest secret, her innermost fear was that she was weak. Despite the Strong and Targaryen blood running through her veins, she cowered at the idea of being less than what was expected of her, and so she resolved to be as strong as she could be. While Daemon encouraged her fiery attitude, Rhaenyra was cautious, only allowing her to train with her husband.

Aemond seemed a capable and dangerous swordsman, having bested Criston many a time. If Daenys were to learn, she wanted to learn from him. Not to mention she discreetly wanted an excuse to spend more time with the prince, but she fooled herself with the other explanation.

Daenys watched as Aemond twirled his sword expertly in his hand while watching Criston Cole, who was picking himself up off the ground. Silently, she moved forward and planted herself a couple paces behind her uncle.

‘’Do you not tire of getting the better of the same man all the time?’’ She called out, her tone light, but still trying to test the silver prince. Aemond and Criston both turned to look at her, and while Criston’s dark features were twisted in confused, Aemond’s face remained expressionless, almost as if he had been expecting her.

‘’My sweet niece,’’ Aemond called out to her, sheathing his sword, ‘’Have you come to train?’’ The corner of his lips irked up into a small smile as he watched her approach. Ser Criston looked bothered as he too sheathed his weapon.

‘’Princess Daenys, this is no place for a lady,’’ Criston began, ‘’Does your mother know you are here?’’ Daenys rolled her eyes as she prowled the training yard.

‘’My mother does not care if I am here.’’ She replied simply. Criston seemingly was ready for her retort.

‘’The Queen then,’’ He threatened, ‘’She would not wish for a lady such as yourself to be involved in the antics of men.’’ At this, Daenys faltered, her eyes narrowing at the snooty knight. She wanted to give him a good punch in the face. Queen Alicent was a bother indeed, since she was the one who forbade her in her youth from training.

‘’Go ahead and tell my mother if you so wish Ser,’’ Aemond interjected, coming to Daenys’ rescue, ‘’I see nothing wrong with having the Princess here, and I do not think she will be arrested and tried for it.’’ Daenys gave Aemond a grateful look as Criston curled his lip at his prince. He nodded stiffly and gave a quick bow before storming off, no doubt to whisper in Queen Alicent’s ear. Daenys watched him go, then turned to Aemond, suddenly aware that they were alone.

‘’I was hoping that you could teach me some sword skills.’’ She began wringing her hands again. While she and Aemond were on better terms now, she still felt rather nervous around him, but did everything in her power to hide it. Aemond remained as stoic and calm as he always did, but he no longer directed any sneers or japes her way and treated her as a friend.

‘’Your father and brothers were unavailable?’’ Aemond asked in his usual calm voice, eyeing her.

‘’I want to train with you.’’ The princess replied honestly. Aemond blinked, his smile growing slightly.

‘’Very well,’’ He mused, ‘’You mentioned that you use knives, and a bow and arrow?’’ Daenys nodded. ‘’Why don’t we see what you are capable of Princess?’’ Aemond gestured to some targets that were placed at one end of the courtyard. They were a good distance away, but Daenys was not fazed. She put herself into position, unsheathing a black Valyrian steel knife that she had strapped to her waist. Daenys could feel Aemond’s gaze on her, and she almost faltered for a moment before she aimed and threw her knife towards the target. Her throw was quick, the knife sailing through the air, and in the blink of an eye it had pierced the middle of the target. Just to show off a little, Daenys covered her eyes with her original throwing hand, and threw with the other. The second knife hit the target once more, piercing the canvas right beside the other one. Daenys removed her hand to give Aemond a cheeky grin. The prince had his hands behind his back, eye watching her intently, still not looking surprised but instead had another look that Daenys couldn’t quite recognize.

‘’Impressive.’’ Aemond offered. Daenys went to collect her knives, hoping that her uncle didn’t notice her the tips of her ears going red.

‘’I can fight with them too, but I know that wouldn’t be terribly helpful in a real battle.’’ She explained.

‘’Were you planning on joining any battles Daenys?’’ Aemond questioned lightly. Daenys laughed.

‘’If I must, I would not avoid it.’’ Daenys replied simply, ‘’I know what it means to be a dragon rider. I would be used for battle, me, and my dragon. What I want to make sure of is that I am never be unprepared if I were to ever fall from Aegarax.’’ Aemond hummed softly as he examined the practice swords that were lined up in the yard.

‘’A wise decision.’’ He said finally. He picked up a sword and tossed it in her direction. ‘’Pick it up, let’s see what you’re capable of.’’ Daenys felt her stomach twist with nerves, which surprised her. She was not one to care what others thought of her, but the idea of embarrassing herself in front of Aemond was daunting. The princess picked up the sword, thankful that it wasn’t too heavy. Aemond unsheathed his own sword and had circled away from her to get in a ready position. He jumped up and down, warming himself up, a smirk on his face as he watched Daenys prepare herself.

‘’Don’t go easy on me, uncle.’’ Daenys joked, as she tensed her body, ready for his strike. Aemond chuckled, and without warning, almost knocking Daenys off her feet, he lunged, his sword flashing and as if by instinct Daenys’ own blade rushed to meet his, almost at its own accord. Surprised at herself, Daenys stepped back as the swords clashed. Aemond drew back, bringing his sword down on her this time, and again, Daenys was able to block it. She gripped the sword with two hands, while Aemond held his in one. The prince sent attack after attack in Daenys’ direction, and she kept on blocking them, until finally she had the sense to use her size to her advantage. Aemond swung, she ducked while making a swipe with her own sword, just grazing the prince’s stomach. Aemond fell back, his eye open with slight shock.

‘’Good.’’ Aemond rasped, a hungry smile on his face as he took a breath, ‘’Very good, dear niece.’’ Daenys’ heart swelled with pride, but the feeling was squashed suddenly as Aemond threw himself forward, attacking her with full strength. Daenys, barely able to keep up, was left dazed as Aemond had somehow managed to get behind her, where he pulled her back flush against his chest. His sword was across her stomach, just barely touching her, but it was over. Daenys could not help but laugh good-naturedly, and was surprised to hear Aemond laughing as well, the deep rumble reverberating from his chest and Daenys could feel it move through her body. His laugh was not something she had heard for a long time. It was a beautiful sound and she longed to hear it again.

‘’You fight decently enough,’’ Aemond whispered in Daenys’ ear, sending shivers down her spine, ‘’For a princess.’’ Daenys bit back a weak laugh, hyper-aware of still being pressed against against the prince.

‘’ And I should like to fight like a certain prince, so teach me, Aemond.’’ She replied as Aemond withdrew his sword slowly. He studied her for a moment, but nodded.

‘’If that is your wish Daenys.’’ Aemond said in his calm tone. The way he said her name made her feel as though she was hearing it for the first time.

Aemond.

Aemond found that he could not deny Daenys anything, as she asked him to help her learn how to wield a sword. The way she looked up at him with her big brown eyes, the way her chest heaved from the rush of their closeness, the way her cheeks were pink. Aemond marvelled at the fire in her eyes. He never thought that he would be so drawn, so enthralled, by what he used to call ‘’common’’ features. Daenys was one of a kind to him.

Aemond agreed to the princess’ request, yet as soon as they had moved into position once more, a voice called out to them from the balcony. The two looked up to see the King Viserys and Queen Alicent watching them from above. The king was gesturing to them to join them, but Aemond’s mother was giving them a disapproving gaze. Aemond shared a glance with Daenys.

‘’Wonder what that’s about.’’ Daenys muttered, as she put her sword away and stalked off to meet the royal couple. Aemond smiled to himself as he followed the princess to meet his parents.

‘’ Your Graces.’’ Daenys greeted the King and Queen, bowing instead of a curtsy. Aemond stood beside her, hands behind his back, waiting for their responses. Viserys, in his sickliness, was looking at them fondly, oblivious to the poisonous look that his wife gave them.

‘’Princess Daenys, don’t you think that your mother would disapprove of you taking part in…in this swordplay?’’ Queen Alicent asked in a careful tone, her fake nicety masking her pure disapproval. Daenys shrugged beside Aemond.

‘’She would not, I don’t think.’’ Was all she said, and Aemond had to suppress a smile. Alicent rolled her eyes, her clasped hands tightening. She knew she would get no where with the princess, so she turned to look at her son.

‘’ Aemond, you should not encourage your niece to take part in such unladylike behaviours. You know better.’’ Alicent attempted to appeal to Aemond’s love for her. The prince usually would do anything his mother asked. She was the only woman, other than his sister, that he would move a finger for. He had no other choice. Even though she was a distant mother, she was his mother nonetheless. She was the only one that had ever shown any care for him. Other than Daenys.

‘’I don’t see why I should not help the princess, mother,’’ Aemond responded, making Alicent’s eyes widen, ‘’Women with the blood of the dragon have been warriors in the past.’’ He wasn’t looking at the brown-haired girl beside him, but he could tell that she had turned to stare at him in surprise of his support. Aemond couldn’t help but wonder if he had been too forward with his support of her. No doubt, Alicent felt the same as she ogled at her son, clearly shocked that he was defending Daenys. The prince realized that she was right to be shocked. Not too long ago he had voiced his contempt towards Jacaerys and Lucerys, the bastard princes. Daenys was their sister, clearly not a Velaryon, thereby making her a bastard too. But Aemond seemed to not really care, and by standing by her now, however trivial the issue, he had subtly sent Alicent a sign. The silver-haired prince was surprised at himself for caring so little.

‘’ Let them be, my Queen,’’ The king interjected, before Alicent could say anything, ‘’It’s harmless fun, and I do so enjoy watching my son and my daughters child get along.’’ Viserys, the gods bless him, had a pleased look on his face. For once in his life he had given Aemond the attention he used to so crave. The prince and princess bowed their heads to the King. Queen Alicent bowed hers too in defeat, having been silenced by her husband.

‘’ You are dismissed, Princess.’’ She murmured to Daenys. Aemond now looked at her and their eyes met. He gave her the smallest of nods, and Daenys returned it with the smallest of smiles. Her smile made Aemond’s heart fill, it’s comfort almost taking his breath away. Even the smallest of exchanges between them had such an effect on Aemond, and he cursed her for it.

~~~

taglist: @caspianobsessed, @sad-3-soul, @feiwelinchen, @justbehindmyself, @joniinoj, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @crispmarshmallow, @sqrlgrrl2, @juneisreading, @fragilemarissa, @hannaeditzs, @faerosewood1723, @dr3amsofreality, @tsuki007, @coyotesamachado, @havecourage-darling, @random-human02, @mrswhitethornbelikov, @imjustboredso, @justsumtuffstuff, @darylandbethfanforever9, @ch3rrydoll, @midnightIiv, @muddleofnervouswords, @grippleback-galaxy, @dan3avacado, @lilostif16, @lyannesworld

#house of the dragon #game of thrones #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x original female character #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x ofc

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davidsclassblog · 1 year

Text

Blog Post #3, contd. (writing on bottom!)

It brings me some peace because I don’t have to interact with so many people at a standard job and I’m not really exposed to danger. People just buy my art and I’m able to survive off it.” As you can see, Jack never made a lot of money. He’s now a regular old man that makes decorative pieces from the trees on his property. I guess he could be lower-middle/middle-class since he has his own business, owns his cabin, and lives comfortably. We later discussed the difference in culture seen in 2022 America and 1980s America. Jack tells me that he’s eternally grateful for Wendy not involving the police in their incident because he’s been a free man all his life. Unfortunately, he’s alone, but he was never in jail. He’s been able to witness multiple changes in the country throughout the years and he’s impressed. Jack tells me: “This country has advanced so much in the last 42 years that it’s almost unrecognizable. I won’t discuss the political climate because they’re all terrible and I don’t want to end up arguing about this country’s problems. I feel like the country has definitely improved. There are still many problems like poverty and whatnot, but I feel good here. The scientific and medical advancements seen are incredible. While I’ve never had to go through anything serious. I can admire from afar and applaud these young people for doing so much to make this world a better place.” Finally, we wrapped up the interview by returning to the Overlook Hotel incident from 1980 with his family. We reflected on it and came to the conclusion that he should’ve gone to jail. He took a life and almost killed his family before they escaped. He accepts that it should be that way, but is grateful it isn’t. He’s also grateful for how perfect it was for him back then when he lost control in the hotel. Law enforcement has gotten so much stricter and the agencies have multiplied. The police in the 80s were nothing compared to the law enforcement of 2022 America. If he had committed those crimes in today’s day in age, he would be locked up under the jail while they tested his brain for an explanation as to why he lost control in a “haunted” hotel. It’s also very probable that he didn’t lose his mind because of a spirit/mysterious being, but maybe he just lost his mind in the loneliness. We saw how he started to beat himself up when he was drinking at the hotel bar for things that happened in his past. Maybe the mix of bad traumas, isolation, and stories of murders and unfortunate events at the hotel drove him crazy. We both stood up, looked each other in the eyes, and shook hands. I said: “Thanks for accepting the interview and for answering my questions. He replied: “It was a pleasure. Did you know that you’re the most respectful person I’ve interacted with since that day? Thank you for not being afraid to talk to me. He exited the room and the interview was over.

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katutsukushii · 3 years

Text

Singer Dabi who's in some punk band, covered in tattoos, piercings, the smell of weed and signs of bad decisions made while under the influence of god knows what, getting dragged to a ballet performance by his rich parents as a "family bonding night".

He complained, he bitched, he tried to get out of it, but his parents said 'please' and his mother looked at him like that, all expectant and desperate while her delicate scent of daisies and chamomile tea wrapped itself around him.

And so he put on the stupid suit that they bought for him for this occasion and he sat in the gallery as if he wanted to spend his Saturday evening watching idiots prance around.

His damn band had plans to go to some fuckin' shitty, high-end club that night, maybe even pick up some Omega's, and yet here he was, in a stuffy suit with scent blockers attached to his neck because, apparently, his family 'didn't want to smell his bitch ass attitude all night.'

Natsuo always did have a way with words.

Yet, even with the attire's desperate attempt to make him look somewhat presentable and less like someone who would and could rob your house just for kicks, the intricate tattoos covering his hands and neck were still visible, poking through the fabric and revealing blue flames.

That, his mother could somehow forgive - she often did call them beautiful, no matter how trashy it was called in their circles. "It is art, Touya, regardless of the way it makes you look like a delinquent," she would say.

But the piercings covering almost every inch of his face - nose, bridge, lips, cheeks, ears, tongue - and the chipped black nail polish, she could not ignore. Had it not been for just how late they almost were, he was certain it would've resulted in an argument. As it was, all his mother did was tut at his appearance and trail her thumb over the piercing in his cheek, asking if he could, just this once, not look as if he'd fallen into a tub of staples - but he shook his head at the question.

If he was going to get through this, he needed something to tie him down to who he truly was.

Acting as if he wasn't a fuck up wasn't something he wished to do - not now, not ever.

It was why he was so popular, after all; he couldn't very well completely replace his brand as the stupid punk who once crashed the tour bus the night of their biggest performance. But this.

This wasn't part of his goddamn brand.

He had no interest in this, he never had - the music was grating and far too delicate for his liking, the dancing was mind-numbingly boring, and he was only allowed a single glass of champagne and nothing more.

Maybe if he was intoxicated in some way this would be tolerable, but no. His parents demanded he be fully present throughout the evening, no matter his feelings on the matter. He almost snuck in a flask, hiding it in the inner pocket of his jacket, but then Shouto threw him a smirk and told their mother just what he was trying to do. Stupid little shit, wasn't Dabi suffering enough already? But he couldn't start a fight just then, not yet. So he bit his tongue and swallowed the curses as he sat and stewed in his own anger and annoyance, feeling the disapproving glare of his father on him while Natsuo tried and failed to hide his chuckles. At least someone was amused by the tension ready to snap in the room.

But the subtle laughter died the moment the lights dimmed and the music began to play. And with that, any hope at making it through the night without throwing a temper tantrum died. Already, he regretted every decision he'd ever made that lead up to that moment.

His family seemed enraptured, at least - well, Fuyumi and his parents did. Shouto still had that stupid deadpan look on his face, eyes dull and lips pressed together. Stupid fish looking fucker.

If he didn't see him blink every once in a while, Dabi would've assumed he was dead - he really would have to find out how the fuck he managed to zone out like that, it was a damn talent.

And Natsuo pushed his chair as far as he possibly could, the light on his phone dimmed down yet still visible when Dabi turned to him. Stupid fucker - how dare he have his phone out when Dabi got stuck with the dumb ass seat where his parents could clearly see him?

He bristled and turned back towards the stage - maybe he could pretend to get sick? But, fuck, his parents would see right through his shit, his mother giving him that disappointed look of his and his father looking like he couldn't believe he raised someone like /that/.

So he pressed his cheek against his palm as he rested his elbow upon the table and swirled the remains of his champagne in the glass with his free hand. And just as a yawn escaped him, eyes tearing up as his mouth widened, he saw him.

Even from afar, his beauty was undeniable, something that he seldom witnessed, even with the hordes of people throwing themselves at his feet - soft-looking, light hair adorned with a delicate crystal crown, the jewels shimmering as the boy began to move across the stage.

An Omega, Dabi already knew even without asking or catching notes of his scent. His body was the perfect example of the subgender, soft and filled out in all the right spaces as his waist tapered off beneath the pale pink dress he wore.

Yet there was something different about him.

A sharpness he rarely saw in Omega's lurked beneath the edges - maybe it was those dark eyes, the sharp jawline and strong legs, or maybe it was his mere aura. Concentrated. Determined. Powerful.

But a fragile gentleness hid beneath the strength he held. The Omega was a contradiction that seemed to lure him in with every movement he made.

For a moment, his fingers twitched, mind whirling with song lyrics that were yet to be sung, and he cursed himself for not bringing something to write onto. He. He was his muse.

Dabi daren't say a word for the rest of the performance. Enraptured, captivated, he merely stared at the stage as if it were this goddamn salvation.

When the boy disappeared, he waited for his return, and when he danced on the stage, he could hardly force himself to blink or even breathe. Any second spent without looking at the beautiful creature was a second wasted.

He already knew that he wouldn't wish to set his gaze upon anyone or anything else ever again.

His only hope was that his parents never found out about his sudden interest in the dancer - he would surely never live it down if they knew it was /their/ family outing that resulted in him meeting the only source of inspiration he would ever need.

But he didn't allow his worries to take hold, not when /he/ was still right there, hands of his partner holding onto that lithe waist and raising him in the air, toes pointed and every goddamn inch of him filled with grace that Dabi, himself, did not possess.

And when the performance finished, when the boy stood in the midst of the stage and looked up, deep vermillion meeting blue, Dabi stood and he gave his muse the applause he deserved.

#bnha #dbbk #dabibaku #jayrambles #alcohol mention #drug mention #i think that's it

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delu-jean · 3 years

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OKAY HIIII CAN I GET A HEADCANNON OF READER IN A LOVE TRIANGLE WITH DEKU AND KATSUKI AND SHES BFF WITH DEKU AND AND ANDDDDDDD SHE HATES BAKUGO BUT THERES THAT STUPID ATTRACTIONNNN? (sorry for all caps)

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞

(Deku x fem!/reader x Bakugou) -> Fluff-> Hcs _> 838

Request: “OKAY HIIII CAN I GET A HEADCANNON OF READER IN A LOVE TRIANGLE WITH DEKU AND KATSUKI AND SHES BFF WITH DEKU AND AND ANDDDDDDD SHE HATES BAKUGO BUT THERES THAT STUPID ATTRACTIONNNN? (sorry for all caps)” -> @glorii-chan

Notes: I tried making it as neutral as possible between the two! If you guys would want separate hcs for a “love traingle” scenario (meaning I go into depth for either character), a specific scenario with the two and the reader, or a part where the reader chooses either, please ask and I’ll do my best!

Love the concept of a good old love triangle, and hope you enjoy! ^^

You liked both Izuku and Katsuki...yet to your misfortune...they both also liked you (0-0)

Though it should’ve been something you were ecstatic about, it wasn’t

For one, Katsuki Bakugou was someone who infuriated you at times

He was so hot headed and had no filter

But whenever you looked at him (when not in a fit), you couldn’t help but feel attracted both physically, and personality wise

Under all of that exterior he was one heck of a catch

Still, he did annoy you most of the time

Secondly, Deku was your best friend!

He had confessed to you first before you had feelings for him

That being the case, you rejected him...only to regret such a thing

The idea of two best friends “dating”...felt weird at the time

He avoided you for a bit needing space (baby thought he lost you :(( )

Even that being the case, when your feelings had changed, he took note and started to come around again

Thirdly, both had a terrible history

That was another reason why you hated Bakugou

Though you caught feelings for him first, seeing him bully your best friend...was the worst sight one could witness

It saddened you how Deku would do nothing, and instead accommodate with that behaviour

That being the case, you stuck by him and despised Katsuki from afar (until you developed feelings of course)

Regardless of how old such an event was, they both still dragged this commotion into Highschool

Fourthly, both were surprisingly competitive

Remember I mentioned that “Deku would do nothing and instead accommodate with that behaviour”

That applied when Katsuki was being a jerk

But when it came to you, he tried his best to impress you!

Always bought your favourite snacks, drinks, and whatever this gentlemen could get his hands on

He’d also help you with studying, and whatnot (was always caring, understanding, and gentle):

“Mhm, you got it!”

“Wow, such a fast learner!”

“Keep on going Y/n!”

You were grateful/flustered whenever he did so

So when Katsuki saw the way things were being done, he too decided to join in

He would splurge you in gifts, small little notes, and even make you lunch here and there

He’d also help when it came to training, saying things like:

“Oi, you’re not too bad.”

“No you idiot, like this.”

“You’re going to get hurt, be careful...psh”

Though it was cute at first, the more the other would give, the more they would compete

“DEKU! WHY EVEN BOTHER GIVING HER GIFTS!? YOU KNOW I’M GOING TO WIN!”

“Kacchan...I’m sorry but, I have to! Y/n deserves such things, and I’ll be sure to deliver them no matter what!”

“DAMN YOU DEKU! SHE OBVIOUSLY LIKES MY GIFTS MORE!”

“She probably does haha...but I won’t give up! And will treat her like the angle she is!”

“ARGH!”

You adored both of their compliments, but hated the commotion

Fifthly, you liked them for different reasons...ones that were parallel

You liked Katsuki because of his brawn, perseverance, and his respect for you/others in general

Though Katsuki was someone who was quite brash, he’d never look down at an opponent without given a fair chance

You being no different

You admired such sportsmanship and appreciated such gestures

He was also misunderstood at times, and you felt as if you could understand him

Sometimes...his honesty could be taken the wrong way (you knew to well yourself haha)

He was quite the interesting person, with both his ups and downs, yet positives in between

You also weren’t going to deny that you were attracted physically

He was a very good looking boy, and if he had rid of his angry attitude, there would probably be other girls chasing after him

You adored Midoriya because of his kindness, intellect, and his love for those around him

Deku was such a sweetheart and made sure to care for others when he could

Always empathetic towards children, the elderly, and everyone in general

You always looked up to such a figure growing up, and continued to look at Deku in such a way

He was also a very smart boy who did this best when trying almost anything

Gave it his all, and kept on going no matter what!

His heart always had more room to spare for others, and continuously showed his charms

He was also very cute! Something you just couldn’t stop gushing over about

And his chivalry, well it was on point!

Sixth, you weren’t sure about who you liked more

Both were sweet, and liked you a lot

But all in all, you could never find yourself making a final decision

Though you loved both (in that way and as a friend), you found it so difficult to let one down

Especially if you had feelings for the other

You knew it was selfish for you to do this...but you didn’t know what else to do

So as of now, you would spend your time on both yourself, your future ahead, and seeing who would be in it

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killerskillercaptain · 3 years

Text

Peace of mind part 2 / 2

pairing : Levi Ackerman x Reader

word count : 3,206 K

summary : you’re the captain of your own squad, and you have a habit to go spend some time alone in a cabin located near the young recruits quarters. One day, you found Levi there who didn’t mind your company.

themes : deep talks, rain, maybe new beginnings, feelings development (on your side at least), slight interest from Levi’s side if you squint hard enough, life choices, fears, insecurities.

warnings : tw astraphobia (extreme fear of thunder), mentions of death.

You can read part 1 / 2 here

“Oi, why are you leaving? Isn’t this the place you come to for some “peace of mind” ? “Yes, but you’re here now” you replied in a quiet yet steady voice. “And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked looking at you nonchalantly. His tone was sarcastic, his eyes pressed you for an answer.

«Looks like it’s going to rain »

When the captain let out these words, it wasn’t long before cold droplets started to spill one after the other, soon the cabin was draped in watery curtains, making you and the captain take a step back to avoid getting soaked.

If you wanted to get back to your quarters, it was already too late for that, as the rain intensified rather quickly, both of you have been a bit too slow to react. But then again, who could have anticipated such a heavy rain in this time of the year.

« Dammit, i think it’s best to wait. We’ll get soaked down to the bone if we walk under this downpour»

You let out a small « yes », both startled and worried by the sudden change in weather. You were rather...uncomfortable being trapped in here with Levi Ackerman even though your mind was running with reprehensible scenarios right now .

Let’s face it, you always had a thing for the man, even if your only interactions with him consisted in you admiring him quietly from afar and frankly, you’d imagined you’d be thrilled by the idea of being stuck alone with the captain, but you were in such a state of unease right now because of the weather that you couldn't really care about that right now, because generally, heavy rain also meant-

Your thoughts were cut abruptly by the mention of your name.

You actually heard your name ?

Levi was facing you, and had just called you by your name. Not in a million years would you have thought he has it registered in his mind. He said it again as to carefully confirm he was not mistaking.

« That’s your name right ? »

«Yes » you let out in a breath, a little confused.

As if he was reading your mind, taking notes of your interrogative expression, he answered your inner pondering.

« I asked your superiors for your name not long ago. You may have heard of the initiative by now, Erwin and i are in the process of creating a special squad that i’ll be leading. Details are still confidential, but i can tell you that i have been granted complete freedom in selecting the members. »

He paused before continuing, focusing on you.

« and you might be in it »

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe and your mind went blank with the new information. You did hear something of the sort, but you did not imagine Levi considering, well, you. You'd imagined you need more than just skills to impress him. You did give your heart and soul to the cause, you chose to be a soldier, you didn't get thrown into it, you also made the conscious effort to be better and more effective on the battlefield. And right now you, were having a hard time believing that your efforts were actually paying off. Levi’s devotion and dedication served as a fuel to your own, and here you were, both of you discussing the possibility of working under his direct orders. You felt your stomach flutter, it was impossible to tell if it was from fear, anticipation or anything else.

You ignored the feeling when Levi broke the silence again.

« I’ve seen your ranking and your score since you enrolled in the Survey Corps. A few years ago your skills weren’t the impressive kind, but with time you managed to outgrow yourself. Forty titans taken down solo and more than thirty taken down in team, now that's impressive, so i went and asked for your name. »

The thought of Levi walking up to your superiors and asking specifically to be given informations about you made you feel a certain type of way you couldn’t quite pinpoint at the moment. He must also have asked Keith Shadis you thought then. That man always held you in high regards, and you were grateful for it. You never caused trouble, you were discret but efficient, you started to convince yourself that you were indeed, worthy of Levi’s interest, additionally, he did like quiet and efficient people.

The cabin was getting extremely cold with each passing minute, and you were still stuck with no sign of the downpour stopping any soon.

You started shivering, you were both in uniforms, with only your military jackets to keep you warm, neither of you brought your cloak.

If he had his cloak with him, would he offer it to you to keep you warm ?

A bright dash of light appeared somewhere far away but close enough to brighten the interior of the cabin.

Lightning ?

Your heart started pounding voraciously in your chest, and you were afraid Levi was about to witness a side of you that you were afraid might change his mind about you. Not noticing your hands that already started trembling, anticipating what’s to come, you swallowed a thick lump, trying to ground yourself on the wooden structure.

Levi seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but brushed it off. You stayed quite the whole time, you didn’t say anything at the news he just handed you.

You tried to pin your attention on the captain and what he just said, you tried to compose an answer to give him, or maybe just keep a thread of conversation going, but when you opened your mouth, a blasting sound echoed all around, followed by menacing vibrations in the air. The start of a thunderstorm, the sound was as if the sky got torn in half and soon enough, a harsh light spilled through and painted the entire scenery white for a second.

Instinctively you pressed your eyes shut at the sound. When you opened them, you were one inch away from Levi, gripping at his clothes for dear life, as if you were afraid to drown in the harsh light.

As if you were afraid to die.

Your fingers digged so hard into Levi's shirt beneath his jacket that you were positive you were leaving marks on his skin. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly backed off, body still shaking and lips starting to quiver.

« I’m so sorry Capt- »

Another thunderous blow tore the sky a second time, and this time you ducked on the ground with your two hands covering your ears, your eyes closed so hard that little watery pearls started forming at their corners.

To you, it seemed like it was going on forever, and then, you heard Levi pronounce those words you hated to hear about yourself.

« You’re afraid of the thunder ? »

Yes, yes you were

As horribly embarrassing, childish and pathetic as it was, you were.

Since you were just a child, the sound of the sky tearing up was something that made you unreasonably vulnerable. But you couldn’t help it, such an irrational fear was beyond your control and you were fortunate that a thunder erupting during a storm wasn't a very common event inside the walls.

In the rare occasions where it did happen, you felt your mind losing its grip on your body.

You didn’t answer Levi, you couldn’t focus on him, you just kept the palm of your hands pressed flat on your ears to try and hear the least possible of what was going on outside. You knew nothing was going to happen to you, you knew your body shouldn’t be trembling in this way, but you couldn’t reach your mind in these moments and ask of it to calm down, and this is what scared you the most.

That’s it. You thought

The only thought that emerged in your mind for a moment was how pathetic of a side you were showing levi at this moment. Just after he confessed he was thinking about you joining forces with him in fighting for humanity, here you were, scared out of your skull, and out of your control by the big scary sound in the sky.

He’s probably gonna review his opinion of you.

He's probably reviewing his opinion of you right now.

He probably thinks your not fit to fight under his orders.

You kill titans by the dozen.

But here you were, scared of the weather

Sitting down, you had brought your knees up against your chest now, ears still covered, you moved your hands a little as the sound seemed to have ceased only to put them back on quickly as the sky screamed and shook again. You had opened your eyes just to close them again in terror. In terror how pathetic.

You didn’t here Levi shift or make a move until you felt the hem of his jacket poking at your forehead. For a second, the sound stopped and you opened your eyes to Levi who took off his military jacket and handed it to you.

« Here, put it over your head, it will muffle the sound »

Out of surprise, and still a bit shocked from your tourment, you mechanically took his jacket and covered your head with it, pressing the fabric over your ears as the sky screamed again. It was working, you felt as if you were underwater, you still heard everything, but it sounded so far that you felt somewhat safe, only then did you realize that Levi did what he did.

He didn’t threw an insult at you telling you to get your act together

Instead, he silently offered some comfort, acknowledging your fear,

Validating your fear.

The hellish concert went on for three minutes. Three long minutes during which the sky threw a tantrum with unrealistic vibrations rippling through the air, as a shrieking wind joined in the outburst.

A lot of things happened during those three minutes, Levi coming to sit next to you on the ground, waiting for the storm to pass, and you getting intoxicated by the scent of the inside of his jacket, Levi’s jacket. This is what Levi smells like. You thought.

You were glad your face was covered as you felt it flush. Sure there was a faint note of sweat, but hey, you were soldiers, and soldiers sweat. But you could also recognize different other scents all converging into something you found extremely pleasing, almost soothing to you; a bit musk and something that resembled a type argan oil, you inhaled in silence, taking it all in shamefully. The feeling of being almost afloat under his jacket, the storm seemingly far away, as if you were cut from reality, only being able to breathe Levi's scent, the thought of him soon consumed you, leaving you feeling light-headed.

It was the closest you had been to Levi, since all these years, working together from afar; since you saw him for the first time when he proved to be everything but someone coming from the underground, both in manners and values, since the time you used to watch him ruffle Isabel Magnolia’s hair and feel that ache in your heart that grew more and more hungry.

When you watched him giving the hardest time to the young recruits

When you watched how loyal he was to Erwin, always present by his side watching over their mentees.

When you watched him from a distance, putting his horses in their stables, and staying a little longer to care about them and give them small gestures of affection

When you watched him sitting alone, by himself sipping his tea, holding his cup in his strange little way.

When you watched him accidentally sleep in the stable, on a bench, on a chair, so many times, while hesitant-and scared- subordinates would shake him shyly to wake him up.

When you watched him, from this cabin.

You liked climbing up this cabin, it was quiet, calm, but mostly, you could watch Levi all day long without him even realizing it.

You liked the cabin because watching Levi from a distance was calming to you.

You liked this cabin because observing Levi put your mind at ease.

When you found him up here, you turned heels as quickly as your heart started thumping on your chest, ready to live right away. You knew, soon enough that it wasn’t mere admiration for a comrade, it was more than that. Observing him from this cabin, you realized you wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder and tell him to go rest, the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to touch him, to feel him. There was so many things you wanted to tell him. Thank you for doing so much, you’re killing yourself go have some rest, thank you for bearing the weight of shielding humanity against its terrors, thank you for devoting your life, please take better care of yourself, we need you, we love.

I love you

Just know you have someone who cares so much for you.

Who wants to be by your side.

So badly.

But never did you approach him enough to have this much of him. Sure, you had your exchange of words and your eyes met on more than one occasion, but it was all wrapped in formalities, it didn’t feel human enough.

This

This feels human,

Him handing you his jacket felt human

You crumbling in front of him in all your pathetic glory was also human.

Now all you could think about or feel was Levi, you chewed on your feelings while trying to imprint in your head the only thing you got from him, this memory.

You suddenly felt a forceful tug, his hand was trying to move the jacket, you released your grip as soon as you realized that he wanted to take it off of you. The thunder had stopped for good, there was no roaring, no blasting echoes anymore. Just the quiet sound of the rain now. You loosened up, stretching your legs in a timid relief, your body trying to adjust to the now foreign calmness.

The captain didn’t say a word, and you stayed quiet as well.

The rain was quietly softening and the air was seemingly less cold, you realized your body had stopped shivering at all.

« I’m so embarrassed you had to see me like this Captain» you confessed broking the silence.

« Don’t be. Every fear has its reasons, even irrational ones »

You really thought humanity’s strongest would be repulsed by such a sight, he required people to be always strong or so you thought, but come to think of it, he always acknowledged human unescapable states like fear, regrets and sorrow., especially when those were almost inevitable on a battlefield. You never seen him dismiss any of those emotions when he witnessed comrades and soldiers experiencing them, even outside off the field.

« Do you...have any fears Levi ? »

You called him by his name, your question had a personal undertone to it that it required you to, or so you thought. And you couldn’t believe you actually had the courage to ask the strongest soldier alive if he feared anything.

« Regrets »

You turned to look at him, he was looking down at his jacket, his white shirt slightly wet from the rain it caught, you felt a little guilty witnessing that. You didn’t have a clue what was on his mind right now, but saying that, Levi was thinking about all the soldiers he lost under his commands, his two only companions he lost because of the choices he made, everything he lost, everything he couldn’t get back and everything he have regretted but decided not to, because he feared that if he’d let those regrets slip into the crevices of his mind, he’d never recover from it.

« I think it has been fairly gossiped about, but i lost my two truest and most loyal companions, i let them choose for themselves even though i wasn’t confident with that decision, it ended up horribly, but it was also my choice. It was my first time outside these walls, and also the last time i saw them alive. I feared regretting all of it, i feared the disappointment with myself was going to swallow me whole, but someone...someone who refused to succumb to their demons taught me once how dangerous it is to surrender to regrets, they can make everything loose its meaning in a blink of an eye. I used to fear sleeping on an empty stomach, i used to fear that stealing and killing would be my only reason to live. Now i fear everyday for my soldiers life, but what i fear the most is the regrets i could have, if you let them overpower you, they can make you believe that everything amounts to nothing.

Putting his palms on the wooden wall behind him, Levi pushed himself up, putting his jacket on, arms sliding slowly into the sleeves you were protecting your ears with just minutes ago.

« That’s why i make the choice, every waking day, not to regret any of my actions »

« So you don’t see me as a weak person ? »

« You killed forty human-eating monsters all by yourself, i don’t call that weak. As long as there is no thunder while you’re killing them i think we’re good »

You chuckled a little, your face already a bit brighter.

« It already happened Captain, and i did just fine, seems like it doesn’t affect me when i’m concentrating on something bigger and more frightening »

He was already heading for the door, your eyes following the black and white wings on the back of his jacket, he stopped just before going down the stairs.

« I’ll see you tomorrow at Erwin’s office for some paperwork regarding your new responsibilities »

You watched his figure disappear like it from your view like it always does, even though you were just been announced you’re gonna be working while being even closer to the threat now, you never felt happier. Yes you will be closer to the danger, but you will also be closer to Levi, hoping you could watch over him and maybe just maybe protect him as a token of your love. Be it from your admiration or your strong feelings, you knew your devotion to him had no boundaries. He wasn’t only humanity’s strongest in spilling blood and cutting flesh, he was also humanity's strongest for having a heart equally as great as his strength, but the world had yet to give him credit for that.

Listening to the creaking of the stairs as he went down, you couldn't help but remember when you found him in the cabin, staring at the sky. “And i’m ruining the view for you” ? He asked

You aren’t ruining the view

You are the view »

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galadhremmin · 3 years

Text

The Gardener

It is night when a small caravel drifts quietly into the port of Andúnië, somewhat outside of the trading season.

Its design is unremarkable, though thoroughly odd; no swan-prow adorns this Western ship, though it shines with the dust of gems as ships of such provenance are prone to do. Instead something like the natural shape of the tree the ship once was stretches its branches in the place of a figurehead, its leafless arms reaching for the Eastern sky. There is no sound of singing on this ship, though the Eldar are the only ones to come from the far West as this one has done, drifting in from the open ocean-- usually announcing their presence with their strong merry voices all the while.

No, this ship is silent, almost ghostly; and between its long branches the masts of every ship look again like the forest they once were. Seabirds settle on its masts, but keep conspiratorial silence.

The sole occupant emerges from the hull not too long after. Wrapped in a grey cloak, she cradles something to her breast as tenderly as a babe, and swaddled just the same. She walks down the plank into the harbor with careful steps, unquestioned yet; there are no armed guards here this early in the history of the island, not here, not to stand guard against the West. And so slips away untroubled, then avoids the paved stones and walks roads that are not quite roads, deep tracks in the white sand until it turns to mud. Eastwards, unshod; the traveler seems hardly to notice. She is physical and not, at some odds the the universe still, or simply not at ease with it. Something about this land feels not quite right, its roots pulled from the deepest Seas, still murmuring of waves beneath the earth. The traveler was used to densely woven foliage, when she last lived, with roots that knew no Sun.

There is nothing comparable in this too-open country even where trees grow, still bearing the imprint of the Powers. The land itself they shaped into a lopsided crest of Eärendil, that strange unnatural star. It blinks against the dark with cruel familiarity. A light seen around the neck of the one loved by all, then borne by her own love. The Nauglamír an anchor, tightening like a noose; a relic of one who left forever, its light at last muffled in the hurried swaddling of a child she had known she would not see again, not while she lived.

When the Sun rises the traveler dreams beneath a tarpaulin, hidden beneath some trees. There is no need at all, but there are many things to remember, and the traveler has never grown quite fond of the Sun. Even in a life in orbit of a star they had lived mostly beneath the Earth, and the Silmaril had seemed, sometimes, could only be observed only from afar-- those it did not burn to touch it hardly ever blinded, near yet far at the same time, like a fragment from another world. She supposes that is how he bears it on his brow, the man up in the sky who married her winged daughter.

It is night again when she enters the city at last, and she supposes there is no evading it now. Her hands are cramped beneath her cloak, though her arms are strong as they have always been. The roots curl around her fingers.

“Lady,” a voice says in Quenya; and even now she cringes at it still, though the lilt is not at all the same, has something of Eressëa in it. “Lady, why have you come to these gates? The guest-houses are in the Eastern quarter, and reputable merchants are asleep or somewhere drinking. Unless it is our King you wish to see, and this is not his audience hour.”

The guard steps out of the shadows, then another. They regard her with friendly suspicion; the Eldar are trusted still, and nothing about the Reborn easily conceals their nature.

“It is the King I wish to see,” she says, surprised there is no more tremble to her voice. She sounds like the Queen she once was and never will be again. A messenger is quickly dispatched; the King agrees to see her despite the hour. He is a traveler himself, always eager for anything new.

They lead her into a green courtyard, along many high arched openings. The way they build here is strange to her, with its many open windows to let in the Sun from every direction. Marble lines the floors that pass beneath her bare feet, inlaid with many colours. There is nothing of Menegroth in it, not even its memory. Not even an attempt at its memory, no matter how distorted. No, it is of Gondolin she thinks now, seeing these walls. The stories told of Golodh grandeur, the cold white mountain city loved too well. Some part of her is grateful to be spared the sting of almost, even while it grieves for the lack of familiarity.

When she faces Aldarion at last he is nothing like she expected.

Lúthien, they said, haunts her line through her likeliness, and the dark-haired twins she never saw sound so much like Dior she has been afraid to meet them. He is lost to her like his mother was, a separation unlike all others, beyond anything Miriel or Finwë ever knew. The most beautiful man in Beleriand they had called him at court, and a Man he had been, though age never left its trace on him. No, a sword had carved deeper lines before it. And so far he had failed to sing his way back into her world, perhaps only because his mother’s story was more beautiful through the impossibility of repeat, unique in all of history. The greater pattern, it seemed, often took precedence.

She blinks against the lamplight.

If Aldarion repeats anyone it is his star-bearing ancestor who sails the restless sky above every continent. She has briefly seen him a few times before he ascended into the high airs, unruly blond hair still shining with the light of the world, small and lively, nothing like grim Turgon. There is no objection to the strange hour, no questioning of her purpose; he looks at her with eyes full of curiosity, and invites for her to speak.

She finds it in herself to smile. The roots uncurl slowly from her fingers.

“I have come,” she begins, “to give your people a tree made in the image of Telperion, so that your people might remember the world that bloomed at night before the Sun. This sapling I grew myself from Celeborn in Eressëa. It will remember you in turn. As will I.”

He takes it from her with something like awe, though she can tell he is no forest dweller. There is something restless in him, like the Sea; utterly foreign. But when he cradles the sapling he suddenly looks at her from beneath his too-pale eyelashes, and it is almost too familiar, though still with hardly a trace of Dior. No, there is something of Thingol in it. Something perhaps of herself too, despite the strangeness (something of the pale twins she never saw again, can’t bear to think about, can only hope went safely with their father).

Her voice catches in her throat. “Nimloth.” she says. “call her Nimloth.”

“Nimloth,” he says quietly. “I will call her Nimloth. Should I call you the same?"

His voice is very cautious now, asking a question like holding ancient fabric too easily torn apart. But Nimloth is not so fragile, though memory is an unalterable burden. She suddenly ruffles the young King’s hair like she did her daughter’s, before they came.

“You may.”

The young blond King’s hair stands up to the side. He looks a bit dazed, surprised to have his hair ruffled by history, though a smile is starting to form. It reminds her of no one in particular.

“Lead on then, Nimloth, and let us plant your namesake while the stars are here to witness it.”

The tree blooms, for a time.

And if a lone gardener in a grey cloak sometimes comes out at night to water the white tree long centuries after, the guards know not to ask too many questions.

#nimloth #(both tree and woman)#tar-aldarion #numenor #idk fuck all about numenor i just had a nimloth (reborn) gives nimloth (tree) to tar aldarion fic in my drafts #is this canon compliant... maybe. does say the elves of tol eressea gave him the sapling #nimloth reborn can sail from there #silmarillion #my writing #aldarion #the white tree

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Evil Unmasked Part 4 AU (aka Vader visits Padmé’s tomb)

Darth Vader was, in a word, exhausted.

Truth be told, whatever slim patience he had had for the machinations of Palpatine’s propaganda machine and the role it had carved out for him was all but gone. He could no longer recall how many interviews he had been forced to play along with, how many holo captures he had had taken of his visage for Imperial distribution. He had figured Palpatine would use his compliance as a tool to promote the Empire as the righteous governmental installment, and himself as the rightful Emperor. Still, it was becoming both grating, and infuriating. Vader was relieved that the media circus had, for now, been foiled and was beginning to die down. He had lost count of how many times he had been pinned down to denounce the Jedi order and explain why he had turned against them, as well as why he had changed his name.

Eight months post the fall of the Republic, and the calamity of the aftermath had begun to settle into the new normalcy. Vader was no longer hounded by hoards of reporters, no longer approached solely to speak out for promotional purposes. This was his first break from the obligations of either hunting down and eliminating stray Jedi, or speaking out on Palpatine’s behalf to praise his leadership. As soon as the opportunity arose, he asked for (demanded) his first day off. Palpatine had given him a quizzical, mildly displeased look but allowed it with a disinterested hand wave. The location he’d chosen for his travel had been decided long in advance, constantly pushed to the back of his mind but never truly forgotten. Vader hadn’t been anywhere near the sector for years; the planet’s sunny skies, vast green fields of grass and tranquil environment seemingly welcoming him with open arms. The nature and its beautiful trappings knew nothing of his past, nothing of the dark deeds he had committed - nor of the fact that he had stolen one of its most favourite daughters away.

Naboo was a beautiful place, with its lush scenery and its vast crystal clear lakes. Even with the sombre intentions behind Vader’s visit in mind, he found it a refreshing and peaceful break from the insanity life had become. The serene, bedazzled home world of Emperor Palpatine was nothing short of a paradise. But it was also the home world of Vader’s beloved, lost Padmé.

That Palpatine could be the native son of such a stunning planet was irony in its highest form. Padmé was much more suited for the inviting greenery, and the richly bedazzled background most citizens of Naboo had enjoyed. The gungans, shut out from society and equality before the Separatist attack, seemed so far removed from the background Padmé and Palpatine were of. Padmé had been born a Naberrie - that in itself a prestige; elected Queen at fourteen, and then continuing to become the senator and ambassador of her birth planet. The planet’s inhabitants had adored her. They adored her valor, her beauty, and her compassion. Her childhood made such a stark contrast to Vader’s own. Padmé had been raised in harmony; with her own autonomy, with responsibilities, yes - but with the power to make lasting changes. With her inherited money and her stunning appearance, her heritage and her wit - Padmé had had all the trappings sufficient of making a just, good woman.

Vader had come from nothing, with no legacy, no father, and no autonomy. He had lived impoverished as a child slave barely scraping by, fearing either death by starvation or illness, or by extermination. Watto, as his master and owner, had threatened him into submission by reminding him of the chip in his neck; reminding him of that fact that would he revolt - both he and his mother were doomed. Padmé never had to fear for her parents’, or her sister’s lives. Not even when she was with child, was the terror of her dying in childbirth that occupied Vader’s mind every hour of every day, of any concern to her. She did not fear death, but then she had never been faced death as Vader had. Perhaps, if she too had been raised on a desert planet, no more than an item to be exploited, with only her mother as a guide and confidant would she have understood his plight. Maybe if she, too, had lost her parents and failed in her valiant effort to save them, would she have understood his fear of watching her fade away. In the end, as yet another cruel twist of fate; Vader himself had brought about her demise. In the end, all he had was himself - and perhaps, that was for the better.

The tomb of senator Padmé Amidala was a vast monument in and of itself, but at the same time surprisingly sparse on decor. Padmé had never been a woman of simplicity when it came to appearance or presentation, but her final resting place was almost humble. Solid stone encased her now, protecting her withering bones from the harsh light of day. Now, as night reigned supreme and the stars peppering the skies provided the only light; Vader thought it a bleak and gloomy sight. He would have envisioned something more grandiose. The style was simple; cream coloured alabaster pillars supported a raised, arched roof. Vader traversed down a winding path or marble stairs, resolute in his resolve despite the unwanted guilt that was constantly nagging at the back of his mind and wearing him down. It made his skin crawl, and he stopped when he came face to face with the single ornament guarding his wife’s grave. Beneath the arched ceiling, a monument had been erected in her honour. Large, lifelike and meticulously detailed; it too was cut from sandstone and alabaster. It was a magnificent statue, portraying Padmé as she had appeared in life during her years as Queen and regent of Naboo. Its face seemed to peer down at Vader, as if to condemn him for trespassing. As if to demean him for daring to disturb her eternal peace.

Ignoring the judgmental stare he could not shake, Vader hurriedly brushed past the statue. With one wave of his hand, he let the Force gently guide the heavy stone door blocking the entrance to the mausoleum portion of the monument aside. Inky darkness pooled inside the small crypt, the starlight barely spilling past the threshold. A cold breeze seemed to emerge from within, both as a plea asking him to leave; and a lull, begging him to enter. Vader shut his eyes for a moment, allowing bith the crisp chill of the night and the stuffy air from within the tomb to wash over him. The breeze ran through his hair, and for a second, he recalled the gentle touch of his wife’s slender fingers combing through the unruly curls. He remembered her soft skin, her plush lips. Opening his eyes, he knew what he must do. He held no fear of the dead, and he was convinced that Padmé’s ghost would not be enraged by his visit.

But neither would she be pleased. Vader imagined she may weep if she could see him now.

Not surprisingly, Vader had found himself unable to attend Padmé's funeral wake. He had watched the holo screen broadcast of the procession in real time, as it was distributed to the public grieving an icon lost. The ceremony itself had been lavish; Queen Apailana dressed in the regal mourning attire. Emperor Palpatine had made it more than clear that there was no way for Vader to be present without drawing unwanted attention by his pre-Empire affiliation with Padmé as - what the public thought to be - a very close friend. Indeed, his absence may have been even odder but in hindsight Vader couldn’t have changed his lot had he tried to. And he had tried, to no avail. At the same time, it hadn’t stung as much to give into his master's wishes - knowing it was his fault Padmé would breathe no more. He had killed her. Part of him thought then, as did he now, that he hadn’t deserved showing his face in such a sacred rite. She was so far above him, and he was so far beneath her.

She was an Angel, and he was her murderer.

Entering the crypt with trepidation and reverence, Vader paused in the doorway. He had to duck to fit through the narrow entrance; the additional height of his new cybernetic legs was still cumbersome, and he hadn’t quite gotten used to the equally freshly fashioned prosthetic arms either with their larger hands and longer forearms. It was just a matter of time, really, but Vader felt it to be an unwelcome hindrance. He had been promised unlimited power by his master, instead he had been maimed and left for dead by Kenobi - and he alone bore the blame for Padmé’s demise. Padmé, whose remains were just within his reach. Padmé, whose spirit must surely despise him now. As he traversed with a solemn unease farther into the cavern; Vader became aware of two things.

First was the stone coffin holding his beloved’s lifeless body. Its lid was adorned by yet another skilfully crafted sculpture; this time a likeness of Padmé’s visage as she had been presented during her funeral wake. Her hair had been loose and wavy as she was paraded through the streets, decorated only with tiny, brittle flowers. Clad in a flowing blue gown, hands clasped over her swollen belly; face so lifelike she had seemed to be merely asleep. As Vader had made himself watch the painful holoscreening - witnessing his beloved one last time from afar - he had entertained the notion that if he’d only been present, he could have kissed her cold lips and she would have woken up. So many fairytales spoke of true love’s kiss, and of it raising a seemingly dead lover from their eternal slumber. Vader’s last kiss shared with his wife had proved to be the kiss of death. This blatant mimicry of Padmé’s visage - a far cry of her beauty - had been expected.

What Vader had not expected was the glass showcase propped by the coffin's side. Upon an indigo satin pillow rested Padmé’s japor snippet. Slightly faded with wear and tear, wooden and as intricately hand carved as the day he had given it to her. It had been granted its own separate display, and Vader scoffed at the notion that any of Padmé’s many handmaidens or realtives would have understood but a sliver of its importance to her - and, subsequently, to him. Still, it had been singled out as a token, and it had been clear even to those not in the know that the simple jewelry had been cherished by its owner.

Swallowing hard, Vader slowly approached the small cased necklace. Even in the dull darkness, his iridescent golden eyes helped him focus on the tiny trinket. A mixture of shame and bitterness welled up inside as his gaze took in every painstakingly crafted detail, and for just a moment - his serious expression softened. Gone were the harsh lines, gone was the composed and well rehearsed authority he had adapted since his shift. For that brief moment, Vader’s chest felt tight and a strangled, choked breath escaped his parted lips.

Anger was quick to overthrow the suffocating sadness. Pursing his lips, Vader forced himself to turn away. Instead, his eyes fell again upon Padmé’s stone grave. He didn’t deserve to be here, he didn’t deserve this attempt at paying her respect with meaningless, silent apologies. He had put her in that coffin, he had snuffed out her light. As if moving of their own volition, he found his legs were carrying him closer to the cold marble against his will. One gloved hand reached out to hesitantly touch the surface, but all Vader's cybernetic fingertips could detect was hard edges. Nothing concrete, no nuance. Vader was bereft of something as simple as the smooth, cool kiss of masterly crafted sandstone. The soft curves and gentle lines came off as no more intricate than the billions of grains that made up the sands of Tatooine.

Clenching his jaw shut, Vader's hand curled into a tight fist. It shook as he squeezed it shut; Padmé’s desperate, pleading hazel eyes flashing before his inner vision. She’d been so frail, so distraught, so horrified. She had never betrayed him, he had betrayed her. This was all his fault.

Padmé was dead because of him. Only him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Vader wished for nothing but to be offered the chance to retrace his step and right his wrongs. He wished to relive the moment in which he had lashed out, if only to forgive her and believe her words. If only to take her in his arms, to heed her warnings and run far away. Just him, her, and their child. Together. The child that had perished alongside his mother, never allowed to get to know her tender soul.

An unyielding, intense burn spread like a wildfire up the bridge of Vader's nose, and bled into his cheeks. A stinging prickle settled behind his eyes, and despite his stubborn attempt at remaining calm and detached, dismissing his pain - scalding tears welled up to pool at the corners of his eyes. In one fell swoop, they disregarded his wishes and rolled in heavy globs down his pale cheeks. Vader allowed his anger and his despair to mingle with his guilt. In an act of rare surrender, he let his walls crumble to dust and acknowledged that he had made a terrible mistake. He had allowed Palpatine to twist his mind, to entice him with empty promises. But it was he who had believed those lies; he had been the one to choke his own wife in blind rage.

Covering his face with his free hand, Vader did his best to restrain his grief in a feeble attempt at maintaining dignity. Biting back sobs, he wept silently - shedding the final pieces of his past with each tear. A burden that was his alone to carry, but its weight slightly lighter to bear despite the dull ache it left behind.

When he eventually vacated the tomb; daylight had begun to spill over the fields and hills, its orange glow warming the dew lining every straw of grass and creating a thin veil of mist. The air was sweet, its scent a jumble of flowers. No trace of his secret visit did Vader leave behind, but something inside of him had changed irreparably. Something had been left behind, laid to rest alongside the lost Queen.

If he could destroy the one thing he had loved more than life itself, what mattered any other life on his conscience. If his Angel was dead, Vader was already cursed. Whoever stood in his way was but a stepping stone on his way towarda greatness.

Every citizen in the Galaxy was but an animal - and he would slaughter them as animals, if need be.

*****

I wanted to write something sad, and I figured since this iteration of Vader is quite different to the canon one - this would be yet another way for him to shed his past, and to become even more of a propaganda and political tool. Also, I felt like writing something sad and angsty and I seldom write about Padmé, so consider this a little treat for those of you who - much like I - enjoy sadness and pain.

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582/chapters/79632736

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dracosaurusrex · 4 years

Text

Notebook - Draco Malfoy x reader

Here’s Part 2!

Summary: In which admiration takes the form of notebooks, handwriting, and smiles

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: I caved into an attempt to write this after reading so many fanfics haha. That being said, this is my first fic. Tbh, I’m not exactly satisfied, but I hope it brings you joy anyway. Feedback is very much appreciated! Thank you!

Draco Malfoy was known for many things. To the vast majority, it was his menacing behavior, characterized by his high pride and brash comments. You were aware of this. You even witnessed him in action when he and Harry would clash. Did you approve of it? Definitely not. However, you also took notice of small moments where slivers of kindness were shown by the platinum-haired boy, and for a short instance you saw a warm heart behind his notorious reputation. Because of that, you couldn’t help but reserve a soft spot for him in your heart.

With the exception of being paired for several assignments in the classes you shared, you weren’t particularly close to Draco. This, however, didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar. It was a known fact that he was one of the most attractive guys in Hogwarts. Despite his questionable personality, he actually had quite the number of admirers. How could he not? His chiseled features were emphasized by his alluring eyes and a handsome smile to match. You would consider yourself lucky to be present whenever a rare laugh left his lips. It made your heart skip as you catch yourself smiling privately in response.

This was the case for potions today: Crabbe had mixed up several of his ingredients, resulting in the concoction exploding in front of him. No injuries occurred, but the incident drew attention to him as a thick layer of soot covered his shocked expression. After a pause, you turned at the sound of Draco and Blaise releasing a laugh as the rest of the class followed. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud yourself once the situation had registered completely. Your gaze, which was initially focused on Crabbe shifted to the blonde boy behind him. Your eyes locked. He stopped laughing, but his smile remained plastered on his face as he kept his sight focused on you. The class eventually calmed down, but you felt your heart beating rapidly against your chest as the connection lingered on for a few more seconds.

Your good friend, Hermoine, took notice of your dazed expression, and waved her hand in front of your face.

“Y/N! Earth to Y/N! Are you okay? What are you even looking at?” She turned her head so it was directed toward the same angle as yours. You snapped your head forward as you tried to hide the blush that spread across your cheeks.

“It’s nothing! Let’s get back to work, shall we?” You frantically said as you took her shoulders to turn her around. You didn’t want her to know about the feelings you had managed to keep well-hidden.

Your attention went back to completing the potion at hand, hoping that she didn’t catch on to your behavior. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the boy and the slight interaction you both shared.

‘It was nothing. That was insignificant.’

You were constantly reminding yourself to keep your emotions in control, oblivious to the fact that the sound of your own laughter and the sight of your sparkling eyes had tickled Draco’s heart as well.

The scene continued to rewind itself as you tried to carry on with your day. After your classes, you found yourself studying in a secluded part of the library, trying to refine your notes for potions. You could keep up with the class just fine, but it took you more effort to do so in contrast to your other subjects. At least it was interesting and challenging enough to make you enjoy it.

You were 20 minutes into your study and your mind was desperately trying to make sense of the text in front of you. Your senses became overloaded. Your knee bounced up and down, you began to twirl your quill in between your fingers, and your eyebrows furrowed in hopes that it would make your brain do a better job in processing the information. The feeling of frustration soon built up, and to add to that, you couldn’t seem to get Draco out of your head. Controlling your feelings had never been this difficult before.

Throwing the thought of him to the back of your mind proved futile, as you heard a chair screeching beside you.

“Too much tension in your face is going to give you wrinkles, Y/L/N.” Your eyes widened at the familiarity of the voice. When you looked up, you were met with platinum blonde and the scent of mint. Draco was smirking at you.

“Draco. Can I help you?” You spoke out, trying to sound annoyed while you allowed yourself to submerge your face into your hands. The beating in your chest was quickening just as it did in potions. ‘Why is he here?’ you thought to yourself.

He shrugged, “Probably not. Besides, I don’t think I’m the one who needs help.” His eyes scanned your workspace. Pieces of parchment were scattered everywhere, and your book was filled with make-shift tabs along with paragraphs decorated with desperate markings and annotations. It takes you a second to realize what he was talking about as you lifted your head to follow his line of sight.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “If you’re here to pick on me, right now is not the time.” You mentally slapped yourself as the words rolled with harshness out of your mouth. In your defense, you really were trying to make sense of everything. The conflict between your feelings and your studying was not helping you at all. You proceeded to cover your face with your hands again.

Suddenly, a green notebook was plopped on top of your scattered mess. You peeked in between your fingers to examine the object.

“I don’t care whether you use it or not. Just give it back before our next class.” You looked up to see him walk off, stunned that he gave you any attention at all.

Once he disappeared from your sight, you picked the notebook up gingerly, running your fingers across his name, which was debossed on the cover. Draco was also known to be exceptionally intelligent, only falling short of Hermione. This thought made your heart race even more all while the heat began to fill your senses again. You couldn’t help but feel relieved, happy, and intimidated all at the same time. ‘Oh great. I’m swooning again.’

Your features softened as your fingers traced its edges, keeping the thought of the owner in mind. ‘This is his notebook.’ You smiled as you mentally embedded the recent scenes into your memory. With a grateful heart, you began to flip through the pages. You were surprised with the neatness of his penmanship, even more so with how thorough and organized the information was. More relief overtook you as you came to the pages that had the content you were frustrated with. You began comparing the content in your textbook to the notes in front of you, finally making sense of the topic.

“Oh!!” You exclaimed in triumph, happily writing down your newfound understanding into your own notes. The feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment had replaced the frustration you felt earlier as you finished up your studying to head to dinner. As you packed up your belongings, you glanced at the green notebook before picking it up. Suddenly, an image of his focused expression filled your mind as you pictured him writing on the surface of the paper. You envisioned his piercing silver eyes and slightly furrowed brows, accompanied by slightly parted lips. His perfect posture, you pictured, was emphasized by the sleekness of the familiar black suit. His fingers were slender, wrapping themselves delicately around a quill. You silently thanked his mother for giving birth to the work of art that is him. Another blush rushes in and thoughts of Draco started to invade your mind again, but this time you happily granted permission for them to engulf you. With another smile, you placed his notebook in your bag.

Once you were gone, Draco came out from one of the shelves, closing the book he was using to hide his face. He glanced at your retreating figure then turned his gaze back to the table you were sitting at. He took a seat and placed his hand against his chest, feeling himself fall for you more as he recalled the loving expression that was plastered on your face when you caressed the notebook. He couldn’t wait for the next time you had potions.

Part 2

A/N: I originally had 3/4 of the fic written out, but after reading it, I just wasn’t satisfied with the way things were going. I felt that this was a nice stop for now, so that I can think of something more...sufficient for the vibe. Thanks for reading! Once again, feedback is very much appreciated! <3

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #slytherin #slytherin imagines #gryffindor #gryffindor imagines #hogwarts #hogwarts imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

[steve. breeding kink. baby.]

“Wanna know what makes it worse?” Steve leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent with your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

in which you’re playing with a baby and steve can’t resist himself. (includes steve’s pov, avenger!steve rogers x girlfriend!reader, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, mild daddy kink, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Procedure requires debriefing at the end of every mission. In this hours-long process, an agent must recap the objectives and the means used to achieve them; deviations to the original plan and why; as well as whether success was gained, and any other pertinent intel possibly acquired.

This routine is mandatory for all those working for and with an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D.; not even the Avengers are exempt from this. Except in this particular case where the titular first of the super-powered team has forgone the professional necessity, and instead, is in search of you.

Normally, America’s golden boy can handle the dangers that occur in such a violent but imperative field. He understands the risks and pressures inherent to his line of duty, and he’s always accepted it, dealt with it because the overall outcome dwarfs the bad.

On this particular assignment, however, the stakes were higher than usual and although the quick snap-quick decisions he made ultimately paid off, it didn’t soften the blow of the sacrifices made. Times like this, he has to wonder if it’s worth it.

The tension weighs on his shoulders and crackles underneath his skin; his synapses are frayed with the memory of each fallen agent, the orders he doled out preambling every one, and the electricity curls his fists and locks his jaw. It’s corrupting that logical part of his brain, and that craving for vengeance can’t be sated with his knuckles breaking a few punching bags.

In rare moments like these, when the serum is pumping through his veins like rabies, there’s one thing to straighten the edges and bring him back from the trenches. That solace is you; your alluring smile and twinkling eyes, the musical carry of your laugh, your seemingly innate ability to figure out what’s wrong and quell the turmoil cycloning inside of him.

So he doesn’t report to Fury like he’s supposed to, doesn’t go over the myriad of errors that only worsened as the mission progressed—no one stops him either.

When employees spot him marching down the corridors, stealth suit still on and rippling across his hulking mass, his strides colliding deafeningly with the floor, handsome and affable features tightened intensely, their only recourse is moved out of the way. Thankfully, they get the hint because if someone hadn’t, he knows he’d snap and do something he might regret.

His senses, formerly haywire in his manic state, have lasered into tunnel focus; his eardrums hone in on the specific sound wave of your crooning voice, and the olfactory nerves in his nostrils guide him in a trail to the source of your intoxicating essence.

Steve slams the door open and storms into the upper, restricted level of the headquarters. His hastened pace slows upon your increased dose, lulling his awareness and distance waning significantly. As his search nears its end, he recognizes where he’s at: the luxurious space designed by and created for Tony Stark.

The doors are open so he doesn’t waste time knocking (not that he possesses the patience to abide by his hundred year old manners). Upon entry, he’s taken the tranquility occupying the atmosphere and the sight of you bathed in the sun’s glow; bright rays beam through the impenetrable windowed wall of the tower while you gently rock the three month old baby perched on your shoulder, probably basking in the dual warmth of you and the star.

From afar, behind you, the brown-eyed girl’s mother stands. With her head tilted and soft gratefulness slanted into her lips, the strawberry blonde’s hip rests against the office’s wet bar and watches fondly as you effortlessly soothe her child’s fussiness into a thumb-sucking slumber.

“Aren’t they cute?” Pepper Potts remarks as he steps beside her. Her gaze maintains on his girlfriend and her daughter. “Morgan would not stop crying for the past few hours, and I did everything to calm her down. I was frazzled and at my wit’s end then I handed her off to her aunt, and now she’s as quiet as a mouse.” She pauses and spares a glance over to his adoration-fixed stare, a slyness twisting into her smile. “I don't know what stage you two are at but she’d make a great mom.”

Steve knows you occasionally babysit for the Starks, but he’s never seen you like this. You’re in your element, swaying back and forth while you hum inaudibly into the infamous delicate baby’s ear. Her small hands are curled around your neck and her face nuzzled into the crease of your shoulder, with the opposing thumb slid between her lips as her big chocolate eyes flutter into a peaceful rest.

Suddenly breathless—but it’s not from the exertion—he has to agree, nodding his head. “Y - yeah,” he answers to both statements because it’s fucking adorable, and while there’s never been a doubt about your caring nature, this cements the fact that you would be an amazing mother. The sensation boils in his gut, and his fingers twitch at his sides. “Has she always been this good with her?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pepper tells him matter-of-factly. “With her, other kids, too. She came with us to the park, and this one kid was screaming his head off and she just went over and poof! He was happy.” Her eyes are back on your slow pacing silhouette. “I would swear she was made for this. I bet she was a nanny in another life.”

His knuckles clench as her words ignite the simmering inferno of his being. Made for this, made for this, echoes in his head and he has to remind himself that he’s in public. But the primal image of you, radiating like an angel with a little piece of him growing inside you, has already carved itself in the forefront of his psyche.

Steve has never been into traditional gender roles, not even when he was in his time and it was the norm (he’s always been a very progressive thinker). But, God, he can’t deny the appeal now that he has you. There’s something so primally satisfying about having you at home, free of any worries that aren’t about your family, potentially—preferably—knocked up.

The carnal urge grips him more intensely than before. Usually, he can suppress that visceral desire to bury himself bare inside you and spill his virility until he further claims you as his. However, receiving a glimpse of you in this maternal state, it has every instinct screaming that you’re irrefutably perfect and primed.

As if on cue, you turn around with the effectively lullabied infant clinging around your neck. After a flicker of surprise, pleasant then concerned, you pad on over to carefully hand over Morgan to her thankful mother. Your attention rivets back to him with a knitted brow gaze.

“Babe, hey,” you greet in a gentle voice. Worry ebbs into your gaze amongst the usual stare of attraction upon dragging across the navy blue material that still clings to his muscular torso. You offer your hand, which he immediately takes, and you guide him out of the office into the hallway. The door shuts behind you, and the sectioned off level is empty, but your voice is still quiet when asking, “What happened?”

You stand barely a breath away, and the proximity pacifies his senses. His stance loosens while a smile upturns a corner of his mouth. “Nothing,” he answers then clarifies, “Nothing that matters anymore, anyway.”

The amendment dwindles your concerned curiosity because it’s honest—he doesn’t need to dwell when you’re standing here—and you can hear it; another lovingly scrutinizing up-and-down glance confirms that his earlier disquietude has settled significantly.

“D’you have fun back there?” he goes onto wonder, eyes flickering over to the closed door. Your earlier titillatingly visage snaps into his brain, and he subconsciously bites down on his bottom lip. “You looked like you were.”

You accept his subject-change with a nonchalant shrug. “Babies like me, and I like them,” you tell him, smiling at the admission. “What can I say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that you want me to knock you up.” The words fumble out of his mouth before he thinks about it, and while he hadn’t intended on letting it slip, if he did, it would’ve been without the serious fluctuation he blurted it out with.

In a lame attempt to correct his slip of the tongue regarding a topic you both rarely discussed, he quickly adds, “I’m joking.” A surprised expression had crossed your features upon processing his former response, transitioning into something he can’t yet pinpoint if he likes. As if to test the waters—or dig himself into a deeper hole—he says, matter-of-factly, borderline suggestive, “But you know, back in my day, you’d probably already have a few popped out by now.”

“Mr. Rogers!” you gasp in an almost-shocked tone, but your cheeks split with a devious grin. “Are you telling me you want to be a daddy?”

Disheveled by his mission, then upended by your placating presence, he’s more awkward than the day he met you. “Fuck. Look, I’d never pressure you, okay?” For the millionth time, the previous scene plays mentally; he exhales heavily. “It’s just you with her, and I. . . never mind.” He shakes his head, deciding he’s still on the edge from both events today, and dismisses his animalistic inkling. “Act like I didn’t say anything.”

You fold your arms and nod.

“Uh-huh, daddy,” you drawl, scintillating in mischievousness that simultaneously has his heart skipping a beat and his cock jumping. Your smirk widens before disappearing beneath a cascade of feigned innocence. “We can just act like you don’t want me to have your kid.”

His lips part at your teasing twist of his words. “That’s - that’s not what I said.”

“Isn’t it?” You lift a brow. “It is. So, maybe I should find a guy who does. I think any other man would take immense pleasure in going condomless inside of me.” One hand wiggles into your jacket pocket while you peddle away from his orbit; a rectangular plastic ruffles as his reflexes instinctively catch it. “You know, I think Bucky would really appreciate me. I bet he’d have the manners to really wife me up and make me—“

He knows you’re poking fun of him; playfulness alight within your gaze that he usually enjoys. In actuality, he understands there’s zero truth in your jesting and he’d be more amused than jealous. However, currently, the circumstances have corrupted his sensibilities.

“That’s not funny.”

Your laugh echoes musically. “It’s not ‘cause it isn’t a joke,” you say between your giggles, your amusement pardoning your spacial awareness. “I mean—Steve!” Your yelp is louder and even more musical when he surges forth and reigns you in.

Air expels from your chest as his body cages yours against the wall. Using one hand to brace himself above you, his opposing appendage tilts your dazed blinking up. “Now do you really think I don’t want you to carry my kid?” he rumbles. “Because if it were up to me, I would’ve taken claim to your womb the second I saw you.”

Your breathing hitches, and you try to remain unaffected but he’s too keen on your reactions to be fooled. “O - oh?”

“Yeah.” His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Wanna know what makes it worse?” He leans in and trails his nose along the inviting curve of your shoulder and neck until his lips are adjacent to your ear. “My sense of smell, it tells me when your body is just ripe for the taking. It’s like you’re fucking calling me every single month—begging me to put your little pussy out of your misery. . . fuck and fuck until you’re milkin’ my kid right outta me.”

A sound, hybrid between a moan and a gasp, escapes your throat; humor eviscerated, desire exudes from you and submerges his senses in a provoking intoxication. The rush sinks into his brain and triggers that visceral frenzy within him but he has no interest in suppressing it anymore.

He releases a guttural groan and grabs your hips. His big hands splay on either side, thumb slightly kneading back and forth, and he draws you in closer. “I can smell you right now, too. Not only how wet you’re gettin’ but that it’s that time for you, isn’t it?” he purrs and nips at your lobe. “You’re mine for the taking.” His teeth catch your pulse, sucking a mark onto the vulnerable skin. “Hm, baby?”

“Y - yes!” you moan wantonly loud as your weight sags into his embrace. “Always.”

“Good—” His hands cinch on your flanks and abruptly hoist you up: prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms to encircle around his neck. “—cause holding back with you is gonna be impossible.”

With your body clutched around his abdomen, he heads for the closest empty room, scoped out via his enhanced hearing. Unceremoniously, he turns a handle and breaks the lock of the unused office space; two doors down from the main room, it’s smaller but it has a sturdy-looking desk in the center.

He kicks the door shut and sets you down as your lips find his. Although you’re sat down, legs dangling over the wooden edge, you keep your elbows hooked around the nape of his neck and coax a ragged groan out of his chest with the deft stroke of your tongue.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes and parts from you in order to yank your jacket down your shoulders. Tossing it off the side, he reveals a braless tank top and your nipples he can see have pebbled underneath. His imagination takes off once more, envisioning what the already perfect twins will look like in the wake of his seed taking root inside you.

His blood pumps viciously, flowing downward and flooding his cock to strain beneath the oppressive stealth-suit fabric. Like you’re reading his mind, you unhook the utility belt and similarly shove it off somewhere on the side.

Something rustles, and it’s the condom you’d thrown at him. Absentmindedly tucked under the cinch of the belt previously, it falls into your undressing hands. Your eyes rivet up to him, lashes fluttering big, as you hold it between two fingers: halfway offering. “What are you gonna do, daddy?”

At that particular moment, it occurs to him that you’re doubting his seriousness. While abundantly clear you want this, you’re dubious on whether he’s going through it. Which is preposterous, but he figures that the look on your face when he spills inside you bareback will only further his orgasm, consequently heightening the odds of his end-goal.

He plucks the packaging from of your grip, holds it up as your gazes clash and makes a show out of discarding it out of reach. Then he seizes your knees and slides your ass to the edge so your center is flushed against him, rocking into his hardened imprint.

“You,” he answers your query, tone a growl, as he peels your jeans off. He continues on just to shred your panties. “I’m doing you. With nothing to separate me from you, nothing to keep you from your rightful destiny: knocked up with our baby.”

“Please,” is all you utter, but the room’s thick with sensory evidence of your essence.

Spreading your thighs as far as possible, he glances down to spit lewdly on your glistening mound; a long dribble of saliva coating your eager button and slit. He uses his thumb to smear it all over, mixing with the puddle you’re creating, dipping into your sticky folds with his middle finger.

The whole time, you’re choking with these hungry and appreciative little noises. Likewise, you’re watching as he prepares you thoroughly and roughly to wring the cum out of him. “S - Steve,” you mewl coherently and buck into his messy caress. Your fingers are tugging pleading on the lower half of his uniform. “I need you. Please!”

It is about damn time.

His control has been witting away since the first time you called him daddy. He swiftly wrenches the suit down and exposes his leaking, throbbing cock to your tunnel of relief. His size always dwarfs your kempt triangle; an initial observation one might come to is the improbability he won’t fit. But he does, every single time, and in this special instance, he’s going to ensure all of his formidable length is buried in your fertile heat.

He rasps his tip over your clit, plastering his translucent white pre-cum over the engorged nub, then traces down the crease of your slit. As he prods in, his hands span your thighs and help open up your elastic entrance for his ravenous cock. He stretches your tightness slow but unyieldingly while you both watch with labored breathing, transfixed by the sight of your dripping core enveloping his veined and tanned angry stalk until he’s nudging your cervix.

“Good girl,” he grits out, strangled by the electricity prickling his nerves. He slips support underneath your ass, intertwining from the inner to the outer so when he hauls you up, your knees are bent over his elbows. “You ready to make me a daddy, baby?”

“Yes!” You nod quickly with a moan. “Shit, you’re big—and deep. Really fucking deep.”

He chuckles huskily because if you think that now, he can’t wait to see you once he’s truly plundered new depths. “Now, you just hold on tight and let me do all the work. I only want you to focus on givin’ me a baby, okay?”

In the middle of an abandoned office room—possibly a storage area—he heaves you up and drops you back down. Your arms curl around his neck, hands twisting into his suit, while he alters between gravity and his hips jutting forth to drill inside you.

Without any mind to those around you—just you and him—he fucks you with every ounce of strength coiled into his super-charged build. Ignoring the fact that door is unlocked, broken more specifically, and the possibility that there’s likely high quality surveillance cameras watching, your shared sounds of carnality fills the room in between the harsh collision of skin.

Each propelling thrust seems to jostle further than further, carving himself into your inner walls. Like he said before, he handles all the work, effortlessly bouncing your sporadically clenching channel with his inhuman strength and stamina; leaving you to accept and bask in the stimulation his cock is providing and the gift he’ll be depositing inside of you any time now.

Your lips are breathless in his ear, gasping, “Daddy, please,” that has him climbing the rope faster. The beg pours gasoline on an already roaring fire, igniting wildly to burn up his legs then his stomach and on its way to take him under.

“Y’gonna make me a daddy, baby? You’re gonna be a pretty lil’ mommy and take care of us? Is that what you want?” he croons, identifying the way you tighten as your steadily approaching orgasm. “Y’gonna have your pretty pussy squeeze me until I’m shooting my load and knocking you up?”

He’s pretty sure your nails have punctured the suit’s resilient material. “S - Steve, fuck! Please. Yes! Cum inside me—cum inside me—“ you cry out with genuine desperation that his limbs tingling numbly. “I want it. I want you. Please. I wanna feel you!”

His jaw locks and works you somehow even harder. The room is completely engulfed with you, your arousal, the potency of your ovulation, and your future with him; once he releases, it’ll only seal the fact that you’re his and belong to him (as well as vice versa).

“Who’s gonna be a daddy, baby? Who are you making a daddy, baby?” His words are practically slurred while fever coalesces across his entirety. “Who owns your pretty little pussy and your womb?”

“You—Steve—daddy,” you sob as your orgasm seizes up around his cock, giving him no other choice other than to: “Cum inside me, daddy—!”

Something beastly rips out of his chest, and without protest, he gifts you exactly what you want. He burrows into the absolute hilt and fires inside you for what feels like forever. Spurts of ooze finally wane, nudging your fruitful cervix, but even then, he doesn’t dare retreat from your heavenly depths.

The aftershocks force him to set you back down on the desk, still buried and keeping you stuffed. His face nuzzles the junction between your neck and shoulder languorously, and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, walls periodically pulsating.

When he regains the energy, he straightens and pulls out of you until his bulbous head is blocking your entrance; he stops there because he realizes something. “It’s gonna leak, and as hot as that is, I need to keep you full, baby.” Abruptly, he hauls you up and shuffles the position so that he’s sitting on the desk, and you’re sitting on his cock.

Your sensitivity flares around him, and you squeal. “F - fuck!” But you adjust to comfortability, blinking at him. “For how long?”

A smile curls into his lips, and he strokes your cheek while his other hand lays on your belly. “For as long as it takes.”

[masterlist / feedback]

#steve rogers x you smut #steve rogers imagines #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers smut #marvel reader insert #marvel smut imagines #my writing #marvel imagines #my fics #mANY ERRORS

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clair-void-ance · 3 years

Text

Richard Hayden Fluff Alphabet

Pairing: Richard Hayden x Reader

Word Count: Roughly 3,180 words

Author’s note: Hey! This is definitely something I didn’t expect to write lmao. I haven’t been in a writing mood lately, but after getting into David Spade again I knew I had to throw something together. Good news though! That means that I’m finally motivated to work on my other WIP’s! So expect those requests to be finished soon :)) Your girl threw this together pretty fast ngl, so hopefully it doesn’t suck lmaoo

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

If there is anything that Richard loves to do, it’s activities that leans more on the physical side. As much as he loves academic pursuits, he can get tired of trying to maintain the persona of ‘the bookworm/nerd.’ When it comes to activities he enjoys doing with you, it really just depends on what type of person you are. If it’s physical, his go to activities include fixing up vintage cars, dancing, cycling, painting, and whatever else you enjoy doing. If it’s more mental, then he enjoys laying back, reading, doing crafts, or learning something new with you.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

If their is one thing that Richard admires about you physically, it’s your hair and eyes. Being a person interested in astrology, Richard knows that the eyes and hair can tell a lot about a person’s personality and self. And your’s show a person with a breathtaking personality.

And something that he really loves about you is your ability to be accepting, creative, passionate, and unabashedly yourself. You never failed to accept all parts of him, whether they were good or bad. And when you figured out the situation with this hair, you never once faltered on your love and acceptance for him. Which he appreciates more than you know.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Richard has definitely been at some low points in his life. Whether it be with his career, personality, or looks, he's been through it all. So if there's something be knows well, it's definitely a person in dire need of love and support.

When you're feeling down Richard focuses on the main thing you need at the moment. As much as he wants to listen and be supportive, he first has to deal with your body's needs. Having an anxiety attack? Do some breathing exercises, ground yourself, and take a bite of a lemon. Chest pain and irritable stomach from holding in all your negative emotions? Take a second to dance, cry, and release the negative thoughts. Then, when all that is said and done, he'll sit down with you and figure out the best way to solve your problems.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Being a small town, settle down type, Richard has always seen you two having a small wedding with all your loved ones followed by having a few children. Although he never really planned to find 'the one,' you turned his life around and showed him that he is good and secure enough to finally start living the life he always wanted. And now that he knows you'll love him forever (hair or no hair), he's confident in the quiet life you'll soon live.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or are they rather passive?

As much as he wants to be dominant and feel in control in the relationship, we all know his scrawny ass could never 😔. And we all know he would love to have someone dominate him. That being said, he loves the challenge that comes with both of you fighting for dominance. But he’s more than willing to calm down and allow you to take control more often than not.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How is their fighting?

Being the prick he is, especially with his mars in aries, it will definitely take Richard a while to calm down and discuss arguments with your. While fighting, he is vicious and acts like a wounded animal. None of it is really intentional, he just gets too heated too fast and gets caught up in his emotions. That, added to an inability to express his emotions properly at the moment he feels them, makes him a bit difficult in fights.

That being said, once he calms down and feels the guilt of his actions he immediately comes back to you and spews out an apology. If your fight was especially bad, he’ll end up setting up a nice dinner for both of you and let out a heartfelt apology. He loves you with everything he has in him, but he’s still dealing with processing and expressing a variety of feelings (plus he’s a man lmao).

G ratitude - How grateful are they they in general? Are they aware of what there s/o is doing for them?

With his string of luck and life choices, Richard is very grateful for all of the good things he has in his life; especially you. He understands first hand how fast life can turn sour, so he doesn’t take a second of his life for granted once he meets you.

He knows how much effort you’ve put into y’alls relationship and is aware of how much of impact you’ve had on his life and personality. And for everything that you do, he is deeply appreciative. And he tries to return that energy back to you 100% every day you two are together.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

After you figured out his secret about his hair, he knew that he could trust you with everything else. The only thing that he keeps to himself really are secrets that deal with surprises for you. Besides that, he shares relatively everything that concerns him.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

In a way, you both change different aspects of each other; while Richard makes you more sarcastic and ambitious, you make Richard more laid back and wholesome. But when you mix, there seems to be a harmonious balance of the perfect personality.

Furthermore, you help each other work through personal trauma and make sure that the other isn’t falling into a bought of negative emotions. That strengthens your relationship while also making you both better versions of yourself.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Being the sarcastic prick and insecure person he is, Richard is definitely someone who gets jealous easily. To him, you could have anyone you wanted; someone with hair, a better build, and definitely with a better personality. And when he sees you with a man that possess all of those things, he tends to get pretty jealous.

But he never takes that out on you. He knows that you would never cheat on him or avoid communicating your intentions. When a situation like this comes up, he usually takes a moment to contemplate his insecurities, stews in it for while, then brings it up to you. When that’s all said and done though, you both usually curl up and remind each other how much you both love and appreciate each other.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like? +

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Overall, Richard is actually a pretty decent kisser. He moves in just the right ways and knows how to avoid being excessive. Additionally, with the love that he puts behind every kiss, he makes you feel loved and appreciated with every languid motion.

The first kiss you two shared was after a company party when you took him home to watch a movie. You both got bored of waiting around and doing nothing at the party, so you left to do something more fun together. After sitting on the opposite ends of your couch, you both started to slowly inch closer and closer to each other. By the time you both started cuddling together, he felt as though the time was perfect to lean in and risk it all.

And when he gripped your chin, pulled you in, and placed a slow kiss to your lips, you both knew that you wanted to turn this official.

That being said, he still wanted your consent on if things would truly turn official or not. After letting out a whispered confession of love to you, you both thought it wise to discuss your newly developed relationship.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose?

Getting married is a definite for Richard. He doesn’t care what kind of wedding it is or when it happens, he just wants everybody to know that you’re his and that he’s yours.

Not one to be overly dramatic or public about an important moment, Richard proposes to you while you two are on a camping trip together in the mountains. You had both just woken up and began drinking your coffee on a log by one of the lookouts. With the rising sun hitting your eyes an hair in all the right points, he knew that he had to propose; it was the perfect moment. Not even his nerves could prevent him from doing it.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

With this man’s wit and sarcasm, he never fails to have new and creative nicknames for you. Usually though, your nicknames depend on the type of mood he’s feelilng.

Sarcastic? My sweet turtle dove. Affectionate? Sweetheart. Playful? Sugar/Angel Face.

It just depends :)

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When in love, Richard can act like a wistful and love-struck romantic. From afar, Richard can be seen sending you longing and affectionate looks. Furthermore, when you two are near each other, people pick up the way he always drifts really close to you and continuously reaches towards your hand.

While he has a tendency to act aloof and uncaring, Richard does make it a priority to tell you how much he loves you (as well as how radiant you look to him) at least twice a day. He never wants you to feel as though he doesn’t think you are anything less than deserving of all the love you can handle. Even if you two fight, he always puts aside his pride and remembers to tell you that he loves you.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

When it comes to PDA at the beginning of you two’s relationship, Richard wasn’t too much of a fan. He was still stuck in the mindset that he had a reputation to uphold; he couldn’t be seen being soft and mushy, he had to be suave and respectable. But as you guys’ relationship progresses he begins to appreciate showing you love no matter the situation.

If you were to ask one of his coworkers on how he’s changed since being with you, they would definitely point out the fact that he has softened up considerably. He doesn’t care too much about his ‘reputation’ as much since he only focuses on showing you affection during the moments where it fits. By the time you two create a well-rounded relationship, he begins to casually brag about you and how you are the most fantastic significant other anyone could meet. It gets a little annoying, but people find it endearing do a certain extent. (it’s still Richard we’re talking about here lmao)

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship

He understands astrology and a few other personalty based aspects of people, so he acknowledges all of your quirks down to a ‘T.’ He knows your communication style, love language, argument method, preferences, etc. just by a birth date and a few other factors.

That being said, he also knows what things are particularly difficult to you, which helps when you aren’t able to communicate how you’re feeling on most occasions. (He has yet to learn how to solve his own problems with this quirk though)

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Once Richard knows that you love and support him unconditionally, he becomes the sappiest, most romantic person you’ve ever met. Although he has his cliché moments, Richard is usually creative with his methods on making you happy or keeping your relationship interesting. Most of which have to do with the office where you two work *wink* *wink*

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Being a man of high ambition and deep respect, Richard would love to help you reach your goals; no matter how big they seem. Especially if you are the same way with him.

He knows how much success and respect can mean to a person, so he will do anything to help you achieve the things you want. One aspect that he likes most about you guys’ relationship, is that you both constantly work towards bettering each other. He believes that you were both meant for great things. And if you associate great things with living off-grid and become self-sustainable, then he’ll help you achieve that.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Richard appreciates a sense of routine in his life and relationship- especially when it comes to his well-being. But this is mainly linked to his underlying trauma from childhood and career. Not that he’ll ever admit this though, he’s got a reputation to maintain.

He’s never really been given the opportunity to feel free enough to be himself and act childish. It was always, ‘act too mature and professional’ or ‘be cold, distant, and ambitious.’ When you came along though, he finally felt secure enough to open up and be himself. Which, of course, led to trying new things in your relationship. He’s down to try anything if it makes you happy; cause when you’re happy, he’s happy.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Deep down, Richard is not the most empathetic person. He’s had to rely on himself for almost his entire life, so being able to read and cater to another person isn’t the easiest for him. Reading social cues on the other hand, is. That being said, his love for you runs deep and he’s willing to just about anything to make you happy. He’ll take notice of the little things you like and the gestures you’ve come to appreciate, and repeats those.

Additionally, he understands that you aren’t responsible for his healing. He knows that he is responsible for a huge majority of it, so he takes note of your empathetic nature and uses it to heal not only himself, but you as well.

When that’s all said and done, Richard comes to learn a lot about both of you and shocks all of his associates with how close you two have become over the years.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Richard values your relationship as much as he values air. Which definitely says something. The man doesn’t care that much about anything when it comes down to it (publicly that is), but he does care for you. And his is willing to quit his job, move across the globe, or do anything you wish just so that he can make you happy for even a second.

After he met you, nothing really mattered as much as you guys’ relationship. To him, those things were put on the back burner and wait. As Charles Aznavour sang, “Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears; And make them all my souvenirs; For where she goes I've got to be. The meaning of my life is she.”

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon

Richard has actually always wanted to have a child. Since he never had a father present in his life and repressed his inner child, he has always wanted to prove that he was better than his parents. That being said, he’d love to have a little girl over a son. Mainly because he knows she will bring out the softer side in him.

All in all, he just wants to nurture and care for a child that he knows will grow up to have a stunning personality and life.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

At heart, Richard is a man with a deep, passionate, and affectionate nature. He loves being close to you and enjoys laying back and spending some personal time together. He loves all sorts of kisses he receives from you. Whether they be short and sweet or long and languid, he loves them all.

When it comes to the long and languid ones though, he loves to do them while you’re cuddling together.

Is it because he knows it’ll lead to something more? Maybe....but he’ll never admit that.

Plus, sometimes he just like being held so he knows he’s cared for.

Y earning - How do they cope when they're missing their partner?

Let's be honest, Richard can become a bit of a prick when you're not around. Since you both work together, everyone notices the day's where you’re absent; cause his toxic energy goes through the roof. Although he isn't insufferable, he definitely reverts back to his sarcastic and aggressive method of communicating and acting. But he can't really help it; (his mars is in scorpio 🙄 jk jk lmao) he doesn't have someone around to treat him right y'know? When he's alone though, he tends to get a bit melancholic and revert to sitting around and waiting for you. It isn't his proudest moment in life, but he’s trying to get used to the fact that you might not always be there. With that in mind, he copes the best way he knows how: by occupying his mind. Which is usually by working on his cars or cycling.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?

Similar to his career and the things he aspires to do in life, you are something that Richard will go great lengths for. Although Richard knows when to quit, committing to a task is something that isn’t unfamiliar to him. He will work night and day to please you and keep you happy.

Need him to take the day off to help you with a task or take care of you? Done with no hesitation. Need more emotional support because of recent events? He’ll drop everything in seconds. To him, nothing is worth ruining the relationship you two have worked so hard for.

#x reader #tommy boy #richard hayden x reader #david spade #david spade x reader #richard hayden #richard tommy boy #richard hayden imagine #tommy boy x reader #tommy boy 1995 #tommy boy imagine #fanfic

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talas-starlight · 4 years

Text

Killing me softly - Sokka x reader

SUMMARY: Having only heard good things about Sokka, you always wanted to see how great he is for yourself. When you finally get the opportunity, you struggle to find him as funny as everyone said.

This is based off the song killing me softly by the fugees which you can listen to: here! or there is a version by zhavia: here!

I strongly suggest you listen to the song because I think the whole vibe you get from it will get you in the mindset for this (and hopefully distract you from how poorly this was executed AHAH)

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNINGS: angsty vibes. tried to have a hopeful ending but idk if it worked lol. poor writing skills.

A/N: ahA I really couldn’t get this idea out of my head so here we are! most certainly did not do this concept/ song fic justice to the way I imagined it but lol this shit low key hurted my feelings but also tried to turn it around? Idk I think this is okay?

KEY: words in-between dividers = lyrics MY MASTERLIST: here!

I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style And so I came to see him, to listen for a while And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes

You knew nothing and everything about him all at the same time. Hakoda allowed you to join them as they recruited people across the nations to prepare for invasion day. In doing so, you unknowingly signed a non-verbal contract to hear all the stories and jokes about his son, Sokka. Of course, he spoke highly of his daughter, but there was an unrelenting sense of pride and joy that came with hearing about him.

“You’ll really enjoy speaking with him y/n. He can take any dull or sad moment and turn it into something that will make you laugh beyond your years. He’s been through so much, but he’s become the warrior I knew he was always destined to be.”

It was impossible not to want to meet him. You wanted to hear the stories in the flesh as he became the light in the darkness of this war.

Yet when he finally boarded the ship with his friends after Ba Sing Se, that’s all he became, a story. As a mechanic and strategist, your time was booked to the brim, building upon the plans Sokka created himself. Somehow, you managed to have interactions with Katara and Toph, even Momo, but being in the same room as Sokka? Impossible. You weren’t avoiding him by any means, and neither was he, it just seemed that even when confined to the space of a ship your duties dragged both of you into different directions…. Until now.

Finally having time to relax as you finished reviewing a draft for one segment of the invasion, you made your way mess hall in a desperate search to consume any food you could get your hands on. Walking in, Toph perked up at feeling your presence when entering the room. Considering you were always busy when working on something and she was not too chatty, you got along well with minimal conversations and comfortable silence.

You grab a bowl, filling it to the brim with fresh soup and sat at their table across from her. Feeling content as you feel the soups warm and wholesome scent fill your senses, you glance around to see who else is sitting at the table. Eyes zeroing in on Sokka’s frame at the other end of the table, your breath instantly hitches. Suddenly your face feels as warm as your soup, and you want to kick yourself for letting yourself be so affected just by your incredibly short glance at him. Shifting your focus back to your soup you make the painfully obvious decision to focus all of your attention towards it, only listening to their interactions around you. You reminded yourself that you didn’t truly know him, only what everyone else has told you. You knew better than to let yourself become a total fool for the Watertribe boy without having any proper interactions with him. Hence, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at the edge of your seat in anticipation to see Sokka joke around and tell stories with your friends. After all, that is what you were told about from the moment you met his father.

Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time) Singing my life with his words (two times, two times) Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

The excitement quickly dissipated when he began to dive into this evenings’ jokes and anecdotes.

“Guys! You wouldn’t believe it!! I was exploring the ship after training today, and I found all of these Fire Nation scrolls about their art and folktales in one of the rooms, and let me tell you, it’s a load of shit!”

As everyone laughed, you momentarily stopped breathing. Your entire being began to fold into itself, terrified at the prospect of him taking all of the things you favoured about your childhood and rip them to pieces.

Katara attempted to see the light in his statement. “Come on Sokka it can’t be that bad! I mean even the Watertribe has some questionable stories, I remember even the one Gran Gran told was a bit-“

“No, Katara! This is by far soooo much suckier than those stories. Okay, so there’s this one about dragons right? What happens is that there’s this Dragon Emperor who becomes bound to a mortal’s body by a Dark Water Spirit. So obviously! I was expecting this super cool battle or revenge plot, but in the end, they turned it into this lame love story where the Dragon Emperor falls in love with a mortal who turns out to be the Dragon Empress!”

“Aw I think that’s sweet! I mean surely there would have been a battle with the Dark Water Spirit so it wouldn’t have been a total loss?”

“Ugh, Katara! You don’t get it! It's just… sooooo oogie! They shouldn’t have done that. It should have been a story about battle, and warriors! I mean come on, that’s all the Fire Nation is good for right? Destruction and battle. So why did they have to ruin that story like that with all of that lovey stuff?! It just seems like nothing good can ever come out of the Fire Nation.”

Taking another mouthful of the soup, you kept your face downward as everyone laughed at Sokka’s exclamation of hatred for the nation you grew up in. No one knew where you grew up there except Hakoda, and you liked it that way. In complete fairness to you, it wasn’t your entire identity since your mother was from the Earth Kingdom, and you only spent the first seven years of your life there. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less when he tore apart the only things you dearly loved as a child.

Toph sensing your discomfort as you didn’t join in their amusement, she swiftly diverted the conversation into a new direction. While you were grateful, the thought of being in his presence any longer made you want to cry. It clearly didn’t work either as he continued to joke around about the food and other small things he picked up about the nation throughout their journey. Silently finishing up, you didn’t say a word or even give a half-hearted smile as they all laughed. Placing your bowl in the sink, you headed straight to your room.

The actions made everyone at the table confused, yet no one spoke out about it. Afterall, no one really knew you personally, nor did they understand what caused you to cut your interaction with them so short. Sokka himself became particularly curious. Afterall just like you, he heard many great things about you from his father, admiring your kindness and work ethic from afar. So, to say he wasn’t hurt that you chose not to stay longer or even crack a genuine smile, would be a lie.

Making it to your room, you took out any piece of paper or a scroll you used for your plans and began to pour out your pain onto to pages until you passed out from exhaustion. Not caring what contents were on the other side, you allowed yourself to be unfiltered.

You knew Sokka didn’t mean any harm; everyone laughed. He became the light you oh so desired to witness for yourself. Deep down, you knew you would have laughed too if it weren’t for the fact that he took the few happy memories you had with your father and set it on fire. A fire that produced the light you wished to see… but it seemed it wasn’t in the right way you hoped for.

I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd I felt he'd found my letters and read each one out loud I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on

You sighed as you finally finished fixing the pipes in the lower decks of the ship, once again tired and done with today’s work, you went to the mess hall for a late dinner.

“Hey Hakoda, I finished the plumbing problem so no one on the second floor should have any troubles now.”

“Thanks, y/n! You really are such a valuable person in this team. You’re always making sure everything is up and running.”

“Of course! What would you do without me? After all, let’s not forget how I spend my free time with your invasion plans.” You joked.

Turning your back to him to scoop some food onto your plate, he spoke up from behind you. “Oh right! That reminds me, I mentioned your ideas to Sokka earlier, and he seemed to really like them! But Sokka being Sokka, he got so excited over them and asked so many questions I didn’t even know how to respond. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know he’s probably at your desk analysing all of your scrolls right now. That kid never seems to be able to contain his excitement.”

“Yeah, that’s oka-“abruptly, you dropped your plate as your brain processed the information. If he was looking at your plans, then that meant……

Not even giving the Watertribe chief another glace or end to your response, you ran. Taking the fastest route to your room, everything in your mind and your surroundings became blurred, and you became hyper-focused on the fact that Sokka probably found what you wrote about him. Desperately trying not to cry as you bumped into people in the hallways, you couldn’t think of anything worse to happen in this very moment. The very idea of him knowing how you felt about him as well as how his words affected you made you want to scream. Maybe if you got there in time, he wouldn’t have read enough to understand your feelings fully. But when you bust through your door, it was too late. Sokka stood near your desk, with all the scrolls you ever wrote on scattered around the room. Some lay on your bed, the floor, across the desk, and even one in his hands.

“M- my dad said that you had a lot of perfect ideas for the invasion. B- but I- I found… I never thought…” His eyes never met yours as he continued to read the current scroll in his hands.

You slowly approached him, not caring as you walked over every word you wrote on the floor. “Sokka…” You silently begged him to stop reading, unsure of its contents.

He kept reading clearly in shock at the words before him, “why didn’t you s-say something?”

You sighed, somewhat unsure of how to approach the situation. “It’s not my place –“

He threw the scroll to the ground, finally looking up at you with bloodshot eyes as tears streamed down his face. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S NOT YOUR PLACE Y/N! It is your place! You had… no, you HAVE every right to say something! You sat there that night as I picked away at every single thing you ever loved, and you didn’t say a thing! Why would you let me do that to you!” Sobs wracked his body, falling to his knees in front of you. Torn apart on the inside about how much he hurt you. He never wanted this to happen, not just because of his small crush on you- that didn’t matter at this very moment. The very idea that he hurt someone who was so kind and selfless as a person, ruined him.

Beginning to feel immensely guilty for his current state, you knelt down to his level. Placing your hands to his wrists, you gently moved his hands away from his face. “Sokka… hey, Sokka look at me…”

As he looked at you, you struggled to keep your composure as tears began to fill your own eyes.

“It’s okay. What you said hurt, I don’t need to explain that for you to know it. Even though it felt like a small dig into who I am as a person and what I grew up to love, it’s true. What the Fire Nation did, what they are doing is awful, but I can’t speak up to defend them. I am in many ways apart of them. I grew up there, I celebrated their holidays, cooked and ate their food, and read their folktales. As much as I hate what the words ‘Fire Nation’ symbolises to the rest of the world, to you, it’s a part of who I am. No one can take that away from me, not even myself. Despite how much it hurt me, I can’t get mad at you or anyone because your feelings, and everything you said, is valid.” Moving his arms out of your grasp, he wrapped himself around you, holding you close to his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to hear that, you’re amazing y/n. You deserve to be treated with the kindness and love you give to everyone on this ship. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m going to be better, I promise. I promise.” Overcome with emotion, the tears you tried so hard to hold back burst at his words.

Neither you nor Sokka bothered to move from your intertwined embrace on the floor of your room. You were both a sobbing, crying mess. The pain from both of you suffocated the air around you as you cling onto one another for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for being from the very place that caused him so much pain.

Forgiveness for being unable to embrace so much of who you are.

The pain was unrelenting as he weaved his fingers through your hair, shifting so your noses’ and foreheads against one another as he whispered words begging for forgiveness. Wishing, praying, to the Spirits he could take it all away. Sokka’s heart burns from the raging pain that has awoken inside of him. He doesn’t stop running his fingers through your hair almost as if he can stroke away the broken pieces inside of you, looking for new ones underneath so he can start again. Because despite his resentment for where you came from, he knows that to him, you are like a divine angel. You both have your own complex and conflicting backgrounds of life, but he has a desperate desire to care for you in a way he will never be able to explain.

You wanted to lie to him. Say it didn’t hurt, say you could forget. You could do it easily, but you wouldn’t. Knowing you both suffered enough, you didn’t want to do something that could potentially cause each other more pain. This was enough. As you both continued to cry, holding one another with his hands still in your hair, you leant back slightly, bringing a shaky, tender hand to his cheek.

Looking up into his eyes, it’s awfully evident how much pain swims in his beautiful shades of blue. Yet, there seems to be an unspoken understanding as you see a small glimmer behind all the tears. The light you have been yearning for. He sees it in your eyes too. Neither of you can change or take back what’s already been said, but in this very moment there’s hope. You know you can move forward and heal together.

“We’re going to be okay.”

A/N: hi friends!! I hope you liked this one 😊

TO THE TAGLIST: hi all! i was a bit torn on what to do here because i wasn’t sure if you all only wanted to be tagged in my zuko series or my other works as well?? so im so sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged in this so please just let me know if you’d only like to be on the list for the series, zuko, sokka or other characters in general :)

TAGLIST: @slythergirlimagines @mangoberry43 @eridanuswave @whiskeywinter89 @kaylove12 @simplyfandomish @khaleesi-of-assassins @callums-keith @ilovespideyyy @calciumcow @blackhood5sos @nnon-it-up

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

ἀλήθεια (Chapter 1, Vοσταλγία AU)

ἀλήθεια Masterlist

Pairing: Freydis/Reader, Ivar/Reader (past)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: The usual, plus like a lot of angst, a lot of it. (Sort of, I’m not very good with death/violence) graphic descriptions of death.

A/N: The first part of the AU of Nostalgia for Freydis/Reader! This is a deviation from Chapter 37, so beware for spoilers, and also...prepare for pain. Anyhow, I hope you like this!

She finds you sitting on that same clearing from so long ago, sitting almost in the same place. Only this time, you are twirling your wedding ring on your finger.

It is still clear as day, the memory of that time she found you praying on that small clearing, the mark of tears on your face doing nothing to diminish the fire in your eyes. She remembers, because that is the night she realized there was something more to you, something more to the way she saw you, something more to the way she felt greedy and possessive over your attention, something more to the way she felt about you.

Fitting, she supposes, that it was that night when you told her Ivar was forcing you to marry him. She never doubted something back then she called love -now knows better, and calls obsession, calls need, calls selfishness- was what made him bring you to Kattegat, and so Freydis wasn’t really surprised to hear he intended to make you his wife.

It still hurt. If she is honest, it still does.

She remembers what you looked like that night, the defeated edge and the anger and the desperation. She remembers what your hand felt like in hers, warm and tethering and hers. She remembers the way you lived up to the name they give you when you pulled promises of helping you escape from her lips, as if she were under a spell -and maybe she was, maybe she still is-.

And just like that night she approaches silently even though she knows you are aware of her presence, and just like that night her heart pulls in her chest.

Freydis is used to your pain, she is used to your anger; she has been a witness to both many times before.

But this, this is nothing like pain, nothing like anger. This is devastation, and wrath.

She never saw devastation quite like the one that is written in the way your spine isn’t as straight anymore, in the way your voice cracks and breaks and you still talk, in the way you tell her the Greeks were attacked, and they will be attacked again.

There’s a strange air around you, like all that is alive and warm comes to die willingly at your feet, like through the cracks of your broken heart seeps in all the warmth of the earth as if to try to heal it.

Freydis still sits by your side, shoulder to shoulder.

She asks by whom.

And she can’t help but think she has never actually seen wrath before, not until now, not until she sees the gentleness in your eyes fade away in but a breath, not until your expression -always so honest, so alive- gives in to nothingness, not until she hears none of the usual warmth when you say Ivar.

And she realizes maybe it isn’t willingly that the warmth comes to die at your feet, but that your touch that has given so much is also capable -willing- to take it all, even life; and maybe it isn’t a soft heart needing the earth to tend and mend it, but it is the woman that had wars started and ended in her name -for a chance at her love- that demands the world pay for the mistake of trying to break her.

Many times she has looked at you and thought of the spring you always spoke so fondly of. She thought of warmth and gentle breezes and flower crowns.

She looks at you now and thinks of the rage of a storm clouding the skies and ravaging the warm earth with strikes of hail and lightning, she thinks of thorns and poison ivies and vines wrapped tightly around the throats of the undeserving, and yet in the devastation and the wrath there’s still you.

And she reaches for your hand.

You hold hers back so tightly she still feels the ghost of your touch when you’ve left her behind, your back straightened once again, but your eyes dead -so dead, so unlike yours- when you go to face the King.

____

She waits for the world to shake and tremble, she waits for Kattegat’s streets to be a swirl of madness as they did when you were made queen, she waits for word to spread of how the queen has died at the hands of her husband.

She waits, but nothing happens. The earth isn’t split in two, even though she knows you are.

A part of her, a part of her that grows stronger with each passing moment since you left that clearing, begs her to go to the longhouse. She knows she could never kill him -but she wants to-, she knows she couldn’t even try to fight him -but she needs to-.

She doesn’t want to leave you alone.

Night falls, and she tries sleeping, even if her body feels jittery and something in the back of her mind reminds her why she always found ways to hold on to small bits of control. Because there is men like him, and there’s monsters like him, that are willing and able to take everything from her, in ways that are worse than she ever imagined, in ways she can do nothing against.

She stands in front of you, watching you as you carefully finish braiding together a wreath of flowers. The distant door to the longhouse is forced open, and your hands still.

“My love, where are you?” He calls out, and Freydis watches, unable to move, as you close your eyes where you stand and take a deep breath. A cleansing breath. A last breath.

The wreath of flowers falls from your hand.

You start walking, and it feels as if thick vines trap her, but she still fights, she still tries reaching you, pleading with you not to go.

“I’m here.” You tell him, eerily calm.

“Come here,” Ivar calls, still slightly manic, still lost and erratic as big eyes look over you. Freydis takes steps twin to yours, but feels like she is watching from afar when he extends a hand, “I need you.”

Freydis cries and pleads, screams and rages, but neither of you listen. She wishes you could just listen, because…she knows how this tale goes, she knows how this ends.

He kisses you, and for the first time she wishes that kiss to never end. His hand caresses the side of your face, and for the first time she pleads he holds you close and you let him.

But he turns you around in his grip, your back to his chest, his nose buried in your hair as he whispers something Freydis can’t hear, but that she knows doesn’t matter. Won’t matter.

Because she knows what happens now. She doesn’t know how, but she knows.

And all she can do is watch.

The scream is caught in her throat as she watches pull tight at the metal cord, choking you. You both fall to the ground, but it is Freydis who breaks.

You fight, of course you do, and she claws and tears at herself trying to reach you, trying to save you. But she can’t, and your neck bruises and bleeds, your body loses its strength, and your gasps and whimpers fade to nothing.

You fade to nothing.

There’s a deafening moment of silence that follows the moment she realizes you are no longer in this world, a moment where she realizes there is a world without you and she is stuck living in it, a moment where at the fading of your voice and your laughter it feels like it is the rest of the world that has died instead.

She watches, frozen and trembling, as Ivar sits up. Her stomach churns at the way your head lolls lifelessly at the movement. She wants to scream, she wants to fight, she wants to…Gods, please, anything but this.

Shaking fingers move your hair away from your face, but Freydis cannot focus on how that makes her feel sick, and the king’s body is shaken by cries that sound more like a wounded animal’s than a man’s, but Freydis cannot find it in her to think it fitting for a monster.

No, all she can focus on is the metal around your neck. It looks so much like chains.

You died with chains around you. She remembers your voice, quiet and warm, telling her about the thing you feared the most about death; and she has to look at your dead body and remember she will never hear your voice again, and that she failed at keeping you from dying how you most feared: chained.

She wakes up screaming, and blindly stumbles out of the room, towards the entrance of the home. She has to find you, she has to-…

“She won’t die, child of Freyja,” A voice behind her says, and she turns around with a gasp, finding a woman sitting on one of the flimsy chairs with all the poise of who sits on a throne. Her blind eyes feel all-seeing as the woman tilts her head to the side, so reminiscent of…you. “Her death isn’t his to have.”

The woman smiles, and only then Freydis notices the way her full lips are stained with a shade of red that looks sweet.

She blinks, and the wooden roof of her bedroom greets her. She closes her eyes, clutching the pendant that hangs from her neck, and tells herself everything will be alright.

She was always a good liar, after all.

____

“Tomorrow, there will be-…I will be dead tomorrow,” You explain, and though Freydis feels her heart squeeze in her chest, you speak too calmly to be considering your own death. A deep breath, and, “A thrall, she…she looks like me, she will be dead in our-…in his bed come morning. Ivar will know it’s not me, of course, but…tis not something one survives, leaving Ivar the Boneless, everyone knows that.”

Freydis bites back words -accusations, really- that you are still protecting him, protecting his pride, his image, his reputation. That you are still trying to find a way to spare him the pain.

You breathe something that in a life before this could have been a chuckle, but now only sounds bitter and broken.

“Kattegat will see its queen die, I’m sure that surprises no one. Especially with a…a foreign witch on the throne of a realm she never belonged to.”

“You’re leaving.” The shieldmaiden states, instead of replying to your strange and manic words. Freydis is almost grateful she speaks, because she knows you would have kept on talking.

You meet Valdís’ gaze and in your eyes shines what in a weaker woman would be desperation. But all Freydis sees is determination, and relentlessness, and the stubbornness of something warm and alive trying to survive the winter.

“I have no choice. These are my people, he-…I need to return to those who are still alive. If I wait any longer…if I wait, I may not have life or freedom to make this choice, Valdís,” You raise your chin, but the tears clog your throat and make your voice break. Still, you push on, a rueful smile on your lips, “You know to me there isn’t a difference in losing either.”

The shieldmaiden nods, what Freydis would swear are tears shining in her pale eyes, and embraces you tightly. You barely move to return the embrace, and she has a feeling she understands why.

“I love you, witch. May we meet in the life after this one.”

You look up at Valdís broad frame, and your expression trembles, your breath trembles past your lips in a sob you mask in a pitiful and bittersweet laugh that whispers what you cannot, it won’t happen, not to us, Valhalla and the Underworld will never be one and the same.

“If my mother-…if you ever meet Sieghild, if she returns here,” You close your eyes as you step back, “Tell her I couldn’t survive till the spring. Tell her I love her, and that I hope her Gods and mine keep her.”

Valdís nods her head again, the clear tell of gritted teeth as she looks away from you.

You approach Freydis, and she sees some of your resolve crumble, as if the goodbye hurts you as much as it would hurt her.

“Freydis…”

“Don’t say goodbye,” She advises you, stepping forward. “I am not leaving you alone.”

Your lips part, something quite close to a sob leaving your throat. Still, you shake your head. Stubborn woman.

“N-No, Freydis, I can’t...I can’t ask this of you.”

It is foolish, since you remind her now more than ever of the skittish and distrusting woman that was first brought to Kattegat; but Freydis still reaches forward, grasps your hand in hers.

“Wherever your Gods or mine take you, I shall be at your side,” She vows, as quietly as she can, looking directly into your eyes. Her mind was made long before she even told you those words for the first time. “I swore by it. You aren’t alone.”

You return the hold of your hand on hers, and that is all the answer she needs. With nothing but the clothes at her back and an amulet of Freyja hanging from her neck, Freydis leaves it all behind.

____

She feels like you have been on the run for an eternity, it feels like her legs burn from days of walking, and her body is being pulled to the earth by unseen vines wrapped around her.

By the way you lean against a tree and take careful breaths, she would think you feel the same. But then she catches the faraway look in your eyes as you look back at the direction you came from, and even if you are so far now from Kattegat that this isn’t even considered its border anymore Freydis knows to you it feels like it is still behind you, breathing down your neck.

You meet her eyes, and she doesn’t hesitate to straighten her back and motion for you to continue walking. She doesn’t mind walking for as long as she has to, not for you.

You find a hunter’s camp near the city you say the Greeks had settled at, and you silently agree to spend the night there.

Before the dim fire you two are able to start, Freydis sits and watches the shadows battle the light of the flames, darkness and light, life and death, fighting for the bigger portion of your soul.

The tears make a silent trail down your cheeks as you twirl the golden ring in your hand. The engraved flowers seem to mock you, standing out even more now that the ring is dirtied and muddied from days on the run.

“Did I make a mistake?” You ask her, big eyes filled with a mix of nostalgia and hope she is so used to seeing in your gaze, but that now more than ever, maybe because so much has changed and so much remains the same, it breaks her heart all the more.

And she doesn’t have an answer to give you. She wishes she could tell you coming back would be the right choice, that there’s more waiting at your back than whatever you are facing now. She wishes she could tell you that it was the right choice to leave it all, that you belong to Greece and that there is hope to be found after all that has happened.

But she can’t do either of those things, because she doesn’t know.

And how she wishes she did, if only to make the lost look in your eyes disappear, if only to somehow protect you from the desperate and broken hope that makes your breaths shallow.

“Do you think you did?” Is what she asks instead.

You meet her eyes, unwavering. And shake your head.

Your answer breaks you further than any of hers could, and your face crumples in pain.

It isn’t just the fear of them finding you what keeps you quiet, it is grief cutting any sound from leaving your throat even as you bow your back and part your lips in a scream. The rage and the pain threaten to break you at the seams, and desperate hands clutch at your hair, your own arms wrapped around you as you fold in over yourself, as if to keep yourself together.

All Freydis can do is put her own arms around you, bring you close to her and let you shake and cry and break.

Your breaths never find a regular pattern, scattered and shaking, more labored and pained whenever your hands tighten and you feel the press of that damn ring against your skin. You never lose the tension in your frame, not once in the whole night does your pain leave you for long enough to let you rest, you hold yourself tightly and desperately under your own control.

You tell her it hurts, you tell her you have been torn apart, and the way your voice breaks and shakes around the shape of her name makes her wish she had anything other than quiet and warmth to give you.

When the first rays of the new day try piercing the darkness of the forest around you, there’s a defeated kind of resilience to the way you stand up and walk away.

She moves to follow, but you tell her to stay and rest, and that you will return soon.

When you do, there isn’t a ring in your finger anymore.

____ ____ ____

So, what do you think?

Ivar attacking the Greeks is something I considered a lot for the plot of Nostalgia, but it was something so unforgivable that I couldn’t put in the main story, so here goes. I hope you like this Freydis, and idk, that you like the pairing. Of course they won’t get there anytime soon cause Reader truly loved Ivar and is going to have to grieve that relationship, but I like these two together, a lot.

Enough rambling! Please let me know what you think! Also, if you don’t want to be tagged in this AU, lemme know! I know Freydis isn’t for everyone, so feel free to ask me to take you off the list for this one! Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside @aprilivar @msrawog

#freydis x reader #freydis vikings #freydis #ἀλήθεια masterlist

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