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Parley? (opla!zoro x you)
summary: a stranger arrives to disturb your peace and you have no choice but to negotiate with him.
wc: 2.57k
cw/tags: first meeting, swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence including blood and swords, zoro doesn't know how to express his feelings
note: i'm so nervous posting this ngl because i really like zoro as a character but i'm scared that i'm not gonna do him justice since i don't know him as well as gojo or geto or bakugo etc etc etc. hopefully all yall zoro girlies like this because i've been itching to write for him since my explore page became nothing but mackenyu. enjoy!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
You hear the chimes first. The melody is soft, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear, but you sense it. After all, you were the one who tied the string under the walkway floorboards in such a way that the bells above your window would clink if something pressed down on the wood. Over time, you learned to identify where outside was being pushed based on more strings and bells. It made it easier to find the Lady, on the rare occasion she stepped into open air and you weren’t with her. However, whoever was now setting off your makeshift alarm system had footsteps unlike the usual occupants of the house. The quietness of the notes was unsettling, in a way, because it meant they were creeping around the house. Someone didn’t want to be heard.
It was the flowers next, the roses with uniquely reflective petals that were especially good at bouncing moonlight precisely through your window. The Lady commented one day in the market that she’d taken a liking to that particular flower, and you bought the vendor’s entire stock to plant around the house once you realized how it could be used. Not before you built a crow’s nest-like window, first. The glass structure jut out of the house in just the right way that you received colors from the left, right, and front of the house. Had an intruder approached from the back, your only blindspot, you would hear the more insistent clicks of the typewriter keys attached to the outside deck panels. The nearly noiseless bells and the ominous shadow sneaking across your wall were enough to snap you wide awake.
The soles of your feet meet cool stone as you slide from under the covers, wrapping the sheath of your saber around your waist and slipping out of your bedroom. Despite the darkness of the hallway, your legs move by memory to the Lady’s chambers only to find the door already ajar.
Shit. Were you too late?
Slinking into the room in one graceful stride, words leave your mouth without thinking when you see him standing over your Lady, holding two deadly-looking swords.
“Taking a life halfway gone is immoral no matter the bounty, pirate hunter.” His head snaps in your direction and you have your blade on him before he can blink, resting the point lightly but threateningly against his throat. His eyes narrow on you challengingly and you put ever so slightly more pressure into your hilt, forcing him to surrender and sheath both swords. The third, you note, remains undrawn on his hip. “No better targets to pursue than a retiree? I expected better from the demon of the East Blue.” His gaze remains unchanging while you step forward, inching him backward until his head hits the wall with a soft thud. You were thankful, for once, that the Lady was starting to lose her hearing and was always a deep sleeper.
“She’s wanted,” he says in a low tone.
“She’s withered,” you retort. “Killing her advances justice no more than leaving her alive.” His face is still unreadable, void of any emotions just as the rumors conveyed. Many tales circulated of the infamous pirate hunter, but you chose to believe the Lady to be far too irrelevant to pose any real threat to the Marines. As one of the last known powerhouses of the Gold Roger era, it was more likely her wanted poster would be drowned out amongst younger hotshot pirates than for her to become an actual target. And yet, here was the most feared bounty hunter in the seas, hunting down a myth that many assumed was already six feet under. And for what, fun?
“It doesn’t matter. Honor is a courtesy denied to killers.” He speaks in a way like you wouldn’t understand his ideas, and it sends a white-hot flash of anger racing through your veins.
“Ooh, yes. You’re being so honorable by julienning a defenseless old woman while she sleeps.” To your surprise, he flinches, unwillingly bringing your eyes to corded muscle and flexed biceps. It’s a bit of a struggle to refocus on the task at hand. “Enlighten me on how this makes you feel vindicated.”
“I kill pirates for a living,” he states simply, nodding over to the slumbering mass under the thick comforter. The tip of your sword follows every movement he makes, careful not to give him an opening to strike. Unexpectedly, he seems almost relaxed, like the weapon at his throat was the least of his worries. “That woman is a pirate.”
“That woman was a pirate. She is no longer the ‘Captain Indigo’ you seek.”
“Who is she now, then?”
“Lady Lavender, adored by her constituents and far removed from a life of piracy. If I weren’t on the verge of spilling your organs on the carpet, I’d say visit the farmer’s market on Tuesdays. You’ll see just how different her life is now.” His chin tilts in disagreement.
“The Marines say otherwise.”
“What do you say?” A minute tilt of your wrist angles your saber so that the point now resides under his sharply defined jawline. “Hmm, hunter? Any opinions in that thick skull of yours or are you just another mindless government weapon?”
“You understand nothing,” he mutters like an indignant teenager, looking off to the side woefully. It makes your blood boil.
“Try me,” you snarl at the green-haired stranger. In another life, you’d have thought him pretty handsome, if you weren’t so infuriated by his indifferent sense of justice. He knew nothing about you, or the Lady, or what either of you had to endure to create a sense of safety. Safety, you would add, that you weren’t going to give up easily.
“This woman you serve, what are you to her? A caretaker? A child?”
“A friend,” you answer cautiously. “Something your line of work would know nothing about.”
“The Marines know that your friend murdered the former governor and seized the island in an act of desperation,” he informs you with a note of condescension. “They’ve wanted her gone for ten years, and I am here to collect her head. It’s not personal; it’s business.” The incorrectness of his information is laughable, but what concerns you more is the ease with which he talks of taking lives.
“You don’t feel any sort of remorse for the targets you kill?” The anger in your stomach starts to rub against a different, unwanted influx of sorrow. After witnessing the change in a ruthless pirate empress, you refused to believe a human could be this heartless.
“I don’t dwell on them long enough to care. Most of the time, they do something stupid that makes it a little easier to dispose of them.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong about her,” you recover, pressing the blade against his skin on the brink of drawing blood. He winces, squirming against the wallpaper for some sort of relief. You don’t budge. “The former mayor was a half-brother whom she reconnected with after Gold Roger’s execution. His death was caused by a misdosage of medicine used to treat hemorrhoids he’d suffered with since he was twenty. On his deathbed, he made her promise to take care of this city...” You inhale, focusing on the man in front of you. His expression is soft, nothing like you would have expected from a feared killer-for-hire. He was actually listening to you.
“Go on.”
“And to take care of me. I have the great pirate hunter at the end of my blade, so she must not have done that bad of a job at either request.” He’s silent for a moment and you watch the cogs turn in his brain, hoping he’d find some humanity and realize that killing the Lady isn’t just pointless, it’s fundamentally wrong.
“It doesn’t change the fact that I need money.” Nevermind, then. Backup plan it is.
“I understand that,” you concede, and you remove your weapon from his neck. His hands are on the hilts of his swords instantly, but he doesn’t draw them. He could kill both you and the Lady in a single swing, but he doesn’t. Maybe you did reach a different side of him. “That's why I’m willing to cut you a deal.”
“I don’t make deals with pirat–” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself off when you raise your eyebrows in expectation. Did you not learn anything from what I just told you? His face contorts in confusion, as if his mind was at odds with what his body was telling him to do. After carefully schooling his expression into blankness, he stands to his full height, rolling a broad shoulder. “What’s the deal?”
“You’re aware of the Blue Ringed crew, yes?”
“Famous for their poisons, I’ve heard,” he confirms and you nod. “They cover every inch of their ship in toxins and wear special clothing to prevent contact with their skin. Makes it hard to sneak up on them.”
“Exactly. See, you’re not as uneducated as you look,” you tease and you feel your face heat when he sticks his tongue out at you. It’s so boyish and immature, in stark contrast to the handsome, god-bodied man that faces you. “I happen to have a counteragent, enough for you to get on their ship and collect three times the amount if you killed us tonight.”
“And what would you get in return?”
“The sound of your boots walking off the property and never returning,��� you whisper a little desperately, pleading with him to leave your perfect peace intact and forget this altercation ever happened. The quiet in the room as he ponders your offer is suffocating save for the gentle snores of Lady Lavender. Eventually, he takes your deal, inspecting the powder-filled vial when you bring it to him on the front porch.
“How do I use it if it’s powder?”
“Mix it with lotion to help soak it faster into your skin. When your skin is dry, you’ll have roughly an hour to navigate the boat completely immune to the poison. It’s sweat resistant but will wash off with seawater, so take care not to get thrown overboard,” you instruct him, crossing your arms across your chest against the chilly ocean air blowing in from the south. It was breezier than normal and you regret not grabbing a sweater. Unless you wanted to freeze your ass off, you needed to finish this debacle quickly. “Kill the pirates, get your bounty, and leave us the hell alone. Deal?”
“Fine by me.” He carefully places the vial in the pocket of his pants and begins his descent down the front walkway. Before you can turn back into the house, however, his voice reaches your ears so lightly you think you’d hallucinated it. “Stay warm.”
He doesn’t end up keeping his side of the deal. A few days after your initial altercation, he approaches the house again in broad daylight holding a box about the size of your hand. You stare at him in disbelief, reading in the nook of your window and he has the audacity to smirk at you when he spots you looking.
“I thought we had a deal, pirate hunter,” you remind him when you open the front door of the house. It was infuriating how good he looked for having just returned from a pursuit, dressed up in fine fabrics with his hair combed back nicely. The irony was palpable, the situation not unlike the stories the Lady told you about the numerous men who attempted to court her. They appeared at the same front door with flowers, rubies, and promises of devotion, but none of them actually wanted her heart. In contrast, you wanted to stab the heart of the idiot in front of you.
“Stop calling me that,” he frowns and you can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth. “My name is Roronoa Zoro–”
“Oh, sorry,” you interject and his eyebrows furrow at your lack of manners. “Am I just supposed to act like you’re my friend now? After you tried to kill my boss?”
“I thought we were past that,” he states bluntly.
“That was four days ago.”
“It’s enough time to move on.”
“You’re impossible.” You shake your head in disbelief, slightly puzzled at the giddy feeling in your chest when the faintest smile appears on his face. “What’s that?” You gesture to the rosewood box in his fingers.
“Consider it an apology,” he says, holding out the box for you to take, “for bothering you the other night.”
“How chivalrous.” You eye the box warily, still unsure about the enigmatic bounty hunter before you. “But we don’t need nor want your money.”
“It’s not money. Just open the damn box,” he grunts impatiently and you begrudgingly oblige, sliding back the top panel to reveal a bracelet. It wasn’t like any other bracelet you’d seen before, a gold chain garnished with a single deep green emerald barely the size of your pinky fingernail. It was delicate and elegant, subtle enough not to draw attention but luxurious enough to make you feel spoiled. “Do you like it?”
“I do, actually. The color is pretty,” you reply slowly, still slightly in shock. “Why green?”
“Take a wild guess.” He smirks again and your gaze flicks up to his hair. It was just as vibrant as the gemstone and he watched you carefully as the pieces clicked into place. With the bracelet, you’d be forced to think of him every time you looked at it or anything the color green. What kind of guy buys a momento for almost killing you, you had no idea.
“You didn’t need to bring me this. I thought the deal was–”
“I remember what the deal was, but I felt bad making you stand outside shivering while you explained how the counteragent functioned.” Your eyes widen slightly at his admission. He noticed you reacting to the wind, so how intensely was he watching you that night? If he sees your surprise, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to explain why he brought you the gift in the first place. “The powder worked, by the way. I snagged this from the captain’s chambers on my way out.”
“You stole this because you saw me get cold?” He merely shrugs, clearly unbothered.
“I mean, yeah. You looked miserable.”
“I was miserable.” He smiles slightly again, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. It makes your heart stutter against your wishes. “Does this mean we’re even now, pirate hunter?”
“Call me Zoro and maybe I’ll consider it.”
“You’ll consider it?”
“Holding a sword to someone’s throat is a major transgression that can’t be forgiven so easily,” he taunts and you roll your eyes. “Let me start over, meet you properly without the involvement of weapons.”
“You really want to see me again?” He scoffs at your question as if the answer wasn't crystal clear.
“What, bringing you a bracelet wasn’t obvious enough? I’ll have to bring the entire ship next time. Might take a little longer to get back to you.”
“Get off my porch, Roronoa Zoro,” you laugh, reaching out to push his shoulder away and feeling every inch of his skin against your fingers in the brief moment your bodies touch. “Don’t come back unless you have something important to say.”
“I think you’ll soon find out what I prioritize as important.”
#zoro x you#zoro x reader#zoro x y/n#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x y/n#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#opla x reader#opla x you#opla x y/n#opla!zoro x you#opla!zoro x reader
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Slip of the Tongue
A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers
Chapter one
Eddie Munson, AFAB reader, neighbor! reader.
Reader and Eddie are the same age - she's in College and he's repeating his senior year once again.
Chapter Summary: You discover that Eddie's been practicing a very interesting new trick on his guitar, one which he offers to use on you under the guise of giving you some much needed stress relief.
A/N: Listen, series scare the shit out of me but I'm trying to challenge myself with a tiny one. I kind of already feel like I'm biting off more than I can chew but I'm going to give it my best shot.
Inspired by those clips of Steve Vai and Jimi Hendrix. ifkyk.
Chapter warnings: Nothing explicit this chapter. Some suggestive stuff but the real smut begins next chapter, so if you want more you better let me know!
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He's doing it again. Of course he's doing it again.
You tilt your head forward, forehead dropping into your hands. Heatedly, you mutter your annoyance under your breath, thumbs rubbing at throbbing temples and eyes squeezing shut when the music picks up to an ear ringing volume.
Eddie Munson took sick pleasure in riling you up – you were certain of that given how he only ever seemed to plug in his guitar when it was time for you to study your coursework, wrecking your concentration and making your temper skyrocket with a kind of ease only he was capable of.
For years, you’d taken issue with the fact that your trailer neighbored his own, your bedroom becoming an echo chamber for every blaring chord progression and heavily distorted guitar riff that strummed out from Eddie's open window.
And as always, you felt the need to make your displeasure known.
Abandoning your textbooks, you hastily shove your shoes on to stomp over next door. You knew from painful experience that it was best to head behind the Munson’s trailer and approach Eddie’s bedroom window than to pound on the front door, the sound of his playing almost always too loud for him to notice your knocking.
Trampling over the patchy, dry lawn that lay between your homes, you made your way across, rounding the corner and striding up to the open window, fuming with thoughts of what you’d yell at him this time when you caught sight of the metalhead.
As expected, he's rocking out in the center of his unruly bedroom. No doubt having tuned the rest of the world out, channeling so much of his wild, boundless energy into his playing.
His mop of dark messy curls aren't tied back today, allowed to sway, tumble and whip around his face as he played to an audience of some devilish looking posters and a couple figurines that stood on his crowded desk, probably a part of that fantasy game he's always going on about.
He's dressed in grey sweats that hang low around his hips and a ratty old band tee that tended to ride up, you couldn't help but notice.
‘At least he’s got clothes on today’, you thought to yourself mirthlessly, only a touch thankful for the silver lining of not having to confront him while he's shirtless or in his boxers again. Not that he’d ever minded you seeing him like that before.
Your last encounter with Eddie was one you hoped to soon forget, cringing because he'd caught your gaze wandering when you came over to reprimand him for the noise again, becoming noticeably distracted by his bare chest and the tattoos adorning it.
You don't know how it happened, only that you fell into a sort of daze when your eyes slipped lower to follow the slope of his pale tummy, leading to the sparse trail of dark hair which thickened below his belly button and disappeared underneath the waistband of his boxers.
D'you want a picture or something, darling?, he'd quipped, growing even more pleased with himself when your face turned hot and the embarrassment of getting caught had you stuttering out the first thing you could manage.
"F-fuck off, Munson", you spit back and retreated awkwardly, the sound of his barking laughter as you did so ringing in your ears long after you made it back into your room and hid underneath your blankets for a good hour.
Yeah, that was hard to live down. As was trying to expunge the image of Eddie's unclothed torso from your mind.
Most times he could anticipate your arrival, like a lightning storm only he could forecast but this time he hasn’t seemed to noticed you yet, tongue pinched between his lips in concentration while his fingers travelled skillfully over the ebony fretboard of his guitar.
Watching him play like that sometimes made you think that if he hadn't plagued you for half your life with all of his antics, you might have admitted that he was good musician - that he had talent most people didn't care to acknowledge and maybe even go so far as to say that you found it impressive that he’d managed teach himself how to play in lieu of any lessons.
But you weren’t about to sing Eddie Munson's praises. Not when he was seconds away from making you pop a vein.
Taking a deep breath in, you prepared yourself to start the unpleasant cycle of bickering with your neighbor once again, hoping against hope that, at the very least, it'll be a short exchange this time.
“Ed-"
You meant to catch his attention with a single shout but the heated call flattens on your tongue in an instant, heart beat kicking up as you watch what he does next.
He lifts his treasured Warlock and you're half afraid for him when he casually flips the front of the instrument towards his face, its angular design and jagged edges enough to worry you even when he played on it the regular way.
But it's when his tongue stretches out, long and slick like a serpent, that things start to feel...hazy. Speechlessly, you stare as he slides it along one of the guitar's six strings, following the length of it from near the bottom of the fretboard while his left hand continued to flit over the strings by the neck, creating harmonics in a way you’d never thought was possible before.
Are my palms sweating?
The sound begins to shift again and your eyes bulge when he slides his tongue back down, flicking and picking the guitar strings by the tip of it with more speed and dexterity than you'd thought was possible, his fingers continuing to move seamlessly to hold down every note.
Eyes closed (and there was no chance of you letting that happen) there was no way you could've told the difference than if he’d been playing with his fingers all along, the sound just as sharp and crisp as as every time before.
It's filthy, bordering on vulgar the way he’s moving the silky pink muscle so expertly, so much so that it makes you feel like you're intruding, peeping in on something that only happened behind closed doors.
But that gnawing feeling isn't anywhere near enough to make you stop looking. Your gaze stays planted firmly on Eddie's mouth, the sight making your head crowd with static and your belly swirl with heat. Your thighs had been clamped together too, you realize, a sickening realization dawning over you when they rub together, registering the dampness pooling between them underneath your skirt.
Oh my god…am I w-?
And just as abruptly as the realization had sunk in, the song ends. Deafening silence returns to your shared corner of the trailer park when Eddie sets the guitar back down to hang by the strap fixed over his shoulder, eyes flicking to you as if he'd known all along that you'd been standing there, gawking at him.
"So, what do you think? pretty good, right? been working on it for weeks", he pants out, chest rising and falling softly with each labored breath.
Somehow, this feels so much worse than when he caught you staring the last time.
With luck, you're able to shake yourself out of your trance like state, round eyes narrowing in preparation to berate him as originally intended
"Fucking hell, Eddie would you keep it down? I'm trying to study!", you agonize, scrambling to find your fury again.
But your tone doesn’t seem to bother him, it rarely ever did. So he leans through the open window, elbows resting on the window pane, eyeing you up and down all amused.
"You look stressed", he observes, and it's the flippant way in which he does it that ticks you off, with the kind of lopsided smile you’d often described as annoying. For the most part because he’d almost always done something to that effect before flashing you one.
"I am", you confirm with an acidic glare, hoping he couldn't tell how frazzled his little performance had left you.
"And you're not helping so knock it off"
Turning on your heel, you're desperate to retreat back to your place for a reprieve, heart hammering inside your chest when he calls out to you again.
"I could help you relax, y'know"
The way he says it makes you pause, like he's about to let you in on a secret.
Your skin prickles with goosebumps. "I'm not buying weed from you Eddie", you answer back over your shoulder, trying to look unimpressed as you attempt to turn him down.
"I wouldn't charge", the boy winks at you without missing a beat, undeterred by your cold attitude and you hate that his persistence makes your face feel hot.
"But that's not what I was going to suggest"
"Oh?"
You turn around to face him again, intrigue building.
He takes a moment to scan you thoughtfully, brows furrowing, almost as if he's weighing the outcomes of what might happen if he were to continue.
"You liked what you saw, right?", his brown eyes flicked down to his guitar and back up to you in quick reference to what you were hoping to avoid.
The mention of what you'd witnessed him doing with his tongue brings that hot, sticky feeling sitting at the base of your stomach back in full force, alarm bells ringing in your head.
"What does that have to do with anything?", you ask cautiously, realizing a second too late that you’ve only confirmed his suspicion.
"Well..."
Eddie curls a finger up at you, rings glinting in the sunlight, beckoning you closer and for some reason you actually oblige, stepping up to his window until you’re only a foot apart from one another.
Low and throaty, he whispers to you. "I can do a lot more with my tongue than just shred on my guitar", flicking the muscle salaciously between his lips like a viper ready to strike.
It should revolt you, watching the crude gesture courtesy of the bane next door, the implication behind it enough to make your skin crawl.
So why doesn't it?
Why does it make you want to leap at him and close the distance between the two of you, hungry to feel his tongue against your own?
"You're disgusting", you tell him instead in an attempt to deflect, voice wavering through the lie.
But he's too astute to be fooled now. "And you like it", he counters easily.
"So are you going to cut the bullshit and climb in here or what?"
You stare at the hand he holds out to you and before you can think to just walk away, before you can pull yourself together and stifle the roaring fire inside lapping at your bones, your fingers have found their way to his.
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Primae Noctis
King Viserys x fem!AFAB!reader (OC)
WC : 3.6K
SW : Reader is given a name to make my life easier, however there is no usage of "Y/N," and physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and up to interpretation. PWP, Jason Lannister is an inadvertent cuck, oral, both m! and f! receiving, unprotected PiV, creampie, breeding kink, - you can't tell me that vizzy t doesn't have one -
If there's any more warnings to be added let me know!
This is the first installation out of a few others, I'll be doing Aemond, Aegon, Daemon, and possibly other hotd characters.
This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.
“Droit Du Seigneur,” which translates to “right of the lord,” is a mediaeval practice that’s also known as Primae Noctis, and it refers to the assumed legal right of feudal lords and kings to deflower and bed subordinate women on their wedding night, instead of new their husbands.
“Presenting Lady Braella of House Kneight, to King Viserys of House Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” The boisterous voice of the Kingsguard calls out, opening the door for you into King Viserys’ chambers. You’re still in your wedding dress, a beautiful garment of a light cream colour with gold embellishments, it looks surprisingly opulent and fit for a member of royalty considering that your family is poor, and had little money to get it made.
You stand with your hands clasped in front of you, gaze lingering on your shoes as Viserys quietly dismisses the guard, “Thank you, Sir Erryk,” a slight chuckle in his voice, “That will be all.” The heavy door closes with a resounding thud, leaving you alone with the King of the Kingdoms. “Good evening, Lady Braella, would you like to take a seat?” An arm covered in black fabric that’s trimmed with red lifts up and gestures towards two seats that are directly in front of an ornate fireplace that burns softly, on the left side of the room. On the right, lies the sculpture of Old Valyria that the King seems to have worked endlessly on.
You give a polite nod, finally lifting your head up to take in your surroundings. There’s a desk next to the chair, endless amounts of books stacked up on the surface and the area around it, various half-melted candles littered throughout the room, basking the room into a very light golden glow, but still leaving it rather dark. In the next area of the high-arched chambers is a bench seat in front of the window, a chaise lounge, another softly glowing fireplace, and finally the Kings’ bed, a plush looking thing with a dark oak four-poster frame, and soft looking red and gold sheets.
‘It’s a good thing that the bed appears soft,’ you think, ‘considering I’ll be laid across it later.’
The thought causes you to blush, and you can feel the heat rushing to your face. Gently sweeping your dress underneath yourself as you take a seat, hands coming back up to clasp in your lap. The king looks at you with a soft smile on his face, and a knowing look in his eye. “Could I offer you a cup, Lady Kneight? Possibly for the nerves?” already reaching for the pitcher of wine and one of the goblets next to it, “Yes thank you, my King, and unfortunately it is no longer to be Lady Kneight, but Lady Lannister, my Lord.” Reaching out to accept the cup offered to you, nearly downing half of it in one gulp. “But you are not yet married, and until you perform your nuptials and Jason Lannister beds you, you are still Lady Kneight.”
Remaining silent, you continue to take generous sips of wine, feeling down at the reminder that you are to marry a man that does not love you. You come from a small farming isle, your father is the most wealthy and successful farmer on the Island, and all the other citizens declared him Lord and representative because of this, but in terms of King’s Landing, in the eyes of the King himself, you were to be considered very poor and impoverished. The only reason Lord Lannister asked, or more so demanded, for your hand was to try and obtain the Isle for himself. Your father was very old, you were the last attempt out of a long line of failure and loss, and unfortunately the years of strain had already caused irreversible damage, and your mother died shortly after you were born. Lord Lannister believed that once your father died he could then possess the largest farming plot, and then after that, the whole town. You can feel the overwhelming sadness, the future ahead of you is dim; a long life of being the broodmare for some proud lion who will show you no love, no kindness, and will expect you to sit by quietly while he continues to indulge in women, cups, and chase after power.
You feel a warm calloused hand place itself softly upon your own that are still clasped in your lap. You tear your eyes away from the random spot that they had focused on upon the wall, turning to face the King you find that he has this melancholy look upon his face. “As you know, I lost my wife, Aemma, and my son Baelon, not long ago. The council has been demanding of me to remarry, to take a new bride for the prosperity of the kingdom and the propagation of the Targaryen line.” His eyes have begun to drift away from yours, the death of his wife and child weigh heavily upon his mind still. You’re suddenly filled with doubt, you shouldn’t be here, not so close to the death of his wife, it’s rather selfish of you, you think, even though it’s the law that you be here.
“Even though I am one for tradition,” He carries on, thumb absentmindedly rubbing across your knuckles. “I must say, the notion of arranged marriages is not one of my favourites. At least luck was in my favour with my marriage, I had known Aemma almost all my life, I was familiar with her, which made everything much easier. However I offer you my commiserations, to be forced to marry someone of whom you hold no knowledge or familiarity with. And if you’ll allow me to speak freely my Lady, I’m sorry that you’ve been stuck with such an excuse of a man as the Bastard of Casterly Rock.”
You feel your eyes widen as you choke on the sip of wine you had just taken. The King was allowed to speak freely of course, he is the King after all, but you didn’t expect such crass and crude honesty from him, especially towards someone who consistently supported and pledged fealty to the King, whether out of cowardice or not. He makes a shocked face as you begin to cough, sliding to the edge of his chair to reach out his left hand and place it on your back in a comforting manner. He doesn’t remove his hand from your own or your back even after you’ve regained control of your breathing and ceased coughing.
The room is silent for the next few moments as the two of you look at one another. The King has a soft smile on his face as the two of you resume your conversation, you find that speaking to him is actually rather easy, considering the fact that he’s the King. You speak on everything from your parents to the model of Old Valyria that he’s constructing, a large and eager smile overtaking his face when you ask him about the subject. Eventually after a few more cups of wine on both your parts, the mood of the air shifts, more tension arising between the two of you.
The King slides off his seat, placing his cup back on the small table before reaching a hand out for your own. “Thank you my King,” placing it in his hand, “There’s no need for formalities, my Lady, you may call me Viserys.” now reaching his hand out for your own to help you from your seat. “Of course, Viserys, and you may call me Braella, if it suits you.” The two of you stand facing each other, just a hair's-breadth away from being chest to chest, The room is feeling very hot, but as much as you’d like to blame it on the two fires that circulate the air, you know it’s because of your close proximity to Viserys and the knowledge of what comes next.
He brings a hand up to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. The heat that emanates from his skin floods your senses, his skin rough yet soft at the same time, providing a certain comfort. Parting your lips as your eyes flutter, the air moves around you and grows warmer before a pair of lips slot against your own. Letting out a soft sound as you press your lips more intently against his own, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, your nails no doubt digging through his shirt to his skin. Viserys’ other hand comes up to cradle your face as well, pressing a little harder into your skin as the two of you fervently kiss.
When you break the kiss, he begins to guide you towards his bed, still slightly panting for breath. He guides you until you stand at the edge of the bed, “May I?” hand gently caressing your back. Nodding your head gently, Viserys begins to undo the laces of your dress while still maintaining eye contact with you. His fingers are quick yet nimble as they loosen the strings, and soon your dress is sliding down your shoulders, leaving you in nothing, as you had removed your smallclothes earlier. He raises a brow at this, “Ready are we?” gently teasing you, offering you a hand so you can step out of your dress. You giggle, more heat coming to the surface of your face. You ignore his comment and instead begin to undo the fastenings of his shirt, going through the clasps as quickly as you can.
He shrugs off the shirt as you glide your hands featherlight down his chest. As you drag your hands down you also begin to slowly sit down on the edge of the bed, as your hands reach his breeches you gently palm the bulge that sits there. Viserys throws his head back with an audible moan that echoes lightly across the empty stone walls, eyelids slipping closed, his hands slightly clenching at his sides. You untie the laces and reach a hand in to grab his cock, one of his hands immediately comes up to loosely rest on the back of your neck, you lower his breeches just enough to pull his cock out, watching as it gently bounces up. Viserys is well endowed, it’s a good length and your fingers just barely wrap all the way around, the tip is pink and glistening in precum.
Glancing up at him to find that he’s already looking at you, mouth parted and pupils blown. You realise that he’s waiting for you to do something, but you’re not exactly sure how to do it. You suddenly grow very nervous, eyes darting away from his own, he seems to notice this, bringing up the one hand that isn’t on the back of your neck to encircle your own, he tightens his grip and subsequently your own, before moving your hand up and down his length. He groans and speeds it up a little more, moving your hand to stroke over the head, collecting the precum on your palm to spread it and make the glide of your hand easier. “Oh, keep going.” words breathed out, continuously letting out groans as he lets go of your own hand to let you take over completely.
You keep going for a while, slowly tightening your grip and speeding up which gives you a steady stream of moans from Viserys, until you remember something some of the married women told you about; how men found a woman using her mouth pleasurable. You toss a quick glance upwards towards Viserys before leaning forward and licking the tip of his dick. He gasps loudly, the hand resting upon the back of your neck moves to card through your hair, gripping it tightly. You do it once more in hopes of getting the same reaction from him, doing it again and again, then you take the tip into your mouth, gently sucking. Viserys thrusts his hips forward a little, “Keep going Braella,” his breathing picking up, “Keep going.” He keeps giving little thrusts as you take him further and further into your mouth.
Eventually he gets closer and closer to the edge, quietly murmuring the words “Stop, stop,” as he pulls out of your mouth, his cock throbbing. He gestures a hand towards the pillows, “Get on the bed.” before he works to pull his breeches all the way off. You lay on the bed, slightly propped up by the pillows, watching as he climbs onto the bed, laying slightly on his stomach before grabbing both of your legs and throwing them over his shoulders, gripping your hips and pulling you towards his mouth, immediately beginning his ravishing. You let out a loud cry, hands going down to his head, grabbing his hair. Viserys licks and sucks on your clit, with various licks downwards to collect more slick, moaning out between ravenous slurps, the vibrations causing you to moan out and grind your hips against his face. He moves his mouth down to your opening, tongue prodding around to stretch you out as his nose now rests against the bundle of nerves. Pushing his tongue in and out as he periodically shakes his head from side to side, providing stimulation to both areas that makes you squirm around on the bed.
The pressure builds up in your lower abdomen, warmth building deep in your bones. Viserys moves his mouth back up to suck on your clit at the same time he pushes two fingers into your hole, quirking them up straight into a spot that makes your head spin and sends you immediately into your peak. You let out moan after moan, not caring how loud you’re being and who could hear you. Your hands are still clenching in his hair, pulling on it and you’re bucking your hips up and down without abandon only for Viserys’ arm to come up and hold you down, his other hand still working you to completion. You squirm around as pleasure turns into overstimulation, moans turning into whines and gasps.
“Oh- Viserys please! Viserys please, it’s-it’s too much!” He looks up at you, mouth still attached to your centre. His eyes crinkle at the corners as you feel his lips quirk around the edges before he doubles down, still working you through it, as the first peak melds into a second one. It’s a blinding pleasure, and you lose feeling of your limbs for a moment, slightly twitching and convulsing, riding your high.
The second you come down you feel Viserys remove his mouth and fingers before he immediately slides his way up the bed, moving your legs from his shoulders to around his waist. There’s not even a moment for you to catch your breath before he’s pushing the fat head of his cock into you, the both of you letting out moans as Viserys slides in slowly, pausing as he reaches your maidenhead. He leans down towards you, lips slotting over your own, spreading the taste of you. One hand goes to cradle the side of your head while the other works its way under your back, pulling you flush against him. You worm your arms up, placing one around his neck and the other into his hair. Pulling his mouth away from your own he gives you a reassuring smile, the hand cradling your face thumbing against your lips. “I’ll be gentle, Braella, as gentle as possible. Are you ready?” offering him an enthusiastic nod at his question, lifting your head up to press your lips back to his own as he begins to move. He thrusts forward gently, continuing to push as he meets the resistance of your maidenhead, soothing your painful whimpers with a stroke of his thumb on your cheek and deepening the kiss. Viserys pushes until the painful pressure suddenly snaps, the pain dissolving into gentle pulses as he finally pushes all the way in.
Viserys stills for a few moments, allowing you a little time to recover, then he pulls almost all the way out, the head of his cock still pressed snuggly inside, before thrusting back in. He immediately begins a steady pace, letting out a groan everytime he pushes in. He breaks the deep kiss that the two of you were in before trailing his kisses down your neck, sucking spots into the tender flesh. He works his way down to your chest, pulling a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently before blowing cold air on it, causing you to cry out. Switching to the other side to continue the ministrations.
He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, lips slick and shiny with spit as he looks at you with dazed eyes, speeding up his thrusts. “I offer my apologies, Lady Braella, there’s no way that the Proud Lion would ever be able to make you feel this way. He’ll make for a pathetic excuse of a husband, and an even more pathetic lover.” You’re barely paying attention to the words he’s saying, the faster his thrusting grows, and the harder his pelvis hits against your own, the more lost you find yourself becoming. “Maybe I’ll spare you from such a fate, hmm? Keep you in my bed, keeping it warm, giving me heirs-” you let out a small whimper, clenching around him tightly. “Oh do you like that idea? The idea of me making you mine, of keeping you full of my seed? Warm and swollen with my child-” His words stuttering off with a groan.
The hand that rests against your face goes down to hold onto your hip, using it to pull you down on his thrusts. The change in angle causes him to hit something that makes white sparks shoot behind your eyes, letting out a loud moan. You begin moving your hips with each of his thrusts, letting the tip of his dick pummel against the spongy spot inside you. “Viserys please, please, I wanna, I have to-” Feeling the pressure build up quicker and quicker, you move your arms down to his back, nails digging half-crescents into his skin. “Go ahead, let go for me.”
It builds, and builds, and then it snaps. You scream out, loud enough for half of the Red Keep to hear you, maybe even loud enough for your soon-to-be-husband and the rest of the wedding party who are waiting in the chapel for you to finish so that way you can begin the ceremony and thusly be locked away in Casterly Rock for the rest of your life.
You can feel yourself clenching and pulsing around Viserys, he lets out moans that rival the audibility of your own, his hips stuttering, pace becoming uncoordinated. He pushes his hips flush to your own, dick twitching as he fills you with rope after rope of cum, it goes deep, and the heat from it makes you moan out. He does a last few little thrusts before pulling out, Viserys presses his hands to the insides of your thighs, holding them apart slightly so he can watch his spend slowly drip out of you, before scooping it up with a finger and pushing it back inside of you. You squirm to the side, too overstimulated for anymore, but too tired to really move away from him. The both of you pant for breath as Viserys removes your legs from where they hang over his hips still, allowing you to stretch them out, he then pulls you onto your side before laying down as well, facing you.
You lay in silence for a moment, looking at the content smile upon Viserys’ face. Reaching a hand up, you push wisps of his recognizably Targaryen white hair out of his eyes and away from his face. He pulls you closer, letting out a contented hum as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck you close your eyes, the both of you basking in the afterglow and taking the time to collect your breath, you feel yourself slowly slipping asleep, finding the utmost comfort in the bed of the King.
After a few moments Viserys sits up, gently laying you back on the pillow and pulling the downturned covers over your body as the fires in the room had gone out sometime during your bedding, and now a chill was bouncing off the stone walls of the chambers. Before you can sleepily mutter out your confusion Viserys offers you a gentle shush, murmuring out a quiet “give me a moment.” as he stands to put on a pair of loose linen breeches and a billowy shirt, throwing a long red robe overtop of them.
He leans down to bestow you with a small kiss, giving you a cheeky smile as he stands back up to his full height.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, Lady Braella, I must inform Jason Lannister that he will no longer be getting married.”
~
Originally posted June 4th, 2023.
#king viserys#King Viserys I#Viserys targaryen#viserys targaryen x reader#house of the dragon#hotd x reader
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Player 1117 ── ATEEZ OT8
0001 ─ into the game
THIS SERIES IS MATURE! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!
⊹ 2k words
⊹ gamecharacters!ateez x fem!reader (ft. txt)
᭡ fantasy au, dark romance au, obsessive/yandere elements.
✧ a/n: i know you guys don't read my author's note so have fun. /:
thank you @sousydive for beta reading.
✦ network: @newworldnet
⊂ warnings: -
:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭?
:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞?
:̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)
This cannot be true.
You stared at the young girl in the mirror before you. She seemed no more than twelve years old, her raven hair cascades in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face like a midnight veil. Her eyes are pools of dark brown, with mesmerizing purple swirls dancing within her pupils.
Her skin is fair and smooth, like porcelain, with a delicate rosy hue on her cheeks that speaks of youth and vitality. Her features were exactly of the Y/n in Utopia - a small button nose, full rosy lips and high cheekbones. She wears a silky sleeping gown, one that looks exactly the same as the one you are wearing right now.
You raised your hand to touch your face, and so did her.
You have read many novels about transmigrating - but novels are fiction. And this is real.
“I’m… in the game?” You whispered, your shaking fingers reaching to touch the mirror. But the cool touch on the tips of your fingers told you that this is not a dream, that everything is real. You looked around, the room you were in is spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricately carved moldings and delicate crystal chandeliers. Sunlight streams through tall windows draped in dark amethyst curtains, glowing down on you.
The walls, floors and pillars were made of the finest marble, covered with sumptuous silk tapestries of flowers. You walked towards the nearest wall, running your fingers along the fine threads that form the images that seem to come alive in the flickering light of the candles and fireplace.
In the center of the chamber sits a four-poster bed, its canopy draped in sheer silk curtains. The bed is covered in luxurious lavender silk sheets, embroidered with the finest silver thread. You walked over to them, taking a seat. They were soft and light, like you were sitting on a cotton cloud. You stared outside of the window, trying to digest the fact that you are in the game.
But who are you?
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. You watched as a maid entered, bowing to you. “Greetings to the Star of Eternity. The Moon and Eclipse have requested your audience.”
You nearly let out a squeak; the maid had answered your question. As two young boys walked in, you were even more certain of it.
You are now Choi Y/n, Star of Eternity, Princess of the Eternity Kingdom.
"Y/n!" The shorter one ran towards you, lifting you up in his arms as though you weighed nothing. "How is our little Star feeling today?"
"Beomgyu! Y/n's twelve, stop carrying her like that!" The taller one chided, as Beomgyu rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at his older brother in response. You wrapped your arms around his neck for support, staring up at your third brother's face.
Choi Beomgyu, the Eclipse of Eternity. He is the third Prince, known for his gift of creating illusions. Utopia did not have much of Y/n's backstory, but you knew that Beomgyu was the only person spared under Wooyoung's sword, and took over Eternity as the new King.
The Beomgyu holding you has long black hair that falls into his shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto your temple, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. "My little Star, so precious." He cooed, ignoring the exasperated sighs of your other brother across the room. "What would I do without you?"
You looked over to your other brother for help. He put his hand on his forehead tiredly. "Let Y/n down, Gyu. Please."
"You're all work and no fun, Soobin hyung." Beomgyu pouted unhappily, placing you gently back on the bed. "Is our little Star excited to meet her new friend?"
Choi Soobin, Moon of Eternity, the second Prince born with the gift of manipulating water. He would later become the War General of Eternity, dying to San in a battle.
Soobin shared the same raven hair as the both of you, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He seemed to have had enough of Beomgyu, sighing loudly and flexing his right arm before casually delivering a loud smack on the back of Beomgyu's head. Ignoring Beomgyu's over-dramatic whines, Soobin approached you, kneeling on one knee to be at the same eye level as you. Taking your hand into his, Soobin had a simple dimpled smile on his face.
"Y/n-ah, remember when Mother mentioned that we have guests over? They are very important people, so remember to behave yourself, okay?"
You tilted your head in confusion. "How important are they, Brother?"
Beomgyu stopped whining and exchanged a look with Soobin. The other lifted his thumb and index, slowly pulling them apart. "It’s this important, Y/n-ah."
"The point is," Beomgyu interjected, earning a disapproving look from Soobin. "They will be arriving before dinner. Yeonjun hyung had already gone to welcome them along with Mother, so we have an afternoon for you to get ready, Y/n." He grinned, one that made you nervous for no reason. "Our little Star must be pretty too."
You glanced at Soobin. The older man nodded, wearing a satisfied expression on his face as though Beomgyu finally made sense. "I got you many dresses to try on, Y/n-ah. Shall we go?" He smiled, offering his hand to you.
You were bathed by the maids before they dressed you into a lavender dress with puffed sleeves and the hem fell gracefully to your knees. Beomgyu picked a purple silk ribbon, tying it to your hair while Soobin knelt on one knee, fitting a pair of white shoes with amethyst crystals onto your feet. When you were done, Beomgyu gushed in delight, showering you with compliments after compliments.
"Our Gem, our little Star," Beomgyu cooed as your face heated up at the praises. "Looking so pretty... I mean, you are always pretty, my Star, but right now, with my magnificent sense of fashion-"
"Our Star!" A loud voice boomed, sending everyone in the room jumping. A tall, blonde hair male barged in, his eyes lighting up the moment it landed on you. You hear Beomgyu mutter a curse under his breath while Soobin puts his hand on his chest. "Yeonjun hyung, at least announce that you're here!"
Yeonjun ignored him, making a beeline towards you and dismissing the maids in the process. "Our Star, so bright and... Why is she so purple?" His face scrunched up at the sight of the little purple crystals adorning your hair, which Beomgyu had 'generously' clipped onto your hair. "Take it off, take it off. The ribbon is purple enough; Y/n doesn't have to be a grape for the Kims to see."
Choi Yeonjun, Sun of Eternity, heir to the throne. He is the oldest out of the four of you, with an ability to soothe feelings. Your face fell slightly, remembering how Yeonjun had died when you played Utopia as the heroine. He was stabbed by...
Who was it?
"You don't know fashion at all, hyung." Beomgyu grumbled, cutting you off your thoughts. Soobin and Beomgyu had been quarreling over the hairclips, and you did not want to pick a side. Yeonjun removed all the crystals in your hair, leaving only the ribbon. "There, our Star shines bright enough like this."
"Thank you, Brothers." You smiled sweetly and the three cooed in response. Beomgyu had his hand dramatically held over his heart, Soobin covered his blushing face with his gloved hands and Yeonjun proudly grinning. "Wait until Mother and Father see you, little Star. Now, shall we run along?"
You took Yeonjun’s hand and allowed him to guide you to the banquet hall with Beomgyu and Soobin trailing behind you two like bodyguards. You could hear the activity in the hall from outside, and you gripped Yeonjun’s hand nervously.
"Announcing the arrival of the Sun, Moon, Eclipse, and Star of Eternity!" The voices of the guards boomed. Yeonjun squeezed your hand as the doors opened, revealing a quiet banquet hall. You could feel many eyes staring at you, but you remained composed, walking alongside Yeonjun to the King and Queen of Eternity. The nobles you walked past bowed respectfully, and when you finally reached the throne, Yeonjun let go of your hand.
"Greetings to Your Majesties," Yeonjun said, bowing to both the King and Queen of Eternity. You curtseyed, while Beomgyu and Soobin bowed behind you. “May peace be ever in your grace.” The King, your Father, nodded. “You may rise.”
The King of Eternity is never shown in Utopia, but you knew that like Soobin, he died under San’s sword. You scanned the man on the throne. He seemed to be in his forties, with the same platinum blond hair as Yeonjun and a kind-looking face.
You didn’t miss the subtle wink the raven-haired woman beside him gave you. Sending a sweet smile towards your Mother, the Queen of Eternity, you turned your attention to the two other presence in the banquet hall.
Yeonjun turned towards them. “Greetings to the Queen of Mist, and Prince Hongjoong. May peace be ever in your grace.”
You froze slightly at the name, but quickly recovered when Yeonjun gently tickled your side, telling you to bow. When you straightened back up again, your eyes met a pair of golden slits. Kim Hongjoong gave you a soft smile, but you quickly looked away, your heart pounding.
Kim Hongjoong, the Prince of Mist. The one who the original Y/n had fallen in love with, and lost both her life and her kingdom to. When you played as Jiwon, Hongjoong seemed to be a normal, sweet Prince who was loyal and polite to her even if she was a commoner. However, when you played as Y/n, he was evil, nasty and horrifying.
The Queen of Mist inclined her head slightly. “Greetings to the Sun, Moon, Eclipse and Star of Eternity. May peace be ever in your grace.” She turned to look at Hongjoong, who too bowed, echoing the greetings. When he was done, you grabbed onto Yeonjun’s sleeve, hiding your face in it.
“Seems like the Star is a little shy, Mira.” Mira is your mother’s maiden name. Yeonjun patted your hair consolingly as your mother laughed. “Oh, Ayang. She'll recognize you soon, you even carried her as a baby.”
The Queen of Mist and your mother seemed to know each other, seeing that they were addressing each other by a first-name basis. You peeked out from behind Yeonjun, avoiding Hongjoong’s gaze as you looked towards the Queen of Mist. She chuckled at your cute reaction, beckoning you. “Come here, little Star, let Auntie have a good look at you.”
“It’s not fair!” Beomgyu burst out dramatically. “You always favored Y/n, Auntie Ayang!”
You blinked, confused at the turns of events. What is happening? Didn’t Beomgyu and Soobin say that they are important guests? And why is your Mother now walking towards the Queen of Mist, holding her hand as she speaks?
“Here.” Yeonjun pushed you out from his side gently. “Go say hi.” You carefully took a few steps forwards, still refusing to look at Hongjoong as you grip your dress tightly. “Y-your Majesty…”
“It’s Auntie Ayang for you, my little Y/n.” The woman bent down slightly while your Mother stood next to her, smiling. “I am your Mother’s best friend, little Star. This is a family event, we can be casual with each other.”
Your heart thumped loudly at this piece of information. So Y/n and Hongjoong had already known each other before Y/n went to the Kingdom of Mist for… For what?
Why.. Why can’t you remember?
“Now, shall the dinner start?” Your Father’s voice pulled you out of reality. You blinked rapidly, and quickly followed Yeonjun as everyone settled down on one table. Unfortunately for you, Hongjoong took the seat next to you.
“Hello, Y/n. I’m Hongjoong.” Hongjoong introduced himself in a small, shy voice, his golden, snake-like eyes upon you. “I hope we’ll be good friends with each other.”
You stared at him, your brows furrowing unconsciously. Then you blurted out, “I don’t want to.”
“Don’t want to do what, Y/n?” Yeonjun didn’t catch the whole conversation and had fetched a napkin for you. You frowned at Hongjoong, your lips forming into an adorable pout.
“I don’t want to be friends with Kim Hongjoong.”
previous // next
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➳ pernament taglist (ateez): @watermelon2319 @levishun
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Bringing Christmas Home.
Fandom: The Hobbit
Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader
Warnings: None.
Summary: From the imagine, "Imagine that you tell Thorin all about your Christmas traditions. As a surprise, he attempts to re-create them in Erebor."
Comments: Requested by @sydmarchsstuff Thank you! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated very much. If you would like to be added or removed to my tag list, let me know.
Thorin kept the image of you in his mind as he worked alongside a group of volunteers to re-create your beloved festive holiday of Christmas. As he helped make ornaments for the tree, with Dwalin by his side, he smiled to himself. You were to be his queen, to be treasured and honoured more so than any other woman in his life. You were his One, his life companion. It was Thorin’s duty to make sure you were happy, and this would hopefully be one more way to solidify that happiness in the mountain kingdom of Erebor, as you were not a child of Middle-earth.
During their first break, Dwalin and Thorin both sat side by side, drinking a mug of tea that had been freshly made. The peppermint scent hit Thorin between the eyes as he tipped the mug forward to take a sip.
“Everything is coming on so much better than I’d hoped for,” Thorin said. He sighed in relief, knowing that all the jobs were almost complete. “I even have her personal gifts prepared.”
“Gifts?” Dwalin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Have you not done enough with all of this?”
Thorin shrugged. “It is in her kind’s tradition and custom to exchange gifts. They decorate their homes, celebrate with food and drink, among other things. I cannot quite remember all of them, but I made sure to remember most.”
Dwalin put his hand on Thorin’s shoulder. He had never seen his longest friend, his King, so happy and content. There was no longer a gigantic weight on Thorin’s shoulders, a need to prove himself. For once, he could be exactly who he was meant to be. And you helped that shine through in him.
***
You wrapped the gifts which you had got for Thorin. You knew that Christmas was not a tradition held in this world, but you wanted to give him signs of your love all the same. These gifts were not wrapped in brightly coloured paper, but instead, you wrapped them in gold and silver fabrics. The library had become your little hideaway, and it was here you had brought the items, which consisted of: a new, midnight blue tunic, a new pipe, and a silver ring with both of your initials engraved. Thorin would no doubt be in your chambers signing documents after council, so it was best you remained scarce.
However, when you returned to your bed chamber, you opened the door to find it dark inside. Candlelight shone through the murk, beckoning you further inside. Were you seeing things? Maybe the darkness was causing you to see shadows. Was that a tree?
“My love,” Thorin’s voice came, drifting through the dark from your left. The door closed behind you, and then you felt his hand in yours. “Come and sit.”
At the end of your four poster bed, you could see a table had been laid out with food. Your eyes were now beginning to grow more accustomed to the gloom. A large cooked turkey and roasted vegetables were laid out.
Your fire was roaring in the corner, creating a comfortable heat. And just to the left of your fire was a tree. It was covered in wooden ornaments, carved into shapes of animals, stars, flowers. Beneath the tree were wrapped gifts, all topped with red bows of silk.
“You did all this?” you gasped. “Why?”
“I wanted to bring Christmas home for you. You have told me many times how you love the festivities, and how could I not try and replicate them here for you?”
“I…I….don’t know what to say,” you whispered. You turned your body toward him, and placed your hands on his chest. “Thank you.”
Thorin wound his arms around you tight and kissed your head. “Anything for you.”
After your meal and the two of you sat in front of the open fire, large mugs of cocoa in hand, and opened your gifts.
“I had no idea you were going to do all of this, but I wanted to get you something anyway,” you said, watching as Thorin opened the fabric to find his new pipe.
“I thought you wanted me to smoke less?” Thorin chuckled.
“I only ever said that I didn’t like the taste of it when we kiss. I didn’t ask you stop,” you corrected him, smiling. “Do you like it?”
Thorin shifted across to you and wound his arm around your waist. “I do. Thank you, my love.”
A short while later and the two of you were idly tangled together on the rug in front of the fire, having just made love. Thorin had his arm over you, and his fingers rubbed circles at the base of your back.
You leaned in and kissed him gently. “There’s only one thing that could make this night even better.”
“And what is that?”
“Get your boots on, and call for Dwalin. We’re going to have a snowball fight.”
***
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#Thorin Oakenshield#Fanfiction#The Hobbit#Request#Imagine#Thorin x You#Thorin x Fem!Reader#Thorin Oakenshield x You#Thorin Oakenshield x Reader#Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader
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obssessed with Mark Pavillion XIII being paranoid and also correct. The Cassandra of gazebo researchers!! This is the peril of being annoying at local government meetings! (anyway I now need this novel too, please write it thank you in advance)
The worst part---or the second worst part, since the first worst part is obviously the fact that the gazebos will rise up once more and demand a bloody toll for all the years of peace they bestowed on their less-than-grateful adherents---is that Mark Jr. has to eventually come down off the stage. He has to stick his poster-board charts under his arm, and catch the bus, take that to the train, and then wait for his cousin Sam to pick him up at the station.
He has to go to family dinner. That's definitely the second worst part, after the probable large-scale slaughter.
There's nothing Mark hates more than the sight of the whole Pavillion clan, gathered around the table. Boasting about their recent schemes to coax garage bands out from basements, charm puppeteers into taking a gig that's long past any child's bedtime. They are the Pavillions, after all! Marcus Pavillion the First was there, he worked with President Washington himself to create the first American gazebo; he corresponded with the Italian masters of the casina, married a woman from the Bavarian Schöns ("The Dianatempel was ours, did you know?" Mark's mother liked to say at parties, then smile coyly.) The Pavillions have been keepers almost as long as there have been structures to keep, theirs is a rich and storied history.
........Mark does not appreciate this. Mark spends most of his time at the kid's table, trying to avoid conversation about whether gazebos prefer to eat in solitary dignity, or to tear into a visiting chamber ensemble with a full audience. It makes him uncomfortable when Kimmy, his youngest cousin, starts scrawling red lines around her smiling clown---"He's being eaten!" she says cheerfully.
Mark does not ask follow up questions.
The problem---after problems one and two, already mentioned---is that he doesn't know if there's any stopping this. With the odd exception (e.g., the 2004 incident that resulted in Hurridge, Minnesota being carefully removed from US maps) gazebos seem content these days to snack on the occasional piano player, with a couple rambunctious kids as an digestif. But Mark has been tracking these things. He knows that the incidents are gathering closer together, both in time and in location. He knows they're getting less easy to predict, less easy to hide, less easy to excuse. His family might sit around the table and complain about keeping 4-5 gazebos happy, but Marcus Pavillion died trying to appease just one. Those times will come again---are coming. Are here. Mark's got the numbers to prove it.
Walking back from the bus stop, Mark finds himself looking up and---suddenly stops dead outside a lot that's been vacant almost as long as he's lived in this neighborhood. There's a safety fence around the property now, and silhouetted in the light is a brand new sign. UNDER CONSTRUCTION, the sign states, above a sketchy outline of a park. COMING SOON!
In the center of the picture sits a gazebo.
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Planet Earth 2023 || Part Two
Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, fighting, fluff, cursing, slow burn
Word count: 2.1k
A/N: Thank you for reading. Please like, comment, and share!
part one
part three
part four
part five
part six
You raced back inside just in time to close and lock the sliding glass door. The space pirate sprinted into the door but was knocked down by its own brutal force. Your home has hurricane-proof doors and windows, so naturally they would have been resistant to space pirates as well.
As you got a better look at the space scoundrel, your mouth dropped open in a flabbergasted "O." The alien did, in fact, have the appearance of an alien. It didn't look or sound somewhat human like Mando did. It was an ash brown color, and rather than a chin, it had long tassels growing out of its face.
As Mando inspected your back door from his position next to you, he emitted a small sound of appreciation. He continued, "I'm starting to really like this place," as he pulled you away from the doorway just as the pirate started to scramble to his feet.
It slipped your mind that you left two of your front windows open this morning to let in some of the cool breeze. “Mando, check the windows in the front of the house and make sure they’re closed!” You called out, pointing him in the right direction. You sprinted the other way into your office, punched in the combination to your safe, and pulled out your handgun.
From the sounds of scuffling, it seemed like Mando didn't close one of the windows in time. The space pirate had made it inside your home.
Pew. Pew. Pew.
When you turned back, red and green flashes of light were bursting through the opening to your living room. Were those supposed to be gunshots? Space gunshots. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip, stifling a laugh. There was no reason to find the current situation amusing, but today's events were becoming increasingly far-fetched.
You shook your head in fascination as you removed the magazine from the gun, gliding the slide back to check the chamber for rounds in the firing cartridge. You didn't want to look foolish in front of Mando by shooting blanks. You've experienced your fair share of stupidity for the day. The weight of the semi-automatic pistol felt familiar in your hands. It wasn't the first time you'd held it, but it had been quite some time since you'd last used it.
Punches were thrown, and vases fell and shattered against your ceramic tile floors. Not even three hours ago, the atmosphere in your home was completely peaceful and tranquil. It was now bursting with the sounds of grunts, broken glass, and curse words shouted in a language that you didn't understand.
You were captivated by the Mandalorian's agility and speed. He must have taken part in an extensive number of battles while clad in armor. Despite the pirate's substantial size advantage, Mando was able to hold his own against him. And well, you should add. Mando had such grace and confidence in his movements. It seemed like the man was practically dancing.
You needed to concentrate on the task at hand. The baby's safety came first, and then you had to help Mando in his fight against the space pirate. You left your study cautiously but as swiftly as you were capable of in search of the little green one.
The child was hiding behind the ottoman when you spotted him, and he whined as he looked up at you. "It's okay, little one," you reassured him as you crouched down further. "Stay right there."
As you made your way over to the dispute, he simply cooed at your retreating back. Mando's gun was scattered across the living room floor, but he appeared to be winning the hand-to-hand fight. His blows were landing. The pirate appeared disoriented, advancing far more slowly in his pursuit of Mando. Mando threw a powerful punch, but the pirate caught it, used Mando's weight against him, and hurled him against the wall where your Prince poster was hanging.
With an involuntary gasp and a roll of your eyes, you screamed, "Goddamnit!" flailing your arms wildly, "Not my Purple Rain poster!" While music was substantially important to you, nothing could compare to having an original poster signed by The Man himself. The frame shattered under Mando's weight and was now in pieces on the floor.
While you and the pirate were standing there with your weapons drawn, Mando crawled across the floor to get to you. You took aim and fired twice; the first bullet went wide right but the second struck the pirate square in the right shoulder. He grunted in pain but didn't falter as green goop slowly trickled down his front.
Holy shit, you thought. They bleed green, too? Just when you thought you had a grasp on everything space-related, new information was thrown at you.
“Get down!” Mando shouted as he tackled you to the floor behind the couch. As he landed on top of you, you sputtered. He was quick enough to cup your head in his hands before you dropped but you hissed in pain as you absorbed the brunt of his weight. His timing was impeccable. You'd have been shot directly between the eyes had it been a split second later.
"Are you okay?" He inquired, peering down at you. You're not sure why, but you brushed your fingertips across the metal helmet and nodded, "Yes." Through the helmet, you could hear his sharp pants. They were filtered to be quieter than they actually were, but you could still hear them.
A distressed shriek from the baby pulled your gazes apart. You looked back to where you had last seen him, and he wasn't there. Mando peeped over the sofa and stopped in his tracks. Oh, no, you thought. The pirate must have grabbed the baby.
“Shabuir!” Mando hissed as he rushed to his feet, raised his palms in surrender, and took a hesitant step towards the pirate. "Don't hurt the child."
When the pirate saw him move, he yelled, "Don't take another step!"
You inched your way to the far end of the sofa and took a peek at the scene before you. When you saw the pirate holding the baby and pointing his space weapon at Mando, your mouth set into a hard, frigid line.
The alien pirate was so big that you decided to forego your handgun in favor of a shotgun you kept tucked away in your hallway closet. You took advantage of the small window while his attention was focused on Mando to slip away to collect your shotgun. You pulled open the door of the closet, reached inside the hidden left-side compartment, and retrieved your shotgun.
The pirate was harping on about how this was all Mando's fault and how he should have surrendered his ship immediately. From his never-ending speech, it seemed like all he cared about was stealing the ship and showing off to his fellow lousy pirates that he had taken one from a Mandalorian.
"You've lost, Mando," the pirate exclaimed angrily. "How about we make a deal?" — The Razor Crest for this ugly green kid you seem to care so much about," the pirate snarled as he brought the weapon closer to the baby's temple.
This shotgun was far heavier than your handgun, but you still made sure to clutch it correctly behind the grip of the gun with your dominant hand. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress an irritated groan. The space pirate was, once again, a major letdown. His rhetoric resembled that of a villain from Scooby Doo. What? He must have been crazy to think Mando would hand over his stunning ship to some scallywag pirate. The pirate was so full of himself. Even though you wanted to kill him right there, where he stood, you had to make sure the baby was safe first.
"Put the baby down or I'll blast you back to whatever planet you came from," you said as you rounded the corner of the hallway and stood beside Mando, shotgun pointed at the floor. You double-checked that the gun's butt was properly positioned in the crook of your shoulder before aiming it at the pirate.
Mando snatched his gun from the floor and pointed it at the pirate as well, saying, "And put him down gently."
"Now!" you yelled, because he was moving too slowly for you, probably trying to come up with an escape plan, but there wasn't one. You were planning to kill him as soon as the baby was out of the way.
As soon as he placed the baby on the floor, the little one ran over to his dad as fast as his tiny legs could go. Mando scooped him up in one hand, gun still raised at the pirate in the other.
The pirate raised his hands and took a cautious step back, “Just take it easy.”
"You come to my house, attack me and my new friends, and destroy my beloved Prince poster, and I'm supposed to relax?" you sneered carelessly. You made a jerky motion with your head.
“Look lady—“
"—Fuck you!" You barked before flipping the safety off and squeezing the trigger, shooting him once in the chest, and he fell to the floor with a sickening thud, lifeless.
"You've got two blasters?" Mando questioned as he double-checked the pirate’s body before he placed the kid on the ottoman.
He was dead. You had no doubt about it.
You were a single woman living alone in the middle of nowhere in Florida.
Of course you did.
“This is Florida, man. Pretty much everyone has a gun.”
Mando was torn between nodding his head in agreement and shaking it in disbelief.
"Is your baby all right?" You inquired, bending down and running your finger across the baby's cheek.
“Grogu,” said Mando.
You looked up at him in confusion. “What was that?”
“His name is Grogu and yes, he’s okay. Thank you.”
“Grogu.” you said and the baby cooed at you. His enormous eyes and ears, together with his adorable infant babble, melted your heart.
"I would say you're welcome," you said as you rose up and assessed the damage done inside your home, "but those words don't seem appropriate for killin' your first fuckin' alien."
“Dinii,” Mando chuckled softly, shaking his tin head at you.
You cut your eyes at the amused man, “You think this is funny?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “A little.”
"I finally got my vacation time approved," you started ranting, "and on my second night, some enticing masked alien man with his adorable green alien son came crashing in my goddamn front yard."
“You think I’m enticing?” Din asked as he looked you up and down. You had a warm feeling in your chest at your Freudian slip and his question to confirm it. You really hated that you couldn’t see his face.
Never one to shy away from a challenge, a faint smile crossed your face as you nodded and said, "Yeah, I do." You hadn't even known them for a day and you were already smitten with the spaceman and his adorable son.
Mando took a step closer to you before asking, “Can we lay low and stay here with you for a few weeks?”
Oh, what the hell, you thought. It couldn’t get any worse, could it?
You nodded your heat at him, “Sure.”
“Do you want to bury the body or clean up the house first?” Mando asked.
You shrugged and plopped on the sofa beside Grogu. The baby giggled as he tilted a little with your sudden weight. It didn't matter to you which problem y’all cleaned up first, but you needed a few minutes to decompress. The adrenaline was wearing off, and your rattled nerves had your fingers shaking.
The Mandalorian noticed, bent down on one knee in front of you, and took one of your shaking hands in his gloved hand before asking, "Are you okay?" He cupped your chin with his free hand, making you look at what must have been where his eyes were and said, "You aren't hurt, are you?"
You shrugged your shoulders and said, "I wasn't hurt." You squeezed his comforting hand and said, "I just never killed anyone before."
"So, that was your first murder, huh?" He asked in a hushed tone, removing one of his gloves so that he could rub tiny circles in the middle of your palm to soothe you. It worked almost immediately. You could only nod, unable to string together a complete thought. You were surprised with how gentle he was being with you.
“How about you let me do the killing from here on out?” He said, still caressing your palm even though you stopped trembling minutes ago. You weren't going to say anything about it. It felt too good. It had been far too long since you had been touched in this way, or actually touched at all.
You let out a deep sigh and said, "Sounds good to me."
#please like comment and share 🫶🏾#din djarin#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin fanfic#din djarin x you#din djarin x y/n#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fluff#my fics#pe2023
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AI LESS WHUMPTOBER DAY THREE ISOLATED
support and engagement would really motivate me to help post and work on the rest of this stuff!
(@ailesswhumptober)
You stretch your arms up in the air as you yawn, rolling out of your bed on the Astral Express. The memories of last night are hazy, but you don’t linger on it as you head to your ensuite bathroom to freshen up for the day.
When you make to step out into the passenger car, pulling on the door handle, it doesn’t budge.
Odd.
Maybe March was playing a prank on you or something?
You call out for March, Dan Heng, PomPom, Mr Yang, Himeko, to no avail. You try the handle once again, before trailing back to your bed, picking up your cellphone to message the Astral Express group chat.
Your phone turns off with a click and you let out a frustrated sigh. Walking back to the door you rest your ear against the panel and listen for any signs they’re out and about.
Nothing.
With not much to do you plop back onto your bed, clicking open your phone to doom scroll until something happens.
You hadn’t known the express had docked. Though why Pompom would land at a planet hostile to… your kind?, humans?, or perhaps something to do with just discrimination. They claim you’re their favorite passenger, so it had to have been an emergency for them to stop… at whatever this planet is.
Your blinds had been closed for the night, and you think better of opening them, but you peek out from the bottom.
It looks like any other planet’s railway. Nothing looks odd or out of place; no ‘humans dni’ signs or posters. You wonder how they’re getting by, your crew, they’re all human-oid, no?
There’s a long period of waiting, maybe an hour, maybe more. Then there’s footsteps, heavy and en masse. Not just the Astral Express crew. These are the sounds of heavy boots, those of soldiers. You can hear March’s distinct tone, so it’s not a raid or something uncouth, she’s at least somewhat calm.
“—and these are the sleeping quarters! They’re all empty at the moment.” They’re getting closer. When they’re outside your door, strangers, hostile on sight to you specifically, “this room is empty. We can’t let you check his one room, sorry!” March giggles.
“We keep unstable synthesis materials in there.” Dan Heng explains levelly. “It would take too long to safely have you search it, we’ll be gone before you’d be finished suiting up.”
There’s a feminine voice replying in a language foreign to you.
“There’s no need for that, we’re leaving within the hour.” Welt.
Your heart stutters and you hold your breath as a hand jiggles your door handle.
“Let’s move along,” Dan Heng’s voice is firm and the shadows peering in from under your door disappear. His voice commands the enemy soldiers away from your door and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.
The soldiers soon file off the ship and your door unlocks with a click and Dan Heng opens it. His body fills in the door frame, stopping March 7th from running in.
“Dan Heng,” she whines, shoving him inside your room so she can bound over to your bed and jump next to you.
Himeko peeks her head inside, “Pompom says we’re taking off soon. Settle down you three.”
“Yes, Ms. Himeko~!” March giggles.
“Sorry about not warning you, we hadn’t prepared to land here.” Welt says from the hallway, looking at you. “We needed an emergency refuel before we could stop at the Xianzhou Luofu. I apologize for any alarm this extrusion may have caused you.”
“Thank you Mr Yang, I’m fine now. It was a little scary at first.” You laugh a little.
“Excuse me!” Pompom shoves past Himeko and Welt’s legs, waddling their little body into your room. They clamber up your bed and smother you in a hug. “Pompom is so sorry for landing here!”
“Aw, it’s okay Pompom. No harm no foul,” you pat their fluffy ears.
Their large eyes seek yours for a moment before they nod and hop off your bed, heading to the captain’s chamber.
“We’re leaving now. You all,” they deliberately look at all the passengers gathered around your room. “Get seated.”
#verified hyperfixat post#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x trailblazer#hsr x reader#ai less whumptober#ailesswhumptober#ailesswhumptober2023#ailesswhumptoberday3
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Merman
Leorio x male reader
Bondage, “drowning”, kidnapping, obsessing, Aladdin x HunterXHunter crossover, (male reader) calling Leorio princess, (male reader) being mean, not proof read
Intro: Oh no prince Leorio went missing! I wonder what happened… I hope he’s save or at least okay…
Requested?: Yes/No by anonymous
“Okay mister that will be $2.50! And I hope you fish or fishes enjoy the food!” You hand the cashier the money and thanked her. Walk back to your house you overheard interesting conversation.
“Have you heard?” Said the lady with brown hair “Heard what exactly?” Answer the blonde next to her. “The disappearances of prince Leorio! Haven’t you heard about it? It’s all over town.” The brown hair lady points at the missing poster and the guards, “the poor guards have to work overtime to try to find him…”
“Oh that! Yea people said that he was ambush on the way here.” the blonde lady said, “I hope they can find him.”,”me too.” The two lady’s drifts off in the distance.
You thought about what the lady’s said and you also hope that he gets found because who knows what will happen. You continue to walk to the house too finish what you started.
You walk down too your private chambers and open the door to see a young male bound to the wall with metal cuff and a gag in his mouth. He had on a dark blue harem pants with gold around the the waist and ankles, a dark blue and gold trenchcoat with sharp shoulder blades that expose his upper half, and a golden head-piece.
You walk up to the male and lifted up his chin. “Wakey, wakey princess” you shaked the male trying to wake him up faster because you are not a a very patient person. You hear a groan come from him, “princess I hear you it’s time to get up now!”
The male looks around shocked and try’s to said something but falls. “Here let me help you” you take the gag off to let him talk. “Where…where am I a-and who are you! Do you know who ~ahh~ ..I am ~haa~ P-prince Leorio!”, you kneel down with your hands on your face then you slightly turn your head.
“Do you think I care that your ‘prince Leorio’? Because I don’t but~ it does seem like the medicine they gave you is kicking in” you smiled then continue, “but let’s put this gag back on!”
Leorio started to struggle against you and you started to get upset. “If you don’t stop moving Princess and let me put this gag back on.” You told the guards in the back to tighten the chains. when they were done to put the gag over his mouth.
So! Now that we got that done with… Let’s see what choice you will make—~hmm~” you looked at the prince and squinting your eyes then continue to talk. “Okay don’t interrupt me~ahm~ you know what never mind”
You turned the other away and talked about your plan and how Leorio has only two options and he’s moaning in the background...*sigh*, One was he doesn’t accept the proposal and he will get a consequence, the second option is that he accept the proposal and both of them live out there last days together and happy! 
You turned back around to see your “Princess” giving you lovey-dovey eyes. You kneel back down to his height and asked him a question, “so what do you choose?”
You looked into Leorio eye to only notice he’s looking at your lips. You lift up his chin and said “eyes up here pretty boy” smiling at him. 
Leorio snapped out of the trance and violently shook his head no. You forcefully took your hand off his face to get up, look at him, and snarl. “Put him over the water”
At the guards put the prince over the water but become you walked over there you grabbed a necklace.
As you walked up the stairs to him you asked him one more time if this is what he wanted to choose. He shook his head slowly due to the medication taken over.
*sighs* “fine have it your way” you got over to him and as put the necklace on him you talked. “All you had too do was love me back. Yet you choose not too.” You walked down the stairs and continue.
“You could of just pretended and I would have been satisfy… Yet! You choose too be a stubborn brat” you finally get to the last step and turned to Leorio to look straight in his eyes and finally said your last sentence to him.
“So… next time, pick the right choice” you quickly turned your head to the guard holding the rope and gave him the signal and the prince drop in the water.
“Cover the tank before he gets out and pour the fish food in there too.. he may get hungry” you smiled as you saw Leorio in the water fully taken by the medicine.
“Look at my merman, isn’t he beautiful?”


#male reader#yandere x male reader#yandere male reader#hxh x reader#hxh leorio#hxh 1999#hxh fanfic#yandere#request#hunter x hunter#hunter x 2011#yandere male x reader#yandere male x male reader#yandere x reader#leorio#leorio x reader
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Knight Out on Downtown Dialtown
Knight rider x Dialtown. Good fuckin' luck.
The alley behind Bunny’s burger joint is dingy. The signs plastered everywhere for people to “get their own trash” don’t make it any better. Actually, the gap between brick-and-mortar stores is surprisingly full-up with random filler, but the taped posters and graffiti can’t obscure the rank scent or the squelch of mud and refuse pounded into the cracked pavement. At the very least, it’s well lit, and the only major obstacle doubles as your destination.
A dumpster. A violet, heavily tagged dumpster, which— if the locals were to be believed— also doubled as a rental.
You hesitate, though. You lean back against your car, letting your head tilt back until the back of your helmet rests against the t-top structure. Red text appears in the corner of your visor, bringing a wry smile to your face.
This place is awful, Michael. Surely no one actually lives here?
You’re no good at texting back. “He pays rent and everything, KITT,” you say aloud.
You have to be careful not to activate the external mic. Thank GodPhone-God that Bonnie had deigned to add a toggle. Gave you and KITT some privacy while you both struggled your way through the city, whose populace was… interesting. Definitely jarring. Made you itchy, too. The racing helmet you and KITT chose is heavy and hot, the air cooling unable to keep up all of the time. And, well. You’ve both been running at orange since you rode in.
“Michael,” KITT imposes quietly. “We should find that Mr. Jade. That way, if he isn’t here, we can go to a car wash. Or a decontam chamber.”
Fuck. You unfurl yourself away from KITT’s chassis and stretch until your spine cracks. Your shuffling echoes.
The button to hit the mic takes a few chin waggles to fully depress. You hope the tell-tale clicking doesn’t tip people off anytime soon.
“Is there a Randal Jade here? Oh, that’s loud, KI—”
KITT, did you put on the amplifier, goes unspoken, because you bite your tongue. Your voice still rattles the alley, having been pitched way louder than necessary.
Yes, KITT messages plainly.
The dumpster rattles ominously. Trash goes flying as someone pops out from the top, bandaged, bloodied hands gripping the corrugated metal. KITT quickly identifies the Phonehead as a Nokia 3410 which you know is more for his benefit than yours. It just also happens to be Randal’s.
Why does he have “fuckface” scrawled on his head? KITT sends.
How the hell are you supposed to know? You’re wondering that yourself as you wait for Randal to get situated. He seems to struggle, or maybe your shouting disoriented him. Way to go, Michael.
“Um, hey there,” Randal says, slightly breathless. “I’m— I’m Randal Jade. You should just call me Randy, though. Am I in trouble?”
“No, no, no, Randy. You’re not in trouble!” You hurry to placate him for some reason. “I’m Michael Knight. I’m with the Foundation. Why don’t you, uh, come outside so we can talk?”
Randy puffs himself up slightly. Or as much as he can. He seems to be getting the shakes, propping himself up this long over the edge of the dumpster.
“Why don’t YOU come inside? So we can talk? Since this is my house and all…”
He’s got you there, KITT whispers in your ear.
You don’t honor KITT with a response. You both know that getting into that humble abode is not a fucking option.
“Do you really want me to come inside, Randy?”
Randy sighs and hefts one leg over. He falls to the ground in a heap. The thud isn’t as heavy as it probably should be.
“No, not really,” Randy says, staring up at the sky.
You approach him, offering a hand up. You’re not sure if he makes any sort of eye-contact, but his buttons and dim screen stare into your visor for what seems like an eternity before he accepts the help. The bandages are slimy against your palm. Sweat is visibly running down his neck.
KITT wordlessly provides a visual of Randy’s body and relevant vitals. Diagnosis? Some kind of terrified. He probably thinks you’re a cop.
Randy gets his feet under him, but you can’t stop yourself from giving him a pat down or hanging onto his elbows a little too long. You have a feeling if you don’t play your cards right, he’ll crumple into a wet paper ball…
If you think he is riding in my cabin, you are mistaken.
“Thanks… for that,” Randy says.
“Uh, yeah. No problem. Uh. Right. I’m Michael. From the Foundation. Apparently, you may be the only witness to a crime. I need your help.”
Randal stares up at you. He seems to shrink back slightly. You have to step back so his head doesn’t knock against your helmet as he bows it meekly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. “I didn’t see any crimes.”
“That’s the thing! You did! It was just a very plain-sight crime and are you actively bleeding through your bandages?”
You can’t help yourself. You’re too wound up to not notice the spreading red on his hands, even as he tries to hide them. Even KITT is highlighting the issue, which seems to be taking precedence over his distaste in being in this situation.
His hands and arms appear to be covered in bite marks. I cannot identify what from.
“When am I not bleeding through my bandages?” Randy asks, laughing a little. “You know how it is. Work runs out of first aid supplies…Just can’t keep up with PURE, UNFILTERED AVIAN RAGE. And how bad I am at wrangling them…”
He shrinks back in on himself, arms wrapped around his body, hands tucked away. His voice had swelled with momentary bravado that immediately cracked on the vowel and kept breaking all the way down.
You’re glad the helmet hides your expressions. But it also impedes your impulse control. You delicately grab Randy’s wrist and tug him toward not just yourself, but KITT, whose wheels crunch audibly against the pavement.
“Michael,” KITT says warningly.
Randy squawks and tries to bolt. You clamp down on him, and he’s not even heavy enough to pull on you.
“What— who was that?” Randy whispers.
You ignore him.
“KITT, come on. The IFAK’s still in there, right? It doesn’t even have to be inside the car—”
“I didn’t have covert murder on the list of ways I was going to die,” Randy says, “and I’m not sure if it’s better than the swans.”
“Murder? Michael, he thinks you’re going to kill him!”
“I— I’m not! Randy, who would even want to kill you?”
What is GOING ON. You didn’t even mean to say that, but Randy takes it and runs, gesturing with his free hand and mumbling incoherently. In your peripheral, you see KITT start to inch backwards, utilizing his “Silent Mode” for all it’s worth, apparently.
“KITT! Remember what you said about the public transit!” You cry out, marching after him.
“Who’s KITT?” Randy squeaks as he stumbles after you.
You debate asking why KITT even broke cover, considering their circumstances, but you have a feeling you know why. There’s no way you’re getting Randy back to the hotel on foot, after all, but both this alley-way and Randy’s, uh, eau de Desperation, will never get out of the upholstery. It’s never getting out of your clothing, either. So.
KITT makes a retching sound in your ear. New and gross. You don’t know if you should praise him for learning a new trick or scold him for making you sympathy-gag. But as you determinedly drag Randy behind you, KITT rolls to a stop and pops both doors.
“Randy—” You start.
“Kidnapping has to be, a, uh, vertical movement right? In terms of living conditions?” Randy asks.
You don’t say anything. His bandages aren’t even well-applied, really. KITT probably would have told you if he was infected, though.
Not even Devon can get you out of kidnapping and murder charges, KITT messages. It takes all of your willpower not to react.
“I never did agree to come with you,” Randy clarifies. “But we both know I’m not strong enough to get away, so why bother! This might as well happen!”
That… would make it kidnapping. You did plan on taking him to a second location. His injuries just threw you out of sorts. Even more out of sorts than you already were, and KITT’s sheer distaste for the current mission, well. Maybe you should take it from the top.
Very gently, you kneel down, clasping his hand more tightly between your own. Waterfowl, sweat, and fear would presumably be flooding your nostrils if not for the very over-engineered helmet over your head. You drag your thumb across his knuckles.
“Randy. I am serious. You can help us with this case. I just can’t let an injured man bleed out on my watch. Let me help you. So you can help us.”
Randy’s fingers wrap around yours. His free hand scrabbles at the back of his head’s paneling, apparently embarrassed by your display of chivalry. A tiny, aborted beeping sound filters out from within.
“Wow. You— you know what? Okay. Okay. I’ll go with you. If it’ll really help,” Randy says.
For some reason, you get the distinct impression he’s blushing. Maybe because his neck turns a darker pink, now that you can see it from the ground. Your pant legs are ruined, actually. Why did you do this?
Randal’s vitals have heightened. I dare say he’s attracted to you.
“You would know,” you mutter internally.
I heard that. Hurry up. This alleyway is going to ruin me.
To your surprise, Randy helps you back to your feet. The effort makes him visibly wilt and more sweat pours off of him in waves. Delicately, you nudge him over to KITT’s passenger door, which is still ajar.
“This is KITT, by the way. He’s my partner. Are you familiar with the hotel?”
Randy throws you an odd look, or what has to qualify as an odd look with a Nokia for a head. But he pries open the door and peers inside, hesitant. You cross around to the driver’s side and unceremoniously dump yourself in.
KITT’s voicebox is looking more like a face everyday.
“…Which hotel? Um, uhh…”
You decide to give him a minute while you look for the IFAK and manually take KITT out of silent mode. He gives you a low tone of reproach in your helmet, but quiets down as he apparently cottons on to how the low whine of the turbine soothes you.
“Hello, Randal,” KITT says.
Randy chirps.
“Are you— the car?”
“That is close enough for now, yes. You’re in good hands now.”
You throw a suspicious look at KITT’s vocoder, which pulses in time to his voice. He’s speaking lower and smoother than usual, and your skin prickles oddly. First, he blows cover, then he starts flirting? Maybe you’ll let him keep it up. See where it goes.
“Am- am I? Hey, maybe I should just get out and walk… I just realized your interior is REALLY clean and—”
KITT lurches forward with a rip of his engine. You snatch the steering yoke to at least pretend you’re driving before he truly hands you manual control. Sedately, you nose back out onto the streets. Dialtown traffic has wound down somewhat.
“Do not. Worry. About that,” KITT lies, in a tone of voice that says Randy should be worrying about it.
Far more kindly: “Why don’t we begin with your day? We could start with the swans.”
One of KITT’s screens starts showing a black-and-white rendition of a swan. It has a paper shredder for a head.
You should be commended for driving like nothing is wrong. You didn’t see the paper-shredder fowl when you had scoped out the park. Too busy losing it over the condition of the grass at the time (and chasing Little Billy away from KITT; he had… interesting vocabulary).
Randy sinks low into the seat to accommodate his… head. Phone. He trembles visibly, presumably in agony.
“We have time if it’s a long story,” KITT says coaxingly.
“KITT—” You start on the internal mic.
You proposed to him first. I am merely following through.
“And I’ve heard that one before…”
Randy’s hands move and writhe as he stops and starts, clearly trying to pick his way through— whatever got him into his specific mess in the first place. It’s going to be a long drive back to Uptown Dialtown.
#dialtown#knight rider#k.i.t.t.#randy jade#kitt#michael knight#gunny writes#you wish this was a normal fanfiction
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Play Among The Stars
Read on AO3
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Relationship:Ekko/Jinx (Timebomb)
Word Count:2,227
Tags: Angst, Established Relationship, Firelight Member Jinx, Bittersweet
Summary:
"Am I your girl?" Jinx asked softly.
Ekko sat and stared at her for a minute.
The two cities was on a verge of civil war, Enforcers invaded The Lanes looking for her, and riots happens were an almost daily occurrence.
The world as they knew it was shattered because of her actions.
Author's Note:
As kids, Jinx and her siblings going out to do jobs while Ekko usually stayed behind.
Now as adults, Jinx takes Ekko to Piltover for the first time.
I completely forgot about this idea until I talked to @redrum-alice. Go check out their art! It's amazing🫶♥️
Thank you @su-univeralai for beta reading!
Fic's Playlist💚💙
It's been a few months since Jinx bombed the council chambers.
The Enforcers and residents have been on high alert ever since, never knowing when the blue-haired menace would strike again.
Her wanted posters were plastered everywhere in Piltover and Zaun, yet no one has seen her since.
A new, bigger barricade was built on the bridge. There was an influx of Enforcers patrolling the streets below and terrorizing The Lanes on a daily basis.
Unbeknownst to them, a monkey mask and owl were in the shadows peering over the edge of the highest roof.
Jinx chuckled as she zoomed in on them with her lens, she lightly smacked his arm. "Look at those dumbasses," her mask distorted her voice to be more high-pitched and robotic.
"Sooo busy monitoring the potential terror from below that they're clueless from the threat from up above."
Ekko hummed in agreement, "I remember. You told me that after you bombed the Enforcers, you strolled in to get the gemstone." His mask contrasted with how his voice modulator deepened his voice.
Jinx guffawed. "I did! Those dummies were so cocky by not adding extra security to their prized possession. But I showed them!" She bragged.
"And that you didn't have a disguise," Ekko added.
Jinx shrugged, "I already use spray paint to draw and trademark my work. There was no way I was gonna let some chump claim the biggest robbery in history."
He pursed his lips and faintly nodded as if to say, 'Fair enough'.
He stared up at the sky. The stars and moon were much more visible on this side.
Jinx took off her mask, inhaling deeply with a sigh, "Breathe in that fresh, Piltie air, Little Man. This was what you've been missing." She stretched her arms out and twirled.
Ekko did the same, their air was more breathable than the dense smog they were used to inhaling growing up.
He clenched his fist and glared at the sky. They've turned something as simple as clean air into a fucking luxury.
Her magenta eyes always glowed softly in the night, with small blue veins around the corners.
When he thought she died on the bridge a part of him died too. They were a permanent reminder of how even though he kicked the bomb, he failed to save her. Again.
You should have done better. She almost died. If you were successful then she wouldn't have needed shimmer to save her life.
Fuck, If you could have found another way of convincing her to leave Silco then we would have still been friends. We wouldn't have fought on the bridge in the first place.
Jinx's giddy chuckling brought him out of his thoughts. "You think I've become their version of the Boogie Man?"
The corners of his mouth twitched, "The Boogie Man?" He repeated wryly.
"Yeah, like," she stood upright with her arm behind her back.
"Listen to your parents, kids," She said in a gruff voice, wagging her finger as she paced.
"Do your chores, eat your vegetables, do your homework, and go to bed on time. Or else the big, bad Jinx will crawl through your window and get ya!" She snickered then cracked up.
She wore a wide, playful smile. He loved the small gap in her teeth and freckles adorning her face. It was adorable.
But back to the topic at hand, it made Ekko scoff.
Just yesterday while out in the market gathering supplies, he and his brothers helped intervene with Enforcers harassing a vendor and his family.
"I think they've been using us Zaunites as monsters for their bedtime stories for years. They just have a name and face to it now," He said.
"Besides, they're more a threat to us than anything. They've always been."
"Exactly!" She pointed at him. "They never cared about us. They've always ignored us until I made it known that we can fuck their shit up. We can ruin everything just like they did for us."
We.
He didn't doubt that someone from the Undercity could attempt to start another revolt on how mistreated they'd been for decades.
It just so happened that the one who lit the fuse was his best friend.
Ekko sat down with his arm on his knee, "Do you ever regret it?"
Jinx's eyes momentarily widened before they narrowed at him, "Why would you ask that? I know you aren't going soft on the Pilties."
His lips curled, and he wrinkled his nose, "Of course not."
"I know you wouldn't. But why would you ask that? I'm just confused."
"It's just that if you didn't, you wouldn't be a fugitive. You'd be free."
She would have liked that.
Her and Ekko, hand in hand without a care in the world. They would be able to go on dates like everyone else - doing a little PDA while they were at it.
They would have been able to go to more places than their Firelight base, shimmer raids, her hideout, and now atop a rooftop in Piltover.
She frowned then sat next to him, "It's true. I do miss being able to wander around like I used to." She linked their arms and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"I wish we could go on dates in public. You wouldn't have to worry about being arrested with me," She murmured then sighed softly.
She shook her head and quickly licked her lips before she got her answer out. "But, I don't regret killing them. Those bastards had it coming for years," She affirmed.
"If I didn't do it then someone else in The Lanes would have. I just happened to be the one brave enough to do something about it.
They don't treat us like people. They've always treated us like abused animals. They watch us struggle through cages, laughing at how uncivilized we are compared to them," she squeezed his arm tightly.
"They've enjoyed our suffering for too long. Enjoyed keeping us in check about who really is in charge of everything. There's only so much a person can take before they snap."
Her eyes seemed to glow brighter. Her lips pulled back into a snarl and her nostrils flared as she breathed heavily.
He didn't say anything for a minute and stared at her.
There was a threat of civil war between the two cities. Enforcers have flooded The Lanes determined to find the domestic terrorist. Riots between them and Zaunites were an almost daily occurrence.
He had one or three drinks - he loved his people, but sometimes he wanted alone time to de-stress - he was leaving the bar when he saw them.
The two women were searching for her.
Caitlyn relayed what happened at the canary, her hatred for Jinx was evident even under her calm tone. Her eyes were determined as she informed him about what happened.
They were a stark contrast to Vi, who had acquired bags under her eyes with her hair slightly mussed. She asked if he had seen her little sister anywhere.
Jinx told him about the tea party. He told them he hadn't seen her since that night on the bridge.
It was to protect Jinx.
It was also to keep both women safe from her.
The consequences of Jinx's actions were the reason why their entire world was on the brink of collapse.
Her heart stalled when he removed his arm.
What did I do wrong? Is he mad at me? Disappointed? I’ve never seen him disappointed in me before. There's no reason for him to. Is there? He wanted to know how I felt, and I answered honestly.
Gosh. This was supposed to be a date. Talking about the state of affairs of two stupid cities is definitely not romantic.
Her worries were quickly dispelled when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him.
Maybe they should have waited. Then it would be that person's problems instead of Jinx's. But even then, she would still be wanted for murdering those Enforcers.
Ultimately, he couldn't change the past. He had to live through the present.
Despite everything that was happening, he loves her.
He was in love with her since he was fourteen, and he loved her now. No matter how messy things were, he would forever be thankful to have her back in his life.
She glanced at him and gently knocked her knee against his. He spread his legs to make room for her, she moved to sit in between them, resting her legs on top of his.
Her hand cupped his nape and the back of his head as she pressed their foreheads together.
"Am I your girl?" She asked softly.
He always thought he would die with his unrequited crush. He was too nervous to tell her as kids, then everything in their lives fell apart.
She wanted him out of her life, so they went their separate ways.
They only met each other on the battlefield. He knew it was foolish, but a part of him still longed and cared for her.
But seven years later, the impossible happened- a miracle if you will. They were currently entranced by the other's presence.
He cradled her cheeks, his thumb rubbing comforting circles. "You will always be my girl. Nothing will ever change that, Jinx. I promise," He asseverated.
She leaned into his touch and smiled, her eyes softening.
She already knew the answer, but her heart swelled with pride and filled her with such an immense amount of warmth in her entire being from hearing him confirm it.
She brushed a stray dreadlock from his eyes and pushed it behind his ear. She ran her tongue slowly across her lips.
She darted her gaze into his eyes, he closed them, his heart pounding in anticipation as he waited eagerly for her.
She placed her soft, purple lips tenderly around the edges of his mouth and lingered.
A decidedly pleasant shiver ran down his spine as her tongue slowly glided across his lower lip.
Her teeth caught onto his lower lip, gentle tugging switched to lightly sucking them. He felt her smirk on his lip as she drew out a quiet moan from him.
She had barely done anything, yet excitement burst within him as it was the first time they kissed.
It didn't matter how many times they did this, he always craved her. His heart, mind, body, and even his very soul belonged to her.
She was alive.
She was here.
And she loves you.
She wants you as much as you want her.
Only her.
She released his lip, faintly brushing hers against his.
He leaned in to finally connect their mouths, but he opened his eyes when she covered his mouth with her hand and wore a cheshire grin.
"You gotta admit though, I came up with the best date idea," She boasted.
He suppressed his groan of disappointment. She can be such a tease when she wants to be.
He rolled his eyes as he held her wrist to move her hand away. He let out an amused huff, "Alright. No need to make it a contest."
"Because you'd know I’d win." She gently wiggled his wide nose in between her fingers and then flicked it.
She giggled as she got up to stand and slapped a hand over her mouth to conceal her startled laugh. Ekko had smacked her ass as payback.
She glared at him over her shoulder. "Stop you perv! Gods," She chastised playfully, swatting his hand away.
He chuckled mischievously, biting his lower lip that failed to restrain his cheeky grin.
She shook her head and tittered. She's been rubbing off on him.
"Piltover this," she held her right hand and moved her hips in that direction. "Zaun that," she held her left hand and repeated the action.
"Forget about them!" She clapped her hands then spun around in his direction. "I feel like dancing!"
"But there's no music."
"Yeah, there is. Our voices can make music. It's called singing!"
He snickered, "Fair point. What did you have in mind, Sugarbomb?"
"Hmmmmm...." she pressed her finger against her lips, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
A grin broke out and she clapped her hands together. "I got it. Hold on," she cleared her throat and hit her chest for good measure.
"Fly me to the moon. And let me play among the stars," she gestured to the sky.
"Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. In other words, hold my hand," she offered her hands.
Ekko held them and she helped him stand. She placed her hands on his shoulder as he put his on her waist.
"In other words," she looked at her boyfriend expectantly.
Ekko chuckled softly. "Baby, kiss me," He sang.
Jinx stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
They continued like that, singing to each other while swaying gently.
They got lost in each other's eyes and never wanted to be found.
Everything and everyone disappeared. Nothing else mattered because they were the only people in the world at that moment.
They could momentarily forget the harsh reality of the world as they danced.
They were a couple enjoying a romantic night under the moonlight and stars.
Two lovers.
A woman with her man.
A fugitive with her harborer.
#timebomb#ekkojinx#ekko#jinx#frelight jinx#arcane#arcane fanfic#fanfiction#my post#my fics#my writing#angst#gift fic
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Dignified Discussion
Bardish Undergound Parliamentary Boxing, In Brief.
Thank you @lividdreamz for giving me a reason to turn this little blurb into something more substantial! It's objectively one of my more... outlandish, Worldbuilding points, and always one I've been unsure about making canon, but if I were to, this would be what it looks like.
Tagging @athenswrites @theprissythumbelina @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @thatndginger @avrablake @username-cause-i-need-one @nerdexer
The Practice
Bardish Underground Parliamentary Boxing is a political phenomenon historically practiced by elected members of the Parliament of the Republic of Bardin. Tracing its roots to the very dawn of Bardish democracy and nationhood, its modern form bears little resemblance to how it began.
The practice manifests primarily in single combat between Members of similar stature and standing in the House. The combatants wear their usual Parliamentary attire, and fight bare knuckle without any form of weaponry. Such engagements traditionally take place within any of the myriad spare rooms and empty spaces of Parliaments chambers, and are solely witnessed by other elected members of the House as witnesses and supporters of either side.
The History
The motivations behind the duels themselves has evolved remarkably over the Republic's history, as has their intensity.
The lands now united and named 'Bardin' are no stranger to political violence, and much blood was shed by even its most democratic minded actors in their attempt to bring it all together. Sharp political divisions marked every facet of government in the nation's earliest years, despite the best efforts of its democratic framework to keep it civil. Outbursts of violence between elected representatives of historically aggrieved regions were not uncommon, and in such an inflamed public environment could spill outwards into the streets and country.
The institution of formalised, highly confidential 'duelling', was thus created in an attempt to ensure that whatever hostilities existed between representatives were settled between closed doors. This decision was made in the aftermath of the most publicly dramatic incident of elected violence yet seen, when a large brawl broke out in the aisles and seats of Parliament's own chambers. Discretion, it was decided, would spare everyone a great deal of embarassment.
The general trend in Parliamentary Boxing from then to the present day has reflected the increasing 'normalisation' of the Republic's internal politics and society. Disputes over appointments within the Government of the day and over specific legislation were and remain major 'motivators' for hostile parties to request a few minutes in a windowless room, but it is now generally accepted that the outcome of their 'spirited debate' should have no impact on the actual business of government. Thus, they are usually scheduled to occur after the decision in question has already been resolved.
The Films
As the underlying aggression behind Bardish politics has waned, Boxing has increasingly taken on the role of political spectacle. Bouts taking place in accordance with the above traditions but for no further reason than the entertainment or exercise of the sparring parties would grow to outnumber those fueled by genuine grievances, and have become an unofficial spectator sport amongst the Republic's elected members, complete with judges and commentators narrating the duels.
Of course, the existence of the practice would not remain secret for too long, but by the time the rumours had been elevated from 'conspirational slander' to 'commonly accepted truth', Bardish society at large would quietly accept its occurrence. This subtle, mutually unspoken existence would be blown out of the water, with the invention of the motion film.
Soon after that innovation was brought to light, Bardish Members would for reasons lost to history request for their exploits to be recorded for posterity. At some point not long after, one Member, having witnessed a rival's defeat in a bout, would leak a copy of the film to a famously sensationalist agency of the Press, who duly publicised the affair in hopes of raising a scandal which would discredit the losing boxer.
That, would not be the case.
With how widespread the myth of 'Undergound Boxing' within Parliament had become, few were particularly shocked by the revelation, though much humour was found in the manner of its release. Both parties involved in tape, having moved on from their grievances, would step forwards to issue a joint statement which reflected their amity and mutual respect. While the identity of the 'Leak' would never be discovered, the press agency in question would be publicly ridiculed for its continued attempts to take advantage of the tape, and eventual close down for good.
With this sudden and entirely unexpected reveal of boxers in the halls of Parliament, the practice would evolve once again. The majority of bouts, wisely, still take place behind closed doors, and their results remain private. Public bouts for all to see, however, have been invented as a form of informal ceremony between Members, often used to commemorate the retirement of close colleagues from public service. Across the rest of the United Commonwealth, the practice has yet to catch on, except for where Bardish representatives to the Parliament of the UC choose to engage in it. It is seen as a strange, novel oddity of the Bardish people, and one many Bardish take great pride in.
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Claws - Azula x gn reader - part 1
Part 2: here [main masterlist]
Azula x gn reader, tw: Slight violence (a punch resulting in a bleeing nose), that's it
Also thank you to that friend with no tumblr account for coming up with the title (:
3.461 words, english isn't my first language so please forgive me for any mistakes there might be :)
The noise of the festivities on the main streets could be heard even in your chamber, making it hard for you to concentrate on your work. You had thought about going to the event happening outside too, especially as there were rumors of royalty being in town, but finishing the report Admiral Zhao had ordered was more important. You had written the tale of this particular battle more times than you could count, as it was one of the greatest victories the admiral ever achieved, the calligraphic and rhetorical skill always exceeding the previous one. High ranking officers often hired you to write of their victories as you never failed to describe their genius and the greatness of the fire nation to its full extent.
Altough you had only started writing a few years ago you had made yourself a name amongst the calligraphers of the fire nation, and it would be a shame to let your reputation be tainted by an order not delivered on time, wouldn't it? You could enjoy the festival later anyways, there was no rush.
But suddenly there was another sound. It didn't come from outside but from within your walls, no doubt. You put your writing tool back into the ink pot and headed to the main room of your workplace. Could it be that you had forgotten to close the library before you had started writing? No, the door was locked, so no one was inside. But what could have made such a sound? It almost sounded like footsteps. You decided to check the shelves, maybe a parchment roll had fallen out, although you would be greatly surprised if it was the case, as it had never happened before.
Before you were able to check anything, you saw an animal appearing behind a shelf. It was a lemur-like creature, you had seen it before in one of the books about animal life in the air temples… wait - the air temples? What did such a creature do here in the fire nation and how did it even get inside your library? You tried getting closer to the animal, in hopes of being able to catch it before it could cause any harm to the old parchments that were stored here. But just as you were about to reach the surprisingly calm creature you were greeted by a boy with arrow-like tattoos on his body, holding two of your most important scrolls on bending, awkwardly smiling and obviously trying to make up an excuse for his presence. You had not even started to think about how he had gotten inside when you saw the window behind him being wide open. You were sure it had been closed when you had last left this room, so he was a proper housebreaker, although he didn't seem too dangerous. As there had never been any burglaries in your house before you were unsure of how to act, but one thing was for sure, you were getting those scrolls back. You decided to give him a chance before calling the guards: "Put those back.". You were impressed at how sharp your voice sounded after hours of silence.
The boy grabbed a long stick as if to defend himself with it, and that was the moment when it hit you. He was the one you had seen on the posters from the government, he was the avatar. Suddenly you were overwhelmed by fear, not for your life, but for your library; one could not know how much damage he was able to cause, how many books could be lost. That did not change your way of handling the situation, though. You were not about to let an enemy of the fire nation steal from your possessions, not without trying to stop him, no matter how powerful.
You stretched out your hand, obviously waiting for him to hand you the scrolls. For a few seconds you waited, but just as you were about to say something again you noticed the avatar grinning at something behind you, accompanied by the sound of footsteps from where he was looking. You turned around only for your face to be met by the fist of another, slightly older boy.
The power of the blow was enough to let you sink to the ground immediately. You needed a few moments to recover; enough time for both boys and a girl that had just now appeared behind another shelf to run towards the window and begin crawling out of it. When you stood up again you didn't even bother chasing them and ran to the door instead, ignoring your bleeding nose. You opened it and screamed for the guards, telling everyone that could hear you that the avatar was here. You saw the guards at the end of the street running in your direction before you could even get started to scream about the theft.
There was someone who looked familiar leading the guards, but before you could make out who it was, you realised something. Since the window the three kids escaped through was leading to your backyard, the street you stood on was their only escape route, and if they reached the next crossing before the guards arrived, they might get away. The only thing standing between them and their escape was you.
For a moment you froze, not daring to imagine what they would do to you if you tried fighting against them, but on the other hand you couldn't simply let them pass you, not with the guards watching you. Your honor was at stake!
So you turned to face the three kids, swallowing thickly. The only hope you had was the sound of the arriving guards from behind you.
The avatar boy noticed your intention and didn't waste any time directing a massive blow of wind in your direction. You gripped onto the door handle to not be blown away entirely, your hand hurting from how tight you clenched the metal. To your surprise you were still standing, but that would not be enough to hold off the avatar, so you focused on anything that could motivate you.
You thought of the fights you had been observing and writing about; there were always soldiers, simple humans facing off against benders, a single one of them strong enough to take on a whole army, but yet the soldiers did not falter and stood against them with nothing but their will to fight for the greater good!
It was a pathetic thought you could achieve anything by doing the same, really, but what choice did you have?
When they finally reached you, you threw your body against the boy that had hit you, because he was carrying the scrolls you needed to protect. He dodged you with ease, letting you run into the air behind him. That was enough. You were not going to let him embarrass you like that with the guards watching. With a terrifying scream that probably scared you as much as the boy, you turned around, grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling as hard as you could to make him fall. It didn't quite work because he hit you again, resulting in you letting him go, but he dropped the scrolls, so it was worth it.
With the scrolls now returned and the kids having taken the next turn, the guards close behind, you finally were able to relax. You hadn't even realised how exhausted you were.
You picked the scrolls up and leaned against the nearest wall, holding your nose to stop the bleeding. You closed your eyes and tried to think about everything that had happened. A task that proved to be very difficult, especially with the noise of the festivities everywhere.
After what felt like a few minutes, you heard a voice again, speaking directly to you: "Let's have a look at what the ever so great Avatar was so interested in, shall we." Curious to whom that beautiful voice belonged to you opened your eyes, and they soon grew wide in shock. Before you stood the person that had led the guards, the person that looked familiar because you had seen her in various pictures before. Princess Azula. You bowed as deep as your hurting body allowed and extended your arms to hand her the scrolls the thieves wanted to steal. "It is an honor, my princess." You didn't know what else to say. You could hear a smile in her voice when she spoke to you again: "You may rise now, and show your princess the contents of those parchments."
Embarrassed that you had held the scrolls in a way as if she was to take them in her royal hands you didn't dare wasting any time and opened the first scroll, nervously avoiding her gaze.
When she lowered her eyes to study the scroll, you dared looking at her. you almost fainted at her looks; she was far more beautiful in person than in any depiction you had seen.
"Bending scrolls," Azula noticed, "pathetic. The Avatar can't even handle the basics of bending without having to steal instructions." To you it seemed a bit weird that it was pathetic; you had never seen a bender master his element without some kind of instruction, but at the moment you were simply grateful to hear Azula's voice.
She looked straight at your face before you could move your eyes away, spreading a slight blush on your face. Your heart thumbed heavily; what was going on? You had met many persons of high rank before, even the brother of the firelord, General Iroh himself had honored you with his presence once, but you had never felt as nervous as now. For that short moment you had looked in her eyes it almost felt like butterflies in your stomach… but it was not the time to think about this, as Azula once again granted you the pleasure of talking to you, a curious look adorning her face: "Have we met before?"
You swallowed before answering: "I have been to the royal palace one time, to deliver the finished report of the siege of Ba-Sing-Se to the royal library. Maybe your highness was also present." You cursed yourself for being so overly specific on why you had been there and for not knowing if she had been there too. Surprisingly she answered without hesitation: "Then you must be y/n, the one who makes sure that 'the victories and history of the fire nation may never be forgotten'." Although she made you embarrassed of your dramatic marketing, your heart almost skipped a beat when she said your name. "I am deeply honored that your highness has remembered my name.", you answered truthfully.
"Well, y/n," she continued, "I must leave now, but be assured that your devotion to the fire nation and your selfless fight will not be forgotten."
You were not quite sure to what degree this was sarcasm, but you appreciated the compliment nonetheless. You bowed lower than ever before and only began to rise when you heard her turning away. You looked after her for as long as she was visible. Finally, after the last of the city guards escorting her had gone out of sight, you turned away and went inside to finish the text for Admiral Zhao. And to close the window. When you had finished that, you would take the rest of the day off. You had already done more than enough today.
< • ◇ • >
You enjoyed the silence on your way to the library. After all the action that had taken place yesterday you didn't mind the festival being over at all. Well actually, you did. Maybe it had been noisy, but at least you could keep the library closed. Normally you were happy to welcome people who wanted to read, but today you just needed some rest. Sadly, that was not a valid reason to close the library, as you did not suffer from any serious injury or disease.
You sighed, arriving at your workplace. Although you could not deny being proud of yourself for your short intervention yesterday, that little bit of pride was not enough to give you the motivation to work today. Maybe no one wanted to read in this town today? With little to no hope of that happening you opened the front door, only to be welcomed by emptiness. The whole building was completely empty, not even the furniture was there anymore. For a moment you thought that you might have entered the wrong house, but then your keys wouldn't have worked. You decided to go inside to search for any possible clue on what had happened. This Avatar boy couldn't have stolen literally everything from this house, could he? Unfortunately, searching for anything would be harder than you thought, as the light sources were also absent, so you needed to open the windows - something you had planned to avoid doing since the incident from yesterday.
To your surprise another kind of brightness filled the room before you could flood it with daylight. It was the flickering of blue flames. Clueless about what might be the source of that unusual light you turned to the direction from where it seemed to come, immediately bowing deeply when you realized that it was no other than Princess Azula herself, casting blue flames from her fingertips. Even though you had bowed as fast as you could, you had managed to get one quick look at her smiling face. If she was smiling, it couldn't be too bad, could it? Her smile truly was beautiful. Wait, what were you thinking? She was your princess, after all. Of course you had to find her beautiful, but not in t h a t way, right?
Once again you were interrupted by the soothing voice of hers: "You may stand now." You stood straight. You almost felt happy to do as Azula instructed, suddenly feeling the urge to always be with her to have her will fulfilled. Just now the thought crossed your mind that you might need some fresh air. "Do not fear for your belongings, y/n." You felt your heart beat faster when she said your name. "They have not been stolen, they have merely been moved to a place that is worthy of their presence… a place that would be a more appropriate environment for you too." You swallowed, excitement and hope suddenly filling your thoughts. "Like I said, your devotion to the course of the fire nation and your courage have not been forgotten, and we have come to make the decision that the royal palace will fit your noble nature better than this provincial town." Her smug smile almost turned to a grin while she watched you struggle for words, looking at her in disbelief and trying to comprehend what she just said. What could you possibly do to repay her for this? You roughly knew what the royal librarians got paid, and everyone else who knew would have reacted just like you. But for you the most important part was how she spoke of you. Surely much of it was courtesy and even to you some parts sounded a bit silly, but still you would never have imagined to receive such compliments from the Princess, especially after you had seen how perfect she was herself. If you wouldn't have k n o w n the only reason for your nervousness was her high status, you would have thought she flustered you simply by speaking to you.
Since you couldn't think of anything elegant to answer and you did not dare being silent for too long you got straight to the point, your voice almost trembling from excitement: "My gratitude cannot be put into words. How am I to ever repay your highness for this act of kindness?"
She clearly liked how submissive you acted around her as much as she enjoyed you being obviously flustered from the way she treated you.
"Oh, your loyalty is all I could ask for as a compensation for that little favour, y/n. You will fulfill that wish of mine, won't you?" She said your name again. And why did she formulate it this way? She had to be doing this on purpose!
At least it was easier to find an answer to this than before. "My loyalty will be yours forever." It felt unfitting to say it like this. It almost sounded like something you'd say in a marriage. Actually, it didn't - but to you it felt like it.
To your relief Azula seemed to be more than happy with your answer, telling you to follow her outside, not missing the opportunity to call you by your name.
You would have liked to open the door for her, but as you watched how confidently she marched ahead, you quietly decided it would be best not to interfere with her path. You felt a bit relieved when she looked away from you. This much eye contact had made your knees go a bit weak. The last time you had felt like this had been when you had been crushing on a young saleswoman from the market, and feeling the same way for someone like Azula was usually not good. Surely you were just overwhelmed - those feelings, if they even were any, would pass soon. To your surprise she was the one now holding the door opened for you to walk through. Having the door held open by the princess of the fire nation truly was not something everyone could claim of themselves. You slipped by as fast as you could and attempted a small bow on the way to express your gratitude, but it turned out more like a nod. Good enough, she would probably get the message. Outside there was a luxurious carriage waiting for you. "We are leaving now, y/n.", Azula explained. "Since I don't expect you to be able to ride Komodo Rhinos I thought you would appreciate taking the more comfortable way to the capital - this coach will transport us to an airship just outside the town." You liked the 'us'-part. Before you could even open your mouth to answer, Azula already continued talking: "The private belongings from your house are being packed as we speak." You said something to signalise that you understood. Right when she began walking to the carriage you sprinted past her, opening the door and bowing like any good servant would. You were no servant, though, so your small but eager attempt at pleasing her made her grin. "It is nice to have finally found someone who knows how to treat their princess, unlike the others." At this point you truly did not know what you had accomplished to receive this amount of compliments from Azula. "I am looking forward to having you around mineself often in the future." If you hadn't bowed down she would have seen your face turning bright red. A few moments later, when you assumed your face to have a more normal colour again, you entered the carriage too.
Inside you were met with a precarious situation; only now did you realise that you would have to sit face to face with Azula for the entire ride. You sat down opposite to her with an awkward smile, trying not to touch the decorated walls of the cart. You felt a slight shake when the carriage began driving, but the road was very even, it almost felt comfortable. You desperately tried to think of something to talk about, although you knew pretty well that you wouldn't dare being the one to speak first in her presence. Her eyes permanently lingering on you did not make the situation more pleasant either, even if you couldn't deny liking the feeling of her giving you attention. Slowly a blush creeped up your face. Finally, she began talking, but not in a way that would calm you down: "I think I don't want to sit with my back facing the front anymore, y/n." With that she stood up, walking over to your bench. At this point you couldn't imagine her not hearing your heart beat like crazy. "Give your princess some space.", she said, sitting down beside you. Even though you were pretty sure giving someone space meant something different, you happily let her take a seat next to you. You were not sure if you were going to survive the trip to the airship, or if you were going to die of a heart attack before you arrived.
Azula looked at you. She knew you were all hers, and she wouldn't let you go anytime soon.
#azula x reader#azula avatar#fire lord azula#azula x y/n#azula x you#azula#atla azula#atla#x reader#x you#x y/n#fluff#reader insert#gn reader#azula x gn reader#atla x reader#Seetang#Seetangus#Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben muss von Christus Zeugnis geben :D
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CrypticRock.Com reviews Candyass and Vapor Transmission's release on vinyl.
At the height of Nu-metal’s popularity when bands like Korn, Limp Bizkit and Slipknot were leading as a massive charge, something rather unique also arose in the form of Orgy. A band vastly different from their contemporaries, Orgy’s sound certainly fit more comfortably in the Industrial Metal realm, but still, was in a league of its own. Self-described as Death Pop, if you were a fan of ’80s Synthwave, mixed with modern Alternative Metal, no matter the title you want to use, you were bound to love Orgy.
Initially forming in 1997, Orgy would go on to become the first band signed to Jonathan Davis’ Elementree Records; which at the time had distribution with Reprise Records. A partnership where few knew what would happen… there were a few fun facts about the members of Orgy that should not be noted. First, you had Lead Vocalist Jay Gordon; who in fact co-produced Coal Chamber’s 1997 self-titled debut. Second, you had Guitarist Amir Derakh; who had earned some notoriety as a member of ’80s Metal act Rough Cutt. And last, by not least, you had Guitarist Ryan Shuck; who was a part of the band Sexart… where he would play alongside future Korn vocalist, Jonathan Davis.
With plenty of more intriguing aspects surrounding Orgy’s cast individually, when joined together, by August of 1998 they were set to take on the world with the release of their debut album Candyass. Released on August 18th of that year, the album picked up momentum and found an audience within just a few months; thanks in part to an appearance on the Family Values Tour in the fall, alongside Korn, Limp Bizkit, Incubus, and Rammstein. Somewhat of a key moment in history of Orgy, what would follow would be the release of their impeccable cover of New Order’s “Blue Monday” that December, thus leading to even more broader popularity. In fact, you could argue that “Blue Monday” served as a gateway for audiences to see how special Orgy was; soon leading to even more attention drawn to the single “Stitches.” So, where did this unpredictable rise lead? It led to Candyass attaining platinum status, hitting Number 1 on Heatseekers charts, on its way to becoming one of the late ’90s most beloved Metal leaning records.
Truly an inspiring story of success, matching Orgy’s musical attack was a stylistic appearance that unified ’80s New Wave fashion, Glam Rock, all with a sweet little Gothic twist. Something that enticed many, the promotional images out at the time (on press posters, etc.), immediately made you feel like you were transported into a subculture of something far out of this world. A fascination that stirred around well into the new millennium, it was in October of 2000 when Orgy plotted another impact with their highly anticipated follow up, Vapor Transmission. An album that had massive buzz surrounding it – and more than likely one that placed a ton of pressure on the band themselves – Vapor Transmission delivered in many facets of the word. Very much a continuation of the trajectory Orgy began with Candyass, the new album featured a delightful collection of tunes that solidified that they were not a novelty act, but one with significant abilities, both as songwriters and atmosphere creators. Evident with tracks such as “Fiction (Dreams in Digital),” “Eva,” and “Opticon,” Vapor Transmission would peak at 16 on the Billboard 200 and eventually attain gold status.
A more than respectful way to follow up Candyass (an album which has attained platinum status), to Orgy’s dedicated following, Candyass and Vapor Transmissions are essential listens… even over two decades later. More than likely two albums which survived the physical format purge many music fans partook in at the onset of digital downloading, leading into the streaming age, both CD formats remain fixtures in many collections. This in mind, it comes with great excitement in 2024 to learn that both Candyass and Vapor Transmission have been re-released in a vinyl format. Arriving on February 2nd, the two new releases through Real Gone Music are fit with some interesting details that make them even more compelling to look into.
First and foremost, the obvious selling point here is that Candyass is now available in the vinyl format for the first time ever. Beyond this, each album is remastered and pressed in a pretty eye-gazing way. For Candyass, the remastering (done by Mike Milchner of Sonic Vision) is fresh, bright, and crisp. Something that makes for a lovely listening experience, making it pop even more is a high quality 180 gram clear with red and yellow swirl pressing; or fire orange color if you go to Best Buy. Really nicely done, it is also presented in a grand gatefold packaging with all the original art.
Then, for Vapor Transmission, you also get a remastered copy (done by Milchner as well), but this time including “The Spectrum.” A bonus, originally “The Spectrum” was exclusive to the first 1,000 copies of the CD edition put out all the way back in 2004; that was until the digital release of it in December of 2020. A really cool bonus for collectors, Vapor Transmission is also given a color treatment pressing; this time in red and yellow “plasma,” or purple swirl if you go to Best Buy. Matched with pristine sound, as well as the original art in a gatefold package, it is the perfect sidekick to the Candyass re-release.
Overall, when looking at the journey of Orgy – past, present, and future – Candyass and Vapor Transmission are pinnacle points in time. Aware of this history and recognizing it, Orgy (currently led by Jay Gordon, along with a lineup of Bassist Nic Speck, plus Guitarists Carlton Bost and Ilia Yordanov) are set to tour April into May celebrating 25 years of Candyass. A run that kicks off on April 11th, before ending May 25th, they will co-headline with Cold on each of the dates. With that, the next question many might ask is – when can we expect a new, proper Orgy album? While that remains to be seen, they have put out several stand alone singles over the last decade since 2015’s Talk Sick EP. So, only time will tell what is next for Orgy in the way of a new album. Thankfully there is a tour, plus these two new must have vinyl edition releases of both Candyass and Vapor Transmission.
2024 Orgy Tour Dates:
4/11/2024 – Chicago, IL – The Bottom Lounge
4/12/2024 – Flint, MI – The Machine Shop
4/13/2024 – Des Moines, IA – Lefty’s Live Music
4/14/2024 – Sioux City, IA – The Marquee
4/16/2024 – Colorado Springs, CO – The Black Sheep
4/17/2024 – Denver, CO – Marquis Theater
4/19/2024 – Seattle, WA – Madame Lou’s
4/20/2024 – Portland, OR – Bossanova Ballroom
4/22/2024 – Sacramento, CA – Harlow’s
4/23/2024 – West Hollywood, CA – Whisky a Go Go
4/24/2024 – Fresno, CA – Fulton 55
4/25/2024 – Santa Ana, CA – The Observatory
4/26/2024 – San Diego, CA – Brick By Brick
4/27/2024 – Scottsdale, AZ – Pub Rock Live
4/28/2024- Albuquerque, NM – Launchpad
4/30/2024 – Austin, TX – Come And Take It Live
5/1/2024 – San Antonio, TX – Paper Tiger
5/2/2024 – Dallas, TX – Trees
5/3/2024 – Houston, TX – Scout Bar
5/4/2024 – Shreveport, LA – Strange Brew
5/6/2024 – New Orleans, LA – House of Blues
5/7/2024 – Tallahassee, FL – Legacy At The Riverfront
5/8/2024 – Fort Lauderdale, FL – Revolution Live
5/9/2024 – Daytona Beach, FL – Welcome to Rockville @ Daytona Speedway
5/10/2024 – Greenville, SC – Radio Room
5/11/2024 – Knoxville, TN – The Concourse
5/12/2024 – Greensboro, NC – Hangar 1819
5/14/2024 – Mechanicsburg, PA – Lovedraft’s
5/15/2024 – Clifton, NJ – Dingbatz
5/16/2024 – New York, NY – The Gramercy Theatre
5/17/2024 – Allentown, PA – Maingate Nightclub
5/18/2024 – Boston, MA – Brighton Music Hall
5/19/2024 – Baltimore, MD – Baltimore Soundstage
5/21/2024 – Syracuse, NY – The Song & Dance
5/22/2024 – Warrendale, PA – Jergel’s
5/23/2024 – Covington, KY – Madison Theater
5/24/2024 – Columbus, OH – The King of Clubs
5/25/2024 – St. Paul, MN – Turf Club
#OrgyMusic#OrgyOfficial#Jay Gordon#Candyass#Vapor Transmission#Merch#Other Websites#Concerts#Tour#Vinyls
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GJ2: holy fuck theres 2 of them* please :)
thank you 😊 i kinda lost track of how much i wrote tbh but it was a Lot. here's enough Oedipus to cover 3 asks
⚠️ implied incest
“Jak,” Damas’ call came from his room, “come. I have a gift for you.”
Jak put the cool sword back on its pedestal in the center of Damas’ living room. The king's chambers still never ceased to amaze him, even after all those weeks. He'd been invited to come and go as he pleased, which he made the most of. Hopefully Daxter didn't mind sleeping alone.
The king's lavish bedchamber was even more impressive than the rest of his rooms combined. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows hewn into the cliff overlooked the ocean, the horizon stretching for miles, providing a beautiful view of the dawn each morning. Another wall was adorned with a beautiful, complex tapestry with threads that shone like jewels. Every time Jak tried to follow the flowing, branching design, he got lost at a turn and had to start over.
Of course, the centerpiece of the room captured his attention the most: a massive four-poster bed, large enough that three or four people could lay on it. And sometimes that many people were involved, though the laying wasn't exactly the conventional kind.
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I heard no one's sent you some Awful Shit™ yet tonight SO: Thalia & Samson, 14 days of lovers prompts, "Ravish"
well you know what, it's September and I've been picking at this horrific scene for at least six months and I'm sick of seeing this prompt in my inbox so have a terrible taste of what I have in mind for a future chapter of Through a Glass, Darkly.
For @dadrunkwriting
WC: 970
CW: Impending dubcon/non con implied
---
Inside the lord’s chambers a fire was roaring in the hearth, and Samson had made himself at home. Furniture of traditional Orlesian make was strewn haphazardly about, competing with the ensemble of someone with garish yet expensive taste. A whole rack of polished swords glinted in the firelight; surfaces overflowed with bottles of wine and spirits and other unmentionables. For some reason, a dead halla stood stuffed and erect not far from the ornate four-poster bed.
Samson reclined on the sofa, a jeweled goblet in hand. His eyes glowed red with the reflection of the flames. Or was it something else? Before him the low table was covered in vices. A silver platter lay with traces of glittering scarlet dust upon it, and that was what Thalia had a difficult time looking away from.
The guards paraded her in front of him, then hastily retreated. Thalia stood between the fireplace and the man on the sofa, trying not to tremble. The heat of the fire was at her back, so at least she was warm.
“Good evening.” Samson’s voice was slurred, more so than usual. Thalia forced herself to look him in the face. His grin looked ghoulish in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the glazed look in his eyes. He’d had a number of indulgences tonight, and she could tell from his expression alone he expected more.
“Hello, Samson.” Thalia kept her voice calm and even. This was precisely what she had bargained for — she had no right to be surprised.
“You’re looking particularly lovely tonight,” Samson said, taking a deep sip from his cup.
“Thank you.”
He cocked his head, indicating the cushion beside him. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
Heart thumping, Thalia walked around the table to the desired spot. Her bare knee poked out of the slit in her skirt; she caught Samson eyeing her pale flesh and her skin crawled. She almost wished he would dispense with the pretext and get on with it.
She sat as demurely as she could, no easy task in a dress with so many holes. She crossed over leg over another and folded her hands on top. Samson was, to her relief, not in his red lyrium armor. He wore a black jerkin over a loose shirt, embroidered with cloth-of-gold and crimson thread, matching breeches. An attempt to look civilized, Thalia thought distastefully, yet still leagues better than the monstrous, interlocking bits of metal that thrummed and burned without heat.
“Wine?” Samson asked, swinging the goblet in her face.
Thalia shook her head. “No, thank you.” Whatever happened, she needed her wits about her, she decided.
Samson shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s the finest vintage from the Heartland region of Orlais, supposedly. Sweet like plums and honey... though not half so much as you.”
Thalia tried her best not to cringe. “Why all this flattery? You’ve already won.”
“Ah, love, I’m hurt.” Samson smirked. “Didn’t I tell you I could be a gentleman? I’m trying to prove that to you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Thalia tried to find a point in the room to look at that that wasn’t him. She settled on a marble bust on the far side of the hearth.
Samson rasped out a laugh that turned to a deep-seated cough. “Oh, is that right? You’d rather have me at my worst, would you? Little better than the guttersnipe from Kirkwall, is that how you see me?”
Thalia examined her shaking hands, refusing to dignify him with a response.
Samson sighed, putting down the goblet. He leaned closer, brows knit, appraising her. “I’d like to see you with your hair down. Is that too much to ask?”
“I suppose you might not know.” Thalia swallowed. “Highborn Ostwick girls are not supposed to let their hair loose around unmarried men. It’s a terrible faux pas.”
“Mm.” Samson slouched against the sofa cushions, propping his chin up on his elbow. “It’s a good thing we’re not in Ostwick then, eh?”
She thought of the times Cullen had removed the pins from her hair at the end of a long day, the two of them reveling in the sensual freedom. He was the only man outside her own family she’d ever let see her hair down. She missed him with a painful certainty, and hoped he would be able to forgive her for this.
Thalia reached behind her head and began to pluck the pins from her braids. Samson watched with growing fascination as she deposited one after another on the table beside the silver platter. He must have been snorting the red lyrium, based on the residue. How much had he had? Was he planning to do more?
Thalia set to work unraveling the multiple braids she had plaited into her hair this morning. At last she shook it all out, so that her auburn hair hung in heavy waves about her shoulders and down her back.
A stray strand fell across her face. Samson leaned forward, brushing it aside. His fingers grazed her cheek, rough and calloused and raw. Nails bit down to the quick, with dirt and who knew what else caked beneath them. Thalia shuddered.
“I’m not a complete monster, you know,” he murmured. “I’d prefer you enjoy yourself, too.”
Something in Thalia’s chest twisted painfully. “I don’t see how that will be possible.”
Samson leaned past her, snatched the wine bottle, and poured the red-black liquid to the brim of a goblet matching his own. “That’s a good start.” He pressed it into her hand.
Thalia raised her eyebrows. “Is that how you woo all your women? Get them too drunk to resist?”
Samson let out a guffaw. “Not all. But everyone knows unpleasant things go down a lot sweeter with some wine in your belly. So drink up, dear heart.”
#THIS IS FINE#it's FINE#nightmare au#raleigh samson#thalia trevelyan#trevelyan x samson#this wip document is called “I'm going to hell”#fics#dragon age drunk writing circle
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