#every person waiting is such a feminine pretty ~woman~ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milliesdiary · 2 years

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; you’re a general's pants-wearing daughter: a skilled fighter, headstrong, and teased by others for not being feminine. during a sparring session with your friend, aemond, you two make a bet: if you win, he has to show you his eye. if he wins, you have to wear a dress — and kiss him.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; aemond being aemond, confessions, just some good old sweetness ✨

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you so much to the amazing person who asked for this :”) i hope i could do it justice! to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the reader’s father’s descent. i also do not specify her skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture ♡

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄.

Not like any other woman, at least. You’re strong-willed. Unshakeable. Not as naïve.

As a child, you made mud pies, climbed trees, and kicked boys who made fun of you for acting unladylike. You would return to your parents with grime under your nails, grass stains on your pants, and a twinkle in your eyes. Blood never bothered you; you could get slashed open, bruised, and filthy, yet still make it home.

Maybe it was because of your father — a stubborn general hardened by war, with a sharp way of speaking and a stern sentiment. He taught you the way of the sword at the age of 9, and instilled you with a sense of discipline. Not once did he try to force you into the stereotypes of being a woman; the fancy clothes, the manners, the expectation to give birth at any chance possible.

That’s just not you.

You're not the kind of girl who crumbles beneath the weight of insults, who loses her mind, who cries. You give the same treatment to those who hurt you. You are Bloody Mary, the venomous spider, the wicked snake. You are a creature that can wander through flames without getting burned.

So no, you are not like the other women.

And the townsfolk are always willing to remind you.

The second you step onto the training grounds, all eyes are on you, and there’s an intense discomfort at how they look you up and down.

They are taking in your appearance; your black flowy cape, leather pants, and the tunic cinched at your waist to match. It’s not the style they are used to seeing, comprised of silk dresses and chiffon gowns.

People gossip about how you could steal the hearts of every man in Westeros if you just put on a skirt — if you sat with your legs crossed, prim and proper. If you smiled more often.

“Such a waste of a pretty girl,” they whisper.

How stupid.

You shrug away their stares and try to focus on something else.

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for sparring; the November sunlight veils the world in a golden shawl, and the cool air is sweet as a mandarin. The temperature has risen enough so that you can train without getting numb or going home with an earache from the wind.

You’re more than ready for a fight, to get your hands soiled and feel sweat bead down your face.

Walking over to a table where swords and blades of all kinds are spread along the surface, you feel that familiar rush of excitement. You’re about to grab a dagger until you hear someone call your name.

It’s Ser Criston. He walks over, armor clicking with every stride and gleaming in the autumn sun, only to stop beside you. “I was waiting for when I would see you again. Have you come to train?”

“Of course,” you say simply. “Did you expect any less?”

“Maybe not,” the knight replies, an accepting expression on his face. He knows that you enjoy playing dirty.

Luckily, you and Ser Cristin get along. He is outside a lot of the time helping to train the others, so it was not unusual that you both talked from time to time. You aren’t sure if he is bothered by your lack of femininity, but he never mentions it, so you do not mind him.

You focus your attention back to the blades, picking up a particularly sharp sword. You weigh it in your hands; the grey metal is dense and heavy, brand new. Your reflection stares back at you in the steel. Ser Criston catches your hum of satisfaction.

“That sword was gilded just days ago. A work of art,” He nods.

“Indeed it is,” you agree. Then you smile knowingly at him. “Is there anyone I can spar with?”

Ser Criston responds with a curt nod. Admiration dances in his brown eyes; he’s definitely not like the others. “Plenty.”

Eager, you follow Ser Criston to the patch of land reserved for sword fighting. People are gathered in a circle around two men who are already sparring; the crowd cheers, made up of men who are desperate to make a good impression and women who have come to watch.

You glance at the pair of individuals who are currently engaged in a duel, following their sharp steps as they parry each other’s hits. You remain near the back of the crowd, bringing the tip of your sword to the ground and resting both hands on the hilt.

You’re trying to act casual — but you’re actually itching for your turn. Impatient.

The fight turns out to be pretty boring. You’re able to guess every move before it’s done and correct every miscalculated block inside your head. It might be unfair to judge them so harshly; you’re a skilled fighter and have trained for years. The advantage is yours.

But you also can’t bring yourself to care. These are the same men who boast about their power despite being weak.

You’re genuinely relieved when one of the men knocks the other down, leveling their sword at their opponent’s face. The people around you clap for awhile, and then the crowd slowly breaks apart as some leave to continue their duties.

It’s fine; you don’t need the validation of a crowd during a match.

“Alright,” you say gruffly, ripping your sword from the dirt and skirting through the gaps of people, stepping onto the sandy soil of the sparring area. You turn to face a few of the trainees’ expectant faces. They are waiting for you to choose someone, though all of them seem pathetic. Might as well get it over with.

“Would you like to duel?” You finally ask a man toward the front.

For a second, he remains still. And then he smiles; fucking smirks like he’s a serpent and you’re a lamb ensnared between its teeth. He thinks you’re an easy opponent, all because you’re a woman.

Beating him is going to feel good, you think. Beating all of them.

Balancing the sword in a hand, you spit into the dirt just to spite him — which is successful in making multiple people cringe. Good. You have to bite back a smile and prepare yourself for your opponent’s first strike.

And you were right, of course.

They’re all useless, each more powerless than the last. There’s no challenge, no threat. Not even child’s play with any of them. You have more than half of your competitors on their asses before they even get an opportunity to attack, making every clang of your sword against another seem meaningless.

You ought to take pride in it, thinking back to their breathy chuckles as they whispered about how deluded you were. How unwomanly.

But you don’t. You don't feel prideful, self satisfied, or any emotion of fulfillment. It’s too easy.

The blows from your adversary are repetitive, almost as if he is rehearsing a list of strategies. The movements are easy to predict, giving you the upper hand. It’s not difficult to knock him on the ground, sweeping his legs out from beneath him with a blow that you wish he would have jumped over.

There is someone who definitely would have dodged it, though.

The enigma, the cunning raven, the Prince — Aemond Targaryen. The one man who doesn’t judge you or stare condescendingly. The only person who you consider an equal, an acquaintance.

Aemond is a man of honor. His eye is the shade of lavender, and every syllable that falls from his tongue is sliced apart by the sharp quirk of his lips. High cheekbones, fair skin, an eyepatch making a home over a scar that sits where his eyelid once was.

A dark serpent.

Just as you struggle with your identity, he does, too. You are aware of Aemond’s lack of restraint, lack of faith, lack of fear, and his internal conflict. You know why the man is the way he is.

Aemond had told you what happened once, after you had finished having a nice conversation with his nephews. It’s tragic: when a person doesn't feel valued as a member of a family, they develop a sort of outcast mentality. Childhood experiences of neglect paves the way for lifelong isolation, and as a result, Aemond withdrew. He started spending time alone.

But out of every person in the world, he chose to keep a spot open for you. It’s an honor, really.

The man you are sparring with gives in, standing to his feet with a grunt of humiliation and shooting you a glare. You return it with one of your own, ready to pick another opponent, and then—

“You have been busy, I see,” A familiar voice says.

You turn toward the sound of it, the lull and the accent — only to be met with Aemond standing in the front of the crowd. You size him up, sword dangling at your side.

Aemond’s arms are crossed behind his back in a casual fashion, head held high with interest. His white hair is in a half-up half-down style, the ends flowing over his broad shoulders like a silk scarf.

“My Prince.” There’s no stopping the grin that blooms on your lips. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you always find excitement in his presence. “Dare I ask how long you have been watching?”

“Long enough.” Aemond is silent as he scans you up and down; there’s not a single streak of dirt on you, nor a single cut. He takes notice. “Pray tell: how many men have you made fools of?”

“I don’t know,” you dramatically sigh, acting indifferent. You retreat from the center of the sparring ground to stand in front of him. “I have not had the luxury to count. I was too busy winning.”

Aemond exhales a sharp breath from his nose — his way of conveying amusement — and slightly tilts his head. “It seems that they have not prepared themselves for a woman of your caliber.”

It’s a compliment; a bit cheeky, yes, but a compliment nonetheless. It has you rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation. “A woman of my caliber? I must say, My Prince, I am flattered.”

“I would not say it unless it were true.”

“Well, if it is of any comfort, you are not like any man I have ever known," you jibe. "You're like a character in a folktale. Someone from a history book.”

"The prince, I presume."

"No, you're the dragon. A magnificently evil dragon." Your tone becomes teasing. “How could anyone lead a regular life with a beast like you?”

“I should inquire the same, My Lady.”

“You just don’t understand a woman that dares to be different, that’s all.”

Aemond lets out a simple ‘hmm’ at that. You slap him in the arm playfully and he doesn’t flinch. He only graces you with the tiniest smirk.

The prince does not enjoy being touched, though the aversion seems to disappear when it comes to you. He can tell; he knows by how he does not scowl at the idea of your hand on his shoulder, or cringe at the feeling of your arm brushing against his. You do not give off negative energy.

Perhaps this is why you have remained in contact with each other; you don’t judge one another for the things you are and for the things you can’t be. Somewhere, deep down, you both think the same thing: take me as I am, or watch my back as I go.

You know of Aemond’s true nature, and he realizes yours.

Much like him, you cannot be picked and thrown away like a flower or an old manuscript. You are a hurricane: ferocious, unflinching, and authentic. A dagger that will slice through the flesh of anyone who dares to cross you.

Though he will not publicly admit it, your spunkiness delights him.

“Come then,” Aemond says.

You’re confused at his words — unsure of what he’s talking about — before he saunters to the center of the sparring circle. He brandishes his sword from a holster wrapped around his hip, the metal screeching into the air. “We have yet to train together. Demonstrate your skills to me.”

It’s true. In the years you’ve known him, you have never once challenged each other. You know what Aemond is capable of though, so it’s intimidating. It’s probably the main reason you have never asked to spar.

Maybe it’s time to change that; you’re not about to back down from a fight. It would hurt your pride too much.

“Fine,” you agree, slinking forward to stand before him in the training area.

There’s so much you want to know about Aemond, you notice. So much that you’d like to learn. Your gaze is focused on his face, and his eye, and then that eyepatch — and you realize that he has never showed you what’s underneath the leather.

You’ve heard the rumors: how the socket has been replaced by a sapphire, a deep, saturated blue that reflects the light at every angle. You wish so badly to see it. For him to trust you with the imperfect parts of him.

It gives you an idea.

“I will spar with you,” you begin, maintaining a serious tone in your voice. “But only if we make a bet.”

The look on Aemond's face changes from being neutral to intrigued. He slices the earth open by shoving his sword into the soil. “And what would that be, My Lady?”

“If I win,” you quip, “you must show me your eye.”

The silence is deafening.

Aemond frowns then. You’re scared for a second; scared that you went too far and bit off more than you could chew.

Looking back on the past can be very frustrating. You have to let it go, you want to tell his younger self, clapping him on the back. If you did that, he might get angry. Or maybe cry. Maybe you would, too.

You open your mouth to revoke the words, yet close it just as quick, unable to get a single syllable out.

But then he speaks.

“Then it shall be,” Aemond says firmly. He leans his weight on his sword, crossing one ankle over the other. You aren’t sure if he actually doesn’t care or if he’s just hiding his anger. He’s always been an expert at keeping his emotions at bay. “If that is what you wish.”

Relief is a godsend in that moment. You fix your surprised expression into one that is more calm. “…And if you win?”

Aemond seems to think it over.

Finally, he decides on something; with the mischief that glints in that one eye, you know it’s going to be less than satisfactory. “I propose you wear a dress for an entire day.”

“What? There’s no way—“

“And kiss me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

Is this how he plans on winning? By threatening you with something so strange in the hopes that you will give up before you started? Like hell you’re going to kiss him. Fuck that. “You cannot be serious.”

“But I am,” he says coolly. Taunting.

In that moment, you consider your options. One, you could retreat. Two, you could fight him and win, effectively seeing the thing he hides most. Third, you could lose, and have to wear a dress, and…

The thought has you reeling. But, at the same time, you do not want to run away from a challenge. You never have. And never, ever will.

You’ll just have to win.

“It is settled then,” you nod, trying to remain composed. Your voice wavers a bit; if Aemond notices, he does not comment on it.

Aemond’s mouth creeps into the slightest smile. He tears his sword from the earth and spins it in the air with a flick of his wrist. “Whenever you are ready, then,” he deadpans.

“I have been ready,” you tease, stepping sideways as you both begin to circle each other. Your footsteps are light and airy in a silent prowl, a show of the expertise your father passed to you. “Are you?”

“The first to hold the other at sword-point wins,” Aemond states, ignoring your question. There’s a sharpness to his words as he tries to draw a reaction from you. Provoke you. “I hope you do not hold back.”

“You must think lowly of me, My Prince,” You retort. “I would never do such a thing. Are you worried that I am going to beat you at your own game?”

Aemond licks his lips, fixing you with a predatory stare; it looks as if he wants to use his canines to rip apart the air, the world, your body that stands before him.

It urges you into action.

You lunge with your sword, but Aemond knocks it to the side with ease, spinning his own in a hand and making a swipe at you.

You don’t hesitate to deflect it — once, twice, three times — before parrying another of his blows. You manage to hit Aemond’s sword particularly hard the fourth time, and you catch a glint of surprise in his eye.

You take a quick step back, before confidently transferring your blade from one hand to the other without breaking eye contact. Your head is buzzing with exhilaration.

“Did you think it would be that simple?” You grin arrogantly. “As a man who studies the way of the sword, I thought you would be more of a challenge.”

To your chagrin, Aemond doesn’t gift you with a reaction. His profile remains composed, although there is a fire in his eye; he has finally found someone who tests him.

You are about to say something else before he lunges for you.

Aemond is fast and skilled, the swiftness of his steps impressive, with a strength in his arms that could send you to the ground if you gave him an opening. With every clash of your swords, you know he’s evaluating your endurance, your attacks, the likelihood of you slashing him with your blade.

However, Aemond is not attempting to boast his power; not like the other trainees who argue like idiots about whose sword is the sharpest or who has the best balance. That’s what you like about him.

Aemond’s jaw is set and confidence keeps his chin held high, even as you deliver another strike to his blade. Your attention is drawn to the way his knuckles are white from the grip on his sword; veins protrude from the pretty skin of his hands, emphasizing the slender length of his fingers.

Focus.

Strike. Block. Dodge. Slash again. You score another hit, but Aemond follows it immediately with a jab at your chest, which has you losing your balance. You respond with a stab at his side, though he dodges it.

This dance of blades feels like it lasts forever; if it were anyone else, you probably would have won by now. Every second feels like a minute, each one longer than the last.

Just before a leap, Aemond tightens his grip on the weapon’s hilt. Before you can react and fix your stance, the sword swings towards your feet, his speed and skill working together to knock you off-balance. You land on your back in the dirt, your blade flying somewhere.

You’re fast, yes. But he is faster.

Quickly you try lift yourself up and grapple for it, but suddenly Aemond pushes you back down. He straddles you, careful not to place his entire weight on your body, and then the pointed edge of his blade is at your throat.

You’ve lost.

Aemond lets out a breathy pant, a wicked grin on his lips — it sends a chill branching down your spine, all the way to your feet. Spite coils in your chest, your nerves trembling with adrenaline, and you see the thrill of the fight reflected in Aemond’s eye.

You are both the same in that way.

“You do put up quite a fight,” Aemond jests, his tone low and deep. You let both arms lay flat across the ground, every breath labored as your heart punches the inside of your ribcage. “Though I am afraid it was not enough.”

You've never experienced energy like this before. You’re trapped underneath him which is exciting in a strange way. You respond with sarcasm in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“You offer to spar with a woman only to fling her into the dirt,” you pant. “How polite of you.”

“And you spar with a dragon.” Up close, Aemond’s iris is a startling violet, and the pupil reflects streaks of shadow and light. He’s agonizingly gorgeous. It makes you feel warm. “Is that not what you called me?”

“You are a man of the most preposterous kind.”

“And yet you still wallow in my company.”

There’s nothing you can really say about that. In a final act of defiance, you stare him down as long as possible; in this small way, you feel undefeated. “You can release me now.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgment, letting his sword hang at his side and slowly standing. In a rare act, the prince offers a hand for you to take, but you slap it away. He is entertained by your glare. “You never fail to reject kindness when it is given.”

“Kindness does not serve me.”

Aemond is amused at your annoyance. He spins his sword between his fingers before sheathing it back into its holster, and you pick up your sword to pass it to an observing knight. When you turn back around, Aemond is staring at you. “What?”

“You owe me a debt.”

There was the bet; you’d almost forgot. Gods, you were going to have to wear a dress for a day, and — and…

“Regretting your choices now?” The taught line of Aemond’s mouth evolves into a smile, coy and demure.

“No — no, of course not,” you snap. The words don’t come out as calm as you need them to, and it’s all because of him; he has a way of being frustrating. Always doing something to make you tighten your fists. But as much as you would like to blame him, it was your idea. You reap what you sow. “I never break a promise.”

“Good,” comes Aemond’s response. You both stare at each other for a bit, and then you realize: he’s waiting for you to kiss him. For real. Right here, right now.

“What is wrong, little bird?” He teases. “Do not fly away from me now.”

“I—“ you start, unsure of what to do. A split-second decision is made. “I am not doing this here.”

Before Aemond can say anything, you are grabbing him by the arm and tugging him along. You pull him past clusters of townsfolk, ignoring their curious stares and keeping your gaze forward. He does not resist you.

After peering around an empty alley and inspecting it for any stragglers, you drag him into the stony darkness and nearly slam him against the wall. It’s not on purpose; you’re just reacting to the aftershocks of adrenaline.

You need to be alone to do something like this.

You’re so close to Aemond now that you’re breathing the same air as him, nearly pressed against his chest. You can smell his jasmine shampoo, can feel the warmth radiating from his body. You try to slow your breathing: in and out, to clear your head and push every doubt away.

When you find the courage to look straight at Aemond, you find that he’s already gazing at you.

The light is dim, though you can still make out his profile. You expect his violet eye to be full of mirth, akin to a wild animal staring back at its prey — but what Aemond offers you is righteous and noble. It causes you to prickle with eagerness and anxiety.

“Do not look at me like that,” you mumble.

“In what way?”

“That way.” You don’t even know what you’re referring to. You just want him to stop staring; it’s burning you up from the inside. “You always act like this when you feel like you have won.”

Aemond’s smirk grows before your eyes. His gaze flickers to the sliver of space between you, and then back to your face. “Sometimes I feel that you know me better than I know myself.”

You would let out a sneer if you weren’t so terrified; you need to uphold your side of the bet. You know it. And you definitely don’t want to give him the chance to tease you for your hesitation.

“Maybe I do,” you breathe. Then, grappling with every single piece of boldness you can find, you press your lips upon Aemond’s.

The kiss is resolute — there’s no way you were going to half-ass it — and you fall into him roughly, slamming each emotion you feel onto his mouth. He tenses a little, but then his hands rise to your arms, thumbs pressing into the sleeves of your tunic.

And then it’s over.

You break away from Aemond, almost shocked at yourself. Did that really just happen? Your blood pressure is through the roof, pulse thumping like a war drum.

You stare at him, and he stares right on back, both of you saying nothing. You can't look away, as frightened as you are. His expression is soft. So soft that it scares you, yet his eye darkens with interest.

You try to make a joke out of it, to rid yourself of this awkward feeling.

“With the way you are looking at me, My Prince, I would assume you actually like me,” you jest. It doesn’t work. Your brain is mush and the words are flimsy. Gods, you feel overheated.

Aemond only blinks, those silver lashes fluttering against his cheeks. It seems like he has come to a realization, and you don’t know what that is. He’s testing the waters; waiting to see if you will run away.

“And what then, My Lady?” he finally replies.

Your body gets hotter in an instant. The implications behind his words are enthralling, holding you in a death grip and making it impossible to speak. You’re searching for something to say, anything, but come up empty handed. Part of you is glad when he fills the silence.

“I must admit,” Aemond says slowly. “There is a certain quality to you. You seem unbreakable.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whisper.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Though there are times where I am not so certain.”

“Aemond…”

“Tell me: what do you think of me?” Aemond suddenly asks. It’s not commanding, not a demand. It just feels…personal. You’re not sure how else to describe it, the sound of him speaking so softly. Your ears are accustomed to your father's stern instructions and peoples’ jeers of your boyish antics. His tone sultry, he asks, “Do I make you nervous?”

“No—you don’t make me nervous,” you stutter. It’s hard to look him in the eye as the lie comes from your lips. “I do not really think of you much, honestly.”

“Hm.” Whether or not Aemond knows you’re lying, you have no idea. “You would be astonished then if you knew the ways I have thought about you.”

“What do you mean?”

Aemond takes in your expression, gaze flitting down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes. “Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” you say automatically. You’re not sure why you’re hoping for something more — something other than just empty insults and jests. Almost as if he knows what you’re thinking, Aemond leans in. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks.

“You are alluring when you ache for chaos. The flesh of your opponents are beneath your nails and their blood stains your teeth, and I can see you are a woman on fire.” His voice just above a whisper, breath hot against your cheek. “We are both made of flame. You have stolen my attention, my love.”

My love. He has never called you that before.

And it’s in this very second that you have an epiphany. How could you not have noticed it earlier? Felt it? How did you ignore the passion whenever this man talked, the warmth he conjured within you, how grateful you were that he treated you differently than others?

Aemond has feelings for you. And judging by how you are instantly filled with a massive amount of satisfaction, happiness, and excitement, you hold affections for him too.

But what is love, anyway? It must be the imprints someone creates inside of you—bruises, scars, gashes. Maybe he had maimed you in the same way, except you turned a blind eye to it. Truthfully, you never even thought you would experience something like this.

After all, love makes humans do terrible things, and you do not consider yourself to be that bloodthirsty. So much of it is violent; there’s the desire to be split apart, defiled, twisted, and reinvented by another person.

You have seen lovers approach one another in a wolflike manner, ravenous and feral for their attention. People who challenge their love get dragged in between them and flayed open without mercy. It’s terrifying, though it’s not watching the wolves tear others apart that scares you.

It’s knowing that you would do that for him.

Aemond boldly stares you down. “You are unaware to the extent I defend myself and my sentiments. How you manage to get the truth from me is rather peculiar.”

He suddenly reaches out and touches your cheek; he does it slowly, almost as if you are a beast trapped in a snare and he might scare you away.

Then Aemond moves his thumb to the corner of your mouth, before skimming it over your bottom lip and pulling it down slightly. He stares down at the inside of your lip — the sensitive, shiny flesh — wishing that he could brand his name there. If anyone tried to entertain you after, you could simply tug your lip down and show them who you belonged to.

This is not a simple bet anymore.

The urge to kiss Aemond again breaks free from within your system. Against your control, the impulse expresses itself in dirty thoughts that invade the most intimate parts of your body.

Quickly, you grab Aemond’s wrist and tug his hand away so you can press your lips to his once more.

“I hate you,” you breathe against him, holding his face between your hands as your noses brush together. “I hate you so much.”

Aemond retaliates accordingly; the way he licks into your mouth sends a shiver that ricochets throughout your body. He’s hot. So, so hot. His fingers cup the back of your neck to keep you close as your hands fly away from his face to hold every inch of him possible.

Aemond’s chest is warm, and his lips are scorching when he trails them over the corner of your mouth and then down your throat. You let your fingers roam to his hair, exploring the softness of each strand that drapes over his shoulder blades.

Aemond knows he’s getting a reaction out of you, that you are starting to feel the prickle of lust. It’s humiliating. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing you can be riled up so easily. It is not like Aemond would give in to your primal desires anyway; he cares too much about duty, about honor. The man follows house tradition — marriage comes before anything else. He is just toying with you now.

You break apart from him, something he surprisingly allows. You want to tell him that you love him, just so he knows. If only you had the ability to articulate such things.

“Is this all you wanted?” You ask instead. “A kiss from me?”

Aemond places his hands on your elbows to coax you back a bit further; he wishes to see you entirely. His hand then rises to your cheek, where his thumb strokes at the underside of your jaw. “I did not want just a kiss, darling,” he reassures.

“And for how long have you been thinking like this?” You steel yourself and continue more quietly. “How long have you loved me?”

“Since the boar hunt,” Aemond says without hesitation. “You begged your mother to let you join, and a girl said you might as well be a townsboy. You tackled her to the ground.”

“But that was the day we met.”

“It was.”

“…That is…quite a long time.”

Aemond only hums at that. The confession makes your heart flutter and threaten it to stop; you swallow down his words, grateful, and then try to collect yourself. You clear your throat. “My Prince—”

“Aemond,” he corrects.

“Aemond. I need you to know something.”

“And what is that, my love?”

“You can’t sweet talk me into wearing a dress. I will not do it.”

“You will.”

Damn it. He is really not going to give this up.

“I hope you burn in the Seven Hells,” you mutter. It’s a joke, of course. You can’t really be mad at him.

Aemond’s lips threaten to twitch into a smile. An emotion akin to pride rests in his eye. “I shall only go if you accompany me there.”

And maybe, just maybe, you were meant to burn together. Whatever your destiny is, one thing becomes very clear:

You will ruin him, and he will love you for it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagines #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #millie’s works — 📓

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obsessive-evie · 3 months

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GF KATE HEADCANONS

go thank @iminlovewithpaigebueckers, i also completely stole the formatting from her. ty twin

gf!kate def overheard you say/like a post that said hey mamas or mama, so she waits until she has you a little cocky to call you mamas just to see what happens it becomes her new addiction, especially lil mamas

gf!kate is a little shit

gf!kate sends you little facebook mom selfies whenever she travels

^^and/or vlogs and recaps when you guys can’t ft

gf!kate will learn your whole skincare routine just in case you need her to do it when you’re drunk

gf!kate appreciates feminine things and girly things: “i like that little sparkle, the white glitter it’s pretty,” while pointing to your inner corner highlight.

“you smell good,” when she catches you in passing or just when you’ve finished getting ready.

will sit on your bed helping you choose outfits… and will also cover her eyes when you get changed, all panicked just in case you don’t wanna be seen. doesn’t matter if you tell her it’s fine (she’s literally seen every inch of your skin) she’s sitting there with her hands over her eyes no peeking (maybe a single peek)

gf!kate will actually respect if you wanna pay or dress more masculine, she gets it. no stereotypes here!!

gf!kate will braid or curl your hair just to show her love and stare at you

^^^ for my textured hair girlies this includes how to do your edges!!! what products she needs to use on you!! how much!!!!

gf!kate is very white. gf kate will not understand certain slang or terms until you explain it to her. gf kate gets excited when she uses said slang correctly

gf!kate would make an attempt to read your favorite book when she’s traveling (i said attempt idk if she’s finish it i don’t know if she’s a reader or not) in my head she is simply bc i read a book a day and i make the rules here

gf!kate will also try your music taste!!

gf!kate loves buying her girl lingerie. she doesn’t give a FUCK abt prices or if you’re nervy. kinda goes with the femininity thing, she’d like to see you in lacey things and pretty colors and such

gf!kate is the biggest hype woman, genuinely thinks you are perfect (BUT IS STILL A WOMAN AND WILL UNDERSTAND HORMONES AND INSECURITIES)

gf!kate is a fan of traditional things: flowers, treating her girl to date nights she plans, she’s always driving, lowkey would ask your parent/parent figure/ important person in your life to marry you, not in a possessive way but in the way that she thinks it’s polite and necessary

gf!kate loves visiting her girls family, and they love her, no matter how crazy they are

gf!kate can fixate on your boobs or thighs or hips and just lay and kiss for forever they’re her fav place to nap, and let’s be real my girls napping a lot

gf!kate likes to hover and stare and just watch you do your thing in your habitat (you call her national geographic for a reason)

NSFW

gf kate lovesssss to give head, she just loves making you feel good and making you squirm, she also loves hearing you get loud, won’t ask you to be loud tho. but she’ll never tell you to not cover your mouth if you try to cover it, she just takes it as you trying to stay comfortable

gf kate will braid your hair before fucking you so she has something to pull 🫣

gf kate tries really hard to stay more controlling when she’s topping but she still gets shy sometimes and is also dying (she’s so turned on she can barely think)

gf kate is kind of afraid to be mean to you, she just feels too bad

gf kate will never proposition sex, she might hint at it or have that look in her eye, but she’d rather sit and be horny than ask you when you don’t want to

gf kate would go so far as to get herself off in the bathroom or shower just so she doesn’t bother you if she knows you’re not in the mood or on your period

gf kate gets worked up fast but tries to take it slower to make her girl feel good

gf kate likes phone calls and guided/mutual masterbation

gf kate takes a whilleeeeee to stop being shy when you top, specifically when you go down on her she’s so nervous and can’t look at you (go check out my fic if you like this one)

gf kate cannot handle it when you kiss her neck, like at all. especially when she’s fucking you if you kiss her neck she’d get all breathy and try to pretend like she doesn’t keep stalling and pausing her thrusts

gf kate also cannot handle it when you bite or kiss her shoulders, arms, and back. like that’s the way to get her to melt

gf kate will eat her girl out to hozier, fuck her girl to hozier, and let her girl fuck her to hozier

gf kate is adorable

#kate martin #kate martin my beloved #kate martin headcanons #i forgot to post this like a week ago #don’t hate me i don’t have a brain okay #twin !!!#100% stole her layouts #stole the last one as well #wcbb #active era!!

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snowsinterlude · 5 months

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🪻 - violet roses and bleeding hearts.

(incel coriolanus snow x reader)

summary: no one knew how sweet your boyfriend could be. even if he was a raging misogynistic incel.

based on this ask !

c.w: incel coriolanus, mentions to misoginy, fluff, short fic, coryo being a sweetheart (most parts), couple content, some slight mentions to sex, slight punching

whilst everyone asked you why you were with coriolanus snow, the biggest incel of the academy and also one of the smartest and prettiest nerds, you knew you had him on the palm of your hand.

he was a terrible person towards woman, of course. he always had something to say towards others but never towards you. no, no.

you were his muse. his goddess. it is safe to say that he adored you, loved you so much it was a joke. it seemed fun to you that you both started talking because of an argument about clothes and the way femininity should be performed.

of course, it didn't end very well, you punched him in the face after he said something about traditional woman and that punch was enough for him to be head over heels to you. acting like a puppy with you and an angry pitbull towards others. he never thought much abbout others, but you? ma'am, ever since that punch, you had him on your bare feet.

he was a virgin mess before you met him, and he still is a mess but a more controled one- at least with you.

he knows his way with words. and acts! he loves giving you roses and huge bouquets of his grandma'am white roses, however, when he thought it was too much white, he turned to the one thing he knew you loved:

violet roses and bleeding hearts.

"y/n," he called you, voice a bit hitched from his excitement. it's been days since he wanted to see you, and he looked like a lost puppy without you around. however, he looked at your clothes up and down, the big hoodie and the sweatpants calling his attention as he frowned a bit and gulped down.

you noticed that, anyway. "what is it, coryo? is there something wrong with my clothes?" you asked.

obviously, he was ready to answer that question. he was always ready to make a really sweet comment or a really rude one. you knew him. always getting into people's weardrobe as if he has a full one.

"aren't those clothes a bit masculine, my love?" he asked, brows still knitted together. very cute for him.

"i don't think so, they're so comfortable." you said, comforting yourself into the hoodie and smelling it's perfume.

"okay, you're right, love. as always" he said, praying internally that this wouldn't be the outfit you were going to use for you both to go out.

it was worse. but at least it was something a girl would use.

your dress was quite short. white, above the knee, tight, hugging every curve you had while your hair was turned in a bun, high on your neck. pretty. somehow, erotic.

"th...that's..." he stared at you, up and down and down and up all over.

"yes? what is it now?" you asked, hand on your waist as you waited for whatever he had to say.

your sweet boyfriend, who always had something to say about women's clothing, was staring at your body the hole time. he was a bit jealous, he didn’t want to let anyone see you.

"babe, what if we stay here?" he asked, hands on your waist. you weren't against that idea, but you were ready now and didn't had the means, needs or will to go back. "i'll be a good boy, please. let's just stay home."

god he was so cute calling himself a good boy- needless to say he wasn't a good boy.

he was already there, bouquet in front of his body.

"bleeding hearts," you beamed, smiling. "my favorite ones."

"yes, yes. brought them yesterday" he said, kissing your temple. "now, can we j-just.. stay at home?"

"why?"

"you're too pretty. i don't want others to see you dressed like that."

"like that..?"

"like that, yeah. like... i don't know?" he seemed to think for a long time, but he still didn’t had anything to say "like a..."

"like a slut?"

"yeah- wait, no. stop." you laughed, letting him frown and hugging him. "we'll talk about it later, babe. let's stay at home ok?"

"okay" he was more than happy to obey, kissing your lips and laying his head on your lap.

he was yours, in a way that nobody knew. nobody suspected that this boy was so weak for you, especially with the atrocities he spoke. still, he was yours. entirely yours.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 4 months

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Kinkuary Day 7

AN: Shoutout to that one time Elv and I spoke about Mingyu wearing lace panties months ago. It was a big inspiration for this, and it's been rotating in my brain since then.

Synopsis: After a lot of encouragement and motivation from you, Mingyu finally tries out something in your bedroom that he's been curious about for some time now.

General tags and warnings: Kim Mingyu x Fem! Reader, established relationship and that's it honestly lol. This is very much pwp.

Primary kink: Crossdressing.

Smut tags and warnings: Dom leaning! Reader, sub leaning! Mingyu, Mingyu in feminine lingerie, nipple play (m. and f. receiving), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, Reader cries very briefly due to being overwhelmed, dirty talk, some praise, hints of a size and a strength kink, brief manhandling and creampie.

Word count: 2.5k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

To say you're excited would be a gross understatement.

Exhilaration would probably be the best way to describe what you're feeling and even it doesn't adequately convey the feeling of your heart thundering in your chest and your blood simmering in your veins.

“Gyu, are you done?” You call out to your boyfriend. Hoping you don't sound too antsy or impatient. His comfort means more to you than anything else and you'd gladly wait as long as it takes for him.

“Y-Yeah um I'm coming out now,” comes his timid response. Before you can reassure him that he can take his time, he steps out of your shared bathroom. Stopping all of the air in your lungs and causing your heart to leap all the way up to your throat.

Mingyu is a gorgeous man. It still boggles your mind a little that he's a real person who exists. He looks beautiful no matter what but, now? With the lingerie the two of you spent hours agonising over adorning his massive frame? You don't think you've ever been more attracted to him in your entire life.

“Gyu,” you whisper, scanning his entire body from head to toe just to commit every detail to memory, “you look beautiful.”

The blush that colours his cheeks somehow makes him look even more gorgeous and you really don't think you can handle not touching him any longer.

“Come here, baby,” you command softly, shuffling backwards onto your shared bed. Desire coiling in the pit of your stomach as he follows you without any more prompting. The lace stretching across his large frame with every movement he makes.

You knew pink would be his colour.

Despite the embarrassment you could feel radiating from him earlier, Mingyu lets you kiss him easily. Melting against your mouth within seconds while you spread your thighs for him to make himself at home between. His large hands already desperately clutching your waist as your tongue snakes its way into his mouth. Commiting the taste of him to memory like you haven't kissed him hundreds of thousands of times before.

“My pretty boy. You look so gorgeous,” you mutter against his lips. Giggling into him when he flinches and hisses in slight pain after you snap his bra against his skin. Always so responsive. Any reply to your words is cut short by quiet gasps when you kiss along his jaw and throat. Licking and biting at every bit of skin you can.

You can feel yourself growing wetter with every whimper he lets out and shudder of him beneath your touch. It's all made worse by the hardness you can start to feel pressing against your bare slit.

An idea springs to mind and you grin wolfishly into his throat before using momentum to roll him onto his back. He blinks up at you. You'd take a few minutes to simply appreciate how endearing he looks under the lowlight of your bedroom but, you're a woman on a mission.

Mingyu moans into your mouth when your hands shove up the bra that stretches across his muscular chest. His hips bucking up into you when you palm his pecs greedily. Smiling against his lips when he shivers as your fingers lightly brush over his nipples. Mingyu's sensitivity has always been a fascination of yours. Even after being together for so many years, he's still so responsive to even your faintest touches.

You bite down on his plump lips in time with your fingers tugging on his nipples and his reaction is immediate. His hands jump from where they were fisting your sheets to gripping your thighs. Digging into their thickest parts while your fingers continue to toy with his sensitive nipples and you teasingly nip at his lip until it starts to bruise.

He whines once you separate from his lips but you soothe him with a few kisses along his jaw and neck. Determined not to get distracted this time, you continue your descent until your lips come in contact with the lace of his bra. Your clit pulses when you glance up only to find his eyes staring at you with enough intensity to stop your heart briefly. Maintaining eye contact, you kiss your way to one of his nipples.

Mingyu is the first one to look away.

His eyes flutter shut when you envelope his nipple in your mouth while your fingers continue to tug and pinch his other nipple. God, everything about him tastes delicious. Maybe you're biased. Maybe you're too far gone for him but, you're convinced Mingyu was made to melt in your mouth. Every part of him.

Based on the way he squirms underneath you and grinds his large cock against you in search of any kind of friction, you think he agrees. Your body moves against his without much input from your brain. Grinding onto him to help ease some of the dull throbbing at the apex of your thighs. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you drink in every minute shift in his expression. Especially when you swap over to his other nipple and give it the same treatment.

A strangled curse is punched from the depths of his chest when you run your teeth along his nipple. His hands shifting from your thighs to your ass. Clutching at you in an attempt to ground himself but, also to press you down onto his length. You can't help the moan that leaves your mouth when he clumsily bumps against your clit. The stimulation causing electricity to fire all along your spine.

Briefly, you allow yourself to get lost in the frenzied grinding and continue to lavish his chest with bites and sucks while your hands palm at him. His breathy whimpers and moans shoot straight to your already throbbing clit and you can feel yourself growing impatient. As much as you're enjoying having your mouth on his beautiful chest, you have another goal in mind. So, with a great deal of strength, you continue your descent down his body. Kissing down his stomach and smiling when he flinches away when you brush against a spot that's ticklish for him.

It's pavlovian the way spit starts to pool in your mouth when you reach the waistband of his panties. They looked phenomenal on him already but, with his big cock straining against the translucent lace, he looks absolutely filthy. You make a note to ask him later if he'd let you take pictures of him in this set. Or any other sets you can convince him to try on. Mingyu props himself up on his arms to watch you as you mouth at him through the fabric. Dark eyes committing every detail of this scene to memory while his thoroughly kissed lips part.

“Fuck, baby I– your mouth feels so good,” he groans, his jaw clenching when you lick his tip through the fabric. You're sure his panties are ruined now with a mix of his pre-cum and your copious amounts of spit but, you couldn't care less. You'll buy all the panties in the world for him if it means having him like this. Having teased him and yourself enough, you tug them off of him. Mingyu lifts his hips readily, just as ready as you are for whatever you're planning to give him. The panties rest just above where his stockings start and the sight of that sends one of your hands in-between your sticky thighs. Your fingers pressing into your clit in time with your other hand grasping his thick cock. Fuck. To think when you two started dating his cock used to intimidate you. Now you can't imagine anything except excitement coursing through your veins at the sight of it.

Your fingers rub circles into your clit at the same pace as your hand strokes him. It's not nearly enough for him based on his frustrated whines and jerky thrusts of his hips into your hold but, you haven't quite had your fun yet. Picking up your pace marginally, you choose then to take his tip into your mouth. Moaning around him at the taste that hits your tongue. It's so Mingyu and your fingers pick up their pace as well. You could spend hours sucking him off if he'd let you. The weight and taste of him in your mouth always makes your brain so fuzzy.

A choked whimper of your name leaves his lips as you sink further down on him. The gagging sound of him hitting the back of your throat forces a guttural sound from him and his fingers weave themselves into your hair. Mingyu, ever the sweetheart, doesn't push you further down onto him. If anything, he uses his hold on you to ground himself as you move up and down on him. It's messy and dirty and you're pretty sure your jaw is going to ache like hell tomorrow but, it's all worth it.

He shallowly thrusts into your mouth and fist, high-pitched apologies spilling from his lips every time you accidentally choke around him. You want to tell him it's fine. That you don't mind in the slightest. However, you don't think it's worth it to detach yourself from him. So, you hope your watery eyes communicate enough.

The emptiness is starting to hurt so, you push three of your fingers into your dripping entrance. They don't provide nearly enough of a stretch, especially compared to Mingyu's fingers and cock but, it'll have to do for now. It's much better than being completely empty and the stretch your fingers provide makes you moan around him. Your pace falters momentarily while you savour the sensation of your fingers and grind your clit down onto the heel of your palm. Mingyu happily picks up your slack. Fucking your mouth faster while he throws himself back into the mountain of pillows he's resting on.

You can read Mingyu like the back of your hand. Actually, you're certain you know him better than the back of your hand. When his cock starts throbbing more incessantly and his thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier, you know he's getting close.

So, you tighten your grip on the base of his cock and remove your mouth from him. His eyes are wide, watery and wild when they meet yours. You would laugh at the pout on his handsome face if you weren't too busy catching your breath and dealing with the slight sting settling in the back of your throat. Once your lungs have greedily inhaled as much air as they can, you crawl your way up his body and slot your mouth against his. Mingyu groans into you, tasting himself on your tongue while you drag your dripping folds along his bare cock.

“Gyu,” you moan into his mouth, “I want you to be a good boy and fuck m–” before you can finish your sentence, you find yourself on your back with your boyfriend towering over you. His large hands drag you in place until he's between your thighs. His eyes never leave your face. Zeroing in on every shift in your expression as he starts to push himself into you. Even after all these years, you can't help the way your fingers claw at his muscular back and your lips part readily when he sinks into you.

He leans down to kiss you, pressing his own sounds of pleasure into you until he's completely inside of you. “Gyu fuck you feel so good,” you moan into his mouth, desire clawing at your insides with every pulse of his massive cock and his hands spanning themselves along your hips. “Always make me feel so full,” you whimper, tears rolling down your face at the sheer intensity you're feeling. A sound from somewhere deep in his chest is ripped from him and he snaps his hips into you harshly. Starting a punishing pace while his hands tug your gown up to collarbones so he can kiss and lick your breasts. Giving you a taste of your own medicine as the obscene noises of his cock splitting you open ring in your ears.

“So pretty. So beautiful. Feel so tight and wet around my dick. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” he babbles into your spit smeared skin. Using his strength to his advantage to keep you pressed exactly where he wants you. The juxtaposition of this large, ridiculously strong man who you're head over heels in love with dressed up in one of the most delicate sets you've ever seen makes your head spin. The thought is enough to cause your hand to weasel its way between your two, sweat drenched, overheated bodies until your fingers find your swollen clit again.

Mingyu mutters a string of curses into your breasts when he feels the way your pussy grips him like a vice. Pulling away from you just so that he can see the way you bring yourself closer to the edge. Thoroughly kissed lips parted with your barely open eyes glossy with desire. Despite the way his balls seize at the sight, he's determined for you to cum first. He won't let himself go any other way.

So, he exploits a few weaknesses he's picked up on over the years.

A startled gasp flies from your lips when Mingyu uses his strength to shove your legs into your chest. You can already feel the angle starting to cause a burn to settle into your thighs. But fuck, does it push him impossibly deeper into you. Between that and his canines digging into your neck, it's only a matter of time until your vision blurs and your entire body free falls underneath him.

Mingyu fucks you through it all. Drawing out your climax with strokes that aren't nearly as quick but haven't dropped an ounce in intensity. All you can do is lie there and take it. Clenching and unclenching your sheets between your sweaty fists as your thighs shake underneath his somehow steady hold. You're too far gone to make out exactly what comes out of your mouth but, apparently it's enough for Mingyu to shove his face in the hollow between your neck and your shoulder and cum inside of you.

His hoarse whimpers and groans of your name unintentionally cause your walls to clamp down on him further. It's not like you can help it. How are you not going to react to your beautiful boyfriend saying your name like that while also cumming inside of you? You're only human after all.

His hold on you loosens after some time and you feel him sag against you. His cock softens inside of you but Mingyu is in no hurry to move. Humming in appreciation when your fingers toy with his hair and pressing kisses into your shoulder.

“Gyu, I love you and all but, my thighs hurt,” you say with a laugh, giggling when he profusely apologises and removes your legs from where they were pressed into your chest. Resuming his position on top of you like you're his own personal body pillow.

You know you need to get up and clean yourselves up but, you're happy to lie here and bask in his affection for just a bit longer.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

#kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu x reader smut #mingyu x reader smut #seventeen x reader smut

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spicycinnabun · 2 months

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pt. 1 2 3 4 5 6 💐

When Steve got home, Robin had soup waiting for him. He was beyond grateful for a nice warm meal at the end of the day. He had been short with her during their shift—Steve could be a real grump when he was sick—so he apologized for being a dingus.

While they ate, Steve put on their favorite show: Head of the Class. Robin told him he'd make a good teacher every time they watched it. Maybe he would've considered becoming one if he had gotten into college.

The next day was Sunday, and the store was closed. Finally, a much-needed day off. Steve’s plan was to stay in and help Robin pack up her entire life—again. He’d helped her move into his apartment after she’d graduated in the spring.

They both knew living together was temporary, but that hadn’t stopped Steve from getting used to how things were and not wanting them to change.

Robin had spent most of the time they were living and working together trying to convince him to come with her. Instead of living in the dorms, she suggested they get an apartment in the city together. That way, they’d still be there to support each other and could afford it by continuing to split the rent.

If only Steve wasn’t running his mother’s dream business. He couldn’t bring himself to commit to Robin’s plan. He wanted to, but mostly because it would feel even more like hell in Hawkins without her. Besides her, all Steve had left were the kids, and they would eventually go off to college, too.

When it was official that he wasn’t going to go, Steve put up a flier to find another roommate.

He’d been relying on Robin too much. With her and Nancy gone that fall, maybe he could get a life of his own. As much as he’d miss them, he was in too deep to abandon the shop and his mom.

He’d come to love his job. He never thought he’d love anything about working, but he’d found something he was good at—something that most days didn't even feel like work. He was helping people and bringing joy to others. He liked taking care of flowers, too; seeing them grow and bloom and then go off to finish their purpose.

Back in Robin’s room, she was going through her bookshelf, contemplating every single book she had and throwing most of them in a box that would go with her. Steve didn’t know how he was going to lift it to his car on moving day.

“Robs, I’m pretty sure you won’t need any of your books. You’re going to a big school full of nerdy, smart people just like you. Of course the place is gonna have a library. Although… I’m not sure that they’re going to have this book.” Steve looked at it, brows raising suspiciously. There was a muscular man standing proudly on the cover. Kinda feminine, with long flowing hair. He was embracing a woman with a very ample bosom.

Robin snatched the book from him, face flushing, and dropped it in the box. Steve didn’t get an explanation, but they continued to chit-chat.

Random objects kept triggering Robin’s memory, sparking tales that Steve listened to intently. He laughed when she read out loud from her diary the passage about her massive crush on Tammy Thompson.

Steve sang like a muppet, interrupting her just to get her to laugh with him while he arranged her clothes so neatly it was like they were the most complicated flower arrangement he’d ever crafted. Getting every piece of clothing into her suitcase almost felt like Tetris. It was satisfying when he got it closed. Luckily, Robin wasn’t a stereotypical girl with a lot of clothing anyway.

When she went to pack up the bathroom, Steve was so focused that he nearly missed the phone ringing. There was one in his bedroom that was closer than the one in the kitchen, so he got up and ran into his room to catch the call.

Still being sick, Steve was breathless by the time he was able to grab the phone. He sat down on his bed and took a deep breath before he answered. He wasn’t sure who it could be, but his eyes widened as he listened to the person on the other end. The name made him pause: Eddie. Oh.

That was familiar, wasn’t it?

He was about to speak when a sneeze snuck up on him. He pulled out the hanky he’d been favoring ever since it had been given to him. He blocked the receiver, cursed softly, and blotted his nose as it hit him: it was the hanky giver himself on the other end.

“Hey, Eddie! Yes, this is Steve from Harrington Floral,” he replied, smiling a bit. He was chomping at the bit to find out if Eddie’s uncle had gotten engaged. “Did your uncle pop the question last night?”

Forget that Eddie was calling him to find out about his roommate vacancy—he had to know if there was any good news. Steve laughed excitedly when Eddie confirmed that it did indeed happen and that his uncle had visited the flower shop that morning.

“Oh! Your uncle is Wayne? He is the sweetest guy! I didn’t know he was going to propose. He damn near cleared us out of roses! At least now I know it was for a very good reason!”

If Eddie had a nickel for every time he’d heard someone call his uncle sweet, he would’ve been broke. Most people judged Wayne by his surly exterior, just like they judged Eddie by his style and taste in music.

It made Eddie like Steve more, and he could feel a genuine smile stretch across his face. “His fiancée loved them, man. I can pretty much guarantee they’ll choose you to flowerise their wedding. And he’ll be back to buy another bouquet from you as soon as those roses wilt.”

He’d seen the determination in his uncle’s eyes. Wayne wasn’t the type to back down from his words. Kathleen was going to be getting bouquets for the rest of her life. They wouldn’t all be as extravagant as the first one, sure, but she would be spoiled as much as Wayne was able.

“I really appreciate the business,” Steve said, “and because you came on the same day, it just shows that you’re both equally sweet and thoughtful. Happy to hear that he’ll be a repeat customer. Maybe you will be, too?”

Eddie ducked his head. If he had a nickel for every time someone had called him sweet, he would be double broke. It was likely just a salesman’s tactic, but the flattery was pleasurable regardless.

He wondered if Steve would be put off by him if he knew Eddie hadn’t given the flowers to anyone and had kept them for himself like a loser.

“I’ll be back,” he confirmed. And not just because he had a quickly escalating crush on the man in charge. Those Black-eyed Susans on his mother’s grave still looked as fresh as the day he’d bought them. Eddie coiled the phone cord around his finger. “So, turns out I really didn’t need that free bouquet.”

“Guess you didn’t.” Steve was giddy about the news. He loved that the shop's flowers were a big part of the proposal. “Even better that you didn’t pay for them.”

Steve wondered if Eddie had given them to the bride. Given how impressive the ones his uncle bought were, probably not. Maybe Eddie had someone else to give them to.

Steve had nearly forgotten why Eddie had called until Robin appeared in his doorway. He gave her a glum look at the reminder. “You called about the room, though, right?”

Despite having the flier up for almost two weeks, Steve hadn’t had a prospect for a roommate until then. It was kind of a relief to get an inquiry from someone he’d at least seen in person.

“Yeah. I live with Wayne right now, so I’m going to be cramping his style pretty soon if I don’t skedaddle, what with his new bride and all.” Eddie laughed quietly, tapping his fingers on the table.

Steve made a noise of understanding. “My roommate is moving out next weekend. She’s going off to college... You’re the first person who’s called me about it, so if you’re free today, you can come see the place?”

Eddie’s fingers tapped harder. The prospect of being in constant close quarters with a guy he was into was somewhat dangerous. It would either be fun or complete torture.

Or both. Probably both. Eddie had to go for it.

“I can come see it today. What time and where?”

He remembered what area the apartment was located in from the ad, but he couldn’t remember the street name.

Eddie stood up, spinning in a circle to try and find a pen and paper. Of course, there was nothing close by, and he ended up getting tangled in the phone cord instead and had to spin in the opposite direction to unwind himself. Idiot. “Hang on, just let me grab something to write down the address.”

“No problem.” Steve waited patiently, chuckling a little when he heard noises on the other end of the line. Sounded kinda chaotic.

It took way too long, but Eddie eventually found a ballpoint pen in one of Wayne’s jackets. He rushed to grab the phone again. “Sorry, sorry, I’m ready now.” He uncapped the pen with his teeth, using his arm as a notepad to scribble the address down. “Alright, got it. I’ll see you soon.”

🌷🪻🌻🌹

co-writing this with @batty4steddie 💕

#fic #wybmb #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie au #florist au #florist!steve harrington #and then they were roommates #🚪#❤️

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emsgwenstan · 6 months

Text

Personal or professional?

Chap 1 | chap 2 | chap 3

Larissa Weems x fem(carpenter/joiner) named reader.

Words: 2k

Warnings: bodily issues, swearing.

Note: imma b honest I’m filling In for the parts I want to write. I’m not there yet. Just know there will be a few things coming within the next few chapters! Xx

———

Just as I was thinking about how ridiculously bold it was for me to put my number on that cup, I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket once I returned home.

‘Meet me at the weathervane in your lunch break tomorrow?~Larissa’

My eyes went wide as I re-read the message over and over until I realise that she can see if I’ve viewed it, I quickly replied.

‘Sure, 12:30? Are you sure you have time?’

Immediately it was seen and I waited in anticipation once the three little dots popped up.

‘That’s fine, even if I don’t I will always make time darling.”

I didn’t know exactly what to reply, so I just turned off my phone and threw it on my bed, I could feel my face flushing at the thought of her. I stripped off and got ready for a shower, the chill of the room raising goosebumps along my skin, the tile floor of the bathroom freezing the soles of my feet, stepping in, I let out a hum at the hot water encapsulating my body finally letting myself relax against the wall, ridding myself of the day, not that it was so bad.

Once out, dried off and dressed, I jump into bed not bothering with dinner, being far to exhausted to cook or order anything, I snuggle into my thick duvet and flick on the tv to half watch and listen to another true crime story. It isn’t always ideal to watch this stuff when I live alone, especially as a woman, but there’s something oddly calming about it, even if I get slightly paranoid. After a while I fell asleep at around 8:00pm, but woke at around 12 to turn the tv off.

———

The next morning I woke up earlier than usual to perfect my simple make up, applying a layer of foundation and mascara, the smallest bit of matte pink lipstick and to be sure to have every hair on my head in place held in a slicked back ponytail. ‘I just hope this will last for at least 8 hours, the next 4 don’t matter.’ I thought.

Throwing on my black jeans and fluoro pink work shirt, as well as a baggy pink and black work wear jacket, I glance at myself in the floor length mirror, every time I do I see nothing I like, nothing pretty, nothing special, I feel like I must be such a curiosity to other people, my job, my height, my weight, my strange mix of masculinity and femininity, I know I’m not skinny or thin but I’m not that big either, anymore at least. The stretch marks on my stomach, thighs and breasts are the things I try so hard to cover up. I can’t help but wonder why anyone would want to be with or associate around someone like me, even if I personally don’t discriminate against what people look like. That also brings me to ponder why Larissa asked to have lunch with me today.

I think my collar bone length, warm blond hair is probably the only thing I change often or really take care of, I try to do my nails and keep them clean and presentable, always painted in a nude pink, which is ironic considering i don’t actually like the colour. I change the studs in all of my piercings, rotating the gold from small hoops to diamonds. My hands are scared and calloused from 22 years of working with rough materials as well as my legs and forearms, I guess I’ve no need to be jealous or overthink about others body’s or physique’s I’m a grown woman after all, but the insecurity is always at the forefront of my mind.

After traipsing out of the house, I finally made it into work at 5am, turning on all the lights and compressors and the radio I listen to until 9, it goes off once my boss turns up. “No music in the factory Violet.” He’d say, which is bullshit, it’s so fucking boring without it. Walking into the shop’s kitchenette, I flick on the kettle to make my morning tea in a travel cup and tap my fingers on the bench in waiting. It’s already freezing today, the cold seeping through my layers of clothing and apparently the concrete walls, yesterday was warm enough to wear shorts and go without a jumper.

Consulting with my boss about the order needing to be placed for the cupboards going to nevermore was nauseating, It took a lot longer than usual because of all the questions he asked about yesterday afternoon. “So how was going to the school for strange kids yesterday?” He asked sarcastically, not looking up from his computer. “Their not strange, their just different to you. And it was fine, obviously got all the information we need.” I said annoyed. “Right.” After a long pause he spoke again. “Miss Weems seemed to enjoy your presence, she didn’t shut up about the stuff you showed her.” I was perplexed and rolled my eyes. “Well at least someone appreciates it.” I said under my breath looking down at my thighs picking bits of lint and sawdust off the material. He was quiet after that.

12:15 rolled around, I grabbed the keys to my personal car and popped back into his office to tell him I’m going on break, it was so nice on the short walk in the sun. I jumped in my black Mercedes sports car and made my way down the street, turning a few corners I parked outside the wethervane and locked the car before entering the cafe. Larissa wasn’t there yet, so I took a seat in a booth next to the large window with my back turned to the door.

Staring out the glass and watching the towns people walk about, some in tandem with each other holding hands, some parents with young children or strollers, a few elderly people walking in groups giving the impression of being friends for years going for a walk with their wife’s arms wrapped around there husbands. One in particular caught my attention, a young man who looks to be in his early 20s exiting the florist bearing a bunch of white roses, his demeanour riddled with nerves, he sat at a park bench close to the other side of the road, pulling out a little black box, he observed it for a moment before snapping it shut, than stood smoothing down his hair and blazer before walking away. A small smile crept on my face hoping all goes well for his next obvious destination, but it quickly faded in a realisation, which I wish to forget.

A hand on my shoulder ripped me out of my mind, turning my head around I see her. Larissa. A huge grin took over my face clearly out doing her small smile. “Afternoon violet.” She greeted. “Hi.” I responded sounding so high pitched I internally cringe at myself. Larissa placed her purse on the surprisingly unsticky table and takes a seat in front of me. “How are you darling.” She asked removing a black leather glove. “I’m alright, not particularly busy today which is pretty good but that just means the day will drag a lot longer, better now I’m here with you though.” I said, staring at her beautifully red painted nails. “Oh that’s horrible, you must get lonely in there by yourself no?” She stated. “It’s nice, but sometimes I wish I had someone to talk to. Don’t you get lonely? Being in your office?” I asked wondering why she’d worry about me when I’m sure she’s in the same position. “Not at all, I have teachers, students, parents, groundskeepers and just about every other kind of person in and out all day, sometimes it gets so frustrating I put a ‘do not disturb’ sign on my door just for at least five minutes of peace.” She exhaled slightly rolling her eyes at the thought, I nodded in understanding, chuckling softly at her annoyance.

Idle conversations flowed between the two of us before we were politely interrupted by a waiter handing over two menus. “What are you having.” I asked her. “A chicken Cesar salad. You?- Oh and I’m paying by the way… you bought me things yesterday.” She stated. “There’s no need really.” I answered. “I insist what would you like.” She pushed. “Probably just a grilled cheese.” I said. “No. Don’t think I don’t know that’s the cheapest thing here, get what you want sweetheart.” My pulse skipped then ran faster at her new term of endearment, I felt like I was melting from the inside out. “Fine I’ll just have the same as you please.” I settled, displaying a shy smile. I didn’t care about the food really, I don’t plan on letting her see me as a naive and difficult thing who can’t pay for myself or play her as a fool, I guess that’s just what happens when you’re completely independent for a long period of time. “Are you sure? you can have anything.” She asked again. “Positive, thank you.” Larissa waved over the previous waiter and ordered for the both of us, we ate once our meals arrived and sat in comfortable silence.

Larissa did in fact pay, she left no room for argument and we both walked out together into the fresh, crisp air and warm sun. “Do you need to go back just yet?” She asked. “No I think having a break over half an hour would be fine considering how much overtime I do that I don’t get payed for.” I chuckled trying to come off lighthearted, but it sounded more bitter than I intended. “What do you mean? What are your allocated hours?” Larissa stoped the slow pace causing me to walk a little in front and turn around to face her concerns. “Allocated… 7:30 to 5, but I usually get to work around 5 and finish at 7.” I said furrowing my brows. “Why?” I ask. Larissa was silent for a moment. “So your telling me you work 12 to 13 hours every day? When your only supposed to be doing 9 and a half?” She asked incredulously. “Yes.” I said almost immediately realising that wouldn’t seem right or normal to anyone else who doesn’t know what it’s like to do my job. I laughed at her, not in a rude way but at her worry. “How do you do that!? You work almost 70 hours a week!” Her eyes growing widder with the facts she’s coming to know. “I’m fine. I manage.” I simply said turning to walk a bit more for her to follow, at this point there is no destination.

“You look gorgeous today, channel right?” I asked, pulling my hand out of my pocket to point at her outfit, a ploy for a change of subject. “Yes, thank you. How did you know that?” She asked. “Just like I know your heels are louboutins, your watch is Valentino, your bracelet it Cartier and your broach is probably the hardest to guess I’m not quite sure about that one, but I know your necklace is personally made. Oh and your pearl earrings are vintage Tiffany & co.” I stated proudly hoping I wasn’t wrong. “You continue to surprise me Violet. First your this strong independent woman who can build an entire house and the interior with you bare hands and now your a fashion expert, what else don’t I know?” She said with an amuse smile. “There is a lot you don’t know about me Larissa, but what ls the fun in letting you in on all my secrets just yet? Who knows, I could be very boring.” I giggled. She shook her head gently and placed her gloved hand on my arm. “You are the most interesting person I’ve been around for quite some time darling, I don’t believe you could ever be a bore.” At that i blushed furiously letting out a foggy exhale.

Larissa was the epitome of ethereal, the way her eyes look so piercing in the sunlight almost as if they were so blue they could be mistaken for white, her porcelain skin illuminated as well as her platinum hair. Right now her nose and cheeks are flushed red and her lips displaying the same shade she had painted on herself, I hoped anyway, their a little swollen due to the cold. “Hey, can I ask you a random question?” I asked timidly hoping it’s not to weird. “Of course you can.” She said. “Do you…ahhh, do you have…someone, like-.” I struggled to spit it out. “A girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, wife, partner?… no sweetheart.” She continued on, laughing at my shy state. “Right… that what I was trying to say, and how is that, wouldn’t you have plenty of people lined up for you? surely.” I exaggerated. “So your a flatterer to I see.” She gasped feigning herself from being to serious.

About two seconds later Larissa looked away and her attention was taken by the front of the Jericho book shop and Library, she moved so quickly to snatch my wrist and drag me in the direction of the entrance. “Woah, you could have just asked me to come with you.” I just about snorted. “I’m sorry come on I haven’t been in her for ages, please!” The sparkle in her eyes showing unwavering hope. “Of course I’ll come I love books to ya know.” I grinned. “Well that’s another thing I just learned about you.” She said holding the door open for me.

It was so warm and cozy inside, the smell of a vanilla candle that was placed next to the register and the scent of paper was almost nostalgic, I hadn’t been in here for a while either. Larissa ended up in-front of me and I don’t think she realised she held out her hand behind her for me to take. After mild contemplation I took it, Larissa immediately tightened her grip, pulling me along with her to a section she clearly has been down before. She let go of my hand a crouched to the wooden floor removing her gloves again so she could feel the spines of the books.

Larissa was in her element, completely enraptured in her own world. I let her be and scanned the shelves above her, taking an interest to one that was a royal blue colour with gold embossed lettering, I placed my palm on her shoulder to stabilise myself and stood on my tip toes to reach it, admiring for a moment before I could read the blurb, Larissa gasped in excitement. “Yes, I found it!” She exclaimed. “What is it?” I asked. “I hid this book almost a year ago because I didn’t want to buy it at the time.” She said looking up at me. ‘she’s so bloody adorable.’

I helped her off the floor and we moved back to the register. “So what do you have?” She asked. “Um I think it’s a book of poetry, I flicked through it and read one, I like it.” I said. “You should read me one.” She smiled. Before I could respond a little lady with grey hair and a long green cardigan came walking behind the counter from what I assumed was the ‘back’. “Oh Larissa! How are you dear!?” She said surprised. “Francis! I’m well how are you?” She responded, it would be silly to think they weren’t aquatinted. “I’m doing ok, finally got that hip replacement back in may, working like I’m a teenager again.” She said. I quietly chuckled. “That’s wonderful.” Larissa replied placing her book on the counter. “And who’s this lovely lady with you?” She asked. “Oh forgive me, violet this is Francis, fran, this is violet, she’s making the new classroom cupboards for nevermore.” Larissa was almost proud to be able to introduce you to someone. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I said holding out my hand for her to shake, instead she took ahold of my palm with one hand and placed her other on top. “Like wise dear. Your a hard worker I see.” She stated observing my hand. “Thank you?” I said unsure of how to respond.

Larissa stood to the side waiting for me to pay for my own book. “Oh this one’s good, perhaps you can read some to your girlfriend over there.” Francis said talking about the book and Larissa. My eyes were just about bulging out of my head at her words, I was rendered speechless. “Hush now Fran! I see your still cheeky as ever.” Larissa hissed. The elderly lady chortled at her with a shit eating grin. “Don’t you forget it. When you get old you tend not to hold your tongue.” She initially spoke to larissa than back to me. All I could do was stand there awkwardly, but praise her for not giving a fuck, I like her.

We exited the shop bidding the woman farewell and set off to back to our cars. “Sorry about that, I’ve known Francis since I was 14, she can be very brazen sometimes.” She said. “Don’t worry about it shes cute and hilarious… so you went to nevermore when you were at school?” I asked. “Yes, every weekend I’d go to the library part of the shop and sit for hours, than we’d exchange opinions on the books I’d read over a cup of tea.” She expressed clutching the book tighter to her chest. “That’s so sweet, I wish my childhood was that simple, I would have loved to have the freedom to Sit and read until I was to exhausted.” I said. “Well it wasn’t all that easy but I didn’t have to many friends to mingle with I suppose.” I felt a tinge of sadness at her confession, understanding what she means. “Nor did I, but I guess that’s why it’s so important to you now as headmistress right? To ensure all the kids are happy and safe?” I wondered. “Exactly.” She said pulling out her car keys while I simultaneously did the same. We both hit the unlock button to find we were parked right next to each other.

To our surprise we both had the same car, except hers was red. “Nice car.” I said. “Like wise.” She laughed. “Well I suppose this is goodbye.” Larissa said looking at me slightly saddened at the fact. “I suppose it is.” I retorted. Larissa stood peering into my eyes, her expression turned confused. “What?” I asked. “Your eyes…they’ve changed colour, I thought that yesterday, but now I’m sure.” She said hoping she didn’t sound to insane. “Yeah they do that, I don’t really know why, they go from blue, green, grey to blue grey to green blue, it’s weird but I find that when I’m tired my eyes are really blue and when I’m happy or focused they’re really green, almost like a mood ring.” I laughed. Larissa own eyes flickered between my own causing me to become short of breath. “It’s very interesting, very unique.” She said. “What are they now?” I whispered, Larissa seemed to be closer than I thought. “Green on the outside with a little bit of blue in the centre.” She matched my tone of voice. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath and tilted my head down before exhaling and returning the gaze.

“So when will I see you again? Apart from the obvious work reasons.” I asked. “Would Friday night be ok, I could take you out for dinner?… if your not interested then that’s ok we could-.” Yes yes yes yes yes. “No! I’d love to just text me with plans yeah?” I wished I didn’t seem to overzealous. “Really? Alright than I will see you Friday.” She said. “Of course I’ll see you than.” And only than I did something I wish I could take back, something so stupid, so unprofessional. I leaned in a little closer and kissed her cheek, not like it was hard or strained, not even a millisecond went by for me to not look at her after, I all but ran to my car and shoved the keys into the ignition and turned it on ripping the gear stick into reverse to get the hell out of there. I did spare her a glance and and idiotic wave before practically speeding away.

Larissa stood there on the footpath shocked, blushing like one of her students, she returned the wave and set to get in her own vehicle. Sitting in the drivers seat hands clamped to the steering wheel, she let out a chesty giggle and a smile reaching her eyes. It was Larissa’s turn to feel like a giddy little girl. On her way back go nevermore I was the only thing on Larissa’s mind, by the time she arrived through the gates it was just after 2 pm, she would spend the rest of the day in a haze hardly concentrating.

Later that night she dragged a chair in front of her fireplace with a blanket adorned over her lap with her new book in hand and a glass of wine placed on the floor next to her, a relaxing evening to go along with an eventful afternoon. I was much the same, unlike the previous night I had enough energy to make something for dinner while standing in the kitchen with my own book, reading passages from it whilst stirring the food on the stove.

the eyes

are portals to

different worlds

this is why

we shut them in

beautiful moments.

Let’s just say both of our dreams that night were of each other and the next morning consisted of thoughts for Fridays dinner.

———

Just wait for the dinner;)

@lex13cm @im-a-carnivorous-plant @barbarasstar @giogwensversion @sabraaabra

#larissa weems #gwendoline christie #principle weems #wednesday #larissa weems x y/n #larissa x reader #gwenchrist(ie)#wlw fanfic #larissa weems x reader

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torchwood-99 · 8 months

Text

Action Heroines Deserve Your Respect

I hate, hate, hate the fact that we've now moved into a space where action heroines are written off as "girlbosses" "nlogs" "yassified queens" "acting like men" and other bullshit like that. I hate that after centuries of women being oppressed through the enforcement of gender roles, female characters who cross gender boundaries are dismissed with a "ugh a woman doesn't have to fight/act like a man to be strong. women can be feminine and strong too".

I hate that people don't see why there will always be a strain of feminism in the action heroines because her existence; whether she be written well or not, and acceptance is a sign that we're moving past attitudes that have kept women confined and limited.

I hate that an action heroines has to be ten times better written than a male action hero because people; both men and women, are just waiting for the chance to rip her to shreds and dismiss as her as "lazy feminism" "girl boss pandering" and a "not like other girl girl".

I hate that there can be male characters who have little personality other than badass and people can just enjoy them for what they are and take them in the spirit in which they were created, whereas a female action character must never be allowed to be a badass bit of escaper lest she be the worst thing to ever happen to feminism.

I hate that there's less than one female action heroines to every ten make action heroes and their existence is still treated as a scourge in fiction. I hate that a poorly written male action hero is no more or less than a single character who wasn't written well, whereas a poorly written action heroine; whose threshold of being well written is much higher, is seen as an attack on the genre.

I hate that in genres where action and battle sequences are a staple and often provide massive emotional/plot climaxes, people refuse to see why female fans may want to see female heroines in those scenes.

I hate that people who aren't that into action heroines themselves can't just sit stand and shut up and think for a second why their existence means so much to fans of their characters, how long it was for fans to see characters like that become mainstream, and why for girls who see themselves in these heroines more than any other, it's bloody exhausting to hear them dismissed as "shallow" and "only liked because they act like men".

The moments when the music is the most dramatic, the moment everything has been building up to, when the chills are going down your spine, when every split second decision matters, when trust in friends is vindicated, when humanity is stripped down to its bare essentials and you see who these characters are when there's nothing left to lose. When nothing is pretty and soft but harsh and desperate and brutal and ugly. These moments matter so much, and are such a crucial part of the genres they exist in. They are so thrilling and cathartic and moving to watch, and of bloody course there are girls who want to see themselves in.

Not because these action heroines are acting "like men". Because these sequences tell us that the traits exhibited by the heroines in these sequences, the strength, physical and emotional, the resilience, the quick thinking, the camaraderie, the skill, are not exclusively the domain of men. These women aren't "trying to be men". They're trying to live. To defend. To advance a cause. To partake in the world around them on their own terms and have their lives in their hands.

Yes, yes, yes, there are lots of ways to be strong and proactive and admirable but fuck it, a good action sequence is moving and inspiring and fun and can make you feel like you've been on a roller coaster. And when I watch a sci-fi or a fantasy epic, I want to see women in those sequences. To be a part of that onscreen phenomena that is so pivotal to the genre.

When I watch an epic fantasy or sci-fi show, where there are beautiful and thoughtful and terrifying and emotional battle scenes, I want to see female characters partake in them. I want them to be the ones giving the speeches, being in that charge, wielding their swords, terrified, bloodthirsty, rage filled, righteous, merciful, valiant, exhausted, sweat, brutal, honourable, sly, messy. I want them to be in those moments for those moments in themselves.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Note

I promised, promised myself that I wouldn’t read the Roman König x Fee fic until it was completed because I knew i would get absolutely drawn in, wrapped up in your exquisite prose, then get addicted and suffer from withdrawals. Unneeded to say I broke said promise and welp here I am 🤡

Thing that surprised me was how quickly he endeared himself to me? A cock swinging village massacring brute that I was FULLY prepared to hate had me sighing by then end of chapter 3 with the “you care about my head?” ✋😩 YES I worry for your stupid head you adorable monster.

It’s uncanny how similarly Fee and I felt as the plot progressed. I know this is a self insert and though I made an OC for fee, you were able to capture the feeling of hate to curiousity to distrust to budding emotions on the readers side so beautifully and in only three chapters?? What sorcery is this?? I could go on and on about how I’m just… in awe of your writing skills.

It’s the small things too. The effort he went through to understand Fee, learning her language like he desperately wants to be a part of her. It’s just his delight in the simple things like having a woman and buying her pretty things. I AM GOING TO GNAW OFF MY ARM THIS IS SO GOOD!! I don’t know if you’ve watched HBOs Rome, but they remind me of Pullo and Eirene so much! Like you can’t tell me König doesn’t fit that goofy brawdy soldier who’s only hobbies are drinking and fucking and fighting to a T!

Then it got me thinking…. If König is Pullo then Simon is Vorenus. He has that straight laced, no bs aura about him. Now I’m imagining them both in this universe and please excuse me while I melt in a puddle 🫠

This is perhaps the best piece of fiction I’ve read in a while. I can’t wait for part 4, I have no doubt it will be wonderful as usual. Please accept my maladaptive daydream interpretation of Fee (first she was supposed to be a wood nymph, then the earth goddess then a fairy queen?? I’m not sure anymore. There was so much great imagery couldn’t settle on one. Your honor, we lost the plot.)

Oh my goodness OH MY GOODNESS ❤️❤️❤️

You shower me with praise and I’m over here like aaahh... for me? 🥺❤️

And yes I’ve watched Rome like four times at least! Every time I watch it just gets better, the producers and crew really outdid themselves with all the details in that series. I consider it one of the best TV shows ever made and excuse me but you opened a Pandora’s box here, I'm just so pleased you brought this up...

It took so much time for Pullo to grow on me, I was so frustrated with his character but when he killed Eirene’s man because he was so in love with her and was just like: “Oh there's something in the way of our love? Oh well. *there*, solved.” Gosh I was IN LOVE. I’m sorry, I’m a horrible person, but I fell in love with Pullo right that second. And yeah König is kinda like Pullo in that sense! Eirene wails at the corpse of her ex-lover and Pullo is just like “Um, yeah nasty business but… why are you crying? Oh, oh yeah, oops. But hey, we could be together? Oh, you don’t want me? Damn. How come?” I wanted to shake and kiss him for being so dumb and adorable.

And Ghost is Vorenus YES, you get it 100 %! And the tragic love story of Vorenus & Niobe, oh god, took me about a month to get over it. And Vorenus being under the protection of Mars first and then literally becoming Pluto, the Lord of the Underworld… The mythology nerd in me is swooning over here. The only thing about Vorenus that's slightly König coded to me was when Pullo had to explain to him what a clitoris is, and Vorenus is like “How do you know this about my wife?!?!” and almost kills him :D That’s so so Roman!König.

But AHHH let me squeal about your maladaptive daydream adaption next: she’s the most gorgeous Fee ever, so lovely and feminine and yet, strong and possessing that earthly power in her. I love the color of her dress too!! There’s a lot of earth & water elements linked to Fee so that color (green to turquoise?) is the most perfect combination of earth and sea, while König is more like fire & air, coming from the mountains and slow to anger but when the fire rises, no one is safe...

This was so lovely, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story 🩷💋

#answered

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kevainthemultiverse · 1 year

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Dog Walker - Kate Bishop

Warnings: Cuteness overload, very short, did it while very sleepy and didn't develop it to its fullest, english isn't my first language.

Summary: You are a dog walker with little interest in anyone with fewer than four feet. Your new client, the beautiful owner of a goofy, Golden Retriever, changes all of that when you begin to bond over your loveable new charge. (The prompt is from servicescape.com, I adapted it.)

Word count: 795.

There were several jobs Y/n could be doing, admittedly, but truthfully, she would be miserable and last less than a year in any job she had to deal with a human.

Spend most of her day walking cute puppies? It was delightful. Not only was the exercise of the day, she got paid for walking dogs and playing with them. Sometimes she had to pick up some poop, an obvious downside that always scrunched up her nose and let out the most disgusted sounds; various times the dogs had pissed on her legs, intentionally or not. However, by the end of the day, her bank account was substantial (with unexpected but very welcome tips); Y/n was happier and had exercised enough to be considered healthy. A win-win situation, she thought.

It's not like Y/n hated humans so severely she didn't talk to them, friends and family do exist. The difference is that she would rather be with the angels with no wings that don't make judgemental questions about why a twenty-four-year-old wants to work walking dogs.

She had gotten a job walking Lucky, a cute golden retriever that lacked one of his eyes, for an hour. The owner, Kate Bishop, said she would wait downstairs so Y/n didn't have to go up a flight of stairs just for the cuddly little fellow. And as the dog walker neared the building, her breath got stuck in her throat for a few seconds.

Surprise, surprise Kate Bishop is a cute raven-haired woman in her early twenties. Black hair in a tight ponytail, a grey plaid overcoat topped a purple sweater alongside black boots and jeans. Y/n hated how good she looked in purple, it was her favorite color and she would remember Kate for a few weeks after this.

"Hi, I'm here for this cute little guy." Y/n used every ounce of strength in her to move forward and talk to the pretty girl, pointing to the Golden that was now curiously looking at her.

Kate's eyebrows shot up at the sound of a feminine voice next to her and she turned her head to meet the other person, taking a while to process Y/n's gorgeous facial structure before clearing her throat and smiling. "You must be Y/n!"

"Yup, that's me." Y/n nodded, smiling right back and directing her eyes onto the other woman's, making her realize the deep blue color. "You must be Kate Bishop."

"The one and probably not the only one." She then raised Lucky's leash to Y/n. "I'm so relieved someone with that many recommendations got to walk with him; I feel sorry for living in an apartment and leaving him cooped up all day."

"I'm sure you do the best you can, and for what's worth, he seems close to you," Y/n said as she observed Lucky kept sitting right next to his owner. "He didn't jump on me yet."

It wasn't rare for some dogs to stay put, yet it was Y/n's first time seeing a Golden Retriever not immediately jumping on her.

"Just wait." Kate's voice sounded amused, almost like a promise that we would, anytime. "Sorry to cut our conversation short, I can't be late. But I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yes, of course. See you later." Y/n nodded before looking at Lucky. "Let's go, handsome."

△

Lucky was a cute dog and not very difficult to take care of. He didn't go pissing or pooping everywhere, obeyed orders, and even played a few games with Y/n in the park. By the time they returned, Kate was already outside with her eyes shining as she looked at the dog.

"Pizza dog! How was your walk with the pretty lady?"

Needless to say, Y/n's cheeks burned with the praise, even if it came out without her actually meaning that.

"We played so much in the park. Oh, by the way, he already did his needs there, so you'll be good for a while." The dog walker spoke, looking at Kate. "And this sneaky guy totally kissed me on the lips."

Kate gasped before looking at him. "Lucky, you traitor!"

"Completely my fault, I'm irresistible." It was supposed to be a joke, but with the way Kate looked up from him and smirked, there was no chance the burning on Y/n's face wasn't appearing.

"I can see the appeal." She mumbled, voice a little low and raspy before she turned into a complete mess while saying the following words. "Hm, I've been meaning to ask, can I... get your number?"

Y/n felt absolutely giddy.

"Yes, yes you can."

So it was not like Y/n hated humans, but four-legged little guys were better, after all, if it wasn't for Lucky, the Pizza Dog, she would have never met her favorite human.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop #mcu imagine #hailee steinfeld #kate x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x y/n #hawkeye #hawkeye kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #marvel x reader #kate bishop one shot #kate bishop fanfiction #marvel #mcu

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

Text

Mastermind

ᴾʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ: ˢʰᵉ/ʰᵉʳ ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ: Modern Au – Rhaenyra, eldest child of Viserys Targaryen who is leader of one of the strongest businesses finds herself enraptured by a pretty reporter | kind of slow-burn, simp behaviour | ᴸᵒᵒˢᵉˡʸ ᵇᵃˢᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳᵐⁱⁿᵈ ᵇʸ ᵀᵃʸˡᵒʳ ˢʷⁱᶠᵗ ⁱ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵐᵒᵈᵉʳⁿ ᵃᵘ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳʸ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ :₎

ᵐᵉʳʳʸ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᶜᵉˡᵉᵇʳᵃᵗᵉ!, ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵉˡᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ᴿʰᵃᵉⁿʸʳᵃ'ˢ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ, ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠᵉˢᵗⁱᵛᵉ ˢᶜᵉⁿᵉˢ ᵃˢ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʳᵉˡᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵗʷᵒ :⁾ ⁽ᵒⁿˡʸ ᴿʰᵃᵉⁿʸʳᵃ'ˢ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵉˡᵉᵇʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒᵘˢ ʷᵃʸ ˢᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵐᵇⁱᵍᵘᵒᵘˢ⁾

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 father but sometimes he made it really difficult. She huffed as her eyes flickered over to her younger step sibling and pulled a face. Aegon was only four years old and giggled happily, much to his mother's frustration who had only just settled him in the boring panel. Rhaenyra held back her snicker as she tried to pay attention again, at twenty-two she was better at paying attention to the endless sea of reporters repetitive questions but the chairs didn't get any more comfortable. She shuffled in her chair, irritating squeaks drawing attention. The reporters took no notice however and only grit their teeth as they ignored everyone except her father. "I'm sorry," a voice suddenly interrupted, a hand raising in the air as a feminine voice interrupted Frey News. Rhaenyra's brows raised in surprise as her eyes turned to the unfamiliar woman. "but I don't understand how that links to the question." She stated. Bold, Rhaenyra thought, turning to look at her father's flushed face. She could hear him chuckling awkwardly before remedying himself but as Frey began talking once more in his tiring drawl, Rhaenyra found herself finally with interest as she watched the other reporter. The one currently smirking in pride. Her eyes scanned over her equipment and smiled as sly as a fox. A name written in a bold font greeted her but it wasn't hers. Her brows furrowed as her eyes traced the letters over and over–imprinting it into her mind. The Braavos Notice.

The twitch in Rhaenyra's lips occurred as the reporter continued to fire questions at the family, as they reached her father and then her uncle she desperately felt the need to hear her own name. She leant forward in her seat and bit her lip as she saw that lone hand raise in the air once more. Air suffocated her as she prayed to every God she had ever heard of. "Ms. Rhaenyra Targaryen," It seemed they would answer her. "as current co-project manager with your uncle so young, does this affect your motivation in tasks?" Rhaenyra's face fell slack. This was much more personal than the other questions she had asked and though she was used to reporters asking irrelevant and personal information, she didn't hate it when the words slipped from her sweet lips. Instead she relaxed and leaned back in her chair. "Perhaps a little but I was raised in the firm and it sometimes feels more home than my own." She smiled, hoping to see the reporter's lips upturn for the first time. As though she had begged for it, she received her wish. "Thank you, Miss Targaryen." Rhaenyra bit hard on her lower lip so a moan wouldn't escape at the sound of a title on her tongue. She nodded and drowned out the noise for the rest of the event.

When the time came to leave she hesitated to look across the room but you were gone, far from her before anyone else had so much as stood. Rhaenyra jumped when Alicent's familiar hand brushed her shoulder. When she turned to find waiting brown eyes which contorted into hurt, she tried to appear at ease. "Vi-Your father wanted us to go out for dinner together." She uttered quietly. Aegon was being jogged on her hip as she tried her hand at a smile. "I," She cleared her throat. "I thought it might be nice." "Will Otto be there?" Rhaenyra asked, voice sharp and uncomfortable around the vowels." Alicent flinched. “No.” She answered instantly, eyes hopeful and pleading as her former friend searched them for any ill motive. Eventually the silence ended when Rhaenyra jutted out her chin in silent approval and Alicent released her breath and smiled. The blonde woman followed her family reluctantly and slipped into the hall, following every moving figure as she went.

It was another two weeks later that she spoke of you again at one of the office parties her stepmother had arranged. Rhaenyra was leaning against the wall nursing a glass of Romanee-Conti Grand Cru–Alicent had a taste for French wine lately. Laenor's familiar figure leaned beside her as she sighed. He snickered. "Still hate these things?" He asked, playfully. She glared back at him with a teasing smile. "You still boning Joffrey." He lay an offended palm against his chest and opened his mouth wide. "You wound me. Our love is beautiful thank you very much." "Beautiful enough to hide from your parents at least." She spoke. He shifted but she didn't hurt him. He shrugged. "We're star crossed lovers." She snorted before his hand came to punch her arm. "Alright, what's got you in a mood then?" She looked up at him beneath heavy eyelids. "Tell me!" "There was this reporter at my dad's thing last week, the panel with the shit chairs." He hummed in recognition. "So pretty." She said, taking another swig of her wine. He eased the glass out of her hand fluidly and took some himself. "You know those people suck right?" "But she was funny!" She whined, pouting up at him. "Made fun of Otto." He hesitated before his next words left him. "What's their name?" "Don't know." "You don't know?" He exclaimed in appal. She frantically hushed him and pushed her hand against his mouth, he pulled it away and quietened his voice until it was a whisper.

"You don't know?" He repeated, tipping over the urge of laughter. She huffed and rolled her eyes at him. "I barely even spoke to her, she left as soon as it ended." He scrunched his nose up at her. "You're sure she's real?" "Yes she's real." He tilted his head. "Probably won't like you then." He teased but before he could finish, Viserys was approaching with his excited grin and talking animatedly with Lyonel Strong. She quickly slapped at Laenor's arm and shushed him. "Can you believe that?" Viserys laughed boisterously. "So obviously I said no but could you imagine? Us down there while they point and chat mercilessly." Rhaenyra's brows furrowed at them. "Where?" She asked curiously. He glanced over at her and welcomed her into the conversation with a side hug. "The Braavos Notice are hosting some get together, your uncle Daemon was invited, no one to go with." As easily flicked as a light switch, her eyes shot up in bright light. "I'll go." She blurted. He frowned down at her. "You will, why?" "You're always saying I should work on my social appearance, maybe this could be a good opportunity." She held her breath as the tension in her stance deepened until she was nearly standing on her toes. Her father still eyed her suspiciously but agreed. And so the game began...

Her heart tugged as she swept into the room, her uncle at her side and no doubt searching for his girlfriend Mysaria. "Find her yet?" He asked. She snapped her gaze to his relaxed form and frowned. "Who?" "The reporter girl you like." She sighed at him. "Laenor," She mumbled in irritation and wringing her hands. "cannot keep a secret except his own to save his life." "If it's any consolation, he's not very good at his own either, now what does she look like?" "Angelic." Her uncle rolled his eyes. "Yeah cause I'm gonna know her from that description, dear niece." She grinned. "Then you'll stay curious." She finally slipped away from him and through the sea of people. As she passed the table of drinks, a large balcony interrupted her line of vision or more specifically the person standing on it and holding onto the railings. Wind rolled over her like a wave sent from Poseidon himself just for her. Her feet sneaked her through undetected. "The sky's beautiful." Okay maybe not so undetected. Rhaenyra's eyes pricked at the sound of her voice, it had been a long time since she last heard it. "It is." She finally agreed, hoping she sounded confident. The figure turned around with a glass bottle of unknown liquor and stretched it out toward her with a risen brow. The Targaryen of the two accepted it and gulped it, a funny fizzy feeling gracing along her lips. Her blue eyes stayed locked on the other woman. "Though I can think of things that are far more beautiful." The reporter snickered and turned back around to look at the sky again and houses below. "Cheesy." She murmured quietly. Rhaenyra's lips turned upward. "You don't think it's gouda?" "I think it's grating my brain." Rhaenyra shrugged and sidled beside her. "That's a shame I was just starting to like you." Rhaenyra teased. "Well, I was just starting to wonder what a Targaryen is doing here." She shrugged. "My uncle was invited." A hum had her burning for more. "I'm glad." She replied with a teasing smile before slipping away again into the sea of people. And that was when she knew, she was going to see you again. She would make sure of it.

#modern rhaenyra #modern rhaenyra targaryen #modern hotd #hotd fic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon modern #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #modern!rhaenyra targaryen x reader

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femoso-seben · 3 months

Note

Ok since you answered to my comment that you would do a 3rd part then can I ask for a third part of "Working With a Legend" but now it's Ghost and Price working with her and experiencing it for themselves why she is such a legend

You don't have to if you don't want too!

I hope you have a good day!

Sorry for the late reply luv I was a little stuck on the story and bogged my school. Laswell walks in and you get up walking over to the table, waiting for the next easy mission. You see everyone looks at the photo of a man, racially ambiguous, brown if you will.

“This is Lazarus—” Laswell points to the photo. You let out a long sigh and a string of curses. Everyone turns to you, intrigued by your behavior.

“You know something,” Ghost said looking down at you.

“Lazarus… don’t bother trying to kill him.” You wave your hand walking back to the couch and lying down.

“Why?” Price asks.

“Because Lazarus isn’t a person.”

“What does that mean?” You look up and focus on them before laughing and closing your eyes.

“Lazarus is a title, I’ve killed the last four of them, someone always new takes over.” You explain Lazarus is a criminal organization, one that you know very well. Under the thin layer of society, a crime world exists.

“Do you know where Lazarus is?” Laswell asks, you raise your head and slightly nod. “We aren’t going to kill Lazarus we need information from him.”

“You’ll lead the mission,” Price said to you and you nodded getting up and stretching out. “Ghost and I will accompany you.

Great… the two officer ranks….

You all board a military heli you would rather do a commercial with everyone else, and blend in with the crowd but you can’t complain about a nice military heli that can get you far.

“What’s our first move?” Ghost asks, looking at you.

“We’ll find their little paws.”

“What?” Price said leaning in.

“Lazarus is a crime thing, you need to find their little paws and tails before finding the rat… you two should change to fit the tourist part.” You explain and look out at the city below you.

Dubai is a beautiful place, a place with no natural culture and slavery. You walk out and begin looking for the shady-looking person, the little rats that run this city. Your eyes caught on a little boy, who looked homeless.

You walk up to them speaking Arabic, the child looks at you wearily before you pull out a small metallic card with the Lazarus symbol. The child nods and gestures for you to follow, and you do so.

Price and Ghost follow after you and soon you are at a nightclub where tourists are dancing and influencers posting photos, in all a perfect place to traffic people. There sitting at a table was Lazarus.

“Here you go, I’m gonna get some alcohol,” he tells Price before walking off. Something felt wrong and you were pretty sure they could feel it too. You get your drink, vodka in strawberry juice. You look around and see Lazarus’s bodyguards.

You slowly make your way towards these men and take them out, dragging them to the back and striking them in pressure points. you reach into your back cuffing their hands and legs together. Soon it was just Lazarus.

You make your way back to the table to find the three men in a heated discussion. You sat down at the table and smiled at the new Lazarus. He looked at you rather annoyed by your presence.

You reach into your bag and put four bullets onto the table a small veil threat. It took this new Lazarus a minute to realize what this meant. “L likes to send their regards.” You said in a feminine tone like you're a hired woman to do so.

This man instantly begins to sweat and try to get up but it wasn’t easy with both Ghost and Price sitting on either side of him. He looked around and found out all his guards were gone, you took care of that.

The three of you took him away to a more private place. Away from prying eyes. They interrogated, and you sat back and watched as the man squirmed and shouted slipping into Arabic every other sentence. You sit back and open your work phone, the US government didn’t say you're exclusive to them, you gaze down at your phone and see a new buyer.

It was rather fortunate that you were in the right place for this mission, the death of a Saudi Prince, a familial struggle, if you may have. You get up and slink off going to your weapon stash, changing outfit you hail a cab for the exclusive party. You have a strong suspicion this job was also in play to eliminate you in the process. You look down at the little bottle of poison and hide it in the heels of your shoes. You put on enough makeup to look like you belong at the party.

You moved in stayed long enough to look like you belong, and found the cup the prince is drinking from. You gaze around to see if anyone is watching him. Several people are watching him, besides his guard a mysterious person, that one was meant for you. You walk up to him striking up a conversation flirtling a little bit acting like a foreigner. Enough for them to let their guard down. You quietly maneuver them into a corner knock them out, and set them on the ground as if they are drunkenly sleeping.

You added a small bit of poison into the prince’s cup, he’s a man, he wouldn’t be thinking about being drugged nor about protecting his cup. You used the crowd to hide yourself the way the crowd flowed back and forth tricking the camera. You even gave a drink to another person, and yourself before leaving. At most, you were there for an hour.

“Where were you?” You look up to see Both Price and Ghost looking at you like you are a deadly viper, you give them a coy smile and wave your hand dismissing them.

“Did you get what you need?” You ask them. They shook their head.

“Then let me.” You walk past them there Lazarus is covered in blood, they are playing dirty and violent. You quietly spoke to Lazarus, bringing up your history and who you were. The veiled threat of the four bullets in between your fingers.

He spilled.

BANG!

You kill him leave four printless bullets in his lap and walk to the two.

“Let’s head out.”

#call of duty #cod x reader #141 #cod #simon ghost riley #captain price #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2

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femaletwstsupremacy · 9 months

Note

i have just a little request if you dont mind, we have fem idia enjoyer of woman and yuri manga (the cutesy slice of life ones like failed princess, monolouge woven for you, whisper me a love song ((just somethin sweet ya know)) and idia is hopelessly pining for the main girl type, ortho being the best little sister invites us over and idk just a little idea 4 u

"𝙈𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝘼𝙪𝙧𝙖!"

✦ Content – Idia being a simp, Ortho being a sweetheart, kinda did a reverse isekai plot here, Idia is Shen Yuan (From Scum Villain) coded, reader came from a world where technology isn't all that advanced, Reader has a personality, reader is gn but reader being feminine was in mind while writing.

Author's Note: Waaa, I had so much fun playing with this idea anon. Thank you for sending this in! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ It's not exactly like the request so I apologize for that. But! I absolutely support Fem!Idia yuri enjoyer, I am one as well after all (With a side of bl fan in there but shhhh)

Idia was many things, a loner, a genius with wasted talent, a weirdo, a curse. But she could care less about those, what do they know about her anyway? It's not like half of those people who talked behind her back actually talked to her. But if there was one thing she could proudly call herself, it would be that she's an avid yuri fan. Slice of life? Fantasy? Mystery? Yandere? She'll read it as long as it's yuri! (And if it has at least a decent plot, otherwise she'd either simply throw it out or start hating in the reviews if she absolutely despised it.)

The lighthearted and giddy feeling she gets in her chest every time she reads is something she just can't get enough of. But once she finishes the absolute masterpieces of the genre, she only has the leftover scraps left to read. Some of them aren't that bad, she could bear reading through with it and some of them even got her hooked. But some others were absolute trash. With nothing but fetishization and not even a pinch of genuine affection between the main couple.

By that time Idia almost debated leaving the genre altogether but decided to just wait. Wait for something good to actually come by, wait for an astounding masterpiece that could even make her slack jawed, wait for some of her few favorites to update, and so she did.

She waited, and waited, and waited. Until finally, a new manga had just released, taking the whole genre by storm. And as a connoisseur of yuri manga, how could she pass up this opportunity? Especially when she'd been waiting for so long. Besides, most of the reviews are fairly positive and by first impression it doesn't seem like some trashy manga that uses all the clichés and most popular tropes of the book. Unlike some that Idia had read. So she trusts that it will be a worthwhile read.

And worthwhile it was, Idia was absolutely hooked. It wouldn't be an understatement to say that this was a masterpiece. The plot? The setting? The tropes? and most importantly, the characters. (Did she mention the characters yet?) were all meticulously woven together into the perfect web to catch any unsuspecting readers into it's trap. Idia is no exception. But seriously, it's amazing. Even if it just released, it was already manga of the year in her heart. In fact, it should be the manga of the year in everyone's heart!

But you especially have taken her heart, kicking off any and all candidates that could have taken your place. Sitting beautifully in the throne of her heart. You were the main girl of the story, kind, pretty, and clever but didn't take anyone's shit for nothing. Your character was the exact one that Idia favors the most, so it was inevitable that you became her first and only favorite above the rest. Idia gathered anything she could get about you, analyzing your character under a microscope. Memorizing every small detail, no matter how insignificant. This also applies to your character arcs and relationships, causing her to make lengthy essays about it in the comments without fail.

Other times, when the author decides to shove tragedy onto you that she believes is far too much Idia would instantly go into a bout of outrage, her hair turning into a raging sea of red. The scale of her rage is clear to see if one were to read the scathing comment she had left. Don't they know that it's far to early? Your character isn't developed enough for this! She'd argue.

But usually, she would have calmed down in the following chapters. It's almost as if the author read her comments and decided to give you reprieve and a few wholesome moments in between as a peace offering. But that's most likely her imagination coming up with wild ideas on miniscule chances.

Months pass by, and before she knew it, it was already the final chapter of the manga. The manga she had spent hours mulling over, the manga that she collected a whole stock of merch for, the manga where she felt more than she usually does in real life, the manga you were in.

Idia stares at her screen, unblinking. The bold text of the final lines of the chapter staring back at her, the light of the screen almost painful as it illuminates the darkness of her room. Casting shadows along her face, making her look even more gloomy than she is. She doesn't know what is it exactly that she feels, it's like her heart feels full but at the same time has holes that leak out, causing a void of emptiness along with the full feeling.

It's strange, is this what it feels like when you get too attached to a piece of fiction? Idia wouldn't really know, she didn't get attached to much things in the first place anyway. But, she doesn't know what to think about it. It doesn't feel all that good, but it isn't all that bad either. Idia groans, burying her head into her hands.

Ugh, why does emotions have to be so damn difficult?

Idia can't believe this is happening. But the fact that you, in all your glory and grace, are right here, in her room, and gazing back at her is undeniable. Idia seriously questions if this was truly reality and she wasn't being delusional after so long of not having sleep and not eating properly. Which would have been the most logical explanation if you didn't look so real and lifelike. Especially when you stand there as depicted, eyes shining the same way it was drawn, actually breathing and are not just lines on paper.

When you quietly call out to her in confusion, Idia swears she'll see Hades in the next second because your voice is exactly as she imagined it-

"Uh hello? May I please know where I am?" You ask, slightly waving your hand in front of the strange girl's face – her hair being one of unusual blue flames that you've never seen before. The strange girl only jumps in response, letting out a surprised squeak. Scrambling to hide behind...a chair..? At least you think it's a chair.

The timid type huh, you can work with that. You put your hand back on your side, deciding to take a different approach so as to not frighten the poor girl more. Tentative, you leaned down to her level, purposely making your voice sound more soft and coaxing than usual, "Sorry about that, I'm kinda lost and it would really help me out if you could answer my questions, yeah?" The girls stares at you dumbly for a while, but your expression doesn't falter and eventually, she nods.

Another world? Manga character? currently in reality???? The revelation that the life you've lived was all a fabrication made from someone else's desires is a very hard pill to swallow. A bitter laugh escapes you as the strange girl – who had introduced herself as Idia – finishes her explanation. "So, you're saying that for my whole life, I've been living in some sick fairytale for the lot of you in 'reality' to watch?" You don't hide the bite in your tone, your frustration leaking out as if your body was filled with holes.

Idia squeaks, nervously clutching her hair – one that has swaying flames of azure – like an anchor that will keep her from sinking into the sea of your emotions. You sigh out, it's no use getting angry at someone who didn't have a hand in your creation. It's not like she had instigated anything that happened to you, she was just a viewer after all.

"Sorry, I got carried away. I didn't mean to get so aggressive." You say apologetically, your frustration still hasn't gone away, you don't believe it would go away so quickly but right now being level headed was the better option.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You lean your forehead onto your hand, regulating your breathing. For now, it would be a good time to gather more information...

You straighten up, clearing your throat in attempt to get Idia – who still hasn't raised her head in what you believe is fear – to look at you. It works, as she raises her gaze to look up at you. "Say, could you tell me more about this 'reality' of yours?"

Recovering from the shock of being a manga character was a long process. Thankfully, it seems your host was an accommodating one. Helping you adjust as best as she can. Though this world...has plenty of strange contraptions. You were scared out of your wits when Idia pressed a button and the square on her table started lighting up. The fact that everything in Idia's room is considered 'high-tech' doesn't help, But right after you've finally gotten over your shock the next thing you know there was a literal child that looked like the contraptions that appeared out of nowhere! Though, after your almost obliteration of Idia's room the child(?) was surprisingly friendly and humanlike despite your hostility in your first encounter. You've come to know the child as Ortho. You start to wonder if this world has a trend to name their children strange things...Other than that, she was an exact opposite of her sister, sweet, sociable, and cheerful. However, their differences don't seem to separate them in the least. In fact, they get along than most siblings you see. It got you feeling all warm and sentimental for a bit. But even then, they both at least one thing in common, and that's how cute they are. Now, it's a given that Ortho is cute. (Why wouldn't she be? Idia built her to look cute!) Though, Idia can also be – by equal measures – cute!

Cute enough to make you squeal and want to squish her cheeks. Oh, and the way her hair turns pink every time you get close...It's absolutely adorable! You never thought someone's hair could be so expressive! At one point your curiosity got the better of you. By impulse, you lightly stroked the azure flames. It didn't burn like what one would assume, rather it was similar to the feeling of warming your hands over a fire on a cold wintry night. Of course, when you do this Idia audibly squeaks and swivels from her seat to look at you. Embarrassment, it was common expression Idia made while with you. You guessed it was because you are her favorite character, the amount of pictures she has saved is already enough proof. You apologize to her but you're sure the teasing tilt to your tone doesn't make you convincing. Right, the longer you've stayed here, the less you cared about being convincing. This place is much more peaceful despite being worse according to Idia. As Idia starts to sputter at you, hair the pinkest you've ever seen it, you start to think that this type of life isn't so bad.

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cloudymistedskies · 9 months

Text

Muichiro breaks into Mari’s estate then steals her

(Art + short, somewhat shitpost fic)

This is also based from this small post I made

It was just a fine afternoon... The Kaizumi sisters were eating lunch together, talking about their missions and other stuff. Mari squeals in excitement in every bite she takes, since it's her sister's cooking. She always loves her dear sister's cooking the most. Riko couldn't help but let out a small chuckle when she squealed for the 5th time.

"Ah, so that demon nearly destroyed your sword?" Riko asked with an amused tone, letting out a few giggles. Mari chuckled as she takes another bite of the food.

"Yeah! I thought I was gonna be toast, too...!!" Mari whined, while chewing her lunch. Riko slightly narrows her eyes in disapproval.

"Mari... Please don't eat with your mouth full. It's disrespectful." Riko lightly scolds the brown-haired girl, before giggling again. She can't really get mad at her for that... Mari only showed a dorky smile before she continued munching on her lunch.

"You can't blame me for this! Your food is too good!" Mari childishly pouts before giggling again. Riko sighed, shaking her head and smiling as she looks at Mari who ate her food in content.

"You're lucky that I love you too much to--"

Riko's words were cut off when the two girls heard somebody breaking the door down loudly. Out of her older sister instincts, immediately went up to Mari and shielded her from whatever or whoever broke the door down.

"MARI?! A-Are you okay?!" Riko turns to Mari in a worried manner, sighing in relief when she sees that Mari wasn't hurt. Mari nodded as she peeks her head out to the scene.

"What or who was that...?" Mari muttered to herself, merely curious. As Riko continued shielding her younger sister, the dust slowly cleared the scene, now the culprit becoming more visible...

Long black hair with mint-tips, oversized uniform, lifeless mint-green eyes...

"MUICHIRO?!/TOKITO-SAMA?!" The two sisters exclaimed, surprised that the mist hashira is at their estate...Not to mention that he broke the sliding door down...

Muichiro stares at the Kaizumi sisters, his eyes softening as he focuses on the younger sister, Mari... The only person he could remember properly out of all people. Riko continued then shielded Mari further. She knows Muichiro is a hashira and all, but she can't help but feel the need to keep shielding her, especially that she doesn't know what the young boy's intentions are.

"Tokito-sama... Is there anything you need here?" Muichiro snaps out of his daze when he heard an older feminine voice, coming out from Riko, his eyes slightly narrowed when he notices Riko shielded Mari further.

"Ah... Right..." That was all Muichiro said, before walking up to the Kaizumi sisters. In the blink of an eye, Mari was quickly held onto Muichiro's shoulder, earning a squeak from the green-eyed girl, then he started to walk away from the older sister. Riko's eyes widened, dumbfounded on what she's currently seeing, but she quickly snapped out of her stunned state before running up and holding onto Mari's hands.

"W-What the fu-- Ahem... What are you doing with my sister?!" Riko demanded as her eyes narrowed at the mint-green eyed boy. Muichiro turns his head to the blonde-haired girl, obviously annoyed with her.

"I'm taking your sister with me. She'll be my tsuguko starting today." Muichiro answered bluntly, as he stared at Riko who was currently struggling to get Mari out of his grasp. Mari was just stammering around, very confused and unsure what to do.

"W-Wait...! What's a tsuguko--"

"You can't just straight up kidnap someone and just take her in as your tsuguko! Now let her go!" Riko argued, cutting off Mari's sentence as she keeps trying to pull Mari off the mist hashira's grasp. Muichiro eye slightly twitches, pretty frustrated at how disrespectful with woman is. Muichiro turned his body around to face Riko, glaring at her and easily slapping her hands off of Mari. Mari looks at Riko then Muichiro in shock. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't find any proper words and continued to blabber and stammer in confusion.

"I can and I will. I already made up my mind, so stop being a bother and leave my sight immediately." Muichiro ordered, tightening his hold on Mari who was on his shoulder, and earning another squeak from Mari.

"G-Guys...! I still don't know what a tsuguko is--"

"Mari didn't even ask to be your tsuguko! You literally just took her! And I am not leaving your sight without my sister!" Riko retorted and once again cuts Mari's sentence off... Mari stares at her older sister with a look of "let me finish my sentence, please.". Muichiro rolls his eyes before casually turning away from the blue-eyed girl and walked off with Mari. Obviously, Riko didn't react well to this and immediately chased after him, catching up and blocking his way, giving dagger eyes to the young mist hashira.

"I said... I'm not leaving your sight without my sister." Riko repeated herself in a bitter manner as she narrows her eyes at the boy. Muichiro also narrowed his eyes... And Mari was just flailing her arms around, stammering and still confused as ever.

"You dare disrespect a hashira's order?" Muichiro said in a cold tone. How dare this mere lower rank demon slayer disrespect a hashira like him? Riko didn't budge no matter what.

"I will NOT let you use your position as a sorry-excuse to abduct my baby sister!" Riko remarked, gritting her teeth and prepared to throw hands at him. It didn't matter to Riko that he was a hashira or not, he's taking her sister away from her and she doesn't like that. Muichiro sighed in annoyance.

"I don't have time for silly non-sense like this. Now get out of my way, you nincompoop." Muichiro snapped, before walking up to Riko. Before the two Kaizumi sisters even reacted, Muichiro swiftly knocked Riko out by the neck. Riko hits the floor, now unconscious. Mari's eyes widened, completely shocked and even terrified on what Muichiro did to her sister.

"N-NEE-CHAN?! M-MUICHIRO! DID YOU KILL MY SISTER?!" Mari exclaimed, now more worried about her sister whose just on the ground. Muichiro ignored Mari's question as he continued to walk off with Mari on his shoulders, seemingly slightly satisfied now that the situation is taken care of... Whoever that was, he was annoyed at her and her little antics, especially that she disrespected a hashira like him. As Muichiro continued walking away, Mari kept asking Muichiro on why he killed her sister and such... Eventually, he answered since he was slightly bothered with how loud Mari is.

"Your sister is not dead. I just knocked her out unconscious. She'll be alright." The mint-green eyed boy reassured her. Mari seems to calm down a little after Muichiro's words but she's still worried...

Just for safety measures: Mari took accepted Muichiro's invitation to be his tsuguko! But she's still concerned that he knocked Riko out... and by obvious means, explained what a tsuguko is

By the way, Riko was panicking the rest of the day...-

#cloudy writes #kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny oc #demon slayer oc #kimetsu no yaiba oc #kny muichiro #muichiro tokito #oc x canon #oc x canon fic #kny fic #shitpost thing #fic #demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic oc

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