#i may or may not have been high while doing this
Text
Hidden | Max Verstappen
WC: 1.5K
Max x wife!reader
Summery: May has always a private person, but is he that private that he could hide his wife of 8 years and 2 year-old son.
Warnings: none
AN: This is a little something, while I’m working on two big fics
Masterlist
Max Verstappen is many things, and when people ask you to describe him they always have a lot to say. He’s a great driver, at the top of his career, he’s aggressive, he’s sarcastic, definitely has an unhealthy relationship with his skinny jeans. He’s also incredibly private, not much is known about him that he doesn’t want to be known, how he does it is a mystery.
You both value your privacy, and any post made of you before he made it to F1 was deleted the second there was a possibility he would join. You were both young, and you knew how much hate some wags get and you didn’t want that. While Max was off racing, you were back home finishing your studies, the moment you finished high school and you were both 18 you got married. A small wedding with only family and very close friends in attendance. Some of your families were against it at first, saying you’re too young, too naive but you never listened to them. Both you and Max knew what you wanted, and there was not stopping you from getting what you wanted.
You finished Uni and when Max moved to Monaco you did too, you met some of the drivers, the ones close to Max, you met some of the team that were also close to him. And you even attended a few races, but no one paid you any attention, thinking you’re just a fan.
However the last time you made it to a race was well over a year and a half ago, you gave birth to your baby boy last winter, and after a hard delivery and a long recovery, where Max stuck by your side through it all. Your boy is almost 2 and he misses Max every time he’s away from home.
”Are you sure this is the right time?” Max asked you as you got yourself ready, Karel happily playing with his toys next to Max on the bed.
“I mean we’ve been married for 8 years now, and dating for three before that.” You point out and finish the last touches to your make-up. “We have a son and I want him to grow up seeing you do what you love to do, I don’t know when you actually want to retire, so let him see you do it before it’s too late.”
You walk over to your husband and sit in front of him with a smile.
”You’re right.” Max leans over and presses a kiss to your lips, that leaves you craving for more, Max pulls back leaving you chasing after his lips. The dutch driver laughs and lets you close the gap, your lips meeting for a bit longer, before you have to pull back or things would escalate.
“Don't forget your ring.”
“Already wearing it.”
Walking in the paddock with your son on your hip and your hand in Max’s turned a few heads for sure. It was the tack of the paddock, Max has a girlfriend and a son? There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that the boy you’re holding is anyones’s but Max, he’s a literal mini Max, with the small red bull merch and everything.
”Oh my god! Loca.” Lando said seeing you both, your son wiggles in your arms. He loves Lando who he sees a lot when you’re all in Monaco. Lando is one of the few people who knew about you for so long and he’s seen Karel mere days after he was born. “Come to uncle, Lala.” Karel leans out of your arms and easily goes to Lando’s. “I didn’t know you guys were bringing him today.”
“We weren’t 100% sure.” Max explains and you give him a look. “Okay, I wasn't 100% sure I’d want to bring him.”
”Well, I’m for one glad that you did.” Lando said entertaining your son.
”That makes the two of us.” You say smiling, as Max pulls you closer to his side.
After Max is sure you and Karel are comfortable at RedBull, he goes off to do his round of interviews and media duties. And it's just his luck that, he's on the panel today.
And it didn't take long before he was being questioned about his family.
“Question to Max, you seem happier today, does that possibly have something to do with your ring and those that came with you today?” Max chuckles, he looks at his wedding ring. On the panel today with him, Charles who knows about his family, Lewis who has no idea, Oscar who has no idea and Pierre who has a suspicion but hasn't been confirmed by Charles.
“Eh, if you're talking about this ring, yes. My son is here for the first time, he's finally old enough to come.” Max is smiling but just because his family came means he's suddenly open with the press and will spill everything.
“You have a son?” Lewis asked confused the gossip hadn't reached Mercedes yet.
“I'm not over the ring, you're married?” Pierre asked, Oscar was looking super confused at the RedBull driver, he heard Lando talking about Max and a child and wife but he thought it was the other Max not this Max.
“Karel's here?” Charles asked, smiling.
“Yeah, I have a son, he's almost 2 and I'm married.” Max said as if he didn't Just drop the biggest news in F1 at the moment.
“You knew about it?” Pierre asked his friend feeling left out, Charles looked cheapish and shrugged.
“It was a secret mate.”
After the panel the drivers waited for Max to ask him some more questions.
“When were you married?”
“Did you get married because of the kid?”
“What's his name?”
“Why did you hide them?”
”When can we see him?”
and so on and so forth, Max knew that this would cause quite a stir in the media but he had no idea the other drivers would be interested.
”Okay calm down everyone, let the man speak.” Lando, the latest person to join the circle said. He wrapped his arm around Max’s shoulder. ”Let me answer the oblivious stuff. His name’s Karel, he was born during the winter break of last year, he’s a carbon copy of Max, and yeah, I knew about everything for a few years.”
Lando looked so smug with himself for being in the know.
”And you’re married? Never saw you wearing a ring before.”
“Yeah, got married when we were 18-“
”EIGHTEEN!!” There was a gasps and repetition to the number 18.
”Mate, that’s over 8 years ago.” Pierre said with wide eyes, he’s been Max’s teammate and he was married and he had no idea.
”Yeah, we were dating for 3 years before that, and decided to just do it.” Max explains, he was itching to get back to the garage and see his family. But he had to stand there for a few more minutes to answer all their questions, which he was comfortable with anyways.
You could see a few of the drivers shaking their heads as they dispersed from the circle in disbelief. The gossip and new information was hot, it will be all they can talk about this weekend.
You were out of his driver’s room, and standing beside Max’s car talking with a mechanic as Karel was looking at his dad’s car in fascination. It’s the car he saw every week on the TV.
“Hey.” Max greeted coming in and giving you a quick kiss, he took Karel from your arms and kisses his cheek. “How’s everything?”
”Good, Karel wants to get in the car.” You inform your husband, smiling as your son nodded his head furiously.
”Dada, car.” Karel says cutely and points at his father’s car.
”You can sit baby, don’t think you’ll see anything but you can sit.” Max says and places his child into the cockpit, RedBull cameras snap pictures and take videos.
”Future RedBull champion in the making.” You tease Max and grin, Max had this adoration look on his face. “You should get in and put him on your legs so he can see.”
Max does as you say, he hands you Karel, who you shower with kisses making him giggle and push your face away. Max gets in and you hand him Karel who he places on his lap, the child now able to see out of the car.
”Here Max.” One of the mechanics hand him the steering wheel, and Max puts it in.
”Dada, drive.” Karel says and takes a hold of the steering wheel, Max helps him turn it right and left, it’s. too heavy for him to do it alone. You take out your phone and also film this moment.
If there was ever doubt about bringing Karel, just seeing them making memories and enjoying themselves proves that it’s the right thing to do. There’s no guarantee for how long Max will stay in F1, the motorsport is forever changing and you’ve always wanted Max to make these memories with your son. And if Karel continued showing interest in cars as he does now, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ll be back at karting tracks soon enough, and replete the cycle that you went through with Max with your son.
Max looks at you and smiles, you couldn’t help but lean over and press your lips to his, in a sweet and short kiss.
”It’s good that I can kiss you whenever now.” You comment and wink at Max before you pull back.
“Lucky me.”
Maintaglist
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life
#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 scenario#f1 x reader#max one shot#max imagine#max verstappen x reader#mv1 fic#mv1 imagine#mv33#mv1#mv#mv1 x reader#mv33 x reader#f1 fic#max x wife!reader#f1 wife!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Double dose of articles about how crime is actually plummeting
From the UK:
"Seventy-eight per cent of people in England and Wales think that crime has gone up in the last few years, according to the latest survey. But the data on actual crime shows the exact opposite.
As of 2024, violence, burglary and car crime have been declining for 30 years and by close to 90%, according to the Crime Survey for England and Wales (CSEW) – our best indicator of true crime levels. Unlike police data, the CSEW is not subject to variations in reporting and recording.
The drop in violence includes domestic violence and other violence against women. Anti-social behaviour has similarly declined. While increased fraud and computer misuse now make up half of crime, this mainly reflects how far the rates of other crimes have fallen.
All high-income countries have experienced similar trends, and there is scientific consensus that the decline in crime is a real phenomenon.
The perception gap
So why is there such a gulf between public perception and the reality of crime trends? A regular YouGov poll asks respondents for their top three concerns from a broad set of issues. Concern about crime went from a low in 2016 (when people were more concerned with Brexit), quadrupled by 2019 and plummeted during the pandemic when people had other worries. But in the last year, the public’s concern about crime has risen again.
There are many possible explanations for this, of which the first is poor information. A study published in 1998 found that “people who watch a lot of television or who read a lot of newspapers will be exposed to a steady diet of crime stories” that does not reflect official statistics.
The old news media adage “if it bleeds, it leads” reflects how violent news stories, including crime increases and serious crimes, capture public attention. Knife crime grabs headlines in the UK, but our shock at individual incidents is testament to their rarity and our relative success in controlling violence – many gun crimes do not make the news in the US.
Most recent terrorist attacks in the UK have featured knives (plus a thwarted Liverpool bomber), but there is little discussion of how this indicates that measures to restrict guns and bomb-making resources are effective."
-via The Conversation, May 13, 2024
And the United States:
"[The United States experienced a spike in crime rates in 2020, during the pandemic.] But in 2023, crime in America looked very different.
"At some point in 2022 — at the end of 2022 or through 2023 — there was just a tipping point where violence started to fall and it just continued to fall," said Jeff Asher, a crime analyst and co-founder of AH Datalytics.
In cities big and small, from both coasts, violence has dropped.
"The national picture shows that murder is falling. We have data from over 200 cities showing a 12.2% decline ... in 2023 relative to 2022," Asher said, citing his own analysis of public data. He found instances of rape, robbery and aggravated assault were all down too.
Yet when you ask people about crime in the country, the perception is it's getting a lot worse.
A Gallup poll released in November found 77% of Americans believed there was more crime in the country than the year before. And 63% felt there was either a "very" or "extremely" serious crime problem — the highest in the poll's history going back to 2000.
So what's going on?
What the cities are seeing
What you see depends a lot on what you're looking at, according to Asher.
"There's never been a news story that said, 'There were no robberies yesterday, nobody really shoplifted at Walgreens,'" he said.
"Especially with murder, there's no doubt that it is falling at [a] really fast pace right now. And the only way that I find to discuss it with people is to talk about what the data says." ...
For cities like San Francisco, Baltimore and Minneapolis, there may be different factors at play [in crime declining]. And in some instances, it comes as the number of police officers declines too.
Baltimore police are chronically short of their recruitment goal, and as of last September had more than 750 vacant positions, according to a state audit report...
In Minneapolis, police staffing has plummeted. According to the Star Tribune, there are about 560 active officers — down from nearly 900 in 2019. Mannix said the 2020 police killing of George Floyd resulted in an unprecedented exodus from the department...
In Minneapolis, the city is putting more financial resources into nontraditional policing initiatives. The Department of Neighborhood Safety, which addresses violence through a public health lens, received $22 million in the 2024 budget."
-via NPR, February 12, 2024
#crime#violate crime#united kingdom#england#wales#united states#us politics#baltimore#san francisco#police#defund the police#good news#hope
607 notes
·
View notes
Text
Étoile
summary | Aemond Targaryen has found himself a new star.
pairing | ballet master!aemond targaryen x ballerina!reader
tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, oral (m), semi-public, slight dubcon, mirror sex, power imbalance, coercion, aemond’s kinda manipulative, slight age difference (reader is in her early 20s, Aemond is in his mid-30s)
wordcount | 4.6k
note | ah finally, some use for a decade and a half worth of ballet training 🙂↕️ i may or may not have written this after watching challengers, so aemond is very mildly inspired by tashi.
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!
(divider by @aqualogia)
The air in the studio was humid with sweat as dancers glided through the floor accompanied by the soft tunes of the piano. Your limbs ached with exertion, your toes cramped in your pointe shoes, yet you continued, turning and leaping with the others as you performed the routine. Your ballet master kept a close eye on everyone, throwing out corrections to every dancer while he stood tall. Everyone was putting in the extra effort, dancing as though they were performing in front of the largest audience. There was a clear tension in the air, brought about by the Paris Opera Ballet’s newest ballet master, Aemond Targaryen.
He was tough, highly critical, and was known to send dancers out the door in tears, but he was one of the best. It was known among your peers he was looking to cast dancers for his repertoire, hence the reason why everyone was on edge during his class.
You couldn’t help the way goosebumps rose on your skin wheneve his eye fell on you, silently willing yourself not to mess up in front of the silver-haired man. You paid extra attention to the finer details of your movements, your mind running an extra mile to keep yourself in check.
Shoulders down. Shift that weight forward. Deep plié. Eyes on your spot, and turn.
Aemond gave you an approving nod as you successfully landed your quadruple pirouette, two extra than what you normally do. You kept your face neutral and composed, despite the glee bursting through your chest. A nod was a high praise in the ballet world, even more so from the stoic Targaryen, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for not falling on your face. Perhaps he would consider you for a role, one where you wouldn’t be lost in the mass of tutus and other dancers in the background. You were a coryphée, second to last in the company's hierarchy, and you had been desperate to rise through the ranks and prove yourself to your superiors. With the arrival of the young ballet master, whose good eye kept shifting towards you as you continued to dance, you had a good feeling your golden opportunity would soon fall into your lap.
Two claps echoed through the studio, cutting through the soft music of the piano. You halted your movements, turning to your ballet master who had paused your rehearsal.
“Not quite, try that again,” he ordered. You and your dance partner, Tomás, returned to your previous position, moving through the choreography to Aemond’s direction as the piano started once more. You were both slick with sweat, breaths equally panting as you continued your rehearsal for Le Parc.
It was a classic piece of the Paris Opera Ballet, a crowd favorite, and you had been bestowed the honor of performing the piece after being cast by the Targaryen himself. It was safe to say the rehearsal wasn’t going well, after only having danced the first two minutes of the nine minute piece in the three hours you had been in the rehearsal studio. Both you and Tomás were under immense pressure, one that only grew with every dissatisfied look and a shake of the head from your ballet master. The danseur beside you was rumored to be up for a nomination to be the company’s next étoile– the star, top of the ballet food chain. One cannot simply climb the ranks through time and effort to be an étoile, they had to be chosen by one of the ballet masters, and what better chance would one have than getting chosen by the Aemond Targaryen himself? Hence the agitation Tomás emanated, its sticky heat rubbing off on you.
“Ah, come on,” your dance partner grunted, sighing when you had failed to grab his arms to be lifted from the air. The pianist stopped playing with another raise of a hand from Aemond, who stayed seated in his seat in front of the mirror. You mumbled an apology, anxiously looking to the silver-haired man who had stood up from his seat. He approached the pair of you, his stance intimidating as was his gaze when he regarded both of you.
“The preparation for the lift is all wrong, Tomás,” he reprimanded. Aemond gestured for the young danseur to step aside, taking his place. The ballet master gestured for you to repeat the movement, and obeyed. You took a step before jumping, turning mid-air before being caught into Aemond’s arms. His grip was tighter than Tomás, more sure. You felt safe while being lifted, your whole body pressed against his taut chest.
“You have to hold her tight. Keep her stable, yes?” Aemond emphasized. He continued to hold you flush to his chest with ease, showing Tomás the exact position he wanted you to to end in.
“How’d that feel?” The silver-haired man asked you, his hot breath fanning the side of your face. He carefully placed you back on your feet, keeping his hand on your waist until you were able to stand. Slightly flustered from thay singular touch, you timidly pushed back the loose strands of hair on your face to look at him.
“Uh, good! Pretty stable,” you squeaked. His touch left a warm imprint on your flesh, lingering even after Aemond walked back to his seat.
“Alright, now try it on your own,” the Targaryen urged. The music started back up, and you tried the lift again with Tomás. You earned a low ‘good’ from Aemond when you had done the lift a little more successfully with his guidance, though the difference in the men’s grip was evident.
You continued on with the rehearsal, flowing through the choreography with Tomás under Aemond’s watchful eye. He caressed his chin as he kept a close eye on your movements, signalling to the pianist to pause when either of you did a step not to his liking. With every partnering trick that came up, Aemond made sure to show Tomás, standing from his chair to turn, hold, and lift you before urging the younger danseur to try. About halfway through the piece, his grip on your body had grown familiar, with the way his large palm covered the expanse of your waist, his touch firm on your thigh, and the featherlight caresses on your arm.
After the endless corrections and directions from Aemond, he made you start from the top once more. You took slow breaths as you presumed your initial position, pacing yourself as you started off the dance with a few counts where danced alone. It was going smoothly, miraculously enough, but you must have jinxed yourself because as you shifted to turn, you felt it. A sharp pain shot up your ankle, making you stop and drop to the floor in an instant. You clutched your ankle, hissing in pain. In a blink of an eye, Aemond was by your side, kneeling beside you.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Let me see,” he urged, his tone now softer as he looked at you in concern. It was an old injury, a sprain from the start of your career that continued to haunt you now and then. You shook your head at the silver-haired man, before pushing yourself off the floor.
“It’s fine, Mister Targaryen. This always happens,” you reassured him, waving him off. Aemond stood back to his full height, gripping your elbow to steady.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup, I’m sure. Let’s continue,” you said, keeping the tone of your bright to reassure the silver-haired man before you. However, you could barely take a step forward without hissing in pain, your right ankle unable to bear the weight of your body. Aemond was quick to catch you before you stumbled, and you held onto both of his biceps. They were ridiculously firm under your touch, and if you weren’t in an immense amount of pain you would have ogled at the way they flexed underneath your palms.
“This won’t do, darling. I think this is enough for the day for the two of you,” Aemond sternly ordered, wrapping your arm around his shoulder to keep you stable.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tomás grumbled, frustrated with the interruption. Aemond’s eye shot up to the young man, his gaze sharp after hearing his complaint.
“Don’t give me that attitude when you can barely do a decent menáge. Now get the fuck out of my studio.”
You jolted at the sudden rise in Aemond’s voice, watching as Tomás practically shrunk in his skin, hurriedly turning around to grab his bags and leave the studio while the man beside you glared at the young dancer sharply. The moment the door shut behind Tomás, Aemond turned back to you, his gaze now rid of the harshness it had carried.
“Let’s get you to the therapy room, yeah?” He softly urged. When it had still been too mich for you to walk with his support, Aemond swiftly lifted you with his arms underneath your body, carrying you bridal style. Your face burned with embarrassment with having to be carried off by your strict, ridiculously hot ballet master this way, but he had been gentle with you.
Aemond stayed by your side as the physical therapist massaged the joint. His good eye watched you when your face contorted into one of discomfort when your ankle was rotated. You had thanked him profusely for his aid, and had tried to reassure him you were good to be left alone, but the silver-haired man stayed by your side silently, keeping a close eye on you.
You had been out of commission for three days, which you spent anxiously anticipating to be dropped from the role by your ballet master. You were done for, you decided. You had blown your chance, pathetically so in front of Paris Opera’s most influential ballet master.
As soon as you were cleared to return to rehearsals, you immediately jumped to your feet and practicing on your own. You went through the choreography over and over, finetuning your movements as you watched yourself in the mirror. It was late at night and you were the only one left in the building, or at least, you thought you were.
The door to the studio you occupied flew open, making you jump when the silver-haired man casually walked into the room. You stopped in your tracks, heart racing as he regarded you, seemingly unsurprised after finding you.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” Aemond said, his smooth voice cutting through the music you plugged into the speakers.
“The doctor cleared me for rehearsals, Mister Targaryen,” you explained, to which he only responded with a hum. His good eye ran over your form, which was only clad in a leotard and athletic shorts. Your hair was down, as it was supposed to be in Le Parc, and your face was flushed from exertion, damp with sweat. Aemond took slow steps towards you with his hands clasped behind his back, meeting you in the middle of the room.
“You need to take better care of yourself, you know. A tear in your ligament is a tear forever,” he spoke, coming to tower in front of you. It was then you became insecure of your appearance, with your messy hair and sweaty face compared to his well-kept appearance. Your eyes stared into his good one, the other a cloudy white. He was incredibly handsome up close, this you realized, the sight of his sculptured jaw and aquiline nose making you visibly gulp. Your gaze dropped to his thin lips, which pursed before opening to speak once more.
“Yes, I know, Mister Targaryen, I’m sorry,” you muttered, tearing your gaze away to the floor. Two fingers placed themselves on the bottom of your chin, moving your head to look at him once more.
“Why are you apologizing?” Aemond asked. Your cheeks warmed as you stammered, unable to form a response. Truthfully, you were unsure why, perhaps it was for his disappointment for having hurt yourself, or for not having lived up to his expectations. The words you scrambled to find died on your lips when Aemond brushed a stray hair away from your face, before cupping you chin between his fingertips.
“I am only looking out for you. The Paris Opera may have some of the best rehab therapists under our roof, but some injuries just cannot be healed,” he said. Your eyes flickered to his cloudy eye, the rumors of his injury running through your mind.
You had heard in the past of the child protégé that was Aemond Targaryen, a young star destined for greatness. His family was descended from royalty and had been dancing in the King’s courts during the early formation of ballet. It was safe to say the young Targaryen was on his way to becoming one of the biggest stars in the ballet world, winning competitions left and right, receiving offers from the most prestigious ballet schools– Vaganova, Bolshoi, Joffrey, they all wanted him. The young danseur knew this was his legacy, to forge his name with the brightest stars in the ballet world. However, ballet was a deathly competitive sport, and dancers would do anything to climb the ranks, this Aemond had learned the hard way.
At 16, he had landed himself a spot as a finalist for the Prix de Lausanne, the most prestigious competition in the world, just a month before he was to fly off to Russia for training. It was the night before finals, he had been resting in his hotel room when a group of rowdy, inebriated dancers had knocked upon his door, wanting a glimpse of the famous silver-haired danseur. The details of the night remained unclear to the public to this day, but it was said that they had cornered the young Targaryen in his room, engaging in a scrapple that ended with Aemond rushed to the hospital, clutching his bleeding eye. That night, Aemond Targaryen’s dancing career met its tragic end. The ballet companies that once begged for him no longer wanted a scarred dancer who was blind in one eye, and his legacy had been reduced to nothing but a sad story.
And now, the silver-haired man stood before you, clutching your face as he studied your features. You were surely too close to each other to be considered appropriate, even more so when his free hand found its way to the dip in your waist, his warmth exuding through the fabric of your leotard.
“I don’t want to have to see you take your final bow before you reach the top,” he said lowly, his face subtly dipping an inch closer to yours. Your eyes slightly widened at his words, staring into his good eye for any sign of insincerity; you found none.
“You think I can reach the top?” you asked in disbelief, heart hammering in your ears. The corner of Aemond’s lips quirked upwards, his hand squeezing the flesh on your hip.
“Of course, you are one of the company’s most promising dancers,” he said, nodding lightly. You preened at his words, biting your lip as a big smile threatened to break out on your features. Your eyes fell to your fingers, fiddling with them as you turned shy at the ballet master’s high praise. The silver-haired man breathed out a chuckle at your reaction, his hand on your chin caressing the back of your head before settling on the nape of your neck.
“However,” he voiced, making you look back up at him. His face turned serious, making your own smile drop at his change of tone. “You have to go above and beyond to be nominated by your superiors. We have many talented dancers, many of whom are trying to climb the ranks, just like you. You have to make yourself stand out from the rest, do you understand?”
You nodded your head eagerly at him, your eyes displaying your sheer determination. “Yes, I understand, Mister Targaryen. I’m willing to do anything,” you said. There was a shift in Aemond’s eye when you uttered those words, the blues of his good eye brewing something darker. The grip on your waist turned tighter, shifting to rest on the small of your back as he pulled you in close.
“Anything?” he whispered.
“Y-yes, anything,” you replied. It was then you had begun to doubt your words, even more so when Aemond merely stared at you, his gaze analytic. A shudder ran up your spine when his eye dropped to your lips. A hum vibrates from his chest, and then he was pulling away from you, the warmth that engulfed you dissipating into a chill.
“Good. Now, why don’t we start from the top?” Aemond suddenly said, taking you by surprise. He raised his eyebrows at you, urging you to restart the music. You scrambled to where your phone was plugged into the speakers, restarting the music, before taking your starting position. Aemond positioned himself where the male dancer started, right in the center facing you. Your eyebrows furrowed while you did your first movements, clearly not expecting him to dance with you.
“You’re dancing with me?” you asked, confused. He merely smirked at you, watching you slowly move to the music towards him.
“Of course, you need to have a partner for this one, don’t you?”
The moment you touched him, Aemond started to move along with you. You flowed around him, soft and gentle. His moves were fluid, with textbook perfect technique and beautiful artistry. It was clear Aemond knew the choreography by heart, dancing along with you with ease. You subtly watched him through the mirror, amazement clear in your eyes. You were dancing with the Aemond Targaryen, being held and lifted by his strong hands. He danced like he had never left, flowing through the soft music while still clad in his boots and trousers.
“Don’t overthink it, little star, just move,” he encouraged, noticing how you were too focused on getting the movements right. With his advice, you willed yourself to let the tension in your shoulders go, gliding along the floor with Aemond’s guidance.
“There you go, well done.” Your face visibly brightened at his praise, meeting his eye in the mirror. A flush ran down from your cheeks down to your chest as he winked at you, a roguish smirk on his handsome features.
An incredulous smile broke out on your face as Aemond lifted you high up into the air with ease, still in disbelief with having found yourself in such a position. The dance was passionate, requiring great trust with your partner which you found with the silver-haired man with no trouble. You hadn’t felt this way when dancing with Tomás, nor with anyone really, with the way your muscles took a mind of its own and your body moved automatically with Aemond’s. To dance with the silver-haired man was something electric, filling you with an invigorating sensation as you sailed through the tunes of Mozart. You were lost in the music, you were lost in him, with the way his hands lingered a second too long after lifting you, his breath fanning over your face from your close proximity.
“Beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, snaking his arm around your waist when you leaned against him. Your heart raced as your chest heaved, from the exertion or from the adrenaline of dancing with the Targaryen man, you knew not. You missed the way Aemond’s eye raked down your form through the mirror, his gaze stuck on the sight of your nipples pebbled against the fabric of your leotard.
You stepped away from Aemond as you neared the climax of the piece, and it was then you faltered. You knew what was coming – the kiss. It was the highlight of Le Parc, with the dancers engaging in a long, passionate kiss as the man turned them around continuously. Your eyes were filled with uncertainty as you stood before Aemond, who was still watching your every move. Your fingers slightly trembled as you ran a hand down his body, and your breath shuddered when he did the same. You continued your movements around him, mind racing whether or not you should go through with the kiss. It was inappropriate, with him being your superior… but it was part of the choreography, was it not?
You faltered when you face to face before him, and for a second, you figured he wouldn’t want you to do it, but then you see it. A subtle dip of his head, and a flicker of his good eye towards your lips, waiting. You rose to the balls of your feet, planting your lips against his.
Aemond’s lips stayed on yours while your arms crossed at the back of his neck. His torso leaned back as you lifted your feet up the air, your whole weight leaned against his. You felt his lips move against yours as he spun you around, faster and faster around the room. You felt breathless and dizzy when he placed you back to the ground, but before you could continue with the choreography, Aemond’s hand grabbed the back of your neck to pull you back into his lips.
A gasp left your lips in shock, parting on instinct. Aemond’s tongue forced its way into the cavern of your mouth, the hot, wet muscle caressing your own. You pushed him away by the chest, but his stronger grip on you rendered you unable to pull away.
“Aem– Mister Targaryen, please,” you panted, trying to tear away the forceful hold on your waist. His other hand grabbed the hair on the back of your head, pulling on your damp tresses to make you look at him.
“You said you would do anything, wouldn’t you? Don’t you want to shine, my little star?” Aemond growled, before latching his lips on your sweaty neck. He groaned at the taste of your salty flesh, biting and sucking on the soft skin. You whimpered, your pulse thrumming dangerously against Aemond’s lips as you continued to push him off.
“I can make you shine. You’ll be first cast in any role you desire. You know I can make that happen for you,” he continued, pulling away to meet your teary gaze. The corners of your lips quivered downward when he caressed the side of your face, the touch giving you little comfort. Your whole body tensed when he pressed you flush into him, a stiffness poking into your thigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, swaying both of your bodies to the music that still continued to play through the speakers.
“You will be a star, my shining star. You want that, don’t you?” Aemond asked, his tone sticky sweet. As you met his sharp gaze, you weighed your options. He was right, he held the power to place you on top of one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the world, but you didn’t want to do it this way. You had the talent, and you wanted to prove your worth for the role, but he also had the power to take everything away from you. He can demote you, fire you, crush your entire career to nothing but dust. You couldn’t let that happen.
With a gulp and a soft nod, you shuddered when Aemond smirked down at you. His hand pushed your shoulder down, urging you to your knees. Shame coursed through you as you watched him unbuckle his dress pants to pull out his cock. A gasp left your lips when you were met with the sight of his impressive length. A throbbing vein ran the underside of his shaft, its cockhead flushed a deep red as it weeped a clear liquid. His hand guided the tip to your lips, but you kept them closed, turning your head away in refusal. With a frustrated grunt, Aemond’s free hand cupped your face, roughly turning it back to his cock. With your cheeks squeezed and your lips slightly parted, he slipped his length in. A delighted hum reverberated from your ballet master’s chest as he thrusted languidly into your mouth, adding inch by inch until he bottomed out. Your eyes squeezed shut when his tip hit the back of your throat, unable to resist the gag that squeezed his cockhead when it touched your uvula. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail, Aemond barely gave you a chance to take a breath before setting a steady pace of his hips. Your hands gripped his muscular thighs to balance yourself, hot tears dripping down your cheeks.
“Use your tongue,” the Targaryen ordered. You complied obediently, even going so far as hollowing your cheeks to please him further. You were starting to resign to your faith, if this is what it took to make you an étoile, fuck it. Aemond threw his head back, groaning in delight at the added pleasure.
“Fuck, that’s it. My obedient little star,” he praised. His hips picked up their pace, pushing in and out of your mouth fast. The sound of your mouth taking his cock filled the studio, coupled with the music that continued to play from the speakers. His grunts continued to fall from his lips, his thrusts growing desperate as he neared his release. All of a sudden, Aemond pulled you off his cock. You coughed as you struggled to catch your breath, wiping off the pre-cum left on the side of your cheek. The flesh of your arm was gripped tight when the Targaryen pulled you to your feet, guiding you towards the mirror.
He turned you to face the reflection, your eyes meeting the sight of your flushed, teary face, lips swollen and cheeks stained with tears. Aemond caressed the exposed flesh of your arms softly, dipping his neck into the crook of your neck to suck a mark into the soft skin. You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled back at the sensation, cursing your own body for its traitorous ways. His fingertips came up to hook into the straps of your leotard, pulling them down in one motion along with your bottoms. You crossed your arms instinctively to cover your parts, but Aemond was quick to stop you, grabbing your wrists to keep them by your sides.
“Don’t hide yourself from me now,” he scolded, tutting in mocking disapproval. You watched in the mirror as his eye took in your bare form hungrily, your body growing warm at his lingering gaze on your exposed breasts. His fingertips held a featherlike touch while they glided up the length of your arm, before grabbing hold of your plump tits firmly. A breath is hitched in your throat when he squeezed the soft flesh, a whine falling from your lips when he squeezed your perky nipples between his fingertips. You felt his cock jump behind you, hitting your rear. His touch traveled downwards, to your waist, your hips, and then cupping your sex with his large palm. A satisfied smirk spread on Aemond’s features when he pulled away his hand, the tips of his long fingers visibly wet and stick with your arousal when he spread them.
“Well, well, it seems like you’re enjoying yourself, little star,” he bragged, chuckling darkly when you meekly shook your head. “Deny yourself all you want, but your body will be thanking me by the end of this.”
“Please,” you pleaded. What you pleaded for, you didn’t know at this point, but you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere good at that point. You let him bend you over, pressing your hands to the cool mirror to steady yourself.
You waited with bated breath as you felt Aemond line himself with your slit, gasping when he began to breach. The slick from your saliva on his cock helped lubricate his length, coupled with the slick that dripped from your core against your will. Your jaw fell slack at the almost painful stretch of your walls, a small whimper falling from your lips when he finally bottomed out. Aemond let out a groan when his hips met your ass, his hand leaving your waist to deliver a smack to the plump flesh. His aquiline nose pressed into your cheek, breathing in the sweet scent of your warm, damp flesh. His pace was unforgiving from the start, forceful and aggressive. The silver-haired man’s gripped your breasts in his large hands to ground himself, reaching deeper and deeper into your walls.
“Ah, ‘s so good, baby,” Aemond praised, biting the shell of your ear as he groaned. Despite how much you fought your own urges, you barely registered when your lips started to emit soft sounds that echoed through the room. The music had already ended, the only sound left being the smacking of skin against skin, and the sounds coming from you and Aemond. You both watched the way his length disappeared into your cunt, your chest starting to grow speckled with a red flush the more your body grew heated. His cock drove into the rough spot that made your skin tingle, sending sparks up your spine despite your wishes. Your hips moved on their own accord, subtly meeting his thrusts. Aemond let out a breathy chuckle in your ear, planting a kiss to the side of your head.
“Yeah, you like it, don’t you? Like my cock, pretty girl?” You bit your lip as you nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut in humiliation. The Targaryen tutted in your ear, grabbing your face to make you meet his gaze in the mirror.
“Look at me,” he ordered. You opened your hesitantly to meet his, though they threatened to close once more when his fingertips dipped down to circle your clit. Soft moans fell from your lips as he played with the bundle of nerves, the heat in your belly disgracefully growing the more he rubbed on your nub. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be ashamed. I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? Hm? Taking good care of my little star.”
Aemond was mindlessly rambling in your ear, his words making your stomach flip at the lewdness. His hips never faltered, snapping harshly into your ass continuously. The air in the room was hot and humid, droplets of sweat beading off of yours and Aemond’s skin. You whined as the heat in your belly rapidly grew upwards, rising to your chest. Your walls began to clamp down on Aemond’s cock, squeezing his length deliciously. He groaned into your ear, his fingertips still circling your clit hard.
“F-fucking hell, you gonna come?” The danseur asked. You grabbed his taut bicep in one hand, leaning your head back against his shoulder as a series of whiny ‘yesses’ fell from your lips. He continued to spurn you further, keeping his good eye on you when a particularly harsh thrust had you falling apart on his arms. The sight of your teary face scrunched up in pleasure, coupled with the sound of the sweet moan echoing through the quiet studio was what drove Aemond to his own release. He came with a loud grunt, spilling his hot seed into your walls. His strong grip around your waist held you up when your knees grew weak from the weight of your climax. Regaining your senses, you held onto Aemond for support, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. The imprint of your hands stained the glass, the gravity of the situation dawning on you as you stood in the aftermath. Shame washed over you for having debased yourself for leverage, and for finding pleasure in Aemond’s corrupted wickedness. The silver-haired man behind you held a smug look on his face, releasing a satisfied sigh before leaning his head against yours.
“Perfect.”
The cheers and applause of the crowd threatened to deafen your senses, yet it was a welcome sensation. You had taken your bow after a successful performance, standing with the numerous dancers on stage. Everyone waited with bated breath for the upcoming announcement, the air buzzing with equal excitement and nerves.
“Ladies and gentlemen, join us in congratulating the Paris Opera Ballet’s newest étoile,” the voice boomed through the theater. You turned to look at a nervous Tomás, giving him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. However, it wasn’t his name that was called, but yours.
The shock was visible on everyone’s features, as it was in yours. You felt their heated stares behind you while you stayed rooted to your spot, frozen in disbelief.
A tall figure walked onto the stage, holding a bouquet of flowers. The applause only thundered louder as the crowd is blessed with the sight of Aemond Targaryen, who was walking towards you with a smile on his face. Having been responsible for your promotion, he was the first to congratulate you, handing you the extravagant arrangement of flowers. He kissed both your cheeks respectfully, before whispering, “Congratulations, my little star. I trust I shall be seeing more of your graceful talents soon enough, yes?”
You looked up to meet his gaze, taking in the suggestive tone in his voice. It was then you realized what you had gotten to, what you had paid for greatness. Your lips widened to a sweet smile, giving Aemond a small nod, much to his satisfaction.
#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell#hotd x reader
343 notes
·
View notes
Text
spencer reid m.list
❣︎- fluff ఌ- smut/suggestive ♡︎- angst
ఌ meeting the old friend | spencer brought you out to meet his old friend, ethan, but he deeply regrets it when ethan starts to flirt with you right in front of him.
❣︎ is it that obvious? | you and spencer were closer than normal when showing up at rossi’s dinner party which causes for teasing from derek and a kiss at the end of the night.
ఌ working all day | spencer’s being a brat because you’ve been working all day, leaving you no choice but to fix his attitude for him.
❣︎ periods and colds | being sick and on your period is never a easy thing. the symptoms that come with it are even worse but you're still determined to go to work and it's up to spencer to make sure you stay home and get taken care of.
♡︎ jj’s confession | the aftermath of jj’s fuck up.
ఌ sober enough | while out at a bar with the team the tension between you and spencer grew to be thicker until it was too much to stand.
ఌ mean but he likes it | spencer finds that he likes it when your upset.
ఌ right here, right now | “you know, i could always get you off right here, right now”
ఌ untitled blurb | making spencer suck your strap before you fuck him.
ఌ worship you | spencer takes notice of how you react to being praised so he takes that information and runs with it.
ఌ home remedy | spencer's a genius, he knows everything and one thing he's learned is that orgasms help with cramps.
ఌ early in the morning | spencer always wakes up before you and he usually takes time to himself to admire you. this morning is different though, he wakes up with the sudden need to bury his head between your thighs.
ఌ discovery | while being pinned down underneath you, spencer really can't think of anything other than filling you up with his cum.
ఌ one more | spencer's a munch. that's it. that's the summary.
ఌ change of plans | the arrangement you had with spencer, friends with benefits, quickly changes to more than that when he sees a cop flirting with you on the job.
ఌ book club | you can’t stop finding yourself in spencer’s bed, even after you’ve broken up.
❣︎ ఌ backwards | you and spencer never got along, with him just getting back from prison and you being the newbie, until you do and things start moving faster than expected.
ఌ ruining him | basically just ruining spencer…
♡︎ ❣︎ ఌ addiction | spencer's working through his addiction and you hate to see him in pain. you was to try and take his mind off of things, even if it'll only last a little while.
❣︎ share the attention | having a new baby around means that majority of the attention goes to it. your daughter thinks that with all the attention your giving the baby you've forgotten about her, luckily spencer is there to explain to her that you both will never forget her.
ఌ substitution | after running out of candies to suck on, you and spencer find a different way to keep your mouth occupied.
ఌ gold chain | post-prison!spencer + gold chain + talking you through it. dangerous combination.
ఌ sativa | having sex with spencer but your both high
ఌ date night | it’s supposed to be date night with just you and spencer but that quickly ended when a guy started to flirt with you. (including aaron hotchner)
ఌ hot tub | after a long case you and spencer find yourselves wanting the same thing, to relax in the hotels hot tub, but the tension between you was so thick it led to doing more things than relaxing.
ఌ I'm onto you | based on "haunted" by beyoncé
ఌ professor | you've always had eyes for your professor, always doing or wearing something that'll provoke him. one day you wear a particularly short skirt and spencer decides he can't take it anymore…
ఌ teacher of all things | spencer may be your professor but how to catch a serial killer isn't the only thing hes teaching you.
❣︎ incoming baby | you and spencer get into an argument over something as silly. while he's too busy being stubborn, you're busy going into labor.
ఌ nyquil | you fuck him so good he falls asleep immediately after you finish.
ఌ mile high | you're bored and teasing spencer seemed to be harmless and entertaining until he pops a boner, you take your chances with inviting him into the small bathroom to have a quickie.
ఌ touch starved | spencer was alone for so long before you got together and he's just so touch starved he gets hard just from looking at you, even if you had just got done having sex.
ఌ talk to me | making spencer talk to you while you jerk him off.
♡︎ mess it up | spencer hadn't been answering any of your phone calls and every time you showed up at his apartment he pretended he wasn't home. so, you go to his job, hoping to get a second chance with him. based on “mess it up” by gracie abrams
ఌ that boy’s a munch | spencer’s a munch. that’s it.
♡ ❣︎ ︎ ఌ honeymoon | sex has always been a bad subject growing up, it was shunned upon to give into your bodies desires without being married or wanting kids. the abuse that came with this topic has caused you to hide away from it, you've never told spencer but when you do, he makes sure to make you as comfortable as he can.
❣︎ mirrorball | spencer notices how you put other people before you all the time so he decides to do something special for just you.
ఌ distract him | spencer looks amazing reading his book, his lip tucked between his teeth and his hands trailing across the page. you can't help but pull him onto your lap and distract him.
ఌ much better | pegging spencer when he gets home after a long case
ఌ a challenge | making spencer cum by just playing with his nipples
ఌ playboy bunny | while being questioned in regards to a murder investigation, your only way of proving your innocence is the tattoo you have on your underboob.
ఌ shade of purple | spencer’s watching you paint your nails his favorite shade of purple and can’t help but let his mind wander.
ఌ hidden freak | spencer's not very used to having to hide hickeys on his body and you had to leave before he had the chance to ask you how to hide it. doing the best he could, he threw on a shirt with a collar and hoped for the best.
♡︎ you're too sweet for me | spencer is your dad's best friend and you're fresh out of college. what happens when he's innocently picking you up from a night out with your friends turns into a heartbreak?
ఌ birthday boy | it’s spencer’s birthday and derek’s birthday gift to him is a trip to the strip club and private dance.
ఌ next time just ask | you’ve had an attitude with spencer all day long, he finds the one thing that’ll make it go away
ఌ intelligence is attractive | spencers always had a crush on you but the way you show your intelligence does him in like nothing else.
❣︎ hollywood star | you and spencer had been in the early stages of your relationship when lila archer came along(or her stalker to put it better). you already weren’t fond of her when she’d been giving spencer heart eyes the entire time but when gideon sent him to watch over her for the night, that really set you off.
ఌ first timer | you’re taking spencer’s virginity and everything is just so much for him that he starts to cry.
ఌ lingerie | you're showing spencer all the lingerie sets you got while out shopping with the girls and you knew he'd like them but you underestimated just how much he'd like them.
ఌ wait your turn | having two partners is great and very fun until you're stuck on the sidelines while they have all the fun. (including aaron hotchner)
ఌ he’s clueless | your boy is a genius but when it comes to sex, he's absolutely clueless.
ఌ patched up | spencer had gotten hurt while on a case and it was up to you to patch him back up, which wouldn’t have been an issue if the tension between you wasn’t so thick.
#golden1u5t#myrarants#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid masterlist
329 notes
·
View notes
Note
happy birthday! 🌻🌻🌻 mdzs identity porn or dealer’s choice please :)
When Shawn is twelve years old, he goes out to ride his bike before dinner and never comes back.
It’s not the first time Shawn’s stayed out later than he was supposed to, so Madeline sighs and puts dinner in the oven and goes searching, figures the walk will at least be an opportunity to snap some photos with her new camera. But as she walks block after block and there’s no sign of her son, she becomes even more concerned.
One hour crawls to two. She returns home to phone the Gusters, but they say Shawn isn’t there, that Gus hasn’t seen him since yesterday. Heart in her throat, she dials the station.
“Hi Honey,” Henry says, distracted. “I told you I was working late-”
“I can’t find Shawn,” she says.
There’s a one tense beat of silence then he snaps, “What are you talking about?”
“He went out on his bike and he didn’t come back for dinner and I didn’t see him anywhere and he’s not with Gus,” she says and she can hear the tears in her voice. “Henry.”
“Karen and I are taking a cruiser out to look for him,” he says, voice suddenly all business. “You stay at home and call dispatch if he comes home, alright?”
“Alright,” she whispers, “what if-”
“Maddie,” he interrupts, voice firm and unyielding and still not enough to hide his fear. “This is Shawn. I’m sure he just got caught up in something. Everything is going to be fine.”
~
“You can’t just take him!” she says, eyes wild in a way they hadn’t been while he helped her unload groceries. “He’s not like the practice people, someone will notice he’s missing!”
“Yes,” says the old man, with a sturdy, implacable face that’s somehow so much unsettling than her mania. “That is unfortunate. We’ll have to move. But you shouldn’t have invited him inside.”
“Just let him go,” she insists. “We have to move anyway. Just tie him up and pack everything and we’ll be long gone by the time he wriggles free. He doesn’t know anything.”
He sighs. “Darling. He noticed the blood.”
“No, he didn’t,” she says, then looks to him. “Did you?”
Shawn shakes his head, the gag in his mouth preventing him from talking, which is unfortunate, because he’s better at lying when he’s speaking.
He had noticed the blood, faint as it was against the wall, and the scuff marks, and he was planning on getting out of there and going straight to his dad and telling him that he thinks he knows what’s really happening to the beach bums that have washed up on shore, and it’s got nothing to do with too much alcohol and high tide.
She would have let him leave. He was almost out the door when the old guy showed up.
“He’s a clever boy, I’ll give him that,” he says, offhand. “It’s unfortunate.”
He opens into a drawer and pulls out a knife. Shawn tugs even harder at his bonds, but they don’t give an inch.
“No!” She steps in front of him, arms wide. “I like him! He’s nice, and good, and you can’t play with him. I won’t let you.”
Anger wild enough to make Shawn flinch away steals across his face before he folds it back under his veneer of civility. “Very well, darling. You can have a playmate. But if he can’t be controlled, he must be disposed of. Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she says, shifting to completely block him from Shawn’s view – and Shawn from his, which he thinks may have been her goal. “Thank you. We’ll be good.”
“You better be,” he says sternly. “Don’t make me regret this, Yang.”
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
Genius (2) - Restless
Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader
Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.
Story masterlist / Previous part / Next part
Word count: 3.2k
-What time is it now where you are? We follow beats with different drums. We're looking at the same star-
Once upon a time you were precious to Cairo, her best friend, someone she played with, someone she read with, someone she read to, someone she could trust. She didn’t exactly meet you, you’ve been a part of her life way before she understood anything about the world around her. You came into her life as the daughter of her parents’ friends slash colleagues. A way for her parents to show their dominance, she supposed. Your parents weren’t as wealthy, as successful, or influential as her parents, and looking at it now, there may have been some envy and or superiority complex from one pair of parents to another.
It didn’t influence the two of you, you were just kids who happened to spend time together and have fun. She was a lonely child, as not a lot of kids wanted to even get close to Lovell Hill, but seeing as your parents kept bringing you along you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter at first.
Everything was much simpler before the two of you started going to school…
~X~
Clumsy.
That was the word she would have used to describe you back then.
“I don’t like it here, Cai,” you were smaller than her back then and you were frightened of the forest surrounding her house, even if you were close to the road. Insects freaked you out, you jumped at the smallest sounds, you were so easy to scare, but Cairo really wanted to show you something nice in the forest, to show you it wasn’t all bad.
She’s been holding your hand, pulling you along through the dark forest, unlike you she wasn’t afraid or freaked out by the forest. It was a part of her world, unapproachable, haunting, yet beautiful at the same time. Of course, back then she just took it for granted, it was around her house so of course she didn’t mind it.
“Cai, come on, let’s go back,” you tried again, but you still went along with her whims.
“C’mon, it’s close!” she was excited to take you to the bush of wild roses she came across a few days ago.
You groaned, but didn’t put up a fight and then, just as she was supposed to see the bush, she dropped your hand, and you stumbled right into her. But she didn’t get annoyed, she was too confused, too distraught by the sight of an old tree that fell over the bush.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, yet she still didn’t respond. “Cai? Cairo?” you probably followed her line of sight, as you let out a small ‘oh’ a few seconds later.
She wasn’t that smart back then, she didn’t funny understand what she was feeling, but looking back at that moment now she figured that was the first time she began understanding the nature of her home. A beautiful flower growing despite harsh environmental conditions, only to be crushed by an old decaying good for nothing tree way past its prime. The forest around her house, the whole village, functioned the same way. And though she longed to be free, to spread her wings, to bloom outside of the restraints placed upon her by her surrounding, she couldn’t. She too, much like the rose bush she failed to show you, didn’t know how to escape the earth she was stuck in.
‘I’ll do it before I start high school,’ she thought, but didn’t know where to start, and she didn’t have anyone to do it with.
‘I’ll do it during high school,’ she thought, but she never had the courage to even get on a bus to the nearby town.
‘I’ll do it after I graduate,’ was her newest mantra, but deep down she feared what was to come.
She’s been told repeatedly that she was exceptional.
It was easy to be exceptional when everyone around her seemed content with their lives here. Never striving to stand out.
But, she didn’t understand that as a six years old girl standing in the middle of the forest with you by her side. But she did feel like something was breaking her heart.
“Hey,” you took her hand ad for once you were pulling her away from the crushed rose bush, as if understanding somehow that she didn’t want to stay there, even if she didn’t move on her own. Your hand was warm, though not nearly as warm as the tears falling down her cheeks, and she often wondered what you felt at that moment? What did you see when you looked from the roses on the ground to her? Did it change you in any way? Or was it just another day or you? Something you forgot within days, or even hours.
She never really asked you, but the sight stayed burnt in her mind and she still hated how well she could visualize it if she only thought back to it.
~X~
You stopped complaining about the forest after that, you still didn’t like it, but, she didn’t have to drag you along anymore.
“Get it off me!” you cried, but still ran away from her. You were panicking about a spider that fell on your shoulder.
“So, stop running!” Cairo laughed, running after you to ‘save’ you from the evil monster that attacked you. It wasn’t even a big spider, it was tiny!
“Fine, but hurry up,” you whined, finally stopping and letting Cairo catch up to you.
Cairo looked you over, but didn’t see the spider. “It’s not here? Maybe it fell off?” she guessed. Well, with how you were running it wouldn’t be a surprise.
“Really?” you asked as she sat down on the grass.
“Yeah, come on and sit down,” she needed to catch her breath or a bit.
You just shook your head. “No. Bugs!” you pointed an accusing finger at the ground and as usual refused Cairo’s offer to sit with her.
Why did she even bother to ask you? She knew you’d say ‘no’. “Oh,” her eyes widened slightly when she saw the spider crawling back up to your shoulder. “Guess it didn’t fall off after all,” she chuckled uneasily.
“What?” you shrieked and looked to the side. “Cairo you meanie!”
Cairo just laughed as she finally got up and removed the small spider from your shoulder.
She was still six, and there, in the dark, spooky forest where a rose bush could never thrive, things were still simple.
~X~
At nine years old she was spending time at your house every now and then. And on one stormy day, when the two of you had no idea what to do, since you couldn’t go outside and the power was out, she just passed time by looking over the books your parents owned.
Finally, her eyes landed on Jules Verne’s “Around the World in Eighty Days,” and she reached up for it. The world. How she yearned to explore it, to see something beside the village she lived in, to see the huge cities, to go to the biggest amusement parks, to visit the best bookstores, to experience things she couldn’t in this village.
So, yearning for the experience the book title promised, she brought it over to you and sat down. “Wanna read?” she offered, her big eyes pleading or you to say yes.
You looked a bit uncertain, but eventually you just nodded and lit a candle so the two of you could read.
Cairo hugged you briefly and pulled you to the floor so you could lie down and read together. She was mesmerized, amazed by the idea, eager to read more and mentally pleading for you to read faster, but, by the time she would finish two pages you’d just start reading the second page.
“Sorry, I’m not a fast reader,” you apologized when you noticed she was waiting to turn the page.
It wasn’t that you read slowly, you read about as fast as anyone could expect from an eight year old, it was Cairo that was reading faster than she was supposed to. “Would you- I don’t know, read it to me? I think that might be quicker?” you suggested.
Cairo thought it over and nodded happily. Maybe it wouldn’t be as fast as if she only had the book for herself, but she wouldn’t have to pause. So, you rolled onto your back and put your arms behind your head as she began reading from the very beginning.
And to show just how much both of you enjoyed the book you kept reading, even as the power came back on and the rain stopped. It didn’t matter, you were still stuck in your book.
“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” Cairo read as your mother came in with glasses of juice and some snacks for the two of you.
“What are you two doing?” she asked, curiously looking at the open book in front of Cairo.
“We’re reading, ma’am,” Cairo said politely as your mother crouched down next to you.
“Reading? This one as well?” your mother nudged you gently and you grinned.
“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” You repeated word for word the last line Cairo read, and she and your mother just looked at you. “What? I was listening,” your grin dropped and you pouted slightly.
That was the first time Cairo realized that while she could remember almost anything she saw you could memorize sounds just as well.
~X~
It was simple and nice for another two years, and then it began shifting slowly. For the first time in her life Cairo didn’t get an A, she didn’t even get a B, but rather a C, but it would be fine, right? She was still the best in her class, seeing as only her and you got Cs, and it was a difficult test, the teacher said so as well!
She came inside to find her parents looking over some papers. A new case probably. “Father, mother,” she said a bit too quietly for her own liking. “I got the results for my test. I did my best and studied as much as I could, and the teacher said it was a-“
“Get to the point, Cairo,” her father cut her off.
Cairo looked down, test in hand. Why did the furniture around her suddenly look so much bigger than her. It felt like everything was looming over her, and just for a moment she remembered the sight of that rose bush crushed under the fallen tree. “I got a C,” she told them timidly.
Her mother finally looked at her. “A C? Are you stupid? How could you get a C?” Cairo winced at that but hearing that wasn’t nearly as bad as looking at her mother and seeing just how disappointed she was.
“We’ve given you everything, Cairo, and you’re wasting it playing all day long!” her father raised his voice, angry, furious even and she just looked down. “You are grounded, go to your room and fix this disgrace!”
She nodded, not daring to meet his eyes and began climbing up the stairs.
“Wait, what did L/N’s girl get?” her father suddenly demanded.
“A-a C as well,” she said and all hell broke loose as she curled up on her bed and tried to ignore her parents yelling, she was a disappointment, a burden, wasting their time and efforts, an ungrateful brat that would rather waste time running through the woods than study.
Unknowingly to her, you were having a much different conversation with your parents.
~X~
“Y/N,” your mother began once you were done eating dinner.
“Hm?” you looked away from the paper you were doodling on and turned to her.
“Did you get your test results?” she asked, smiling when you nodded.
“Yup! I got a C!” you exclaimed proudly causing both of your parents to look at you to see if you were joking with them.
“A C?” your father repeated, and you just nodded with a large grin on your face. “And you’re happy?”
“Yeah, it was really hard, even Cai only got a C!” you ran over to your schoolbag to show them the test.
You mother chuckled softly. “Well, if even Cairo got a C,” she smiled as you handed her the test. “I’m proud of you as long as you did your best,” she kissed your cheek softly.
~X~
When tomorrow came and you sat down next to Cairo she wanted to say hi, she wanted to talk to you like she usually would, she wanted to go and read with you again, but she still remembered the anger on her father’s face, the disappointment on her mother’s face, her blurry vision as she cried in her room.
She yearned for the attention of her parents, to have them talk to her, to take her to different places, to take her along with them at least every now and then, yet being the best student in her class wasn’t enough, and the mistake she made wasn’t to be tolerated.
“Hey, wanna play hide and seek later?” you asked between classes.
“Sorry, I have to study,” she muttered.
“Oh, tomorrow then?” she wanted to, she really did, but she didn’t want to get yelled at again.
“I don’t have time,” Cairo told you, making her tone as cold as she could.
“Cai, what’s wrong?” you were too perceptive for your own good.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, she didn’t mean to, she loved the nickname, it was the only nickname she ever had.
You paused, startled by her reaction. “Right, sorry,” you looked away.
“Just leave me alone, I’ll come to you if I feel like it,” she pushed you away, physically and stomped away, just so you couldn’t see the regret or tears in her eyes.
~X~ Present day ~X~
Cairo looked at you, her eyes wide in utter disbelief. You listened to her back then, you didn’t try to talk to her, you were waiting for her to come to you. Back then she wished she did that, she wished to do it every day. At the same time she wanted you to forget what she said, to approach her and get her to talk to you, to grab her hand and stop her from leaving. You never did that. So, a week passed, and she was still stubborn.
A month passed, and she was no longer stubborn, but she was worried you’d be angry that it took her so long.
Half a year passed, she turned twelve and spent her first birthday without you around, and that worry turned into spite. Out of spite she kept you at a distance, not even saying ‘hi’.
And then, shortly after that you moved with you parents and she wanted desperately to cry, but that would only make her parents angry at her again.
“Y/N,” she said uncertainly, despising how, even after so many years your name still fell so easily from her lips, how it still felt familiar on her tongue. You changed, grew up, grew taller than her, even if you were taller than her ever since the two of you were ten, now your height difference was noticeable even as you sat next to each other.
A cough broke her out of her thoughts. Right, the class just started. “I apologize,” she blushed a bit, thankful for the distraction. Thankful that she could listen to the author she admired, yet his words sounded so distant to her. You were right there, close enough to touch and Cairo felt hot and cold at the same time. She was happy, yet she couldn’t help but wonder how long ago you came back. Why didn’t you look for her? You said her name so softly, you didn’t make a scene, surely you weren’t angry at her, but why didn’t you try and visit?
It’s been years, surely you didn’t still intend to listen to her childish demand.
~X~
You could feel how tense she was throughout the whole class, glancing at you subtly from time to time and you wished to just reach over and place your hand on her shoulder. To ask her what was wrong. To not give up this time like you did all those years ago.
The bell rang but the two of you remained seated, neither truly willing to move, until finally, under Miller’s confused gaze, Cairo picked up her things and nodded at him to say goodbye.
“Cairo, wait,” you went after her and Winnie. “Let’s just grab a lunch, or old times sake?” you went straight to the point. This was Cairo, after all, she like subtlety, especially in books, but she also liked being direct when she wanted something. “I know a restaurant, I think you’ll like it,” you said when she looked at you.
“You had time to visit those, I see,” Cairo said, and you could have sworn she looked away almost bitterly.
“Cairo,” you tried, but she was already turning around to walk away. You felt as if something was squeezing your chest, a feeling of unease you couldn’t shake off, like letting her leave now, like this, would be a mistake you couldn’t come back from. And in that moment, you were reminded of you and her, years ago, as your friendship shattered. “I didn’t mean in the village,” you called after her, taking notice of the way Winnie froze and Cairo stiffened a bit.
“What?” she looked back, frowning as you closed the distance and offered her your hand.
“Let me take you out to a restaurant about an hour from here. Good food, peaceful, beautiful view, perfect for catching up. They even have live music,” you explained, just hoping she’d take your hand.
Winnie whistled at that. “Nice going new girl. Throw the girl a bone, Cairo,” she nudged Cairo a bit, but the girl remained silent, and you could almost imagine the gears turning in her head.
“Okay,” Cairo finally said, shaking your hand.
“Come on- wait, really?” Winnie looked genuinely surprised and just stared at your and Cairo’s connected hands.
“Thanks, Cairo,” you smiled softly.
“Is Saturday okay with you?” she asked, her expression softening as she took a small step closer to you. “Yeah,” the two of you just stood there, in the middle of the hall, in front of Miller’s classroom, as if captivated by one another to the point of forgetting the world around you.
Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
⟣ tartaglia
notes: based off the fact that i am indeed a sleepy drunk, and also inspired by diluc’s lore with firewater, also childe lore. he can smell when something is done cooking?
warnings: self indulgent, childe is referred to by his birth name, russian pet names, suggestive themes, fluff
it’s always a beautiful sight to see your boyfriend, ajax, when he cooks in the kitchen.
second to the battlefield, this place is his domain. the sound of soft music plays in the background, and he’s completely in his element. the ginger moves his hips to the rhythm, swaying ever so gracefully while mumbling the lyrics to the current song under his breath. he’s always been a great dancer, so you’re not surprised. it makes you wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.
you always adore seeing him in atmospheres such as this one, especially with how much he loves to cook. his lips are pursed in concentration, a cute crinkle to his nose on display from the small frown on his face. all of his movements are skilled and dexterous. his knife abilities—albeit ignoring the fact that he’s a harbinger—are precise and quick, almost like everything he’s doing is a second thought.
it may be the alcohol you had talking, or the everlasting love you have for him—or maybe both that gets you feeling extremely soft. the urge to kiss away the expression on his face is high, but you hold back on distracting him and starting something else entirely.
and speaking of distractions, your handsome boyfriend is sporting a v-neck crew shirt and some sweatpants. much different from his sharp work attire. and although loose, the material of his clothes are still somewhat form fitting. his back muscles had been flexing every so often in a way that makes it hard to peel your eyes away. you silently curse his lean muscular self for looking so soft and domestic. just really, how shameless—
“hey! you’re supposed to be helping, not slacking off!” ajax scolds, pointing a wooden spoon at you in a chastising way. but the playful lit to his tone suggests otherwise as he cocks his head, smiling. “mila, what are you daydreaming about from over there?”
you giggle, “sorry, i’m just admiring the view.”
he hums, his smile growing. “and is the view to your liking?”
“it’s likely.” you answering padding over to him.
“i hope so. i don’t look this good for nothing.”
once in his radius, he pulls you into his side, swaying you both as he stirs the food. he quietly tells you it’s his mother’s recipe and his favorite thing to make.
“may i try some?” you ask.
wordlessly, your boyfriend holds out a spoonful for you, and you happily eat off of the utensil. the juices and flavors evade your mouth, beating the rich aroma you’ve succumbed to long ago.
you close your eyes in bliss, blinking them open happily. “wow! it’s delicious, ‘jax!”
“it’s not done yet.” he explains, humbly. “almost, but not quite.”
“okay, perfectionist.” you laugh, going back for more. “still good enough to me.”
he pushes your hand back. “you’ll spoil your appetite.” he warns, frowning.
“i promise i don’t want a lot. just a smidge more. please?” you look up at him with the biggest doe eyes you can muster, and he falters, trying to look away and focus back on what he’s doing.
as uncharacteristic as it may seem, ajax does not put up very much of a fight. not that he could ever say no to you anyways.
he sighs, “alright…fine.”
while you sit and eat (after clearly giving up on helping), your boyfriend starts to ramble about some theater performance he wants to take you to in fontaine.
“so what do you think?”
you hum quietly in response, your cheek on your hand. “mmh that sounds nice…”
ajax glances over at you, concerned. you had grown awfully quiet.
“are you alright?” he asks, inspecting the rest of you for any strange signs. “we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“i want to, yes!” your thoughts are jumbled. “and m’fine. why?” you add to reassure him, “just tired.”
‘tired? you were fine just fifteen minutes ago. so full of energy, actually’ he thinks, watching the way your eyes are suddenly drooping.
“well don’t worry, i’m almost done.” ajax assures.
“hey. did you put this in the food?” you hold up the open bottle of white wine, and some of the contents spill out. however, your boyfriend is quick to grab it once seeing how you’re swaying.
suddenly it all clicks in his brain. “ahh, i might’ve put in too much.” he chuckles, now noting the smell of the food a little bit different than usual. stronger and sharper like the wine. “that explains things. plus the firewater we had from earlier.” he recalls you taking an impressive amount of shots, trying to out beat him.
“didn’t you once say something about sharing firewater with someone in the cold makes them trustworthy? i’ve done half the battle!” you say with pride, albeit wobbling a little. “let’s go sit outside later! we’ll see who freezes first!”
ajax stares at you in awe before laughing—loudly.
“milaya, you always surprise me with just how cute you can be.” he pinches your cheeks before moving his hand to your lower back, steering you towards the couch. “now come on, sit down. you’re going to fall over at this rate.”
“‘kay.” you mumble, letting him guide you. you don’t really feel yourself moving until the plush cushion under you meets your bottom.
“i’m just going to clean up and i’ll be right back. i promise.” he reassures, squeezing your hand before releasing it.
you jump back up eagerly, “i’ll help!”
“no, you’ll stay here.” he pushes you back down gently before standing up himself. there’s a stern look on his face as he says, “you’ve had too much to drink. that’s my fault.”
a small huff leaves your mouth and you pout. your eyes start to water. “then…at least sit with me!”
“the kitchen has to be cleaned up, lisichka.” he reminds gently.
your eyes grow wetter. “the kitchen is more important than me?”
he gives you a look. “nothing could ever be more important than you. you know that.”
“then…you’ll stay. it is your fault after all.”
he laughs, scratching the back of his head, “alright then. but only for a little bit.”
the minute he sits down, you promptly slide yourself onto his lap, wordlessly making yourself comfortable.
“oh? what’s this?” his heart swells. you’re usually too shy to initiate something like this, often leading him to pulling you onto him.
there’s a confused look on your face. “you said to sit down and stay here, so i’m doing that.” you blink slowly, head tilting. “did i sit wrong?”
“no, of course not.” he answers, kissing your forehead. thankfully you’re too out of it to tease him, or he’d never hear the end of it.
he shifts you so your legs straddle his lap. your face is buried in his neck, breathing in the smell of his aftershave and the pinewood scent of him. one hand reaches up towards his soft locks and mindlessly plays with it.
ajax feels his entire being burning with exhilaration. while he knows how to handle his alcohol way better than you do, he is not immune to your touches. he could get intoxicated and drunk on any little thing you do.
a satisfied exhale leaves the man and he closes his eyes for moment, his nose nuzzling your cheek. the feeling of your warm palms sliding across his face pull him out of the moment before your eyes meet.
you hum, staring at him closely. “have your eyes always looked like this?” you ask.
he blinks. “like what? and why?”
“they’re so blue. i’ve never seen eyes like yours before.”
“no, they haven’t.” he answers honestly. he tries to avert his attention away from you, but your hands grab his face again.
“they’re so pretty…like the ocean…” you breathe, now poking at his freckles. “you’re so pretty…”
the man is pretty sure he’s blushing right now when you speak, rambling and comparing him like the sea. of the comforting warmth and unpredictability of the weather, all comparable to his nature—which you love.
you must be trying to kill him, because what he doesn’t expect next is for you to kiss him on the nose, and then his cheeks.
by the time he’s chasing your lips with his own, you’re pulling back, giggling quietly.
“hey, you can’t just tease like that—“ you slump against him, and he freezes, eyes widening.
“milaya?”
“…”
pulling your face back from his chest, he notes that you’ve passed out.
ajax tugs you tight in his hold, tucking your face in the crook of his neck. the smell of your hair makes his heart grow even bigger and fonder.
“by the tsaritsa, my cute girlfriend can’t hold her alcohol well,” he laughs to himself, absently tracing shapes into your lower back, “i’m sure glad this happened at home, or god knows what would happen out in public.”
he doesn’t really know if he’d be more worried about your own safety, or the things he’d do if someone dared to take advantage of you.
either way, his endless vow to protect you couldn’t be broken anyway anyhow. not even in death. he’d be loyal to you for a thousand life times.
bonus:
waking up groggily, you rub your eyes, shield them from from the unavoidable brightness of the sun.
while warm light hits your face, it only makes you feel hot and cold all at the same time. a feeling that should be welcoming only suffocates you instead as an ache converges the nerve points in your head.
“rise and shine sleeping beauty.”
you turn limply, eyes widening at the sight of ajax standing in the doorway.
“i was really hoping on you waking up soon.” he says pushing the door open further. he holds a tray of food in his hands. padding over to you he nods to the water and ibuprofen on the bedside table. “once you eat some, you should really take that.”
maybe its the sleep in your eyes or the fact that you’re not fully awake yet, but you tear up. “you’re always taking care of me.”
“yep, that is my job.” he places the food down, leaning over to kiss away any stray tears.
“thank you.”
he clicks his tongue. “what did i tell you about thanking me for things like this?”
you roll your eyes. such a stubborn man.
you quietly tell him that your brain is foggy, and while you partially don’t want to know, wish that he recall what last happened when you were awake.
“you should’ve seen how cute you were while drunk. i don’t think i could ever forget it.” he laughs once he’s done recapping.
blood rushes to your cheeks, your face aflame. “i’m not going to be able to live this down, am i?”
ajax laughs again, “don’t think so! although, being passed out for pretty much the whole day is alarming, so i don’t think we will be letting you near any alcohol anytime soon.”
your shoulders droop, “i guess that’s fair…”
“don’t be so sad! here, let me feed you!” he moves behind you, sitting down on the bed so his legs are on either side of you. his chest presses into your backside as he reaches for the food.
“‘jax i can feed myself just fine.” you say, going for the spoon, but his reflexes are faster.
“please?” he looks down at you, hoping his ocean hues favor him.
you sigh. “fine.”
the two of you sit in comfortable silence as he feeds you, and you being hungrier than you realize, finish everything quickly.
“i almost forgot! you owe me something.” he says coyly.
you frown, “huh?”
“after all that teasing yesterday…you left me high and dry…” he sniffs.
you blink, and suddenly it’s clear what he’s insinuating. “a kiss?”
“so you remember?” he asks.
you shrug, “just barely…”
“well, know that you’re aware—“ he scoots towards you, knees bumping your own before he’s pulling you towards him.
a yelp leaves you. “b-but i just ate food! and…and i need to brush my teeth!” you protest, but he’s still hovering close over you.
“so?”
there’s no use, because the minute you open your mouth to reply, ajax swoops down, kissing you wordlessly and hungrily. his tongue brief swipes over yours before he soon pulls back.
there’s a mild grimace on his face, “yeah, go brush your teeth.”
you shove him back on the bed, making him holler with laughter, “i told you!”
“it was still worth it, mila!” he shouts after you.
“fuck you.” you spit.
“with pleasure.” he smiles.
notes: my mom added too much white wine to food she made, so she’s the running inspiration for this. shout out to her!
138 notes
·
View notes
Text
The sounds of the fighting have greatly died down in the past few minutes and Dick still hasn't managed to unlock the door. It's fucking barred from the outside, he's managed to figure that out, and strong hinges too, if it held against his battering.
He got free of the manacles—there was enough sweat to wrench his hands free, even if one wrist is scraped and bleeding and the other has a dislocated thumb—and he managed to get his clothes back on, but this stupid fucking door.
Dick blinks furiously, jaw tight. The entire room is soaked in his scent and he doesn't know if the fact that the smell of heat has overpowered the smell of his emotions is a mercy or not. His fingers are trembling, his breaths are too high, and his entire body is sore in ways he's trying very hard not to think about.
He just needs to get out.
There's a part of him pointing out that it's not that simple, that he's still on a ship in the middle of open ocean, that he has no idea who's attacked the Blockbuster or why, that his situation will not greatly improve outside this small cabin, that he may be locked in here but at least he's alone, but Dick ruthlessly suppresses that voice.
If he thinks too hard about it, he will break, and he didn't get to be one of the youngest fucking captains in the Royal Navy by shattering into tiny pieces at every difficulty.
Dick pounds on the door in frustration—and realizes, too late, that the sounds on the other side of the door have ceased.
Oh fuck.
Dick edges back when he hears scrabbling at the door, grabbing the letter opener off the desk—not a real knife, but it has a sharp edge and Dick needs something—and willing his fingers to stop shaking as the door is unbarred and finally opened.
The people peering inside aren't Desmond's men. Their attire is too colorful to be privateers—one part of Dick relaxes, the other part tenses up.
Corrupt privateers to pirates.
Frying pan. Fire.
Both pirates immediately wrinkle their noses, discreetly coughing at the abrupt influx of concentrated heat scent. Dick hasn't left the cabin in two days.
This should be his opportunity to attack. Strike while they're distracted, and get free. His grip on the letter opener is weak in his less-injured hand, and he tightens it as much as he dares. But on his first step, pain goes lancing up his spine, and by the time he grits his teeth through the spike, the pirates have recovered.
"That's a Navy uniform, isn't it?" one says to the other, slowly grinning.
"A captain's uniform," the other rejoins, eyes tracing the distinctive gold detailing on his collar.
"I thought we already killed the captain of this saltwrecked heap," one narrowed his eyes.
"I'm not the captain of this ship," Dick says tersely, affronted at the very thought.
Both pirates—he can't tell designations, he can't smell anything over the too-syrupy scent of his heat—look at each other and shrug.
"You're still a captain," one pirate says, and she's smirking, "and our captain loves to have fun with pretty omega captains."
The chill that goes down his spine is colder than last time. Sharp and icy with intimate knowledge of what exactly she means. The reasonable part of him points out that he cannot hope to take them on both, and the entire ship after that. The illogical part of him just attacks.
He doesn't want to go back to that, he can't go back to that, he will do anything to avoid spending the rest of his life shackled to a pirate's bed, one day was bad enough. He's a good fighter, he's a great fighter, but he's fighting his lingering post-heat, the stabbing pains between his legs, the bruises all over his body, the sharp, throbbing bites around his neck, and a bleeding wrist.
One of the pirates grabs the hand with the relocated thumb, and the world goes white.
When it comes back, Dick has been disarmed, arms wrenched behind his back, and is being marched out.
The yawning horror is enough to seize the breath from his lungs. The heat scent is a mercy now, to hide the scent of his blinding terror under the cooling scent and smells of sex he hasn't been able to rub off. It's heavy and thick, and more than one pirate coughs or turns away as he's dragged out.
The ship is full of dead men. Dick doesn't recognize all the bodies lying on the deck, but they're all dressed in privateer's uniforms. The pirates seem jubilant and victorious, vastly outnumbering their prey, and Dick realizes why that is when he catches sight of the hulking ship next to the Blockbuster.
He loses his breath. He's seen the Deathstroke too many times to not recognize it, even at night and lit only by the moon. And that means the pirate captain he's being dragged to face is—
"Captain, we found this one in the captain's cabin," one of the two holding him calls out to the silver-haired man supervising the looting, as Dick digs his heels against the deck, the frantic beat of his heart pounding no, please, no.
Captain Slade Wilson of the Deathstroke turns and goes dangerously still when he spots Dick. Dick's last, desperate hope that maybe he's too disheveled to be recognizable dies an ignoble death at Slade's slow smile.
"Captain Grayson," Slade says, voice dropping to a more predatory tone. "What a pleasant surprise."
Of all the pirate ships and all the pirate captains, did it have to be this one?
"What brings you here?" Slade asks, stalking closer. Dick automatically presses back, but there's nowhere to go, his captors' grips are too tight. "Supervising this ship? Watching over your interests? I have to say, I thought you were too straitlaced for smuggling."
Dick manages to suck in a breath, enough to say, as evenly as he can manage it, "I don't answer to pirates." His voice is hoarse but at least it doesn't crack.
"You're at the mercy of my crew, Captain Grayson," Slade smirks. "We'll get you to answer one way or another." He steps closer, until he's in Dick's personal space, and takes a deliberate sniff. "Or was this a tryst, hmm? Is that why you don't want to answer? Are you ashamed?"
The words are pointed and sharp and Dick's armor has already been stripped. He can feel each one sink in.
"Fuck you," he spits as loudly as he can to cover up the tremor in his tone. His captors take offense to the tone and Dick is forced down with an angry snarl, hitting the deck on his knees with a lance of pain that goes straight through him. Dick can't suppress the way he arches, face twisted around a mostly silent scream.
When the flare of agony recedes, he's trembling, taking in ragged breaths and trying not to shiver. It's a grim reminder of what awaits.
Dick sets his jaw and tries his best to glare as Slade crouches, still looming over him. He jerks back—first a flinch and then more desperate—as Slade reaches out, but between the pirates holding his arms and the deck below his knees, there's nowhere to twist or turn as Slade grabs his collar.
The alpha rips the cloth down with barely a thought, leaning in with an inscrutable expression as he grips Dick's neck in a powerful hand, and Dick is too weak to fight the grip. Slade tightens the grasp to bare Dick's neck and Dick just squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the bite.
He knows what it feels like. He knows how his limbs will get weak and trembly, how the world will narrow down to the alpha who bit him, how the submission will steal away any chance he has of fighting back. How it will leave him all too aware of what's happening to his body.
Dick blinks up at the starry night sky, everything blurry, and waits. And waits. And waits.
He can feel Slade's hot breaths against his collarbone, igniting fresh throbbing in the bites that Desmond laid down, can feel the alpha's firm, inescapable grip tight against Dick's throat, can feel the nose pressed against his skin.
Can hear Slade breathing deeply. Inhaling deeply.
The grip shifts, tilting Dick's head the opposite direction, and he tenses again, but Slade doesn't bite down on this side either. He's just....sniffing Dick. Scenting him. Deeply, past the overpowering smell of heat and sex.
Dick feels dizzy when Slade releases him.
"Let him go," the alpha growls, and this close, Dick can smell the rage in his scent. His heat scent is getting weaker, tugged away by the wind, and Slade's overpowering fury is acrid and thick. The pirates immediately obey their captain, and Dick's arms are released.
Dick doesn't dare to wrap his arms around himself despite how much he wants to, doesn't dare to reveal that much weakness in a pack of sharks, but he can't help the slow exhale when the burning flare of Slade's attention moves off him and onto his guards. "Where exactly did you find him?" Slade growls, and Dick winces at the deep alpha timbre to his tone.
"In the captain's cabin," one of them answers, "It was barred from the outside. We heard pounding on the door and opened it. And he had this." Slade reaches up and takes the—letter opener, spinning it between his fingers with a frown.
Dick blinks in surprise when Slade offers it back to him. He doesn't understand. Is this—does Slade want him to fight? Dick might ordinarily be good enough to give him a fight, right now he's in no state for a challenge. He can't even sit without feeling the throbbing ache inside of him, much less attack. But being armed is better than weaponless and Dick reaches out to take the blade.
Slade catches his wrist. Dick freezes, but Slade's attention is on the cloth wrapped around his wrist, and the pirate captain gently tugs it free to reveal the scrape beneath it. Dick winces at the sight—he's all but flayed off a patch of skin below his thumb, and there are cuts extended up the back of his hand.
The alpha makes a low, warning rumble, and Dick barely clamps down on the appeasing keen. He's too raw to be calm with the full force of an angry alpha in his space—he's been attacked and held captive and assaulted and the violations have stripped him bare. The threads of defiance he's clinging to are slipping out of his grasp.
There's a part of him—a small part, growing ever larger and ever louder—that just wants to submit and make it all stop.
“Take him to my cabin,” Slade demands after he straightens up, anger unfurling hot and thick, and Dick is too busy trying to breathe in the presence of overpowering rage to register his words. Until he’s hauled up to his feet and pushed towards the boarding plank.
Something inside him goes cold, like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Perhaps he should be grateful that Slade’s taking him to his cabin. Desmond told Dick he’d throw him to the crew once his heat was over, and Dick has no illusions about his ability to survive that.
Dick keeps a firm grip on the letter opener and doesn’t struggle against his captors. He only has one solid chance, and he can’t waste it here. He forces himself to keep breathing and keep moving, even when his feet touch the deck of the Deathstroke.
69 notes
·
View notes
Note
since we agreed to be wingmen, may i please request some relationship HCs for my pretty boy, Sol? thank you, ILY ♡ i really appreciate you!!
Insatiable (Sol x MC/Reader - Relationship HCs)
Anon, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. <33
I'm feeding you all well tonight. >:]
TW: Couple mentions of being railed but that's about it.
- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer
Insatiable: incapable of being satisfied : quenchless. had an insatiable desire for wealth.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sol had dreamed of being with you for years.
So when, after spending a long time cultivating the perfect words and personality, he would strike.
When you sat on his lap in the library, he was taking his all to not get rock-hard right then and there. Frankly, he was on the verge of fainting from how flushed he felt.
He can't wait for when he can have you on him every day and not just on his lap.
Over the course of him slowly developing a friendship with you, along with sabotaging Crowe behind the scenes, he learns everything about you. He doesn't have to rummage through old files or photos, he has you! In the flesh!
And he will use all that info to his advantage.
Gets you gifts all the time, small things he claims to have 'reminded him of you'.
Eventually asks you out after he takes you to a place with your favourite food.
You oblige, of course. How can you not? He's a delusional maniac who needs emerge- been an awesome friend to you! Plus he's hot.
When in a relationship with you, he is probably gonna show up at your residence (with permission this time!!!).
Will help you study whenever you ask for it and is actually excellent at teaching things to you.
Alas some of you choose to do other forms of exploring during that time smh
Will hold your hand if you allow it (he refuses to do anyth- a lot of things without your consent) iykyk
When in private? This man is all over and sometimes even inside you.
He's nibbling, suckling, caressing, biting, holding, hugging, kissing, railing you as much as possible.
With consent, of course.
He'd never do anything while you were, say, asleep. That'd be so naughty of him.
And he's a good boy for you, is he not?
He'll bark for you.
Sol will also cook for you. You don't have a choice, he wants to do this for you (he's good at it as well). Although...you do sometimes get weirdly sleepy after dinner.
If you get harassed by someone? They're going fucking missing.
If someone hits on you? Dead.
Someone hits you? Tortured, dead, mutilated.
Sol's a petty guy.
But is it so wrong to want his angel all to himself?
Due to the fact he's huge that's what she said and strong af, he def is the type to pick you up and take you places if you're too lazy or sore to walk, or to get something off of a high shelf.
Is 110% made for domesticity, this guy will do all the housework, also gives 'Acts of Service' vibes. (Yes I know he's all 5 but so what)
He also blushes really easily, so teasing him is an awesome form of entertainment...just. Try not to do it on the day before an event or school day.
Will bury his face into yours as much as he can, your scent calms him down.
Also will sleep however and wherever you want, he was born to be yours and to oblige every word that comes out of your gorgeous little mouth. <333
#the kid at the back#reminder that geo is superior#tkatb vn#tkatb#tkatb x reader#sol brugmansia#solivan brugmansia#sol brugmansia x reader#tkatb sol#sol x reader#took me about a month but we have a sol request yayyyy
118 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dancing With Gojo Satoru
pairings: satoru gojo x f! reader
warnings: none!
this is pure fluff. tooth rotting fluff. I've never been so motivated to write something and now I have a lot more motivation to write, so I'll be taking requests! I'm a lot more active again so I'll also be happy to answer any questions too. Feedback is appreciated!
Enjoy :)
Everyone knows Gojo is a good dancer. He’s literally good at anything he does. But when it comes to dancing, Satoru favors when it’s just you two.
Sure, when you go to the club with your friends he has a good time. I mean, come on, he gets to keep his hands on you all night. There will be no doubts that he is yours and you are his. He enjoys the way your body leans against his all night and how your hands will run up and down his chest or your arms wrapped around his neck.
In fact he loves those nights.
But Gojo loves to dance when it’s you two alone in your shared apartment.
The first time you danced alone with Satoru was in the kitchen. It was sometime after 9pm and you both wanted to make cookies. You decided to put on a playlist of high energy songs to bounce around and sing to while baking.
The dough was in a ball, ready to be rolled out, when “Everytime We Touch” by Cascada had come on. Satoru was putting some dishes in the sink while you prepared the dough on the counter. The chorus of the song had begun and you turned to Satoru, holding the rolling pin as a microphone.
“CAUSE EVERYTIME WE TOUCH I GET THIS FEELING!”
Satoru basically jumped out of his pajama pants, but turned to you and couldn’t hold back his smile even if he wanted to.
“AND EVERYTIME WE KISS I SWEAR I COULD FLY!” you continued.
Satoru quickly grabbed the whisk he had yet to put in the sink for his impromptu microphone and joined you.
“CAN’T YOU FEEL MY HEART BEAT FAST! I WANT THIS TO LAST!”
You dramatically pointed at Satoru while singing the last line of the chorus, “NEED YOU BY MY SIDE!”
You two continued to dramatically perform the rest of the song and a few that followed. Jumping around the kitchen, striking silly poses, and doing goofy dances. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. And Satoru swore he had never seen anything more beautiful than that sight.
It didn’t matter that the next song that played was “Last Friday Night”. Satoru looked at you and smiled a smile that said “you are my one,” and reached a hand out to you.
“May I have this dance?”
Your smile softened from one of excitement to one of adoration. You placed your hand in his.
“You may.”
You both put your “microphones” back on the counter. He placed his now free hand on your waist, and you placed yours on his shoulder.
To any outsider looking in, it would look a little silly to be dancing like this in your pajamas at almost 10pm in your kitchen. But no one could deny the pure love and affection shared between the two of you. It’s as if the rest of the world faded away, and all that was left was the two of you dancing in that kitchen.
Satoru had begun to spin and dip you, making you laugh all over again. He put you in a dip and held you there for a moment, speaking softly, “You really are so beautiful, you know,” before bringing you back up. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks.
“Says the handsome gentleman I get to call my boyfriend.”
He spun you out before pulling you back into a sweetheart hold. He melted from there, wrapping his hands around your waist and dropping his chin to your shoulder. You placed your hands over his.
“I love you so much,” he whispered to you.
You leaned your head against his. “I love you, too.”
He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled into your neck. You gently stroked your thumb against his hand.
“You make me so happy.”
You leaned into his touch a little further. You grabbed his left hand and brought the back of it to your mouth, kissing his left ring finger.
“I’m glad.”
The two of you stood there for a few minutes just enjoying each other’s embrace before you suggested finishing the cookies. Satoru kissed your cheek and spun you back out. He then changed the playlist to one of softer songs you guys could sing to each other.
The second time you danced alone with Satoru was in your bedroom before a dinner party with your friends. You stood in front of a full length mirror. You were wearing a slim black dress with a leg slit, neck and ears adorned with plenty of expensive rocks Satoru felt the need to spoil you with. Satoru walked up from behind you, dressed in a black suit with a silver watch to match your jewelry. He put his hands on your waist and kissed the side of your neck before placing his chin on your exposed shoulder. He made eye contact with you in the mirror. He whispered in your ear.
“Mmm, tu es si belle mon amour.”
A tingle shivered down your spine. You smiled at him through the mirror.
“What did I say about speaking French?”
Satoru’s hands began to roam your body, trying to feel every curve as if to memorize it (like he hasn’t already). He mumbled into your shoulder, “That I should do it more often.”
You rolled your eyes, but didn’t let the smile fall from your lips. “To not do it until we get back from our plans.”
“Oh, but baby,” Satoru reached around to the outside of your left thigh, “it’s not my fault you get so hot and bothered by it.” Satoru lifted your leg and spun you to face him. He dipped you backwards, your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. He leaned closer to your face. Sultry, he whispered, “c’est ton problème.”
You let your eyes close and your head fall back before he brought you back up to your feet. Your eyes met his, a smirk lingering across his face. He lifts the arm wrapped around your waist and guides your arm to his shoulder before returning his arm to your waist. He interlaces your fingers with the other.
“danse avec moi, ma chérie?”
You squeezed his hand in yours and smiled sweetly at your boyfriend. Matching his tone, you replied, “bien sûr, mon ange.”
Satoru began to sway the two of you away from the mirror. He held you close this time, never letting you stray too far. While there was no music playing, the two of you shared a rhythm easily, never missing a step. He would spin you under his arm and bring you right back into his chest. He’d lower you into a dip and kiss you every time. Spin. Kiss. Dip. Kiss. The cycle on repeat between every few steps. Each kiss became longer and more passionate.
He dipped you low and attached his lips to yours. Your hands left his neck to find solace on the back of his head. Satoru tried to return upright but you kept him in his place. One hand traveling down to his chest and lingering there as you allowed him to pull you both up, lips detaching only for a quick breath before the two of you were chasing each other's lips.
You began to walk Satoru backwards, his hands holding onto your waist. You pushed him back onto your shared bed.
You were late to the dinner party that night.
The third time you danced alone with Satoru was in your shared bathroom one quiet Saturday morning. You had woken up at 8. You blearily looked at your boyfriend in the morning light. His hair always falls softly across his face and pillow. The way the sun kisses his cheeks. The way he always had an arm wrapped around you, protecting you even in slumber. You thought nothing of this world could compete with the beauty that is Gojo Satoru peacefully sleeping in the morning sun.
You reached a hand up and caressed his cheek with the back of your index finger. A featherlight touch. You moved your hand up to move the hair away from his eyes. Satoru didn’t move at all.
“You can hold me,” he mumbled. Eyes still closed.
He didn’t have to specify. He knew that in the morning, before you started your day, you loved to run your hands through his hair and hold his head in your hands. It was your way of making sure you gave him at least one physical show of affection each day. There were rough days where you or he would come home late from missions or were simply so tired you’d pass out immediately after entering the door. You were sure he knew you loved him every day, but you want to make sure he feels that love every day. So you make sure before you guys get up or before you leave for work that you get to run your hands through his hair and hold him. Sometimes you add a kiss. Most of the time you add a kiss. 99% of the time you add a kiss.
So you ran your hand through his hair and placed your hand at the nape of his neck. You leaned forward and Satoru met you halfway, encouraging you to place your lips on his forehead.
You leaned back and made eye contact with Satoru. You both shared a soft smile. He leaned forward this time and you shared a loving kiss. It’s as if his lips were infused with ambrosia and you needed a taste to survive. You both separated, but didn’t move far. Your foreheads were touching and Satoru ran a hand up and down your arm.
Softly, in the quiet morning he asked, “Are you ready to get up?”
You softly nod. The two of you begin to slowly sit up and get up from the bed. You made your way to the bathroom as Satoru began making the bed. It’s your routine. You shower first. While you shower, Satoru makes the bed and goes around the apartment opening the curtains and blinds to allow natural sunlight to flow in, and starts a load of laundry. You guys had planned for this day to be a movie day, so he also arranged the living room couch to the bed-like set up it could be, throwing a few extra pillows and blankets on it as well. When it was his turn to shower, you started the coffee pot and picked out the matching loungewear you guys would be wearing. You put yours on and placed his on the bed. Then you began your skin care routine. Despite his perfect skin, Gojo did nothing to make it that way. Annoying as it is.
You were in the last steps of your routine when Satoru turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He dried himself off with his towel before wrapping it around his waist. He made his way past you, quickly placing a kiss on your temple as he moved towards the bedroom.
When he walked back in you moved on to brushing your teeth. He once again pecked your forehead in passing. He stopped in front of his sink and began brushing his teeth as well.
It was something so simple. The two of you brushing your teeth together in the morning. Your hair still wet from the shower and Satoru’s normally fluffy hair matted against his head and neck. It was hot but that’s not what had you swooning. It was the thought of doing this for the rest of your life. Sure, you’ve done this everyday for the past five years but that’s not enough. You want forever. You need forever with Satoru.
You don’t know how to explain it. Maybe it’s the domesticity of the moment. Or how right it feels to go through life side by side with each other. Or the way he knows you and you know him. The way the world, with all its cruel nature, felt safer and lighter with him in it.
Or maybe it was the way he brushed his teeth.
You simply couldn’t explain it.
All you know is you both finished brushing your teeth and you put yourself in his arms. By habit he had wrapped you in them. You had your arms around his waist and your head on his chest. He looked at your face in the mirror. A subtle smile rested on your lips.
“What’s up, baby?”
You looked up at him.
“Will you dance with me?”
He smiled back, a man totally head over heels, and tucked some of your hair behind your ear.
“I’ll do anything you ask of me.”
He began to sway you in the embrace you guys shared. It wasn’t big and flashy like the past times. There was no flair. There were no big steps that took you across the bathroom and back. If anything it resembled a school dance with a crowded dance floor that left little room for movement. Only the thing crowding you guys this time wasn’t people, but the love you two held for each other. As if you could feel it in the air, surrounding you.
There were no prying eyes. And this dance was for no one but the two of you.
And if anyone did see, they would most definitely call it boring.
But it was one of your favorites.
Your head remained on Satoru’s chest, your eyes closed and your smile never fading. Satoru’s eyes never left your face in the mirror. His smile never faltered.
He leaned his head down ever so slightly. He whispered, “Spin?”
You looked up at him, smile never moving. You nodded and indulged in a spin for him. Immediately finding your place against his chest once more.
His smile grew wider, if possible.
His hands moved to wrap your figure. One across your back, the other behind your head. He pulled you into a passionate embrace. You tightly squeezed back.
“You ready for us to make breakfast?”
You let out a sigh of content. He could feel your smile as you replied, “Yeah.”
“Good.”
Before you could do anything, you let out a yelp as Satoru had you lifted over his shoulder and carried you out of the bathroom.
“Satoru!”
He laughed as you hit his back while he walked.
“Gojo Satoru put me down!”
As he entered the kitchen he took you off his shoulder and placed you gently on the ground. You crossed your arms and glared up at him. He only smirked back.
“Come on, sweetheart. I know you love it.”
You held his eye contact. “No, I don’t .”
He shook his head slightly, “You can’t lie to me, Y/N.” He made his way to the fridge.
You held your ground, “I don’t like when you manhandle me.”
Satoru smirked at you over his shoulder.
“That’s not what you said last night.”
“SATORU!”
The fourth time you and Satoru danced alone was after binge watching Bridgerton. The two of you dressed as regal as the characters in the show - Satoru bare chested and adorning cozy sweatpants, and you in one of his hoodies and shorts. You guys were ready for the ball.
You were cuddled up, head resting on Satoru’s chest with his arm snug around your waist, the other behind his head. You looked up at him as he rested his head on the back of the couch.
“Would you buy me a dress like the ones they wear in the show?”
He didn’t move but responded, “Only if I get to have one of the fancy suits.”
You sat up. “Wait. Really?” Your face dressed in disbelief.
He moved his eyes to your face and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, obviously.”
You chuckled and shook your head, then stood from the couch. “Come on.”
“What?”
You rolled your eyes and motioned for him to stand. “Get up!”
“Why?”
“Oh come on.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “Okay, okay,” he caved, “What are we doing?”
You smiled up at him.
“Dancing like we’re at one of those balls, of course.”
He returned that sweet smile tenfold. His hands at his sides, he bowed his head. “Of course, my lady.”
The two of you decided to learn one of the dances from the show, ultimately deciding on Kate and Anthony’s dance to “Wrecking Ball.”
You giggled at first and Satoru smiled down at you, but you quickly went into concentration mode. Whenever you learned a dance you really got into it. And Satoru let you correct him and did whatever you told him to do. He just wanted to make you happy.
Learning the first move was simple. Standing apart, facing each other, you curtsy as he bows. You reach your arms out and connect your hands. He steps forward as you step back. Then you step forward as he steps back. A step to your right. Back to your left. Another step to your left.
You and Satoru practiced the step sequence a few times with the music to make sure you had it down before moving onto the spin.
The two of you moved on to the first spin. First practicing in place. You spin under your arms, leaving your right arm lifted with his right. Your left arms moving behind your back. Once you felt the two of you had it smooth, you moved onto stepping into the spin.
It felt natural for the two of you to be dancing like this. As if a pair of lovers from the regency period had been reincarnated as the two of you in the modern day. For the two of you, learning the dance and filling in the steps the camera didn’t catch in the show came as naturally as breathing. As if you’ve danced this dance before.
You two had run through the full dance a few times now. Satoru is positive you both know it by now, but you can’t seem to keep your eyes off the TV screen to make sure the moves are correct.
At the same time as Anthony Bridgerton, Satoru whispered, “Just keep looking at me.”
Your body naturally followed the moves while your head snapped back to him. With pure adoration in his eyes, he smiled at you. After your spin and a quick choreographed pause in the dance, once again with Anthony Bridgerton, he whispered.
“No one else matters.”
A faint smile formed on your lips. You two easily went into the next steps, just as Satoru knew you would.
As you continued the dance, you grew more confident in your steps. Your smile grows with each move. It must be contagious because as your smile grows wider, Satoru follows suit. He swears the universe was created simply for this moment to occur.
The dance ended. You two stared at each other smiling. Fondness ever present.
“Do you think we could add a few moves from this to our first dance when we get married?” you asked him.
“Anything my lady wants, she will get.” He reached over and reset the TV to the beginning of the dance. He stood tall in front of you again, a smirk tugged at his lips. “So we better keep practicing.”
Your smile found your lips once more. You two reset to your starting places, curtsied and bowed, and began the dance again.
Both yours and Satoru’s favorite time you danced alone was in front of your family and friends at your wedding reception.
Sure, physically you were surrounded by people, but it felt as if no one was in the room with the two of you. It felt like you were back in your kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. The private dance studio of your shared apartment.
However, you and Satoru moved alone in the center of the dance floor. You truly felt like you were a princess marrying her prince. You wore a ball gown inspired wedding dress (that you would change out of and into another elegant dress but one simpler to move in after the dance, speeches, and cake cutting) while Satoru wore a navy blue suit embroidered with a subtle floral pattern also in navy. You don’t know if you’ve ever smiled so passionately in your life than during this dance with your now-husband.
Satoru had more than complied with your requests to take some moves from the Bridgerton dance and happily learned a whole ballroom routine with you. You were nervous when you first asked him if he would be interested in taking a class to get first dance ideas. Satoru crushed all your nervousness in a millisecond by getting super excited and picking you up and spinning you around as you laughed. After the class you both enjoyed it so much and felt like it captured your love for each other beautifully and found a choreographer to help make the dance.
The two of you also go to weekly dance classes now.
Now the two of you command every eye in the room. Yet yours are only held by Satoru’s, and his held by yours. It didn’t matter how many eyes were on the two of you, that moment was yours and Satoru’s alone.
If the passion in your graceful steps, careful arm movements, and elegant dips and spins couldn’t announce the infatuation the both of you shared for one another, the intense eye contact and subconscious smiles that lasted throughout the entire dance informed the universe that these two souls were destined to be intertwined.
As you went into a move taken from the Bridgerton dance the two of you learned, Satoru tilted his head ever so slightly. You didn’t think his eyes could soften anymore than they already had, but Satoru was a man in love, and he whispered.
“No one else matters.”
It was as if he lit a fire in you. Your dance continued with the same choreography, yet your smiles grew into smirks of confidence. The two of you had more power in each of your steps. A visual representation of your relationship as your love grew stronger each day you chose each other day after day for years.
This dance was not for your parents, or friends, or extended family. This was a dance for you and Satoru.
Satoru didn’t notice his mother smiling at a nearby table or Suguru filming the dance from the bridal party table. All he saw was his beautiful wife in front of him, smiling the brightest he’s ever seen. And when you laugh as he dips you further than rehearsed, he swears he would submerge himself in it if he could.
And you didn’t notice the flower girl cooing to Yuki about how she wants to be a princess like you or your father dabbing his eyes next to your mother. All you saw was the most amazing husband the universe could have gifted you with. His blue eyes rival the most beautiful waters and his passion brighter than any star in the night sky.
As the dance came to an end, you stood before Satoru. He stood before you. Your hands connected.
The music faded.
He pulled you softly towards him, an arm wrapping around your waist. The other softly cupped your cheek. Your hands move to frame his face.
Satoru leaned forward and captured your lips in a tender kiss.
You connect like puzzle pieces made for each other.
Like lovers from past centuries reincarnated, bound to find each other every time.
Devoted dance partners in every life.
#yes i did practice the bridgerton dance while i wrote the scene to feel as accurate as possible#this is the first fic ive actually finished#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jjk#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#geto suguru#shoko ieiri#nanami kento#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#gojo fanfic
118 notes
·
View notes
Text
SAHSRAU IDEA
WARNING:Religious themes, cult themes, semi existencisl crisis, Boothill leaks(backstory)
Now listen ever since Boothill leaks dropped of his backstory i hated the IPC, and then i went on to learn more about them and damn. If Sahsr were real theyd be dead by now.
Like i take my hatred seriously, i just started Topaz's quest and i was nitpicking the most humbling options and the ones that were most pessimistic towards IPC, i decided to not pull ANY IPC CHARACTER, Topaz, Aventurine, Jade, Im not pulling any of them, f the shield and f the treasure, and my love for Boothill is visible, hes the reason i redownloaded (i was still very much in the tutorial part) and kept the game this time, and while my saving could have been bigger(i got a bit greedy on standard pulls) their at 110 with no pity on both character and weapon banner, i am getting that mf
And thew self aware lenses the Astral express is debating, the IPC arent perfect, yes, but they have friends there, they DID help places, but their grace refused to have anything even remotely positive towards them, should they...cut off all ties? If it pleases their grace maybe, and they cant deny how valid your concerns are, they are bad people, they have disapointed their grace, in fact youd be happy if they got wiped wouldnt you? No, youd want them alive. To torture them, and then... For their last breath will serve as a suficient offering
The IPC meanwhile are sweating bullets, some of them are aware of how rotten they are, some genuanly believe they are good, Topaz unfortunatly falls into the second category, she and Numpy are reaching high and low for only the best treasure for your offerings, pleading, begging you to forgive their actions, and maybe you could, if she felt and never looked back, burning away what was left, Aventurine's hands better off being choped off, its vibrating from panic, hes pacing back and forth, chewing on his glowes, can he even leave if he wanted to? who would he turn to? what would he do then? He may have been blessed by Mama Fengu but you... You are anything else, he doesnt like the IPC either but he knows that if you could, youd travel back in time and give him the coldest responses, and death threats behind that beautiful, safe screen. Jade, Miss Jade, Powerful and in control Jade, knew she was the most screwed from the three, it was no secret, what she did to Aventurine, her slaves, they held their usual expressions but she knew they were smilling on the inside, awaiting your rescuse from her hands, she knows turning over a new lief wasnt an option, youd just laugh at the idea she could reddem what she did, all she can do is call Diamond and seek a solution, what else is there
Boothill, Ive never seen him happier, he cant wait for hes release, for you to come pick him up, get him a brand new gun, give him all those thingamagics to make him stronger, to better make you happy, you care so much about him, hes your favorite, he hopes youll be happy w ith his trial and still choose him, hell do his best there! Oh he can already hear and see it all when the prophecy comes true, for when that stupid, cage breaks.... The wedding bells... The little rascals.... He already has a few names planned! Isnt he so great?
#sahsrau#honkai star rail#hsr boothill#boothill x reader#boothill#the IPC#Sahsrau boothill#yandere hsr#yandere boothill
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
05/19/2024 Daily OFMD Recap
TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte/Emmy ; Emmy Considerations; New/Old Press Photos; Save OFMD Crew Fuckery; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes; Daily Darby /Tonight's Taika
== Rhys Darby ==
Rhys decided that he wanted to destroy all our psyche's today so he posted a video on tiktok of him in a hottub. Since I can only have one video per tumblr, here's a link to the lovely @kiwistede's tumblr where they have the full video! Thanks luv!
== Taika Waititi ==
Just Taika working out in Japan and happened to run into a famous Rugby Player!
== New/Old Press Photos ==
Okay so awesome news! Our dear friend @ JimJim531969 happened upon some Press Photos whilst looking for more Rhys Content, and they have found a treasure trove of awesomeness! It's extremely high def, and there are some I know I've never seen before. Check them out below. TY JIM!!!
Visit Foxtel Group's Box Account Season 1 is extremely large, so just fyi it'll take a while to download.
== Samba Schutte / Emmy Material ==
Samba posted this picture on his instagram stories, spotlighting that Max is still pushing OFMD in their Emmy Promotional material.
Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram Story
Annnnnnnd because of this, several of the crew are working on trying to promote OFMD and Rhys specifically on socials to maybe get them an Emmy Nomination!
@mon-ster-chen was kind enough to share several different Emmy promo pics that you're welcome to share around! Please visit their blog here for more info!
Source: @mon-ster-chen's Tumblr
== Save OFMD Crew ==
Hey European Crew!! Looks like On May 21, Max starts launching in different parts of Europe. The SaveOFMD Crew is rallying the troops to do some polite menacing/participate in a fuckery! Visit their posts on any of the platforms to learn more.
Source: SaveOFMD's Tumblr
== Fan Spotlight ==
= Cast Cards =
More cast cards tonight by our lovely @melvisik! First, another of the piano workers in The Gentle Pirate's "Great Death Fuckery", and Another English sailor, one of Badminton's crew!
Source: @melvisik's Twitter!
= OFMD Colouring Page =
More colouring pages! Thank you so much @patchworkpiratebear!
Source: PatchworkPirateBear's Tumblr
== MerMay ==
= GooGooGoJob =
So I'm sure many of you have have seen some of @googoogojob's work around tumblr before. They have been posting for a long time, but they have been doing some really cool stuff for MerMay and I wanted to highlight some of them. They have such a cool and unique style, and their use of lighting and colors always blows my mind. I would also like to mention-- they also love comments and interaction so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE go send them some love if you enjoy their work!
Day 15: Blind Man's Cove
Day 14: Orange
Day 10: Where's the Fucking Loot?
Day 8: Jeff's Inn by the Sea
Day 6: Seabird
Some other new spotlights tonight:
== LibRoseITM==
Another one of our talented crewmates, @libroseitm is new in the fan spotlight tonight for one of their MerMay submissions. They always have such a fun and colorful style, and I'm loving the different style animals that they and everyone is basing their mermen on! Absolutely gorgeous!
Source: LibRoseITM Twitter
== Love Notes ==
Hey lovelies, I hope the end of your weekend treated you well. We've got some exciting stuff out there tonight. I hope you spend lots of hours pouring through the new/old press material. It's brought me and so many others a lot of joy-- I hope you feel it too!
I'm going to make it a quick one tonight because I am very very tired.
I just wanted to send out a quick reminder lovelies that nothing is static, permanent or set in stone. One of the things that OFMD taught us is that we can change our circumstances for the better.
We can change, and we can grow, and we can better ourselves in the situations we deal with every day . Sometimes it's not easy, and sometimes it's not possible right away, but we can find ways to better ourselves and our lives in different ways, no matter how big or how small.
Don't give up lovelies. There's always a chance at a better tomorrow. Even if that tomorrow is a month or a year from now.
I'm rooting for you, so is the rest of your crew. You got this <3
== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==
Tonight's theme is, yummy I think. Idk, I'm tired. You can tell me.
Darby Gif by the awesome @kiwistede / and Taika Gif Courtesy of the Fantastical @ofmd-ann
#ofmd daily recap#ofmd#our flag means death#rhys darby#taika waititi#save ofmd#samba schutte#emmys#saveofmd#adopt our crew#longliveofmd
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
Taylor & Travis Timeline
May 2024 - Part 2
May 16 - According to ET (x) Date not confirmed.
The duo traveled via boat to have dinner at Locanda La Tirlindana Restaurant. While on their way to the popular eatery, Swift and Kelce were photographed kissing.
May 17 - Taylor flies to Sweden, Travis flies to KC
ET reveal very interesting article that appears to be warming up the public to the idea that Taylor and Travis are soon to be (or as most swifties believe already are) engaged! (x)
According to ET,
Excitement over a potential engagement between Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce has been brewing and according to ET's source, a proposal might be on the horizon. The source tells ET, "Taylor and Travis are doing amazing, and their loved ones see an engagement coming sooner than later. They make a great match and there's no question about that."
The Eras Tour, Friends Arena, Stockholm, Sweden N1
I Think He Knows x Gorgeous (Travis' version) (guitar), Peter (piano)
May 18 - Kelce Jam (x) Kansas City.
The Eras Tour, Friends Arena, Stockholm, Sweden N2
Guilty as Sin (guitar) & Say Don't Go x Welcome to New York x Clean (piano)
Access Hollywood ask Travis what his favourite era is (x)
“Oh, I’m a big ‘1989’ era, but I’m not going to lie I might be a little biased towards ‘The Tortured Poets Department,’ just little bit,”
Travis is also asked what Taylor Swift song he'd include in Kelce Jam?
"Oh, that's a good one. Golly, So High School might be the only one that's just jumping into my mind right now. I think everyone could get fired up for that one. There are so many. The Man is my niece's favourite, so we can always go with The Man."
E! online. (x)
After the Kansas City Chiefs tight end enjoyed a romantic trip to Italy with girlfriend Taylor Swift, he couldn't help but rave about the experience—especially when it came to the "unbelievable" food. As he told reporters on the red carpet at his Kelce Jam concert in Kansas on May 18, his favorite meal during the getaway was a butter ravioli dish, which he called "amazing."
Taylor and Travis' vacation—which included a sweet boat ride in Lake Como—clearly left an impression on the NFL star, who noted that the locale was "beautiful."
He added, "It's the best food and the best views in the world."
But as for Travis' favorite part of his entire Europe trip? That would be his experience at Taylor's Eras Tour concert in Paris on May 12 alongside Bradley Cooper and Gigi Hadid.
"Taylor's shows are unbelievable," he told reporters. "If you haven't been to them, you gotta try them."
And while Taylor's latest stop in Stockholm, Sweden, meant she wasn't able to attend Kelce Jam, the Grammy winner was able to show her support in other ways, according to Travis. He recalled that she told him to "go out and have fun."
"She wishes she was here, I know that," he shared on the red carpet, "but she's got a lot of people she's performing for."
May 19 - The Eras Tour, Friends Arena, Stockholm, Sweden N3
May 24, 25 - TheEars Tour, Estadio Da Luz, Lisbon, Portugal
May 29, 30 - The Eras Tour, Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, Madrid, Spain
June 2024
June 2, 3 - The Eras Tour, Groupama Stadium, Lyon France
June 7, 8, 9 - The Eras Tour, Scottish Gas Murrayfield Stadium, Edinburgh, UK
June 9 - American Music Awards 2024
June 11, 12, 13 - Chiefs training camp
June 13, 14, 15 - The Eras Tour, Anfield Stadium, Liverpool, UK
June 17, 18, 19 - Tight End University
June 18 - The Eras Tour, Principality Stadium, Cardiff, UK
June 21, 22, 23 - The Ears Tour, Wembley Stadium, London UK
June 28, 29, 30 - The Eras Tour, Aviva Stadium, Dublin, Ireland
July 2024
July 4, 5, 6 - The Eras Tour, Johan Cruijff Arena, Amsterdam, Netherlands
July 9, 10 - The Eras Tour, Station Letzigrund, Zurich, Switzerland
July 13, 14 - The Eras Tour, San Siro Stadium, Milan Italy
July 17, 18, 19 - The Eras Tour, Veltins-Arena, Gelsenkirchen, Germany
July 23, 24 - The Eras Tour, Volksparkstadion, Hamburg, Germany
July 27, 28 - The Eras Tour, Olympiastadion, Munich, Germany
August 2024
August 1, 2, 3 - The Eras Tour, PGE Narodowy, Warsaw, Poland
August 8, 9, 10 - The Eras Tour, Ernst-Happel-Stadion, Vienna, Austria
August 10 - Chiefs v Jaguars, NFL preseason
August 15, 16, 17, 19, 20 - The Eras Tour, Wembley Stadium, London, UK
August 17 - Chiefs v Lions, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO. NFL preseason
August 22 - Chiefs v Bears, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO, NFL preseason
September 2024
September 5 - NFL 2024-25 season kickoff. Chiefs v Baltimore Ravens, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
September 15 - Chiefs v Bengal Tigers, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
September 22 - Chiefs v Falcons,
September 29 - Chiefs v Chargers,
October 2024
October 5 - Travis Kelce's 35th birthday
October 7 - Chiefs v Saints, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
October 12 - Chiefs BYE week
October 18, 19, 20 - The Eras Tour, Hard Rock Stadium, Miami, FL
October 20 - Chiefs v SF 49ers
October 26, 27 - The Eras tour, Caesars Superdome, New Orleans, LA
October 27 - Chiefs v Raiders
November 2024
November 1, 2, 3 - The Eras Tour, Lucas Oil Stadium, Indianapolis, IN
November 4 - Chiefs v Buccaneers, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
November 10 - Chiefs v Broncos, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
November 14, 15, 16 - The Eras Tour, Rogers Centre, Toronto, ON
November 17 - Chiefs v Bills
November 21, 22, 23 - The Eras Tour, Rogers Centre, Toronto, ON
November 24 - Chiefs v Panthers
November 29 - Chiefs v Raiders, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
December 2024
December 6, 7, 8 - The Eras Tour , BC Place, Vancouver, British Columbia
December 8 - Chiefs v Chargers, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
December 13 - Taylor Swift's 35th birthday
December 15 - Chiefs v Browns
December 21 - Chiefs v Texans, Arrowhead Stadium, Kansas City, MO
December 25 - Christmas Day. Chiefs v Steelers
2025
Jan 4/5 - Chiefs v Broncos
Go to previous update -> May part 1
Go to next update -> TBC
Return to the timeline
#taylor swift#travis kelce#traylor#taylor and travis#taylor swift and travis kelce#87 and 89#killatrav#seemingly ranch#Taylor & travis timeline#tayvis#T&T#87 + 13 = 100#timeline#TnT#swelce#travlor#1989#87#13#Tay & Trav#chiefs#kansas city chiefs#chiefs kingdom#the eras tour#love story#TTPD#The Tortured Poets Department#engagement#engagement rumours
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wonder sometimes what the L&Co crew did after they aged out of having the sight. Obviously Lucy makes some mention of them helping DEPRAC clear the other side and you can help with that even w/o sight thanks to the Orpheus society, but I don’t imagine they did that forever or even full time.
I’ve actually thought a LOT about what I think they end up doing as adults so… here’s an extremely long post about it:
George’s path is obvious to me. He becomes a foremost voice on the nature of the problem, and he’s able to go to Oxford for university (or the most prestigious UK university still running) on this basis. He gets a degree in history and goes on to a PHD. He then dedicates several years to writing a complete, multi-volume, history of the problem/agencies/corruption/visitors (which will go down in history as THE TEXT about the problem)
… I’ll put the rest under the cut bc this is fr going to be lonnnng
We also know from the existence of Lockwood and Co the books that Lucy at some point metatextually writes a memoir detailing the antics of Lockwood and co. (Which, go off girlboss, she did a great job.) For Lucy’s career path, I imagine that she is a formal DEPRAC partner for a time goes to the other side more than any of her other L&Co colleagues to help out.
This may be a weird take, but I also think that Lucy’s relationship with the Skull and all the weird experiments on ghosts she witnesses lead her to go all GHOST RIGHTS. She campaigns for seeing ghosts differently and repsecting the dead and works to get DEPRAC to create better regulations for how sources are treated when contained and advocates for figuring out how to release them to the other side rather than destroying sources as a first move. Idk I think it suits her relationship to ghosts; she’s definitely more invested in their humanity than other agents.
I don’t think Lockwood would try to hire young agents as a supervisor to keep the agency going after losing his sight. Especially since he’s aware that the problem is fading and considering he’d still have work available through DEPRAC. I think Lockwood spends his first few post-sight years in lots of therapy and takes time off from working since he’s been running a very intense business since he was like 14. I also think he foots the bill for Flo to get a therapist as well.
They’re both able to work through their grief and trauma from the people they’ve lost, Lockwood works through his habit of repressing his feelings, and Flo works through her feelings of being cornered while in doors. Flo eventually moves into Portland Row, and she and George and Lucy and Lockwood spend most of their young adult lives (whole lives if you ask me) living in the same house or living right next door to each other.
As for Lockwood’s actual career path I think Lockwood’s would make it his life’s work to share his parents findings. He spreads the traditional burial practices and ways to ward off ghosts like that Lockwood’s parent’s researched to help people protect themselves from ghosts around the UK as the problem fades.
I don’t know that I see Flo having a real job. I could see her in advocacy for housing insecure youth (we know London has MANY due to the Problem) but I’d also like to see her have a relaxing-ass life. Enjoy therapy and her friends, date George, plant a vegetable garden. Flo’s never cared much about material goods so I could see her working odd jobs here and there to help contribute to Portland Row Expenses, but mostly focus on nonprofit work and political activism while enjoying her life.
I think both Kipps and Holly stay on at Lockwood and co until it permanently disbands, then I imagine they both work to advocate for the rights of former agents in some capacity. If Holly could further her eduction I think she’d work in the legal system, maybe working in administration/research on cases that are attempting to hold leaders of the Orpheus society and high up Fittes and Rottweil people accountable for compensating traumatized former agents. Oh and she asks out that girl from DEPRAC she was living with (and they were roommates oh my god they were roommates)
I think Kipps might (after he’s matured a bit) get involved with a young adult professional development program trying to address all of the former agents and nightwatch kids who forwent education at a young age to hunt ghosts and help them access free education and classes to gain new marketable skills as the ghost hunting industry declines and kids age out of the sight. He also stops beefing with teenagers (so much) and lives out his destiny as surrogate brother/20 year old adopted father to Lucy George and the rest. And he gets himself a husband bc he deserves it 😤
As for the Skull… I’m in the camp that he does return and he occasionally stops by Portland Row to chat with Lucy and pull poltergeists type pranks on the other residents. When Lucy can no longer hear him 🥲 I still think he sticks around for a while, making his presence known by moving objects and helping keep the house cool in the summer (yayyy ghost chill), he also still speaks to Lucy when she does work on the other side with DEPRAC. But eventually, maybe when Lucy’s in her late twenties, the skull feels ready to move on, and Lucy visits to the other side to say good by and help him pass on.
#if you need me to say in this post that Lockwood and Lucy stay together then you’re silly#I’m less decided on if George and flo stay together but I think they certainly have a healthy and kind relationship that lasts a few years#lockwood and co spoilers#Lockwood and co#Lockwood and co headcanons#the empty grave#lucy carlyle#Locklyle#anthony lockwood#george cubbins#holly munro#flo bones#quill kipps
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Napoleon and the rivalry of the marshals
This is translated from the second volume of a book called "Etudes sur Napoléon" by Elie de Baudus, a former aide-de-camp of Marshal Bessières. I'm only browsing some parts of it, as I do most of the time, but I can already say that, while these are not truly memoirs, there are some interesting descriptions and details in it. Elie seems to have become a royalist by the time he publishes the book, usually referring to Napoléon as "the usurper" and in general very critical of him.
This is a rather long excerpt about the marshals unwillingness to cooperate - and Napoleon encouraging this attitude.
Who would not believe that in an army led by a hand as firm as Napoleon's there was complete obedience, from the second lieutenant to the officers of the highest rank, all the way up to him himself? It was generally so, except among the first chiefs. At the very moment when the hatred of Barclay was causing discord in the Russian camp, our affairs were also suffering from the lack of agreement between two of our generals. The operations of the advance guard were hampered for several days by Marshal Davoust's reluctance to support the cavalry with his infantry. On 29 August, things had even been pushed so far on the part of the Marshal that, when I was at Murat's headquarters in the evening, I learned that the prince's officers had had great difficulty preventing him from going to see the Marshal with the intention of asking him to explain his conduct, sword in hand.
Surely would have been a sight to see: One infuriated King of Naples, all the feathers on his hat ruffled with anger, bursting into Davout's tent. And then probably having to wait for Davout to find his glasses so he could recognize his illustrious visitor.
It may also be interesting insofar as, while I’ve not read much about the Russian campaign, I had the impression that modern historians rather tend to agree with Davout (?). But for Baudus, this is not so much about who was right but a matter of obedience:
No one will approve of the course taken by Marshal Davoust in this circumstance; he was under the King's orders for everything that the infantry had to do to support the movements of the cavalry; his duty was to obey. In all cases, a feeling of devotion to the glory of the army should always have prevented him from taking any action likely to compromise the success of operations; the Marshal therefore set an example that was all the more deplorable because he was higher up in the military hierarchy. These discussions ceased when Napoleon placed the division of Compans entirely at the disposal of the King of Naples.
Implied: without truly settling the matter and without declaring either that Murat was factually in the wrong and his orders had been so bad no commander in his right mind would follow them, or that Davout had overstepped his boundaries with his disobedience. For Elie, the matter is clear:
The King was in the right, Davoust was in the wrong; it was not appropriate to agree with them both. Here there was no question of discussions between people of equal rank. Murat was king; he owed this high fortune to his talents, his valour, and above all to the advantage of being the brother-in-law of the emperor; the latter had to ensure that in Murat the august title with which he had clothed him was respected; if he did not do so, it was because such quarrels between the chiefs of his army did not displease him.
… and above all to the advantage of being the brother-in-law of the emperor …
Murat: Arrgh! You’re not helping, Elie!
This was not the only occasion when it was easy to perceive this; he had already demonstrated it by not publicly showing any displeasure to Marshal Ney, with regard to the violent discussions which he had had with Marshals Soult and Masséna, in Spain and Portugal, when he was placed under their orders. It is easy to guess the reason for this: an intimate agreement between them would have given him cause for concern; there can therefore be no doubt that, as a matter of policy, he was opposed to the existence of such an understanding. An anecdote quoted by Mme de Staël in her book "Dix ans d'exil" gives a curious idea of Napoleon's views in this respect. After recounting a few details of her meeting and conversation with the emperor Alexander, this famous woman adds: "He also told me about the Machiavellian lessons that Napoleon had seen fit to give him. You see," he told her, "I take care to put my ministers and generals at odds with each other, so that they reveal to me the wrongs of each other. I maintain a continual jealousy around me through the way I treat people around me; one day one of them thinks he is preferred, the next day the other, and no one can ever be sure of my favour."
All this care had not been without result; the marshals almost all hated each other, especially those whose talents, high reputation and unquestionable ability placed them in the first rank. So whenever several of them found themselves together on the same point without being under the immediate orders of the master, their lack of understanding or their disobedience to the orders of the senior marshal often caused the most important and best combined operations to fail. Having adopted such a system, Napoleon should have carefully avoided creating embarrassments for himself on several points at once, as he had wisely done up until the time of his aggression against Spain. Moreover, this profound Italian finesse, used to divide the army leaders and applied to the French character, was a luxury; Napoleon could have relied on the satanic self-love on which it was based to bring about the state of affairs he desired in this respect; he could even, without inconvenience, have fought vigorously against this tendency to disobedience instead of encouraging it; there would always have been enough left to achieve his aim.
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Clouded
Your sensual madness is something Erwin adores.
🔞 mdni | masterlist | 992 wc | afab!reader x Erwin
Warnings: smut; masturbation, PIV, drunk sex (ergo dubcon), creampie, breeding allusions, very Emotional
AN: Repost from my old account. This is some of my most abstract writing so please know it may not be your flavor (I wrote this absolutely smashed and edited only lightly).
Your body feels as though pliant liquid in the sheets that caress your body like a lover's kiss. Your hips undulating against the fabric as it slides along your skin while you writhe. Your breasts heave with a heavy breath that brings your chest high and lets your nipples crest upward. Nothing is stopping how good you feel in this moment and you naturally turn sideways and then to your stomach, finding rhythm on your fingers to pinch swipe press roll and even twist your clit until your essence slides to your fingers beneath you like dripping honey, succulent sticky sweet.
Your entire being is focused on finding release and relief and pleasure and molten fluttering godless rapture in equal measure. It’s impossible to think. Things have been murky since you left your house, your temporary house? Something felt intangibly unstable about your residence but fuck did words escape you. You needed a goddamn earthquake in your cunt or you were going to ungather at an atomic level.
It’s here he finds you, desolate and wanting, wet slick and fucked on your fingers nearly raw. But you need every centimeter of him inside you once you find him there. Once you see him. When you realize there is a fucking solution to the madness ripping you apart and it is Him. He worries for your wild passion, but he starts to understand quickly, helping to quell the sheer force that ensnares your body in ardour. His blonde hair rasps your fingers like frothing tides that bind your bodies in tortuous waves crashing torrential collisions. You do not know where is up but you are full to bursting with Erwin. His cock is inside your sweet walls that hold him close in a lover’s grasp. As if he’s the glue to your universe and the only sanity holding your bones together but with the stitching of steel that his confidence lends in droves as he fucks you alive, whole, full, healthy.
Light halos his hair as whispering temptations to seek a brightness you cannot touch without irreparable, fatal implications, to touch the sun. But he is between your legs and you will have the fill that insatiates your appetite to gargantuan propensities as if to flick your sexual psyche to violins playing a warrior’s tale.
He presses forward into your sopping cunt with a length that burns and the symphony pitches wild in your ears. You cannot control how you choose to receive him. You body caves to the invasion of something so splittingly large you can almost not compete with the stretch it necessitates. But you wouldn’t have it any other way as he completes you with every inch of himself. To know him this way connects you so naturally that your body cannot help but submit to his every whim as he subliminally commands it.
He craves and he will do as he sees fit, like scowering your cunt because he wants to have every inch of you marked. When you’re out about your day your cunt should weep with his come. Every moment without being inside you is torture to his being and he rectifies it with sturdy jams into the softness you willingly present him. That is your cunt being speared by his length for what feels like hours as his cock stirs molasses between your thighs as a concoction you want to choke on he is so incensing. You do not know where his battering bruises end and your soul or being begins. He is so deep you feel as though there is no difference where your breaths synchronize in aphrodisiac whimpers that thrum as a war drum in your chest.
He conquers your body and resides inside you with a parasitical harmony that shreds and glues your psyche with equal dissonance and nirvana. You would accept no less from the god between your plush thighs that promises pleasure of his cock for as long as you’ll have him as you give your very womb over to the virile creature you choose to willingly house at your apex. His balls draw into a tightness that blinds his lungs of breath and mind of thought as he drives deep. He wants to fuse your beings as though a cosmic rip may render life more meaningful if he pushes only a centimeter deeper into your soft cunt. He wants to solve every problem in his body ache to wail and wound to fatality with the leaking essence your body grieves to him in pleasure unbounded.
He doesn’t judge as you pull upward in a tensing arc that replicates the swell of merciful relief lapping your sense of self as you curl into his stomach, a warm retreat for your tender limbs. He is a comfort like the freeing sunlight on a cold winter. He titillates your senses with every movement and gesture as he crests within your womb. A fulfilling radiance shines in your mind as he releases, seed seeking purchase into the rendered Life you proffer with raised hips.
Erwin falls forward into your arms as you are only full of the sense of Him. His contours cover you as he lays down gently with your form on the mattress. Lips wisp ballads of kindnesses professed in blissed cerebral ichor that cloy your lungs with affection so bright you nearly burn at an internal smoulder. You are so overwhelmed that water brims your eyes as traitorous fear leaving you in visible droplets Erwin catches with his ready thumbs that swipe love into your visage. He wishes, swishes a calm into your body that pairs with the release he has consistently tapped into your bud with precision of a lover overcome with care for another. He presses himself deeper and closer with your flutters that continue to milk him like a suckling desire of wholeness that blisters your being in need.
He answers, all of him a balm on your ache.
Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @blondeboyfriend @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close
#aot#aot x reader#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#aot smut#aot x reader smut#snk#shingeki no kyoujin#writing with kbee#aot x you#aot x y/n#reader insert#Erwin smith#Erwin smut#Erwin smith smut#Erwin x reader#Erwin x you#erwin smith x reader#Erwin smith x you
24 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
kpdgmail190
Sin título
tactillium
Mind_off
tactillium
Mind_off
pacotebarato
Pacote Barato
tactillium
Mind_off