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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 11 months

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Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

��I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

1K notes · View notes

stellar-skyy · 6 months

Note

Sir/Ma'am PLEASE I need the readers reaction to furina's announcement you have made ur fic my roman empire.

RUIN — Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: The aftermath of Furina's announcement. (Sequel to Court Gossip.) ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Arguments, crying, brief use of pet names (darling, dear). iii. NOTES: Angst, hurt with no comfort, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.7k words. iv. A/N: I think this the best compliment I've ever recieved omg... I truly did intend to make a happy conclusion to this but the angst. It was too tempting... there might be a part three coming :3

The trip from the Opera Epiclese to her home was a whirlwind. Furina’s mind began to stray as soon as she stepped behind the curtains, with Neuvillette’s hand resting on her back the only sensation grounding her. He was kind enough to accompany her to her residence, opening the door and allowing her to trudge inside.

“Lady Furina?” He asked carefully, watching from the doorway as she kicked off her shoes. Usually she would wait until she was alone to begin shedding her layers of clothing, but Neuvillette had seen her in worse states.

“What is it?” She tugged off her gloves and laid them on the coffee table, pausing to pick up the photo frame in the centre. She stared at her own grinning face, chin hooked over her lover’s shoulder. Her finger traced their face, delicately, like the glass would shatter with any harsher touch.

Neuvillette paused. “Would you like me to stay?”

“Whatever for?” She giggled, like it was a silly proposition. “And shut the door behind you, you’re letting the cool air out.”

He obliged, before continuing. “I know that wasn’t an easy announcement to make, and you must be very stressed by what you’ve been through this past day. If this situation is weighing on you, I am more than happy to stay and talk to you. Especially if I can bring you some sort of comfort.” Silly Neuvillette. She wasn’t the one who needed comforting.

“But, it’s a Tuesday, isn’t it…” Furina murmured, half in a daze. “It’s Tuesday. I cook dinner on Tuesdays.”

She blinked. “You can’t stay, it’s Tuesday. I have to get dinner ready for my darling when they come home.”

“…Very well.” A pinch had formed between Neuvillette’s eyebrows, a distinct sign of an incoming migraine. “Will you be alright?”

“Oh, you worry so, Monsieur Neuvillette!” Furina feigned a laugh, like she was still onstage performing for Fontaine. Something painful sparked in her chest, as she wondered when her own home became a performance. “I will be perfectly fine!”

The sound of a key turning in the lock made her flinch. Neuvillette moved away to let in her partner, who scarcely gave him a glance as they entered.

“Furina,” They called, in lieu of a greeting.

“Hello, dear,” Furina said chirpily. It sounded strained. “I’m about to start making dinner. It’s going to be your favourite tonight! I thought I would surprise you.”

“Ahem. I believe it is time to take my leave,” Neuvillette cleared his throat. “Goodbye, Lady Furina.”

She hummed a goodbye, still turned away from the door.

“Furina,” her lover repeated, stressing the word.

“It’s been a long day, a-and I thought we could eat and then—”

“Furina I was there.”

Oh.

She turned slowly, letting both the plates and her fragile grip on normalcy go. They were standing tall, eyes red and rimmed with tears, and Furina resisted the urge to rush over and smother them in kisses until their face split into a grin.

“Ah. I’m sorry dear.” Sorry. It was too simple of a word to try and mend what she had broken.

There was a beat of silence. Their eyes never left her own. “What for?”

“…What do you mean, ‘what for’?”

“What are you sorry for?” They asked, the barest touch of anger in their tone. “Are you sorry you told them I was unimportant? Are you sorry for what they said about me? Or are you sorry that you got caught?”

“I—I don’t understand,” Furina’s face felt hot. “You know I’m sorry for…”

“I don’t think I do,” They snap. They finally break eye contact with Furina to take off their coat and lay it over the back of their chair. “I thought you would be sorry for saying those things, but if you were actually sorry, you wouldn’t have done it.”

“Darling, I know I have hurt you, but it was a mistake.”

“Mistake?” A huff left their lips, incredulity marring that beautiful face of theirs. “I’ve made mistakes. I haven’t stood in front of the opera and told an entire crowd you were worthless.”

“I-I understand that mistake is a rather silly word, but there isn’t anything else I can say! I certainly don’t think you’re worthless, you’re… you’re everything.” Everything was a silly word too, when she was thinking of the only person to strip back her layers and see her for herself.

“Do you actually love me?” The words hit her like a shot to the chest. “Or was that a ‘mistake’ too?”

“Of course, I love you!” The mere thought of not loving them sent her head spinning. “I’ve loved you since I first laid eyes on you. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t!”

“Then why?”

“I had no other choice! They would have said—”

“Let them talk! Who cares about what they think?” They scoffed, hands curling into fists.

“I do! I have to!” Furina’s voice cracked, her composure crumbling with each second they spent looking at her with disbelief in their eyes. “Do you seriously not get it? My reputation is important!”

“More important than me?” They asked.

Furina was silent. The word yes hung between them like a noose around both their necks.

“Yeah… I don’t know why I expected anything different,” they said hollowly.

“Darling…” Furina croaked out, moving closer until they were eye-to-eye.

Her face was wet. When did she start crying?

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” Furina stressed. “I’m sorry for being cowardly. I’m sorry I put their opinion over you. I’m sorry, darling.”

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She would never be the attentive and loyal partner they deserved, and they would never be passive enough to be content falling into the shadows. The two of them were doomed to stay trapped in this painful dance, stumbling between Furina’s work and their own feelings towards each other, until one trips over their own feet and sends them falling to the ground. It was a performance of tragedy; one that would leave both in ruin.

The hopelessness of their relationship was not lost on Furina, but it was drowned out by a deep and unshakable longing—to be touched, to be held, to be loved, by them and only then.

Before them, Furina had never met anyone she’d willingly let herself be ruined by.

“Please,” Furina whispered, clasping their hands in hers and pressing them against her lips. Between each kiss to their knuckles was another whispered promise. “I love you, darling. I swear I love you.”

“I… I love you too,” they said shakily, squeezing her hands. “I—I don’t think I can see you right now. I just—I just can’t.”

Slowly, they let go of her and turned to pick up their coat. “I’m going out. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Darling, please…” Furina clutched around the edge of their clothes, grasping at any part of them to frantically try to keep them from slipping away. “I’m sorry!”

“I know you’re sorry,” they sighed, carefully untangling from her desperate hands.

“Tell me what to do!” She begged. “Please, just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it. I need to know how to fix this. Tell me what will make you stay.”

Something hollow crosses their face. “I want to stay. But I don’t think that would be good for either of us. You said it yourself, you have to care about what they think.

“You can stay. We can simply keep it under wraps.” Furina traced her thumb along their face, committing each mark and curve to her memory.

They laughed wryly, without a trace of humour. “We tried that, didn’t we? How well did that turn out?”

Furina brought her hands back to her lips, brushing a kiss over every patch of skin she could reach. Her words were quiet, barely a murmur into their hands and barely reaching their ears. “We’ll do better this time, won’t we? Just… please don’t leave me, darling.”

They gently shifted their joined hands down so they were looking straight at Furina again. They leaned forward, close enough that she could feel their breath on her cheek, and for a moment it seemed they were going to kiss her. Their lips paused, about a centimetre away from hers, and began to speak softly. “I’ll put it this way. If you can look at me in the eyes and tell me that you can be in a public relationship with me, without it negatively affecting your work, your reputation, or either of our wellbeing, then I will stay.”

And oh, if that didn’t feel like they had dug a knife into the wound and twisted. Furina bit back the protests threatening to spill over, promising them that of course, they would be her top priority, and it wouldn’t be a problem at all!

Because they weren’t wrong, were they? Furina de Fontaine, Hydro Archon, surveyor of justice. Someone like her could never survive in an ordinary relationship, not without a nation’s worth of eyes keeping an eye on her every move. That was no way to love someone. Perhaps it was for the best, to turn her back now and save them the heartbreak that was to follow; to end it when they were still so in love and spare their inevitable drifting apart.

Furina’s grip on their hands loosened with each passing thought, while they stared back at her with hope in their eyes. It was a look so raw, so painfully tender that she almost fell apart. Such hope would only destroy them if she entertained them with wishful thinking.

She couldn’t allow herself to destroy them. They were simply too precious to treat so carelessly.

And so—

She let them go.

Their expression fell, and her hand slipped away from theirs. Without another word, they shrugged their jacket over their shoulders and walked away. Unlike Furina, they didn’t stop to look at the photos, nor the shelves covered in an eclectic selection of books taken from two individual’s tastes. They didn’t stop until they were already halfway through the door, hand clasped firmly around the handle.

“Goodbye, Furina.”

Furina waited for the door to close and the footsteps outside to fade, before she collapsed to her knees and let herself fall apart.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #gi x reader #furina x reader #genshin furina x reader #furina angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #furina x gn reader #furina x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader

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invissimp · 5 months

Text

Yule Blues

Draco malfoy x reader

Summary: Confusion during the holiday season wasnt something you wanted to deal with especially with the Yule Ball in a few weeks.

Snow. Thats always how you knew Christmas was around the corner this year the first snow falls just so happened to be on a trip to Hogsmeade.

Although you were walking with Hermione, Ron, and Harry your plan was to meet up with Draco at the three broomsticks halfway through the visit.

Draco usually didn't even bother trying to get you from your house friends mainly because they were overprotective of you since your best friend is their "rival".

So that's why you decided it would just be better meeting him somewhere other than him trying to find you in the small village.

Glancing towards the left seeing Ron looking at Hermione while she was explaining how the Yule ball was going to work. On your right was Harry since he and Ron weren't really on 'talking terms'.

Although you felt bad for Hermione for leaving her alone with Harry and Ron while they weren't talking to each other. The other part of you was happy to finally visit the three broomsticks with Draco since last year you only did once.

Glancing down at your watch almost every 3 minutes to see if it was time to go see Draco. Although there was a good chance he was already there you still didn't want to leave your friends so soon.

"You know we're not stopping you from seeing Malfoy right?" Your red headed friend asked.

Taken aback from his niceness towards Draco even if it was hard to make a comment about Draco mean Ron always found a way to.

"You guys wouldn't mind if I went ahead and left to go see him?" You asked

The two boys just nodded their heads while Hermione let out a simple yes to the question. Before they could even say bye you were gone heading towards the three broomsticks.

Bringing your gold and red scarf up to your nose since it was still a couple minutes walk. Glancing around to see people from different houses and schools walking into each store wanting to see what was in each one, especially the third years.

Smiling to yourself thinking of how last year Draco mentioned in one of his letters towards you during the summer he said that he wanted to be the first one to take you to all the stores. (you both knew that wouldn't happen) He really did enjoy your company.

Ron would always joke that he liked you more than his own housemates and he fancies you.

You had always denied the first part but the second half is something you wished to be true since in all honesty you were completely in love with Draco Malfoy. Would he return your feelings? Most likely not he probably fancies Pansy Parkinson.

Shaking your head to get out of your thoughts only to be met by a Durmstrang student, Steven Bottom. There had been rumors about his plan to ask you to the Yule ball. If worse comes to worse then yeah you would go with him. Although you would prefer to go with a boy from a slytherin house.

“Ah Y/N what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” The Durmstrang student said with a grin.

You always knew you were somewhat short compared to your friends, especially Ron and Draco but Steven was a good 6’4(1.9 meters). Smiling up at him “Nice to see you as well Steven.”

Although his name didn’t get called from the goblet you knew he put it in there. You two had been in the library a couple times so you can explain to him what all happens at Hogwarts and just to hang out with someone new to school.

Although you had been walking by yourself to the three broomsticks, why not walk with Steven. “Care to walk with me?”

Nodding his head to your question already following you.

“So has anyone asked you to the Ball yet, i’m sure their has to be some people that want to go with you?” The Bulgarian asked with just the slightest hint of desperation in his voice.

Now the smile on your face has went down a little but not by a whole lot “Yeah a couple people have but ive said no to all of them I been waiting to be asked by a certain person.”

Now that definitely caught his attention “So no date yet just making sure?”

Shaking your head for a no to his question while glancing up at him just to see him wearing the same grin as he had before when you first ran into him today.

Seeing that you were only about a minute away from your destination was a plus since you really didn't want to keep this conversation going and end up rejecting Steven just to wait for a boy who won't even ask you.

Taking a deep breath of oxygen before asking you “So can I be that certain person to ask you to the Yule ball I mean we can have a great time there and it wont be a waste of your…” Draining out his rambling once the three broomsticks came into sight and thankfully Blasie was outside.

“Bloody hell Y/N your finally here I thought you werent going to show and then I would have to deal with a pissed Draco all night which is NOT on my bucket list.” The slytherin said warning that Draco might be in a bad mood.

Glancing down at your watch to see that Steven had slowed your walk down just by talking to you and now the trip was a little over halfway. Looking up at Steven to see disappointment in his eyes made you feel bad a tad bit, just a tad.

“We can finish this conversations some other time yeah?” you said more like a statement than question before walking into the three broomsticks.

This place has never failed to feel welcoming, hell even the most sad human could walk in here and be cheerful just for the day. Looking around to see Madam Rosmerta had put up the Christmas trees and decorations.

Obviously it was busy since it was the first day, darting your eyes around looking for the boy youve been waiting to see all day. Finding him in the back corner which you couldn't really see because of one of the many Christmas trees.

Smiling softly at him, you knew he had been looking at you since you've walked into pub. Taking in his appearance his gloves and scarf had been on the table corner and your seat across from him had already been pulled out for you to sit in.

Walking over to the table and pulling off you gloves.

“Well look who finally decided to show up only 10 minutes late.” The seeker said sarcastically while moving your gloves over on the table.

Glaring at him “I could just leave right now and never talk to you again.” You said with a serious face on.

Knowing you was just lying to him he rolled his eyes. That was his specialty knowing your humor and personality better than anyone could.

Sitting down finally after almost 2 hours of walking.

—

Talking with Draco made time fly by fast for sure it had only felt like 5 minutes but in reality a hour and half. That means only about a half hour longer to talk to him.

“So what was you and Bottom talking about in the street he seemed pretty happy about it before you walked away?” Draco asked

Confused on how he would know but Draco read your face and pointed towards the window that had a perfect view of where you and Steven were talking.

“Oh he was asking me about the Yule Ball and if I have a date yet to it.” you replied softly, now that was something that caught Dracos attention he doubted he wouldnt know if you were going with someone but you never know.

“So are you?” He asked trying not to seem to interested, shaking your head a no “Just waiting for a certain someone to ask me but if he doesnt then I might go with Steven.”

No way you could ever go with someone but Draco, seeing you even talk to someone else gets him mad enough but dancing would be another level of madness.

Nodding his head to your response. “So have you been asked or ask anyone yet?” You said curiously with just a hint of hopefulness in your eyes.

Draco knew lying was terrible, although hes done it before he hated doing it to people he cared about(even though it was just you and his mom). Draco didnt know why he said what he said it just kinda came out of his mouth. “Im going with Pansy I also asked her.”

Looking at your eyes to see the hopefulness fall out of them and be met with sadness and a weak “Oh.”

Now the converstation had gotten awkward enough to the point you might as well just walk away.

Which is exactly what you did. Before Draco could even realize it, you had gotten up and left the pub leaving him behind with your gloves.

———

Trees. Christmas trees to be exact had been put up all around the school to celebrate the spirit. Each student also got to make a ornament each year to put on a tree.

Some were common like a snowflake, bulbs with intials on it. The weasley twins always did magic on theirs to make it extra special and stand out.

This year Heromione made hers a cat with whiskers that move every few minutes. Ron’s was a simple broomstick that he had Hermione make it where it can fly around to different trees each day.

You never put much thought into your ornament since you’d only see it for a week and a half. But this year you and Draco planned on doing matching ones. His was to be a black swan and yours a white one.

It was your mission to avoid him of course but that didn’t stop you from still fulfilling your part of the plan. It was late at night and Ron requested food from the kitchen, Harry offered to come with you but you denied since it was better for just one person to get caught and not two just in case.

Knowing that the chances of running into anybody were slim and Harry had already checked the Marauders Map before you had gone out to make sure Flich wasn’t anywhere around.

Stepping foot into the kitchen to see just a few elves around. Requesting the food that Ron and Harry wanted along with a few drinks.

Hermione told you to make it quick since their was no warning if any teacher decided to take a stroll around the halls. Getting the food from the elves and responding with a small “thank you” before walking up and out into the hall.

Walking back towards the Common room felt even longer, the longest thing that you’ve experienced even potions or charms. It was bound to happen after all, footsteps were heard from behind you. Here comes detention for a week.

“Y/N.”

You could recognize that voice from anywhere, the one where you heard for weeks but haven’t had a conversation with. Draco Malfoys voice.

The inner gryffindor in you was not coming out, all you wanted to do was run away and not stop to talk to Draco.

Before your plan to run away could happen the slytherin done turned you around to face him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He stated like it was simple knowledge. If anyone else saw him they would say he looked angry or annoyed which he did. But his eyes had just a hint of sadness in them.

Over the years knowing Draco’s facial expressions have gotten easier, enough where you can see across the great hall with one glance to know if he was going to have a good or bad day. Which was him making fun of Harry or leaving his comments aside.

Deciding to test your luck with him and see if you can get away with it. “No I havent just been busy with the Ball and stuff like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You know I can read you like a book right?”

Having no comeback to that and just looking at him. It was bound to happen eventually knowing that he would talk to you. This wasn’t one of the ways you pictured him finding you alone.

“Why did you leave out of the blue in hogs meade after I talked about the Yule ball?”

Well he definitely got straight to the point for once, Draco wasn’t known for that usually everyone would have to guess about what was wrong with him or what he was trying to say.

Not right now though, not when you his bestfriend, crush had been avoiding him for weeks now even after he planned on asking you out that same day and just say it was a joke about Pansy.

Lost at words to respond to him, he looked as though he was going to say something. You couldn’t bare to hear it, how he was going to make fun of you about not having a date.

So you ran. Ran as fast as you could, faster than when you pranked Ron. Running down the hallways to stop by the fat lady portrait, you could hear Draco’s faint footsteps in the background.

Saying the password and slamming the portrait shut to be met with Harry, Ron and Hermione all staring at you with wide eyes.

“I like draco Malfoy.”

————

Part 2

#oneshot #x reader #draco malfoy one shot #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #golden trio era

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— CLOSER THAN THIS

SUMMARY : part IV of gimme half. something quick. something hot. in between busy tasks. when everyone else has not arrived.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, p in v, clothed sex, against the wall

WORD COUNT : 2.2k

A/N : jimin song title. this fills the quickie square of my @jacklesversebingo card. I don’t even know what I’m doing 😋 but these can be read as standalone fics 😌 XXX

Dean made cute faces all the time.

It was hard to resist smiling when she was around him. His jokes made her laugh, his faces made her laugh, even his laugh made her laugh, and the way he playfully sang along to the music from his playlist, the faces he pulled in concentration or as he tasted what he cooked made her smile.

He was the embodiment for endearment. Those adorable dimples of his only made him more charming. She swooned an embarrassing amount of times in all those moments.

She was delighted when he called her some time after noon and asked her to come over if she wasn’t busy to help him out with dinner. He spent most of the afternoon cooking and baking for his friends. It was one of the best times she’d spent with him, getting to know him like this, seeing in person as he serves others rather than peeking through the windows of her house to get to know him.

It sounds creepier than it actually was, at least she thought so. She was a nosy neighbour. Oh, God, that’s horrible. To be fair, she was only nosy when it came to Dean—they were enemies. Were.

That phase was over.

Sometimes she woke up in his bed, other times he woke up in hers. And then they’d make each other breakfast. And now they went on dates. And now they babysat his nephew when Sam and Eileen went out on dates—that brought up a lot of thoughts she didn’t have before. Kids.

Seeing Dean like that with his nephew… Using a cute voice and singing him to sleep, messy feeding and messier baths, bedtime stories and playing pretend, soothing him when he cried and teaching him new things.

She wondered if Dean felt the same, if the thoughts of fatherhood haunted him the way they haunted her when he fell asleep in her bed. Or when she woke up with the sun, to Dean’s sleeping face. Or when they were alone at home, cooking, watching movies, sharing stories, drinking… when they went on rides with no destination in mind, on picnics, or even just grocery shopping. Sometimes he’d keep her company as she worked on hobbies and she’d do the same for him, watching him fix anything broken, or tune up his car.

She was too afraid to bring up that conversation. They were retired hunters. It’s part of why she refused to admit that she did want children. It’s like the choice was robbed from her and it hurt for so long, but it got easier to accept when she focused on hunting or her job as a professor.

Besides, she had her cat. Close enough.

When she went over to his place, she focused on helping Dean with chopping up whatever vegetables he needed to use, she washed them for him before using them, she brought the spices and herbs he needed, or the condiments that could be used, and cleaned up the dirty dishes after he was done using them.

Now that they were finished, they sat at the table waiting for everything to finish simmering while talking about things to do after. Watching a movie was the obvious answer, which one to watch was the harder part.

She believed it was Jody, Donna, Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Patience that were coming over. She met them at Sam’s wedding, barely. The only one who could truly answer that question was Dean, but now he was pouty because he wasn’t sure what they’d want to watch, but maybe he could ask them when they came.

He picked up some of the excess shredded carrots for the carrot cake he made for those who didn’t want pie, and dropped them into his mouth. He chewed, the carrots barely touched his taste buds, and he grimaced, but swallowed it anyway.

“Tastes better in the cake,” he grunted, getting up for a beer. She giggled and shook her head at him. “Want one?” He asked from the fridge, getting his open, but she shook her head, so he sat back down with her.

“So… you’re just good at everything?” She asked, scooting closer when he put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. He chuckled, his cheeks reddening. He ahh-ed after taking a sip of the cool beer and thought for a while.

“I’m not good at… designing clothes?” He offered bashfully, pushing the beer far away from him. She stared at it subtly then glanced up at him curiously.

“No, not like that,” she smiled softly, “you fixed my electrical outlet…” she reminded him, leaning forward to tap his plump lip. His mouth dropped open slightly and he exhaled, rolling his eyes shyly. She dropped her hand onto the table and thoughtlessly traced patterns on the surface, watching him get embarrassed.

“It was… nothing,” he sniffled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He leaned back in the chair and took the bottle of beer from the table again, playing with it to avoid her gaze.

“You’re very… John Wick,” she sighed, stretching her arms upward. He hummed softly, leaning back forward with his arms on the table, staring at her with interest. “It’s hot,” she whispered quietly, her eyes holding affection and longing.

“Yeah?” He murmured, staring at her like she was all that was there. It made her turn pink self-consciously, but she continued to gaze into his eyes. She saw his hand move and then it was over hers, warm and comforting.

“Mmm, yes,” she replied quietly.

Being around Dean was like being surrounded by a gas leak, and one kiss, one touch, one right word, acted like the spark that ignited everything. The fire robbed her of breath and stripped her skin away so she was bare and vulnerable to him.

Dean leaned forward, practically lunging to meet her lips, but the timer he set earlier went off loudly at the centre of the table, and made them jump away. They both laughed awkwardly, she extended her hand to turn it off while Dean turned the stove off.

“Wanna taste?” He asked, hummed softly as he took a tiny sip from the metal mixing spoon, and waited for her when she nodded. She stood before him, waiting and watching him blow air against the hot lentil soup in the spoon to cool it down.

She bit her lip and smiled, then he cupped his hand two inches beneath the spoon so it wouldn’t drip onto the floor. She opened her mouth and took the delicious, warm soup into her mouth, savouring it with a pleased hum, her eyes full of surprise and satisfaction. Dean pulled back a little too early, causing some soup to dribble down from the corner of her lip due to the awkward position they were in.

“Oh, my god,” she moaned, too distracted by the flavour. She only looked at Dean while he set the spoon down on the counter, indifferent about the puddle it created beneath. He grabbed her chin and dipped down to kiss the small trail of soup away, his warm tongue gently swiping up and down. Her breath hitched and her face burned hotter with embarrassment.

The embarrassment didn’t last and was replaced by a flush of arousal across every inch of her skin. Dean seared her lips with a hard, demanding kiss that made her breathless and numbed her mind of any thoughts.

He gently manoeuvred her across the kitchen, breaking apart from the kiss to breathe before returning to each other’s lips. She made quick work of the white apron around his waist, gasping at the unexpected bump of her back against the wall.

Dean took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and trailed his hands slowly down her sides, his palms pressing against her curves firmly. He only removed his hands from the short baby-blue dress when she shoved the thick green flannel off his shoulders, watching him throw it over onto the nearest counter in the kitchen.

Dean grabbed her hips to guide her into the hallway, digging his fingers into the tight dress to create dips into her flesh. She smoothed her hands down his chest and hooked her fingers over his leather belt, tugging him to her so she was pressed into the wall once more.

Dean was short of breath, his cheeks and ears becoming scarlet red when she started to undo his belt, staring into his eyes daringly. He slid his hands down her thighs, and sneaked them up under the mini-dress. The soft cotton rode up with his hands, his fingers hooking against the sides of satin, beige panties, swiftly pulling down so they dropped down around her ankles.

“Fuck, it’s like your horny all the time,” she whispered with a breathy laugh, wasting no time in tugging his jeans and boxers down. Her hand instantly circled around the base of his erect cock to squeeze tantalisingly.

“It’s not me being horny all the time, it’s that you’re always so fucking sexy, I can’t resist,” Dean quipped, dropping down to kiss her pushed up breast over the square neck of her dress.

Dean bent his knees, and stretched his hands down to press his fingers against the back of her thighs, urging her silently to jump so he could lift her up. When she did, she freed his dick, and placed her arms over his shoulders, and her legs around his waist, kissing him once more. Dean ground his hips against her, his hard cock rubbing against her leaking pussy.

“Please,” she whined, squirming when his cock brushed over her clit repeatedly. “They’re gonna be here in less than thirty minutes, Dean,” she reminded him. He chuckled huskily, but unhurriedly guided his cock to her needy, wet cunt, and pushed in at a tormenting pace.

He could feel her gushing around him, hot and wet. Dean moaned, reaching behind her arched back for the zipper of her dress, lowering it down halfway. He bounced her on his cock once with a smirk on his face, and lowered the straps of her dress off her shoulders, slid his fingers across the neck of it to tug downwards until her breasts spilled out from the tight material.

Dean instantly began to fuck her into the wall, his thrusts harsh and desperate, wasting no time in building up her orgasm. His fingers scraped up her thighs to tighten around her hips, blunt nails digging into her delicate skin.

Had the flowery drywall been cheap or damaged, she thought he’d break it down with the force of his thrust. He pounded into her, groaning out with pleasure into her ear before kissing and biting her throat, lovingly licking the red marks he left behind.

Her clit throbbed with each slap of his pelvic bone against her, her cunt felt hot and full stuffed with his cock, and her muscles were somehow tense and mushy all at once. Lust overcome her will, drawing loud noises of pleasure from her lip, mewls and whimpers of his name that made him fuck her faster and harder.

“Say my name, baby… I love when you say it,” Dean panted against her lips, feeling her pussy clenched tightly around his throbbing cock. With a whine she brought him closer with both her legs and arms, the knot in her belly becoming tighter and tighter.

She could barely speak as every rough thrust stole the oxygen from her lungs. She managed a gasp of his name, brought her hands down between their connected bodies to ghost her fingers beneath his shirt. Her hands slipped upwards and curled around to his back, her manicured nails digging into muscular shoulders, causing him to moan.

Every thrust drove Dean’s cock into the deepest depths of her vagina, brushing against sweet spots she forgot she had residing against the velvety, ridged walls of her pussy. She clenched around his pulsing cock, her nails scratching down the skin of his back, the knot becoming impossibly tight before she finally let go. Pleasure ran through her like electricity through a circuit, blinding her to the point of seeing an entire galaxy behind tightly shut eyes.

She screamed his name, the way he swore he’d make her scream the first night they were together. He slowed the thrust of his hips as he climaxed almost immediately after she reached hers, his cum spilling into her. Then he started up again, fucking her through her orgasm, until he softened inside her, his cum dripping around them.

“I think that’s the fastest I’ve made you cum,” he laughed, his voice gravelly. She laughed with him, grateful for the slowness in the way he pulled himself from her, and lowered her weak legs to the wooden floors.

“I need to pee,” she whispered, leaning against the wall with a smile while he fixed her dress, kissing and licking her nipples until they were tight before covering her back up, and zipping up the dress.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll get your underwear and meet you there,” he smiled softly and kissed her forehead lovingly before she left, pulling his jeans and boxers back up as he observed her very sexy behind.

She turned around with a knowing grin on her flushed face, sending a wink in his direction before she made a turn towards where the bathroom was.

“I’m fucking you slower tonight!” He shouted after her.

“Still rough, yeah!?” She called out teasingly, her voice echoing louder now that she was in the bathroom.

➥ my you

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#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction

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the-s1lly-corner · 7 months

Note

I’ve read through some of your old posts and I gotta say…I love me some angst. May I kindly, pretty please with a plastic cherry on top, ask for TADC gang with an S/O who abstracted a while back, but then they ‘respawn’ one day with a glitch affect about them, and their memory was totally wiped? Like it was their first day in the digital world? The glitch affect doesn’t hurt them or anyone like what happened to Ragetha and Pomni btw.

TADC cast x mended!reader

so funny story i was about to sit down and work on this about 4 hours ago but then my parents said they were going to watch the fnaf movie in the garage and i literally dropped everything and watched it so uh uh. the reason the grind stopped was because of fnaf movie and now im kinda tempted to pick up my fnaf fic again anyways! i did a similar post, here! jax and caines parts here will be short, really only focusing on the glitch aspect for them in this post, since the other half has already been written!

CAINE:

just got flashed with an image but you know that scene where the iron giant is trying to pick the boy up but hes like limp or something and the giant pulls back (ive never watched iron giant i just know this clip from a meme) i think it would be like that if he tried to poof your glitching away; but like. in an emotional way, if that makes sense. like its the same kind of carefulness and worry, i think... bonus if he does more damage than not

JAX:

honestly a little too scared to even touch you out of the deep seeded fear of getting all glitchy as well. like he knows it wont spread to him, but you know...

POMNI:

similar to jax i think she would instinctively avoid touching you even though she knows its fine... the whole hand thing making her overly cautious for future scenarios, you know? i think she would slip up and accidentally bring up something you and her did before you abstracted, or call you an endearing name before abruptly stopping herself and trailing off, sad stuff. grief makes her tear between wanting to find an exit faster and trying to make you remember/stay for you

RAGATHA:

poor girl :( i think she would genuinely try to make an effort to re/befriend you and try not to have her hopes too high for the two of you to get back together. if you hear about your past relationship and want to learn more about it, shell tell you what you want to know, but i doubt she would instantly start dating you again if you suggest the two of you trying to give the relationship a second shot... i think that would need some time

KINGER:

bro is gonna be going through it, first he loses his possible wife to abstraction and now he lost you.. got you back, but you dont remember anything. on top of that you look.. off.. sure it doesnt hurt you but it still looks like it would be uncomfortable, even if it isnt

stuck between longing to rekindle your old relationship and letting you go in order to allow himself to process this grief; the third option is potential abstraction for himself

ZOOBLE:

tries not to care. they want to forget everything like you did, they were finally starting to be normal after your abstraction. but now your back in a clean slate, mind wiped and memories gone. how does someone cope with that? as much as it hurts them they think it would be best for them to pretend you were a stranger again

GANGLE:

saying it again, poor girl. mix of pomni and ragatha here i think, like she keeps messing up and verbally reminiscing before realizing you cant relate to what shes saying anymore. will tell you anything you want to know about the past, but i think it would take a lot longer for her to consider getting with you again than ragatha. for both its kind of a "i dont want them to feel obligated to try because we were together once" type deal

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Like A Movie Part V

Summary: The final day of casting for Reader's movie leads to some sweet, sweet tension.

Word Count: 3.3K

A/N: The reception of this story is giving me LIFE. I love you guys! Are we liking this delicious slow burn?

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

The second and third days of auditions pass by much like the first one. Sans the panic attack about what to wear from you. You’re comfortable now, in the groove, and flowing with the process like selecting faces and voices to bring your art to life has always been your job. Few disputes occurred between the powers that be, you all mostly agree on who should be called back for what parts.

On the first day of callbacks, you got to see Jenna in action for the first time. You half expected her to just read off the script, prompting the other actors. But she’s a perfectionist, you know that about her now. She reads her lines like all the cameras are on her, like she’s on stage and the masses are watching with wide eyes. It challenges the other actors to push themselves, they have to be able to keep up with her.

But none of them shine the way she does. You figure that’s why she’s the star, she’s the brightest center of attention and the others are like pinpricks of light in her shadow. You’re reminded of the story of Icarus. You can’t help but wonder if you think maybe you feel like him, flying too close to the heat of Jenna’s sun. Or maybe these poor kids trying to shine next to her are more like him, their wax wings melting under the inferno of her.

You hadn’t written poetry since you’d taken up screenwriting, but being around her is making you think you should start again. You’re becoming painfully aware of your feelings for her, but you push them to the side the best you can. She’s your friend. She’s your director. She’s your burning star.

“What did you think?”

The sound of Jenna’s question directed at you shakes you from your reverie, and you blush realizing you hadn’t been paying attention to the reading. You had been busy watching her hands hold the script, watching her face cycle through the emotions the paper told her to express.

“Uh…pass?” You say, an apologetic smile pulling at your cheeks.

Jenna shakes her head at you, but she’s smiling. “Do we need to take a break?”

You suddenly feel as if fresh air is the only thing you need right now. You nod enthusiastically and the producers agree with you. It’s been hours, and everyone is growing weary. Chair legs screech as everyone stands, stretching their backs and legs.

You have half a mind to follow Jenna into the break room, but decide maybe some distance might help you clear your mind. Instead, you wander out in the hallway, making your way outside to feed your nicotine addiction that hadn’t been satiated in far too long. Maybe that’s what your issue was, you needed that sweet sweet head rush and then you could focus on hair that wasn’t golden brown, eyes that weren’t sweet as chocolate, and freckles that weren’t so damn perfect and adorable. Woof, man, this was bad.

When you push open the door to the alley, there are a handful of actors scattered about, doing the same thing as you. Some are smoking cigarettes, and some vaping. Either way, you’re all dependent on the same substance. You lean against the wall covered in graffiti and pull out your vape, dragging on it long and slow. Olivia is in a group of other actors and sees you, her face lighting up. She leaves them and beelines for you. You give her a small smile and a head nod as she approaches, beaming at you.

“Hi!” She says, she’s giddy, which takes you aback some. She’s acting like you’re the celebrity in the building. “How has it been for you so far? I know you’re not allowed to tell me about who’s doing well and who’s not, but are you having a good time?”

“Yeah I am, it’s all been very surreal honestly.”

She tucks a lock of golden blonde hair behind her ear, green eyes glinting in the late afternoon sun. “I really hope I land this job. I would absolutely die to work with Jenna. You’re so lucky.”

You chuckle, “You’re telling me! I’m in a constant state of gay panic and disbelief.”

She barks out a laugh that makes you smile. She’s very pretty and she’s rough around the edges. She has a deep laugh, and you can see tattoos poking out of the collar of her v-neck. Usually, she’d be exactly your type. And while you do like her, you don’t feel that magnetism for something more than friendship.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now, but I’m manifesting that I get this job, so I’ll see you around!” She says as she turns, smiling over her shoulder and throwing the door open.

You take another few drags from your vape feeling your mind slow and your body relax. You tuck it away and head back inside to get ready for the next reading. As you’re winding through the halls of the studio, you pass by an open doorway and through the corner of your eye you see Jenna. You stop past the door, then take a few steps backward and lean against the door frame.

She hasn’t noticed you yet, she’s got her black headphones over her ears and she’s writing notes in the margins of her worn copy of Secessus. You stay there, watching her for a while until she glances up. She startles, the leg that was hanging over the arm of the folding chair swinging to the ground. The script flies out of her lap onto the floor.

“Jesus y/n, you scared the shit out of me.”

You laugh and push yourself off the doorframe, making your way to the chair across from her. You pick up the script and sit down, keeping it in your lap.

“What’re you listening to?”

She blushes, “I uh…oh well I…” she stutters.

You gasp at her, a broad smile stretching across your face.

“You’re not listening to anything, are you?!” You accuse her.

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head no. You’ve caught her. Her hands slide down her face, and she’s got an embarrassed half smile on her lips.

“I wear them so people leave me alone. You got me. And you’ve also failed at taking that hint.”

You scoff, “It’s basically my job to bother you at this point.”

She shakes her head, slipping the headphones around her neck, “You never bother me.”

Your eyebrows quirk up and your head jerks back a little. That’s a heavy compliment, and you tuck it away to dissect later.

“How are you feeling? About the actors, I mean.” You ask her.

“I think we’ve got some serious talent, and I’m going to have to stay on my toes to keep up with them.”

You snort and lean forward, “Are you kidding me? I feel bad for them. You’re incredible.”

She doesn’t reply, only sits forward and squints at you smiling like she can’t figure you out. She stays like that for a beat, then stands, holding her hand out.

You take it and stand with her, making her laugh hard.

“I wanted the script back, but I guess I can help your ancient ass stand up.” She laughs.

Your eyes widen and you blush, dropping her hand like it’s hot coal. You pass over the script, your other hand reaching up behind your neck, staring holes into the floor as your face heats up. You glance back up and she’s giving you the same expression as before, her eyes searching yours for something.

She loops her arm in yours and turns you toward the door, “Come on, let’s get this day over with.”

The skin on your arm feels like it’s on fire where she’s touching it. So much for the nicotine chill. She’s quickly and unconsciously flustering you again as she leads you back to the audition room.

The rest of the day passes by faster than you’d like, and before you know it, there’s a list of actors in front of Jenna, ‘FINAL CAST’ written in block letters at the top. Your group has settled on the talent and you find you’re glad it’s over. Olivia’s manifesting worked. She landed the role she had hoped for. She would be playing the first wife of Judas, and you’re happy for her. A tiny nagging thought at the back of your mind whispers to you, ‘they’ll have a romantic scene,’ and you feel the sparks of jealousy coil in your gut.

The feeling irritates you, it’s irrational and stupid, and you grow angry at yourself for feeling it at all. Jenna notices the change in your posture, your body language betraying you.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you think we made the wrong decision on someone?”

The softness of her voice and her hand reaching out to rest on your forearm tears you in half. You feel even angrier with yourself, but part of you is soothed at her concern.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes, “Yeah I’m good. Just tired I think.” You half lie. You are tired, but that’s not why your spine went rigid and your jaw flexed.

“Okay,” Jenna replies, hesitance in her voice. “Hey, I have a surprise for you. Will you come with me for another few hours? I know you’re tired, but I think you’re gonna love this.”

You take in her expression, her eyes wide and hopeful. You couldn’t say no to her if you wanted to. And you didn’t want to, you wanted to spend as much time with her as you could. You couldn’t let her know that though. You’re stubborn, remember?

“Sure. I think I can squeeze you in between my dates with my couch and my tv.”

She rolls her eyes at you and retakes your arm, dragging you out to the parking lot. You rode your bike to the studio, so your car wasn’t there. Jenna pulls you to her car and opens the passenger door for you. She drives a Volvo SUV. It’s an electric car, because of course it is. She really is Captain Planet. Your bike is already in the trunk, and you turn to look at it curiously, then turn to her as she opens the drivers side door.

She glances back at it and then back to you. “I had my assistant put it in here after you got here.” She says, answering your unasked question.

“So you just knew I’d come with you?”

She eyes you, considering if she even needs to answer the question. “I figured you would. Guess I figured right.” She says as she backs the car out of the parking spot.

You cross your arms over your chest, but you’re amused. You can’t tell if you find it sweet that she knows you well enough now to predict what you’ll do or if it grates under your skin that you’ve let yourself be so predictable. Probably both, you decide.

Jenna turns up her music and the two of you ride in comfortable silence. She points the car away from LA, driving north. As the suburbs of the city give way to hills and underbrush, you start to wonder where she’s taking you. After twenty minutes, you find the suspense is too much and you have to ask.

“Are you taking me to the desert to murder me and steal my identity?”

She side eyes you, giving you an exasperated look. “Yes y/n, because my face wouldn’t give me away if I stole your identity. We’re almost there, relax, enjoy the suspense.”

You huff like a child, “You should know I hate surprises.”

“Too bad.” She says quickly, making you roll your eyes and smile.

You relent and settle in, turning your body away from Jenna to look out the window. Your head rests on the seat as you watch the scenery grow wilder with every mile you pass by.

After another ten minutes, Jenna is pulling off the road onto a long dirt drive that seemingly leads to nowhere. You sit up and look around, trying to find clues about where she’s taking you. She’s watching you out of the side of her eye again, glancing over at you every few minutes as she drives down the dirt road. A dilapidated farmhouse pulls into view, its shutters hanging off the hinges, paint peeling off the clapboards.

You frown, your lip curling at the house, instinctually nervous about the place. You look over to Jenna and she doesn’t react, she just keeps driving toward the house. She parks in front of it and turns to you, smiling wide.

“Oh god you actually are going to kill me, aren’t you?” You sigh, “I guess there are worse ways to die.”

She huffs a laugh through her nose and shakes her head at you. Her car door pops open, and she gets out, walking around to the front of the car. She looks at you through the windshield, waving for you to join her. You cross your arms and shake your head no, your face telling her she’s lost her damn mind if she thinks you’re getting out of the car. She throws her hands up and comes around to your door, popping it open.

“Come on, let me show you this.”

“Dude I write scary movies for a living. No fucking way.”

She looks at you like you’ve made her point for her. There are dots you’re not connecting here. Then realization clobbers you over the head and your eyes widen. You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide out of the car. You look up at the house, and see your words written there, the darkening sky, the mountains in the distance, the creaking door swinging on its hinges.

“It’s…it’s Secessus.” You say, awe filling your voice.

“Welcome to your world y/n. Obviously we’ll put some work into it, but this homestead is almost exactly what you wrote. Down to the funky barn in the back.”

“It’s fucking creepy.” Your eyes are wide and your mouth hangs open slightly.

She smirks, “You wrote it. You should know it’s fucking creepy.”

You lean back against the car, your eyes still scanning over the setting. Jenna has really outdone herself on this one. The place is terrifying, and you can see flashes of your movie coming to life in your mind. The feeling bubbles up in you and you start getting excited. Your eyes are bright and your smile is wild as you move off the car and around the house, chasing scenes in your head.

Jenna laughs following, “Wait wait, don’t go inside. The contractors are coming out tomorrow to make sure everything is structurally sound. Then they’ll start building the set around it.”

You skid to a stop, still giddy. Your movie was going to be a reality. Something you created from your own mind was going to be brought to life. And you had no one to thank but Jenna. You turn to her and she’s watching you, her face bright with enthusiasm. You’re not thinking, not processing anything but pure unbridled joy. You sweep her up in a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground and swaying her around.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” You tell her, feeling her arms wrap around the back of your neck as you swing her around.

She’s laughing, her breath warm against your neck, bringing you back down to earth and then shooting you off again as you realize she’s in your arms. You gently set her down, your arms still around her waist. She leaves her arms around your neck as she smiles up at you, both of you breathing heavily. Your mind is blank and full of ideas all at once. Bad ideas, but ideas nonetheless. She’s gazing up at you, blinking slowly and she glances down at your lips. You’re both waiting for something, anything, to tell you what the correct answer is.

A loud ringing comes through her car speakers, cracking through the quiet night like a whip. You both jump apart, shy about the moment you almost shared.

“That’s my phone,” Jenna says, retreating around her car.

You gasp for air when she’s safely on the other side of the car, far enough away for her not to hear you. Were you about to kiss her? Was she about to let you? What in the hell was happening right now? You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself.

Jenna walks around the car back to your side, still talking on the phone. You pull out your vape and drag from it, trying to play it cool.

“Seriously, next week is pretty short notice, don’t you think?” She says, clearly irritated with whoever she’s talking to. She mouths, “I’m sorry” to you and you shrug.

“What if I don’t want to go with him?” She waits as the person responds to her, throwing her head back and her arm out in frustration. “Because we’re not dating? What if I want to take someone else?”

She sighs as the other person talks for a while, leaning up against the car. Her body language is defeated.

“Okay okay, but after this, it’s done.” She waits a beat, “Yeah I’ll tell her. Okay, you’re a menace, thank you goodbye!” She says smiling and hanging up.

She slides her phone back into her pocket and looks up at you. “Sorry. That was my agent.”

“Oh yeah? What did he want?” You ask her.

“We have to go to a premiere next week.”

“We?”

“Yes we. And some of the cast from Secessus. He thinks it’ll be a good way to start talk about the movie.”

“Why are you upset about that?” You ask her, not understanding the whole story.

“I’m not. It’ll be fine. He wants me to go with my costar from the movie I just released.”

The spark of jealousy from earlier reignites in your gut. “Ah.” You say, not wanting to say anything else in case your voice betrays you and exposes the feeling burning in your veins now.

She sighs, “I get it, I do. We have to get people excited. But everyone already thinks we’re dating and this is definitely going to make it worse.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes.

“That’s not so bad is it? He’s handsome.” You say, beating back the green-eyed monster under your skin.

“He’s alright.” She says, glancing up at you. She sighs again and pushes off the car. “We should get back. It’s getting late.”

You nod and open the car door, hauling yourself into the seat. You decide to hide your feelings with humor and smile over at her when she starts the car.

“So is this like a dickies and t-shirt kind of premiere, or will I be safe in sweats?”

She laughs, and you relax, the tension between you breaking at last. “You can come to meet my stylist this weekend. He'll take care of you.”

“As long as he doesn’t put me in a sheer dress and ten inch heels, I’d be happy to.”

“Oh you’re so funny aren’t you? I’ll tell him to put you in a miniskirt if you keep it up.”

You make a zipping your lips motion and smile, settling back in the seat for the drive home. What a fucking day it’s been. You’re exhausted. You’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions all week and this day was the peak of what you could handle. You decide to call Nando over for beers as soon as you get home. He always knows how to talk you down.

You glance over at Jenna and you can tell her mind is whirring a million miles an hour, but you don’t ask her about it. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #vada cavell #tara carpenter

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

aita for “not being able to keep issues in servers separate”

🌻🌷🌹🥀 (to find later)

this all happened a couple months ago now in mid november-ish so i’m sending this late, but i didn’t want to while the situation was ongoing. for the record me and everyone affected have collectively since left both servers mentioned. so. wee

i (23mtf) do a long of long form roleplay, specifically in public oc-based discord servers. these are servers where people will create a setting and then people can join and insert their ocs into the world, and they’re tons of fun! this is a hobby ive had for years now. it’s really important to me as it’s my main creative outlet and i know a good number of people in the community. i’ll often join servers and recognize at least a handful of people there already

around may last year, i joined a new server and things were great, for a while, but then not long after i joined someone new did, i’ll call her X (34nb) for this. when she first joined the interactions we had were fine, but - and i’m still really not sure why this is, i’m not trying to absolve myself if i did do something but i have no idea what i did to warrant this shift even to this day - a few weeks later she just got… extremely passive aggressive and contrary with me, over silly things. most of it was “in character” but it really stuck out to me. i’d have a character say something marginally unconventional and she’d always, without fail, have one of her characters come in to scold them, even if her characters hadn’t been part of the conversation prior. her characters constantly talked down to or insulted mine. she was always talking ooc about how strange her characters found mine. when i tried to get involved in overarching plots, she would often push me out of them, or insist that my characters were only getting in the way, or would insert her characters to do things i’d stated to the group i wanted mine to do, so i didn’t end up able to do anything. it seemed targeted to me because the main character she was doing this with was known to be very kind to everyone else, but for some reason never had anything nice to say about mine. i know none of this is outright bullying but it wore on me greatly. i tried to confront her on this multiple times to tell her it was making me uncomfortable and to please knock it off, and i tried to get the server mods involved when that failed, but the behavior never really stopped and eventually i was content to just… not interact with her

but then a while later i noticed her treating someone else the same way. i reached out to him about it, and he told me that she had done basically everything she’d done to me to him, and he wasn’t the only one. after snooping around a little more i realized that a lot of people in the server had had this problem with her, totaling 7 of us. 7 of us in the group at the time. some people had dropped characters or outright left the group because of her, so 7 isn’t even everyone because it doesn’t include people she’d already driven out that i couldn’t contact. for reference, this server only had roughly 30 people. even if the number of total members was bigger, 7+ still feels like a lot

i tried to take this to the mods of the server again, but (and this is where i’m unsure if i misstepped) i thought it would be right to bring it up to the mods of a separate, larger server that all of us were in together as well. this server had closed to 50-60 members. in my head, if this person has harassed over half a dozen people like this it’d be silly to assume its only a problem in one group, and even if it wasn’t a problem in this larger server it would be better to make them aware of it so they could keep an eye out

the mods in both servers weren’t happy with me, through. even when all 7 people tried to give testimony, both teams claimed there wasn’t enough evidence to support harassment and that they’d talk to her about it, but this didn’t warrant any further action. keep in mind again i’d already had to go to the mods about this same person before, so they weren’t unaware that this happened to me and they had tried talking to her already. then they told me that it was inappropriate of me to bring this up in a server that wasn’t necessarily involved, and that the 7 of us were ganging up against her and bullying her. and i, especially, had been unfairly targeting her

this confused me greatly! i will admit, it’s likely i’ve been snippier with X than i intended. thats on me, i struggle with tone and i have trouble masking my frustration, but i have never once gone out of my way to make her feel bad. she has a generalized anxiety disorder or some such, and before i realized how many people had this issue with her i had been avoiding her for months. i have no idea what i could have said to her that was taken as bullying, because i haven’t been talking to her, period. when i see her in channels i just mute the channel until it’s passed, ive seriously done everything i could to minimize contact because i figured it was a personal issue. i asked both the mods and her directly, in dms, for examples or screenshots of what i said or did so i could adjust my behavior, and i never got shown any. i still as of typing this don’t know what i did to warrant that being said

the mods said they would give her a warning, but they gave me a warning as well, that if i continued like this i would be booted from both servers. they insisted to me again that i’d been clearly bullying her (did not provide examples) and i never should have brought it up to the other server and gotten them involved. i admit i think they might be right on that last point, but i am iffy. i had (honestly still have) justifiable reason to think X is an unsafe person to be around. she pushes people out of the community and cries and gets meek if she’s ever confronted on it in a way that’s distinctly guilt trippy and makes it hard to communicate. i have previously tried to resolve my issues with her in private and she was never receptive nor did she ever accept accountability, or change her actions. if her target calls her out she just starts doing it to someone else. it’s not like her being in a different server suddenly means she’s a different person. if someone like that is in your server, even if you don’t have “proof” that it’s happened in your group, wouldn’t you want to know about it? they kept insisting it had nothing to do with them and it was wrong of me to get them involved. i kind of think this is a cowardly policy to have, that you won’t act on or acknowledge harassment from your members unless it happens right in front of you and is blindingly obvious, but i don’t know

to be clear, i think X is an asshole, so that’s not what i’m asking about. anxiety disorder or not, she is frankly too old and has done this too many times for me to believe it’s unintentional. even if it is unintentional, she’s still hurting people and makes no effort to change. but i’m wondering if i’m an asshole for bringing it into another server. should i have just kept it in the first group?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thewertsearch · 1 year

Text

EB: why are you taking such an interest in my fashion, anyway? AG: Trolls are an extremely fashion-minded race, John. You should make a note of this, since you pretend to 8e a scientist or something.

We've been told the opposite - but we've also seen that highblood trolls do care about their outfits, so Vriska is only half-lying.

EB: laaaaaaaame. AG: Look at that! You counted out 8 a's for me, John! That is so thoughtful of you. [...] EB: i didn't even count. it just… EB: turned out like that. [...] AG: <33333333

John, please run. Vriska paralyzed her last crush.

GA: Ive Just Been Meaning To Say GA: That I Read Your Instructional Guide

It took Kanaya eight more chatlogs to bring up the GameFAQs guide. I guess when you're getting to know your crush, you don't want to cop to a parasocial relationship until you're sure it won't scare her off.

TT: Sorry to hear you were subjected to that. GA: Why TT: It was a little melodramatic in retrospect. Heavy-handed.

You're above all that now, though.

Right?

TT: Have you ever written a message you regretted instantly upon sending? GA: Lately GA: Almost Perpetually TT: That line included? GA: Wow Yeah Kind Of

I think it's called 'being thirteen'.

GA: At The Time Of Reading It Lent Some Useful Insight GA: Into The Nature Of The Game I Hadnt Yet Considered GA: And GA: The Author I Guess [...] TT: When exactly did you read it? GA: Uh GA: By The Way GA: What Are You Doing Here

What's so uncomfortable about telling her when you read it? It's not like you have to admit you idolized her.

I guess she just wants to change the subject before they get anywhere close to that confession. Kanaya started this conversation, but it's clear she's not quite ready to finish it.

There's something here, buried deep underneath the temple. It's enormous, and it doesn't match LOLAR's sparkleglitter aesthetic at all.

A secret dungeon? Her Denizen's lair? An egg?

GA: Are These Tactics Really Necessary GA: [...] I Thought Our Methods Earlier Were Effective GA: In Illuminating The Underpinnings Of The Game GA: You Ask Some Questions GA: And I Answer GA: If I Can

Yeah, but I never got the sense that the trolls really studied the game. Karkat was pretty dismissive about Sgrub's deeper lore, and most of his team lack Rose's analytical mindset. Terezi might be helpful here - and she did tell Rose she'd be back later.

I guess Rose could go for broke, and ask the troll who actually has the answers - but you'd probably get more insight from a brick wall than you would from Aradia Megido. Still, she might let something slip.

GA: But These Means Presently On Display GA: Are Making Me A Little Nervous GA: I Think Its Kind Of A Reckless Use Of TT: Of what? GA: These Forces

Thank you, Kanaya. Is it finally time to talk about this?

Rose is fully aware that an early-game Player isn't meant to be this strong. How much power is she getting? What are its limits? Under what conditions is it given, and what are the consequences for breaking them?

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s62 #2725

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strwberri-milk · 1 year

Note

Okay!! I got the perfect idea for the req 😈

Kaeya sending his wife!reader suggestive pics when she's at work and she gets very shy seeing it but ignores him bc she has to get work done. When she gets home he's in a very revealing outfit, he pins her down on the bed & only rides her strap to get back at her. He does praise her a lot tho and promises to reward her if she's being good & stays still. ofc its dom!kaeya and subby reader🤭 (im uncomfy with being degraded so i'd appreciate it if u keep that out in the fic) thank you <3

Please tell me what u think of this ask 💗

thank you for the request <33 i love this kind of kaeya sm and i hope you like this!! i gotta start working on some of my fluff for kaeya to counteract all the smut ive been writing recently lolol

Payback's A Bitch

Kaeya x AFAB, Fem Reader || Smut || 2 641 words

“And, perfect!”

Kaeya grins to himself as he scrolls through the photos on his phone. All of them present him scantily clad, eye hooded and hand resting delicately on his waist. His fingers toy with the hem of his sweatpants, pulling it in such a way that it begins to reveal the hair at the base of his navel while simultaneously outlining his hard cock.

He knows that his lovely little wife is going to absolutely love the photo he’s taken, sending it to you with a grin on his face. Thankfully, you’ve left your read receipts on so he can see that you’ve seen the message. He watches excitedly to see those little bubbles pop up on the other side, anxious to see your response.

All he gets is the slow passage of time and no response from you. It’s not like you not to respond – anything he sends you is usually at least given an emoji or something really sloppily typed. As far as he knows, you just merely glanced at it and didn’t realise fully what he sent because he had too many clothes.

He strips down a little more, taking off his shirt and eye patch. This time, his pants are pulled down far enough to see the beginnings of his shaft, poorly hidden under his boxers. Kaeya quickly sends that off, not expecting you to see it immediately yet no response.

At this point he tries a barrage of images, only to be left on seen. At some point you stop looking, not even when he sends a video. It’s clear to him that he’s being ignored, but unfortunately for you his cunning mind was not about to let that happen without any sort of retaliation.

“Kaeya? I’m home,” you call out, pulling your phone out again to read his very straightforward message.

Get ready and find me. Check the box at the door.

The box in question contains Kaeya’s new favourite strap-on. Your face flushes a little as you imagine a needy Kaeya at your feet, clearly worked up from all the photos and videos he sent you throughout your day at work. You’re not sure what he’s got in mind but you know that he’s got you all melted down in the palm of his hand, more than just a little desperate to feel his touch against your skin.

Quickly, you make your way up to the bedroom after doing as he asked, deciding that it would make the most sense to find him there. The door swings open, Kaeya sitting on the bed with a shit eating grin as he eyes the straps sitting on your hips above the waist of your pants, pulling you in by them and bringing you to stand between his legs when he sits back down.

“Can’t stop staring huh?” he purrs, loving the attention you’re finally giving him.

“I got all dressed up nice and pretty just for you. Don’t you like it?”

He brings your hand to run down his exposed chest, button up barely buttoned and tucked underneath the almost skin tight pants that outline everything on the lower half of his body perfectly.

You lean down for a kiss, lips slotting together perfectly and you think that he’ll just let the two of you take your time with each other. Your hands rest on his shoulder, expecting to be able to just hold him when you’re suddenly thrown down onto the sheets, staring back up at that smirk he had before.

“W-what are you doing?” you gasp, whimpering a little as he takes off your bottoms and readjusts your strap accordingly.

“Punishing you. I haven’t been sitting around all day waiting for you just to have nothing to show for all that effort,” he grins, quickly working to lube up the toy.

“You’ve spent all day ignoring me sweetheart, you really think I’m going to let you off that easily?”

Your eyes go wide at the sound of his words, letting him continue as you try to figure out what to say in response.

“So now because you ignored me, I’m going to ignore you. But, unlike your cold shoulder I will repay your kindness for all this but only if you behave. How does that sound?”

You know that he’s asking you for your consent right now, pausing in his preparation to see if you’ll try to tell him off. When you nod in reply his playful face returns, easily straddling your hips after removing his pants. He keeps his shirt on, only unbuttoning the rest of it as he slots your cock between his cheeks, his own twitching at the thought of finally having you inside of him.

“Anything else?” you ask him.

“Nothing. Just keep your eyes on me, alright doll?” he replies, words turning to a soft moan as he sits down on your dick.

Kaeya takes your hands in his, fingers tightening as he slowly begins to bounce on your lap, biting his lip as he sets his own pace. You do just as he asks, wishing he would let go of your hands so you could touch him more. The way he looks on top of you always sends a chill down your spine, absolutely enraptured with the way his gaze keeps yours as though the lewd sound of his ass smacking against your body and the bobbing of his girth against his stomach was something he wanted to show off. You’re sure he actually does want to show off, practically preening under your watchful eye as his pace begins to pick up, making the noises slipping out of his lips even louder.

“Fuck – your cock feels so good,” he sighs, throwing his head back to show you the delicious expanse of his neck. You’ve never felt the desire to kiss him more than right now you think, wanting to feel the way his throat constricts with his needy noises and hold his waist to help guide his pace.

Like this however, Kaeya’s got you right where he wants you. He can see the way you want him to give you your freedom back, the instinctive bucking of your hips into him to hit that spot inside of him that makes him see stars. The way your eyes linger on parts of his body isn’t missed by him, smirking as you bring them back down to watch the spot where your bodies join.

“What are you thinking about baby?” he starts to croon, leaning over your body with your joined hands to pin them down at the sides of your head.

“Thinking about how pretty I look sitting on your dick? Or how badly you want to wrap that sweet mouth of yours around my cock? You’re doing so good just being a toy for me, just sit tight and if you make me cum then I’ll give you anything you want, alright?”

“Yes darling,” you manage to whimper, heart stopping at the close proximity of his face to yours.

Your hands clenched into fists as he lets go of them, instead holding you down by your wrists as he begins to bounce in earnest. Quickly, you match his pace with your hips and fuck into him, making sure to pay close attention to the noises he makes as you shift your hips around. Kaeya’s a good teacher and you know you’ve found your spot when he almost collapses onto your body at the feeling of the blunt head hitting against his prostate.

He presses kisses against your neck, eyes closed in bliss at the feeling of you fucking him just the way he needs without even having to ask. He’s a little proud he’s trained you so well, knowing that your reward will have to be just as sweet. His hips eagerly buck into yours, pretty noises pressed right up against your ear, stuttered words of praise making you even more anxious to please him.

“That’s it,” he starts, cutting off his own words with a hearty moan.

“You’re doing so good for me. I knew you could fuck me just the way I’ve been wanting you to. Now, just sit still and let me do all the work, okay? I did say it was a punishment after all.”

He sits back up, this time taking your hands and putting them on his waist. When your fingers dig into his skin lightly he shakes his head, almost about to scold you before you loosen your grip to his approval. Once he’s got himself back in position, he gives you a wink before resuming his previous pace, fucking himself recklessly as he focuses solely on pursuing his pleasure.

You resist the urge to buck into him, wanting to aid him but judging by the way his cock throbs as it bounces against his stomach it’s clear he’s enjoying himself. Kaeya looks back down at you, letting his moans sound even lewder as he sprinkles in calls of your name, making sure the aggressive way he slams down on your hips keeps you pinned under his weight. You try to take your hand off his hips, wanting to grab his cock to add to his pleasure but as soon as he feels your grip falter he shoots you a glare, reaching for it himself as soon as you resume your grip.

“Look how hard my dick is for you pretty doll, it’s so fucking desperate for you to touch it. See how much it’s leaking? That’s all just for you darling,” he groans, hand moving up and down his shaft quickly.

“You’re gonna make me cum – fuck – beg me for it. Tell me how badly you want me to cum for you,” Kaeya pants, barely able to hold back his incoming orgasm.

“Please cum,” you whine, digging your nails into him – without resistance, thankfully – as you do your best not to squirm under him.

“I want you to cum, please,” you continue to beg, eyes unable to leave his body as he cums with a loud moan of your name.

He seats himself fully on your dick, now grinding against it as his cock fucks into his fist. You watch his cum spill over his hand, some of it landing on both of your remaining clothes. Kaeya’s hand finally slows, beginning to languidly stroke himself, prolonging his pleasure with a satisfied groan. He shudders lightly as his body enters the post orgasmic haze, getting off of you and undressing the two of you fully.

“You got another round in you love?” he asks, parting your legs over his waist.

“Only if you want to,” you mutter, not wanting to force him into anything after all the effort he went through.

“Of course I do. I told my pretty baby I’d give her a reward, didn’t I?’

Before you’re given the chance to respond you gasp over the feeling of his fingers teasing your soaked slit, knowing that the damp spot underneath you was purely from watching Kaeya enjoy himself on your body. He leans over and presses a kiss to your lips at the same time as his fingers enter you, easily giving him access to your mouth. His tongue slips in immediately, stroking against yours as he kisses you. You can barely focus on the way his lips and tongue move, more preoccupied with the lewd sound of your wetness being fucked by his lithe fingers.

You moan against his mouth, hips bucking into his touch as he scissors you open in preparation for his cock. You can feel it hardening against your thigh, wanting nothing more than for him to be ramming his thick length into you.

“You want me bad, huh,” he says lowly into your ear, rutting against your thigh as you arch into him.

“I was good, wasn’t I? So I get my reward?” you ask, getting your response in actions, not words.

His length sinks into you as soon as you finish speaking, bottoming out and only giving you a moment to adjust before he starts fucking you at his own pace. He still seems pent up from earlier, your moans unable to be silenced as your legs wrap around his waist and nails scratch down his back. Kaeya watches hungrily as your tits bounce wildly at the rough pace he sets, your warm and tight pussy quickly reminding him why he was so obsessed with it.

“You did so well for me, made me cum so fucking hard. You want my cum, don’t you? Want me to fill you up all nice so you remember who you belong to? Remember why you don’t ignore me when I work so hard to make sure I look good for you?”

“Yes, yes, thank you Kaeya – you feel so good – I’m so sorry for ignoring you,” you cry out, hips writhing in his grip.

“It’s okay sweetheart. I know you were busy but now I have this pretty body to play with, don’t I?’ he teases, bringing both his hands to tease at your nipples.

Your pussy clenches tightly over him, making it harder for him to fuck you but he doesn’t care. He gropes at your tits, practically using them as leverage at the same time as his hips increase in pace and strength. The way he slams home inside of you every time makes you see stars behind your eyes, sobbing when you feel his tongue beginning to tease one of your stiff peaks as a finger starts to circle your clit.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he breathes against your chest, reveling in the fact that you’ve been reduced to whimpers.

“Fucking me wasn’t enough for you, right? I know you were desperate to have my cock splitting you in two. You’re so cute.”

He licks and sucks on you, the feeling of the suction against your nipple adding to your pleasure as your lower core tightens in anticipation for your rapidly approaching orgasm. Kaeya’s pace falters as you squeeze around him so tight he almost can’t pull out, only getting rougher with his mouth and fingers as he feels the sporadic way your walls clench over his girth to bring you to that peak.

“Cum for me,” he growls against you, his words finally giving you that final push you needed to cum all over him.

Kaeya’s glad you came quickly, unable to hold back as he folds your legs up to your tits, hands bracing themselves against the underside of your thigh and exposing your pussy to him. His eye stays trained on the way your lower lips spread to accommodate his size, fucking into you like an animal as he finally cums inside of you. You can feel his seed shooting inside of you, whimpering and moaning softly as his slowing pace draws some of it out of you, shaking under his weight and the pleasurable feeling of your orgasm as he draws it out for the two of you. Your arm rests against your eyes as you catch your breath, feeling Kaeya pull out of you and press kisses against your thigh.

“Pretty baby,” he coos, pulling your arm back to press some kisses against your cheek.

“You’re such a good girl, I knew you’d make it up to me despite ignoring me all day.”

Kaeya wraps his arms around you, pulling you over his body as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Rest now, okay? I’ll be right here when you wake up. You deserve it.”

Kaeya’s warm words have you nodding, lazily pressing kisses against his bare chest.

“I love you so much Kaeya,” you mumble against him, brain much too murky to say anything more profound.

“I love you too,” he replies quietly, pulling your blanket over your bodies as he falls asleep with you.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic

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sucker4sixx · 9 days

Text

Raising hell

Pt.9

Plot: the end of things.. maybe

Warnings: fat shaming, aggression, punishment, smut

You wake up hungover and feeling low, everything nikki said the day before still on your mind as you watch him getting changed at the bottom of the bed, you watch the back of his head till he turns round, when his eyes focus of your face he smiles and crawls in beside you “morning angel” he cuddles you close, kissing your neck gently “nikki.. stop, we arent together” you squirm. He pulls away and smiles “not yet.. im going to speak to the guys today and tell them that i really do like you” he sits up, feeling sure about this decision “no.. dont, its for the best if we arent anyway” nikki laughs nervously “dont be silly darlin, ive told them to come to the room-“ “why?! So you can call me fat to my face?!” You snap, jumping up “no baby, listen.. i had to say that so they didnt catch on-“ “oh shut up, i dont give a shit.. look, we should go back to hating eachother.. its what we do best.” You brush your hair quickly, nikki sitting speechless on the bed as he watches you leave.

You pack your stuff and head to the airport, sitting silently in the cab that your whole band sat in, mel watching you like a disappointment mother. After the wait in the airport you get on the plane and thank god.. nikkis a few seats across from you but tommy sits beside you, smiling in amusement when he sees you “fatty! Hey!” He laughs “tommy..” you give a small, un-genuine smile. During the flight tommy eats half the planes stock and runs around like a child, shouting over to nikki who sits next to mel. When tommy goes to the bathroom mel sits beside you and scans your face “just spoke to nikki” she says, her expression unreadable “yeah?” You ask nervously and she nods.

“Youve ended things then?” You glance over to nikki who looks over at you both, looking more tired than usual “yup.. for the best” mel pats your shoulder “good girl, i knew youd grow to hate him again”

When you get to the hotel rooms nikkis not in the one beside yours but across, walking the same way and its silent, you miss having fun with him but after everything he done you couldnt bring yourself to look at him. That night the bands go out but all you want is to avoid nikki so you stay inside, having a bottle of wine to yourself but it doesnt give you the buzz you wanted, it makes you want to be held by nikki again so you spend the night crying in your room, missing his warm, soft body.

You wake up in the morning, disappointed you didnt get woken up to him knocking your door and begging for forgiveness, pushing past it all you get up and get dressed, going out for a walk. Although you get stopped every 5 minutes for an autograph you continue to walk, being away from it all really clearing your head before the show. You walk to the arena since it wasnt far, getting there before everyone else to do your makeup and get your stage gear on, wanting a few drinks.

When mötley crüe arrive with whitesnake (who were also touring with you both) they walk by you “hey fatty” vince smiles, winking “fuck off barbie” you spit back and they just continue walking. You wait at the side of the stage to watch whitesnake and get shoved out the way, nikki pushing you aggressively to get by. “What the fuck what that for!” He turns round “couldnt get by you” he narrows his eyes and keeps walking. Mel spots you shaking with rage after it just happened “hey, whats up?” You turn round, only seeing red “we need to fuck their set up” she laughs and moves in closer “easy there tiger, we dont want a law suit or whatever.. they can do that you know?” You shake your head “i dont care.. ive got the perfect plan”

Your on before the crüe but this time you dont pull nikki on the stage, after you wait unpatiently for your rival band to start, hiding behind the curtain that bunches at the corners of the backstage. Three songs in and your plan begins, you have scissors and find the cord for nikkis bass, counting to five you cut it and sprint to your dressing room, hearing the bass cut out if the live set.

You soon hear nikkis voice booming in the hall way, youve never heard him this mad so you pull out a magazine to act natural and hide the scissors. Not long untill nikkis bursting into your dressing room “you little bitch!” He screams “w-what? What are you talking about?” nikki stalks towards you and towers above you “dont act stupid! Why the fuck are you trying to sabotage me!?” He grabs you and pins you against the wall “im not! But im sure if i was it would be perfectly reasonable!” His grip on your shoulders tighten “you know, i never liked you but im just starting to realise how much of alittle cunt you really are!” You swing for him but miss, his eyes filling with rage as he grasps your fist, pinning your hands above your head. His manager runs around, frantically looking for him.

“I never liked you nikki! I never did!” You shout as he corners you completely, his face inches from yours “you sure liked me when i was 7inches deep in your cu-“

“Nikki! Get back on stage!” Doc shouts from beside you both, nikki throwing you across the dressing room and storming back onto stage to continue. Doc death stares you as he leaves your room and you leave the arena earlier than everyone else, before nikki can finish his set.

*BANG BANG*

You hear on your hotel door, you open it in your pj shorts and a crop top, expecting it to be mel but its nikki, looking like a bull who just seen red. He pushes by you and slams the door “ive fucking had it with you!” He shouts and pushes you back “get out of my room!” Nikki laughs angrily “no, no i wont!” He walks around and starts trashing the hotel room, smashing the vases and the tv into the ground. Nikkis ego is huge so when he’s humiliated publicly it sets him off badly. “Nikki stop! Your fucking crazy” “you embarrassed me.. infront of thousands of people tonight!” He stops for two seconds, stalking towards you. “Telling me like i.. give a fuck!” You push him backwards and he grabs you, shoving you onto the bed.

“Fucking stop it!” You struggle as sits down and pins you in place over his lap, he pulls down your shorts and smacks your ass hard as you cry out “bad girl!” He punishes you, youd be lying if you said it didnt turn you on but the force of his slaps made you cry. “Stupid brat.. stupid, stupid toy” he plunges two fingers into you, fingering you fast as you gasp and claw the bed, moaning. “N-nikki.. stop!” You kick your legs around, trying to squirm out of his grasp even though it felt so good. “Stop struggling. Take your punishment.” You give in and moan into the sheets, his two, large fingers slamming inside you.

“Good girl.. take it. You feel my fingers inside that tight little cunt?” You moan and nod “what about when i do this?” He holds his fingers still and flicks both of them against your g spot, making you jump and gasp “f-fuck!” “Language!” He shouts back, smacking your ass again, you whimper into the sheets.

When you cum he discards you on the sheets and stands up “i hope you learned your lesson” you reach up to him, wanting after care “nope.. bad girls dont deserve aftercare” he watches you for a few seconds before leaving your room.

@thebsttrashpanda

#Spotify #motley crue #mötley crüe #nikki sixx #80s #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx fanfiction

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naddpod-encounter-tourney · 1 year

Text

Reborn:

Truly what can one say about Reborn?

It begins, beautifully, with Hardwon getting a real chance to meet Lydia and explain to her what she means to him as a person, even without her direct influence on his life.

We then get the reincarnation. Almost rolling a gnome. Seeing melora again, getting tattooed. "I've been a half elf ever since I met you." The hammer taking hardwon back. The wrestling match. The fact that the audio was nearly lost to the ages, but Emily was able to recover it with a years-old forum post.

Entering Hill Home. Bev stopping to buy a comic about a cleric (Emily's cleric) to give to Erlin. Finding out that Erllin and Egwene have been off on their own adventures with Red and Gunther.

Bev’s devastating truth. Erlin’s natural, yet painful, reaction. Egwene reassuring Bev. Balnor’s reaction, making sure Bev knew this happens to people, and that things can still work out.

Moonshine meeting Lucanus. “Hey mom and dad!” Hardwon tackling Denny. Denny getting polymorphed into a boot because he’s just that weak. The conversation with Meemaw. The actual introduction to Lucanus. “A man who never thought he’d have a child, holding his child.”

Talking to Martha Toegold. The fact that she knows already what happened to Bev IV. Telling Bev about the tree in the back. “A Bestiary of Devils and Archdevils by the paladin Beverly Toegold I”. “Your father has given you an instruction manual on how to beat him”.

Every single goddamn thing in between. Goddamn.

Heart of the World:

The Boobs take the Stormborn to the Court of Gods. They write letters to their loved ones and put them in the contingency cubby.

After a bit of a difficult trek, they happen upon a wall where they can hear the wishes and prayers of the citizens of Bahumia. They offer a “We are here for you” in return, and are rejuvenated by the reaction to their presence.

Once they get close, they call their berserkers. Moonshine turns them into elephants, then summons pixies to make the elephants fly. The Titans of Bahumia fly into battle Thiala on elephants. (Murph is given the chance to leave Emily over any of that bullshit if he so pleases).

The battle with Thiala begins. She brings back Galad. Hardwon does 297 freaking damage in the first turn. 1,082 total by the end of the fight. Moonshine uses cantrips where they count. Bev takes on his own fungal form, and eventually casts a bonus action revivify on Hardwon. Balnor dukes it out with some angels.

They see what the mind of Thiala wants them to experience. I cannot do the flashbacks as much justice as @misslevel , so here are those comments on them from a previous round.

Thiala takes a second form. Uses Alanis and Ulfgar to harness their energy and make things worse. Tries to actually destroy Melora’s heart, holding the world together. Moonshine uses Handy Andy to steal Erlin, he’s freed from the gem, and able to help heal everyone. Bev, Balnor, and Hardwon keep swinging.

Nearing the end and fearing things will get so much worse (Balnor and Hardwon keep going down), Moonshine casts Shapechange and turns into a Gold Dragon. She eats Thiala.

The Titans of Bahumia return their divine heart fragments to Melora, as they were just borrowing it. They give Pelor his heart back, resurrecting him. They save the last one for the Dusk Mother, and give her rule over the one hells, renaming it The Ruby Dawn.

Old Alanis, the traveler, returns, and asks Balnor if he’s ready. He says tearful goodbyes and returns to his timeline, ready to destroy the hounds and save his village. “It’s okay, Balnor. I knew like all the most powerful things in this world, I was only borrowing you.”

We move forward in time. They start finishing off Akarot. Set up the ritual to destroy the Hellfire Crown. Hardwon visits his father in Kord’s Great Hall. Bev and Erlin get to be kids.

A year later, they return to Moonstone for the Jamboreen.

Moonshine reacquaints herself with the dragon she hatched and invites him to live with her at the Crick. Hardwon asks for the same offer, and it is given quickly. They read Balnor’s letter by the fire. Our story then ends where it began, in The Hungry Trout Tavern.

#naddpod episode tournament #naddpod #not another dnd podcast #bahumia

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babbygirlblues · 1 year

Text

A Fallen Facade (chapter five)

i.e. The One Chance - part V

The next chapter from the One Chance... sometimes things have to fall apart to build something new. (Smut in this chapter, alpha!Nat x omega!Reader)

5.7K

The One Chance (part i, part ii, part iii, part iv,)

18+ MINORS DNI

It’s been days since your birthday and there’s an awkwardness that’s never before existed between you and Natasha. You haven’t seen her since she dropped you back home. The car ride was quiet with Natasha seemingly with a lot on her mind and unwilling to share it.

You’ve been lying in bed most of the morning, and not used to so many days away from the red-headed alpha. Moping but have been the best word for it were you ready to admit that was what you were doing. You’d opened and closed her message line on your phone far too many times. Your fingers fly over the screen, clicking a simple message before pausing… it doesn’t feel right. It sits weird and you’re not sure why it’s suddenly hard to talk to her.

Hey! What are you up to? Wanna hang out tonight? I’ve got a craving for pizza :) :)

You slam down on the backspace button and delete it all, throwing your phone to the bed where it thumps and bounces to a dead still.

Your mother knocks on the door a second later, with her characteristically soft and impatient short successive bangs against the wood. Her nails scratch against the grain and your heightened hearing causes your spine shivers at the sound like nails against a blackboard.

“Mother?”

“I’ve got something here for you.” She says with her head wedged into the gap in the door.

“Oh?” Your chest lightens for a moment, still guarded but curious, “Come in, please.”

She comes through the doorway following a beautiful flowing dress held out in front of her. It brushes against her pant covered knees and she looks awfully proud with glistening eyes.

She presents the dress to you, “Here, my darling girl.”

“For me?”

“Of course!”

She holds the dress to the front of your chest and lets it drape down your torso.

She lines it up below your shoulders and clicks her tongue with approval, “Oh! It’s perfect.”

“It’s beautiful, Ma.”

“Try it on!” She instructs quickly, batting your hands onto the material.

“Okay.” You give in with a quiet sigh.

You slip the dress on, braless and then slide your track pants off underneath. Already it’s becoming exhausting trying to placate your mother. You just hope she’ll be happy with this so that you can go back to your own space, slip something more comfortable on and think about Natasha.

She shuffles back into your room when you call out to her.

Her hair bounces as she gasps, “Wonderful, just what I was looking for… God, I’m good.” She shakes her head, pleased with herself.

“Thank you, Mother-”

“Your father’s going to be so pleased.”

“Father?”

“Hmm? Yeah.” She mumbles, distracted with smoothing the hair around your forehead, pulling a few strands into place around your face. “Okay, clean up your hair a little and meet us downstairs in 20 minutes.”

“Wait, what? Downstairs?”

“Yes, you and the dress, downstairs and presentable in 20 minutes.”

“Why?”

She leaves without another word.

~~~

Someone knocks on the door as you’re stepping downstairs and you reflexively clutch the railing with a suddenly straightened back. Your parents are waiting by the door and from the corner of your eye, you notice that the lounge room appears set up for guests.

“Who is that?”

“Get downstairs.” Your father orders impatiently from the doorway.

You're on the last few steps when he swings the door open to reveal a young man under the archway. Your fathers palm collides with the boy’s with a loud slap that he uses to bring him into a half-hearted hug and he thumps his back in an exuberant greeting.

The boy looks up to you expectantly and when your father follows his gaze he waves you down the rest of the staircase.

“Y/N.” The subtle threatening gravel in his tone is too familiar and it makes you scuffle down the stairs until you reach them.

He straightens up, lifting his chin above you and says your name again, “Y/N, this is Dylan.”

You’re speechless and your father’s expectant gaze burns into the periphery of your vision. Dylan speaks up before you can stand there foolishly any longer.

“It’s a relief to meet you at last.” Dylan holds a hand out to you and you take it in greeting. He pulls it up to his lips for a wet, ghostly kiss against your knuckles, “You’re just as your father described.”

His leering gaze is almost intrusive and the surprise of your mother’s gift sickens into its place in the puzzle. He lingers over the low cut at your chest, where the delicate lace edges expose your neck and shoulders down to the tops of your breasts.

Your parents have outdone themselves. The coffee table is set with an assortment of expensive sweets and delicacies. It all feels like part of the sale, your autonomy and soul as the centrepiece and main attraction across from him on the opposite couch facing out the window.

You can’t help but halfway zone out from the conversation immediately as it starts. Your father’s voice smothers the conversation and you know that he won’t notice the way you’re mentally elsewhere. He asks Dylan about the family business that he’s lined up to join and the conversation turns to a list of boring accolades that fail to impress you in the slightest.

It’s ridiculous to even compare the two, but your mind starts its own game as a distraction from this hell. It starts with Dylan’s skin, he’s splotchy white, stained with an odd, dark shade of orange where a fake tan has obviously been liberally applied in amateurish, uneven patches. You think about the soft warmth of Natasha’s skin, dotted with a rare freckle and perpetually flushed a pretty pink with a glow like an angel. She’s smooth and silky, the skin at her neck always smells intoxicating and the delicate skin at the dip of her hips has become your favourite place to touch, run your fingers over and kiss. Where his hair is light brown and slicked back with an oily gel, Natasha’s brilliant red locks are as clear in your mind as the speckled green of her eyes. In every way Dylan seems to fail in comparison.

Your eyes continue to trail over his body and you pause at the way his thighs are spread wide on the seat taking up as much room as possible. You can’t help but conjure an image of Natasha’s thighs. Of course, you’ve seen her kick someone’s chest in, tumble down in a leg lock and choke a man out with her thighs. But you’ve also felt them. The strength, the heated smoothness of them when she pressed up, skin against skin, and grinded herself deeper into your walls. You flush at the memory and shift on your seat, awkwardly changing the crossing of your legs to try and adjust to the sudden wave of arousal stirring in your lower stomach.

Your father appears totally oblivious to the grimy look in Dylans smile, his teeth flashing your way on almost every possible occasion. It’s not the charming look that he imagines. You feel more like a new toy for a spoiled child on Christmas Day as he eyes you off like a prize.

The conversation drags on for over an hour, but eventually Dylan runs out of things to boast about, leaving your parents more than impressed, and you even more loathsome. Your own refusal to answer questions with more than a few short sentences leaves the conversation drying up to an awkward silence where your mother grows restless quickly.

“Perhaps a walk through the garden…” She offers, turning to you with an insistent look, “Y/N?”

“Sure.” You smile placatingly.

“Yes! A walk, alright!” Father jumps up, knocking the table in his haste.

“Er, perhaps just the two of them… darling?”

You see your father’s grin waver at the thought of you being left on your own to impress Dylan. Still, he pushes you out the door to avoid any disagreement.

Dylan follows half a step behind you like a shadow as you take him through the small creek that runs through the back of your parents' property. He talks to you most of the way out, repeating most of what your father had already asked. All about his money, his job, where he wants to live, how many pups he desires, etc etc.

The afternoon goes mostly the same way. He remains unconcerned by the fact that you’re not listening to a word while you hum and agree quietly every so often. That seems to be enough for him. You find yourself staring off into the sky as the sun starts to set. You’ve never paid such detail to the shadows of the clouds, the way blue slowly lightens and darkens into purple, pink, and then finally a brief flash of orange. The moment feels heavy with grief and acceptance all together, in your head you try to say goodbye to your dreams with Natasha. It’s hard and despite everything a small piece of you is strong and it clings onto her.

You set up a table on the patio, candlelight and a dining place for two. You’re mindlessly smiling at Dylan’s dull sense of humour when you hear the back door slide open. To your surprise, you see Natasha standing there, looking out at the two of you.

She steps out, aggressively planting her feet on the stone, her legs are bare in shorts that make your stomach ache but then she’s quick to stop herself. Still metres away, her ribs contract under a pretty blouse you’ve never seen before.

“Natasha?”

Her face drops into something stern and dead and your heart begs to replace that pain with her beautiful smile. She steps back away as soon as your chair squeaks and your knees push it back to stand from the table.

You chase her to the door but you don't reach her in time because she practically sprints back through the house. Her legs are longer and she’s far quicker than you. You stop at the doorway, heart pounding and a few short moments later you hear her car door slam and her tires spinning on the gravel out the front of your house.

Sea sick legs take you back through the house and outside to Dylan at the table. In shock you sit back down, automatically picking back up your fork where it lies limp in your clenched hand. Your mind is running a million miles an hour and a strange shock settles in your stomach that you can’t really comprehend.

Dylan smiles through a mouthful of food, “That beta looks totally in love with you.” He brings his glass to his lips and laughs like it's pathetically hilarious.

“She’s an alpha.” You mumble back, hardly finding it in you to speak.

That just makes him laugh harder.

“Oh that is too good!” He boasts. “When your father said the alpha’s in this town were pathetic, I couldn’t imagine it would be this bad.”

What’s the point in even replying? You can hardly hear him speaking.

“Excuse me for a moment.” You mumble across to him, picking your phone up from the tablecloth. Your eyes drop to the phone in your lap where your fingers typing furiously across the screen. You send her text after text.

Nat?

Hey, you okay?

You don’t really wait for a reply, 30 seconds seems like long enough, so you type again…

What’s going on?

I can explain everything here.

God! You think about that look on her face and it breaks your heart.

Are you alright?

In the absence of a reply, your mind starts to wonder, why was she even here? God, she looked so pretty.

Do you need something?

Dinner finishes and she still hasn’t replied. You can see that she’s seen the messages but not even a text bubble pops up to say she’s typing. You type again.

I’m gonna come over when I can leave.

Tash?

You’re starting to scare me.

Please, just tell me if you’re okay.

The evening drags on until Dylan finally bids you goodnight. Back under the arch of the doorway, you smile as politely as you can, secretly praying that he would hurry up and leave. His careless kiss lands at the edge of your lips, where his aim for your mouth gets cut off as you turn your cheek to him.

He’s slightly put off by your rejection, obviously not expecting it from an omega, he smooths both hands down over his hair, the crackly gel crunching under his fingers and he straightens up. You couldn’t care less if he’s angry with you, although you imagine he might be.

He clears his throat and for the first time tonight, he looks awkward, “I’ll text you, tomorrow sometime.”

“Okay.” You reply quickly with a nod, too impatient and careless to acknowledge the obvious weirdness of the exchange.

The second his car is out of sight you’re frantically unchaining your bicycle from the side of the house and wincing through the immediate discomfort of the sharp metal pedals cutting into your feet through the thin flats your mother gave you. You tear down the street with the wind blowing up your flowing skirt and it trails behind you like a silky flag, making you feel like you’re flying.

The road to Natasha’s apartment has never felt so long and yet you arrive quicker than ever. It’s turning into a cold night and you’re pumping your legs so hard that the damp sweat collecting at your back makes you shiver. As soon as you stop, the concrete footpath steals the warmth from your feet as you jump off the bike and walk.

You don’t bother ringing her bell downstairs, when you arrive at the gate you punch the code into the box and the lock clicks to let you through. You throw your bike at the fence and it clashes, metal against metal, in a jumbled bang.

Her flat is on the third floor, so you skip the steps two at a time, huffing deep breaths by the time you reach the top. There’s a soft glowing light from under the door and you find yourself hesitating before knocking.

You clench and unclench your fist, then with a deep breath you take a final step closer to the door and raise your knuckles to tap against the wood.

“Natasha?!”

You listen out for a sign of her inside but you can’t hear a sound.

“I know you’re in there! I saw your car in the driveway downstairs… I can smell you.”

There’s a heavy unspoken tension in the silence after you knock on her door again. Whatever unspoken line that existed between you has been blurred incomprehensibly and now you’re fumbling in the haze, too far gone to worry about your insecurities.

“Natasha, please.” You beg, “Can you just open the door?”

Silence.

“Are you upset about Dylan?”

Her voice breaks the silence, raspy on the other side of the door, “Why would I be upset?”

You realise how stupid that sounds, but a stirring feeling in your stomach tells you that you’re right, “I-I don’t know… but I can explain everything.”

“Your bond? It’s to him?”

“What? Fuck no. He’s the stupid mate my father’s set up. He just showed up today.”

“Oh.”

You test the door handle and it doesn’t budge, the lock clicking and blocking you out. If Natasha notices, she doesn’t care and remains on the offensive.

“So you’re just going to mate with someone you don’t have a bond to?”

You sigh, “I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do.” She replies impatiently. She’s frustrated, you can feel it.

“What am I supposed to do Natasha?”

“Do something. Jesus.”

Her sharp tone cuts your patience away and now you’re angry when you speak to her. “You’re an alpha, Tash. And you don’t have a bond, you wouldn’t understand.”

It’s a sensitive topic and you immediately feel bad about bringing it up. You sigh remorsefully and let your head drop against the door, heart feeling so heavy it’s about to drop from your chest, cracking a few ribs on the way down. “This isn’t some mediaeval orchestrated wedding, but you know what my father is like.”

That makes her angry, with herself, you, the situation. It tips whatever remaining reserve she had over the edge.

“I’ve been bonded to you since I was twelve years old!” Her voice is hoarse and seems louder than it actually was. She might as well be screaming it from the rooftops, but even her croaky whisper through the door rattles you.

Your forehead lifts from its place against the door.

“I- What?”

You can hear her panting through the door, hear the shake in her breath, hear her hesitate before her feet shuffle over the carpet to the entrance. Your hands still above the doorway, spread out and scared to make a sound out of even the slightest movement.

The lock clicks slowly, heavily. She creaks the door ajar and you can see her red-lined, puffy eyes peeking out behind it.

“Tasha?” Your eyes are full of questions, you can feel them tumbling towards your lips but not one single one comes forward with clarity.

Her eyes flicker quickly between yours and she just nods her head, “It’s true.”

“I… how… when… what?”

You watch her smile softly, a tear tracks down her cheeks and gets lost between her lips, “Since the first day, the first time I saw you - it just happened.”

Your feet twitch on the ground, suddenly feeling incredibly unsteady on your legs.

“In class?” You ask breathlessly and confused, searching through your memory of every detail you can remember from that day.

She shakes her head though, “No. In the school yard, from the backseat of my Mom’s car.”

Everything about that makes you giddy and your most deeply held secret comes tumbling out of your lips.

“Jesus, Natasha! I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Is there anything more to say than that? You try to find the words. Sure, your bond took longer. It started off strong and then grew day by day as you learnt more about her. As you became friends, she let down her walls and you fell for her strength but even more so for her softness.

“Huh?” Her forehead scrunches up and she tilts her head in confusion. “You-?”

“Natasha, my bond… has always been to you.”

She steps closer, paused in front of you, her eyes unfocused and glazed over. She starts to scare you with her posture, motionless but so tense from head to toe.

"Natasha?"

"Why didn't you say something?" She whispers.

Fear, insecurity, friendship, losing you, my father, love…

You shrug miserably, "Why didn't you?"

She stays frozen in place and you’re unsure what to do. Her hair drapes down over her eyes as her head drops heavily towards the ground.

You step inside from the hallway and towards her carefully, approaching like you would a wild animal. Your hands softly reach for her stomach, above the waistband of her pants and you stroke the material there. When she doesn’t shy away, your palms press into her abdomen, fingers curly softly around the edge of her waist. The soft blouse wrinkles under your hands, it’s pretty with white and pink flowers in a dark red that looks so good on her.

You bend down to see into her eyes when she refuses to look up at you. A sad tear is tracking down her cheek and your heart crumbles.

“Oh, Tash.”

She shakes her head, the last bit of fight in her holds on for a second longer.

You lean on closer, your lips flutter like butterfly wings softly against the side of her jaw, light and unsure, timidly inching towards a bolder touch.

Her hand snakes up into your hair and she cups the back of your skull, holding your neck in place. Her grip is tight, soothing and she ever so slowly guides her lips down to yours. She kisses you heavily as she lays claim to your mouth. It feels like drinking water in the desert, like a cold glass after a deep sleep in the heat of summer. Her lips breathe life into your soul like nothing else ever could. The kiss is different to all the others you’ve shared. The relief and honesty seeps through it and you realise all the love you’d been holding back doesn’t need to be hidden away anymore.

She twists around you and with a quick, harsh breath through her nose she drags you into her arms. You stumble backwards, tripping over each other and Natasha reaches for the door behind you, pushing it as you get closer. As soon as the door closes behind you she’s on you. The door clicks closed and you’re seconds away from crashing into the door after it. Her body follows, pressing you up against the wood and this time her hand firmly cups the back of your skull and she cradles you from knocking your head.

“Oh my god.” You gasp and you can hardly get the words out, you’re half smiling, half heaving. Her strong fingers at your waist and the other hand in your hair is making you breathless. She presses her forehead against yours and you close your eyes to feel her close.

“Sorry, is’t too much?” She mumbles back against your lips.

You shake your head, “I didn’t say that.”

You encourage her, sinking into her arms and curling a leg around her waist. She lifts you at the crux of your knee and then grips high around your upper thigh.

When she reaches for your other leg, you jump lightly off your toe on the ground and wrap your legs fully around her waist. The determined and confident pressure from her hands holding you up in the air at the crux of your upper thigh and ass is making you melt further into her arms and tighten your legs around her waist.

“Bedroom?” She pants, the question sharp and demanding.

“Hmm?” You groan, watching her lips move but barely registering her words, “No, here.” You pant breathlessly, “Fuck me against the front door… I can’t wait.”

“Nat?”

She moans softly, mumbling against your lips as she sinks in for another kiss. You drop your jaw as she swipes her tongue against your lower lip and you suckle her penetrating tongue teasingly.

The pretty short shorts she’s wearing are delicate soft linen and so thin. As she grinds against your own pelvis, you can feel her instantly growing harder. One of her hands rips the zipper down and you think you hear something tear. She awkwardly pushes the waistband down until it’s hugging halfway down her ass and just low enough to free her cock.

She’s as magnificent as ever when you glance down to watch her fist her length out from her underwear.

“Fuck.” You mumble. Will you ever get over how beautiful she is? Doubtful.

She shuffles you higher in her arms, your thighs resting in the crux of her elbow and she easily angles your entrance towards her as you reef your dress up. She can’t see properly and despite holding you up against the door, she slides up against your entrance on the first pass. You reach down to rip your underwear out of the way and help guide her impatient thrust inside your cunt.

She gets right there, the wide tip edging at your slick entrance and she hesitates. You can feel the heat radiating off her, and the teasing pressure right between your legs. You moan pitifully, a desperate plea mixing with the pleasure of her body so close. It makes her hips stutter and you feel the muscles in her back tense as she holds back a violent reaction to your sound.

You arch back in her arms, head back against the door and look down at her, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m…I-” She mumbles,

“Natasha?”

“Not like this.” She mumbles, her nose traces down the column of your throat and she tucks under your chin at the shape edge of her cheek.

“What?”

She squirms slightly, dragging the pressure away from your entrance to brush up against the edge of your ass, and the breath you’ve been holding gets sucked from your lungs.

“I feel like I’m going to bite you.” She groans and it feels like a growl that she places at the base of your throat.

“Oh.”

You drop your head to her shoulder and nuzzle in at the crux of her neck

As her pulse thrums under your lips you gently bare your teeth to the sensitive skin, running the sharp and smooth edge of your incisors along her pulse. Ever so carefully, you take a small pinch between your teeth and delicately bite down. It’s not hard enough to break skin, nowhere near it. But it makes her fingers dig into your thigh and a raspy, warning purring vibrates from her chest. She pulls you closer and it’s a test of her self-control to stop herself from latching straight onto your throat in retaliation.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You whisper to her.

You present your neck to her by lifting your chin and tilting your head slightly to the side. It’s a submissive position but your power isn’t gone. She’s holding you up above her, looking up at you through her lashes and every feature of her face is so familiar - it’s home.

“I’m already yours.” You tell her.

She takes her time to latch onto your neck, just below your fast pumping pulse point and at the same time, she bites down to hold you in place and her hips thrust up into you. She moves with an aching determination, her teeth gradually getting tighter and her hips rutting relentlessly, working to get deeper inside your walls.

She’s tender and cautious but you still yelp softly when finally sheaths herself completely inside, sighing as her hips and thighs press up against yours. She lets go of the bite on your throat and you involuntarily whimper when it’s gone. It’s only a dull ache, Natasha inspects the red swelling from her mouth and some indentations leftover from her teeth, but it’s nothing permanent. She ardently tries to soothe the inflamed spot, soft kisses from her lips already starting to heal the mark. She rocks into you at the same time, passionately grinding into you against the door. The door lock thumps behind you, clicking against the metal and wood as the door slams into the frame.

You fight back a rising orgasm when Natasha keeps nailing a spot inside you that makes you arch your neck back and collide with the door. She keeps a ruthless rhythm until you fall apart with a climax that makes you moan. You reflexively bring a hand to your mouth, muffling the sound much to Natasha’s dismay. It feels too exposing to moan into her living room walls with a shared hallway right on the other side of the door.

As your muscles relax, you sigh in her arms and feel the way the muscles in her arm are working to hold you up. She must be getting tired, you think, and she’s way too eager to impress you to say anything.

“Nat.” You press a warm hand to her chest, gesturing for her to let you down to the ground. She lets you down from her arms and you seductively twist to face the door.

She caresses your hips in broad strokes, pushing your dress up over your lower back and she runs her palms over your ribs.

“Are you okay?”

“Take it off.” You tell her breathlessly.

She slowly pulls down the zipper at the back and you bend forward further to let the dress fall off over your head.

It drops to the ground at your feet in a shiny puddle and as you go to stand up straight, Natasha stops you halfway, keeping you bent at the waist. You reach for the door handle for some support in the position.

She steps up impossibly closer behind you and easily slides in to take you from behind. From this position it’s even easy for her to exert all her control over you. Everything is a frantic search for your pleasure and you practically hiccup with moans as she thrusts hard and slow into you.

“You’re mine now.” She says, and there’s an air of a question that stained the end of her breath.

“Yes.” You gasp. “I’m yours.”

She pauses deep inside you.

“I’m yours, too.” She admits quietly, “Everything I am, everything I have belongs to you. It always has.”

You can’t help but mewl at that, your omega purring at the omission. The sound makes Natasha roar and she starts pounding again, even harder, redoubling her efforts. Your toes curl painfully into the wooden floor as your knees tremble.

“Tash!” You cry out loud this time, Natasha hands gripping your free wrist tightly behind your back and you have nothing to muffle your moans.

You don’t ask her to stop, you're long gone into overstimulation but choose to wait for her to finally let go. After a few more hard strokes that make your stomach clench, you have to ask her.

“Why aren’t you finishing?” You mumble and then whimper softly, “P-Please.”

“I-I can’t!” She whines.

“Huh?”

“Y/N. I can’t cum inside you.”

Oh. It’s her skin deep inside you and you shiver at the thought of her claiming your walls properly. Everything belonging to her feels right, your heart starts to beat fast and you free your hand to touch her. You give her hand a squeeze.

“It’s ok. You can. Please, you can.”

She groans heavily, “I- hmmm.”

A few harsh quick thrusts into you from behind almost send you head first through the wall, but she drags you back on to her just as hard as she pounds into you. After the last one she lets go of your waist and pushes gently against the dimples in your lower back, pulling herself out with a wet pop.

She quickly fists her length, furiously jerking herself off until she orgasms weakly. She drops her hand defeatedly and looks hardly satisfied. You know that an orgasm outside your cunt isn’t very pleasurable, it barely takes the edge off. She stands there, foggy and tense, with her cock still swollen rock hard, denying her relief.

Your weak legs finally get a temporary relief as you slide down to your knees on the floor.

“Come’ere.”

“Y/N.” Her protest is weaker than her recent orgasm.

You raise an eyebrow at her, wordlessly commanding her closer.

She steps up to you, a very small sway to her hips that makes her length swing in front of your face. You don’t waste a second before taking her in your mouth and sinking as far down as your throat would let you. She’s got an incredible girth that gets caught, blocking your windpipe and no matter how hard you push, you can’t force yourself further.

Natasha’s hands shake as she places a gentle grip on the back of your skull and carefully starts to feed more of her cock to your mouth. Your hands clasp tightly to the back of her thighs and you pull harder, trying to make her thrust further so you could deep throat her.

She draws out first, dragging back against your throat and lips. It gives you a chance to breathe that you didn’t even realise you were missing. Every nerve ending over your whole body feels electrocuted with nervous, blissful energy.

She rocks back in slightly faster and you relax every muscle in your body, hoping that it will help as she spears deeper down your throat than before.

“Oh! Fuck. Holy fuck.”

She drags in and out a few more times, shallow and gentle. You can hear her panting in the distance with your own heart beating in your ears like a bass drum.

You keep pulling yourself deeper and in one movement, Natasha ruts forward harder than ever at the same time you push your lips forward and she plugs up your throat deep down. Your plump lips graze her pelvis, your fine nose gets smooshed against her hard lower abs and she twitches hard against your face.

She watches from above you through wide eyes at your own teary expression and her jaw drops at the sight of her cock bulging through your throat. Her hips hump uncontrollably against your lip,s, her alpha telling her to take, take, take, and seconds later she’s gasping as she spurts down your throat.

Natasha steps back on shaky feet and breathes your name quietly, “Y/N.”

You cough lightly as she carefully extracts herself, the first few gulps of air feeling a little strange in your throat. She caresses your jaw intensely and you can see a hint of guilt in her eyes. Even the subtle notion of discomfort from you is extremely painful for her, so she watches you carefully, intent on every detail of your expression. You smile at her, in a way you hope is reassuring, it doesn’t help that your lips are swollen red but the fact that she did that turns her on all over again.

As you stand back to your feet, Natasha drags you into a tight hold, her mouth instantly finding the small bruise left from her bite and she kisses it again. You imagine her placing a real mark there, cutting into your throat and declaring you to the world as hers.

“Can we go to the bedroom now?” She smirks.

“Please.” You whisper back.

She scoops you up with an arm under your knees and carries you bridal style through a short hallway to her bedroom.

#natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov #black widow x reader #The One Chance #wlw #writing #natasha romanoff x female reader

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tagthescullion · 4 months

Text

Il Minuetto della Ragazza

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: T

Summary: Bianca di Angelo is alive. Alive and upset, confused, desperate… Camp Half Blood lost her little brother, and there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to bring him home safe.

AO3 link

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII

Chapter 13: Trust

Federica had come back with the ambrosia and nectar by the time the girls had disentangled themselves from the rope and from each other. She was letting a dribble of nectar fall into Ludovica’s mouth, holding her head carefully.

Edwina was cleaning the blood of the unconscious girl’s temple. It wasn’t too bad, but it had been a nasty blow nonetheless.

Ludovica sat up a few seconds later, dizzy and babbling in Lombardo, from what Bianca could make out.

She kneeled next to her.

“Tranquilla, va bene. Stai ferma,” she whispered, putting a hand on the older girl’s shoulder.

Ludovica’s eyes, still dazzled, snapped towards Bianca.

“Maria,” she gasped, raising her hand to touch Bianca’s face.

“That’s Bianca, Ludi,” Edwina told her softly. She looked up and said in a louder voice: “Give her some space!”

Bianca was about to get up, but Ludovica grabbed her hand. She stayed like that, holding the wounded girl’s hand until the confusion cleared from her eyes.

“Scusami,” she said at last. “I thought– it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

On the contrary, Bianca wanted to argue. She was curious about that name. That memory she’d recalled when talking to Chris before she left the La Rues’ home. That had been her father, she was sure. He’d mentioned a Maria.

Was that her mother?

Did Ludovica know Bianca’s mother?

She had wondered if the girl had known her family, now she was almost sure. But how close had she been to Bianca’s mother? She’d mentioned she’d joined the Hunt after the Great War. Bianca wasn’t great with dates, but that was around 1920. How old had Bianca’s mother been then? Not too old.

Maybe around Bianca’s age?

Was that why Ludovica thought Bianca was Maria?

She wanted to scream out in frustration. She hated not remembering. She hated not even knowing what her mother had looked like. She didn’t even know why she didn’t have any memories of her childhood.

The Lotus Hotel had messed up with time, but were her memories all gone because of it too?

She wanted to cry, and sob, and pull her hair out until her immortal father came up from Hell to stop her, to answer her questions.

“Bianca?”

She jumped out of her thoughts.

Thalia had touched her arm, she was half-kneeling in front of Bianca, a look of worry in her pale face.

“Sorry,” Bianca offered.

Thalia shook her head. “You were lost in your thoughts.”

Bianca nodded.

“We have to leave,” Thalia said. “The girls have convinced the people on the bus that we’ve scared away the thieves.” She snorted. “I feel like some Old Western sheriff saying that. Anyway, better leave before we push the power of the Mist too far.”

Bianca looked to where Ludovica had been sitting.

She wasn’t there anymore.

It was only Bianca and Thalia, and empty nothingness around them all the way to the bus, at least fifty metres away, where the Hunters and the bus passengers were starting to board again.

The daughter of Zeus caught Bianca’s uneasy expression, her face turned sympathetic.

“It’s all right, I told them to go ahead,” she reassured her, her voice softer than Bianca had ever heard it. “It happens to me sometimes… I get lost in memories. It makes me lose track of time.”

Thalia got up and offered Bianca a hand, which she took gratefully.

“Is Ludovica all right?” Bianca asked.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Thalia said. “She’s got a thick skull.” She appeared to be debating something in her mind. “Why did she call you Maria? Is that what upset you?”

Bianca shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Thalia gave her a funny look.

“I mean, I don’t know why she called me that,” Bianca clarified. “It didn’t upset me. I just–” She sighed. “I still don’t remember much.”

“Maybe you’ve got another sibling somewhere,” Thalia suggested. She didn’t sound too sure. Bianca imagined if two demigod siblings of the same godly parent were a lot, three was unheard of. “Or she knew somebody you reminded her of.”

Bianca wondered whether she should be honest. She was still wary about telling Thalia the truth about her father. That would certainly change the way she saw Bianca. But the daughter of Zeus had been nothing short of kind to her from the moment they went to get her from Clarisse’s house. Hell, she’d even agreed to go to New York to find clues about her missing brother.

“I think she might have known my family,” Bianca told Thalia. “I think Maria was my mother’s name.”

“Maria di Angelo?”

Bianca nodded.

“If you want, we could try to find out more about her,” Thalia said. “There might be records, if she migrated here during FDR’s government.”

“Do you really believe so?”

“Why not?” Thalia ran a hand through her hair. “Most of it must’ve been digitised at some point. But if not, we could ask around in DC, if we’re ever there. That’s where you said you’d lived when you got here, right?”

“Yes, I’m sure of that,” Bianca said. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Thalia gave her a smile. “We look after each other here, whatever you need just ask, okay?”

Bianca nodded. “Okay.”

By the time they got to the bus, there were only a few people left to board again.

The mortals had all chosen seats close to the door, and were eyeing them with reluctant respect, or perhaps plain wariness.

From what Bianca heard murmured around, one of the Hunters had used that Mist trick Thalia could do —and Percy had unsuccessfully attempted— to convince the passengers that they were a group of students from a school specialising in martial arts and self-defence.

It wasn’t the strongest story she’d ever heard, and frankly, she wasn’t sure how well taekwondo would work against armed men in a motorway robbery. But the mortals were relatively on board with the theory, so she hoped they wouldn’t be calling the authorities on them. --------------------------------------------------------

Although she tried her best to control the speed of her heart, Bianca’s heartbeat didn’t manage to slow down in the ten hours it took to get to Denver.

Her mind was in turmoil, and at times, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

She wanted to ask Ludovica about Maria di Angelo. She wanted to tell Thalia about her father. She wanted to go to Chicago, where supposedly they’d get a safe way to get to New York. She wanted to already be in New York, so she could ask Percy Jackson what the absolute hell had happened with her brother. She wanted this stupid bus ride to be over because she was starting to feel nauseous.

At one point, she considered asking Ludovica right there, too tired to care if the rest listened to their conversation, but Ludi was asleep, and Bianca didn’t have it in her to wake her up after her injury.

“You’re looking well,” said Thalia when they were getting out of the bus into the station in Denver. “Very well-rested. So relaxed!”

Bianca huffed.

“Don’t worry.” Thalia gave her a dry smile. “We’re resting here for a bit. I don’t think long bus journeys are good for us. Half of the girls get queasy, and I attract too many monsters.”

That made Bianca curious. They were staying here somewhere?

She couldn’t ask, though, there were more people leaving the bus and she was clogging the door.

Once they were all off the bus, Thalia led them outside. She found a corner with little traffic and stood in front of the group.

The afternoon sun, not too golden yet, was behind her, giving her a halo that made her look ethereal.

“All right, ladies,” she announced. “I know many of you have repudiated my choice of transport.” She looked at Greta —Bianca saw the girl looked a bit green—. “I didn’t know so many of you hadn’t travelled much by bus before. But anyway,” Thalia added after a pause. “I have made an even more polemic decision: we’ll be staying at a demigod’s house tonight.”

The group broke into murmurs. Some relieved, some mistrustful. It seemed this wasn’t the first time one of Thalia’s choices was considered polemic.

“Boy or girl?” Asked one of the girls.

“Boy, but his sister’s going to be there,” Thalia explained. Some of the girls could be heard complaining. “Quit whining and move on, let’s not keep Malcolm Pace and Annabeth Chase waiting!”

She turned and began walking down the street.

“Can we trust Annabeth Chase so much?” Wondered Helena in a low voice to the girl next to her as the Hunters went after their leader. “I know she and Thalia were friends but…”

Bianca didn’t hear the rest of Helena’s argument. She had nothing against Annabeth. The girl had been brave when she’d fought the manticore; she’d —more or less— sacrificed herself for Nico and her.

“You need to tell Thalia before we get to the house.”

Bianca was startled. Ludovica had appeared by her shoulder while she was listening to Helena.

“Tell her?” She asked, but she knew what Ludovica meant. She was glad the older girl was talking in Italian, she didn’t doubt more than one of the Hunters could speak it, but it made them less likely to be eavesdropped on.

“Annabeth Chase idolises Thalia,” Ludovica said. “Whatever she may know, or suspect, she’ll tell her.”

“Clarisse told me she and Percy were the last to see Nico,” Bianca admitted. “Do you think they know about my father?”

Ludovica shrugged. “Children of Athena are clever. If she doesn’t know she might have guessed. It all depends on whether your brother showed his powers somehow.”

“Better not risk it, do you think?” Bianca asked. “Would Annabeth really tell Thalia something like that?”

Ludovica offered her a tense smile. “There’s only been two children of the Big Three gods ever since the war, decades ago. It’s hot gossip, why would Annabeth keep that to herself when your existence could mean a threat?”

Why do you? Bianca wanted to ask. But it wasn’t the right moment. She needed to have a proper chat with Ludi if she wanted answers.

“You think she doesn’t trust me?” Bianca wondered instead. Annabeth hadn’t spoken two words to her, she’d have no reason to suspect anything.

“I don’t know enough about her, but it would make sense for her to be wary of powerful demigods,” Ludovica explained. “Besides, Thalia values her opinion.”

“You think she could make Thalia mistrust me?” Bianca was shocked. She’d got the impression Thalia was okay with her. “But I’ve done nothing to her!”

“I’ve seen how her father deals with people who might become threats.” Ludovica had a nasty look on her face, clearly recalling some bad memories.

Bianca had no idea what Ludovica was talking about. She had no idea how Zeus dealt with threats, proper or potential ones, but it felt unfair to judge Thalia by his actions.

“She’s not her father,” she said. “I can’t judge her by what he’s done —whatever that is— and then expect her to be okay with my father after what he’s done to her!”

Ludovica tilted her head. “Right, you don’t know—”

But what exactly Bianca didn’t know would have to be added to the growing list of things she had to ask Ludovica whenever she could sit down properly, because at that moment Thalia decided to join their little chat.

For one terrible, awkward second, Bianca thought she’d heard the whole conversation, and was coming over to embarrass them by yelling at them in front of the rest of the Hunters.

Then she remembered Thalia didn’t speak Italian.

“You look upset,” she told Bianca. “Has Ludi been scaring you about the evils of demigod boys?”

“Hardly,” Bianca dismissed the idea with a hand gesture. “I mean, I’ve a brother, I know what boys are.”

Thalia snorted. “Malcolm’s okay. He’s Annabeth’s older brother. Besides, it’ll be good for you to meet her properly.”

“She did jump off a cliff trying to kill a monster for my brother and I,” Bianca said. “I should get her a thank you gift.”

“I guess she’ll accept you being nice to Malcolm as a token of your gratitude,” Thalia suggested. “Many of the girls won’t be too happy to be around him.”

Bianca acknowledged that with a nod. “I don’t remember him from camp.”

“He’s not a year-rounder,” Thalia told her. “You haven’t met him, yet. He’s all right, though, he looked after Annabeth when— For a while, anyway.” She raised her voice for the rest of the Hunters to hear her. “We’ll be there in ten minutes!”

Bianca took a deep breath.

“You look upset again,” Thalia noted. “For real, is something the matter?”

Her worry was genuine, and Bianca hated that there was a big possibility of Thalia hating her when she found out the truth.

“I have to tell you something.”

#i liiiiiive have a happy new year peopleeee #bianca di angelo #thalia grace #hunters of artemis #annabeth chase #pjo #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #pjo fic #mis fics #il minuetto #tagthescullion

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waywardsalt · 9 months

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how much does sonia matter to the story of totk

sonia... is certainly a character in totk, but right now i want to take a look at her appearances within the story and see just how much of an effect she actually has on the narrative of this game. i will only be looking at memories and actual story beats, things such as those floating tablets (idk what they're called i never bothered with them) will be omitted because they are entirely optional content and have nothing to do with the actual story, i'm only considering the memories and present events that most players intending to experience the full base story will see. (i'm not even sure if the floating tablets have anything story-relevant in them, anyways, from what ive seen its just world-building and little character moments.)

it's worth noting that i do like sonia, and i don't particularly think she's a bad character; i enjoyed her, but it's questionable just how relevant as a character she is to the story. i also have a generally negative opinion of totk and its story, so that might alter the way i think about this game and it's story. feel free to take what i say here with a grain or two of salt.

spoilers for a fair bit of totk ig

(post is extremely long yknow how it is 2,581 words under the cut)

sonia is definitely present for the story in the past; she is a comforting presence for zelda and a supporter of rauru. she has power over time (recall, i suppose), and is the queen of the hyrule that rauru has founded, and was formerly a priestess before meeting rauru.

before really starting, i want to bring up that the first time the public got to see sonia was in the 3rd trailer; specifically it is where memory 6 is edited, specifically making it appear that sonia, with her hand outstretched and glowing, is the one therefore shooting the beam of light in the very next cut. in reality, in the actual scene, rauru is the one shooting that beam, but i want to keep this specific edit made in the final trailer in mind, since i want to talk a little bit more about sonia's presence in the story in general at the end, because, again, i personally like her, and am admittedly frustrated with how the game and its story ends up using her.

i consider a character to matter to a story when they do something that impacts or helps move it along. for example, despite being very non-characters, i would consider the old sages to be important as they provide exposition directly to link and the new sage as well as bestow upon them their blessing and their secret stone. they have some kind of effect on the story and other characters and carry out a specific role. if you erased the old sages, you would be missing characters that provide more information to the new sages and properly mark them as their successors in the present. even though they aren't really fleshed out in any sort of way, the old sages play an important role in the central plot of the story. the story needed them to play their specific role in order for the game to progress and for the narrative to continue as intended. they do something to shape the path that the narrative takes, they have an effect.

sonia is a character who technically only ever appears in the memories. i'm completely ignoring her appearing after the final boss simply because she has no dialogue at all and its really nebulous what she and rauru even do. worth noting that she is not alone in that scene; rauru is present with her.

sonia is introduced in memory 3 and then is killed in memory 9, i'm also ignoring her, uh, cadaver in memory 10 for obvious reasons. sonia is therefore active in the world of the past for 7 memories out of the total 15 that take place in the past. sonia is alive for less than half of the memories. furthermore, of those 7, sonia only actually appears in 6 of them, memories 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 9, and has dialogue in memories 3, 4, 8, and 9, barely over a fourth of those memories.

noting when she appears and when she speaks is important, since because of the fragmented nature of the past memories, character dialogue is very important in knowing what they do and what information they impart. sonia has a purpose in the memories where she doesn't speak, but i'll get to those after looking at the ones where she does speak.

what sonia does in memory 3: she is the first to approach zelda and her touch is what wakes zelda up. sonia is much gentler with zelda, giving her her name and reassuring her that she is safe.

what sonia does in memory 4: she's mentioned by rauru to have a secret stone and likely used as the example of a secret stone holder due to her own time powers. sonia is the one who says that zelda has both light and time powers, and also says that she can also somehow tell that she and zelda and blood related. sonia nudges rauru for (i think) being a bit cold, and is once again the one to comfort zelda and provides her with a place in the past. she is gentle and patient with zelda.

what sonia does in memory 6: she has no dialogue, but is present to... i'm not sure what she and zelda do here, but i'll say that sonia is supporting rauru's magic with her own. she prompts zelda to join her, and reacts to zelda's magic, telling us that zelda is unusually powerful by comparison.

what sonia does in memory 7: she does absolutely nothing other than be specifically noted by ganondorf for having a secret stone as well as being a hylian woman that rauru took as his wife, and smiles comfortingly at zelda.

what sonia does in memory 8: she recalls a cup that zelda knocks over (the only the we see her use time powers), inquires about zelda's well-being, gives an explanation on how zelda could learn to use her time powers (as well as this being somewhat of an explanation of how recall generally works?), shes comforting again and brings up zelda's light powers, and is the one to bring up link.

what sonia does in memory 9: before the memory, she agrees to meet with the fake zelda (knowing that it is truly not zelda) and clearly planned with the real zelda to confront it. she is the one to point out that the fake zelda is... fake, and controlled by ganondorf, and then is killed after fake zelda disappears.

sonia, from then on, is not present in any future memories, and only ever makes an appearance in the present at the very end with rauru.

so. how much does sonia matter to the story?

she definitely matters as a supporter of zelda and as the one to truly help her feel comfortable in the past and gives guidance about her powers. she's the queen of this ancient hyrule and rauru's wife and a holder of a secret stone. these have relevancy to the narrative, but they don't mean anything in the long run unless they actually effect the plot. she supports zelda, but it doesn't really change anything major, just helps her feel comfortable until things come crashing down again. she helps zelda harness her time powers, which we really only see zelda use against ganondorf and presumably to collect the master sword (and considering that her time powers never show up again, i guess zelda transfers them to link), but zelda is already shown to have great power from the start, and we never actually see zelda training or even struggling to use those powers, she just talks about not quite understanding them, and the first time she uses them she clearly has great control.

sonia conveys the information that zelda has time and light powers, and that zelda is related to sonia and rauru, both of which are fairly important, but sonia saying zelda has these powers merely spells it out for us, it doesn't affect anything about those powers, and zelda being related to sonia and rauru does nothing except explain the origins of her powers. she brings up link in front of rauru, but rauru could've easily learned about link any other way, most notably from zelda herself, so sonia bringing this up just changes when rauru learns about link.

through memory 6 we learn that zelda is, in fact, especially powerful specifically because she is being compared to sonia, who expresses surprise, though, again, this changes nothing, it merely brings attention to something already present.

sonia is suggested to have caught on to the fake zelda's ploy and we can assume that she had a hand in setting up the 'trap' that she and zelda spring on it. she implies that she, while knowing, agreed to meet with it and set this trap with zelda. after fake zelda disappears, she is then killed and removed from the story, though her death motivates zelda and rauru and marks the shift from a tense peace to outright war with ganondorf, and her death is what allows ganondorf to get his hands on a secret stone.

in a sense, sonia does matter to the story. she conveys information for the player and for other characters' benefits, she is an important person in the world of the past, and her death is a major turning point. but... at the same time, sonia does not really matter to the story.

she conveys information that doesn't really change the course of the story. her biggest decided-upon action was done off screen and with supposed help from zelda (and perhaps even rauru) and the biggest impact she makes, the one thing concerning her that actually causes things to move along or change in the course of the story, is her death. a character's death doesnt necessarily mean that from then on they are no longer important to the story, but with sonia, she is completely out of the picture. she motivates zelda and rauru, yes, but that's not exactly the same as mattering to the story. either way, if ganondorf declares war after stealing a secret stone, zelda and rauru are going to fight back with the sages.

sonia's death matters to the story. sonia herself does not matter to the story.

sonia doesn't do anything. she talks, conveys information, comforts zelda and gives her little pointers, but not once do we see her do anything that matters in the greater narrative. nothing she does in the past has any relevancy to the gameplay the players experience, or the side of the story that concerns link. she doesn't play a role that further aids our protagonists asides from maybe helping zelda learn to use her time powers. any information she conveys could have been learned through other means, or otherwise wasn't actually important to the events of the plot.

the most we really see her do is lure out fake zelda, but even then, zelda is the one to actually act in retaliation of the attack, and the most sonia does in that one scene, aside from convey more information, is die. and it's the only thing she does that actually causes a development in the plot or matters in general.

in addition to this, sonia does not do anything alone. she is always related to another character: she comforts zelda, she's rauru's wife and queen, ganondorf kills her, she and zelda corner fake zelda, she supports zelda and rauru. nothing she does she does on her own, there is always another character involved, she plays an extremely supportive role and does absolutely nothing outside of that. she exists to give the players information, she exists to support and motivate zelda and rauru, she exists as a character for ganondorf to kill to prove his evil and steal a secret stone. she is not an independent character within totk's story. she doesn't matter to the story as a character because she is barely even considered an independent character within that story.

when we see her at the end, the one time she is relevant to the present, she appears with rauru.

you could remove sonia from the story and swap her out with just having her secret stone hanging around the castle somewhere and the major events of the story would not change. sonia being the queen and rauru's wife only matters because then her death can motivate rauru, and by extension, the kingdom. sonia being so tender with zelda only matters because then her death motivates zelda. sonia having time powers and being related to zelda only matters to explain why zelda has time powers at all. these qualities do not matter outside of these characters that she is always shown with. the only thing about sonia that matters to the narrative is her death.

and. i don't dislike sonia! i like her! i think she's a good character, she has a personality and manages to be likeable even though she is always attached to a separate character! but she has no effect on the present and doesn't do anything that is relevant to any plot points. and it's so frustrating to see!

she's a major character in the past, and yet is hardly important, has four scenes total where she speaks, and dying is the most important thing we ever see her do. the only effect she has on the present is that the secret stone that ganondorf has was stolen directly from her.

it's just... frustrating to see yet another female character exist mostly just to die and motivate other characters, to see a major female character's only defining traits be that she is kind and nurturing and motherly and you never see anything beyond that.

and i come back to the game's third trailer.

just with the fact that sonia is shoved in a corner and is yet another female character that does not exist independent of others in this story, that we see her use her unique power exactly once to rewind a teacup, that's enough to frustrate me. sonia could've been a much more important and impactful character, but the most important thing concerning her is her death, and not even in a 'haunts the narrative' kind of way- she dies, motivates others, and is never brought up again.

and yet, in the third trailer of the game, memory 6 is cut up and presented in such a way that implies this at-the-time mystery female character had shot that beam of light, and that she would therefore be a powerful character. nothing is done without a reason in fiction, and this applies to game trailers.

i just don't understand why sonia was framed in such a deceitful way in that trailer. i can understand misdirection for the sake of avoiding spoilers, but... when it comes to characters like sonia, who in reality have very little impact on the narrative in this way, it just feels... almost a little devious, and it's so frustrating to watch that part of the trailer that teased a powerful female character (not a new concept for the zelda series, either!!!) and then, when the game rolls around, all of a sudden not only is she not the one with that power, but she is merely supporting the male character with that power.

there's absolutely a whole thing that can be said about female versus male characters in media and video games just with contrasting that part of the third trailer versus the actual in-game scene.

and i just can't help but feel bad for sonia after all of this, a character who could've been an important figure in totk's narrative, who just ended up being a character defined by the moment they stop being relevant.

so... yeah. sonia doesn't really matter to the story of totk, and it's in a really frustrating way. though i have a generally negative and almost spiteful attitude towards totk, none of that spite or anger is directed at sonia- i really wish she had a better role in the story, and i think she honestly deserves it and i don't think anyone is at fault for being fooling into thinking she would be this important and powerful figure. there's serious potential just with the pieces the story does give us! it's just all squandered to make her exist for the sake of other characters.

this might've gotten a bit off-track from that i wanted to say at the start, but... unfortunately, sonia as a character doesn't really matter to the story of totk, and i really wish that she did.

#loz #legend of zelda #totk #sonia #totk critical #salty talks #fyi while i just skimmed the yt vid to see what memories sonia shows up in i just watched in 2x speed to figure out if she talks #so it was just kinda really funny despite a lot of the memories being just standing around talking #do yourself a favor and watch the cutscenes on 2x speed #i watched them in 2x speed bc i dont want to waste too much time on this fucking game but it was at least entertaining #imo sonia got done so dirty in this game. its the only one she exists in too which sucks even more #like when zelda/tetra gets fridged or whatever its like. we see her in other contexts at least but with sonia thats it. damn #this did start off bitter and angry at the game but just ended up kind of like. sadly upset at what was done with her #bitching abt totk #adding that one so this gets lumped in with my other totk salt posts but this one def has a different tone #off topic but man zelda having time powers was some bullshit that only mattered in the past and to give the play a rewind toy #and to allow for some plot stuff obviously. sonias fucking powers are more important than sonia is

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