#so expect . actually do not expect anything from me . but perhaps I will draw them more if I can get situation simulator 5000tm back on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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scholarly distractions | al-haitham.

✮ cw ; masturbation, fantasies, fingering + penetration, banter. gn + afab!reader (they are wearing a skirt), this is porn and nothing else 18+

✮ wc ; 1.1k

✮ a/n ; the word count of this is so stupid how did that happen.

"It's very pretty,"

Above you, Al-Haitham hisses. He looks a little annoyed with it actually. With you, in general. You quite like getting on his nerves, and you think it's especially charming to see that little ticking in his jaw when he's being a little dishonest about something.

He doesn't say anything to you. Shuts his eyes and strokes his cock in front of your face slow. You meant what you said earlier. It's longer than it is thick, and the head is a little flush and much darker than the shaft. His balls are tight, and there's a thick vein going along the underside.

And much like Al-Haitham, his cocky is pretty. He's well-groomed, but the hairs are darker downstairs. He looks good when he's turned on, all his usual stoicism melted off his features showing off the extent of his good looks. His expression is flush, bare chest heaving in the moonlight.

He isn't one for romantics. Or more accurately, he only seems to indulge your whims with a sense of obligation and not literal adoration. Perhaps not like the kind that Kaveh so willingly offers at least.

But, if it counts for anything - the way he indulges your whims (however absurd they often are) is very romantic to you after all. You were expecting more of a protest when you asked him to show you such a sight. It's your lover after all, all plain face and brutal honesty, wrapped up in a need for peace and quiet.

Yet, he's stood over your with his cock in his hand making himself feel good all for your sake. His thighs are flexed, muscled abdomen tense and groaning each stroke.

You feel yourself grow wet between your legs as you watch him do it so diligently. It's so like him.

"Haitham," You purr, before sighing a bit. He opens his eyes to look at you and you notice his hands slow considerably "It's pretty."

"So you've said."

You grin at him a little.

"Move your hand?"

He does, watching you through lidded eyes as you replace his hands. Yours are smaller than he is, you notice. It takes effort to wrap the whole thing around it. He's stiff, pulsating against the curve of your palms as you pick up the pace again. You bat your lashes at him, watching as he covers his face - deep groaning his chest.

"You're being awfully patient with me," You say, not hiding the teasing lilt in your tone "Do you favor me so much?"

"Quite the ridiculous question." He replies blankly. You giggle.

"You think so? I think it's quite reasonable. I wanted to hear your answer."

He scoffs a little, but it's not with any mal intent.

"And what would that achieve?" He questions back.

"Well, if you did adore me so much, I'd kindly ask you to take me just like this."

This sets him off just enough that he's pulling away from you. You let out a high pitched laugh as Al-Haitham repositions you easily, until your legs are spread and wrapped around his waist. Your skirt is pushed just over your middle, the damn spot in your panties becoming clear as day. You feel dizzy.

"Is that so? And if I said no?"

Your breath hitches as you watch him closely. His thick fingers digging into your hips, pulling your panties down your legs and tugging them off. He occupies himself this time, no longer holding himself back for your sake. His head dips down to your neck, teeth nipping against your ears before he kisses down your neck.

He parts your legs, hands rubbing against your skin until his palm rests on the apex of your sex. You feel your clit throb, a dull arousal drawing up inside of you until your hot. He wants you to answer his question, that becomes clear.

"Are you curious about how I take care of myself?"

"A scholars inquiries are boundless." He says flatly. And you laugh, feeling him smile against your neck.

"I would go to my room and touch myself. I like to tease myself a bit before. Till I get so aroused I can't stand it,"

You look up at his face, his usually unaffected posture gone. He looks hungry - awfully interested in your words no matter how much he pretends he isn't. He touches you gently, thumb brush against your folds but not where you need him.

"Go on."

"And when it all gets too much, I touch myself. Just my clit. And I think of all the dirty things I'd like a handsome man to do to me,"

This, you think, eggs him on. His thumb brushes your clit this time, rubbing slow and soft circles. You gasp, slight - chest arching up off your back. Al-Haitham leans into you, his voice is in your ear and it makes goosebumps spread over your whole body.

"Just any handsome man will do?"

He's childish for doing this, you think. This time, it's his fingers. They poke and prod at you, an intrusive feeling as your hole flutters. You can hear how wet you are as he pushes them inside of you, how you stretch slightly to accommodate both of them at the same time.

You gasp as his palm makes contact with your clit. His fingers rub against that soft part inside of you, pumping in and out until you're holding his arm to stabilize. You laugh at his smug expression momentarily, lost in pleasure as you both gaze at each other.

"There's a particular scholar, usually." You admit

"A scholar, is it?" He says with faux interest.

"Yes. I wish to distract him from his pressing work always,"

This time he laughs. Sat up on his knees, he brings you forward - his fingers stopping before he brings them your lips. He stares at you, eyes lidded as you clean them with your tongue - shameless. You're both at your wits ends. You're so aroused you think pushing it in might be enough to tip you over the edge.

You feel his cock as it pushes lower and lower, before he finally pushes inside. You let out a sharp inhale at the intrusion. A slight burn at the stretch leaves you clawing for him. He rolls his hips up, and you feel your pussy open around him. The skin on skin leaves you hissing, cock dragging along your walls the further he pushes.

Once he's buried to the hilt, he reaches his hand between your bodies and starts to rub your clit again slow to make taking him easier. You moan for him. Above you, he laughs - forehead pressed to yours.

"You excel at just that."

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #writing tag #<- not fond of spelling his name like that but those r his more used tags rip

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

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(seems like a good place to leave this) Billy edging you until you're nearly screaming, then handing you over to Stu, who overstimulates you until you're definitely screaming. Thoughts?

So you throw two of my favourite boys, my all time fave poly ship at me with my favourite kink ever and expect me to not write something for it? You would be extremely mistaken Anon. I have so many thoughts about all this and this is literally THE place to leave a thought like this. So let’s get into it.

—

Rating. Explicit. Length 2K. Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X AFAB! GN! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. Poly!Ghostface. Warnings: Dirty Talk. Edging. Orgasm Denial. Vaginal Fingering. Vibrator. Toy Use. Overstimulation. Hitting. Punishment Play. Pain Play. Begging. Crying. Forced Orgasm. Vaginal Sex. Billy And Stu Being The Worst/The Best.

—

A Battle Of Wills.

—

This is your fault.

At least that is what he keeps saying to you, continually tells you and reminds you, that this is all because of you. To quote him about ten minutes ago when you were whining, “If you’d just kept your mouth shut I wouldn’t be doing this to you.”

You are positive that he thinks he is making a good point but no one is forcing him to do this, he made this choice of his own free will and speaking of will that is how this all started. Claims over who had the strongest will, who could last longest in this scenario, and you are coming to realise that perhaps you were too confident, okay, not just confident, leaning more towards outright cocky and now you were paying for it.

You were just so sure that Billy wouldn’t be able to have the self restraint for this, you thought that being naked and below him, moaning and squirming, fully on display. You thought the feeling, the view, hell even the smell would draw him in and make him cave before you did, and yet, you were, fuck, you aren’t even sure how many edges deep at this point. Billy was showing no signs of wanting to slow down or stop or even release himself from his jeans, that smug look on his face, between your splayed legs, two fingers lazily pumping in and out as his thumb circles your clit as he asks, “How you holding up?”

Asshole.

You open your mouth to speak and his thumb presses harder as his fingers curl just so and it makes you let out the most pathetic sounding moan as opposed to any actual proper words and he laughs, “That’s not a real answer.”

Sucking down a deep breath, brows stitched together as you try to ignore the pleasure coursing through your tense body as you try to push out a response that won’t have him mocking you. The words that leave you sound rushed and strained, “M’ fucking fine.”

“Oh yeah, you totally sound fine.” Your eyes run down the length of your body to him, staring up at you with that look that makes you clench around his fingers, something he of course notices and naturally comments on, “I felt that.”

Before you could say anything else another voice is cutting in that has both you and Billy’s attention snapping towards the bedroom door, seeing Stu leaning against the door frame looking all too amused, “Now what is going on here?”

“A battle of wills.” Billy says before his attention is returned to you along with the quickening of his fingers once more, “Oh really?”

“Mmm.” He hums out as Stu pushes off the door frame and comes closer, his gaze feels predatory and somehow makes you feel even more naked than you already are in your totally bare state.

Billy hadn’t stopped and Stu watching now was adding to this, pushing you to the edge quicker, pleasure spiking at an alarming rate. He was watching every small movement and reaction with great interest, the way your chest rose and fell, the stuttering of your words when you try to speak, the hitching of your breath.

"Hi." He greets with a small wave, playful and totally him and you push out the response of, "Hey Stu."

The sensation rises, climbs, you are almost there, you are too keyed up at this point to do anything to hide how you approached that ultimate moment and thus he knew just when to stop, just when to pull his fingers out. He was cleaning them off, a groan against his own slick digits, revelling in the taste of your pure unfiltered frustration as you fight off the urge to sob.

Stu was beside the bed, hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side slightly, eyes roving over your sweat soaked form and he spoke again, “Soooo, name of the game is who can break first? He edges you till you beg to cum or he breaks first and has to fuck you?”

Still breathless you nod, eyes falling closed as you try to regain some composure, Stu snickers, “Musta really pissed him off this time. How long you been at it man?”

“Oh what would you say? Getting near an hour now.” He admits and you huff out a weak, “Feels like two.”

“And you still haven’t given in, it’s honestly impressive.” Billy praises and the warm feeling of pleasing him washes over you briefly before he says, “But I gotta get going soon, so let’s wrap this up, okay?”

“Shit yeah, it’s Wednesday, you got a class soon.” Stu said as if he just remembered and Billy grunts in acknowledgment as he was shifting on the mattress, you hear the nightstand opening, hear him rooting around for something and then it snapping closed again. “Yeah, but don’t worry, after I break em then I got a treat for you Stu.”

Stu points to himself with a wide grin as he lets out a pleased, “Ooooh, for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Billy is back between your legs and the bright flash of colour in his hand catches your eyes before the item he got from the nightstand is between your thighs and the sound of consistent humming fills the room. As soon as candy coloured silicone touches your overly sensitive clit your head is thrown back against the pillows, body is immediately taut, legs jerking from the sharp rush of sensation and the bliss hits like a ton of bricks, weighing you down, rooting you to the spot. Stu laughs as he exclaims, “Jesus, you’ve done a number on em. So loud!”

Were you being? You hadn’t even realised you were moaning until Stu pointed it out, long and low, curses and panting breaths and unable to stay still. It took all of two minutes for you to approach the edge, and that is when you break, that is when you beg at last, “Please, please, please, fu-fuck, I can’t take it, I can’t, no more, please!”

Closer and closer still, he didn’t look like he was going to move away, was holding the vibe just right on you and your eyes stay locked on him, still begging, still pleading, completely and utterly desperate, “Need it so b-bad, need to cum, please, please, M’ sorry! Just let me finish, let me feel it, please Billy!”

He had this look on his face, as if he was considering and that shift in his eyes like he might pull away again it makes you more frantic as your legs begin shaking. Your fingers are tugging on the sheets, back about to arch your volume increases, as if begging louder would make him listen. You were two seconds from tipping over, “Fuck, fuck! Right there, gonna cum, yes-”

That is the moment he turns it off.

You nearly scream, the heels of your hands press to your eyes and you want to break something, you cannot believe how bad this is, how in need you are as you fight back tears, laying slack on the bed and leaking an obscene amount you bite out, voice breaking, “You fucking asshole!”

“Awe, touchy, touchy.” He admonishes you for your comment by laying a firm smack down between your legs, the hit lands on your extremely sensitive cunt and the tips of his fingers catch on your clit and your legs respond to the rush of pain with a twitch as you yelp. He then tells you, “No one likes a sore loser.”

Somehow you restrain yourself from flipping him off but just barely.

You feel him shift again on the bed and your hands pull away, looking to see him tossing the toy aside and stretching, looking again, very fucking smug. “Looks like we proved who has more will power because while you-” He gestures to your still trembling form, “-are a fucking wreck who is practically crying to cum, I’m gonna get up and go off to class totally fine.”

He does just that, gets up and he pats Stu on the shoulder, “And I’m tagging Stu in who hopefully is in the right mood to help you out.”

“Seriously man, this is a great gift, our favourite slut already on the brink of tears and dying to get off? You’re too good to me.” Stu sounded genuinely touched and it makes you want to roll your eyes, the guy will take any chance to ham up a moment for a joke and take great pleasure in it, king of improv thy name is Stu Macher.

“What can I say, I’m a real generous guy. Have fun, I’ll see you two kids later.” A kiss pressed to Stu’s cheek before he is leaving, you are focused now on the tall blonde, a lecherous and sadistic grin splitting his features as he sing-songs out, “Bye Billy.”

Your body still feels weak, limbs heavy but you try to move back on the bed, get away from him but he is too quick, hands lock on your ankles and he pulls you down the mattress, “Hey, hey there’s no getting away from this sweetheart. I got no plans this afternoon and nothing sounds as fun as fucking with you does.”

His hands ran up your legs as he pressed onwards, “Don’t look so scared, Billy was the mean one today so I’m gonna be nice, alright?”

Why didn’t you believe him?

Billy was in no rush to get home.

Class was fine, he got a late lunch, and he was out of the house for around two hours, he wondered if you were both still going at it until he got into the hallway outside your apartment and he could hear you.

He unlocked the door, meandered his way towards the bedroom to find the door was wide open and you still spread out on the sheets and Christ even with the gag Stu shoved in your mouth you were this loud?

Turns out Stu’s idea of being nice was making you cum over and over again until you literally couldn’t fucking think anymore, forget about speaking.

It was nice to begin, the first orgasm had you thanking him, babbling with the relief the washed over you as you came with his fingers buried in your cunt and his mouth on your neck. It was still good when he didn't stop, merely slowed as he worked you up to and through your second and even enjoyable when he first picked up the toy for the third and fourth he wrung out of you.

But those happened over an hour ago and before he even got his pants off.

Now you were sore, exhausted and thoroughly cummed out, dried tracks of tears down your cheeks and forced to just take it as Stu worked on getting his own hard earned pleasure.

“C’mon man, haven’t we tortured them enough today?” Billy asked, Stu’s head jerked up, a look over his shoulder, a smile spreading on his face as he sees the brunette now watching the scene making him slow his hips, “Almost done, swear to God.”

Billy scoffed, a roll of his eyes as he started to come into the room, “Yeah I take you swearing to God real seriously.”

“What should I swear on to get you to believe me?” Stu was back to it, sounding a little breathless, a harsh rolls of his hips, one of your legs propped up on his shoulder, his hand near your knee as he fucked into you and his other hand holding that same toy Billy was using earlier to your throbbing and over worked clit. “A stack of your favourite porn maybe?”

He snorts out a laugh, a harder slam of his hips into yours and another broken moan tears out that he talks over, “You think M’ that sex obsessed? That I can swear on porno like it’s the fuckin’ bible?”

“Think? I know.” Billy sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand reaches out, sweeping some hair off your sweaty forehead, “How many times did you make them cum?”

“I had em keep-ing count but once they, ugh, couldn’t form words anymore-” Stu’s sentence stops with a moan, your body was forced through another brutal orgasm and you cry into the gag, it barely felt good, mostly it hurt, just painful clenching and flexing of your cunt around his cock plunging in and out of your abused hole. His pace was uneven, thrusts sloppy, he was going to cum soon, thank God.

Billy nods as he watches your body shake through the feelings Stu was forcing onto it, your eyes unfocused, drool down your chin, throat ruined from all the incessant moaning and crying and screaming into the gag, “Yeah once they start sobbing like that all bets are off, bet they aren’t even listening to this right now.”

“Ohh, you gonna want a turn after I cum in em?” Stu asked and Billy said, “I mean I didn’t cum earlier did I?”

Seems the afternoon is far from over and one thought breaks through your overstimulated haze, you have got to stop making bets with them.

#BHF asks #Welp I wasn't planning on it being all this but here we are #Billy Loomis X Reader #Stu Macher X reader #Poly!Ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #Enjoyyyy

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year

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hey i love your work and i was drawing our blonde king leon and i was hoping for a bit where he finds you singing his fav or your fav song

again i love your work and i really need this bc i had a bad day in school so far us gothic girls cant have a peaceful day in school no more

- Leon Kennedy x reader

I’m very sorry to hear that my love hope you enjoy <3

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Sunday’s were always peaceful, the type of days where you didn’t have to worry about anything, but then again Leon didn’t really allow you to worry ever, always reassuring you in any way he could, perhaps that’s why he splits the chores with you, he washes the dishes while you put away the laundry.

Leon loves helping you, loves feeling needed it makes him feel human, makes him feel normal.

He walks up the stairs after cleaning up the small pile of dishes from dinner, stopping about mid-way when he hears you humming a very familiar tune, he smiles as you start to mumble the lyrics trying to figure out how the song goes and he has to stifle a laugh behind his hand when he hears you start singing out the lyrics, you're completely in a world of your own.

He stands behind the bedroom door listening to you with a loving smile, still trying to suppress his laughter and he doesn't expect you to open the door so suddenly, jumping a little as a scream bellows out your mouth, you drop the laundry basket on the floor, hand resting on your chest as you try and regain your breathing.

“Fuck- Leon” you gasp feeling a little flushed with embarrassment, “Erm— how much of that did you hear?” You ask clearing your throat.

He laughs a little, “Almost the whole song sweetheart” he chuckles, and you go to throw one of the pillows at him but he catches it, obviously, with a smug grin on his face, “Well I didn’t say it was bad, I was actually enjoying the show” he chuckles and you groan out in embarrassment.

You cover your hands with your face and feel his fingers wrap around your wrist bringing them down, “You sound like an angel” he says and you scoff rolling your eyes, he goes to lean down trying, to steal a kiss from you but you’re quick to doge him, enjoying the playful offense that paints his face.

“Don’t do that— it's not my fault you got caught singing away in a world of your own” he chuckles his arms wrapping around you as he brings you closer into his arms, and you eventually cave in, “Think you should release an album” he whispers with a teasing tone, knowing he’s dancing on a dangerous line, and you use all your force to try and push him away but your attempts are fruitless as he holds you tighter.

"You're being mean" you mumble against his chest, and you can feel the vibrations of his pitiful laughter, his big hands rubbing the expanse of your back, "It's a good song- and it's your fault it's stuck in my head," you say, thinking back to the countless times Leon had played the almost addicting tune.

He hums in agreement, "Forgive me? he asks trying to look at you, he can see the teasing smirk that dances on your lips.

"Make it up to me," you say with a soft giggle, and he looks at you with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yeah, how?" he asks, hands against your hips.

"Finish doing the laundry" you reply and he can't fight the smile that plays across his lips, and he knows he'd do anything for you if you asked, that's why he says yes, and you watch as he folds the clean clothes humming the familiar tune.

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thedeathlysallows · 29 days

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Is It Over Now? (10)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: Red blood, white snow

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Aemond confesses Luke's fate. Aegon is a sneaky bastard. Sexual assault.

Tag List: @callsignwidow

"Be careful, my darling!" Laenor, your father, calls out in worry as you dash ahead of him. "Dragons can be dangerous."

"Not Vermithor! He isn't mean, he's just lonely and sad because no one understands him." You cross your arms and whirl around to face Laenor who simply sighs in the face of your five year old stubbornness.

"You look like your Aunt Laena when you do that."

"That's what grandfather says."

Laenor scoops you up in his arms and carries you the rest of the way to Vermithor's favorite resting spot: a large valley on the south side of the island. It's the perfect resting spot for him really. The size is perfect for the grumpy old dragon to rest his wings when he grows tired of the sky or his volcano.

That's where you happened upon him the first time. He was toying with some poor sheep before devouring it whole, and you could only stand and watch in awe. When he turned his massive head to meet your eyes upon hearing your shocked gasp you knew right away Vermithor was yours.

Your parents tried to argue with you, of course. They told you he was too old and you too inexperienced.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think Vermithor and Vhagar are friends? Mother says they're close in age."

Laenor chuckles at your question and says, "perhaps. Would you like them to be friends?"

You think for a minute, tapping your finger against your chin. "Yes, actually. I think they'd be very good friends. Maybe they'll even fall in love one day?"

"Maybe, my darling." Laenor puts you down as the two of you reach the top of the valley and kneels before you. You can see Vermithor just below watching you with an unspoken joy. "But for now I'm afraid you must wake up."

You frown. This isn't how the memory goes. "What?"

"Wake up, Aemma." Laenor's voice shifts and fear grips your heart.

"Papa?"

"Aemma, wake up!"

You bolt straight up in bed, pushing away the hands gripping your shoulders. Your heart thuds in your chest and your skin feels sticky from sweating in the warm summer air circulating your bedroom. Tears continue rolling down your cheeks. Aemond looks down at you with concern. You've been doing nothing but sleeping and crying since the coronation, and he isn't sure how to help you.

"Oh," you finally manage to say. "You've returned. How was Lord Baratheon."

"As stubborn as you'd expect." Aemond sits beside you, taking your hand in his. "I saw Lucerys at Storm's End."

You visibly perk up, desperate to hear anything about your family. "How is he?"

There are few people in Aemond's life that can read his expressions and read them truly. His mother, Helaena, and you. He knows he can't lie to you about what happened, but what else can he possibly say? Not a soul yet knows what happened between him and Lucerys because he couldn't have word of it getting back to you before he could tell you himself.

"Aemond?"

He flinches at the feeling of your hand caressing his cheek. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve you. You're too kind, too beautiful, too utterly pure for this world. He knows there isn't a possibility of forgiveness, but he can't live without you.

So Aemond takes a steadying breath and says, "there was an incident."

"What do you mean?"

"We departed Storm's End at the same time, but our dragons seemed to be under the impression it was a chase. Arrax attacked first and Vhagar followed suit. I tried to stop it, but neither dragon would listen."

You blink, drawing your hand away from Aemond's face. "Aemond, what are you trying to tell me?"

"Lucerys and Arrax perished. I never meant for things to get out of hand-"

The blood leaves your face and you're left with an icy, lightheaded feeling. "It doesn't fucking matter what you meant! My brother is dead!"

"He wasn't supposed to die!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, did you try telling him that?" The venom in your voice is almost tangible and you hope it's enough to burn Aemond. "Get out."

"Aemma-"

"I said get out!"

Rather than fight you, Aemond retreats slowly. "I'll leave you to mourn in peace, wife."

Just as you hoped your words burnt Aemond, his burn you in return. "Don't call me that."

"You are my wife. I understand you're hurt, but that won't change the truth."

You choke back a sob, saying, "please, Aemond. Just go."

"As you wish. I'll return after I've met with the council."

You want to tell him not to bother, but the words won't come. Nothing comes except the irresistible beckoning of sleep. That's what you'll do. You'll go back to sleep and maybe this time Luke will be there along with your father.

But sleep won't come despite the heaviness of your eyelids.

You toss back and forth miserably for what could be minutes or hours, you don't know.

In the distance you can faintly hear the door open and close. Footsteps approach the bed, weight dips and shifts on the mattress, hands grab your waist and turn you over, you bury your face in his chest and breathe in the familiar scent of Aegon.

"I sent Aemond to keep an eye on the City Watch as they train," Aegon explains as he strokes your hair.

You say nothing in return. You aren't stupid. You aren't naive. You understand exactly why Aegon keeps sending Aemond on all these various errands and it makes your blood boil. He still sees you as a toy to fight over, to win. Even in the shadow of your brother's death all Aegon cares about is using your body.

As if in silent agreement with your thoughts, Aegon's hand slips beneath the thin cotton of your nightgown to cup your sex. His lips, once soft and inviting, feel harsh against your neck now. You wriggle against him, trying your best to force him off of you.

"I want you to leave," you tell him. "Get out of my chambers and bring Aemond back."

"You can't mean that, sweet girl." Aegon grinds his hard cock into your ass, nipping at your earlobe.

"I do."

Before you can fight him further, Aegon flips you over so you're pinned beneath him, his eyes burning with rage. He grabs your wrists and holds them above your head. You can feel the heat of his body through your gown and you hate yourself for the way it ignites a fire in your belly. Aegon is the reason for your current torment and yet you still find yourself craving him in some way.

"You don't mean that," he repeats. "Never say that again. Not you."

Aegon hates the blank look in your eyes. It's frightening, something he's never witnessed before. You've always loved him the most. Always.

"Tell me you don't mean it. Tell me!"

"I'll thank you to get off my wife, brother." Aemond's hand grips Aegon's collar firmly, leaving no option for Aegon except to listen.

You slowly sit up as Aegon's weight leaves you. The brothers glare at one another. You're unimpressed by their pissing match.

"I would like to write to my mother," you announce. "No, I will write to my mother."

"You can't," Aegon says without looking away from Aemond. "You'll have no contact with your traitor mother."

"What could I possibly tell her that would be so damning? I know nothing of your plans, all of you have made sure of that. Let me mourn with my family."

Both men are silent and you know the answer before Aegon says it.

"No."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you

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princessfanonanona · 2 years

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Danny stares at the glowing sticky note sitting innocuously on his notebook.

"Mister Fenton," Lancer says, drawing his attention up, "since you seem to be so studiously staring at your notes, perhaps you know the answer to my question."

Danny blinks.

He looks at the note once more before looking up.

"Is it 42?"

The class erupts in giggles as Lancer sighs. "That may be the answer to life but no that doesn't answer my question. Miss Sanchez, perhaps you know."

Danny tunes out to pick up the green sticky. Glowing blue ink glitters as it moves.

A single hand may lift a stone, but many can move the boulder.

Danny flips the note over, and back.

"What's that?" Tucker whispers, leaning forward on his desk to be closer to Danny.

"Bewildering, I need to visit Grandfather I guess."

"The mysterious one that you never mentioned before the C.A.T.S?" Sam asks.

"Mister Fenton," Lancer walks over. "There is no note passing in my class."

"But I wasn't-"

"Wow Fentina, don't know how you didn't expect to get caught with something that bright," Dash laughs.

"Pass it over," Lancer holds his hands out.

Huffing a sigh, Danny passes it to Lancer.

Or tries to.

The note passes through Lancer's hand.

Lancer blinks.

Danny blinks.

Lancer grabs the note again, fingers passing through.

"Wuthering Heights!" Lancer frowns, trying once more. "I'm losing my touch."

Danny flips the note and wiggles it. The sticky note does not make a noise. It does glow brighter however.

Lancer grabs Danny's wrists to move the note around to see it better.

"...Mister Fenton," he stares at the glittery ink, leaning closer.

"...yes Mr. Lancer?"

"This doesn't look like it's English."

"That's 'cause it's not."

"How the fuck-"

"Language!"

"Does Fentoenail know more languages?" Dash asks.

"I bet it's some made up chicken scratch from one of his nerdy books," Paulina comments.

"This looks like cuneiform," Lancer says.

"Common mistake, it's actually Akkadian," Danny corrects before slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Isn't that that dead city you were complaining about at lunch?" Tucker asks.

"...no?"

"Convincing," Lancer deadpans. "Will you care to read for the class what your little note says?"

Danny opens his mouth and then closes it.

The note shimmers in his hand.

"Would you believe me if I said what note?"

"Now Mister Fenton, we can all clearly see…"

Danny opens his hand as the note fades into nothing.

"I don't have a note." Danny gives his best innocent smile.

Lancer and half the class gapes at him.

The bell rings.

Nobody moves.

Danny wiggles his fingers a bit, "Can you let go please?"

"Oh, yes, certainly," Lancer mumbles, stepping away.

Danny pulls his hand to his chest, grabbing his stuff with his other hand. "So uh, bye?"

Lancer makes no move to stop him as he leaves, Sam and Tucker hot on his heels.

"How did you do that?" Tucker asks, catching his elbow and spinning him to a stop.

"I didn't do anything," Danny puts a hand up in surrender, "It was written on ghost paper so it dissolved on its own."

"I know your parents are wack but ghost paper, really?" Sam arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You said it was from your grandfather."

"Yeah, it is-was, look can we just not do this now?" Danny glances over Sam's shoulder at Dash looking over the crowd.

Tucker follows his line of sight and starts moving again, hand still on Danny's elbow.

"Yep, we're moving," he says. "So about the ghost paper-"

"I dunno, they just use it to leave notes on my stuff," Danny says as they duck down a hallway.

"So it's not one of your parents' weird inventions?" Sam asks.

"No," snort, "Definitely not. If it's not a weapon, they don't want anything to do with it."

"Think he'd be willing to share some with us?" Sam's eyes are bright with an idea.

Danny looks over his shoulder to her and them ahead to where Tucker is leading them through the halls.

"You know, I think he might." He smiles back, "Are you guys free tonight?"

#danny phantom #dp phic #nobody knows au #for now #lost time #if you squint #nona writes

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writeshite · 1 year

Text

Puppy Love

Summary:

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace. “I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” You chuckle, “I should say the same; wolves are equally as captivating."

Pairings:

Robb Stark x Male Reader

Tags:

Targaryen Reader | Fluff | Smitten Robb Stark

Words: 2122

Author's Note:

I have not actually watched the show or read the books fully 👉🏾👈🏾 I know things, but most of my knowledge is sporadic and random; it'll be like 60% accurate, I think....in my defense, I want dragons, and I also want Robb Stark, so like what else am I supposed to do 💀. Also, sorry if the High Valyrian in here is shit; I'm very behind in my Duolingo course.

“The dragons have taken back the Iron Throne.”

Robb didn’t quite know how to react to the news; his battle had been for the North, and the workings of the other kingdoms and their squabbles had never immensely mattered to him as much as he knew they should. The ball had been his mother’s suggestion, correction insistence, “As king, you should set an example and get ahead of the other kingdoms.”

The Targarayens arrive on dragon back - each on a separate one - the beasts shake the ground when they land, thunderous roars echoing into the skies. Her Majesty, Daenerys Targaryen, is poised, expression calm as she descends her dragon; another figure follows behind her - the Queen's Hand Missandei - the other dragon rider, steals more of Robb’s attention. Expression perhaps more joyful, you appear rather ill-equipped for the weather, furs less than satisfactory in Robb’s opinion. Your attire appears snow-touched, with little color - a touch of red on the collar of your coat - and dragon detailing on the lapels. Your silver locks are platted back in a simplistic rider’s style, held together by an intricate golden band.

Your company trails behind, arriving just moments later. Robb is accompanied by his mother, Sansa, and Arya, the latter of the three stares in awe at the dragons. Robb picks up a bit of conversation as you approach them, dying down when you come to stand in front of them; the words are of another tongue - High Valyrian, he thinks. “Your grace,” he greets, “welcome to Winterfell.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” she gestured to one side, “you know of my wife and hand, Missandei,” Robb nods, and she gestures to you, “and my cousin.”

“A pleasure,” you greet him.

Robb had yet to follow etiquette, and in the spirit of that, he responds to your greeting and awaiting handshake with a kiss - placed on the back of your hand. Your skin trembles in the cold, cool to the touch; he rubs his thumb along it in an effort to create some heat. The purple of your eyes was entrancing, deep pools that drew his gaze easily. His mother’s cough draws him back; her disapproving and mildly irritated glance is counteracted by Sansa and Arya’s amused ones. The servants lead you to your temporary quarters, and Robb’s linger on your retreating form; his mother’s lecture drifts elsewhere in his mind, barely settling before it’s tossed aside by the glee of seeing you once more at the welcoming banquet.

Winterfell was colder than you expected.

The invitation had seen no hurried response - with the rebuilding of King’s Landing, a new Dragon’s Pit, and many other matters - coming to Winterfell had primarily been driven by the need for a break. You rode on Morghon, Daenerys, and Missandei rode on Drogon, with Rhaegal and Viserion following and a company of Dothraki followed from the ground. The cool weather had been the first thing you’d noted, the second being the admittedly attractive King in the North. He donned a thick fur cape overtop his attire, a ringlet crown surmounted by iron spikes, and three wolves at the central front.

“Dubāzma,” you shrug at Daenerys’ warning tone; you hadn’t done anything; you simply glanced at the man.

You counter such, “Eman gaomagon daorun, ivestragon zirȳla Missandei.”

Missandei shakes her head, amusement in her tone, “Iā bughegon isse suvion iēdar kostilus,” she jests.

You shake your head, and the conversation breaks off as Lord Stark welcomes you to Winterfell. Daenerys responds with light introductions for both Missandei, then you.

“A pleasure,” you say once introduced, hand held out, ready for a handshake. Lord Stark does something far different. Taking your hand, he turns it over and lays a peck on the back of it, causing Lady Stark’s eyes to grow wide in surprise and his sisters’ expressions to morph into grins.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replies, eyes locked on yours as he does so. His hand remains with yours for seconds longer, thumb caressing the skin, and when her ladyship breaks the brief haze with a cough, he leaves behind a phantom warmth.

The temporary chambers are cozy, readily warm, and stocked with furs; you set your luggage by the bed and don’t dwell too long on them - furs, a bed, fire, and comfort - as the welcome banquet requires far more attention. You replace your traveling coat with one more suitable for festivities - dark with gold embroidery and light fur trimming on the bottom. You exit the room to find Lord Stark’s figure leaning against the wall opposite, and a smile lights his face at the sight of you.

“Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?” you inquire.

“If you’d allow it,” he responds with a hint of hope. You chuckle and nod, drawing out a broader smile on his face. The hall is not as far off as you’d imagined; light chatter filters through the open doors as people mill into the open-spaced hall. Far from the entrance sits a horizontally set long table - the Starks on the right, Taragrayens on the left - the other tables line the sides, leaving the middle empty.

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the announcer declares, drawing attention to you both; he announces you next, “...of House Targaryen….” It had been your idea to drop your name of Velaryon, “...Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.” The latter of the titles stood more as a slight mockery, with your old life on the remnants of Old Valyria, those that had spotted you and Morghon had called you that in whispers.

You take the two remaining seats at the long table, Robb near the center, you near the edge, close to Missandei. The food is wonderful; meats, deserts, ale, and various Northern delicacies are brought to the tables - the honeyed chicken may well become one of your new favorites. People begin to mingle after the main courses as music fills the halls in steady beats; you follow suit at Lord Stark’s request to dance.

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace.

“I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.”

You chuckle, “I would say the same; wolves are equally as captivating,” your arms turn, both palms now against the other; he laces his fingers with yours, a cheeky grin on his face. You turn to circle in the opposite direction, the crowd around you filtering out as you remain fixated on each other. You draw back, hands still intertwined; coming back again, he places his other hand on your shoulder as yours goes to his hip. A few paces and you should separate from the other, turn to another person and carry on the dance, but you don’t, remaining in each other’s grasp as you drift across the floor.

The music changes and a joyful beat begins; the formality is lost as the crowd of dancers switches to more upbeat and expressive movements. Lord Stark tugs at your arm, head tilting towards the doors; you turn briefly to glance at the long table - Lady Arya is immersed in conversation with Daenerys; Missandei and Lady Sansa are the same; Lady Stark herself, however, appears to have swallowed a lemon, eyes glaring daggers at his Lordship. You return your attention to said man and allow him to drag you away from the hall.

Robb hadn’t paid much attention to his mother’s lecture; her words went in one ear and out the other; she wasn’t angry, not truly, merely cautious. The interest seemed mutual to some extent, though the matter of marital affairs would be complicated - gods know the Lords of Westeros would turn their noses high in disgust - his almost engagements had all fallen through when he’d paid them little mind.

“Robb Stark!” His mother’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “I understand your attraction circumvents what the realm would regard as suitable, but that is no excuse, do not trifle with him; we don’t need them setting our lands ablaze.”

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” Sansa comments after their mother leaves.

Robb purses his lips; a wise man would take the words to heart and cease whatever he was doing - even if this interaction bore positive fruit, there was no certainty it would be in the best interest of the North. Her Majesty could have him abdicate his throne in favor of moving into the Targarayen household, or she could disapprove of him and feed him to her dragons. Robb was a man of heart, the kind that intercepted the servant at your chambers and took it upon himself to escort you personally to the dining halls.

Your previous coat has been replaced by a darker one; golden dragon heads decorate the cuffs, and it sits tighter on your person, with the fur trimming at the bottom fluttering delicately as you walk. “Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?”

“If you’d allow it,” he responds, and gods, he hopes you would. He feels himself smile wider at your agreement, arm threaded with yours; the short walk to the dining halls leaves him ecstatic.

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the declaration echoes in the hall; brief glances become more fixated on your intertwined arms. His mother’s eyes squint, a frown on her face, “...of House Targaryen, Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.”

Robb thanks the gods; his mother’s seat is further from him; if looks could kill, he’s certain he’d have died at the entrance. “You’ve taken to my cousin quite quickly, Lord Stark,” Her Majesty’s voice draws his attention.

Her gaze is steady as she regards him, “I suppose, your grace, is that a problem?”

It’s no secret that certain parts of Westeros and their rulers disapprove of other attractions; Robb’s not quite sure where his father would have stood on the matter - he imagines him supportive - he knows his mother prefers he be less expressive on the subject. Queen Daenerys had been quite clear on her stance, disregarding the disapproval of her new laws and marriage, though that’s not to say she would like to have him as her in-law.

“Not as long as he is happy, and well,” she answers, “I have little family left; I cannot help my worry.”

There is an underlying threat to her words, and Robb nods in understanding, and it satisfies her enough to turn away from him. The food is brought in just after - honeyed chicken, venison pies, cod cakes, ale, candied bread - the music begins near the tail end of the feast. Some sway to the tune, conversations carrying in the air, as the music changes to something more befitting a dance. He stands and moves down the long table towards you, “Care for a dance?”

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip.

“I would agree; dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” Your arms meet in the middle, level to your heads, as you circle each other; even as the other dancers switch partners, you remain together. Up until the music changes and a less formal tune carries in the air, you follow suit, hand in Robb’s as he drags you from the hall. You stroll idly through the halls, hands held together and swung lowly and sharing idle chatter.

“What do you call your dragon?”

“Morghon,” you respond, “it means death, a fitting name. Would you like to see him?” Robb pursed his lips, and you chuckled at his hesitation, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of dragons,” you teased; coming to a halt, you tugged him closer, “certainly not after flirting with one.”

He can feel the heat creep up his neck and imagines his skin pinker at the moment, “What if he bites?”

“He won’t,” your graze drifts a little lower, “but I could.”

“Is that an invitation to your bed, my prince?”

“If you’d like, you could show me how warm the North could be. I’m sure a few hours of demonstration should suffice.”

“The demonstration will have to wait for another time, your grace,” his mother’s voice cuts in. You both jump apart, hands loosely held together; she grabs Robb by the arm, “I apologize for the interruption, your grace, but we have some familial matters to attend to.” His face pinches into a frown as his mother leads him away; he remains turned enough to send you a brief wave and a smile and is thrilled to see you return it.

End Note:

Hope you enjoyed this mess. Stay hydrated.

#robb stark x male reader #robb stark x reader #game of thrones imagine #shut up i want dragons alright #i am disregarding canon because i think he's too hot to die #and also cause there's like a few solid male reader fics i think and the rest aren't so here comes the petty dragon riding bitch #if you came here expecting canon accuracy go touch some grass this is fanfic we don't know the meaning of that word

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xjackjackx · 2 months

Text

Alan Becker Analysis: Hazard's Mysteries (Or Maybe I'm Overthinking???)

Ok so unlike this last post about Victim and Glasses Guy / "Agent", this isn't really me bringing anything solid onto the table (well besides one or two things). This is just me overanalysing random shit that frankly is likely irrelevant.

Anyways this post is about Bathroom Sign Guy aka Hazard aka Warning aka Sign, the gray pictogram mercenary from Animator vs. Animation VI, and why he might have a deeper role (prob doesn't).

Part 1 - The Overthinking of Minor Details

Ok this is the part where I'm 100% convinced I'm just talking stupid shit due to rewatching the episodes too many times, but eh.

Let's start off with something... relatively normal actually, which I saw pointed out by others. When Chosen attacks the mers with lightning, Hazard has this shit happen to him:

This is... frankly weird and idk what it means. When Wanted first came out, this and his movement made me think Hazard was a robot, but since then I started believing he's just a normal stick figure like the others. Besides, this whole series is on a computer so everyone besides the Animator is an AI lol.

So if he's not a robot, perhaps Hazard is connected to technology, and thus taking away the ship's energy took away his? That's the only other thing I can think of.

The second one was actually told to me by a friend, and tbh even in this whole post this might be the biggest stretch, but I still think this is worth bringing up. When Orange and Chosen return to the Outernet, Hazard is seen looking... somewhere.

(btw agent looks so stupid here lmfao)

The most likely answer is that he is simply looking around, like Agent and Primal - the cave drawing - are seen doing like immediately afterwards. But my friend did point out that it could easily look like Hazard is looking up - in which case, he could've possibly noticed Chosen and Orange, and then chose to not tell the other mercenaries until Agent notices them and thus forces Haz to intervene. Likely just huge overthinking of a one-off scene, but still.

The last one from Wanted is this shot of the Mercenaries in the elevator.

In this scene, Hazard briefly looks at Ballista - the pixel gremlin - and then proceeds to look away when the little guy stares back at him. Is it most likely them just finding the awkward elevator silence uncomfortable? Probably yea, but it could also be a sign of Hazard and Ballista having a rocky relationship - we see Ballista is pretty aggressive, so maybe Hazard is nervous around such a batshit crazy dude?

In "The Box", the first Hazard scene worth talking about is the first of his reactions to Victim's torture of Chosen.

We know he is a mercenary and a villain, so it should be expected that he's a cruel bastard, but still, falling asleep while watching torture is just another level. What kind of shit did Hazard see, or do himself, that he finds Victim's actions purely boring?

...and yet, just a few moments more later, Hazard has an actual reaction to Victim pulling out a lasso.

Now, the three dots - and thus, Hazard's silence of a reaction - could mean anything. Maybe he's still bored, just awake now. Maybe he's curious to see what will happen. Maybe he has actual standards. But it's still interesting to see that Victim's lasso got a reaction out of Hazard (meanwhile Ballista just crosses his arms, prob in curiosity or impatience, while Primal stays completely still - I'll get to their personalities later).

Similarly, Victim ordering Agent to clone him also gets a small reaction out of Hazard, his head jumping a little (I don't know how else to call it).

This time, it's definitely just shock/curiosity/surprise that Vic is doing something new, and/or that the Box lets you clone people, but still worth pointing out.

A long time later, we finally get something worthy of note from Hazard, that I actually find interesting. While the other mercs are too busy looking through Chosen's memories, Hazard notices Orange returning.

I feel like this was actually an intentional choice. Like, why make all the mercs focused on Chosen's memories, excluding only one of them - and it's not even the most important mercenary that's the big bad's right hand? Also, why is Hazard so far away from the other mercenaries? While I consider this whole section of the post just major overthinking, this one moment specifically is actually pretty sus to me.

Now, to close off this section, there is Haz's reaction to Super Orange.

Mainly, how he and Victim are the only ones who are inarguably scared/panicking. Primal just leans in like "de fuk", Ballista flinches once and then watches in silence, while Agent double checks on both the small and large monitor. Primal and Agent are confused, Ballista is shocked(? idk how to call it), but Hazard and Vic are the only ones with a true "OH SHIT" reaction. What this means? Idk, again this whole section is just overthinking things.

Thankfully we can leave the part where I talk meaningless shit and get into the parts that hopefully actually have a point.

Part 2 - Hazard and His (Lack of) Personality

Another part I noticed since Wanted first dropped (part of the reason why I first thought Haz was a robot) was that, compared to the other mercs, he has so little personality... which might be intentional.

I mean, Agent. He also doesn't showcase a lot of himself, but we still see that he's cool, calm, loyal to Victim, kind of a taunting asshole who plays with his victims instead of instantly getting serious, and despite it all, not unbreakable - He panicked when Chosen attacked him with the iceberg, and he was caught off-guard by Super Orange like everyone else.

Ballista probably has the most personality out of everyone. His body language shows emotion pretty much all the time: most specifically, anger. Whether it's his fighting style, his pose, or walk cycle, Ballista is pissed off 24/7. It's implied it even makes his co-workers nervous. At the same time, the grin he flashes when jumping off the ship in Wanted shows he enjoys his job.

Primal is second only to Hazard in lack of personality, but there's definitely still something there. Mainly, is that he's a very fight-focused person that is basically an empty shell outside it. He's so ready to fuck up a rhino in Wanted, and sharpens his spear for another hunt while bored, but outside of fighting Orange?... he's pretty dull. Only a bit more emotional than Hazard. He seems like a Kraven-type character who just wants to hunt the biggest prey possible, while having zero life outside it. Also he has a Hulk-style form which reduces him to an animal sapience-wise.

Hazard, though? He uhh... he wants to get Chosen, is very focused on completing the job, and that's kinda it. He's such a blank it feels intentional. Perhaps he has his own goals and is hiding them?

Part 3 - He's Either Holding Back or He's Fucking Useless

Yea not gonna sugarcoat this. There has to be some sort of big reveal of Hazard's true power in later episodes, or this dude's so weak it's laughable to think he's supposed to be a threat.

I mean, Agent has a toolbar that makes him a Mini-Animator, and he can pause anything and anyone. Ballista can shapeshift his body and pull weapons out of his ass. Primal has a stronger form that can pick up a rhino without difficulty, and he probably has more.

Hazard?

He, uh... is good at dodging. He also has this one Shock Sign that killed a bird. Yeah.

Ngl if this is all Hazard has then it's impossible for me to see him as a threat on par with the other mercs, or even Victim. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to see him as above the Stick Gang in strength, with how slow Orange was in that scene compared to his fights in the AvM Shorts.

So yeah, on top of possibly hiding his true personality/hidden motives, Hazard was most likely holding back heavily in Wanted, which only makes him more mysterious.

Part 4 - The End

So, this is kinda it. Was Part 1 all overthinking, or did I get a few things right? Is Hazard actually hiding something, or does he only show little personality because none of his scenes let him show off anything? Is he holding back his true strength, or is he actually weak?

Frankly idk, but I am excited to see where things go with this guy, as he has tons of potential.

#animator vs animation #alan becker #ava hazard #ava mercenaries #ava the chosen one #ava victim #me overthinking things #because of course #but fr this dude has so much potential #so do the other mercs #i'm actually more interested to see them rather than victim in future episodes

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moonmaiden1996 · 2 years

Text

Claiming His Queen- Part 7

Sorry for the wait. Work has been hectic and disastrous. As always, please leave a comment!

"I must go to the waking for a few hours..." Morpheus’s velvety voice cut through the foggy mess of your mind.

You had a headache the past week, a dull ache that burrowed from your eye to the base of your skull. Despite the pain, you looked up and gave a strained smile. A frown tugged at the corner of Morpheus’s mouth as he looked at you through a fringe of ebony locks. In front of him lay the remains of an omelette half eaten. He made sure to at least eat a meal a day with you. It was nice even in the silence that lingered; it was comforting. It didn’t make the circumstances all the more normal, but Morpheus had tried. He had even filled the room with flowers made for you, just you. They were large fig-like petals stained a deep red that faded into white hanging over the vases. He filled every room with the sweet-smelling flowers, calling them "His heart". Mainly because Matthew told him it's what courting couples did. He was training.

A sigh escaped his lips as he stood, drawing you out of your ramblings. “Is there anything you require before I depart, My Dream?" Every time he would ask, and every time you declined but today, before you even really thought about it, the words had left your lips.

"I would like to visit the library." Your words seemed foreign to you; it was strange almost to have to ask permission.

‘’I had thought of taking you there after I concluded with fixing the Dreaming. I would very much like to give you the tour." he pouted, actually pouted.

"Perhaps you can join me after... take me on your tour when you come back.“ You almost hit yourself for how timid you sounded; part of you was excited to have some company; apart from Matthew, the days had been lonely.

Morpheus’s face broke into a rare smile; he swooped over and kissed the crown of your head. "That would be an honour. Till then, my love, I will have Matthew take you there before he joins me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Matthew guided you through the hallways and corridors to the grand library, so grand that it put every other library to shame. It went up at least several floors and across, you dared even to guess.

You were so in awe of the masterpiece in front of you that you didn’t see the dark-skinned woman dropping the book to the desk as she harshly pulled on her overcoat in a rush to meet you.

"…My lady..." a strange woman scurried out from behind one of the stacks, straightening her coat as she went. "Forgive me, My Queen... I did not expect you." She bowed deeply, remaining in the position gazing at the floor.

‘’Please stand up; you don't have to bow or call me your queen. My name is..." You whispered frantically, stepping closer to the bent figure.

Slowly rising, the woman cocked her head. "With all due respect, you are my master soulmate that makes you a ruler of this realm, and to call you anything else would be an insult.’’

‘’I’m not the queen. I barely know Morpheus."

The librarian frowned slightly and nodded, her kindly face so expressive in the light of the large window that dominated the room. "Then perhaps My Lady would be more appropriate... I am Lucienne, your humble servant. How may I be of assistance?”

Lucienne smiled as she took you through the lower parts of the library, declining to show you the rest in favor of letting Morpheus guide you through your private library. You didn’t know what to do with one, but it was a nice gesture.

‘’Matthew informed me of your preference for fantasy and crime fiction, so I have taken the liberty of setting some books aside for you to peruse along with some refreshments.'’ Lucienne bowed again as she herded you into a little nook by a bay window, looking out onto the gardens filled with your flowers, the red edges peaking out against the green.

"Thank you...but could you sit with me for a bit? I want to talk.’ you asked lowly.

"Talk with you, my lady? That's most improper." Lucienne hesitated, feet shifting beneath her as she moved before she sat in one of the empty chairs. "Talk, my lady? About what?"

"Everything."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The librarian fiddled with the cup and saucer as you poured the hot drink. You had expected tea but were surprised when out poured your favourite beverage. You had to fight to serve the woman the refreshments, but finally, she relented, and you poured her a cup and placed several cakes on the plate.

"My lady... I am unsure if I should be doing this," She started, easing herself to the edge of her seat.

"Is he so terrible? Are you frightened to even speak to me? Others in the castle won’t even look at me. I am scared...please." You pleaded.

The woman sighed in defeat as she relaxed against the armchair, abandoning the cup and saucer on the armrest. A still silence hung between you as you stared at each other.

"You know I was the first companion.’ Lucienne started lowly ‘’much like Matthew, though not so talkative’’ you laughed, and she smiled before continuing ", My Lord is not cruel, and I don't fear him, but my place is to serve him and now you. His methods are... archaic, but he means well... his passions fuel him, and you are his soulmate. I cannot give you all the answers, but I can aid you in your own discovery... after all, books are my domain." Lucienne stood smiling, making her way to collect your books before turning. ‘’He does love you very much. Please believe me, never in all my time have I seen him look at someone the way he looks at you."

"How does he?" you tightly rasp out.

"In adoring hope."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The refreshment had all been eaten and drank as you flitted through the books. You had to give it to Lucienne; with every passage you browsed, you understood the Dreaming a little better, but you still felt fear eating away at your heart. The Dreaming and its maker were ineffable. Throwing the book back in a pile, you leaned against the plush chair and listened. Lucienne could be heard scurrying around, the slither of soft leather books slotting back into place, vibrating across the room. All the books were helpful, but you couldn't help but feel she was hiding something from you; she was still Morpheus’s trusted servant.

Gingerly, you stood, wincing at every soft click of your shoes against the floor. You worked through the maze of bookcases, fingers tracing the rich filigree spines. Your ears keenly searching out for the Liberian’s footsteps you explored. Far in the corner is where you found it, hidden behind a billowing curtain. Several portraits line the little alcove, and underneath them are the names. Destiny. Death. Dream. Destruction. Desire. Despair. Delirium. Death was easy to recognise, her kind eyes shining at you. Morpheus looked different, hair much longer, but those haunting eyes were still the same. His siblings. They were dizzyingly different, so strange looking; the only family resemblance you could find was the sense of importance they seemed to exhume.

Burrowing closer in the little nook, your eyes scanned the books cramped into budging shelves in languages you didn't even recognise. Desire and Sodom. Death and the Great Plague. The Fall of Delight. You scanned till your eyes fell on a slim book of parchment. Morpheus and Calliope. Your eyes quickly scanned the pages, hungry for answers. You didn't even realise you were crying till you tasted the salt on your lips.

What a monster.

The screech of curtained rails being ripped back pulled your eyes from the text, Lucienne’s concerned face blocking the light.

"Oh, my lady..."

"He is married… He let...he did...does he do this all the time? Pray on vulnerable women and destroy them?" You spat, throwing the book across the wall, the pages fluttering through the air as it burst apart.

"No, my lady... that was a long time ago. Much has changed since then... you have changed him." She implored you, pulling at the sleeves of the dress, tugging at them as you barged past, the alcove suddenly too small to breathe in.

"Does that matter...” you gasp for air. "How am I any different from them? What will save me when he gets bored, or I defy him?"

"You wear his mark. You are the first soulmate to an endless... you are his hope...you are one; he can do nothing.” The librarian’s eyes were pleading as you scurried away from her touch, bracing yourself against the wooden shelves, not trusting your shaky legs.

"My dream...” Morpheus grinned as he swept in carrying a neatly crafted golden box, his step faltering as his eyes fell on the pair.

“Lucienne”, his voice eerily low as he took a dark step further; the beautifully gilded box clattered heavily on the floor as he loomed over you both.

‘’Stay away from me! Just leave me alone.” You yelled, turning on your heels and fleeing from the room, hearing the harsh voice of the god bellowing behind you.

"Lucienne! What did you do!’’

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

You were out of the palace, storming down the path; before you could ever be registered, you had escaped the suffocation of the palace's walls. It wasn’t till you were standing on the bridge when a wave of nausea passed through you; your mark protested violently as you moved. Its coldness had mysteriously been absent lately, and its sudden re-emergence was soul-wrenching. You only made it to the foot of the bridge before the sense of dread filled you, and your legs gave way. Crouching across the stone wall of the bridge, you let out a choked sob.

It was all too much. It was overwhelming. Everything was alien and strange; things like this didn’t happen in real life.

"Oh, little one, why so sad?" A sweet voice wafted across the way; an obnoxious pink hue invaded your overflowing eyes.

Dainty hands caressed your cheeks as skilful digits dabbed away at your watery eyes with her lace handkerchief. It smelt of bubblegum and candyfloss, sickly sweet. Travelling your eyes up to meet the figure’s gaze, your eyes were assaulted with a mass of pink ruffles and blonde hair. It was an actual princess, not like the ones in old Disney movies but the ones from the books, with clear skin and a teeth-baring smile.

‘’Oh, my little darling... tell me what ails you; no one should ever be unhappy here; this is the Dreaming where all your fondest wishes come true.’’ She sang, smiling down at you.

‘‘This is more like a nightmare.’’

Blinking slowly at you, she cocked her head, frowning at you for a moment before sinking next to you. ‘’Can I let you into a secret?’ she inched closer, her breath sending the scent of blueberries as she whispered into your ear. “I think… there is no such thing as dreams and nightmares.’ She scowled deeply, her forehead crinkling in displeasure at her thought, ‘They are the same; they are there to reveal a truth…that’s what makes them so fun or…frightening.’’

Staring down at the mark cascading across your palm and your arm. This nightmare was true; you were made the soulmate to a powerful ineffable being that day in the basement. The full reality of it all came crashing down around you; this man, being or thing, that was no more than a petulant, sweet, bewildering manchild, was entwined with you for all eternity.

A sense of dread filled you as you gazed up at the red flashes of lightning cutting through the sky.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Behind you, you could feel him closing in on you. You had slipped off the bridge and trudged through the wildness. The sky was now that familiar furious swirl of black and red. Morpheus was angry, clear to see from the sky, you knew you should turn back, but you were beyond the point of no return.

Pausing at the water’s edge, you panted hard, eyes scanning the gently lapping water. The water was foul and inky, made up of what seemed to be nothingness. You peered further and stared at it for the longest time. The water churned as it pulled you in. It was barren and lonely, like just being out of warmth’s reach. It was cold, that same cold you had grown so accustomed to, the way it had always been. Then there was the warmth of those steely grey eyes.

Morpheus appeared beside you in the reflection, eyes darkly burning into you. “My love...get away from the water…’’ he commanded in an icy tone.

"Morpheus?’’

The water swirled and shifted around you, its watery tendrils intertwining you both. The stickiness seeped into your skin, pulling you closer to the water’s edge as images morphed on the water’s surface, shimmering across the inky waves. It was you, but not you; your hair, eyes, and skin were the same, but it wasn’t. The thing moved along the surface as you inched closer to the edge, the distorted sound of your voice vibrating across the water. "How could I love you? You’re a monster! I would rather be alone for eternity than with such a cruel Lord. I hate you!’’ it screamed as it thrashed at the reflection of Morpheus.

"Enough", Morpheus growled, clapping his hand. The inky mass quivered as it retreated back into the water.

“What was that?” you gasped as his tight hold pulled you up against him.

“They are the dreams and nightmares...they have forgotten me, but they will remember and know their place and never cast their magic on me again’’ He growled at the water as it cowered in the safety of the riverbed.

“I am so sorry. I just...”

“Shhh, I forget...how fragile you are…’’ he cooed against the crown of your head. ‘I should have explained…what was before was fickle what we will be like nothing the universe has ever seen.’ He whispered against you, pulling you closer.

Your eyes fluttered up at him, his eyes darkened by the thick row of lashes that framed them. ‘But don’t worry, I am going to make this all better’ he purred, sprinkling his sand over you.

So the reader is a hot mess at the minute as she is a tad overwhelmed but don’t worry, soon all will be well…..maybe. I originally planned for them to be down and dirty; by god damn it, Morpheus is trying to be better, and he wants to give her time to remember!

I’m thinking some feral Morpheus is coming our way soon

I hope you enjoyed it. Please remember that my request list closes tomorrow. I will try to update you next weekend.

Question of the week- what does Morpheus have in his pants? It has been a question I have pondered a lot!

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pacifymebby · 1 year

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Hello! Can i request a peaky blinders x terminally ill reader. Like, they don’t want to fall in love with her because it’s like falling in love with a ticking time bomb that’s gonna leave them devastated, but she’s just so lovely they can’t help them self

So cause I'm not terminally ill and therefore can't write a totally honest view of what this would be like, im going to try. Some of them might not be 100% how u asked so sorry in advance.

Tommy

🌿 He can tell you're hiding something from him and the rest of the world from the moment he meets you, he can tell its something dark and sad, but he thinks that makes you just like him and so, if anything, it only draws him in closer to you.

🌿 He thinks you're beautiful, he likes to listen to you singing while you work down the market. He can sense that whatever your secrets are, they mean he should stay away, but even before he really falls for you he can't. You just drew him in.

🌿 I think in the case of tommy it would be you trying to keep your distance from him, putting up walls and trying not to let him too close. You don't want to hurt him, and you don't want to hurt yourself by dangling a future you know you can't have in front of yourself.

🌿 But one day Tommy gets fed up with all your defenses and kind of snaps, calmly, but still, he lets his frustration get to him all "Whyre you doing this eh darlin, its like I'm trying really, really bloody hard to get to know you but theres all these doors you keep lockin right in front of me fuckin face, every time i try to talk to you, another wall going up and up and up... Whyre you doin that? Puttin up walls eh?" he'd say it all so intensely, and so calm and soft by the end of it, so that you can see the affection and need in his eyes abd it breaks your heart...

🌿 And when you tell him whats really going on you expect him to leave but he doesn't

🌿 Because this is Tommy isn't it. So narcissistically obsessed with his own doom that if he'd really thought about it for a second he could have guessed that he was going to lose him. That any chance of happiness he had with you would be the temporary, doomed kind.

🌿 He kind of embraces the pain and punishes himself with it every day, but is also determined that you don't deserve this. Maybe he thinks he deserves to lose the love of his life as penance for his sins but you do not deserve to lose your life because some ugly man from Birmingham did some terrible things. So he'd be defiant about it, he'd love you anyway despite knowing he perhaps should try not to. He'd love you like pressing on a bruise, embracing the pain he's in whilst doing everything in his power to give youba good and happy life.

🌿 He won't leave you. He'll tell you he's not going to leave you, he'll make sure you're completely certain of that. "Its important to me darlin, that you know that right, I'm not gonna leave you, I love you and I won't stop just because of some fuckin illness yeah, i won't..."

🌿 Actually he'll straight up marry you. Even if you think thats pointless because you won't be around for very long, he'll insist that it happens. He loves you, he wants to marry you whilst youve the chance.

🌿 Blames himself for the illness, even though you were ill before you met him. In his head its like this... If you were fated to be the love of his life, then that is what doomed you to a premature death, because he needs to be punished for his sins. He thinks you were sent to punish him for his sins.

🌿 He won't tell you what he's doing but he'll keep searching for ways to heal you, things that could save your life. Even if he doesn't find any, he won't give up. He'll start fuckin praying again. He'll go sit in a church and break down, beg for your life to be spared and his taken instead.

🌿 But he won't let anyone see or know his desperation. On the outside he will mostly remain stoic.

🌿 And he'll want to take care of you every step of the way, when you're in your last days he probably won't want anyone else around, just you and him, him doting on your every need, holding you when you sleep. Always scared you won't wake up. Telling you he loves you, but more importantly showing you he loves you with every little thing he does for you.

🌿 You might try to make him promise you he'll find someone else and fall in love and have a family and all that without you and he won't mean it when he promises you that he will. But he'll promise you anything, say anything to keep you calm and content in your last days.

🌿 He won't let you see him crying, he won't be "weak" in front of you. He'll be so brave and determined even though his heart is breaking because he won't want to upset you. He'd want to preserve your happiness and comfort for as long as possible.

🌿 Rather than getting teary upset i feel like he'd express his emotions through frustration and take them out on other people. He'd probably be a lot less patient with other people, snapping at them and making rash careless decisions. His brothers would have to work extra hard to keep him "sane" and make sure he doesn't do too much damage.

Alfie

🐻 Is an "old man" well aware of his own mortality and of life, suffering and death. You're not the first terminally ill person he's met and he knows exactly what he's getting himself into by getting close to you

🐻 His friends warn him maybe once, maybe they ask him if he really thinks its a good idea, getting so close to someone who won't be around forever... But one look from alfie, one quick and cutting sentence is enough to warn them off ever asking again.

🐻 "Oh an i suppose you think you will be around forever do you Ollie?"

🐻 He's not naive, he knows its going to hurt but he's also not naive enough to believe then that it won't be worth it.

🐻 Because he adores you, your gentle ways, your soft beauty, your kindness, how sweet you are, all he ever wants to do when he sees you is hold your waist in his hands and draw you in close to him. Hold onto you and have you all to himself.

🐻 He loves you, to put it simply, and you, to put it even more simply, deserve love. Being ill, dying doesnt make you any less deserving of that love. And he has so much love for you.

🐻 "If I can't have you for as long as I live right darlin, gonna make sure you have me for as long as you live yeah, reckon that makes sense doesn't it, makes perfect sense to me poppet, yeah makes perfect sense to me..."

🐻 He'd be completely devoted to you. He'd spoil you rotten, he'd want to make sure you got to do everything you wanted to, see everything you wanted to whilst you were still able to. He'd piss everyone at the bakery off by taking all this time away, practically throwing his business away so that he could spend time with you.

🐻 Basically puts Tommy in this frustrating and stupid position where tommys no choice but to mind the bakery whilst Alfie is off with you

🐻 And then when you're really sick and getting weaker every day Alfie is by your bedside doing as much for you as he can. He doesnt want some nurse you dont know attending to you, he doesnt want you to feel alone... He only trusts himself to be able to take care of you and he probably does everyone else's head in telling them exactly how you like to be washed/dressed, exactly how to cook your food.

🐻 Much like Tommy he'd be desperately sad about whats happening to you, he'd feel his heart break a little more each day but he probably won't cry in front of you, he'll probably try to be brave for you.

🐻 Very short tempered with everyone else. He will cry but only when he's alone, honestly maybe in front of Tommy and only for a second before he composes himself again.

🐻 Writes a whole fucking opera about you as a coping mechanism.

🐻 Always wants to be holding you or touching you somehow, like hes scared to forget how it feels. Always holding your hand in his.

🐻 Likes reading you to sleep, putting records on for you. Writing music for you.

Arthur

🍂 Is devestated, can't put his feelings into words at all, can't cope with the idea of losing you.

🍂 Everyone warns him about falling for you but their warnings come too late because he already has and he adores you. He wants to spend his whole life with you and when it becomes apparent that thats never going to happen he is distraught.

🍂 He doesn't want you to live he NEEDS you to live, he can't accept things the way they are, has to believe you can survive even though deep down he knows you can't.

🍂 He gets so angry and bitter, not with you or at you but at the world and with everything else. He's angry at the illness for taking you from him, he's angry at the world for being such a cruel and unfair place.

🍂 Tries to turn to god, tries to pray, thinks that perhaps if he repents for all the bad things hes done or, if he begs god enough, he can trade with you, he can die so that you don't have to. Because "its fucked up isnt it darlin, that someone so fucking kind and good and pure can have to deal with this, whilst the rotten likes of me just go on living an fillin the world up with bad things"

🍂 Arthur doesn't have the self control his brother has, he won't hold back in front of you even if sometimes it would be kinder for him to do so. There are probably things you don't really need to hear about how cruel the world is, how unfair everything is, but he doesn't have a filter and sometimes when his emotions get the better of him he just spills it all.

🍂 He will cry in front of you, you'll hold him whilst he sobs into your chest and breaks down. Then apologises because "you shouldn't have to be dealin with this, I should be being the fuckin strong one.."

🍂 Takes a lot of his emotions out in the ring and they probably have to try and stop him from going there because the damage he will do with all these enotions coursing through him could be deadly.

🍂 He would get more and more unstable the more ill you got, unable to cope with whats happening. But he'd so desperately want to be a good husband to you. He'd beg Polly and his sister for help, asking them for advice. Polly would probably be his rock here, giving him advice, giving him a hug when he needs one, a slap and a shake when he needs to snap out of it and be there for you.

🍂 She'd help him take care of you, teach him how to look after you, how to be gentle when he's taking care of you.

🍂 At the point that you're too weak to get out of bed he'd lie with you or sit with you whenever he could, he wont give you peace talking to you about everything thats been happening, nervous talking too because he doesnt like the silence. But you like listening to him ramble about everything.

🍂 You also like the fact that no ones worried about talking of peaky business in front of you so you get all of the gossip.

🍂 He won't be particularly articulate but he'll tell you he loves you constantly.

🍂 Brings you little gifts of food and sweet treats all the time. Makes you food his mam woulda made him when he was sick as a child.

John

🌼 John seems so happy go lucky, laidback, still such a child at heart and you're drawn to him because of that. Admiring him from afar, falling in love with his laughter and that cheeky grin. Torturing yourself because hes something you just cant have.

🌼 You don't want to let yourself near him because you don't want to take that carefree nature away from him or taint him with the side effects of your illness, the stress anxiety and torment which seems to taint everyone you get close to these days.

🌼 But John has been in love with you since the second he laid eyes on you and he's determined to ignore your warnings about staying away from him.

🌼 As far as he's concerned you deserve to be loved, whether or not you have the potential to break his heart or not. Technically - and this is an argument he comes up with all the time - technically, everyone has the potential to break everyones heart, he could get shot and killed tomorrow before anythings even really happened to you. He could fall in love with some other lass and she could get hit by a car or die in some sudden accident. "Just because you're really ill flower, doesn't mean I shouldn't love you. Doesn't make you not worth loving... If anything it means you should be loved twice as hard now... I've got a whole lifetimes worth of love to give you so better not to keep stalling... "

🌼 His family think hes impulsive but he marries you almost imediately. Youre the love of his life and he wants to spend as much time as he possibly can being your husband.

🌼 He would want you to have the best possible life you could, even if it was only short so he'd take you travelling to see all the places you wanted to see. He'd help you do all the things you wanted to do before you died.

🌼 He'd do his best to keep up his usual ray of sunshine persona, still being boyish and charming, always teasing you, always trying to make you smile. Out of all the peaky men John is the one who treats you least like you're terminally ill. He isn't quite so obsessed with being careful with you or treating you like you're delicate. He lets you make the "I'm going to die anyway" joke sometimes when it comes to you doing unwise things like drinking/smoking or going for a ride.

🌼 He wants to keep you laughing and smiling for as long as he possibly can

🌼 When you get more sick and you begin to grow weaker he does struggle more, he doesnt like seeing you look so unwell, so in pain. He wants to be with you all the time but he doesn't want you to see him get upset.

🌼 He goes to Ada for support and she lets him hug it out or cry to her. She'd give him the love actually advice of "cheer up, no ones gonna shag you if you cry all the time" type of joking advice which is exactly what he needs to keep his head up and stay strong for you.

🌼 He too would want to be there for you and help care for you everyday even if he doesn't really know what hes doing. If he couldn't help he'd hold your hand and reassure you.

Bonnie

🍀 He's heartbroken when he finds out, naturally, no one wants the person they love to suffer, however

🍀 Rather than get too caught up in how long you have left together, Bonnie feels blessed just to have you at all and he's determined to love you for as long as he can.

🍀When he tells you this, "I love you little dove, all this love aint goin anywhere just cause you are, I'll love you my whole life I know I will..." "But you shouldn't Bon its going to hurt you so much, I'm gonna cause you so much sufferin an you don't deserve that..." "You don't deserve to be alone though do ye? And I'm tough dove, I can survive," he'd make a show of flexing his biceps to prove how strong he is and try to make you laugh.

🍀 Like John he's determined to keep you happy and smiling for as long as he can. He'll make jokes, he'll tell you how beautiful you are, how loved you are. He'll keep telling you all these things even when your light does begin to fade.

🍀 He spends as much time with you as he possibly can. Being a hopeless romantic he'll definitely want to marry you.

🍀His own mother died when he was young and his father's already been through this, Aberama would be a little torn, he'd want his son to be happy and so he wouldn't want him devoting his life to a woman who's going to leave him so soon, but he'd also want his son to be happy which means letting him devote his life to you.

🍀 Bonnie would try to be brave, he would try not to cry in front of you, and though he might not shed any actual tears, you can tell when he does want to cry, when he's upset his jaw tenses and he gets this far away misty look in his eyes.

🍀He wants to give you everything in the whole wide world but he doesn't have the time, he wants to make you proud of him so he's extra determined to win all his fights and train hard... But sometimes he also just, can't see the point? What does fighting matter, what does being the champion of the world matter when the love of his life is going to have to leave him so soon.

🍀When you get restless he wraps you up warm and takes you off on horseback to the middle of nowhere where the two of you can get some peace. He helps you bathe in the creeks and rivers, lies with you wrapped in blankets under the redwood trees.

🍀When you're ill he wants to be the one to take care of you, to nurse you, to help feed and bathe you. He won't leave your side for a second and he'll really piss Tommy Shelby off by refusing fights and refusing to work. He doesnt care if his life or future is threatened. Nothings getting between him and you now.

🍀 Sings for you whenever you ask, tries to make up little stories for you. Is still determined to make you laugh/smile whenever he can, even when you're very weak.

🍀 Always bringing you flowers and pretty things he finds for you outside when you're too weak to go exploring with him.

🍀 Holds you every night when you're going to sleep, lies awake listening to you breathing determined that you'll wake up again in the morning. Kisses your hair/forehead/temple and hands all the time.

Isaiah

🐀He loves you before he knows youre terminally ill and you're affraid to tell him because you don't want him to leave.

🐀Everyone can see him falling for you, he's not exactly subtle about it - and that fact alone means he must be falling really hard for you. He asks after you all the time, he's always abandoning his friends when he's out if he sees you, choosing to waste his time talking to you instead.

🐀And regretfully it's Michael who ends up telling him about your condition. When he finds out he does get scared. He panics and doesn't know what to do.

🐀He doesn't want to lose you, but he doesn't want to get too close... The problem is he already has feelings for you and he can't just turn them off. In fact he knows full well that even if he'd known from the second he saw you at the Garrison he wouldn't have been able to stop himself falling in love with you because you're perfect. You're his perfect girl and he would never have been able to ignore you.

🐀So he backs away a little, he tries to fall out of love but he struggles and, just as he was expecting he fails. If anything trying to pull away from you only makes him more certain of his adoration for you. He loves you. He's so sure of that now.

🐀You aren't stupid, you notice him pulling away and trying to seperate from you and though it makes you sad you're not surprised and you can't say you dont completely understand.

🐀 So you try to tell him that, you try to speak to him gently, try to tell him exactly whats wrong with you, roughly how long you have left. And he listens and tries not to get upset and does quite a good job, then when you say "it's alright Isaiah i understand... If you dont want to stay I understand..." thats when he gets upset

🐀 He gets angry, upset with you for not valuing yourself more, for accepting that someone might not want to love you. But mostly he's angry at himself because even this little argument is wasted time he could have spent holding you, kissing you, telling you how much he adores you.

🐀"No don't you dare say that, don't you dare pretend that this is fuckin fine or that you understand, I've been so fucking selfish love, you deserve to be loved and I don't fuckin deserve you because for a second I was too busy thinkin bout me fuckin self to think about you and what you need!"

🐀And from there on out hes unshakable and so stubborn about loving you, he spends as much time with you as he possibly can. He tells you he loves you like a hundred times a day.

🐀Michael and his friends can't understand whats gotten into him, he asks him one day if he doesn't think he's "wasting" his time and Isaiah has to try not to get angry. Because thats a cruel way of putting it even if thats not how it was intended to be.

🐀"Course I'm not wasting my time, she's the only good use of my time... This is the only important thing i think I've ever done with me life, you know... Loving her like... If it were you in my position you'd understand, it'd be the same for you..." "but you coulda... You know chose not to be in your position..." "nah" says Isaiah, "i couldnt have chosen anything, s'not a choice mate, i just love her and always have..."

Michael

☘️ He definitely experiences "love at first sight" which is something he didn't really believe in before. But when he sees you he's swept away by your beauty and he knows, just knows, youre the girl hes supposed to fall in love with.

☘️ He tries to pursue you and you don't really take him very seriously because he's michael gray and hes got a reputation about him when it comes to the ladies. You think he just wants a one night stand and so you flirt back and laugh him off and tease him until he ends up confessing everything to you in a desperate attempt at getting you to take him seriously.

☘️ But then he's confessed everything to you, so now you have to tell him something too, thats you've an incurable illness. At first he doesn't understand and you have to spell it out to him. "It means I'm going to die Michael... And much sooner than you will..."

☘️ His first instinct is anger, he feels upset and betrayed that you didn't tell him straight away but this quickly subsides because he isn't really angry, hes heartbroken.

☘️ "If you were to ask my advice I'd say you should go off and find yourself a different girl," you smirk, youre only joking and actually if he were to follow that advice you'd be heartbroken, and pissed off too.

☘️ But Michael is two things : a gentleman and desperately in love with you.

☘️ So he just smirks and shakes his head, "forgive me love but i dont think you give very good advice..."

☘️ He knows how much its going to hurt but he keeps telling himself he's been through worse. He hasnt but he deludes himself with this notion so that he can stay strong for you.

☘️ He won't show you how upset he is about it unless really pushed to, perhaps nearer the end he'll break down, unable to hold it in and stay strong... But for the most part he is determined not to show weakness or to let you feel sad or despairing. He wants to reassure you all the time that everything will be alright and you don't need to be scared.

☘️Cries a lot in secret. Cries to his mother about it. Pol tries her best to support the both of you but its difficult watching her son have his heart ripped out. Difficult too watching you have yours ripped out.

☘️ Sometimes you wish you hadn't fallen in love because knowing what you're going to leave behind now makes the thought so much more painful. When you talk to Michael about it though he puts on his brave face and offers you all the reassurance in the world. Tells you you'll meet eachother again one day. Jokes he might not even be that far behind you. You hate it when he jokes like that though and he often does it just to wind you up, just to get you to play hit him and lighten your mood.

☘️ He'd organise the best private care for you, go with you to all your doctors appointments and try to keep as much of it under control as possible. He'd want you to try any cure they threw at you and there probably would be arguments about it if you didn't want to try something. In the end though he'd always put your wants above his own and listen to you.

☘️ Michaels quite a serious and sullen lad but he doesn't want you to feel serious or sullen so he often has to force himself out of his over thinking moods and into a more lighthearted one. All he wants to do is keep you smiling and hopeful.

#peaky blinders headcanon #bonnie gold x reader #peaky blinders imagines #tommy shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray x reader #isaiah jesus x reader

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sleepershell · 5 months

Text

Make a Deal with Me

pt2

pairing regulus x f!reader

word count 2135

synopsis Slytherin head girl is relaxing in the bath when Regulus comes and annoys her. But then he offers a deal she can’t refuse…

content 18+ minors please DNI, enemies to lovers, nudity, smut, oral sex female receiving, angst, dark mark, reg is king of consent and asks permission

The prefect’s bathroom was basically heaven. Most of the time, if I woke up early enough, I could have the whole place to myself for at least an hour. It was a necessary respite from being Slytherin head girl. Tension was high in the wizarding world, even higher being one of the few non-pureblood Slytherin students. Even though I put up the most hardened front I could, very few of the students actually listened to me. It was a wonder I hadn’t been removed from my position yet. Perhaps I would’ve, if Slughorn didn’t absolutely adore me.

The bubbles smelled of lavender and cedar, and the water was deliciously hot against my tired skin. It truly made crawling out of bed before dawn worth it.

Until I heard the door clang open.

Footsteps rang out but stopped short. I turned to look at the ruiner of my fun and saw a fellow Slytherin. The head boy—Regulus. He looked stricken and nervous, something foreign on his usually haughty and distant face. I sighed, sinking back into the bubbles.

“Well, come in if you’re going to.”

He approached the bath, not close to me but unfortunately not as far away as he could’ve gone. He cleared his throat and I turned away, allowing him to undress and slip into the bath himself. Funny, I’d never pictured the Black heir to be shy.

“Alright.” He said, and I again leaned my head against the edge of the tub behind me.

There was something unnerving about having him there. He wasn’t looking at me, either out of some perceived sense of chivalry or simply a disgust at my blood status. When finally it seemed he was calming down, his arms emerged to rest on the tub’s edge on either side of him. That’s when I saw it—the dark mark standing out on his pale forearm. Like a child’s drawing on a wall. Like a snake in a henhouse. I could not stop the words that spewed from me.

“You’re one.”

His head whipped toward me in surprise and, seeing what my eyes had landed on, he shot his arms back down into the water.

“I’m leaving.”

“No, (y/n), listen to me.”

I couldn’t seem to stop shaking my head. I felt hysterical. “I’m going.”

He began to move toward me. “I won’t turn around for you to go.”

“I don’t care. Don’t flatter yourself, prince.” I spat. The sound of the disturbed water echoed through the room as I pulled myself up and out.

“Merde.” But I didn’t care. He could look at me in disgust or whatever else. I grabbed the fluffy green towel and began to storm off.

And then he spoke. “You’re joining the order, right?”

I spun around. No one was supposed to know. Especially not a bloody death eater. Especially not Regulus Black. “What?”

“Dorcas is. I heard her telling Pandora. So you must be, too, right?” Oh, that girl was going to get it. She wasn’t supposed to be blabbing. Although I don’t know why I expected anything else. She wasn’t exactly discreet. So he knew. Of course he knew. Fine.

“And?” I crossed my hands over my chest.

“Come back. I can help you.” He was leaning so far over the side I nearly expected him to come after me.

“Piss off.”

“No, really.” He wasn’t a bad actor. If I didn’t know any better I’d think his big, pleading eyes were sincere.

“I don’t buy it. Not if there’s nothing in it for you.” I wanted to walk away. I did. But I wanted to be something in the Order, someone people would remember. And if I could offer them something…

He shook his head, his gray eyes going distant. “The things I’ve seen now… He’s not… I need to do something.” I was right. What an actor.

“Goodbye, Regulus.” I began toward where I’d left my clothes.

“Fine!” It was so loud I turned back at once. I’d never heard him speak so loud. “What’s in it for me,” he sucked in a breath, “is a pretty girl.” I couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting…

“Excuse me?”

He straightened, regaining composure. “You heard me. I want you.” Me. “And I’ll pay information in exchange.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

I stomped back over, looking down on him. I liked it. I piled all my hatred for blood supremacists into my words and hoped it would bite. “There's nothing you could tell me worth that.”

A smirk appeared on his stupid face. “I beg to differ. You wouldn’t listen to nice Regulus, fine. You’re well aware of what Blacks will do to get what they want.” He leaned his smug face closer. “Make a deal with me and I can make it worth your while. For the Order. For people like you.” People with dirty blood, he meant. Worthless people. People he wanted dead.

“Somehow I doubt someone like me is worth so much to you.”

He stared me down. “It’s war. Maybe I don’t want to die a virgin.”

I almost lost it. There’s no way I heard him right. There’s no way Regulus fucking Black would tell me something like that. But, then, who would believe me? In our house where everyone worshipped the ground he walked on, who would ever believe that? And, worst of all, he looked serious. Worst of all, I believed him.

“Fine. Information first.”

He was averting his eyes again. “Put some clothes on first.”

“I thought this was what you wanted.”

He sighed, seeming exasperated and almost pained. Apparently I was giving him a run for his money. Good. Someone needed to.

“Voldemort is weak.” I worked not to let my mouth fall open. So few people ever referred to him by name like that. And to say he was weak… I certainly hadn’t expected that. “He’s weakening himself for you, if you’re smart enough to look.”

“Bloody hell does that mean?”

“Kiss me.”

My stomach flipped. Of course that was the deal but I hadn’t exactly thought it through. His face was deadly serious, no smirk. I hadn’t been nervous in his gaze before, but his greenish eyes suddenly laid me bare in a whole new way. I was reminded of before, when we’d been kids. When we’d been friends. Just two nervous first years sorted into the same house. Both readers, both took ourselves a bit too seriously. I’d tug on his dark curls whenever I walked past, and he’d make faces at me when we both finished our tests before everyone else. I’d been so infatuated with him then. I’d dreamed of him saying those two words. But then things had changed. When Sirius left home, Regulus cut me out. That was fine. But when he’d seemed to become a blood supremacist, that’s when I’d decided to cut him out. From then on, it was like he was dead. But it was flooding back. The thoughts of those curls…

I knelt down in front of him, heart pounding like racehorses in my chest, and attempted to steel myself. He was still a monster. He was still a monster.

His eyes, more hazel than green as I approached, were unreadable. With my palms flat on the damp ground, I leaned in, and our lips met so gently, just a flutter, before he pulled away.

“Is that okay?” He swallowed.

Merlin, I hoped it wasn’t real. After so long of icing him out, after him getting that thing in his skin, he couldn’t have been putting up a front. He couldn’t really want to help the Order. Because, if he did, I thought I might just break. And I was not going to let myself fall for this prick. The youngest Black was not an option.

I nodded. His lips met mine again and this time I parted them for him. His top lip was soft between my own, and I felt him flick his tongue along my bottom lip. It sent a shiver through me. I broke away. I had to stay focused.

“More information.”

His lips still hung open a bit. His face was flushed. “Things are going to get much, much worse. He can undoubtedly win this war. But He is only a man. And soon he will be only half of one.”

I frowned and shook my head in question.

“Sit on the edge here.” He nodded in front of himself.

“No, that was like nothing. Give me more.”

He just stared. God, I was so stupid to let him have so much power. But, I wanted to enter the Order with something to offer. With some leverage, frankly. I didn’t want to be some no name grunt. And then there was Regulus… I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it far too many times for my own good.

So I sat myself at the edge, my feet in the water and his face level with my clasped knees. His gaze didn’t leave mine as his hands slid up the length of my calves. Gently, he parted my legs, and I was paralyzed. Eyes still trained on me, he leaned in to place the softest kisses along the insides of one thigh and then the other. I couldn’t stifle the small groan that escaped me. No one had ever touched me there. He continued to kiss one thigh, then the other, then the other again, getting closer and closer. And then his gaze fell to my bare pussy in front of him. His breath was hot, and it sent a pang deep through me.

“May I?” Fuck, of course he was raised to be a gentleman. But it didn’t matter.

“You’re going to do what you want anyway.”

He looked up at me, looking almost surprised. His hair was slightly damp, one long piece clinging to his sharp jaw. “I won’t. May I?” His eyebrows raised. I wasn’t sure if he was asking me regardless of the deal, but I answered regardless.

“Yes.” It was only a whisper.

And then his face was against me, breathing me in, and he moaned. When his tongue finally grazed my clit, I threw my head back, my eyes clenched shut. I had no frame of reference, but I thought he must be really good because I’d never felt such bliss. As I whimpered it seemed he got more confident. He picked up quickly on my preference for lighter pressure and flicking rather than swirling. Clever in class and out of it, apparently.

He wrapped his arms around my legs, and I let myself recline back onto the stone floor behind me. Anyone could have walked in, but there was nothing I cared about other than his tongue, his lips, his breath. His fingers gripped my legs so tight. I could feel the pressure rising up in me like a devastatingly tall wave. As it neared me, I hooked my legs around his head, pulling him in. He groaned, and the vibrations of it sent the wave crashing.

“Regulus.” His name slipped out between my moans as I lost control of myself. My legs shook and his hands gripping my thighs were the only thing tethering me to earth. I could’ve laid there in the lapping shoreline of pleasure forever if it weren’t for rationality. When finally my breathing began to level out, I realized fully what had just happened. I bolted up.

He was staring back at me, expressionless again.

“Okay, so… what now?” I wanted to wrap my arms around myself but what would’ve been the point? I’d already been as vulnerable as anyone could be for him.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“And then what?” Surely I knew what was coming next.

“Nothing. I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

He turned, closing his eyes. He looked peaceful. Which made no sense because we were supposed to be bargaining. This was supposed to be another fucking casualty of war, not some fling. But he said he’d tell me anything.

I charmed the door so we’d know if anyone was coming and slipped back into the bath next to him. The bubbles were almost all gone.

“Regulus. What was that?”

“Just something I’ve been thinking about doing for years, mon ange.” My heart was paralyzed.

“What did you just call me?”

A real smile spread across his face. “I’m going to die for your cause, (y/n). Please let me enjoy the one thing I’ve always wanted before I do.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He lifted a hand to my cheek, brushing his fingers lightly along it. “I would never lie to you. The way you said my name… it didn’t sound foreign on your lips.” I was absolutely about to make a mistake.

And then I kissed him.

#fanfic #fanfiction #regulus black #marauders #oneshot #regulus arcturus black #smut #angst #enemies to lovers #💤🦪#🐍#academic rivals #rivals to lovers #spicy #regulus x reader #regulus black x reader

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tsarisfanfiction · 29 days

Text

The Best Teacher

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Kayla, Yan, Jerry, Will All new Apollo kids have to have their archery skills vetted. TOApril 2024 has begun and this time I plan on actually taking part, so here is day 1 - Missed Target

“Have either of you shot before?” Kayla asked, turning to face her two newest siblings. Perhaps she should have asked that earlier, before leading them to the archery range and putting bows in their hands, but who said she was the best person to be doing this?

Well, she was the best archer in camp, so of course she was.

Kayla steadfastly ignored her spectating brother from where he was pretending not to watch behind the waiting line. Will might be head counsellor, but he was not the best archer in camp.

Yan shrugged. He – they, she corrected herself – held the bow she’d given them up, inspecting it. She hadn’t given them anything complicated; camp default was the longbow, which was very much a point and shoot type of bow. Powerful, but easy enough for most demigods to get the hang of. “Once or twice,” they said in a dismissive voice that meant either they were lying, or didn’t think it was important.

Next to him, Jerry was plucking at the string of his bow – composite recurve, because he was a bit younger and smaller and longbows were tall – absently. “Nope!” he said cheerfully.

Well, Kayla had had worse students – ones that had shot before and thought they were good at it, until she caught sight of their form and realised it was a miracle they hadn’t hurt themselves trying to draw their bows. Not used to shooting meant blank slates.

“Okay,” she said. “In that case, part one – safety rules at the range, before our big brother yells at me because I forgot to say something and someone gets hurt.” She intentionally didn’t look towards where Will was sitting with Nico. “This is the waiting line. Don’t step past that unless you’re about to shoot.” She pointed at the line closer to the targets. “That is the shooting line. While doing range shooting, you stand on that line and do not cross it under any circumstances while anyone has a bow in their hand.”

“What about non range shooting?” Yan asked, and Kayla shrugged back at them.

“That comes once you can range shoot well enough to not kill anyone,” she said. “So, who’s first?”

“Me!” Jerry shrieked, throwing his hand in the air at the same time Yan said “age order,” and stepped up to the waiting line.

Kayla should have expected that, really.

“Experience first,” she decided. “Jerry, stay there and watch.” The British boy pouted but Kayla ignored him as she led Yan up to the shooting line.

For demonstration reasons, she’d passed over her own bow in favour of a longbow. The smooth European yew felt different in her hand to her usual carbon fibre, but it was still instinct to raise it and draw back under the close watch of her new siblings.

“Let it settle,” she cautioned. “Then one… two… release.” Her arrow thudded into the centre of the target, burying itself halfway to the fletching. “And finish like this.” She held her position for a moment, letting Yan take it in before relaxing.

“I got it,” they said calmly, and before Kayla could even say anything, they had their loaned longbow at full draw, steady and with beautiful form.

Before she came to camp, Kayla would have thought Yan had lied about how little they’d shot before, but she knew better now. Things didn’t always follow logical sense for demigods, and being able to perfectly draw back a longbow when they were a child of Apollo was hardly surprising. Yan didn’t count out loud, but they didn’t need to. Kayla saw the bow settle as the draw weight sat into their back muscles, and the moment it stabilised, they released.

It wasn’t a perfect shot – their technique was, but they clearly needed to work on their aim a little – but their arrow buried itself in the inner red ring of the target.

Another archer sibling. Kayla grinned and handed them another arrow. “Again,” she encouraged, and they obliged with a grin of their own, smaller than hers but she suspected no less maniac. It was a thrill, feeling the bowstring sing and knowing that the arrow was going to land exactly where it had aimed.

Yan’s second shot was closer, breaking the line between inner red and outer gold, and Kayla knew it wouldn’t take much more practice before they were hitting gold every time – and once they could do that at greater distances, it would be time to move on to combat archery rather than target archery.

Kayla was delighted, but before she could give Yan another arrow, Jerry made his presence known behind her.

“When’s it my turn?” he demanded, and Kayla realised she couldn’t expect him to keep waiting. Maybe he would be another archer sibling; she’d like that. Most of their cabin were healers and musicians before they were archers (she carefully didn’t think about why) – and if she was honest, she’d like more siblings that could help her support their dad, if he ever came back and brought more enemies with him.

“Now,” she said, handing a few more arrows to Yan. “Keep shooting,” she told them, confident that they wouldn’t hurt themselves if she looked away (anyway, Will was there if something did go wrong).

Jerry bounded over the shooting line, looking eager – more eager now than he had before Yan had shot, and Kayla couldn’t quite forget that the two of them had arrived together, had reportedly known each other for some time before discovering they shared a father. He made impatient grabby hands for an arrow, and Kayla gave him one.

Instantly, she could tell that Jerry was not an archer first and foremost. He fumbled the nock against the string a couple of times before it finally caught, and when she had him mirror her at full draw… There were things to work on.

Before she could step closer to him to correct his stance, he let the arrow fly, jerking back awkwardly at the bow’s recoil, because he hadn’t been stable at all, and the arrow predictably responded in kind.

Kayla didn’t see where it landed, because she was too busy looking at Jerry, but she noticed the distinct absence of the thunk of an arrow hitting a boss. Instinctively, she winced. Missing the target entirely was embarrassing, especially as she had them set so close to the shooting line for initial lessons.

Jerry looked like he was about to cry, and Kayla was not equipped to deal with crying younger brothers, so she hurriedly stepped up to him and started nudging his feet with hers.

“Let’s fix your stance before you try again,” she said, gripping his shoulders and twisting his torso until it was straight, side on to the targets. “Feet wider… wider… wider… okay, that’s good. Head…” she put her palms either side of his face and carefully directed it to look straight at the target without twisting the rest of his body. She nocked the next arrow herself. “Draw back… Elbow up. And back more. More… more. Use your back muscles, not your arms, it’ll be easier.”

After some poking and prodding, she had Jerry standing at full draw in something that looked reasonably like it was supposed to – not perfect, but that was going to take some work, she accepted with some internal dejection. Just because Da was a coach didn’t mean she was a good coach. Teaching people to shoot was far harder than shooting. “And release.”

There was at least a thud of contact this time, but when Kayla turned to look at where it had gone, it had still landed outside of the target sheet, barely hanging on to the edge of the boss.

Jerry burst into tears.

“It was better!” Kayla tried to reassure him. “It’ll just take some practice!” Behind Jerry, she could see Yan approaching, looking distressed at Jerry being upset, and this was way out of Kayla’s wheelhouse.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her back slightly and she glanced up to see Will smiling at her gently. “I’ve got this,” he promised. “You take Yan.”

“But-” She was the one that was supposed to be teaching them. Will wasn’t actually supposed to be there at all, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be taking over teaching when he was the worst archer in cabin seven!

Well. Second worst archer, now.

“I was that bad when I started,” Will told her, his voice raised enough that Jerry and Yan could hear him, too. “I’ve got a few tips and tricks that I was given back then that helped me, so they might help Jerry, too.”

Kayla hated that she could probably guess who had given Will those tips and tricks, because she’d noticed that he had a habit of not naming their dead siblings ever if he could help it. He’d mention names she didn’t recognise, ones that had left before she’d arrived, but the ones that had died?

Introducing others to the archery range always made her think of Michael and the first time he’d introduced her.

“Go on,” Will nudged her. “Go have fun with Yan. I’ve got Jerry.”

It seemed wrong, leaving the two worst archers together, but maybe Will had a point, and Kayla really wasn’t equipped to deal with Jerry’s tears – or the frustration she was going to feel when Jerry kept struggling, because she could admit she wasn’t the most patient demigod in the world. Not even close.

“Okay,” she caved, passing the spare quiver to Will and persuading herself that she wasn’t giving up, she was just being smart, and Yan still needed some tips on aiming, if nothing else. “Come on, Yan, let’s get your aim perfect.”

“But-” they protested. Kayla ignored it and grabbed their arm, pulling them back to their place on the shooting line.

“Will’s got Jerry,” she assured them, and Yan hadn’t been in camp long enough to know exactly what that meant, but they knew that Will was head counsellor – and sure enough, already, Kayla couldn’t hear any more crying, just a low murmur of reassurance from their big brother.

She tried not to let it get to her when, despite still not managing anything better than the outer black all session, Jerry still looked far happier with Will’s tuition than her own.

Will was just like that.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril 2024 #kayla knowles #toa yan #toa jerry #will solace #cabin seven

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mayullla · 1 year

Text

Title: Day one of UA!

Character(s): Hawks / Keigo Takami (BNHA)

Summary: After fighting with villains Hawks was badly injured, when you showed up and healed him. Now today is the day he will take you to UA!

Warnings/tags: Slowburn platonic yandere, fem!child!reader, the reader has a healing quirk, the obsessions themes are not obvious here but will happen at one point so just in case I am putting this here, drabble

Little healer here! list

You were super excited when you found out you were going to UA. You have heard many things about the school. And right now is a little before the start of the new year. Keigo took you to the school stating that while you are not a student of the school paper wise you will be watched over by Recovery girl and the other teachers there.

You nodded at his words holding his hands as you looked at the cherry blossoms still yet to bloom but only small buds. The headmaster of the school and a few teachers seems to be waiting for you and Keigo in front of the school. You stared at the principal as he spoke to Keigo after a short greeting and introduction.

"My aren't you a cutie." Recovery girl said patting your head, quick to explain to you that she would be the one you will be following half of the time. There were many students who get hurt often here and it was her job to heal and help them but it would also be good for you to gain some experience and training under watchful eyes.

"Here you go some candies."

The other two teachers that were waiting were Mic and Aizawa. Mic was quick to coo at how cute you were also telling you not to worry as this place was the safest place you will ever be. Aizawa wasn't really that interested in entertaining you and just greeted you as most of his focus was on the principal and Hawks.

He didn't understand why you should come here when they too had their hands full with other students.

"If you need anything and you can't find Recovery Girl you can look for me or this guy here alright?" You nodded at Mic's words looking at him and Aizawa with a concentrated look as if trying to remember their faces.

"I will be going now birdie." Glancing to the other side you looked at Keigo who was getting ready to leave. Telling you he will pick you up when work finishes, you waved goodbye as he flew away.

Now the whole day you have been following Recovery girl but a lot of the time you were also in the teacher's office drawing on one of the lone tables the teachers had given you some paper to draw on with the colored pencils you brought.

Mic looked like a fun teacher but so were the other teachers who noticed you beside the yellow sleeping bag Aizawa quietly drawing. They asked you a few questions surprised that you were the suppose adopted daughter of Hawks. It was weird really that such a young hero would adopt a child yet it was quickly cleared up later when they meet up with the principal.

At the end of the Hawks soon returned and you said your goodbyes to the teachers. "Was it fun?" Keigo asked you carrying you in his arms. "Unh!" You nodded smiling, nothing happened but it was nice you explained. The teachers were really nice to you and the Cementoss pro hero teacher also gave you cookies to eat.

You explained the exture was similar to hard rock which made Keigo laugh.

You asked how his day was and if he beat up any bad guys. Nodding he told you of how a robber tried to steal from the jewelry shop but he put an end to it, the sparkle in your eyes made him smile a little softer.

In truth, he was actually worried about you the whole day. Unable to concentrate on his work as much. How where you doing? Are the teachers nice to you? Are they treating you well? What are you doing right now? Perhaps training? What are you thinking right now?

It has only been a few days but Keigo would often look to his side expecting you to be there but only the empty floor. It was an odd feeling really being unable to hear your voice.

It almost felt lonely without you.

"It was fine."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #hawks #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bnha fanfiction #bnha writing #mha imagines #platonic yandere #platonic yandere keigo #platonic fluff #yandere keigo #yandere hawks #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere imagine #yandere imagine #yandere writing #keigo takami

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quietlyimplode · 4 months

Text

Clintasha Advent (9)

Prompt: This year, Steve is insisting that the team give experiences instead of presents at Christmas. Natasha draws Tony's name. What meaningful experience is she going to give a "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”?

For/Prompter: @millenniallust4death

Warnings: Memories of the red room dormitories - and - only that this is not re-read and as it’s written is as it’s come out so all mistakes are not intentional.

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Gosh I enjoyed this prompt so much. Thank you for your ideas and thoughts, may this make this month one iota lighter for you. Sending all the hugs.

“Who do you have?” Clint asks again.

“No,” Natasha responds, “it’s a KK - you don’t get to know.”

“But you’ve been working hard on something, I just want to know who,” he pouts.

“It’s not for you,” she argues, waving him off.

“I know, because if I have Steve, and Bruce is taking Thor to a baseball game as their adventure, oh wait,” he turns, “I’m an idiot. Of course you have Tony.”

Natasha shrugs.

“Took far to long to get there, Barton,” she smiles.

“Ok, so now tell me what you’re doing.”

Shaking her head, there’s a pause.

“What do you get the man who has everything?”

Clint shrugs, “the man who can get anything for himself too.”

He can feel the walls lowering, doubt creeping into whatever Natasha had thought of.

“It’s… an adventure,” she admits.

Clint waits, wanting her to say more, and knowing she will if he waits.

“What’s the one thing he always wants? Always wants more of?”

Clint thinks.

He knows his friend.

“Alcohol and knowledge,” he smiles.

“Right, but the former, he promised Pepper about, and the latter, well, he’s too smart for his own good. He knows things and can put them together before someone has even blinked.”

“He likes tech?” Clint says unhelpfully.

Natasha nods.

She looks at him and feels the conversation may not be a waste.

“Actually,” she decides, “you can help.”

Clint perks up, and nods, he likes helping, being included in Natasha’s present schemes.

She leads him to her own lab, the VR headset sitting in the middle.

“It’s rudimentary,” she tells him.

“What is it?”

“It recreates places.”

Clint frowns.

“I don’t get it.”

Natasha nods, seemingly anticipating this.

Opening her laptop, she types in coding, and sighs, backspacing two lines and then starting again.

“Tell me somewhere that you can see in your mind, tell me what you can remember from it.”

Clint thinks of his childhood bedroom.

“White walls, posters on the walls, small bookshelf in the corner. A window, a dirty one, a bed in the corner, a ball on the floor.”

It’s how he left it.

“How old are you in the room?”

“Seven?”

He sees what’s she’s doing as she programs the other other parameters, the town he lived, his approximate age, the age of the room and everything else she can think of.

“Put on the headset,” she points.

He does, and finds himself in his childhood bedroom.

The ai, recreating the room from the date, the time period, his description and musings.

“What? How?”

He looks around. Posters, the set up of the room.

“My bed had cars on it,” he remembers, and the bed changes before him.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can almost hear footsteps on the stairs.

“Can I see?” Natasha asks.

Without speaking, he hands the headset over.

“An American bedroom,” she smiles.

“Tony can do anything, but this might be something new,” Clint tells her.

“Steve did say an experience,” Natasha shrugs,

“You do one,” Clint says, curiously.

Natasha nods, as though she was expecting it.

She doesn’t always default to offering a piece of herself for someone else, but in this case, perhaps she feels it’s necessary.

Seeing Clint’s childhood room, she offers her own.

He glances at some of the coding, surprised to find that there’s preprogrammed places.

The file of the Red Room has seven locations.

“Don’t,” she requests softly.

“Just the dormitories,” he loads the file and she takes the headset, looking into the room and taking steps forward into it.

She’s hesitant to hand them over, but she does anyway.

Clint looks at her, uncertain now.

“Are you sure?”

She shrugs.

“I’ll delete the others, but I suppose I should have something to show him.”

It makes sense to Clint, now, the long hours working on this project.

He places the headset on.

It’s grey, 6 beds lined up, handcuffs glistening and waiting. Threadbare linens on the beds and thin mattresses.

Bars on the windows.

Bars on the door.

Locks on the inside of the doors seems like a strange choice.

He walks towards it, and he wonders if Natasha can see what he does.

“They’d make us lock ourselves in,” she clarifies as he reaches out.

He takes the headset off, the trepidation of being stuck in the locked dormitory feeling too ominous.

“A happy place,” he demands, and she smiles at his feelings.

“Here,” she supplies.

He puts them back on.

“The cabin!”

His delight at seeing it, all round him, shows.

“There’s even the crocheted blankets,” he grins.

“Show him this,” he decides for her, the memory of little Natasha sleeping in a cold dormitory, lined up with six other little girls, locking themselves in and locking themselves up a little too much. Knowing it happened is one thing, seeing it feels… too much.

He becomes lost in thought.

“Where do you think Tony would go?” he asks, imagining a strip club, or maybe a party.

He hands Natasha the headset, and she plugs it back in. Clint watches her update some software, and then shuts down the program and the computer.

“Do you think it’s too much? That he won’t like it? He can improve on it, it’s more just a prototype,” she says biting down on the side of her finger.

“I think he’s going to love it,” he assures her.

“It’s my present, isn’t it?” Tony says, bouncing in a way only he can.

Christmas Eve seemed like the only time that Natasha felt comfortable in giving him his gift. Close enough to Christmas but not a shock on the actual day.

She almost felt nervous.

“If you don’t like it, or it doesn’t work, it’s not my fault okay?”

Tony grumbles, his eyes still blindfolded.

“Just show me, I’m sure I’m going to love it.”

“Okay, but let me explain first.”

Tony stops moving almost sensing the seriousness in her voice.

“Fine, can I take the blindfold off?”

Natasha eases it off his head and he looks around to find the VR set close by.

“You’re hard to buy for, you know? It’s like.. What do you get someone who has done everything, has everything and doesn’t want anything?”

She hands him the set.

“So I made you something.”

He looks at her curiously.

“It’s a recreation device, it’s probably not as good as what you could of done.. But…”

She turns on the system.

“Tell me a place you’ve been, that you’ve always wanted to go back to.”

Tony frowns, thinking and not quite understanding.

“Um,” he pauses.

Natasha considers that it could be a personal question.

“Tell me about Pepper’s apartment,” he prompts.

“Um. It’s spacious, there’s art on the wall. Monet I think. She’s got a big kitchen, that leads into the dining room and the table is big. Always has paperwork on it.”

As he speaks the words the place comes to life through the headset, and he gasps.

“Do you know what you’ve done?”

She isn’t sure what he means.

“Here, hold this,” he hands her the VR headset.

He takes the computer and adds code in.

“You’ve done a great job,” he smiles, turning it to show her.

“We can turn it to holograms, but that might be something for later, here, it’s voice activated now so you don’t have to type it in. Describe a place,” he offers.

“You do it,” she replies, smiling.

“Nat, this is great, thank you,” he says genuinely.

He then launches into describing a room, a bedroom she thinks, a kids one at that.

“Who’s is it?”she asks curiously.

“Mine,” he says softly, “my mother decorated it when I was little before my father changed it.”

“It was blue, with rabbits on the edge, a chair we used to to sit in and read together. I learnt in her lap.”

Natasha takes the headset for him and sees it.

“It looks so cozy,” she says smiling, handing it back.

“Anyway, Merry Christmas. I just wanted to give you something that… Well something that you didn’t have.”

Tony looks up then.

Takes the headset off and looks at her sincerely.

“Thank you, Natasha, this is… way better than what I got Barton.”

They both laugh.

“Do you want me to stay?” she asks.

“No… I think… I’ll be playing with this for a while,” he laughs, “I’ll see you at breakfast though?”

She groans.

“Please get some sleep, Pepper will kill me.”

Natasha taps the headset.

“See you tomorrow, Shellhead.”

1/ Clint/Nat/Laura + traditions

2/ Clintasha + temporary blindness

3/ Clint/Nat/Maria + traditions

4/ Natasha and Yelena watch the stars

5/ Clintasha - stab wounds + wrapping presents

6/ Clint/Nat + Maria - gift buying (early shield days)

7/ Clint/Nat - taking lucky for a walk when it starts to snow

8/ Clintasha - Christmas Lights

#clintasha advent 2023 #natasha romanoff #clintasha #black widow #clint barton #my fic #hawkeye #natasha romanoff fic #clintasha fanfiction #clintasha fanfic #Nat and Tony #tony stark #Tony stark fic

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befuddled-calico-whump · 5 months

Text

Total $hit$how: A Wealth of New Information

in which Kaius learns exactly the sort of people he'll be working with

cw: adult/crude language

masterlist ///// next

×~×~×

With a group like this, they were clearly being set up to fail.

Kaius had been the first to arrive in the briefing area, thus he'd had more time than anyone else to analyze the scene and draw his conclusions. The room itself was relatively small, with furnishings that were all a monotonic gray. Its walls were reinforced and there was a heavy lock on the singular door. A place to speak on classified matters that could swiftly be repurposed to detain. Fitting, he supposed. He'd been told the team would be composed of criminals. Which Kaius himself technically was, but he counted his crimes far less significant than his reasons for running.

The second individual to enter was a tall, broad-chested man, dark dreads pulled away from his face by a band, shiny shoes and ironed shirt suggesting he was accustomed to working indoors. An attorney, perhaps, or some kind of analyst.

Not far behind him was a stout woman in a black tank top. Hardly professional attire, but Kaius supposed she was the type who would rather show off her biceps than maintain an air of respectability.

“No shit. Jericho?”

“Joy? Man, how long has it been?”

And they knew each other. This could prove irritating. Kaius tried to tune out their prattling. He had no interest in whatever prior circumstances had led them to meet, especially when the next person was entering, ready to be observed.

It was a lanky man with long, loose hair and an excessive amount of eye makeup. It seemed the batch grew worse with every new addition. Was he really expected to work with these people? Perhaps he was to be granted a consultant-type role. Act as the brain of this new system and prevent the group from making stupid choices. He could do that. Pointing out stupidity was certainly one of Kaius's strengths.

The door swung open a fourth time, and the final member of the team sauntered in. It seemed he'd been correct to assume that each new addition decreased in quality. This man looked like he'd neither slept nor bathed in days. His clothes were crumpled, his colored hair wild. The bags under his eyes and twitchy expression only added to Kaius’s doubts.

He hoped their assignment was nothing significant. Their efforts were surely doomed.

The one saving grace was that no one attempted to engage him in conversation while the group awaited instruction. Aside from the chatter of the first two—Jericho and Joy, was it?—the room was silent.

The door opened once more, this time admitting a pair of men who actually had the look of professionals. One an older white man, with gray streaking his hair and beard, the other perhaps in his thirties, with dark hair that curled near the top.

“Good evening,” the older one said. There was an easy smile on his face that his younger compatriot didn't attempt to match. “Glad to see everyone could make it.”

The man with the colored hair snorted. “Up until an hour ago, I thought I'd been arrested. Didn't think I had a choice.”

Kaius didn't know how the man managed to hold onto his smile.

“Nevertheless, welcome aboard, Mr. Harbor.” He addressed the room. “My name is Victor, but you are all welcome to call me Vic. I will be acting as your handler during your employment here.”

Joy’s hand went up. “Question. Is that handler as in… agents and stuff?”

“It would be in that vein, yes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We weren't brought in to spy or anything, were we? That's not exactly my specialty.”

Vic laughed. Kaius couldn't see what was so funny.

“No, nothing like that. At least not the sort of spying you're picturing in your heads. The agency has a… highly specialized mission in mind that will require all of your unique skills and talents.”

“And I assume we get to hear what this mission is?”

“Correct. Sahota? Secure the door.”

The younger of the pair turned, sliding the lock into place without so much as a shift in his expression. Not the friendly type. Kaius thought they might get along.

“Have you all ever heard of Rotorworx? I know Mr. Harbor has.”

A grin split Harbor’s face, but no one else seemed to show recognition. Kaius thought the name sounded familiar, but he had no memory to attach to it.

“Rotorworx is a very…ambitious tech company," Vic continued. "They are fond of big, outlandish ideas. Tampering with the impossible.”

Joy nodded. “I can get behind that.”

“Then I hope you won't be disappointed to hear that your mission will be to destroy some of their experimental tech, Miss Cavan.”

“Wait, destroy it?” the big guy, Jericho, spoke up. “Why?”

Vic cleared his throat. “As I said, they're tampering with the impossible. Fingerfucking reality, to put it crassly.” He grinned into the silence that had fallen over the room. Even Harbor stopped fidgeting.

“The company has made some…questionable choices in the past, but our intel suggests their latest project is a machine that can open a gate between realities.”

“No shit,” Joy whispered. When Kaius glanced at her, she and Jericho were giving each other a Look. He'd seen similar exchanges of the Look on multiple occasions, most notably at university, when a pair of students thought something was a load of bull. He couldn't find himself disagreeing, but if destroying a machine kept him out of the clutches of his family, he wasn't about to complain.

“We've heard every test has been both unsuccessful and disastrous, yet Rotorworx continues to escalate, despite having seen how catastrophic that has gone in the past.”

Kaius leaned forward, interlocking his fingers. “Why do you keep looking at Mr. Harbor?” he asked. It seemed a reasonable query. If Vic’s eyes landed on Harbor every time he made a mention of a disaster or questionable choice, Kaius needed to know why.

Harbor lifted his chin, looking down his nose at Kaius. “Because I'm a special boy.”

Vic moved behind Harbor's chair, resting his hands on the back of it. “Mr. Harbor was a subject in one of Rotorworx’s past experiments. If this team runs into any unpredictable technology, we believe his implant might give you an advantage.”

Joy’s hand went up again. “Hold up. Implant?”

Harbor tapped his temple. “I see shit you could never imagine. Makes me quicker on my feet."

“A subsect of Rotorworx attempted to crack clairvoyance,” Vic explained. “Mr. Harbor was the only subject for whom the experiment was moderately successful.”

Joy narrowed her eyes. “I think I read about that. Didn't everyone they tested on, uh…” Her gaze darted to Harbor for a split second. “...Damage their psyche?”

If it was meant as an insult, Harbor didn't pick up on it. “Can't break what's already broken,” he said, folding his arms behind his head and reclining in his chair.

“The rest of you,” Vic continued, “have your own specialties. As you train together, I trust you'll learn the best way to play to one anothers’ strengths.” He laid a hand on the shoulder of the man beside him, giving it a squeeze. “Now Sahota, will you finish off the mission brief? I need to see if intelligence has an update for us.”

“Of course, sir.” Sahota remained stiff-backed, scanning the group before him with a cool look in his eyes. Once Vic had closed the door, he moved to the table, opening a white plastic binder to a page that looked like a building’s floorplan.

“As Vic said previously, you are being tasked with the destruction of the Reality Cage.”

The man with the heavy eye makeup snorted at that, the first sound Kaius had heard him make.

“I'm sorry, the what now?”

Sahota leveled his gaze at him. “The impossible technology Rotorworx is developing. Pay attention.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I paid attention. Just think that's a ridiculous name, yeah?”

Sahota did not appear amused. Though, Kaius noted, Joy and Jericho did. Should he be entertained as well? 'Reality Cage' was just two words strung together. He didn't see the humor in them.

“The Reality Cage is set to begin its second phase of testing in a matter of weeks. We don't know the extent of the damage it will do, but statistics suggest it could spell catastrophe for the city if fully activated.”

“Wild I got hired on to stop a machine from spelling,” the man with the makeup muttered, earning a snicker from Jericho.

Sahota snapped the binder shut. “Benji Ruebin,” he said. “Why are you here?”

The man, Benji, seemed caught off guard. “Well I… what? What do you mean why am I here? You're the ones who asked for me, aren't you?”

“And why did you agree? You're a thief, Ruebin. This job won't give you the money your skillsets could earn you elsewhere. So why are you here?”

“Because—”

“Because if you didn't agree to this mission, you'd be rotting in jail right now. All of you would.” Sahota’s eyes landed on Kaius, and he felt a chill go through him at the coldness there.

“With a few exceptions. But your situation isn't much better, is it Mr. Manak?” He turned back to Benji. “What do you think, Ruebin? Can you make it in prison? Or are you going to shut up and listen?”

Benji bent his head, pantomiming zipping his lips.

“Good.” He flipped the binder back open. “Rotorworx has dozens of locations within the city, but we've narrowed our targets down to three. From there, we still need to uncover exactly where the Cage is.” He raised his chin. “And that's where you all will come in. Rotorworx is a billion dollar company. They treat security like a form of art. Once you enter the target location, you'll face armed guards, an assortment of surveillance systems, and traps.”

“Did you say traps?” Joy was leaning in, glancing at the binder. “What is this, a movie?”

“Rotorworx considers their research top secret. As a larger-than-life company, we are anticipating larger-than-life countermeasures.”

Sahota stood, leaving the binder open on the table. “You'll find the data we've gathered from the three potential locations in there. Study it in your spare time. Vic has placed me in charge of your training for these next few weeks.” He cast a final glance over his shoulder. “Wish I could say I trust that you won't disappoint me, but I don't. Start taking this seriously, or you're going to start dying.”

“Are you leaving?” Jericho half-stood. “What should we do? Are we restricted to this room?”

“Go where you want within the facility,” Sahota answered. “Locked doors will stay locked if you know what's good for you. Training starts in the morning.”

“And where are you off to, huh? Aren't you on the team?” Harbor threw his head back, looking at Sahota half-upsidedown. “You didn't even tell us about your special talents.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “I report directly to Vic. You all report to me. Don't make us regret this.”

And with that, he was gone. Kaius took the opportunity to slide the binder towards himself, leafing through its pages.

“Woof,” Joy muttered. “Who do you think tops?”

Benji let out a chuckle. “Definitely Vic. You heard Sahota talking.”

“Haven't heard someone say sir with such fervor since the army.”

“You were in the army?”

Kaius tuned them out. The binder’s pages were laughably scarce. Was this all the information they had to go off of? There was nothing but a few mismatched floorplans and the name of a suspected security system in use. They really were doomed, weren't they?

On top of the scant intelligence, Kaius's new team was… lacking. The more talkative three were gossiping and giggling about their new bosses, and Harbor had already left the room.

As much as he didn't want to take charge of the situation, it seemed that no one else was willing to act responsibly.

Kaius loudly cleared his throat. “As enticing as it may be to discuss our handler's sexual habits, perhaps we should focus on the task at hand,” he said. “Familiarizing ourselves with the binder is the only order we've been given, and it seems you're already ignoring it.”

“And who are you?” Benji said.

“Mr. Manak,” Joy answered for him.

“Manak. As in the Manak family?”

“A family name usually insinuates the presence of a family,” Kaius muttered.

“Yeah, but you aren't just the Manak son, you're the Manak heir.” Benji laughed. “My old crew talked about robbing you once.”

“No shit, we got a rich boy on the team?” Joy leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in one hand. “So what are you doing here?”

“I think that's my business.” Truth be told, he was as curious about them as they were about him. All criminals, he knew that much, but what were their crimes? As long as he was here, he supposed he could entertain himself with uncovering a few more secrets. No doubt even Vic and Sahota had some of their own, though that would prove treacherous ground to tread on.

“Hey, he's right.” Jericho was speaking now. “We don't know exactly what we're getting ourselves into. Maybe we should focus less on the personal aspect and more on the things that will get us killed.”

At least someone in the group could be reasoned with. Kaius picked up the binder and carried it to the other side of the table, laying it before the others.

“There isn't much.”

“It's a start,” Jericho said. “And hey, I know the system they're using. I've hacked that dozens of times.”

“One of the systems,” Kaius corrected him. “There's bound to be more.”

They scanned all seven pages included in the binder, finding nothing he hadn't already made a mental note of. When he was absolutely certain he hadn't missed a detail, Kaius stood.

“No sense in wasting more time on this. I'm going to have a look around.”

“I guess… we'll come with you.” Joy stood as well. “Got nothing better to do.”

This must be why he was here. To keep the group on task when the handlers weren't present.

But even with his guidance, even with the team's newfound willingness to cooperate, Kaius couldn't shake his initial gut feeling.

They were being set up to fail.

#anyone reading the tags: this is like 2.3k words. just warning you #all pertinent info and i think decent characterization? but long lol #i might rb with a tldr lol #total$hit$how #kaius is a fun pov #heist #writing

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