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ghostgirl101 · 2 months

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Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅰ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.5K || Angst → Fluff ||

A/N: I had this as a big idea that I had to get down before the basic headcanons and stuff, so here's my take on our Lisan al Gaib 😎 if you like this then hit me up for some relationship headcanons and the like, I'm up for it all. Enjoy reading or watching the movie if you haven't already - I'm going again lol, and screen X is the best way to experience it fr Also I feel like I should write a second part to this lmao, if you liked what you read?

You weren't one for dreams of destiny.

The dreams you had seemed meaningless, confusing, nothing to do with what ifs and what could. Not like his.

But you always seemed to feel some kind of atmosphere, an aura you couldn't quite shake off, even when you woke up from the darkness. There was no face to go with the voice, the voice in the dark that called to you in whispers that you didn't understand. Beautiful words that weren't yours, but sounded so soft and gentle and powerful, as they reached out to you from distant lands.

You could never place them, pin them down and study them, understand them, until the day the Emperor was challenged by a ghost of a lost House, thought to be dead, left to be forgotten. You stand near the Emperor and his guards and men, the Great Houses looming and listening from higher above, as the Fremen fill up the space to watch the confrontation in spirited anticipation.

The life debt was paid. The late Emperor was overthrown. The ascendancy of Paul Atreides rose and took from the throne to claim it.

His attention flicks from his eyes boring coldly into the Emperor's, to meet yours, his voice smooth and set, full of conviction and force.

"Our destiny is together. I'll take her."

Your eyes widen slightly as his words sink in, blinking through the shock and incredulity that rushes through you and makes your heart race in apprehension and wonder. Though his voice twins with your wandering dreams, you don't know whether to feel fascination and longing, or fear and cautiousness at some greater force beyond your understanding, playing out before your very eyes.

"I..." your voice falters in uncertainty and disbelief, and you try again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me well," Paul responds with an undying, stoic certainty that's almost unnerving. "As I know you."

His eyes study you, his Spice-stained blue eyes bleeding into yours, scanning every freckle on your face and curve of your outfit. Assessing you, knowing you, ridiculous throngs of power filling his aura and projecting onto you with his intense stare. You have to fight not to shiver under it, ultimately failing.

"What of me?" is the wisest reply you can think of before the silence stretches into dangerous uncertainty.

"Everything," Paul says evenly, but there's no mistaking the challenge and determination in his tone, almost daring you to reject him, to disagree, a built-up desire of dreamt promises resolving his stand. "I choose you, as my Empress. We will rule together, over the Empire."

Scepticism and bewilderment washes over you and makes your blood heat and stir, retreating into silence as he takes a step closer to you, gazing at you as if you're the most curious, exotic being he's ever seen.

Desire threatens to override Paul Atreides' reason, clinging onto the hope and chance of a narrow way through to light, a light that could only be sought out with you by his side. Without you, there was nothing in sight but pools of blood replacing luscious marine life and oceans running through Arrakis, disarray and disillusion at every turn and infecting every heart.

You were absolutely perfect.

And you were already his, long before this moment, before you and he were born into the world and named. There was no manipulation needed, because everything was laid out for him to take, welcoming him to rule and grow higher and higher. Fate had bonded you and strung you along to here and now, and as you blink up into his bright eyes that narrow slightly at you, frowning softly as if you hadn't understood his demand.

"Do you know what I am?"

You pause for a moment, speaking slowly and cautiously, as the crowd of Fremen and the wary, late Emperor watch on in tense wordlessness. "You are Leto Atreides' son. Former Duke of Caladan."

"What I am," Paul repeats evenly, "not who I am." He stares at you in silence for another beat, before speaking up again. "Do you know of the Bene Gesserit?"

You stop yourself from glancing in Lady Jessica's direction just in time; the runes patterning her skin, her once soft eyes now spiked with an unfamiliar darkness of ages past. Anyone could get trapped in her watchful glare, and her son's holds almost as much intensity.

"No," you decide on hesitantly.

"Kwisatz Hederach," he adds, taking another step forward until you can feel his breath tickling your cheeks, standing above you with unspoken grace and vigor. "I see the future. A part of me is the future."

His hand is suddenly squeezing yours warmly and tightly, making you flinch slightly and glance down at them before looking back up at him.

"In this future, I am with you."

All you can do is stare at him in awe and wariness, not knowing whether to let your curiosity guide you, or distance yourself as far as possible from the boy who reigns over the dunes.

"Why?" you whisper, the crowds seeming to fade around you as you focus on the boy in front of you, his fingers tangling with yours boldly.

"I've seen it," Paul insists, his tone a touch softer in thought and wistfulness. "All of it. When I am with you..." His grip tightens over yours, the fire in his eyes returning. "We're unstoppable."

"And..." your words dry before you can speak them, and you will yourself to go on, unable to break away from the deep blue hues of his gaze. "And without?"

His jaw visibly clenches at your question, and his hand drops yours, shaking his head only answer as he glances away in slight frustration.

"You don't have the leisure of choice. It's all been made for you, written in the sands and stars, and what you need to do is walk in its path. I will show you the way. You have no other. Do you understand?"

The firmness is strong in his words and glare, making you look away from him too, still in a slight stun over the rush of events. In less than a day, your freedom has been stripped to this young man's desires and destiny, entwined with yours. You, who barely knew him until now, only familiar with his voice, his words, that echoed and rang in your head like a lullaby.

But this feels so harsh and strict. The eyes of the former Emporer linger between the two of you, and Paul's army of Fremen stand behind him attentively, some gazing at you in admiration and hope, of their messiah's promised bride. And she is beautiful.

"That's unfair."

"The future is unfair," Paul says calmly, his collected, cool tone wavering for a moment. "But it will be so much worse without you by my side, and I will not accept that. Not for my people... not for myself."

You stare at him in fascination and caution, lost for words. His fingers rise to brush against the skin of your cheek, sending tingles in their wake and making you fight back the automatic reaction, your eyes following his surprisingly gentle touch. Two fingers trace down the shape of your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head slightly upwards. Just one step closer, and your lips would be touching too.

"Name anything," he murmurs to you, the Fremen straining to hear his voice as it reaches you effortlessly, his expression earnest and determined. "Anything. And it is yours. Only if you willingly wed me in turn. Not as a concubine, nor a mistress."

You blink, then blink again, taken aback as a million thoughts and suggestions race through your mind and make your head spin for a split second. You glance at the elder Emperor, who gazes back at you and the infamous Lisan al Gaib wearily, his eyes clouded with sombreness and light spite.

"I... I don't," you shake your head, overwhelmed by an impossible choice. "I don't know..."

Paul's expression softens into a smile you haven't seen before, one that makes your cheeks flush with colour as you watch him; a gentle, amused smile that's somehow familiar and unfamiliar all at once, one meant just for you, as he disregards his surroundings.

"You will know," he replies quietly, "and I will have you, and protect you, rule with you. Love you. As I am meant to."

Paul suddenly brings you closer, pulling you into a searing kiss without warning. The exotic, earthy taste of the Spice on his tongue floods your senses and sends shudders of ecstasy and heat coursing under your skin and hushing the myriad of thoughts buzzing in your mind in an instant.

When he pulls away, all too soon, you find yourself chasing his lips before you catch yourself, and Paul gives you another soft smile, his forehead resting against yours as your eyes lock.

"And as I long to," he finishes against your lips, his words grounded with a look of protectiveness and desire that makes you instinctively relax further in his hold.

⊹⊹⊹

From beyond you both, his mother smiles slightly at the scene, a hand hovering over her rounded stomach.

The first step has been made.

══════════════⊹⊱≼ part two coming soon ≽⊰⊹══════════════

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iciclesses · 3 months

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Dizzy today thinking about Price holding your pussy open with his thumbs while the rest of the team looks over his shoulder. You just spread out and vulnerable, entirely exposed and shaking a little from the anticipation. Gaz and Soap mesmerized at how wet you already were, Price monitoring your expression to make sure you're okay but even he can't help his eyes flicking back down- each time it does he's satisfied to see your clit twitching under his gaze. Ghost’s eyes are the hungriest, roving all over your body. Mask already rolled up to his nose, pink tongue licking his lips. Oh yeah, you're about to get absolutely devoured.

Hands holding your legs open and back, practically kissing your knees. Soft hands caressing your stomach, hips, shoulders, ass. Squeezing your tits and pinching your nipples, another hand reaching up to brush any stray hairs out of your eyes. They want you to watch.

It's like watching a nature documentary, a front row view of an apex predator crouching down to drink from a watering hole. Ghost’s eyes locked on yours as he lowers himself down until you can feel the stubble on his chin softly brush against your lips. You can't help the twitch and the keen, everything oversensitive but understimulated.

When Ghost’s made you cum so many times black dots are swimming in your vision, he pulls back. Soap is quick to pull Ghost to the side, lewd tongue lapping your slick off from his lips and chin. Gaz takes his place instead, taking his time as he settles in and gets comfortable. He first meets your cunt with a sweet kiss on your clit, peppering more slowly down towards your hole. He's got you giggling, straining against the hands on your legs as it tickles just a hairs breath more than it gets you off- but the giggle turns into a guttural moan as Gaz spears his tongue into your hole and licks his way back up to your clit. He's flashing you a smile, impossibly beautiful while sucking you down.

Soap and Ghost eventually relieve Price of his duty holding your legs. Price lovingly threads his fingers into Gaz's curls as Gaz sucks you into another orgasm. Once you've finished, legs shaking under strong hands, Price pulls Gaz back. While licking into Gaz’s mouth, Price’s thumb finds your stinging clit and rubs it in soothing circles.

When he pulls back, panting and half lidded eyes lost in Gaz’s similar expression, he turns to you.

"Been so good for us, love. We're going to make you finish a few more times, yeah?"

You're so beyond words. You're beyond being able to really decipher if you want more or if the thought alone might kill you- but you know you trust your men. You know they'll take care of you, know they know what you need and what you can take. Your only outward response to Price’s statement was a big dopey smile, blinking away the overstimulated tears from your eyes. You can tell it's the right answer, watching Price settle onto his stomach before you with his eyes meeting yours- full of the same trust and adoration coming from yours.

"There's our girl."

#noel.txt #141 x reader #wow a post with no cws how rare #anyways im trying to finish a fluff fic but im not built for it so enjoy the team giving you a billion orgasms with their tongues

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

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Title: Illuminated.

Pairing: Yandere!Apollo x Reader (Greek Mythology).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Stalking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, No Specified Gender For The Reader But They Are A Hunter Of Artemis, and Implied Kidnapping.

[Commissioned Piece. Donate To Palestinians In Gaza Here.]

“You, my love, are the poet’s demise.”

You stiffened at the sound of his melodic voice, shrinking into yourself before thinking better of taking on such a mouse-like posture and straightening. Still, you failed to stop yourself from crossing your arms over your chest, pulling your knees up and hoping beyond hope that the silvery water would be enough to hide your form from his unfaltering stare. You thought it’d be safer to bathe at night, apart from your sisters, when the softened moonlight protected you from his burning gaze, but you’d been naïve to think that any hour could be late enough to spare you haven. During the day, you lived under the burning gaze of his blazing chariot, busied yourself with shooting down hawks and ravens carrying gifts in their beaks, and at night, he had no burdens to keep him from closing the distance between you using less... ancillary methods.

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken, my lord.” You forced yourself to laugh, glancing over your shoulder. Sure enough, Apollo stood on the river’s opposing bank, his tanned skin nearly radiant in the darkness. If the sight of him hadn’t brought you such dread, you might’ve thought him beautiful. “As of late, my aim’s been so poor that I can hardly call myself a stag’s demise, let alone a man’s.”

You were quick to look away from him, but you could still hear his gentle hum, picture the way his lips would lilt upward as he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s deathly true,” he went on, taking a step forward. The water rushed to part as he stepped where it had once been, and in turn, you scrambled for the robes you’d left on the shore, barely managing to pull the ashen cloth around yourself before Apollo came to stand in front of you, his light quickly doing away with what little protection the shadows offered. It was only after you were haphazardly dressed that you considered it might be considered an affront to hide any part of yourself from divinity, but the worry was quickly forgotten. It was only natural to want to create yet another barrier between you and him. Even insects knew to run from their betters. “For even the most talented bard would struggle beyond words to describe your beauty. They could be chained to their desk for an eternity, study under the Muses’ own tutelage, and still be unable to write a single line.”

He held out a hand to you, but you pretended not to realize he meant for you to take it. “You’re far too kind. If you have a message for Lady Artemis, there’s no need to bribe me with such—”

“My love,” he cut in, his smile unwavering. “If I had any desire to speak to my sister, your help would not be necessary.”

“A prophecy concerning our next hunt, then? If there’s something we mustn’t do, I ought to get the Huntmaster, she’ll—”

“My love.” You felt your throat tighten, your mouth go dry. “Although your voice is sweeter than honey and lovelier than birdsong, I’ll admit – I do find myself rather irritated when it’s used to employ such thinly veiled excuses. Any more, and I might think it better to encase your tongue in gold. At least, then, I might have something charming to admire while you lie to me.” His fingers grazed over your jaw as he moved to cup your cheek. It was not a gesture you had the luxury of ignoring. “You know why I have come here.”

Oh, how you wished you’d gone with your sisters.

“I… I can’t, my lord.” Unlike his, your voice was perfectly capable of trembling, of shaking, of plummeting into the sort of jarring, unsteady downward inflections that would’ve been the death of any proper storyteller. “My vows are to Lady Artemis, and—” It was your turn to smile, now, to lilt your head to the side apologetically. “—she’d never forgive me if I broke them. Especially with you.”

For the first time, his good humor seemed to ebb, giving way to not anger, but a melancholy sort of disappointment. “I suppose you’re right,” he relented, his golden glow dimming ever so slightly. Suddenly, it did not hurt quite so unbearably to look at him. “It’s a terrible thing. Me and my sister never did learn to share.”

Relief nearly managed to overshadow your revulsion. “I really am sorry. My desire is not to insult you, but—”

This time, when he interrupted you, it was not with a teasing remark, a nectar-dipped pet name, the vague implication of an affection he expected you to return. Rather, there was a sudden brightness in his golden eyes, a sharpened point to his smile, and then, his lips were pressed into yours. The kiss was shallow, but lingering, and when you tried to draw back, the hand on your cheek kept you firmly in place – his hold not crushing, but steadfast, resolute. His unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist, his hand finding its place at the small of your back as he sapped the last of the breath from your lungs. It was only when your palms pressed into his chest, your blunt nails burrowing into his bare skin in a silent plea for air, that he pulled back. Panting and flushed, you made a desperate effort to pull away, to escape back to your encampment, back to your sisters, back to your goddess, but he only cooed, his bowstring calloused fingertips fanning over your cheek.

“Such a terrible thing,” he muttered, and you considered, briefly, that you might’ve been the first mortal to realize just how wretched his voice truly was.

“How fortunate it is, then, that you’ve caught the attention of such a selfish admirer.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere greek gods #yandere greek mythology #yandere apollo #apollo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

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ooooh a fic where reader and Tom reacts to the tiktok edits of them pls✨

Internet Boyfriend || Tom Blyth x Actress!reader

A/n: I LOVE THIS HAHAHHAHA also yes, I did add the links to the tiktok edits 😋

Warnings: none :)

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

“First of all, congratulations on satisfying this fan of the original series,” The women points to herself, “Thats what we like to hear,” You smile, “Like this film is epic! But uh we need to all about something really really serious first,” You nod, anticipating the questioning.

“Y/n,” You eyebrows shoot up as you tilt your head, “Do you think Tom is ready,” You and Tom look at each other, “to become the internet’s boyfriend? Cause I don’t think he realises what’s about to happen,” Tom looks taken aback as he looks at you.

“I’ve been saying this for so long too!” You meet Tom’s gaze, “I did not expect that question,” He shakes his head lightly laughing. “Beyond the internet boyfriend, it’s just he gives such a beautiful performance in this film and after our first premiere in Berlin, I grabbed his face in the car on the way back to the hotel and I just bawled my eyes out to him, remember that?” You look to him, a smile on your face.

“Yep,” He chuckles, looking down, “Because as an actor and his girlfriend I was just so proud to witness the rise of Tom Blyth in movie making, it’s such a beautiful thing and there’s no one more deserving out there, truly.” You say in appreciation as you and Tom lock eyes.

He puts his hand on his heart, “Thank you,” He says, truly moved by what you said, “That’s so sweet of you,” You lean your head against his shoulder and his arm wraps around your shoulder. “You’re welcome,” You say to him, looking up as you place a light kiss on his jawline.

“Both your performance is honestly just spectacular, I love the two of you, I wish I was there in person to witness it,” She jokes as you all laugh along with her. “Another thing I wanted to ask, specifically aimed to you Tom,” He looks at the women expectantly.

“The girls on tiktok are loving it already, are you ready,” Tom scratches the back of his neck, “Oh God,” As you already start laughing knowing where she was going with this question, “Are you ready for the Snow thirst edits? How do you feel about them,” It’s silent for a few seconds as Tom looks at the floor, a smile on his face.

“It’s begun babe,” You squeeze his arm. “Uh- I’m not on tiktok and I try to stay off online, as much as possible, uhm which is difficult these days- but I don’t see them often until people send them to me- So stop sending them” Tom looks at the camera as you throw your head back, losing it already as you laugh.

“As someone who has tiktok and thoroughly enjoy the edits of the movie, I do send them to Tom-“ “You send them all the time! It’s embarrassinga” You both intertwine hands and laugh out loud. “I don’t really send you the thirst trap ones, mostly just the ones about how blue your eyes are and how great of an actor you are,”

“Well speaking of it, we actually have a few thirst traps of you Tom, lined up for you to react to,” Tom drops his head as you start giggling, “Oh my god,” “Here we go,” You say in as you watch a crew member past you an IPad.

“Oh dear god, this video is going to turn into a try not to cringe challenge video with y/n and Tom reacting to Coryo” You sigh as you watch the first tiktok which is of Tom as Snow. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNC4EmV8/

You immediately smile knowing you have already seen this tiktok. The interviewer starts laughing as you both watch Tom’s reaction to it. “I must say, It’s very good,” Tom admits, “This tiktok has 5.4 million views, and everyone is saying that this is the Coriolanus snow edit,” She says as you click on the comment section and read through the comments.

“I agree that is the Coriolanus snow edit aswell,” You chuckle. “Okay next one,” You say as Tom groans beside you, already very much embarrassed. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNCVJCRX/

Your jaw immediately starts to drop upon hearing the audio. Tom covers his eyes as you and the interviewer laugh. “I love the beginning!” You say in between laughs, “Wait what was the beginning?” Tom asks, “Did you not watch it?”

“I covered my eyes the second I heard my voice,” He admits with a silly grin on his face as you shake your head and rewatch it. “Oh, I see,” He rubs his chin as you watch the next one. “Oh I’ve seen this one!” Tom says as you both rewatch it. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNCVkrxh/

“I’ve always told Tom that everyone obsesses when he says Snow lands on top,” “Yes! The fans go crazy!” The woman laughs along as Tom looks uncomfortable. “Tom say it,” You nudge him as he gives you the ‘don’t make me do it’ look as you give him your puppy eyes, “fine,” He huffs.

He clears his throat as a joke before staring into the camera, “Snow lands on top,” He says in an insanely attractive voice as you fake faint. “Watch them edit this too,” You point out, “Please no,” He covers his face in embarrassment as you pat his back, silently laughing.

“This one, is one my favs actually,” The woman says as she shows you and Tom the tiktok. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNC4wS5J/ You both crack up at the ending as actual tears started forming in Tom’s eyes. “Oh my god he’s crying,” You slap his thigh as you lean over in your chair from laughter.

After a good 5 minutes the two of you calm down. “For the next one, Y/n you can just go ahead and search up Tom Blyth on TikTok and pick whatever tiktok you want him to react to,” Your eyes lit up at the offer and you hurriedly take the iPad from Tom’s lap and type his name. Tom leans over to look at the iPad as you hide it from him, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he knows all too well.

You take your time as your scroll before one catches your eye. You watch it and your jaw immediately drops open. “What is it?” Tom says impatiently as your eyes flicker from Tom to the woman. “I don’t know if I can even show this,” You cover your mouth.

“Babe, I don’t think you want to see this,” You continue while Tom becomes impatient and curious. “Just show me!” You give a look to the interviewer as you show him the tiktok. Almost immediately, Tom turns it off and gets up from the screen as you stifle a laugh, watching him as he walks behind the camera, his hands on his hips.

“What did I just watch,” He says as you full on start to laugh to the point where you were on the ground laughing and had a stitch. “I should have stayed curious” Tom runs a hand down his face as he sighs and sits back down on the chair, laughing at you on the floor dying from laughter.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, sweetheart,” He playfully rolls his eyes as he offers his hand and helps you up. “My eye makeup is most definitely ruined,” You say in between laughs as Tom grabs your face and wipes away the smudged mascara.

“Oh my god! I’m sorry I didn’t even show you the tiktok!” You realise as the woman doing the interview snickers. “We probably looked mentally insane,” You fan your face. The TikTok was of Coryo kissing your character in tbosas and the next clip was of Billy kissing Dulcinea which also happened to be played by you and the writing on the TikTok said “This man kisses like he is starved, like she is the oxygen he needs to breathe,”

Tom was beyond embarrassed as he recalled both moments when he was kissing you on screen. “This may be abit of TMI but ladies, he’s always been like that,” You cover the left side of your mouth as you whisper it to the camera before winking.

#fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x actress!reader

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driaswrld · 5 months

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🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L’Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L’Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you��d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

#⋆ 🪷 A ROYAL AFFAIR ! ˚ ༘ *#👑 TSCC — series.#★ driaswrld #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

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andy-15-07 · 2 months

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hi! I love your feyd rautha fics 🥰 can you write one where the reader is pregnant with his child, a female, and he’s upset and cold with the reader because she’s not a male heir? but then, when she’s born, he’s so transfixed by her beauty and just the fact that she’s his, and that he just melts and swears to kill anyone for her?

My precious one

masterlist ! pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The halls of the fortress echoed with an air of tension as Y/n, heavily pregnant with Feyd Rautha's child, moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors. Feyd, the formidable heir to House Harkonnen, had been distant and cold ever since learning the gender of their unborn child. Tradition demanded a male heir, and Y/n's heart ached with the weight of disappointment as she faced the impending birth of a daughter.

"Y/n," Feyd's voice, usually smooth and commanding, was laced with discontent as he entered their chambers. "What use is a daughter to the House of Harkonnen? You were to bear me a son, a worthy successor."

Y/n's eyes welled with tears, but she fought to maintain her composure. "Feyd, she is still our child, a part of both of us. She will carry the blood of House Harkonnen."

He scowled, turning away. "A daughter will bring us nothing but weakness. I need an heir who can command respect, instill fear in our enemies. This changes everything."

As the days passed, Feyd distanced himself further, leaving Y/n feeling isolated and burdened. The weight of disappointment settled upon her like a heavy cloak, but she clung to the hope that when their daughter arrived, Feyd's heart would soften.

The day of reckoning came, the air thick with anticipation as Y/n went into labor. Feyd, though present, maintained a stoic silence, his eyes betraying the turmoil within. The labor was arduous, but when the cries of their newborn daughter filled the room, Y/n felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief.

"She's here, Feyd," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Our daughter."

Feyd's eyes met the tiny, squirming bundle in Y/n's arms, and for a moment, the hardness in his gaze softened. The baby girl had a delicate beauty that seemed to captivate him, a sight that defied his earlier expectations.

"What shall we name her?" Y/n asked, her heart swelling with love for their precious child.

"Feydra," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a tenderness that surprised them both.

Feydra's arrival sparked a transformation in Feyd. The once cold and distant heir was now consumed by an overwhelming protectiveness and love for his daughter. As he held her for the first time, his fingers traced the contours of her tiny face, and he couldn't help but marvel at her innocence.

"She's ours, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I will do anything to protect her. No harm shall come to our Feydra."

From that moment on, Feyd became an attentive and devoted father. He would spend hours cradling Feydra in his arms, his stern countenance replaced by a softness that only she could evoke. The fortress, once a place of cold authority, became a haven for the blossoming love between father and daughter.

As Feydra grew, Feyd's determination to shield her from the harsh realities of their world intensified. He vowed to eliminate any threat that dared to cast a shadow over her, swearing to protect her with a fierceness that only a father's love could inspire.

One day, as father and daughter strolled through the fortress gardens, Feyd's eyes gleamed with an unspoken promise. "Feydra, my precious one, you are the future of House Harkonnen. No harm will befall you as long as I draw breath. I would destroy worlds to keep you safe."

Feydra, oblivious to the dangers that lurked beyond the fortress walls, gazed up at her father with adoration. In those moments, Feyd's heart swelled with a love that transcended bloodlines and tradition. The bond between father and daughter had forged a legacy that defied the expectations of House Harkonnen, proving that love could be a force more powerful than any political alliance or familial obligation.

#feyd rautha harkonnen x you #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagines #feyd rautha #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd oneshot #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler imagines #austin butler #austin butler x y/n #dune x reader #dune imagines #dune imagine #dune fanfiction #dune part 2

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demontobee · 9 months

Text

Good Omens is queering TV/storytelling - part 1: GAZE

I would argue that part of why Good Omens is so refreshingly queer is because it does not cater to the male gaze (which centers around the preferences - aesthetic, romantic, sexual, visual, logical, emotional, political ... - of mainly white men in positions of power):

no oversexualization of groups or types of people: Women or characters that could be read as female presenting are not overly sexualized. In fact, some of them are shown to be grimy, slimy and not sexual at all. All of them are real characters and not just cardboard-cutout on-screen versions of male misogynistic fantasies. They portray real people with real people problems. They are human, or exempt from our categories when portraying angels or demons. There are no overly sexualized bodies in general (as has so far also often been the case with young gay men, PoC, etc.), no fetishization of power imbalances, and not exclusively youthful depiction of love and desire.

sex or sexual behavior is not shown directly (yet): All imagery and symbolism of sex and sexuality is used not to entice the audience but is very intimately played out between characters, which makes it almost uncomfortable to watch (e.g., Aziraphale being tempted to eat meat, Crowley watching Aziraphale eat, the whole gun imagery).

flaunting heteronormativity: Throughout GO but especially GO2, there is very little depiction of heterosexual/romantic couples; most couples are very diverse and no one is making a fuss about it. There is no fetishization of bodies or identities. Just people (and angels and demons) being their beautiful selves (or trying to).

age: Even though Neil Gaiman explained that Crowley and Aziraphale are middle-aged because the actors are, I think it is also queering the idea of romance, love and desire existing mainly within youthful contexts. Male gaze has taught us that young people falling and being in love is what we have to want to see, and any depiction of love that involves people being not exactly young anymore is either part of a fetishized power imbalance (often with an older dude using his power to prey on younger folx) or presents us with marital problems, loss of desire, etc. – all with undertones of decay and patronizing sympathy. Here, however, we get a beautifully crafted, slow-burn, and somehow super realistic love story that centers around beings older than time and presenting as humans in their 50s figuring out how to deal with love. It makes them both innocent and experienced, in a way that is refreshing and heartbreaking and unusual and real.

does not (exclusively) center around romantic/sexual love: I don’t know if this is a gaze point exactly but I feel like male gaze and resulting expectations of what a love story should look like are heavily responsible for our preoccupation with romantic/sexual love in fiction – the “boy gets girl” type of story. And even though, technically, GO seems to focus on a romantic love story in the end, it is also possible to read this relationship but also the whole show as centering around a kind of love that goes beyond the narrow confines of our conditioned boxed-in thinking. It seems to depict a love of humanity and the world and the universe and just the ineffability of existence as a whole.

disability as beautiful and innate to existence: Disability is represented amongst angels by the extremely cool Saraqael and by diversely disabled unnamed angels in the Job minisode. Representation of disability is obviously super important in its own right, but is also queers what we perceive as aesthetically and ontologically "normal". Male gaze teaches us that youth and (physical and mental) health are the desirable standard and everything else is to be seen as a deviance, a mistake. By including disability among the angels, beings that have existed before time and space, the show clearly states that disability is a beautiful and innate part of existence.

gender is optional/obsolete: Characters like Crowley, Muriel and others really undermine the (visual and aesthetic) boundaries of gender and the black-and-white thinking about gender that informs male gaze. Characters cannot be identfied simply as (binary) men or women anymore just by looking at them or by interpreting their personalities or behaviors. Most characters in GO, and especially the more genderqueer ones, display a balance of feminine and masculine traits as well as indiosyncracies that dissolve the gender binary.

Feel free to add your own thoughts on this in the comments or tags!

#good omens s2 #good omens #good omens 2 #go2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #queer #queer TV #male gaze #thank you neil gaiman for cranking up the queer #neil gaiman #thank you neil gaiman

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amongemeraldclouds · 4 days

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Down Bad

Theo runs to the Astronomy Tower to confess his feelings for you before it’s too late.

Theodore Nott x f!Reader

Warning: fluff, no use of y/n, kissing. Inspired by the Taylor Swift song with the same title. The first paragraph may sound grim, but I swear this is a fluff piece!

✿ Masterlist | 762 words

Theodore Nott had really screwed up this time. His lungs burned and his heart pounded as he raced towards the Astronomy Tower where he was about to lose the love of his life. If he was too late, you would never know how he felt. Let alone have the future he wanted with you. No, he can’t think that way.

He allowed himself a moment catch his breath when he reached the top of the Astronomy Tower. When he saw you looking out beyond the ledge, his worst fears were confirmed. He ran towards you and grabbed your waist, holding tight as he walked backwards. You yelped in surprise, struggling against your unexpected assailant.

The struggle sends you both toppling down the floor, away from the ledge. You squirmed beneath - oh, Theo. Your breath caught in your throat when you realized he’s on top of you. Salazar, everything about him was so beautiful. You kicked yourself internally, willing your brain to catch up with your heart.

“What in Salazar’s name, Theo! What are you doing?” You seethed, angry and confused. You had been avoiding him for a week since he broke your heart. Picture this: you finally mustered up the courage to confess your feelings for your childhood best friend only to be met by silence - not even rejection, just silence. Like your feelings were not even worth his words. And now he tackles you?

“No, I should be saying that to you. What are you thinking jumping off from the Astronomy Tower? You can’t just leave me before I tell you that I love you too.” His intense gaze burned into you.

You blinked at his words, confused. “Pray tell, dear genius, what does one do at the Astronomy Tower?”

It was his turn to blink back in confusion. He looked off to your side and noticed your telescope and scattered instruments. He was too stunned to speak.

“I was doing our Astronomy homework, you dolt, which you would know about if you weren’t busy skiving off with Mattheo.”

“But Pansy said you’ve been depressed lately and was alone in the Astronomy Tower,” he thought back at the conversation. Sure, you had been down bad for him and because of him this week. You couldn’t even get through quidditch practice without crying and cursing his name.

And yet - “So you just assumed I’m going to throw my life away for you?” You scoffed. “I’ll get over you someday, but I don’t know how you’ll ever get over yourself,” you teased. It was adorable how his cheeks blushed in embarrassment though you hated how quickly your anger faded.

He buried his head into the crook of your neck to hide in shame just like all those times you’ve cuddled together. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders out of habit. “I didn’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted.

“So there is hope yet for you and your ego,” you mused before your mind snagged on the rest of his words. “Wait, did you tell me you love me?”

He raised his head and looked back at you, “I did. I’m sorry I froze when you confessed your feelings. You deserved better. I’m not good with these things, but for you I will try. I love you. Ti amo così tanto.”

“Well, you already know how I feel,” you deadpanned, trying to channel your teenage petulance despite the warmth blooming in your chest.

“I don’t get to hear it again?” He asked with a hopeful expression.

“No,” you replied, tilting your head away from him though you couldn’t hide the grin on your face.

“Too bad, I was hoping to kiss you after you said it.”

You looked back at him, returning the challenge, “kiss me and maybe I’ll say it.”

So he did. Electric bliss shot through you the instant your lips connected. His lips were soft and warm, the taste of cigarettes and mint mingled together as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. You gasped at the sensation and he took the opportunity to explore your mouth.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was a hundred ‘finally’s melting together into this one euphoric moment. You ran your hands through his hair, needing him closer. Needing more.

The kiss was over way too soon as he propped himself on his elbows to look at you. He saw everything he needed to know in your expressive eyes. Still, he asked, “will you tell me now?”

“No,” you bit back a smile.

“Guess I’ll just have to kiss you more.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: A literal Down Bad moment with Theo tackling you bahahaha.

#theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott fluff #theo nott #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #ts ttpd #ttpd #ttpd era #down bad #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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fanaticsnail · 7 months

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Snail Masterlist

Hello and welcome, I'm Snail!

I write mainly "x reader" for the One-Piece fandom, all catalogued below the cut. I enjoy writing in my free time, forever chasing the green leaf of lettuce dangling in front of my eyes. I hope you enjoy your time on this page. It is a pleasure carving out worlds that you get to be placed in the middle of. Love you 🖤

Ao3: Archive of our Own link, if you prefer reading on that platform.

WIP List: My current works in progress.

Request: Guidelines for asking for a particular craving to be written for you.

Fic Gift Swapping: I write for you, you write for me. It's a win-win.

Pollen Masterlist: NSFW for multitude of characters for the pollen-trope.

Ko-Fi: If you feel so inclined to support me as I keep creating works, this is a link to enable that should you so desire.

Fic Inspo: mood boards, clips and prompts for all to use.

Glimpses: parts of my life I share.

Fic Recommendations: a collection of works I find myself returning to, written by some beautiful authors.

"Straw Hats and Beyond"

Monkey D. Luffy:

Bachata (Dance Series) (one-shot)

Gyrating, thrusting, swaying and grinding. Where did the straw-hat captain learn to dance in this way? The crew, holding many a whispered conversation regarding the captain's sultry movements, finally is approached head-on by the quartermaster of the Going Merry. Flushed cheeks, gasped breaths and soft smiles ensue as the captain aims to teach her a few of his moves.

Run Away With Me (one-shot)

After being left after a night of passion by her marine lover, sorrow eclipsed the hardening heart of the owner of the library. The librarian, after swearing off sea-baring men, is physically swept off her feet by a mischievous, straw-hat wearing captain who woos her with his undivided support of her dreams of romance.

Australian Luffy (HC Drabbles)

Just some silly dialogue with Aussie slang from Monkey D "Loz"

Ravenous (NSFW one-shot)

Luffy is hungry, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He doesn’t care where it happens, how it happens, or what exactly happens - all he cares about is the who and when. The who is you, and the when is right now and until his hunger is fully satisfied.

Roronoa Zoro:

Blade Song(Dance Series) (one-shot)

The Straw-Hat pirate crew finds themselves amongst a fire-side, sea-front celebration. Swaying, gyrating and twirling occurs with all but one of the crew. The swordsman, never truly learning how to dance in such a way, regrets his miseducation as soon as he sees the object of his pining dancing within the arms of the blonde chef.

Flowers (one-shot)

Men are known to only receive flowers once in their lifetimes, and they are not even able to see them. The Straw-Hat botanist desires to rectify this for one member of the Straw-Hat pirates, the tri-sword wielding First Mate.

Gua-Sha (one-shot)

Slightly fixated by the dragging of the smooth rock against his crewmen's cheeks and jaw, Zoro immediately pipes up and welcomes the opportunity to have his face massaged to relieve any built up tension and pressure behind it. Pining always from afar, Zoro hopes this small moment would bring the two closer together.

Something Like That (request) (one-shot)

A traveler finds themselves accidentally crashing an exclusive event at Baratie, celebrating a foreign holiday with unusual customs. Pulling you away from your evening meal, your eyes met with the hazelnut gaze of a green-haired swordsman. A sprig of emerald leaves, pearls of flowers and a ribbon hung above your heads - what is this? why is he leaning down to press his lips atop your own?

You Deserve Better (Pollen!One-Shot NSFW)

Zoro has inhaled pollen while lost and away from his crew. His crew return from a day of celebration and tease him for is senseless navigational skills. But you notice something's wrong with him. He's hot. So, so hot. And he needs your help to combat his illness. You want to help him so badly, why won't he let you get Chopper? And why was he holding you like that?

Blackleg Sanji:

Bar Shift (4/4 Series)

An all-rounder, front of house manager finally acquires the first day off she's had in a very long time. Sanji, the ever faithful "work-husband" makes her breakfast just in time for Patty to break the news to her that her peaceful day off is to come to an end. Covering the bar shift for one of her staff members, shenanigans and mutual pining ensues.

Waltz (Dance Series) (one-shot)

The chief negotiator and relations expert of the Straw-Hat pirates attempts to teach her captain how to perform a waltz to woo the upper class in a formal setting. She finds joy in movement, but Luffy himself was found to be truly incapable of performing the dance to an adequate level. At lunch, she notices how Sanji holds himself; his posture strong and rigid as he effortlessly glides around the table. She asks him to dance, and he truly surprises her.

3, 2, 1 (request) (3/3 Series)

Sanji notices some interesting etchings against the Going Merry's Chronicler's Journal. Questioning her, she informs him the 'x's and numbers are indicating his amount of cigarette breaks per day and the duration they are taken. Brainstorming ideas on how to achieve the same rush of adrenaline, endorphins and breath control in a healthier way than nicatine addiction; the chronicler, in her genius, suggests they share kisses and bold embraces for the duration of his many breaks: all kept under the strict limit of the egg-shaped timer.

"Someone. Someone Help Me" (NSFW Pollen!Drabble)

"Thank You" (NSFW Pollen!One-Shot)

Sanji has inhaled pollen. There is nobody around to help him and he is a desperate, pleading, subby mess.

Your Flirty Chef (one-shot)

Sanji has been working hard lately, your flirty chef no longer as present as you’d like him to be. You both have some unspoken flirtation between you, hopefully something to shatter by moulding him beneath the touch of your hands.

Sanji x Reader x Zoro:

Eyes Meeting (NSFW part 1)

Lips Brushing (NSFW part 2)

Sanji is in a relationship with the ships chronicler. Zoro accidentally stumbles across them engaging together in intimacy. As soon as his eyes meet with the chronicler's, he is enchanted by their beauty in their bliss.

Koby:

To the ends of the earth (one-shot)

The newest recruits taken under the wing of Vice-Admiral Garp are desperately required of breaking in their training. Leaving them in the care of a young lieutenant, Koby begins to develop a crush on his superior as he pushes his body under her command to perform to the best of his abilities.

Téir Abhaile Riú (3/3 Series)

The mighty Marine vessel Vice-Admiral Garp captains was in dire need of repair. Docking against the peer of a small country town, the Marines are welcomed to the shore by an impromptu performance by the local town celebrity band: the 'Merry Mellifluous Quint'. One of the five members catches the eye and attention of the fast-learning, pink haired cadet who in term becomes immediately smitten by the attention she receives from him.

It's All Okay (NSFW One-Shot)

When submissive Koby gives in to his dominant craving, and all he's met with is support, praise and affirmation in your arms.

Trafalgar D Water Law:

Law Wants You (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law wants you. He wants all of you.

Don't Be So Shy (NSFW Drabble)

Trafalga Law enjoys comforting a shy reader while they take control.

You're The Cure (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Law bought you a pretty flower from a port, wanting to impress you with it, and perhaps use it as a courting gift should you want him. As the Polar Tang's Herbalist, you know there is more to this flower than meets the eye. Trafalgar Law got more than what he bargained for with this little gift.

That Thing I Like (One-Shot)

You are ships counselor to the Polar Tang. For the past four days, you had been called into Law’s office over the Den-Den transponder speakers. The crew assumes you two had began a relationship, but what actually occurs is far more intimate than any romantic encounter.

Eustass Kid:

Shameless (NSFW Series 3/3)

You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

"Good Boy" (one shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Restrained (NSFW one-shot)

Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Cellist Kid (NSFW drabble)

Your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Massacre Soldier Killer:

Will You Let Me? (NSFW Pollen!one-shot)

Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Soul King Brook:

Parts You Left Behind (one-shot)

You are the ship’s counselor aboard the Polar Tang. Giving your captain the permission he desires to behave idiotically with the two Nakama captains, you give yourself permission to behave with similar unbridled stupidity. The Soul-King Brook has your romantic attention: you love his energy and decide to reciprocate his flirtations, no matter how crass and distasteful they come across.

Multiples:

Get Well Soon (Drabble one-shot)

You're sick, and they do their best to support you through it. Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk

Mistletoe (one-shot) (Straw-Hat holiday special)

The botanist aboard the Going Merry shares a cultural tradition with her crew; introducing them and reeducating them on the importance of mistletoe and the mischievousness of her playful lips. Every single member receives a kiss from the botanist; all welcome to her sharing her culture with them.

The Selkie and the Sailor: Mini Fic Drabble (One-Shot)

A mythical creature has rescued the captain of the straw-hat pirates from drowning in the sea. As her eyes meet with the crew, she is immediately taken with one of the sailors: Zoro, Sanji, Luffy

Kiss their cheek (Drabble one-shot)

It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind? Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

Recovery (one-shot)

You are in a recovery cot in a hospital willing to accommodate you, resting as your body heals from your latest battle. Expecting to recover alone, you are pleasantly surprised to find yourself within the company of the person you craved the most.

Zoro, Sanji

Please, I'll be good (one-shot)

After rescuing you in the heat of battle, he can no longer contain his desires for you. He was so good. He can keep being good if it means you'll keep kissing him.

Koby, Sanji, Corazon, Sabo, Buggy, Shachi, Ace, Penguin

Last One Laughing (One-Shot)

The Heart-Pirate crew were bent on getting their Captain to smile, no matter the cost. Swapping jokes after mealtime, you all continued to check over your shoulder to see if you managed to break the upturned curve into Law's face.

Platonic Heart-Pirates x reader

"Can You Buy Me Supplies?" (Dialogue)

How the OP characters react to you asking them to purchase you sanitary items for your menstruation period. One sentence dialogue.

Robin, Franky, Chopper, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Brook, Kid, Killer, Law, Mihawk, Crocodile, Buggy, Shanks, Beckman, Doflamingo, Corazon.

How They Kiss (drabble)

Four different kisses with all of your favourites. Where would you place them in these categories?

Hallmark Piggyback (drabble)

Short piggyback on @indydonuts post about OP characters in a hallmark movie. Drabble is for Law x reader x Mihawk - amnesia trope

Lathered Up (NSFW One-Shot)

After spending far too long at sea in the Polar Tang, all you wanted was a shower. Your two lovers join you in ridding their bodies of grime while enjoying ridding you of your stress. Shachi x afab!reader x Penguin

"A little bit older"

Buggy D. Clown:

You Kissed the Clown? (15/15 Series)

An upper-class tinkerer finds herself amongst the crew of the Staw-Hat pirates. Falling within the blast of a giant flash of red smoke and captured with her crew in the claws of the Buggy Pirates; she is confronted by her flight, fight and freeze response. Immediately, she finds another way of distracting the infamous clown-captain: a passionate and disarming kiss. As time and distance fall between them, feelings of romance, infatuation, fascination and longing cling to the clown and the tinkerer in each other's absence. How could they feel so deeply for each other; they only shared one single kiss?

Happy Birthday, Pumpkin (one-shot)

Buggy longs to kiss you but always shies away in case his affection is not reciprocated. Finally, an opportunity presents itself for a consequence-free kiss and he can barely hold himself back in anticipation. Happy birthday!

I Can't Do This Without You (one-shot)(smut)

Buggy attempted to use some unusual, waxy pollen to form into a "buggy-ball". He was an idiot. He can't manage the consequences without his loyal and ever faithful crewmate to help him out.

A Small Kindness (Smut One-Shot)

A blue-haired man with a round red nose is down on his luck. He's lost everything, not a single berry to his name after being defeated again by the straw-hat crew. A small kindness from a stranger propels him to get back on his feet. How could he repay you? Surely you needed something in return.

Headcanons & Drabbles:

Soft-Dom Buggy Bratty Buggy Cross-Guild Interrogation The Clown Apologises

Buggy x Reader x Mihawk:

Swing, Sway, Shag, Smimmy (Buggy x Reader x Mihawk) (4/4)

Buggy is infatuated with his prized acrobat. He issues a dance night-off for his pirate crew, choosing to "make a move" in the hopes of charming his beautiful acrobat under the hawk-like gaze of his guest of honour. Unbeknownst to Buggy, the feeling of infatuation is mutual regarding the acrobat. Can they learn to 'play nice' to woo the acrobat? Yes, yes they can.

Dracule Mihawk:

The Apprentice (6/7 Series)

Mihawk is a bitchy boss, the apprentice is his bratty underling. Professionalism, sword-mastery and affiliation for wine consumption drives their relationship. Mihawk pushed his apprentice a little too far, prompting her to submit a formal resignation effective immediately. Calling her bluff, he attempts to chaperone her towards a cellar door to begin an afternoon of wine-tasting, only to find absence at his side as his apprentice simply walked away from him. And he was angry about it. Ongoing series.

You Should Be Sad (Completed Series):

Upon rising to the title of Warlord and Worlds-Greatest-Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk began to neglect his fiancé and her desires. Unable to provide her with the one thing she truly longed for, he remained apathetic as she broke from their lengthy courtship. A decade later, and many a bottle of brandy relinquished, he drifts to Baratie in hopes of drowning away the memory of her: only to have his hopes shattered as the hired band begins to play with his ex-fiancé singing her vengeance at him.

Let Me Take Care of You (one-shot)

The personal assistant to Dracule Mihawk notices he is not quite acting himself: a small wince as he reaches for his breakfast wine glass, a grimace as he draws it to his lips and the narrowing of his eyes as he begins to slouch. Luckily for the both of them, the assistant has a resume of many a skill: remedial massage being the key element provided to the broody warlord. He reluctantly accepts their touch, longing for the burden to be released from his shoulders.

El Tango de Mihawk (one-shot)

A talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilize it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognizes them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.

The Marine's Mistake (request) (one-shot)

Something horrible occurred to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognize the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.

My Love Mine All Mine (request) (one-shot)

Mihawk returns to his castle in kuraigana nine days after he was due to return. He finds his lover sleeping in his bed, face falling to rest atop his pillow. Soft drabble, pining, longing.

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling (request) (one-shot) Part 2

Mihawk notices his Fledgling, an apprentice he took under his wing, has become lazy in their training. Upon one final vocal reprimand, they collapse; sputtering a cocktail of saliva, blood and... petals? Is that petals in their hand? Surely not.

The Spear and the Sword (request) (one shot)

Drabble Part 2

Mihawk is required by Vice-Admiral Garp to obliterate an approaching armada of barbaric pillagers from their attack on a marine base. As this army was not enough for him to handle alone, Garp calls in another warlord, a ferocious warrior-woman armed with a spear, to aid in his ability to complete this task with as much succession as possible with as little damage done to the defenseless base. Both begin their armed ascension, showcasing their abilities in contest to see how many troops they best by the end of battle, against how many injuries they themselves acquire in the thralls of combat.

Little Sparrow (one-shot: drabble)

Mihawk has been up with your daughter, soothing her as she experiences her leap weeks. You spend some moments with your husband as he holds her in his arms.

Sapsorrow: (8/10 Series)

The two wards of Dracule Mihawk and his green-haired apprentice stumble across a large collection of treasure in one of the large and ornate wings of Castle Kuraigana. The central object in the room is a embroidered pillow, a small circlet of intricately carved gold lay in the middle.

The three of them begin fiddling with it, it becomes stuck on the green-haired swordsman's finger. A struggle occurs, the ring slips from his finger and a large bell-like tinkle rings against the marble floor. Perona frantically tells the Ward to get it before it's noticed. She stoops, finds the ring and slips it on for safekeeping.

Mihawk, stumbling across the three of them, accuses them of toying with the object. His eyes widen as his focus shifts to the ring fitting perfectly on the appropriate finger of his ward.

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it."

Macule Drihawk (drabble)

When Dracule Mihawk drinks, he becomes an entirely different person. That person's name is Macule Drihawk.

Red Haired Shanks:

Dancando Lambada (one-shot)

After your ship crashed just off the coast line of your hometown, your friend: the bride, is left without a Captain to perform her ceremony to unite her with her beau. Fortunately for you, you see a ship coming in off the coastline. Will their captain help you in exchange for a night of good food, fine drink and sensual dancing?

Remember Me (one-shot)

Ten years since the love of his life was claimed by the sea, Shanks finds himself celebrating her memory with many a drink in a fishing village. Spluttering over his amber ale, Benn Beckman pales in freight at the sight of a woman drinking merrily at the bar. But it couldn't be her, she was lost to him.

Where is my bride (Sapsorrow Spin Off Drabble)

Once lost, again found: Shanks has accidentally bcome lockd into a cruel plot to have him marry a woman he has never seen nor heart of. The timer is ticking, the claws of the spectre of a woman scorned tethered to him and awaiting to claim his soul should he fail. He has seven days to wed. But where are you?

Two More Times (one-shot NSFW)

A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

Drabbles & Headcanons:

Shanks Likes to Dance HC Drabble

Sir Crocodile:

My Favorite (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Sands of Time: Intentions of Series

Sir Crocodile thought he was safe from the intentions of the haunting Sapsorrow Queen. His soul has been laid claim, his time is running out. How can he have a stranger fall in love with his within the year? Would she truly take his sould should he fail?

When We Wake (one-shot)

Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

The Duality of Sir Crocodile (NSFW drabble)

The duality of a dominating gentleman. Spoiling and endearing, encumbering and brutal.

Benn Beckman:

When You Had The Chance (one-shot)

Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. One of them would be leaving with their life, the other fallen at their feet. Instead of stifling his fury, you decided to elevate your captain’s wrath: seeking vengeance of your own against the man who once cast you aside after you confessed your feelings for him. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved.

"Mister Beckman" (one-shot)

The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Kind And Gentle (One-Shot)

Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

You shot a baby? (Dialogue)

Part 2 (one-shot)

Donquixote Rosinante:

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

Daughter of the Sea (5/5 series)

As a reformed spymistress working for the new title holder of "Worlds Greatest Swordsman," you are prepare for the worst, anticipating every possible outcome. What you did not prepare for was Mihawk's oldest rival presenting you with a sight that had the pair of you perplexed: his latest plunder.

After first meeting years ago, Beckman had longed for you from afar. All those feelings come flooding back to him once he sees the young baby in your arms.

Despiértame mi Corazon (Dance Series) (Gift One-Shot)

You have been on the run from Donquixote Doflamingo, sheltering and caring for a young, sick child. Your emotions catch up with you as you process the change your life has led you to. You’ve left it all: family, career, friends - all to support Rosinante in his quest to cure the boy. Upon seeing you in this state, your Corazon will do anything to see you smile again.

Donquixote Rosinante's Journey with Modern Slang (crack dialogue)

Mild background context: Law's skills as a doctor saved a person with the devil-fruit with the ability grant a single wish. Law used that wish to bring back Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante as he was: lying in the snow and unresponsive. He wanted the chance to use what he's learnt to save him, and save him he does. Both now in their 20s, Rosi is adjusting and attempting to learn the current slang to relate to his grown son.

Rosinante's Trip Down Under (one-shot)

Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

Donquixote Doflamingo:

Pretty Red Ribbon (one-shot)

After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Play Stupid Games Win Stupid Prizes (NSFW One-Shot)

Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Bogard:

The Break is Never Easy (Dance Series) (request) (one-shot)

You were invited as an artist to showcase your work at the bi-anual ball thrown for the marines. A decade has passed between you and your severance from your ex-fiance, old flames reigniting as tension builds throughout the night.

Misc Drabbles:

You're Angry at the Tall Men: Drabble (One-Shot)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him. Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo.

An Affectionate Embrace: Drabble (One-Shot)

Forehead Kisses (short drabble)

You're being a brat because they're neglecting you. Prepare to be greeted with the forehead kiss you crave from them.

Zoro, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Beckman, Mihawk

Interrogation (crack dialogue)

Cross-Guild crack dialogue x reader.

"A little bit bolder"

Chef Zeff:

Honey Glazed (one-shot)

After completing the closing shift of chaotic energy aboard Baratie, conversations turn into flirtations as the chef's hold a completely hypothetical conversation regarding how to adequately prepare and cook-with human. The front of house manager offers her body to be the central focus for the fixation of the chef's unhinged thoughts. Zeff does not shy away from a flirtatious challenge.

Monkey D Garp:

Bonnie Lass: Part 1, Part 2(NSFW) (2/2 Series)

As the assistant to one of the warlords of the seas, it is your task to man the small den-den-mushi earpiece assigned to Mihawk: managing his assignments, scribing the notes of importance. As the receiver drones on, you answer the call and are greeted to the familiar brogue of the Vice-Admiral you had not yet met face to face.

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arcielee · 1 month

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Fare Well

Photo credit.

Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 1600+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, knifeplay, object penetration, kissing, p in v, creampie, using intercourse as an escape from reality. Author’s Note: Listen, the new trailer came out and our muses are buzzing again. This smutty piece was inspired by this story by @valeskafics as well as this beautiful edit by the beautiful @bucknastysbabe. The title is from Hozier, as you all should come to expect now, and this can also be read on ao3. This is dedicated to @f4ll-for-you, my wonderful Tumblr kindred spirit who made me into the Aegon girly I am today. 💜 A huge thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta reading and making sure this all made sense. 💜 Enjoy!

“What troubles you, your grace?”

You had remained in the shadows and listened to the voices grow louder, though still muted through the walls, with their worries of what was to come next. They exited one by one, the morose men chosen to serve the king’s council, with the lord commander of the kingsguard escorting the queen dowager donned in green, her eyes downcast and her expression etched with her perpetual worry since her lord husband had passed. The lord hand was the last to leave, his face lined and wearied, his slow gate returning him to the tower where he would–as Aegon confided to you–continue to pen letters to garner support across the realm.

It was only then that you dared to enter the room. You saw Aegon was seated at the head of the table, his violet gaze placed on the Valyrian dagger in his hands, the iron and rubies that once belonged to the Conqueror gleaming above him.

The sun was streaking through the windows behind, giving him a kingly glow. His hair was a shade lighter and his cheeks sunkissed from the hours aback Sunfyre; despite the threat beyond the horizon, you knew that Aegon enjoyed patrolling the skies with his brothers.

It was these little confessions that he shared with you in the clandestine moments stolen within the walls of the Red Keep. He told you how he wished to be distracted, to allow a reprieve for his mind that weighed heavy with this anointed crown, and you were just this distraction, flesh and blood pulsing with your desire.

It was then he looked up to see you still shyly posted in the doorway. “You seemed troubled, your grace,” you repeated with kindness, with concern.

“I am now always troubled, it feels,” his smile was forced. “It seems to be something that comes with the weight of this.” He removed the crown and it echoed dully as he dropped it on the table. “But perhaps you can serve your king.”

Your foot pushed the door until it closed soundly, and you took a step towards him. For a moment you saw the boy you had grown up with, mischievous and smirking, peering up at you from beneath the title of king. “This is why I am here,” your reply was sultry, and you saw how the black began to swallow the color of his eyes. “To serve, your grace.”

Aegon sheathed the dagger and set it aside his crown before slouching back to spread his legs wider in the ornate chair he sat. Your stomach tightened at the sight of his thick outline against his thigh, pressing through his slacks, and you felt the flutter of that desire trilling your spine, spilling back into your veins.

Your heart vibrated beneath and his lips curled upwards when he noticed where your eyes fell. His large hand patted his thigh.

The gesture summoned you and you moved within his arms reach. He pulled you onto his lap, his face burying into the curve of your neck with a groan, a deep inhale that tickled. “Your grace,” you giggled, squirming in his hold, your blood warming your skin.

“It is only us now,” he murmured against your skin, “and all I wish now is to tear away these layers, lay you on this table, and have what lies beneath your finery.”

“You would not dare,” you whispered, your eyes bright.

His fingers dug into your hip while his other hand snaked under your thighs to lift you up from his seat. You giggled again, your arm quick to wrap around his neck to brace for his step forward as he set you on the edge of the table. His hands pawed at your layers, searching to find the dagger and he began to slice through your fabric.

Your surprise spilled from your lips. “Aegon!”

He did not falter, but sheathed it and set it back down so his hands could grab fistfuls, tearing away the fabric to allow you room to part your thighs and welcome him. Your hands moved from his chest and combed through his hair, smoothing the indent left behind from his crown. He hummed from your touch, his hands moving from your hips and following your curves to your backside, pulling you closer so he could tilt his chin forward and capture your lips.

His kiss devoured you wholly, pulling the air from your lungs with the dizzyingly desperation of his lips against your own. Your arms wrapped again around his neck and you rolled your hips for friction against the warmth he emitted through his royal garb, your fingers clawing at the fabric.

You could feel his smile against your lips, his fingers returning to his hold on your hips. The outside of his palm rested on the dip and his thumbs pressed to the bone, eliciting a pleasure that jolted through you. You moaned softly and his mouth broke away, wet kisses that now trailed along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the slope of your neck.

“Aegon,” you could not help but whine, and you tightened your legs around his hips.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, flushed. For a moment you were lost in his heady gaze, only brought back once you felt his hand trailing the detailing of your bodice and pressing until you laid back on the table. His other hand retrieved the dagger once more and your smallclothes were cut away, the air crisp against the slick between your thighs.

“So wet for me already,” he clucked his tongue, “and I have barely begun.”

Your stuttered response only further goaded him. His brow cocked. “What was that?”

“Please,” you licked your lips. “Touch me, Aegon. Please.”

The darkness in his eyes glittered with the sunlight, and his satisfaction curled across his square jaw. “No. Not quite yet.”

Before you could protest, you felt the pressure of something that was smooth, almost cool to the touch. You peered down to see the sheathed dagger pressed sideways to your bare cunt, the ruby stone sliding against the slick, the blossom of your arousal allowing him a circular motion of the gemstone against the bundle of nerves.

You shuddered in response, your skin rising on your thighs and chest, and your head fell back, your hands pressing flat on the polished wood to anchor yourself. The unfamiliar touch began to build a familiar sensation, something that fluttered throughout, catching your exhale in your throat.

“Aegon,” you cried, his name spilling sickly sweet from your lips, an endearment with the desperation of your tone.

“Let me,” he soothed, his voice rasped with his intent focus.

He moved the hilt and its decorative ridges rubbed along your swollen nerves. You squealed with the touch and then the intrusion, feeling his palm press to the inside of your thigh. “Trust me,” he whispered, his eyes boring between your thighs. You relaxed to his touch, feeling the curve of the handle pressing sweetly within you.

It sparked lights before your eyes and Aegon was pleased. He moved his thumb to replace where the gemstone rubbed enticingly before, matching the tandem of the hilt that now pulled you upwards to the prior peak and then past. It filled your chest, a bursting euphoria that pulsed your walls around the handle.

“Sȳz riña,” his voice low with his praise. Good girl.

Your head lifted, drowsy, and you saw him touch the glossy shine that now covered the hilt, his fingers showing the sticky web of your climax. His eyes met with yours as he showed you, and his eyebrows raised when you pushed to sit up, your hand gently covering his own to pull it towards your lips, licking the ruby and tasting yourself.

It clattered to the cobblestone and his free hand now grabbed the nape of your neck, his lips finding yours with his returned desperation. Fingers collided to loosen his drawstrings, your hands pulling his cock free and guiding his blunt head to press against your silk entrance.

His large hand wrapped around the base and you cant your hips, angling yourself so his cock can slowly sink into your wet warmth. You mewled from the delicious stretch and he shuddered once he was fully buried between your thighs. Aegon paused, stealing a kiss, a taste of tenderness on his lips as he began to rock against you.

It started slow with a low groan spilling from his kiss swollen slips as he watched his cock disappear inside you again and again. He savored the lewd sounds, your soft cries as he pushed deeper within you, your fingers grasping to hold yourself upright, to remain as close to him as possible.

Your body still simmered with your prior release and it did not take much to build again. His hips snapped against yours with the wet sound of skin to skin, and your walls began to flutter. It is a breathless chorus, your soft gasps and his low groan, your pleasure pulling with a creamy spill of passion that tightened around him, his cock pulsing hotly within you.

You fell back to your elbows, trying to catch your breath, and Aegon slumped over, his damp brow pressing to yours, the mess of his golden waves falling across your face. His scent washed over you, exotic oils that were sent as gifts and the sheen of sweat on his skin.

The council chambers are noiseless now, and you hold still under the dimming candles lit for the chandelier above. It is another clandestine moment stolen, where your hearts thrummed in unison before slowing back to their regular pace, pulling you back to the heavy reality that settled in the quiet.

It lingered in the shadows, the faraway thought, the threat beyond the horizon, the echoed worries returning of what will come next.

Tumblr kindred spirits [taglist]: @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @qyburnsghost @namelesslosers

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon x female!reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #female!reader #fare well

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bedsyandco · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒

🫧 — {fem!reader x jack hughes}

🫧 — established relationsip! set a few years in the future. Reader and Jack are married! Reader is pregnant! Kind of set in Jack's POV I guess.

🫧 — in which Jack's wife is pregnant and a little emotional.

WC — 1.5K

"Babe” Jack whispers.

“Hm?”

“Can you scoot over a bit?” he asks

“I’m on the edge”

He looks over his shoulder, right at the face of his beautiful wife.

“Babe, I find that hard to believe,”

“What?” you ask, a little disoriented.

“There’s no way you’re on the edge when your face is pressed into my back, your legs are tangled with mine and our child is kicking me in the back.”

“But I am,”

“You’re not,” Jack argues.

“You scoot over,”

“I can’t. I’m on the edge of our California King bed that you insisted we get because you didn’t want to touch during the night because you always get too hot. Yet, you’re laying on top of me,”

“I am not,” you complain, nuzzling closer, if that were possible. “Shh go to sleep.”

Jack sighs loudly and says, “I can’t. You’re too hot and our child is kicking me in the back.”

“Yeah well, welcome to my world buddy. Can you stop talking? I'm tired.” you say.

Usually Jack wouldn’t care. He’d deal with it because he loved you and he wanted you to be comfortable, but he needed to get up early tomorrow morning and he really needed a good night’s sleep. Jack was beyond stressed. It felt like he was always 2 seconds away from having a panic attack.

His constant worry about you was driving him insane, but then he also had hockey to think about. The Devils had just lost in the third round of the playoffs. They were so close. Jack wanted nothing more than to win and hold that cup up. But then he realised he was about to hold his baby, and that was an even greater prize.

That was if he didn’t kill you first.

Turning over, you glared at him as he popped his head on one arm, looking over her to the amount of space behind you. “Baby, we could literally fit all my teammates beside you,”

“What does that mean?” you ask frowning

“I’m saying scoot the hell over!” he says, his voice rising. “You’re burning me up!”

“I want to sleep with you,”

“You are, but just give me some space so I don’t die of heatstroke!”

“Ugh, fine.” you say annoyed and rolled over to the other side of the bed.

Jack sighs, shaking his head and lays back down. He could finally breathe, but just as he’s about to fall asleep you say, “I just think it’s messed up that you won’t cuddle with me and I’m carrying your child, which is the reason I’m burning up!”

Jack opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. Here they go again.

“Sweetheart, I love cuddling with you. But I have to be up early to do press and clean out my locker. I can’t sleep through that and I definitely can’t sleep with you burning me up and our child kicking me the whole night. I love you though, you know that right?” Jack asks, looking over at you with a soft smile.

But you were glaring, lips pursed as you glared at him. “Oh yeah, I forgot it’s so hard being Jack Hughes and you need all the sleep you can get. While I can’t sleep a certain way due to the fact that it hurts because I’m the thing your child is sucking the life out of.”

“I thought you loved being pregnant.”

“I do!” you yell and his brows go up. “That’s not the point. I’m just reminding you that I don’t get to sleep or do any of the things that I wanna do anymore, but it’s fine. I’ll sleep all the way over here without the love and support from my husband because he needs to get some sleep. God forbid you don’t get any sleep.” you mumble and Jack wants to laugh. You were being ridiculous. But before he could tell you that, you look over to him and say, “And just a friendly reminder Jack Hughes, when this baby comes, say fucking good-bye to sleep.”

“I guess I should say good-bye to sleep now, because I’m sure as hell not getting any more tonight,” Jack says, holding your gaze.

Your eyes darken a little and Jack swears he’s never seen anyone as beautiful as his wife. Even when you’re a little crazy, hostile, and 7 months pregnant, you were still hot as fuck.

“You got that right, I just wanted to cuddle,” you say rolling away from him again.

When Jack hears you sniff he can’t help but smile. The emotional rollercoaster of a pregnant wife was no joke. Reaching out, he went to cuddle with you, but you smack his hand away.

“I don’t wanna cuddle now,” you mutter

“Fine,” Jack sighs, falling back onto his own pillow. Sometimes he just really couldn't win with you.

“I just want you to know, I did want to cuddle. But that’s gone now.”

“I hear you.” Jack replies.

“And I’m very upset.”

“I got that.” he says with a sigh, rolling on his side to look at you.

“I just don’t think it’s fair. I cook, I clean, I work. And I’m carrying your child.”

“And I appreciate you more than words can ever say.” Jack says sincerely.

“Then you'd cuddle with me!” you say exasperated.

“But baby, I need sleep too. And you’re literally a furnace.”

“Well if you need sleep so badly and I’m too hot and our baby won’t stop kicking you then go sleep somewhere else!” you yell

“Seriously?”

“Yes! Go to the couch”

Surely you were joking. But then you yank the covers off him and pull his pillow from under him, throwing both on the floor. He stands up and goes to pick up his pillow.

“I need sleep and I’m too mad to sleep with you here.” you mutter

“Because I won’t cuddle with you?”

“Yes!” you yell tears streaming down your face.

“Then come here, I’ll cuddle.” he says and ducks when you throw another pillow at his head.

“No! I don’t want to cuddle anymore!” you yell

“Then let’s just go to bed.” Jack mumbles

‘No! I’m mad!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jack says with a laugh, and why he would do that would be his last thought.

“Go!” you yell.

“If I go, I’m not coming back tonight.” Jack says

“That’s fine. Maybe tomorrow you won’t mind cuddling your wife and child.”

“Sweetheart, I said let’s cu-”

“I don’t wanna cuddle!” you yell laying your head on the pillow with a sob. “I just wanted you to want to cuddle with me!”

Watching as you cried, Jack sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He picked up his pillow and looked at you one more time. “You sure?”

“Yes. You broke my heart Jack.” you say.

He went to say something sassy back but he knew it wouldn't get him anywhere so instead he said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t wanna cuddle because of the blazing heat you were putting off. I love you. Good night.”

When you don't answer, Jack chuckles as he walks out of the room. His girl was so stubborn. Heading to the couch he lays down and stares at the ceiling. Only two more months and maybe he would get his normal wife back. He was lucky that some of the guys on the team had kids and also went through this process. If not he wouldn’t know it was normal for his wife to be completely and utterly irrational about the dumbest things.

Tonight it was cuddling.

Last week, it was because he ate the last oreo.

Next week, it might be because he breathed a little too hard.

Jesus. Two more months. He could do it.

Leaning back on his pillow he closed his eyes, thankful that he chose to spend so much money to get a comfortable couch. He hopes you stopped crying. He hates when you cry. He was tempted to check but he really didn’t want you to bite his head off. Just as he was about to drift off he felt someone beside him.

Opening his eyes, he saw you standing there.

You looked adorable, hair a mess, cute pyjama shorts, cheeks flushed. Wearing one of Jack’s T-shirts that you cropped. It kinda made you look like Winnie the Pooh. Jack still thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Jack?”

“Yeah babe?”

“Can I lie with you?”

Chuckling to himself he scooted over as far as he could to make space for you. As you lay down your stomach presses into his and Jack wraps his arms around you, kissing you cheek.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper.

“It’s okay baby. I’m sorry too.” Jack whispers.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” Jack says kissing you again.

The next morning, when he woke up with a sore back, all he could do was repeat three words over and over.

Two more months. Two more months. Two more months.

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📂 bedsyandco works!#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📜 cam's fics #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #hockey fic #hockey blurb #nhl fic #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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vampsywrites · 10 months

Text

I — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun & Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped

Word Count: 2.4k | AO3 LINK

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

"With the return of the sky people, our journey led us far, far up the horizon, where a towering mountain stood. Beyond the winding paths of its rocky terrain, nestled in the heart of nature's embrace, lay the village of the Iuva'ri clan—the ikran people of the mountains.

Iuva’ri was a beauty which both awed and intimidated those foreign to it. The village was tucked deep in a sheltered valley, bathed in the warm golden glow of the setting sun against the snow-capped peaks. A sanctuary hidden from the outside world. A perfect place for us to disappear without a trace.”

Flutters of the ikran's wings echoed loudly through the crisp air, alerting the people of their arrival. The once peaceful ambiance of the secluded village turned into a stir of commotion. Warriors sounded their horns, their urgent calls spreading like ripples through the village. The sight of the newcomers had ignited a sense of both curiosity and apprehension among the villagers, for rarely did travelers venture into their remote home.

As the crowd gathered at the center of the village, their gazes fixed on the newcomers, a mix of intrigue and wariness painted their expressions. Jake dismounted from his ikran gracefully, gesturing for his family to do the same. Neytiri's hand instinctively moved towards her bow, a hint of concern in her eyes. But before she could react, Jake rushed to stop her, his expression urging caution.

"Don't. Leave it," he murmured lowly, gently easing the weapon away from her grasp and tucking it back into the banshee's pouch. His mate sent him a disgruntled look in response but made no attempt to fight his decision.

"Alright. Come on," with a wave of his hand, Jake began to lead his family into the village, arms spread at his sides in an attempt to appear as docile as possible. "Let's be nice."

Neteyam followed in his father's footsteps, carefully observing his surroundings as he ascended the treacherous mountain slopes. His calculating eyes swept across the rugged terrain, taking in the awe-inspiring beauty of the snow-capped peaks and the vast expanse of the chalky landscape.

As they climbed higher, the air grew colder, and Neteyam shivered from the biting chill that enveloped them. The icy wind gnawed at his bones, and he pulled his shawl closer around him, seeking any respite from the relentless cold. This mountain was a stark contrast to the warm and humid forest he was accustomed to, and he felt the tingling sensation of numbness spreading across his exposed fingers.

As he navigated through unforgiving terrain, he found himself yearning for the comfort of home, longing for the lush green forest that offered a familiar warmth. Despite his reservations about this desolate place, he remained silent, his lips drawn into a tight line as he focused on the task at hand.

His attention was momentarily drawn away when a low whistle lanced through the air. Tilting his head up, Neteyam's gaze followed the sound, and he watched as a banshee glided gracefully through the skies.

With a thud, the beast landed before them, sending a thick cloud of dust into the air as its rider dismounted. The rider was a tall, elderly woman, her midnight black hair contrasting against her milk blue skin. Her frosty eyes scanned their features, taking in every detail with a sharp intensity. A thick coat of fur was draped over her shoulders, and a billowing cape trailed behind her as she sauntered towards them, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Olo’eykte Ìumayi,” Jake bowed his head low, fingers extending from his forehead in a gesture of welcome. “I see you.”

Neytiri too bowed her head, gaze drawn to the ground as she murmured out her greeting, “I see you, Ìumayi.”

The woman continued to remain silent, circling them like vultures. Neteyam stood firm in his spot, his eyes never leaving the chief’s stalking figure.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she broke the silence, her voice dripping with a leering caution, "Why do you come to us, Toruk Makto?"

Neteyam observed his father's reaction to the title, noting how he tensed up and his face contorted into an unsightly grimace. Given that the Iuva'ri clan's culture revolved around their sacred bond with Ikrans, it came as no surprise why his title held such immense significance to them.

In contrast to her husband's visible unease, Neytiri stood tall, her demeanor unyielding as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"We seek uturu," she declared.

In response to Neytiri's words, Ìumayi whipped around violently, her expression hardening as she directed a stern glower towards them. "Uturu?" she questioned sharply.

“Yes,” Jake affirmed. “Sanctuary. For my family.”

The people around them erupted into a hushed, agitated chatter, but the chief was quick to silence them all with a snap of her fingers.

“We have heard tales of your times at war, of your blood from the sky people, and of the victories that have earned you praise among many Na'vi," Ìumayi spoke with a measured tone, her voice heavy. "But my people are not at war. I apologize, but I cannot allow you to bring your bloodshed here."

Jake's response was immediate, a mix of desperation and determination evident in his voice as he hurriedly spoke, "I'm done with war," he asserted, lowering himself to scoop up Tuktirey into his arms. The little girl sought refuge in the safety of his embrace, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "I just want to keep my family safe."

Observing the tender scene, Ìumayi's stern exterior softened slightly, her warm eyes studying the family before her. Bowing her head in contemplation, she took a moment to weigh the consequences of her decision, fully aware of the significance of this encounter. With a heavy sigh, she finally lifted her head and made her verdict, "I will allow it."

The relief that washed over Jake was palpable, but before he could express his gratitude, Ìumayi raised a bony finger, signifying there was more to be said.

"I will allow it. On one condition," she continued, her gaze now turning towards Neteyam, holding him with an inquisitive gaze. "I understand you are the eldest, correct?"

Neteyam acknowledged the chief's attention with a nod, his heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

With a wave of her pale hand, Ìumayi turned to the crowd before her, calling out a name as she gestured for someone to come over. The crowd parted instinctively, revealing your figure. As you stepped closer and closer, Neteyam found his mouth growing dry once he fully took in your features.

Inky jets of midnight-black hair cascaded over your shoulders like a shimmering waterfall, adorned with an enchanting array of bioluminescent gems woven into each braid. Your skin, a mesmerizing hue of cool blue, appeared as though it were delicately bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Jagged, milk-white stripes adorned your limbs and face in an intricate pattern, reminiscent of a celestial canvas. It was as if the very hand of Eywa herself had delicately painted them onto you.

“This is my eldest daughter, Y/N," Ìumayi spoke with pride, gently guiding you to stand by her side, a strong, protective arm enveloping your shoulders. "With the recent passing of my beloved mate, she has stepped forward, assuming the role of Tsahìk."

You took a moment to study their curious expressions, your eyes reflecting an understanding for their situation, “It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

Neteyam stood in awe, watching as you gracefully acknowledged and greeted his family members. The solemnity of your father's absence was palpable, but your calm welcome brought a glimmer of warmth to the otherwise tense atmosphere. And as you turned to face him, the warrior felt his heart leap to his throat.

“Neteyam,” you called out, his name dripping off your lips like a sweet, thick syrup. The Omatikayan watched intently as you curled your fingers, tracing your hand up from your chest up to your forehead before extending it out towards him, icy gaze piercing through his very being, “I see you.”

Fuck.

Neteyam feels his mouth go slack, skin breaking out into a cold sweat as a rich, deep warmth spreads through him. It was a simple greeting, no more. You were merely welcoming them into your village—Trying to be courteous. And yet, why is it that the way you were looking at him left a searing burn in his chest? Twisting at his heart and sending his pulse into a rapid thrum until he could barely breathe?

Both Lo’ak and Kiri observed his reaction with amused grins. To knock him out of his trance, Kiri roughly shoved at Neteyam’s side, gesturing towards your awaiting figure. Almost immediately, he grounds himself, cheeks burning into a dark indigo.

"Tsahìk Y/N," he uttered shakily, his fingers clumsily returning the respectful gesture. His heart pounded blaringly in his chest as he gazed at you, trying to steady himself in your presence. "I see you."

Your smile, gentle like a soft breeze, acknowledged his greeting before you turned your attention back to your mother.

"I have reason to believe that this meeting with Toruk Makto's family is fated," your mother spoke out, "Many nights ago, before his death, my mate was blessed with a vision from Eywa herself. In the sacred embrace of dreams, the spirits revealed to him a profound prophecy of two clans uniting as one—a woman and a man forging an unbreakable bond."

The words of their chief hung in the air, and a hushed silence fell over the gathering as the significance of her statement registered with everyone present.

"As you all know," she continued, her gaze sweeping across the crowd, "I am not getting any younger, and my time draws nearer to its end. And I remind you all that the weight of this responsibility was not one I bore alone; a Tsahìk needs an Olo’eyktan by their side."

A moment passed as the implications of her words settled into Neteyam's mind, and then realization dawned on him.

"This vision bestowed upon my mate," she began, "is not to be taken lightly. It is a direct call from Eywa herself, and as I stand before you today, I believe that the very individuals foreseen in that vision are here before us."

Ìumayi's gaze locked onto Neteyam, her eyes seeming to peer into his very soul. "With Eywa's guidance," she continued, "I propose a union between my daughter and Toruk Makto's eldest son."

The people around them erupted into chaos, their voices rising in a cacophony of opinions. Some had cried out in agreement while some were outraged at the idea of an outsider leading the clan. And as the concerns of his parents too filled the air; Neteyam felt a tumult of emotions within him. He knew their apprehensions were driven by love and care, yet there was an unexplainable energy surging through his veins, compelling him to step forward, to embrace the path laid out before him.

Before he could fully process the weight of his decision, his lips moved with a life of their own, the words escaping him faster than he could think, "I accept."

The crowd falls deathly silent at his declaration.

As the weight of his own words settled in, a storm consumed Neteyam. Accepting this union had been an unforeseen choice, one he had never anticipated making. It led him down a path he had never imagined walking, and uncertainty clawed at the very core of his being.

And yet, as he turned to look at you, he found these worries falling silent. The sight of you ignited a surge of emotions within him, an overwhelming rush that defied comprehension. It was as though an irresistible, magnetic force was drawing him closer to you, as if every beat of his heart called for your name.

The warrior heaved a sigh, lowering his gaze to the ground and bowing his head as a gesture of respect to your mother.

“I am willing to accept this union," Neteyam affirmed, his eyes flickering back to meet yours, "Only if she will have me.”

Lo’ak's lips twitched, a hint of a grin threatening to break free, but he bit down on his lips, holding back the laugh that threatened to escape. His gaze met Kiri's, and they exchanged a knowing look, both equally amused and astonished by their older brother's unexpected behavior. Neteyam had always been the pillar of stability and composure in their family, making his impulsive acceptance of the proposal all the more surprising.

Lo’ak turned to glance at their parents, noticing his mother's eyes which were wide with concern. It was evident that she wanted to say something, but their father subtly pulled her back, silently urging her to hold her words for the moment.

Neytiri took a moment to study Neteyam's face, the resolve and determination etched across his features. Their gazes locked, and she saw a depth of conviction in her son's eyes that she hadn't witnessed before—a fierce certainty that he had made the right choice, even if it was sudden.

In that moment of silent understanding, Neytiri nodded her head, her concerns momentarily quelled. "If that is what he wishes," she said, her voice softening with acceptance, "we will support him."

Ìumayi’s smile grew slightly wider, her eyes shimmering with approval as she turned her attention to you. "Good. Now, ma’ite, what say you?" she inquired, her tone gentle yet expectant.

The world around you seemed to blur for a moment as you locked eyes with Neteyam, the unspoken bond between you both intensifying.

From the days of your childhood, you had already accepted the prospect of a planned marriage, or at best, one founded on companionship. To you, as long as your partner proved amiable and undemanding, it would be enough. And yet, you could not have even begun to imagine that you would end up in a marriage with Toruk Makto's son.

In the face of the unexpected proposal, you responded with a firm nod, your voice steady with conviction, "If Eywa wills it, then I shall accept as well."

The sight of Neteyam's smile and the exuberant whip of his tail around his feet brought a surge of unforeseen warmth to your heart. The moment felt surreal, like a dance with destiny that had been set into motion long before this day. Perhaps, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Your mother nodded, her expression reflecting satisfaction and pride.

"Then it is settled," she declared firmly, "Toruk Makto and his family shall stay with us, and his son shall be promised to my daughter. We'll teach them our ways and treat them as our own."

“May Eywa bless their path."

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

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grimoiresheart · 3 months

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nothing will ever put into words how beautiful, rich and complex the history of butches and femmes is. the way these identities encapsulate the nuance of dyke gender, affection and the inherent longing to be seen - truly seen for who we are, in a world that often times, seems to have forgotten us.

thinking of those who came before us, how the ofos butches would curl a cigarette in their hands, and watch a femme from across the bar with long nails tap her glass, in anticipation of that one moment that tells them both it was all worth it. the gentle smearing of lipstick, the confidence from straightening out a tie. we have always performed for one another, and known each other far beyond the capability or understanding of anyone outside of our community.

i long to see the theatrics, the drawn out gazes filled with the possibilty of something more. the love letters adorned with perfume and spring violets, a gentle hand finding its way underneath the hem of a worn out vest. i long to love and be loved in the only way that we have ever known, with unbridled fervor spilling out at the edges, with the intimacy found beside candlelight and intertwined between satin sheets. the promise that we will always find each other.

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hsjazebel · 19 days

Text

Passion in Tokyo*

Word count: 2280

A/n: just a japanrry fic

Content warning: smut, 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink

Tokyo welcomed us with its orderly chaos and its frenetic beauty. As we walked through the crowded streets, Harry seemed to have a secret hiding behind his playful smile. I couldn’t figure out what he was up to, but his excitement was contagious and it made me feel like I was in the middle of an amazing adventure.

Every place we visited seemed to be carefully chosen by Harry, and every look, every gesture, was full of meaning. I wondered what he was up to, but I didn’t dare ask him, fearing to ruin the magic of the moment.

When we finally arrived at the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, the golden light of the sunset tinged the surrounding landscape with warmth. Harry seemed engrossed in his thoughts as my heart pounded as I waited to find out what he had in store for us.

As we walked through the garden, the rustling of the leaves and the sweet scent of the flowers created an enchanting atmosphere. Harry held my hand gently, but his gaze reflected silent determination. I wondered what he was thinking as we ventured deeper and deeper into the heart of the garden.

At a certain point, we came to a romantic little bridge that crossed a quiet lake. The sunset light danced on the water, creating golden reflections that illuminated our path. Harry stopped in front of the bridge, his gaze scanned the horizon with a mixture of emotion and serenity.

My heart began to beat faster in my chest as I wondered what was about to happen. It was as if time had stopped, leaving just the two of us in a moment suspended in eternity. With a sigh, I turned to Harry, ready to face whatever fate had in store for us.

The tension in the air was palpable as we exchanged meaningful glances. Harry took a deep inhale and knelt in front of me, revealing a small box hidden in the palm of his hand. My heart leapt in my chest as my eyes filled with tears of joy and wonder.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice shaking, “ever since I met you, my life has changed in ways I never imagined. You are my light, my smile, my everything. I can't imagine spending a just a moment without you by my side. I would like to ask you... would you like to marry me?"

My hands trembled as I opened the box, revealing a gorgeous, sparkling ring. My words were lost in the tumult of emotions overflowing inside me. With a bright smile, I nodded slowly.

Harry looked at me with eyes bright with hope and love, and my breathing deepened as I watched him. The words hung in the air for an infinite moment, before they finally came out of my mouth with a sweetness I didn't know I possessed.

'Yes, Harry,' I replied with a trembling voice, 'yes, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.'

A smile of joy lit up Harry's face as he stood up and hugged me tightly. The weight of the box in his hand became a tangible sign of our commitment to each other, a symbol of our love that would last forever.

The sunset colored the sky with shades of pink and gold as we exchanged sweet promises and whispers of love. In that moment, the world around us seemed to disappear, leaving us alone in our universe of happiness and hope.

After accepting his proposal, the air around us seemed charged with electricity, as if every single molecule was impregnated with our newly recognized love. The erotic tension between us was palpable, a wave of desire that grew with each heartbeat.

We looked at each other intensely, without words, but with a profound understanding that went beyond verbal expressions. It was as if we were reading each other, revealing our innermost desires without having to utter a single word.

Slowly, our mouths came closer, attracted by an irresistible magnetism that bound us to each other. The first contact was delicate, a light touch that sent shivers along my skin. Then, the kiss became deeper, more passionate, as if we were to merge our souls into a single entity.

My hands ran down his body with a firm determination, exploring every curve, every line, as if I wanted to memorize every single detail of him. I felt the heat of his skin under my fingers, and my body burned with desire as I abandoned myself completely to him.

His lips were soft and hungry, devouring mine with an uncontainable passion. Our breaths mixed in a frenetic rhythm, as if we had to share the same oxygen to survive. It was a kiss that exuded desire, union and promises of endless love.

Our tongues intertwined in a sensual dance, exploring every corner of each other's mouths with insatiable curiosity. Every moan, every sigh, was an expression of our unquenchable passion, a language that only the two of us could understand.

In that moment, in the heart of Tokyo, under the starry blanket of the night sky, we had united not only as lovers, but as soul mates destined to walk the path of love and passion together.

After that intense moment of passion, Harry took a deep inhale, his eyes still burning with desire as he looked at me with affection. “Y/n,” he whispered huskily, “I think it's time to go to the hotel.”

His voice was full of promise and anticipation, and my heart was still beating fast in my chest as I nodded slowly, unable to speak due to the intensity of the emotions we had just shared.

With a knowing smile, we walked hand in hand towards the hotel, our pace impatient and full of expectations. Although the city around us was still in turmoil, our world was reduced to that moment, that place, the promise of a night of passion and shared love.

Once we arrive at the hotel, Harry gently closes the door behind us and turns to me with a look full of desire.

“How about waiting for daddy like a good girl on the bed?” he tells you in his usual low tone of voice.

You nod without saying anything and head to the bedroom that was separate from the rest of the suite.

You undress to just your underwear, already knowing that Harry will appreciate what you've done.

You wait what seems like a lifetime when Harry finally makes his way into the room. He has two glasses of white wine in his hand and has unbuttoned the first 4 buttons of his shirt, revealing some of his tattoos on his chest.

“I see you've been a good girl, waiting for dad only in your lingerie that he bought you” she tells you, letting out her usual mischievous smile and handing you a glass of wine.

You both take a sip from your glasses, then Harry takes yours from your hand and places both little holes on the nightstand next to the bed.

“I think it's time to celebrate.”

He lays you flat on your back and starts running his hands all over your body leaving wet kisses here and there.

“You know,” he says, they detach their mouths from your body, “when I bought this I already imagined how it would feel on you, but seeing it in person is a completely different thing. You're a fucking goddess.”

You stand there in silence, letting out a moan every now and then, it feels like your brain has turned to mush, the only thing you can think about is Harry.

Meanwhile he got dangerously close to the area where you need him most, and slowly takes off your black lace panties.

He inhales deeply as he uses his hands to open your legs. “You always smell good to me don't you? And always so wet! Who made you so wet?”

“You… it was you”

But Harry doesn't seem happy with your answer, giving you a light slap on the inside of your thigh. “I didn't hear, who made you wet?”

“You daddy, it was you!”

“Good girl,” he tells you, leaving a wet kiss near your crotch. “Since you were a good girl I think you deserved a present.”

With the help of his thumbs he opens your pussy lips, and smiles when he sees your clit already erect and smooth with your excitement.

He doesn't wait a second longer and dives into your pussy, licking your clit first, making tight circles with his tongue, and then he draws licks that go from your hole to your clit.

Harry was so good at giving head, the best you've ever been with. The little grunts he let out when he tasted your nectar straight from the source turned you on even more.

With his hands you grab his hair and pull him closer to you as you ride his face.

In the room the only noises that can be heard are your moans and the wet sound of Harry's tongue meeting your pussy.

He moves his mouth away from your center and you moan at the loss of contact. “I think she's ready to take daddy's cock now, don't you?”

“Yes, yes daddy, I need you, I need your cock.”

Smiling at your words Harry quickly strips off his clothes and you can finally see his cock, standing with the red tip already dripping with precome.

“How do you want me, pretty girl?”

“I want to be on top.”

“Go pretty girl, ride me.”

Harry sits on the bed with his back against the headboard of the bed, spreading his legs slightly and stroking his cock.

You slowly sit on his cock, it was big and long and despite the several years you were together at the beginning you always had a little difficulty taking it.

“Such a tight pussy for daddy, isn't it? You always hold me so good.” Harry tells you, looking at the place where the two of you are connected.

When you sit on his hips, with his cock buried deep inside you, both of you moan enjoying this moment of intimacy.

After you adjust to the size of him you start to move on top of him, placing your hands on his pecs for leverage, but Harry takes your left hand and kisses your ring finger, where the ring is placed.

“You look so beautiful, riding me naked with just this sparkly ring. I still can't believe you said yes to me."

You smile at his words. “I will always say yes Harry, today, tomorrow and always”

He crosses your left hand with his, and with his other hand he takes you from behind the neck and dives on your lips, bringing you to a kiss full of love and passion.

He feels your hips start to slow down and he can tell you're getting tired, so he places your hips flat on the bed and meets your hips with upward thrusts.

You moan into his mouth in response, and he brings his hands to the cheeks of your ass, first leaving two smacks, and then taking a cheek in each hand and starts railing you harder.

“God, you feel so fucking good” he moans in your ear.

The sounds in the room were highly pornographic, the noise of your wet pussy being pummeled by Harry's cock was the only sound that could be heard, other than your moans and a few grunts from Harry.

“I feel your pussy squeezing me, are you ready to come for me love?” he tells you gently, a stark contrast to the thrusts inside you.

“Uh… yes, I need to come, make me come daddy please, I want to come with you” you whine.

“You know what the rule is, love, you come first. So come on, let me feel that pussy coming holding me so hard.

With three more thrusts from Harry you finally feel your orgasm hit you like a train. Your legs begin to tremble and you feel the muscles in your abdomen contract.

“Just such a beautiful girl, cumming so hard on daddy's cock. Do you want me to fill you with my cum? Is that what you want?"

You nod frantically as you catch your breath. “Yes daddy, I want you to fill me with your cum, I want to feel full.”

And so after a few more thrusts you feel Harry's hot sperm filling your insides, and you stop with your head on his chest listening to the pounding rhythm of his heart. Our breaths mix in a relaxed rhythm, as we enjoy the stillness after the passion.

“You are so special to me, Y/n,” Harry murmurs in a soft voice, his fingers gently stroking my hair.

I hold myself closer to him, his warmth wrapping around my body like a security blanket. “And you mean everything to me, Harry,” I reply with a tender smile. “I couldn't have imagined a better night.”

We get lost in our thoughts, relaxed and fulfilled by the deep connection we share. The air around us is filled with a sense of peace and serenity, as if the whole world had stopped to allow us to enjoy this moment of happiness.

With a delicate kiss on the forehead, Harry holds me even closer, and I close my eyes, completely immersing myself in the feeling of being loved and protected in his arms. In that moment, there is nothing but the two of us and our love, an island of calm and happiness amid the chaos of the outside world.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles blog #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #japanrry

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thestarsarebrightertonight · 17 hours

Text

the alchemy // mattheo riddle x fem gryffindor reader

playlist: the alchemy - taylor swift

"who are we to fight the alchemy?"

summary: mattheo riddle hasnt left you alone with his relentless flirting since third year , youre sick of it! or are you?...

gryffindor reader , y/n used , fluff, minor swearing, short

masterlist

"yknow youre the most beautiful girl in all of hogwarts." mattheo stated from besides you , staring at you with his head in his hand.

"as you tell me everyday mattheo , i appreciate it but i think our potions project would appreciate your attention and care much more than me." you stated with a sigh looking up at him and tapping on his empty parchment.

"isnt it just so lucky we got partnered together?" he said dreamily as you scoffed.

"yes, soo very lucky." you muttered with sarcasm.

"so what do we have left to do princess?" he asked.

"are you being serious? im not sure who we is but based on the fact youve done nothing this whole session- its me that has work left." you scoffed and ranted at him with annoyance , only to recieve a bright smile from him.

"i cant help but be distracted besides you." he shrugged and draped an arm across the back of your chair.

you sighed in pure frustration before angrily packing all of your things into a bag and standing up , ignoring the confused and saddened boy besides you.

"where are you going?" he asked with disappointment.

"carry on acting cute riddle , it wont work. unlike you, some of us need grades to get a job in the future, not all of us have devilishly good looks that get us everything."

"you think i have devishily good looks?" he asked both teasingly and happily.

"sadly , i do," he smirked at this before you leaned down to him , your faces practically touching making his smug attitude drop into shyness, "doesnt mean im going to date you , dont even bother asking."

he quickly regained his composure and moved his face slightly so he could whisper into your ear , lips hitting your skin with every word , "youll come around eventually and when you do..im right here baby."

you blushed brightly before pretending to be digusted by his words , pulling away and crossing your arms with a scowl, "maybe in your dreams riddle but dont let delusion alter your reality too much. and your reality is that we're doing a project together that needs to be in by friday , so get to work baby."

he shifted his gaze as his face turned bright red and he began to heat up at your words , or more specfically the nickname.

"k but seriously , get to work or ill be beyond pissed. goodbye riddle" you said seriously , walking away and leaving the flustered boy to drown in his thoughts at the library table.

----

"gorgeous!" mattheo riddle shouted down the corridore as you rolled your eyes , this was either directed at you or one of his hook ups. and upon feeling an arm wrap around your waist , you assumed it was you, "i finished our project just as you requested your majesty."

you didnt bother looking up at the boy and simply continued to walk down the hall , mattheo clinging onto you ,"well done riddle you actually worked for once. at dinner hand me the papers you wrote and ill review it and finish our conclusion. thanks for actually doing it i didnt think you would."

"anything for my girl" he brightly smiled , enjoying your subtle praise greatly.

"not your girl but sure." you rolled your eyes.

"maybe not now , but very soon" he stated confidentaly , giving your waist a quick squeeze before letting go , "as much as id love to walk you to class , i have to attend to skipping herbology! later beautiful."

"bye" you said quietly , giving him a small smile that brightened his whole afternoon.

-----

"here you go my love!" mattheo announced as he sat himself down on the bench besides you and placed some paper besides your empty plate.

you threw the papers a quick glance ,seeing they infact had writing and grabbed them , shoving them into your bag, "thank you riddle. ill help you finish later."

suprisingly the boy sat in silence , in confusion you turned to look at him, only to be given a teasing smirk and wiggling eyebrows.

"what?" you asked in confusion before releasing and smacking his arm lightly , biting back a laugh, "dont be so childish mattheo!"

his expression soon dropped completely , staring at you stunned.

"whats wrong?" you again asked in confusion and sudden anxiety.

"you.....you called me mattheo." he stuttered , face red.

"well yeah thats your name is it not? or is it mathew?-"

"no its just.....you never call me by my first name."

you soon realised , looking away to hide the pink tint that stained your cheeks.

"whatever it just slipped out!" you tried to hide your shyness.

"dont ever call me riddle again.. just mattheo , hell you can call me anything but riddle. id love it if you called me yours though." he flirted again, losing any hint of fluster.

"not happening!" you let out a genuine laugh because of the boy, for the first time in years.

mattheo couldnt help but watch in awe, admiring as you laughed with him.

"come to my quidditch match tomorrow , you can wear my jersey if you want," he winked.

"ill pass on the jersey but sure ill be there , supporting gryffindor." you teased as the boys pouted.

"cheer for me atleast?" he asked softly , staring into your eyes.

"until i lose my voice," you smiled back at him, a wide smile youd never given him before. it felt like a blessing to the boy.

he had no idea why youd become so open to him , you didnt either , but you did know that the boy had definetly flirted his way into your thoughts after years of determination.

-----

"welcome to the third match of the year, slytherin and gryffindor! buzzing to see the new cheats slytherin pull this time around!-" lees commentation was cut off by mcgonagall clearing her throat , "sorry professor."

"anyways back to the match! a pretty decent line up today , the usual team for gryffindor. slytherin having brought 3rd year joseph off the bench for the first time. hopefully we see some of his skills in this match! but i must say the most interesting player of slytherins team this match , has to be riddle. not only did he perform well last season but he seems to have his eyes on his own trophy , as per usual , y/n y/l/n! whats most interesting is the slytherin jersey shes wearing , i mean the girls in gryffindor , where is the house pride!!-" lees rant was cut off by mcgonagall throwing him a sharp glare. you cringed from the crowd as your house threw you dirty looks , the only look you focused on being the smirk and wink mattheo gave you from his broom.

"anyways , the captians are now deciding who starts the match. by the determenation on all of payers faces, this match will be anything but clean and fair , tough luck madame hooch!" lee laughed as the teams decided who started, all of the players taking their positions as the whistle blows, "and the match begins!".

----

all of your house members threw you distasteful looks as you sheepishly walked down the stands and towards the pitch , where the slytherin players had gathered.

you had hardly stepped onto the grass when an arm around you swept you off your feet and spun you around.

"did you see, love? we won!" mattheo who was currently holding you tightly , exclaimed in excitement.

"yes , yeah i saw!" you grinned at him , looking into his eyes as he finally rested you on the ground, his arms around you and yours resting around the back of his neck.

"you were my good luck charm," he said softly , his eyes tracing your body, "i see you decided to wear my jersey".

"like i had a choice! you bribed the twins to not let me out the common room until i wore it!" you both laughed.

"it suits you , no other number or name suits you better , " he smirked , pulling you in closer as you giggled.

"hm i dont know y/n potter sounds quite good." you teased as his eyes hardened.

"no." he stated darkly as you laughed at his seriousness,

" dont worry riddle , you could say im yours."

he grinned widely , "oh yeah, what changed?"

"i stopped trying to resist the mattheo charm." you teased with a bright smile.

he didnt waste a second in pulling you into a passionate kiss , one he had held back for years. after about a minute he chased your lips once you pulled away.

"i love you , since first year" he whispered.

"thats a lie, i thought it was third year!" you gasped in fake suprise.

he chuckled , looking at you in lovesickness ,"i loved you before i even met you."

"thats not possible matt," you laughed.

"it is when we're soulmates," he stated.

"soulmates? wow you really do love me huh, riddle?!" you teased.

"more than youll ever know."

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