#there has to be someone paying to keep them suffering
Text
𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤
summary: your parents set up an arranged marriage with regulus black and you make an attempt to keep it a secret for as long as possible. through it all, regulus is there for you in a way you wouldn’t ever had thought possible.
cw: fem!reader, arranged marriage, walburga black, angst, comfort,
<3
July 17th, 1977
Following your fifth year attending Hogwarts greater tensions arose between pure-blood families throughout the entirety of the wizarding world. Previously, tensions had already existed between those who supported the joining of the dark lord's forces and those who sought to protect their children from his reign. Your loyalties lie with the latter but your parent's do not, so you keep silent.
The day of your sixteenth birthday your father informed you of his plan to marry you off. The news came to you as a surprise, but not because you didn't believe your parents would do such a thing but rather because it was truly unexpected. Initially, you didn't know how to handle the news and it only became more difficult to understand when your father told you that you would be betrothed to the youngest Black brother, Regulus.
You're a Gryffindor from a line of Slytherin purebloods. You're not surprised by the fact that you're being engaged to a Slytherin but you never would have thought it would be to Sirius's brother. You suppose your parents want someone to keep you in line and according to them, Regulus is perfect for that.
You aren't aware of the complex history and values of the Black family but you aren't naive. You notice the way Sirius and Regulus carry themselves at Hogwarts. From an exterior perspective they are very different. Sirius flaunts his rebellion and appears arrogant while Regulus suffers quietly but much more noticeably. So, from an interior perspective the brothers are very much the same and it's most likely a result of their relationship with their family which is known for being supportive of the dark lord.
The last thing you want is to marry into the house of Black. But you also have no other choice and your father has made his decision on that very clear. He said it was the best decision for your future and the future of the family. (Probably more so the future of the family, he never usually had your best interests at heart). So as soon as your father came in contact with the Blacks they were more than happy to offer up Regulus.
And that is how you find yourself sitting in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place, silent and sat up straight, attempting to tune out the discussion the adults are having on behalf of you and Regulus. Soon to be husband and wife. You cant even imagine yourself as a wife, tending to the home and children. Merlin, you weren't ready for that and you can't even apparate yet let alone hold all the burdens of being a wife. Besides, you have always believed in the notion for marrying for love. Unfortunately, that dream is being cut short by your betrothal to Regulus.
12 Grimmauld Place is cold, all the furniture made of near-black wood and the textiles heavy. Ornate candelabras light the room, although it still has the distinct feeling of overall darkness. The fireplace isn't lit, though it would probably do a lot in the way of comfort. The old piano, shrouded in cobwebs, disguising its elegance, is playing itself, surely enchanted in order to keep your and Regulus's ears distracted from the conversation your parents are having. You and your father are seated on a black couch with an abstract gold print across from Orion and Walburga, seated on an identical couch. Regulus is on a bench in front of the piano eyes glued to the floor. He hasn't even looked at you.
Entirely reassuring.
You on the other hand can't stop sneaking glances at him. He's a good-looking boy, you'll give him that. And it's not as though you never saw him at Hogwarts but you never payed attention to him until now. His features differ from Sirius's but he still exudes that obvious, easy charm and a certain haughty look that they share.
Regulus was just a bit thinner, just a bit shorter. Still with the dark and curly locks, but not as long as Sirius's. His eyes are dark and situated under heavy brows. You get the impression he doesn't know how to do anything but brood, although perhaps that's because it's all you've seen him do. There's a beautiful angularity to his face, reminiscent of a statue. You don't like the idea of him looking at you with those eyes. You know there's no way he could find you nearly as attractive as you find him.
Regulus must've heard your thoughts because before you can tear your gaze away, he looks up, eyes meeting yours.
"(Y/N)?" Your head whips around at your father's voice. He and the Blacks are looking at you.
"Yes, father?"
"You and Regulus are excused while we continue our discussion." His eyebrows raise in a look that means: behave so I can marry you off.
Regulus stands and you follow him out of the room, unknowing of what to say once you've left. The silence feels so loud as neither of you speak and you hope this is not the rhythm you fall into once you've officially married.
The hallways are dusty and suffocating from the sheer amount of unkept vintage furniture lining the floor. Your gaze wanders aimlessly, a reckless move on your behalf, the eerie atmosphere leaving a lingering feeling of despair within your chest. You dread the day you have to move into this wretched house.
At the staircase, Regulus abruptly stops causing you to step on his heels. He turns around and you mumble out a quick apology. His face still betrays no emotion much to your unease.
"Would you like me to show you to my room?" He asks. His voice is different from what you expected. There's a hint of sadness, melancholy hidden beneath his pride. It doesn't take a genius to hear it but it makes you wonder if he's allowing you to.
"I suppose I don't have much of a choice?"
Regulus shakes his head and sends you an almost sympathetic look, as if saying: you have no idea what you're getting into. And truthfully, you don't.
His room is a whole four stories up. The climb is manageable but not entirely enjoyable. You try to keep your breathing level but your curiosity keeps you occupied. You scan the walls mostly made up of portraits, presumably members of their family line. Each exudes a contrasting level of emotion, some were troubling, nightmares of a certain kind, while others carry sorrow heavy on their faces. It was unnerving, this is the family you are to be married into. Soon you'll have your own portrait on the wall.
At the top of the flight are only two doors. Regulus walks in the direction of the one of the left. You pause.
"Is this other room Sirius's?" Regulus turns and for the first time, his expressionless eyes sadden, mirroring the sound of his voice.
"It was."
You close your curious mouth, not meaning to pry, but there's a version of the story that you don't yet know and you intend to find out eventually.
As you approach Regulus's door, you see he's hung a sign. It says: Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black. He enters, but you hang back in the doorway for a moment, lost in a thought.
Your mind reels at the thought of being one of the select few granted access to his room. But the reality of the situation renters your mind and you take a hesitant step forward, feeling the weight of the arrangement pressing down on your shoulders.
Regulus turns, sensing your hesitation and for the first time the ice of his face cracks, and he smiles faintly, "You can come in. Just close the door behind you."
He sits on the only chair in the room, leaving you to awkwardly seat yourself on the edge of his bed. As you pretend to examine his room you can feel the fullness of his gaze. He looks at you now that you're alone and you think he is seeing too much. He can see that you're not the girl he'd marry if he could choose. He sees why your parents think you need controlling, to be steered away from your friendship with his disowned brother and the rest of the Gryffindor house. He can see that you are afraid. His room is surprisingly small, and you can't imagine you are more than three feet from one another.
"So," you break the silence, "Do you think I'll have to live here?"
His eyebrows raise as if he already knows the answer to your question, but his face quickly returns to normalcy. His parents probably told him to be on his best behavior.
"My parents seem to expect you to. It's what a wife does, I suppose."
You nod, making an attempt to pick your brain for something else to say. You can't find anything and silence once again houses itself in the air between you.
"It's not a good idea." He's angry again. Or at least, he looks the way he did when you first stepped foot in this house. Maybe angry is the wrong word. He looks closed off, impenetrable. Maybe angry, too.
"What?"
"You coming to live here. Us getting married. It's not a good idea." Finally, he looks away from you, focusing instead on a nonexistent point to your right, "You don't deserve to be dragged into this."
You can't mask your shock. The sincerity in his voice is the most you've ever heard from him. You want to believe your father in assuring you this is the right thing, but Regulus's tone makes you wonder if he is telling you the truth. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.
"Dragged into what?" You pry, curiosity besting your manners.
"You do realize which side of the war you now stand with, right?"
You breathe in and hold it for as long as you can. The silence lingers like dust that's taking too long to settle. You're not surprised to feel a knot of terror lodged in your throat.
"Toujours Pur." Your gaze snaps to Regulus whose eyes are directed towards the family crest above his bed, "Always pure. That's what you're getting into. I hope you know what that entails."
Regulus watches closely as you open and close your mouth, unknowing of what the respond with. You've thought about the fact that you're now on the side of the dark lord but you find your mind circling with more worries when the truth is said aloud.
"And I don't know what your father said to convince my parents to allow you, a Gryffindor, to marry me but they won't let anyone know." Regulus sighs, he doesn't mean to come off as rude but you have every right to know everything about the situation, "You'll have to learn how to be one of us."
Your eyebrows furrow and you fight the urge to stand but the space is far too small for you to without being too close.
"I don't know who you think I am but I assure you, I know exactly how to be one of you." You point out, your voice sharp with defiance, yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "My parents are just like yours so don't assume that I don't know what it's like."
Your eyes are fixed firmly on Regulus as he remains silent. The tension in the room is palpable, the air crackling with unspoken words and unmet expectations.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Regulus shifts his weight, his gaze flickering momentarily away before returning to meet yours. Without a word, he moves closer, his steps deliberate yet hesitant, until he's seated on the edge of the bed beside you. The sudden proximity sends a shiver down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity toward his actions.
"I'm only trying to help." Regulus admits softly, his voice barely above a whisper, before retreating once more into his stoic demeanor, "But you shouldn't assume this will be any better for you."
Your shoulders sag with the weight of his words, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you struggle to find the right response. "It might," you murmur, your voice tinged with hope. "In a year, we can leave here."
Regulus's gaze softens slightly, a fleeting glimpse of understanding passing through his eyes before they harden once more. "You're missing a chance to be happy," he offers, the hint of regret hidden in his tone.
A bitter laugh escapes you as you shake your head, the weight of your circumstances pressing down on you like a leaden blanket, "I don't have any other choice."
Regulus's hand finds yours for a moment before his door flies open, clearly without regard for the sign, and your hands fly apart. And there stand your parents.
"Oh lovely," Walburga begins, "They're already getting on."
"(Y/n), you'll be moving in with the Black's, effective tomorrow." Your father explains and under the intense gaze of Walburga you flinch. It doesn't go unnoticed by her or Regulus, "You can pack your bags tonight. Understood?"
"Yes, father, I understand."
Your parents exit the room but Walburga lingers and her icy gaze turns to Regulus, "Our guest will be staying in here, with you," Walburga pauses, eyes narrowing in your direction, "She's your responsibility now."
<3
masterlist . regulus black masterlist . taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
#my works ──★ ˙🦋 ̟ !!#masterlist#regulus black x fem!reader#regulus black x y/n#regulus black x you#regulus black blurb#regulus black imagine#regulus black fic#regulus black fluff#regulus black x reader#regulus black angst#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#james x regulus#regulus black x female reader#regulus black drabble#regulus black scenario#marauders fluff#marauders era#marauders fandom#marauders fanfiction#regulus black fanfiction#regulus black fanfic
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everytime I see Lian Harper appear on a comic or a TV series I have a few thoughts
1) Please don't kill her
2) Please don't make this a Roy hallucination
3) Please be alive fr
4) Please don't take her away from Roy 😭
#I can't deal with this anymore#there has to be someone paying to keep them suffering#there's no other explanation#there isn't.#anyways#lian harper#roy harper
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
taking my heart out and stomping into the ground dont you dare get another friend crush. dont fucking do it.
#ITS SO FRUSTRATING !!!!!#i think someone is cool and then they pay an attention to me and i am lost#i am drawing them pics and making them little gifts and thinking about all the fun things we can do together#i spend my free time thinking of reasons to talk to them#u might be like hmm this sounds like a romantic crush#but i can assure it is not#it CAN turn into one over many years#i kno bc one did and i suffer even more for it#its Very Obvious bc when its a non-platonic crush i will get suuuuuper possesive and jealous#but UGH friend crushes suck especially bc i dont have the bandwidth to rly pursue them AND#i always feel like i come at it too intensely so in order to escape rejection i run#its fine i am fine i can be Normal about things#its okay i will hide from this one like ive done all the others#its this person named Toad and they are so cool they do like climate activisim and they support local punk bands#its also reminding me of Dev. i am so sorry dev.#he was this super cool ass dude that i worked with for 4 years and he was So Neat and interesting to talk to#he knew soooooo much about cooking and he was really well read#and his humor was great. super dry and sarcastic i was always laughing lol#i wanted to be friends with him SO BAADDD#and he has no social media or even like. texting#so before i left i demanded his email address#and I emailed him One time and he replied and i ghosted him#bc here is another issue: i cant fucking communicate#how keep friends if u dont talk to them????#anyways the brain worms are eating good tonight
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
❝ 𝐈, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐍 ❞
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. everyone says you’re the curse of your own legacy. dubbed “the worst ruler ever in history”, power is all you cared about. your selfishness leads to the downfall of your own kingdom, with you murdered at the hands of people you thought could be trusted. somehow the next day, you regress to the day you become the sole successor to the throne after the previous sovereign passed. can you prove your worth and show them you have what it takes to be the sovereign in this timeline?
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. argenti, bronya, dan heng, dr. ratio, gepard, jing yuan, ruan mei, sunday, trailblazer (caelus & stelle)
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. f!reader. royal au, time travel au. angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. 1.9k words. inspired by billion manhwas that have this trope lol. the royal family is absolutely horrible and reader hates them. reader experiences dissociative amnesia due to trauma from said family and the previous timeline. lots of self-doubt. death is everywhere in this fic. a dark joke about betrayal (bronya). reader has hair (gepard). murder of a loved one and revenge (sunday).
𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀. new year, new blog, and new fic but two months later! on spring break so i’m happy i got to write again, even if it’s just a little bit. watch me disappear for another six months or so because grad school’s a bitch.
𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈.
rumor has it among a group of chivalrous knights from a forgotten land that their deity, the god of beauty idrila, is in your kingdom. you happen to come across one of them when you snuck out of the castle. the knight introduces himself as argenti, a knight of beauty… a very strange one.
what person talks to objects as if they’re people and compliments them that they’re beautiful? as soon as he lays on you, he’s in front of you on one knee and kisses your hand, declaring that you’re beautiful, even as beautiful as idrila themself. surely you’re weirded out, but he seems sincere.
there’s a possibility that your advisor sent a search party after you. you generally hate being escorted on your outings due to your upbringing, but going back there isn’t where your mind wants to be, so you ask the knight if he could be your company. ah, how could he resist a beautiful lady like yourself?
will he still see you as such when you ascend the throne?
𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐍���𝐀.
house rand is known for their strong military leadership and is a unique case of nobility. majority of its lineage are commoners, going through a selection process as children to be adopted by the current leader and be trained as their successor. shortly before your ascension, former leader cocolia rand passed away. no one knows the cause of death, except her daughter.
marchioness bronya pays a visit to introduce herself as the new leader of the house. the two of you express condolences for your families, though you try not to flinch at how she praises the late sovereign like everyone else. she believes you can keep secrets well, which isn’t entirely wrong, so she asks to borrow you. you already know the topic of discussion: the actual cause of death of madam cocolia.
it’s me. her dialogue muffles into white noise. madam cocolia has made a deal with her daughter to kill her if anything happens. hm…? did you put trust in someone to stop you if you ever went insane? can you stab me in the back if that’s the case? your mouth runs on its own, and she’s in shock. you brush it off as a joke afterwards, saying she should ignore it. yet you can’t yourself as it’s been haunting you since.
do you trust her to end your suffering, for the good of the kingdom?
𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆.
the archivist strikes you as someone who dislikes bothersome people, so you try not to spend too much time researching your condition. though upon meeting dan heng at the library, he appears courteous and doesn’t mind your company. what leaves you puzzled is that he doesn’t question your sudden interest in time travel and regression. instead, he leads you upstairs.
on the way there you trip and he grabs onto you, triggering a flashback of the mob capturing you with tight holds during your escape. realizing the intensity of his grip on you because your body’s shaking, he lets go and adjusts his hand placement to your back so you can get up. then he makes sure you’re alright before reaching the data bank.
he assumes that you’re still traumatized from your family’s death based on your reaction to that memory. everyone believes the same thing, and it’s definitely wrong. but you can’t magically convince them that you’ve seen the future where they’ll die because of you. however, his intentions make you feel at ease. he says he’ll be nearby for help. is it really okay to rely on someone else for once?
will he stick to his word and catch you when you fall to your death?
𝐃𝐑. 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎.
the intelligentsia guild believes that knowledge is a valuable resource to obtain various mediums of information across the world. having one of their own at the castle not only as a professor at the royal academy, but as the advisor to the next sovereign is quite an honor. dr. ratio may be a brilliant scholar, but his interpersonal skills… not so much.
there isn’t a day where you’re spared from his lectures. to be fair, you’ve done questionable things after your family’s passing: sneaking out of the castle, researching time travel and regression, and raising raccoons that almost destroyed your garden and your servants’ sanities. nevertheless, you’re irritated by his emphasis on your reputation as a ruler. does it look like i want to be one? you storm out without a second thought.
after calming down, you search for him to apologize. you should’ve told him about how you felt instead of letting out an outburst. unfortunately he has gone home, but leaves a note that addresses your “odd hobbies” - ways to not alert the servants during your escapades, literature of topics of interest that aren’t in the library, and interventions of minimizing the chaos of your familiars. you take it as an apology; he’s more considerate than you think even if he doesn’t admit it.
can he stay by your side if you decide to abdicate the throne?
𝐆𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃.
house landau is the “shield” of the kingdom, serving the royal family for generations. their current leader count landau is a stern man from what you recall the several times you visited him as a child. now he’s forced to retire due to his illness, replaced by his eldest and only son gepard, your childhood friend.
the two of you haven’t interacted much as you reach the training period for succession, whereas his father drills him to be insubordinate to the royal family as they have been. with your parents gone and the count ill, you can see him whenever you wish. but how should you approach him? more importantly, does he still see you as a friend? you give up instantly, exhausted from your mental trip to the past.
amidst the flames, he yells at you to run as shadows consume him. you shoot up - bloodshot eyes, rapid heartbeat, and heavy breaths. a pair of arms engulfs you, one hand rubbing your back and the other buried in your hair. rest, i’m here, he whispers against your forehead. you start to lose it, sobbing uncontrollably on his chest.
is this what giving in to your selfish gains feels like?
𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍.
the sight of citizens flocking to the plaza can be seen from your balcony.
three people emerge from the crowd, who you recognize as residents of the civilization in the sky: the xianzhou alliance. they have no reason to be here unless it’s important business, and that happens to be you. how forgetful you are.
earlier you test a theory that hopefully changes your tragic fate. it takes courage to act like a jester in front of the council, sending diplomats to invite various factions to forge alliances. the entire court and yourself are amazed that one of the arbiter-generals jing yuan is here in the flesh. the xianzhou rely on themselves for help rather than outsiders, so there must be something that he wants from you.
little did you know while you’re interested in the xianzhou’s manpower, he’s interested in you. his two attendants have never seen their general smitten over someone before; it’s obnoxious. his visits become frequent; his purpose of seeking specific resources is really an excuse to shower you with gifts. he appreciates how headstrong you are throughout the tragedies you faced, wishing you give yourself more credit. he has faith in your capability as a sovereign, even if you don’t agree.
he’s not here to play with your feelings, is he?
𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐈.
house ruan is revered by academia as geniuses of the century, yet rarely shows up in public as they care less about being in the spotlight. rather, they dedicate their lives to science. their daughter carries the household name with grace and elegance, though it can’t be said the same with her experiments in which she entrusts you to be her assistant.
lady ruan mei is interested in the concept of life. cycles of birth, growth, and death. existence of the living. development of cognition, emotions, and behaviors. they’re fascinating to her. creating lifeforms makes you feel some sort of sorrow; your creation is modeled after yourself. then you wonder how your family reacted when you were born.
soon you’re asked by the scientist about your existence, and whether you believe the gods can answer that. now that you think about it, were they involved in your regression? the human race worships the power of the heavens: creation and destruction. death is inevitable, but can the gods also rewrite reality? if they choose to send you back in time, did they want you to redeem yourself?
why bother going so far if you’re going to screw up again?
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘.
no one hosts festivities as grand as house oak. under the impression that you’ve been secluded in your room grieving over the previous sovereign, they’ll throw a small party to cheer you up and celebrate your upcoming ascension. the thought of announcing you want to abdicate the throne is tempting, but their efforts will go to waste so you scrap it. might as well keep up a front and plan your next moves.
you’re welcomed into the venue by the high priest sunday, the organizer of this party. you’re feeling nervous, not because of the amount of guests but because of his overwhelming presence. he doesn’t seem familiar, or are you misremembering? do you still feel unwell, your majesty? behind the high priest is a young woman who bears some resemblance to him, and everything all at once falls into place.
his sister is the precious sun of his life, executed by the eclipse. the high priest follows the royal family without hesitation, only for his loyalty to be questioned at her expense. he isn’t the type to act so rash, but for her he’ll go to great lengths to exact his revenge. you lie to the siblings that you’re fine and tell the high priest to take care of her. there’s more than meets the eye regarding your behavior, but he just agrees to not arouse any suspicion.
what secrets have your people been hiding from you?
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐑.
there are twin raccoons that practically live in your garden and are your servants’ worst nightmares. somehow they’re kind of like you - living in luxury while rotten to the core. you remember ordering your servants to exterminate them last time, so you take them instead so you won’t freak them out, much to your advisor’s dismay.
later you discover that caelus and stelle are shapeshifters who lost their memories, with their only lead being a magenta-haired woman. to your surprise they love to gossip, which proves themselves useful to be your spies, gathering intel on the current news that could coincide with the ones in the previous timeline. they can also find information about that woman. killing two birds with one stone.
sometimes you worry about their work ethic, considering how chaotic they can be. for instance, their unhealthy obsession with trash cans. as much as you need them to get the job done, you realize you’re nothing better than your family. those two are extensions of yourself, learning about the world just as you are. so you step back and let them have fun with scraps. they’ll get to their missions eventually.
they appear to be loyal to a fault so there’s no way they’ll betray you, right?
#♪ .fics#honkai: star rail#honkai: star rail x reader#hsr x reader#argenti x reader#bronya x reader#dan heng x reader#dr ratio x reader#gepard x reader#jing yuan x reader#ruan mei x reader#sunday x reader#trailblazer x reader#caelus x reader#stelle x reader#honkai: star rail angst#honkai: star rail fluff#hsr angst#hsr fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Burn
My heart always hurts when I watch the cutscene where Astarion burns under the sun. Dammit Larian Studios
Summary: You chase after Astarion when he runs away from the rising sun and remind him that you chose him.
You watch as blue lines crawl across his skin, steam rising as the sun eats away at him once more, now that he is free of the parasite. You hear the panic and sadness in his voice as reality sets in — he is no longer immune to the sun, condemned forever to live in the shadows. His ruby red eyes lift to meet yours as his skin scorches, an apology falling from his lips and he rushes to find shelter before you can say anything.
“Astarion!” You shout, watching his fading figure. He doesn’t look back, of course he doesn’t, he doesn’t have the time to when all he can think about is how his skin is searing. Your other companions remain rooted but your legs find an extra burst of energy and soon you find yourself hot on your lover’s trail, desperate to find him.
“Astarion!” You call out, panting from the exertion. Running like that just after defeating a Netherbrain was not a good idea, and you can feel your head spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself and lean against the nearby wall, getting as much air into your lungs as possible.
“Astarion,” you gasp, forcing yourself to keep moving, telling yourself that the vampire was suffering more than you were. You stagger onwards, barely remembering where you last saw him and pray that he hasn’t gotten far.
You make your way to a stack of crates hidden behind a docked ship and find a figure huddled in the corner, shaking. You stumble towards the figure, fingers hastily fumbling for the clasp of your cloak which you throw around the figure’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Star,” you breathe, relieved. You feel his arms slide around your waist tentatively, cautiously hugging you back.
“Why are you here?” He whispers. The scent of your lifeblood fills his nose, causing fangs to peek out but he holds himself back, holds the hunger back.
“For you, of course.” You continue to hold onto him tightly. “I’m not leaving you alone, not ever.”
“Why?” He can feel you, feel your warmth, your touch, but a part of him still nags at him, trying to convince him that this is all just a dream, that you want nothing to do with him, not when he is confined to the darkness. He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in the fact that you’re here with him, that you came for him when you could be out in the new dawn with the others.
“Why? Because I love you, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t want a future without you.” Your fingers ghost over the burns, an ache in your heart when you see how badly the sun has burnt him. Even as the sun scorched him, he still took the time to apologise, to look you in the eye, to tell you of how much he enjoyed the journey.
“Even if it means being unable to live in the day? Being unable to feel the sun on your skin?” The words cause a lump to form in his throat. He wants to push you away, tell you to find someone else, someone better. You deserve so much better than whatever he can give you, you deserve to be able to live with the sun warming your skin, you deserve —
“Yes. I know what it means to be in a relationship with you, I know it means never seeing the sun again, never feeling its warmth, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” The fierce fire he fell in love with back then burns in your eyes, daring him to deny you your choice and he feels himself falling for you all over again.
Your devotion to the people you care about, the lengths you would go for each of them, the love you had for those around you. He had once found all these traits foolish, but now they were his saving line, the reason you were currently kneeling by his side, tenderly caressing the rough burnt skin of his cheek as you firmly declared your intent to remain by his side for the rest of your life.
You pull the cloak over his head and shoulders, ensuring they cover as much of his skin as possible.
“I look terrible, don’t I?” He gives a hollow laugh.
“And yet still so beautiful. It’s not fair how you can pull that off.” You chuckle, tilting your head to offer your neck to him.
“Drink up,” you say with a smile so bright it blinds him. “Then we’ll head back to Elfsong Tavern and discuss what to do next.”
He tugs at the cloak around him. It smells of you, the scent deep and warm. He buries himself in it, grateful for the protection it provides and gently rests his lips against your bare neck. His fangs prick your skin, and then dig deeper as blood begins to flow into his mouth. The cracking blue lines on his skin start to fade, his usual pale likeness coming back as he drinks your precious lifeblood, savouring every drop freely given.
“Thank you,” he whispers against your neck.
“Anytime,” you murmur back, holding him close. It always brings a sense of comfort, feeling him in your embrace, breathing in his scent. You hold him for a while longer, basking in the feeling of his cold undead skin against your warm living skin until the others find the both of you.
Your group makes its way back to Elfsong Tavern while shielding Astarion from the sun’s rays. The walk is filled with a quiet yet comfortable silence, exhaustion from the day’s fight and thoughts of the future that lay ahead setting in.
Everyone files into their own rooms, leaving you and Astarion standing in the corridor, facing one another.
“You really mean it?” He asks. He has to confirm, he has to make sure that he is making the right decision to entrust a part of his future to you.
“Mean what?” You tilt your head quizzically.
“That you don’t mind staying with me.” He shifts his weight from one leg to another, playing the corners of the cloak over his head.
“I mean it. We’ll find a way to get you walking in the sun again, and if we cannot, then I don’t mind spending the rest of my life in the shadows.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “You’re all I need, you’re all I want in this future of my choosing. I hope I’m in the future you choose as well.”
In the future he chooses? He…oh right. Cazador is dead, there is no master to tell him what to do, to control his every move. He can decide what he wants to do next, where he wants to go, who he chooses to spend his time with.
And he wants to spend it all with you.
“Of course you are, my love. There’s no one else I’d rather have.” He flashes his usual smile, eyes softening at the way you light up upon hearing his words.
“Then…let’s start planning it, together.”
“Together.” He agrees, liking the way his new future sounds. Even if he had to skulk in the shadows for eternity, maybe such a life wasn’t so bad with you around. He would have you to wake up to, be able to hold you, be loved by you, even if he had to burn under the sun.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#astarion bg3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion romance#astarion x durge#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion ancunin#tavstarion#durgestarion
756 notes
·
View notes
Text
sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.
cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI
he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.
the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.
for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.
if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.
the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.
maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–
your dog's cute. what's his name?
it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.
you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.
unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.
he's tired of holding back.
#tldr: what if big man falls for girl who wants nothing to do with him#revolutionary i know#simon riley#ghost#simon 'ghost' riley#x reader#tw stalking#tw noncon#ddne#simon 'ghost' riley x reader
789 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I wasn't sure if you were accepting requests at the moment
but can I get (romantic) Alastor x Lucifer's ex Seraphim Angel wife who he left plz?
S/o eventually left Heaven and still got to keep their wings and powers before it got taken. They meet him around the time he got to Hell and they hit it off
Anything else is up to you if you'd like
Oh, interesting idea!! I'll try my best, love youuu!! (≧▽≦)
The Drug In Me Is You
Alastor x Fem!reader x ex!Lucifer
Letter count:
Tags: slightly angst, sfw, slightly possesive behaviour, depression.
Notes: I hope i understood you right!!! Enjoy!!
Lucifer was a wonderful husband.. Constantly enveloped you in love. It seemed to you that you could not dream of anything more. Romantic dates, beautiful clothes, oh, you thought that you would drown in his care.... Which is what happened. Lucifer was undoubtedly magnificent a man...But not a great husband...When you got married, your joy knew no bounds...but...
A year later, you began to notice that he began to pay less attention to you. In the evening, he no longer went to you to cuddle in bed, but just turned his back to you and fell asleep.When you wanted to hug him, threw your hand away and answered annoyed, “Leave me alone.”
One day you were walking through a magnificent garden in paradise. The beauty of nature has always delighted you. Oh, these magnificent scarlet roses.. They look so fragile that it seems that if you touch them, they will fall into small pieces... Birds sang and flew in the sky .Everything was so wonderful, you even forgot about your husband for a while...But suddenly you heard someone’s voice. Your wings trembled slightly, not expecting that someone would be there. You came closer to the source of the sound and, hiding behind a tree, looked whose it was a voice...
Your heart skipped a beat and you felt tears running down your cheeks, like blades piercing your skin.Lucifer stood with another woman. His smile....he had not smiled as much as he smiled at this woman for a long time.You were hurt, terribly. He betrayed you. You were on the verge of hysterics. Turning around, you ran away, sobbing and wiping your tears with your hands.
Everything around you seemed so fake. These light clouds. Birds, flowers, plants. You flapped your three wings and quickly flew. Where? You didn’t know, but it certainly wasn’t where you were flying from.
..............................................................................................................
The next few days were a blur. You felt terrible, you suffered. Lucifer, betrayed you? You couldn’t accept it. When Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven because he got involved with a demon, you didn’t care anymore. You used to be a very joyful archangel. Everyone called you a ray of sunshine. But now... There were black bags under your eyes because of lack of sleep. Your eyes are red, tear-stained. Your condition was immediately noticed by other angels.
“Y/n, honey, are you okay....?” One day an archangel turned to you, concerned about your condition. But she was only met with a few rude words. This alerted her. Soon the angels began to avoid you. The archangels thought about making a decision about your expulsion. But before they could do anything, you expelled yourself. Having opened the portal, you descended into hell. “If I suffer here... It won’t be worse there..” You thought.
Unfortunately, you were wrong. A few days later, you sat curled up in a ball in some alley of hell. Your clothes were torn in some places, your wings were tattered, you felt emptier than an empty glass.Your tired eyes were closed. Your face was buried in your knees. You were so tired that you didn’t even have the strength to cry. Suddenly, you heard someone’s voice. It felt like someone was talking on the radio.
"What are you doing here, dear.With those...wings.Aren't you supposed to be in heaven?" His static voice sounded confident.
You raised your head slightly and opened your eyes. You saw a strange sinner in front of you... He was different from many of those you saw here. He was dressed in a beautiful fitted red suit, his black bow tie was beautifully attached to his shirt. He had a big smile on his face, showing his yellow, sharp teeth. His eyes were calm, but you could see a slight mockery in them.He had black gloves on his hands, and in one of his hands he held a red microphone on a stick.
"W...what do you want...?" You asked in a quiet, pitiful voice. You heard him laugh slightly.
"Ah, nothing important, dear, just curious what such.... creature..like you doing here?" He tilted his head to the side with slight -crack-.
"Who are you...?" You said weakly
"Ah, name's Alastor.Pleasure to meeting you! Quite a pleasure!" He bowed while saying this. You didn't say anything, only looked down at the ground. He continued watching you for few seconds then walked closer to you, standing in front of you.
Alastor couldn't help, but when he saw you, something woke up in him.He was in hell only few month, but still made reputation of dangerous cruel demon.But when he saw your poor, beautiful body, his heart skipped a beat. He felt a strange pull to protect you.
"Such an innocent soul..." he thought
............................................................................................................
You didn't know how it happened, but you find yourself in....his apartment...? With Alastor in front of you.There was a cup of tea in front of you. You looked at your reflection in the tea. You looked terrible. Shabby dirty hair, tired face...The demon continued to look at you, drinking his coffee. His smile never fell, you didn’t even care.
Your weak hand reached for the cup of tea. Fragile fingers clasped the handle of the tea, but your hands were too weak to lift the cup. Alastor noticed this and his eyes narrowed slightly. He put his cup on the saucer. Crossing his legs, he leaned back, watching you.
No matter how he tried to find pleasure in your suffering and raise the cup, he did not feel good. He felt sympathy for you, and a desire to protect. He slowly stood up and approached you.His beautiful long fingers took a cup of tea from your hand and brought the cup to your lips. Slightly surprised by such actions, you looked at the demon.
Opening your lips slightly, you started drinking tea with small sips.
After tea and some food (Alastor feed you too) Alastor showed you way to the bathroom, you needed it.You looked like complete mess.Alastor provided you with a towel, after which you went into the bathroom.When you came out of the bath, prepared clothes were waiting for you... Or rather, a shirt and pants...
When you were changing clothes, Alastor came into the room. He was amazed by your beauty. Your hair.. your smooth skin... Ah, those beautiful wings... He felt his pulse increase.His smile and eyes began to give off shades of warmth.
..............................................................................................................
You lived with Alastor for a long time.You became very close, you started to feel better. Every evening, over a cup of tea, he listened to your worries and sufferings... Usually he would have enjoyed this, but with you, he only felt the desire to calm you down. Every day spent with Alastor gave you more strength, and made you forget Lucifer.
In a hell full of lustful sinners and murderers, you have found comfort in a dangerous demon.No, he wasn't just a demon for you, Alastor, this soul..When he woke up in the evening because of your sobs in the next room, he would sigh and get up heading towards you. When he approaches you, he will lie down next to you and hug you. He hates touching.... But for you he will do anything.He would kill for a feeling of your wings wrap around him when you relax after telling him what bothering you.
When the angels officially kicked you out of heaven, you didn't care so much anymore.You cared only about one thing...only about one person...only about Alastor.
........................................................................................................
"Alastor, where are we?" You asked as you looked around.You were in some kind of garden. Although the flowers were not as luxurious as in heaven, life was visible in them... They looked so bewitching.Alastor coughed and turned away from you. You looked at him in surprise, not understanding his behavior.
"Alastor...?" You almost reached with your hand to his shoulder, but he quickly turned to you.
"Y/n.." Alastor began. His smile was on his face as usual, but you saw the uncertainty in his eyes when he turned to you with one black rose in his hand.You lowered your hand. Oh, how beautiful this rose was... Like an angel of death...
"yes..?"
"i....love you." He extended his hand with the rose towards you. His other hand was tightly gripping his microphone. Your cheeks turned slightly red due to the blush. You felt your heart beating faster and as if butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.He turned his head away, looking away.Without wasting a second, you grabbed his wrist with one hand and turned his face in your direction with the other. Alastor tensed at the contact, but when he felt your soft, plump lips on his, he almost melted.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to penetrate. You let out a slight moan as your tongues intertwined.
After a few seconds, you pulled away each other. from each other and looked into each other's eyes. You smiled. Your cheeks were flushed with blush, but you were happy to think about it.
"I love you too."
Notes: I hope you liked it!!! Sorry that i didn't lost for a while (￣ヘ￣;)
#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel x you#alastor the radio demon#alastor#hazbin hotel x y/n#alastor x you#alastor x y/n#hazbin hotel fanfiction
729 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'll always stand up for you - Theodore Nott X Reader
A/N: Fixed up the spacing to make it easier to read this time.
Summary: Theo gets himself into a fight, Y/n has to patch him up.
*Fluff
The slytherin common room was very quiet, and empty. Y/n for once was the only student in the room. It was late at night, so it would’ve made perfect sense that many people were up in their rooms sleeping. Although it was odd y/n hadn’t seen anyone come or go yet, although that would certainly change.
“Theodore?”
Y/n asked quietly, they were sat in the slytherin common room with a book, reading intently until Theo’s suspicious behavior became alarming.
Theo was holding something over his mouth. his left eye was puffy and red. It would without a doubt leave a nasty bruise. They were very close, sharing secrets and walking to class together. Theo especially knew how to make y/n smile after a hard day. He was sweet and kind when he wanted to be, especially towards y/n. It wasn’t until incredibly recently that they had, in fact, developed feelings for Theodore.
“Theo,”
Y/n offered again, setting the book aside. Theo had walked in, hoping to sneak away to his dorm unnoticed by anyone, but y/n had been up late reading on that particular evening. The common room was cozy, and quiet at that hour.
“Yes?” Theodore asked, trying to keep his face away from the light of the fireplace, but ultimately it was no use. Y/n could see he was holding the handkerchief he had kept in his satchel full of class supplies. It looked bloodied. Which made Y/n’s heart race, they immediately stood and walked promptly over to the boy.
“What happened.”
Y/n’s voice was full of concern, but Theo pulled away slightly. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he says downplaying what had really happened. His eyes looked tired, with the way he had entered the common room, y/n knew he was sore, and had likely been in a fight from the early stages of a black eye.
“Let me see, please.” Y/n’s voice was soft, but sweet. Theo could feel his heart flutter. He removed his hand from his lip, revealing a split across his bottom lip smeared with blood. He was likely punched in the jaw, no doubt. It made y/n angry to think that someone would do that. “May I?” Y/n offered, taking the handkerchief from the boy and gesturing for him to sit on the leather furniture facing the fireplace. Yn tilted Theo's chin up to get a better look at his face, examining his features. Yn delicately thumbed away a streak of blood from Theo's mouth, saying nothing and instead frowning. His features were then illuminated by the fire light, a scratch on his cheek, what would become a black eye in the morning, and the split on his lip. It was disheartening to see him in that state, as he had flinched when he sat down and looked like he was suffering.
“Who did this to you?”
“Some lowlife gryffindor, and his friends.” Theo said with a gentle sigh. Y/n grabbed the handkerchief and gently dabbed the blood off his cheek and lip, paying special attention to try and not hurt him even more. “You have to be more careful.” Y/n said, slightly disappointed.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Theo admitted, “They were saying things about you.”
Y/n felt flushed at the thought of Theo defending them, especially in a fight. It was a romantic gesture, but they were also frustrated he didn’t just walk away. It wasn’t incredibly common that Theodore came home with bruises from fights, but it did happen. Especially when someone would speak Ill of his friends and family.
“They said you weren’t worth the trouble, that you’re a nasty person.” Y/n let out a sigh, grabbing their school bag and digging out a small container with a green balm in it. Some kind of healing concoction from herbology class. Y/n was listening to Theo, but was intent on healing him. Taking a small amount on their thumb, they gently brushed it over his cheek, and slowly and delicately over his lip.
“It’s not true, you know.”
“What?”
“That you’re a nasty person.”
“It doesn’t matter Theo-“
“No. It does matter. To me. I think you are absolutely lovely. I won’t ever let them-or anyone speak badly of someone that I love.”
Y/n paused, if it weren’t for the low lighting and the warm glow from the fireplace Theo would’ve certainly seen them blushing.
“. . .you, love me?”
Y/n asked, quite elated at the thought of Theo saying those three words.
“Well I better because I took quite a few hits to avoid another detention.” Theo smiled softly. It was likely on a field trip outside of school, someplace where he couldn’t use magic. He was quick witted and skilled at dueling, but when it came to physical fights it seemed like whoever it was certainly had a stronger build. Y/n chuckled softly, but before they could speak Theo began again, “Of course I love you, y/n.”
“Teddy,”
“No I do. I can’t deny those feelings.”
“Please don’t go picking fights for me anymore, I absolutely hate that you were hurt,” y/n shook their head slightly. unsure of how to express the feelings of butterflies in their chest. The feeling of young love.
“I love you too much to ever see you hurt at all.”
“Listen, the next time I see those bastards they’ll be the ones hurt and in the hospital wing I can guarantee that.”
“Please be careful.”
“I won’t be sorry for defending your name.”
Y/n brushed the rest of the blood off their chin, gently grazing his soft skin.
Theo locked eyes, it was a tender moment. It was sentimental, and kind. For a second he wondered what it would be like to kiss them.
“You don’t have to defend me.”
“I know.”, “. . . I know,”
With their eyes locked, and y/n’s hand near Theo’s wounded face, their heart was racing fast from being so nervous. Theo felt a rush, and then decided to cross the line between friends and lovers. He gently grabbed the side of y/n’s cheek cradled in his hand and pressed their lips together softly. It was a brief kiss but it was meaningful. When they pulled back, y/n remained close looking into his blue eyes. They reminded y/n of the sea. Almost forehead to forehead, in this intimate moment y/n broke the silence finally with a bare whisper, getting a smile out of Theo and a slight laugh.
“I love you, I have for a while, … but don’t you dare get yourself beat up over me again.”
#my writing#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x reader#hp x reader#harry potter#slytherin x reader#slytherin boys#matteo riddle#draco malfoy#theo x reader#theo nott x reader#theo nott imagine#theo nott x y/n#theo nott x you#theo nott fic#x reader#reader insert#gender nuetral reader insert#gn?!reader#theodore nott fluff#hp
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello, pretty! First of all your writing is so good, I'm hooked! And if u don't mind can I request a fluff (maybe smut?) of Neteyam being so clingy in public, that man can't keep his hands to himself fr and I know for a fact that he would always rub it in people faces (especially the one's who failed to court you) like he would throw a glare when he notices someone staring at you for a second too long before kissing you on the spot while looking straight into their eyes.
Mine
Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader
Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, mild angst, fluff, lil hint of smut
Yours (part two)
Neteyam still can’t believe you chose him.
Despite being the future Olo’eyktan and a skilled warrior, he has a tendency to view himself as less than. But you…you are easily the most beautiful and sought after woman in the clan. So, despite the fact that you’re already mated, that you’ve chosen him for life, he constantly feels the need to assert his claim in the presence of other men.
Like in the morning, when you’re helping with meal preparation. You’re always in the same spot, washing the newest collection of fruit, so he’ll easily settle against your back without so much as a hello.
“Morning, yawntutsyip (darling).” A soft smile pulls at your lips, cheeks warming under the public display of affection.
Neteyam nuzzles against your shoulder, humming lowly as his lips caress the skin of your neck. His hands completely dwarf your hips, long fingers curling around them before gently guiding you closer to him. You instantly relax against the warmth of his chest, a contented sigh adding to the quiet morning bustle.
What you don't notice is the way his eyes scan the area, pointedly glaring at every man who dares glance in your direction. It's mostly accidental, really, few would openly challenge the future Olo'eyktan for his mate, but Neteyam doesn't see it that way. Every single look, touch, conversation is something he needs to monitor closely, ensuring it doesn't go too far.
When you sit with his family for meals, he crowds in close, until his arm presses against yours and his tail firmly wraps around your waist. If you'll be with any of his siblings for the day, he practically threatens them into watching you closely too.
On the rare occasion that he can't be physically near you, he does his best to remain within eyesight. His attention locks on you, on anyone who approaches you, mentally daring them to even try acting out of line. He isn't a violent person, but Eywa, he wouldn't hesitate to protect what's his.
He's always finding ways to touch you, and you love it. You aren't fully aware of his true motives, simply appreciating how smitten he seems to be. No matter how busy he is, he makes his adoration known with a simple brush of his hand along your back in passing, or a quick peck of his lips on yours before his father inevitably rips him away.
It's mostly innocent, his little routine, until someone who once courted you pushes him too far. There are only a few who dared vie for your affections at the same time as Neteyam.
Truthfully, you didn't pay any of them much attention, only accepting their courting gifts politely as you're expected to do. From the beginning, he had your heart, your decision was made early on and there wasn’t any real competition.
But still, to this day, if one of them gets too close, lingers for too long, Neteyam is instantly on high alert. Like right now.
He's absolutely seething, jaw clenched so firmly he fears he might crack a tooth. His short nails dig into his palms, fists tightened at the ready.
“Mawey (calm), Neteyam.” His grandmother demands roughly, forcing his fingers apart as she works on his battered chest. “You are too tense for wrapping.”
He lets his hands fall onto his thighs instead, fingers splayed and pressing harshly into his skin. His head sways side to side, peering over her as she kneels before him, tending to the injuries he suffered on the latest supply run.
He doesn't pay her poking and prodding any mind, full attention locked on you across the clearing. You're helping, as you always do, dutifully patching up the wounded. He had every intention of being the one beneath your gentle hands, but his grandmother got to him first. He tried, he really did, but there's no arguing with Mo'at.
His jaw grinds as he watches you rub yalnabark into a warriors shoulder. But not just any warrior, of course, it's one of the men who once tried to court you. His heart thrums harshly between his ribs when your head tilts back ever so slightly, a beautiful laugh twinkling from your lips.
Your lips that should only ever part that way for him. Your hands that should only ever touch him. A dangerous possessiveness brews deep wtihin his belly, whispering that everything about you is his. His to claim, to touch, to protect. Just simply his.
In an instant, he's on his feet. Completely ignoring his grandmother's protests—which he knows will get him into trouble later—but he can't find it within himself to care. There's no way he can endure this for even a moment longer.
He approaches swiftly, fists clenched all over again as he stalks toward you from behind. His face is marred with a dark glare, chin dipped, gaze molten beneath his thick brow.
“That's enough.” He barks roughly, large hand covering yours to peel it from the man's skin.
A tiny gasp lodges in your throat at his sudden presence, shoulders stiffening at the firm grasp. Your muscles relax a fraction when wide eyes find your mate, but the relief only lasts for a few seconds as you take in his furious state.
“Neteyam?” Your voice is gentle, questioning, as you place a comforting hand on his bicep.
He doesn't even glance your way, the full force of his wrath locked onto the other warrior.
“Find someone else to finish.” He orders, tone dripping with finality.
The man looks up at him with a blank expression, undeterred. “She's just patching me up, man.”
Neteyam's vision blurs, red dotting his periphery as his chest tightens with rage. Where you see a man simply defending the fact that what you were doing was completely innocent, Neteyam catches the way his lips twitch into a defiant smirk. Sees the challenge swelling just below the surface.
“Like I said, find someone else to do it.” Neteyam steps forward, spine straightening as he towers over the man, ready to pounce at any moment.
“‘Teyam...” His name is a warning under your breath as you move closer, urging him to calm down.
“What? You don't trust your girl or something?” Now, it's clear that was a direct challenge, and it makes you gasp in shock.
Neteyam doesn't hesitate, jerking forward until his fingers wrap firmly around the man's throat. You can't help but cry out, hands moving to cover your mouth as the situation quickly escalates. The man’s good arm instantly claws at the tight hold restricting his airflow, eyes widening in horror.
“Neteyam, please!” You hiss, pulling at his shoulder, panic gripping you as a few curious eyes drift your way.
Finally, he relents, releasing the man and letting you jerk him away. He’s trembling with pent up emotion, muscles coiled tight, but he doesn’t want to cause a scene. Not now, while the clan is regrouping after such a stressful mission.
“Disrespect my mate again, and I’ll show you what a real warrior is capable of.” He doesn’t even sound like himself, voice deep, the warning accented with a ferocious growl.
The man simply watches you drag Neteyam away, stunned that the always docile future Olo’eytkan actually fought back.
You don’t stop until you’ve reached your shared tent, practically shoving him through the entrance. It flaps shut harshly behind you as you stomp in after him, hands resting on your hips when he turns to face you. His ears flatten at your agitation, head dipping in shame.
“What the hell was that?” You snap, fiery gaze boring into his pointedly.
“I didn’t like the way you were touching him.” He knows he took it too far, knows you did nothing wrong, but there’s no escaping the anger that still courses through him. He fights to keep his tone even when he speaks to you, desperate not to make the situation worse.
“You mean when I was tending to his wounds?” Your hands wave animatedly in exasperation, scoffing at the absurdity of it all. “I’m the future Tsahik. What do you want me to do?”
He growls low in his chest, stalking forward until you’re face to face, a mere few inches between you. “You are mine. You agreed to that when we mated. I have every right—”
“You have no right!” You can’t help but shout as frustration curls in your stomach. Your fingers shove against his chest lightly, careful to avoid his freshly wrapped injuries. “You don’t see me threatening other women for simply existing in your presence, do you?”
He forces a tense breath through pursed lips, trying to calm down. This is quickly turning into a fight between the two of you, which is the last thing he wants. He reaches out, fingers gently curling around your arms to stop you from pacing before him.
“I’m sorry, yawne (beloved). I just…I can’t stand the thought of anyone…taking you from me.” His voice is soft, quiet, face tightening as the words leave him. It’s difficult to admit this, to bring attention to his deepest insecurity.
He is the son of Toruk Makto, a mighty warrior, and the future leader of the clan. He isn’t supposed to feel such things, to worry about losing you to another. He’s supposed to exude hard edges and confidence at all times. Not weakness, like he shows now as he stands before you, bearing it all.
“Oh, Nete.” You coo, eyes rounding as you cup his cheek softly. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed with a heavy sigh.
You had no idea he held this turmoil inside, was fighting to remain stoic while watching your every interaction with another. It all makes sense now, his constant desire to keep you close. It wasn’t coming from a place of love, but rather uncertainty.
“I am yours, okay? Come here.” Your gentle touch guides him those last few inches closer, until his lips brush yours in a light caress.
He responds eagerly, relief flooding his system at the fact that you aren’t upset with him, that you understand. His palms skim down your arms before releasing you so he can engulf your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
His tongue parts your lips, laying claim to your mouth as he groans slowly, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The kiss quickly becomes feverish, passionate as the desire to assert his ownership of you becomes overwhelming.
You pull away suddenly, fingers tangling in his braids to tug his lips from yours. He growls in protest, chasing your touch as you lean back a few inches. Your heavy-lidded gaze meets his, chest heaving as your heart thrums wildly.
“How do you want me?” You purr, sultry eyes blinking up at him through thick lashes.
“What?” He pants, breathless from the insinuation beneath your words alone. His tail twitches to attention at his back, swaying with excitement.
“I will prove that no other man could even come close to taking me away. Now, how do you want me?” Your fingertips trail down the column of his throat, causing a shiver to roll down his spine.
“On your knees.” The command is gritted through clenched teeth, cock already straining behind his loincloth.
You instantly obey, slowly kneeling before him, hands smoothing down his broad chest and tight stomach on the way down. Your fingers make quick work of releasing his pulsing length, gaze flicking over the huge appendage eagerly as it springs free. Sharp teeth catch your lower lip, tongue wetting your lips in anticipation.
Your eyes catch his just as your mouth closes around his swollen tip, watching in satisfaction as a long moan rumbles his chest, head tilting back at the feeling.
You settle into the floor, finding a comfortable position, ready to show him just how much you belong to him, and only him.
let me know if you guys want a smutty part two 👀
#netayam#neteyam fic#neteyam headcanons#neteyam sully#neteyam imagine#neteyam fluff#neteyam smut#neteyam sully fluff#neteyam sully smut#neteyam x you#neteyam x reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam sully hc#neteyam sully imagine#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam sully x you#neteyam sully fic#neteyam sully x y/n
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
lean on me
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
series masterlist
summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.
pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.
September, 2020
Joel had known things would get bad.
But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.
He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”
Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table.
She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”
“Tess—”
“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”
Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state.
You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately.
You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel.
“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”
“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”
“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”
He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”
“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”
“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.
“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”
“Tess, I’ve tried—”
“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”
She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”
He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.
After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.
“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”
Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”
Joel’s expression immediately softened.
Fuck.
He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.
“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”
You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.
Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless.
He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”
“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”
“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”
You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”
“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone.
“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”
For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless.
He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.
Because you were absolutely fucking right.
None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed.
And what could he do about it?
Not a goddamn fucking thing.
Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that.
He could have done more.
He should have done more.
Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time.
Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”
He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”
Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again.
And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.
“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”
You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”
“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.”
Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.
“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat.
You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”
Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”
“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”
“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.
He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it.
A single white pearl hung from the chain.
“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”
You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”
He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”
Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”
You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”
“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.
Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”
“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.
It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you.
Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you.
“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.
Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.
He wanted to see the baby.
“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”
Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#joel miller hbo#joel miller pedro pascal#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x wife!reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller drabble#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#fic: tdtrt
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
okay but all i can think of is grid kids: where y/n and sebastians’ daughter gets her period while being with the guys and they freak out while she is completely calm😭😭😭
Grid Kids: It’s Just a Little Blood
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: the grid kids have always been their little sister’s role models and teachers but it turns out that they have some things left to learn themselves
Series Masterlist
“She’s bleeding out!”
Lando’s panicked face fills your screen as the FaceTime call connects.
You immediately sit upright, heart racing. “What? Where? What happened?”
“We found her in the bathroom,” Charles adds, holding up a suspicious-looking red spot on the bathroom rug.
George, on the brink of hyperventilation, rushes in, “We need to call an ambulance! It’s a lot of blood. So much blood.”
Max is basically begging, “Just tell us what to do.”
From the background, you hear your daughter’s exasperated voice, “Guys! It’s just my period! Calm down!”
There’s a collective pause. Mick, with wide eyes, slowly asks, “Period? As in ... the monthly thing?”
Your daughter rolls her eyes but is clearly amused, “Yes. Welcome to female biology.”
You laugh, trying to calm the situation. “Okay, first of all, she’s not bleeding out. It’s totally natural. Didn’t any of you take a basic health class?”
Lance raises an awkward hand, “I might’ve skipped that day ... or week.”
Sebastian is trying not to laugh next to you, “Did any of you ever have a girlfriend? Or a sister?”
Lando sheepishly responds, “It just ... never came up in conversation, I guess?”
Your daughter holds a pad up like it’s a game show prize, “Alright, class is in session. First lesson: how to attach this to underwear.“
The line goes silent for a second before George finally speaks up, “You know, I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.”
You giggle, “As you should. Time for lesson one of many. Pay attention, boys.”
***
The phone buzzes with an incoming call, Lando picking it up instantly. “Hey, kiddo! What’s up?”
“Can you come pick me up?” Her voice, cracking with frustration as she tries to keep her tears at bay, comes through the phone. “I’m in a lot of pain but the physical education teacher won’t let me sit out despite my cramps being really bad.”
George, overhearing the conversation, frowns. “Seriously? She can’t be that heartless.”
Max grabs the phone, his protective instincts kicking in. “We’re on our way. Just hang tight.”
Within minutes, the grid kids arrive at the school, walking determinedly towards the gym. As they enter, they spot the physical education teacher, a stern woman with a whistle around her neck.
“Can we help you?” She asks, eyeing them suspiciously.
“We’re here to pick up our sister,” Charles says, stepping forward. “We heard she’s not feeling well.”
The teacher scoffs. “She’s been trying to get out of class because of some little cramps. It’s just an excuse for her to be lazy.”
Mick tries to keep his cool, “Cramps can be debilitating. It’s not just an excuse like you claim. It’s a real physical pain.”
Lance jumps in, “You wouldn’t make someone with a sprained ankle run, would you? It’s the same thing. Why make her suffer?”
The teacher is about to argue but Lando interjects before she has a chance, “Look, we get that you have a job to do but she’s genuinely in pain. All we ask is for a little compassion and understanding.”
“And maybe,” George adds, “in the future, a crash course on menstrual health and how not everyone has the same experience might be beneficial.”
The teacher nods, sufficiently cowed. “I’ll take it into consideration.”
“Thank you,” Max says and the group makes their way to where their sister is curled up in a corner. As she stands up, looking a little pale but relieved to see them, they envelop her in a group hug.
“Feeling okay, kiddo?” George asks with concern, carefully brushing a stray hair from her face.
She offers a weak smile, “Better now that you guys are here.”
Lance winks, “How about we go get some milkshakes? Ice cream cures everything.”
She chuckles, “I could go for that.”
***
The media room is buzzing, cameras being set up and reporters getting ready to fire questions. The grid kids are seated next to each other, patiently listening to their weekly dose of Maxplaining while waiting for the interview to start.
A reporter from a tabloid magazine, aiming for a provocative soundbite, smirks and directs a question at Charles, “Rough race today? Are you on your time of the month or something?”
The room goes silent for a moment, a few gasps and whispers are heard. Charles looks taken aback, his cheeks reddening slightly, but before he can answer, Max steps in, voice firm.
“That’s really inappropriate. Jokes like that are not only disrespectful to the drivers sitting up here but also to female racers and women in general.”
Lando nods, “Our little sister wants to be in Formula 1 one day and she should never have to face comments from people who think that they can demean her because of her gender.”
George throws his hands up, “Come on, it’s 2034 for crying out loud! You should know better than this. We should all do better than this. ”
The reporter attempts to defend his statement, “It was just a joke. No need to get so sensitive.”
Lance counters, “We’re not being sensitive. We just want you to show some basic respect. A natural process shouldn’t be turned into a sexist joke because you have nothing of substance to ask. Women deserve to be treated with dignity.”
The reporter mumbles an apology, clearly caught off guard by the unified response.
Charles finds his voice and glares at the reporter, “Let’s keep the questions related to racing.”
“And,” Mick looks towards a group of FIA officials sitting off to the side, “Someone better make sure to take away his media pass.”
***
After the press conference, back in the drivers’ lounge, your daughter squeezes between the grid kids on the oversized couch and looks up at them with earnest eyes. “Thank you for standing up for girls like me today.”
Max ruffles her hair gently, “We’ve always got your back, kiddo.”
George nods, “We haven’t always been perfect but we’re trying to learn and grow.”
Lando adds, “And we hope, by the time you get here, motorsport will be a much better place for you and all other women aspiring to be drivers.”
Charles bends down to her level, “We want you to race in an environment where you’re only judged by your talent and not anything else.”
“You’ve got the same passion and determination any of us ever had,” Mick chimes in. “Don’t let anyone ever dim that light.”
“We’ll be cheering the loudest when you make it to F1. No one should underestimate you,” Lance adds with a wink.
She beams, wrapping her arms around them in a tight group hug. “Thanks, brothers.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#sebastian vettel x reader#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#lance stroll x reader#george russell x reader#lando norris x reader#mick schumacher x reader#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#sebastian vettel imagine#max verstappen imagine#charles leclerc imagine#lance stroll imagine#george russell imagine#lando norris imagine#mick schumacher imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Idk personally I think if your profits are so high in every category that the only way to make them higher is start subtracting from how much you pay workers and ending things like shared accounts accounts just to falsely Create new users then it's time to admit you did it.
That there's nothing left. Everything has been capitalized as much as it can be. You won capitalism.
Was it not enough?
Having more money than most of us can even imagine, more security and food, more access to healthcare and much higher quality healthcare at that? Being able to spit on the people beneath you or have the cops show up on demand when you call. All the power. Knowing you can buy politicians and set up your own fucked up chess game.
Having all that and asking for more. Trying to bleed what's already run dry.
How is it possible that these people are trying to find MORE to take?
How is it that everything is not enough?
What is their long game you know? Like there are people making those decisions at Amazon and Unilever and Nestle. To just die rich? Is that it? Have capitalists considered what happens when they reach the end of capitalist potential?
All this suffering just so they can die with some extra zeros in their account? A man made currency put in a digital space? Like let's be real her for a second: it's fucking fake. Money isn't anymore real than the tooth fairy.
And this is the best way for society to function? The earth?
Leeching off one another like parasites for made up currency until we kill each other over it?
None of us are even happy. People who like capitalism will never even be happy with it. Nothing will ever be enough.
How is this worth it? Why aren't we punching every rich asshole in the face?
Why do oil execs still feel comfortable leaving their houses? Jeff Bezos should be afraid of the public. The Waltons should exist strictly as recluses who then die in a fire. I want to see rich people desperately trying to give away their money because someone keeps spray painting "Rich Cunts Are Still Hollow" across their houses. I want the Kardashians and Carters to need a bodyguard detail taking the kids to school.
You know?
#like the orcas#i would like to terrorize the capitalist class#capitalism#communism#anarchism#anarchy#politics#usa#biden#2024#rants
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
borrowing.
Steve wasn't a pervert.
Sure, he's done some unsavory things in his younger years that he's not proud of. But he's never been the type to take advantage of a woman. He's not like some of his guy friends who look down women's shirts or touched someone without their permission.
Call him a pussy or a feminist, but that shit makes him sick to his stomach.
And yet...
"Fuck your pussy tastes so good."
Steve pants against the crotch of your panties. The fabric hugs his face tight as he breathes in your scent, his nose tenting the cotton fabric. His lips hold the crotch between them as he sucks and licks the damp material until your juices coat his tongue and then some.
His eyes open for a moment, looking out the leg hole to check his surroundings for bystanders. His beemer sits in the far corner of the YMCA facing the back of a gas station. It's not where he had originally parked when he arrived for his work out today. A work out he didn't even get to, all because he bumped into you.
He's noticed you ever since he got the membership with Robin. Their goal was to attend 3 days a week together per Robin's request. Something about wanting not wanting to gain the freshman fifteen when she started her semester.
But school quickly became overwhelming for her and Steve found himself going to the gym by himself.Without Robin to distract him, Steve started paying attention to some of the people at the gym.
It was just a couple passing glances at first, not wanting to be one of those guys who stares at girls while they work out. He couldn't deny you were beautiful though. And when you approached him one day after it was just you and him in the gym, he felt that there was chemistry between the two of you. You laughed at his dumb jokes, engaged him with personal questions...hell you even touched his arm with your hand.
Your friendliness expanded beyond that day, too. If he didn't say hi to you first, you were approaching him to wish him a good workout. You'd even brought him "counter productive" donuts one day because he said he loved the local shop.
It was safe to say Steve had become completely head over heels for you over the last few months. And he totally has plans to ask you out. He really does. But, after all the failed dates he had been on since high school...he was almost afraid to jinx what the two of you had going on.
Today was going to be the day though. Or...it was supposed to be.
He was running late getting to the gym this morning, bad traffic on the commute to drop Robin off to her classes put him an hour behind schedule. So as he pushed through the YMCA doors with haste, silently praying to himself that you'd not left yet, he accidentally ran full speed into a body as they were leaving.
"Woah!"
Steve recognized your voice. It pulls him out of his head, focusing on your frame before him. He's bummed to see you in your work uniform, obviously done with your work out for the day.
"Sorry I didn't mean to almost knock you down," he apologizes, looking you over to make sure you're okay.
"It's okay," you reassure him, your bright smile making his heart ache. "I thought I wasn't going to see you today, so running into me is better than nothing!"
"Ugh, yeah, I really was trying to get here earlier but traffic and--and, life! Ya know?"
You nod sweetly. "Totally!"
"Yeah..." Steve's heart thumped in his chest. He didn't need to suffer through a whole work out routine before asking you out. He could ask you out right now. And if you rejected him, he'd be able to walk away and inevitably cancel his gym membership since he'd never be able to show his face again in this establishment.
Or, you would say yes, and he could walk you to your car so you could give him your number on a napkin you keep in your glove box in case of emergencies.
"Well, I guess I'll see you on Friday," you say after a beat of silence. Steve felt the words on the tip of his tongue. But, when your hand landed on his arm with a squeeze, he froze in place. All he could muster was a weak goodbye before you were pushing out the second set of double doors and walking to your car.
He waited to make sure you got in okay before letting out the breath he had been holding. His head slumped in defeat. What happened to the crown that sat on his head when he was in high school? Was it because he wanted something real with you?
There wasn't much dwelling on the subject as a bundle of pink just a few inches away from his feet caught his eye. Steve's eyebrow quirked, and he crouched down to grab...whatever it was.
The material felt soft but wet in his hands. He cringed a bit until the material unfurled in his hands, revealing to be a pair of pink, skimpy panties. The initial shock had him almost dropping the panties, but a split second closer look had him twitching slightly in his pants.
The underwear was yours. They must have fallen out of your gym bag when he bumped into you.
He knew they were yours because he'd see them peaking out of your work out shorts when you were bending down to tie your shoe. He didn't look on purpose, you'd just happened to have stopped in front of him and he saw them. He told himself it was on purpose when he touched himself that night, but deep down he knew it wasn't.
The door almost came off its hinges with how hard he pulled it open, making a bee line to his car. He slammed the car door shut and locked it, giving a quick look around before he was ducking down just out of view.
He breathed in deeply as he inhaled the scent of your panties, exhaling with a groan as your smell infiltrated his nostrils. It felt like he took a hit from a drug. He could practically taste you on his tongue when he went in for another sniff.
Flipping the underwear so that the crotch was resting between his hands, Steve's mouth watered at the sight of the creamy white that painted the pink fabric. His tongue darted out slightly, eyes darting around again as the nerves set in. This wasn't like Steve, but he blamed the way you drive him crazy on the dirty thoughts that were running through his head.
Just as he was about to act on them, the sight of a person walking out of the building had him hesitating. He placed your panties in his passenger seat and started his car, moving to the back of the building in a far off spot that was less traveled and slamming it into park.
Once the coast was clear, Steve wasted no time bringing his tongue to your underwear and lapping at it messily. He whined as your taste hit his tongue, and suddenly his pants were way too tight on his crotch.
This wasn't like him he thought to himself. Not that he hadn't had a hook up or two out by Lover's Lake. But to do what he was considering in such a public place went against his morals...
Your panties sit between Steve's teeth as he undoes his belt. He has to scoot his seat back or else his hard cock will just bump against the steering wheel. He pumps himself a few times in his hand, squeezing some of his precum out of his tip and using is to lube himself.
Steve sucks in a breath as he starts to fist himself. He holds the panties against his face as he begins to imagine your pussy on his face. His imagination runs wild as he thinks about all the ways he would eat you out, your pussy right in his face waiting for him to run his tongue through.
"Such a pretty pussy," he says to himself.
Without much thinking, he pauses his jerking to take the panties and stretch them out, hooking under his chin and pulling them until they're taught over his face.
With his free hand, he's able to cup his sensitive balls as he jerks himself with more vigor. He doesn't know how long he's at it, too engulfed in his pleasure to care about the passing time. All he can think about is making you cum all over his face and thanking you after.
Steve's hips buck into his hands. He can feel his climax approaching, his hand focusing on his tip as he brings himself to the edge.
Just as he's about to come, Steve pulls your panties off of his face and wraps them about his cock. He does the best he can to aim for the crotch where he has completely saturated it with it with his own saliva, cumming hard into the bunched up fabric.
After a moment of coming down, Steve slumps back into his seat. Guilt begins to wash over him as he looks at the sticky mess he's turned your sweet pink panties into. How could he even face you, let alone ask you out after what he's done?
Steve shoved your underwear into his gym bag. He didn't think he could give them back, even if the thought of you wearing them after he's cum in them made him almost half hard again. He would just throw them away in a dumpster somewhere...or he could wash them and--
thanks for reading.
#steve harrington#perv!steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington smut#steve harrington blurb
510 notes
·
View notes
Text
Venus in the houses: 7-12
Venus in the 7th house:
Venus in the 7th care a lot about the other person, other people are a source of emotional wealth for them. They love to take care of their loved ones, always remembering everything the other person likes. They are people who need to be in a romantic relationship of some sort to feel fulfilled and happy, which is why when a relationship breaks over they can start another one soon after, which is easy for them as they have a bunch of admirers, as they are beautiful, pleasant people.
Many people like them, whether romantically or not.
They have trouble, however, sharing the "bad" emotions and thoughts they feel about the relanshionship they are in. They don't want fights, they don't want to discuss unpleasant things; that's why they need to develop this skill: to vocalize what's making them uncomfortable, as it can harm their relationship if they keep this desire to always try to keep things harmonious, even when things are obviously not working.
This is the type of people who loves to be well-groomed, to smell good, to be fashion and beautiful. They are sociable, they are always receiving friends at home, giving dinners, going out, having a pleasant time.
It's hard not to like them, they usually win you over in such a subtle and gentle way that you will generally only have good opinions about them.
It's important that they stop worrying so much about what others will think of them, try to stop living in search of people's approval. If they manage to balance this approval need they will be able to shine even brighter.
Venus in the 8th house:
This Venus is addicted to love, passion. They are intense, their love goes deep, when they give themselves to love, they give their soul, everything. Their love is wonderful, you will feel exclusive, this Venus's attention will be completely focused on you, which is why they are very loyal, they rarely cheat. They are possessive, when they take possession of something they will hardly let it go, but when they are finally forced to let go, they go through a complete process of catharsis, going to the bottoms of their soul, suffering pain intensely, just to emerge from the ashes after, stronger than ever, beautiful and magnetic like a phoenix.
This is a Venus who receives money very easily from others, people trust them with their money. It also attracts a lot of financial investment from others, since the 8th house talks about the support that others give us, and it's very easy for them to get loans, in general.
However, don't mess with this Venus, she will take revenge and come out on top. Their love is like a hidden treasure, it's precious and rare, to access it you need to surrender completely. Extremely magnetic, they know how to attract what they want. They also need constant intimate physical contact, as that's where they find their greatest source of emotional satisfaction.
Venus in the 9th house:
This Venus needs freedom, for them it's very important to feel that they can act or do what pleases them without having to explain themselves or give in to the other person expectations. If they feel suffocated or trapped they'll start to distance themselves, until they are completely "free" of the other person.
They love studying. They love improving their knowledge: their mind, their soul. They love getting to know other cultures, studying about them, their customs and cuisine. They have a strong desire to travel and generally their preferred destination is abroad, somewhere outside their country.
This Venus points their arrow very far away, perhaps they want to date someone from outside their country, someone different, who offers challenge and mental stimulation. It's a Venus who also has many admirers, mainly for their beauty and intelligence, but they generally don't pay much attention to it, despite the fact that, if someone is intelligent enough, if someone can match their intellectual level, they will probably fall intensely in love.
They have a certain tendency to idealize relationships because the ninth house talks about the field of ideas, the mental, which is why they spend more time imagining the relationship than actually experiencing it in the reality.
They are usually always taking some course to complement their career or they are always traveling.
Venus in the 10th house:
Here Venus shines like no other, as it has reached the highest house of the zodiac. They have a love for the beautiful, the aesthetics, they love to beautify things, whether it's a job they do, or treating others in a harmonious way. They will always deliver the best of they can, as they are very demanding of themselves. Their beauty is cold, calculated, they know exactly where they want to go and radiating their natural charm they slowly conquer everything their heart desires.
They are very friendly, they really care about others, like a Venus in the 7th house.
They shine in their work, winning the favor of their colleagues and the attention of their superiors; but this is also where they attract the envy of others, as they definitely do more than most of the people around them.
This Venus needs to know that the path to the top is narrow and alone, so they should not let be affected when people threaten to leave them. They may find love at work, or they may love what they do very much.
They know what they are doing, especially when it comes to their career and life, they don't really need advice.
When they decide to love someone, that person will usually stay in their life and heart for a very, very long time, even if they eventually break up.
Venus in the 11th house:
This Venus loves society and society also loves them. They are loved by a very large number of people. They are that type of person who will donate their money to charities, who will help those most in need, who will take care of street animals. They really care about the collective, about people, they will stop what they are doing just to listen when someone needs it. They care about other people's lives, what their problems are.
They're very stylish, they usually have their own style and they really don't care whether it's aesthetically beautiful or not, whether it pleases others or not.
They are certainly intelligent, they easily understand how society works, being able to see invisible structures and offer help in some way, always trying to improve the lives of people in their community.
The only problem that can occur with this Venus is paying more attention to social issues than to the private life of their relationships, which can and will undermine the relationship itself, so it's necessary to seek balance.
They love to go out, they are always on the street, almost never stopping at home. They love being in touch with art, culture, politics. It's a Venus who will love going to cafes, discussing books and talking about the community/society in general.
When in love they are not so attached, they prefer to date friends, people who share some type of fraternity and camaraderie. Their loved ones cannot hold them back or try to label them in fixed, closed terms. They may not be so interested in romantic love itself, but rather the feeling of connection and understanding between two individuals.
Venus in the 12th house:
This is the most introverted of the Venuses. Living in their own world, they flow through various settings and people, they do not have a fixed type. They are emotionally sensitive, with a very rich and intense personal universe. They can fall in love very easily, but generally the person they love is not available, is usually committed or cannot get involved, for whatever reasons, with the Venus in the 12th house.
They usually keep their emotions to themselves. When they finally express what they feel, their emotions flow like a river, flowing with full force. Venus in this house also suffers from the danger of falling in love with people who harm them, who are toxic and abusive. They must become very aware of the type of people they surround themselves with, they need to stop idealizing such people and see them for who they truly are.
Their enemies can sometimes be those they love, people can sometimes be with them just to take advantage of their kindness and love. They need to be careful with that.
They give so much of themselves, their love flows like deep waters, and sometimes they don't realize they have given too much of themselves until they are already exhausted and sad.
As they are very rich internally, they can and should express their inner universe, as they are very creative.
Interacting with the arts, dance, photography, cinema and writing are activities that will certainly enhance and elevate this Venus to its maximum potential.
#astrology#astrology observations#astrology notes#astroblr#astro observations#astro community#astro notes#ascendant#sun in the 4th house#sun in the 2nd house#sun in the 3rd house#moon#sun#lunar eclipse#full moon#eclipse#venus in synastry#venus in the 8th house#venus#neptune#zodiac#horoscope#star signs#taurus#zodiac signs#aries#gemini horoscope: star sign dates#cancer#leo#virgo
942 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm gonna say it
as someone who has had suicidal thoughts as recently as yesterday, the primary factors keeping me personally from killing myself are:
It would make other people sad
I can accomplish more by living
From my conversations with other depressed people, these seem to be similar threads. It's well-known that the majority of tumblr users suffer from one mental illness or another, with depression being arguably the most common among them. Whether this airman was mentally ill or not, and whether that mental illness played a factor in his suicide or not, the example being set by tumblr users is incredibly dangerous. The reactions I've seen to his death have made two things very clear:
People are proud of him for his actions
People think his suicide has helped in an important way
If you're paying attention, you will have noticed that those two reactions exactly contradict the reasons why many depressed people abstain from suicide. This is going to put people's lives at risk. People with depression do not need another reason to think they should kill themselves. Gazans have already spoken out about their disapproval with these methods. This needs to stop before more people die
If you or a loved one are considering suicide, call 988 to be connected to the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline
665 notes
·
View notes
Text
No masters or kings (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)
Summary: Aemond has issues around sex. The thought of being married to you, an angel, it's not helping.
Warnings: Angst (w/happy ending) Religious guilt, repression around sex. Kissing. Thoughts of sex, but no actual smut. Just angst and fluff.
Requested: Yup! Modern reader falls into Sept x Aemond
For as long as he could remember, Aemond had been alone. He had been an outsider to his siblings and nephews, all with a dragon. He had been an outsider to other noble children, marked apart by his distinctive features. He had been an outsider to his father's family, Rhaenyra and her children.
The loss of his eye had only exacerbated that. The girls at court were frightened by the sight of him, and he often worried about how he could secure a match. No longer activities he had found solace in, like studying and swordplay, came easily. Everything, from reading to being able to walk down the stairs without tripping, had to be relearned.
His faith in the Seven had permeated all of his childhood. His mother was the only person to pay attention to him, even if it was sometimes in a way Aemond could not appreciate. When he thought of her, his mind's eye always conjured her with a seven pointed star hanging from her neck.
Aemond had tried his best to keep her happy. She was all he had. So instead of running from his lessons and incurring on indecent behavior, Aemond had closely listened to the Septons that educated them. He had prayed daily. He had read the Seven Pointed Star and annotated its passages, committing them to memory.
Paradoxically, the time when he felt closer to the Gods was after the loss of his eye. It had been then he had truly understood what it felt like to be favored by the Seven. His faith demanded sacrifices, but always rewarded them. An eye for a dragon. The biggest dragon in Westeros.
Sacrifice will bring good things. It was a very simple lesson, but one he committed to memory regardless.
As a child, Aemond had not prayed for a dragon. Nor had he prayed to the Warrior to make him strong and able to defeat his enemies. When Aemond was a child, he had often prayed for a friend. Asking for the Maiden to send him someone kind. An angel. He had never spoken it out loud, afraid of appearing weak. Children were such cruel creatures, after all. But Aemond never forgot to ask the Maiden for it.
Aemond prayed. And suffered. And prayed, and suffered, and thought that at least this life he was leading, of loneliness and desperation and so much fear, would finally account for something. For the Gods favored those who suffered and sacrificed, and if his reward didn't come in this life, it would come in the next one.
His prayers were always the same. Each morning, before anyone else could rise except for the lowliest of servants, Aemond went to the Sept. He spent equal time in front of each of the Seven's effigy and lit a candle for them. He prayed in silence, asking of them simple things. Aemond knew he already led a privileged life, so he did not dare ask for more.
His prayers were so ingrained, he recited them with little thought. Yet, when he came to the Maiden, Aemond always fumbled. With the other Gods, he knew exactly what to ask for. But with Her, he only felt unease. So he rapidly mumbled his childhood prayer, and moved on. It had become a tradition, even if he was no longer the appropriate age to pray for friends.
Aemond knew it was the wrong thing to do. When you were praying, you were supposed to be present. To think of all the aspects of the Seven with the devotion they deserved. But when you are taught as a child to pray, it turns into instinct.
Just as someone who has trained enough with the sword barely thinks about his next move, someone who prays enough doesn't need to think about what they will ask next. It's too ingrained.
At this hour, the Sept is quiet. Aemond enjoys praying here instead of in the one inside the Red Keep. There are no court ladies around to bother him, nor an Aegon making mocking noises while he tries to pray. Despite wanting to join his mother in prayer sometimes, he just couldn't take the royal sept. It lacked the peace septs were supposed to make you feel.
He leaned down, lighting a candle before each effigy, and muttering his usual prayer.
“Warrior, give me strength.” Aemond whispered. He lit the candle and moved on. “Mother, protect my sister and my mother. Father, bring your justice upon my enemies. Maiden, bring me someone kind. An angel.” And as he kneeled to light her candle, something hit him from above.
The weight of the thing was too great for him to remain upright. Aemond was sent sprawling to the floor. His head slammed on the stone floor of the Sept, making him grunt. A woman screamed. Probably, one of the commoners visiting the Sept. They were few at this hour, most having already begun their labors. Her scream was echoed by one of another woman, and soon, hurried footsteps were nearing him.
Aemond tried to sit up, reaching a hand out to move the weight aside. What he gripped, made him fall back down.
Cloth. Cloth covering something soft, something that yielded under his hands. An arm. You. The Gods had answered his call. There was a woman right on top of him, eyes closed and expression smooth, as if in peaceful sleep. The Maiden had sent him an angel, after years of solitude and sacrifice. You were his reward.
Aemond lifted you and set you aside, on one of the benches of the Sept. A couple of the commoners hurried forward, to gape at you, but Ser Criston stopped them.
“A miracle! A miracle!” Someone was screaming, and you twitched. More and more commoners started to pour through the entrance of the Sept, all gawking and murmuring about the woman who had appeared out of thin air.
The people were bright-eyed, frenzied by the demonstration of the Seven's power. They started pushing at Ser Criston, and trying to touch Aemond and you.
Cole and Aemond exchanged looks. If no one controlled the crowd, they might very well end up being torn to shreds by them, in their frantic attempts of touching the holy being they were guarding.
Aemond unsheathed his dagger.
“I think… We need a Septon.”
You were being carried somewhere. You could tell because your head swayed with the movement, unsupported. It was giving you terrible neck pain.
“If she has fallen out of the sky, and there is no hole….”
“A miracle! A miracle! The Seven have…” Fuck, your head hurt, and the woman screaming was not helping things. You flinched, trying to curl into yourself. This felt like the worst hangover ever, and you had no leverage to avoid the noises, since you were hanging in midair.
“The Prince must be held in high regard, for clearly the Gods favor him. Thousands of people pray here daily, yet the Maiden herself answered his plea.” The man from before continued speaking.
Someone else scoffed.
“Surely, this is a bit much. The Prince is hardly…”
“Shut up, Cole.” The person who was carrying you barked. The movement his chest made when he was talking made you fearful of falling down. Despite the strength in his grip, you weighted more than a few sacks of flour or a gallon of milk. People were not supposed to carry other people for long, unless they were frat boys attempting to impress girls or some sort of soldier.
You tried to sit up, the movement making all your body ache. Where were you? Why were you being carried? The last thing you remembered was going into an occult museum with a friend.
Everyone has that one friend. The slightly witchy one who believes in ghosts and crystals and whose favorite month of the year is October. The one who likes terror movies, and scary podcasts and dragging you to haunted houses and escape rooms.
It will be fun, they said. It's an occult museum, what could possibly go wrong?
Where the fuck were they? You were so going to strangle them for getting you… Wherever you were.
“My Lady.” The man holding you said. You looked up and met a pale blue eye and an eye patch. You startled. He looked straight out of a low-budget pirate movie, all in leather. “Are you alright?”
“What happened?” You lifted your head, noticing everyone was cosplaying as medieval priests and knights. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. The man holding you looked an awful lot like Aemond Targaryen. You would recognize that ensemble anywhere. You had read enough fanfics for it. “Is this a renaissance fair? A comic con?”
It was worth the shot. Perhaps something happened to you and you had stumbled into a comic con? But was it so easy to stumble into one? You thought the tickets for those were expensive, they surely wouldn't just let you in.
Something had happened to you and these kind cosplayers who were… Doing something decided to help you? That seemed more likely.
“No, my lady. This is Westeros. The earthly one.” The man dressed in the more expensive costume of a priest was speaking. He had an elaborate head accessory, billowing robes and some strange pentagram with way more points than usual. His voice was the one which had been muttering about a Prince, and being favored.
“What is a renaissance fair?” The man had the oddest combination of a white cloak and armor. You looked at the man and froze. He was… Oh, what was his name again? Oranges guy!
“Something they must have in the Seven Heavens.” The expensive priest answered, in a matter of fact tone. “Clearly. The Prince asked for an angel. Angels reside there.”
Your mouth was hanging open. They thought you were an angel. Holy shit. You looked down, at your scuffed sneakers and clothes. You didn't feel very angelic, but like hell if you were going to miss the opportunity of receiving royal treatment in Westeros. If you truly were here, you would rather not learn how the lower class lived.
Another priest turned to you. He was dressed as expensively as the first one, but he lacked the head accessory.
“Tell us, young lady. Were you an attendant for the Maiden? What are the Seven Heavens like?”
You panicked. Perhaps pretending to be an angel from a religion you had no clue about was not a good idea. These questions would continue, you knew it.
“Don't be ridiculous, Eustace. Everyone knows that angels can't divulge that sort of thing. It's basic theology. They come to fulfill their purpose, not to entertain fools.” The man with the head accessory spoke, as if talking to a child.
You did your best to sit up. Aemond held you more firmly, and raised his arm on your back, encouraging your head to loll towards his shoulder. You were moving inside a prehistoric looking building, corridors made from stone and decorated with tapestries. The Red Keep, perhaps.
“And what do you believe the being’s purpose to be?” Eustace asked. You did not like being referred to in such a manner, and you fought Aemond's grip a bit harsher. He merely settled you against him and kept walking, this time going up a stairwell. You squirmed.
“The Prince's wife. He prayed for a companion. That must be it.” The expensive priest, Septons they were called, now that you remembered, seemed to have become an expert on all things you. Wisely, you kept your mouth shut.
“Is that why her attire is so immodest?” The oranges guy spoke, reaching for you. He clearly noticed his Prince was struggling and hoped to relieve him of the burden. You clung to Aemond more tightly. You were honest enough with yourself to know you had many impure thoughts about him, and were not going to lose your chance.
Aemond grunted. Encouraging him to keep carrying you beyond his capabilities might not have been your best move.
“You can put me down. I can walk.” You spoke softly, trying to sound your most angelic.
“We are nearly there.” His voice sounded agitated from the physical exertion, but his tone screamed danger. It would wound his pride putting you down now, you realized. He wanted to look strong. “There is no need.”
“The Gods see all, and angels are pure beings. They do not know of such earthly concerns, for they have not been exposed to the sins of the flesh.”
“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, sure that you were dreaming. This was turning crazier by the second.
“That is a crass word here, my lady.” Aemond whispered to you. “You shall not repeat it.”
Safe to say, you were learning your lesson. When an occult museum artifact has a sign that says, “Do not touch” you DO NOT TOUCH.
Marrying an angel was not a part of Aemond's plans. Begrudgingly, he admitted he may have to reconsider his more violent revenge plots. Aemond had to prove himself worthy of you, and for once, worthiness did not mean prowess with a sword or riding a dragon. It meant piety.
Piety. Kindness. All the virtues that the Faith enforced and that you were made of. All the virtues Aemond felt he lacked, sometimes.
Taking his nephew's eye would not be kind. You had explained so, as if you could read his mind. You also said that Aemond should not attempt to force him to pay his debt. It had been an alarming show of clairvoyance.
That you were privy to his most secret inner thoughts should not have surprised him so. It was only further proof of your angelic nature.
Your arrival had the Kingdoms in an uproar. The Citadel had wanted to record the circumstances around your appearance, the Faith had made you pose for a portrait. Some even dared utter that perhaps Aemond was better suited to be King, since the Gods clearly favored him.
The King was displeased, but your miraculous arrival had been witnessed by too many to deny it. Aemond had been authorized to marry you, only out of sheer pressure from the High Septon. You were a hero to the man. Families who had been worshiping the Old Gods for generations now rushed to convert. Only House Targaryen remained stagnant.
Even after your marriage, Aemond struggled to catch a minute alone with you. Anywhere you went, people were currying for your attention. If it wasn't his other asking you to join her in prayer, it was some Septon asking you questions, or near mobs awaiting outside the Red Keep for you to appear on a balcony. People thought your touch was magical, that you could heal the sick and bless the innocents. Aemond had to fight to keep their hands off you.
As the wife to a Prince favored by the Seven, all thoughts of going back were stomped on. You had mentioned it once or twice, before he had married you. Going back home, you had said. Aemond understood that the earthly world was much different than where you had been from, and the homesickness that came with it, but he hoped you forgot such silly ideas. There was no way for you to go home, and if there was, he would not allow it.
In hopes of distracting you, his mother had suggested expediting the wedding. Aemond had agreed, but he had soon realized that it was not enough. While sweet and kind to him, and clearly loving, your mind still drifted to thoughts of your life before. Something stronger was needed. And there was only one stronger bond than marriage. He had to put a babe in you.
Such thing, unfortunately, was much harder than expected. To produce a child, a couple needed to lay together in ways Aemond and you had not. You were loving, pressing kisses to his lips and cheeks every chance you had, but it was a pure kind of affection. You had been told that you were his wife, and what that entailed, innocent being that you were. It didn't mean anything. You were only trying to do what you thought was needed.
Aemond didn't dare touch you. It was his right to do so, but he was unsure if it was the moral thing to do. You probably weren’t too sure of the connotations of the act and all that it entailed. Besides, was it really his right? You were no ordinary woman. You were an otherworldly being, an angel, a perfect woman carved out by the Maiden herself and sent to him to love and cherish. You were not meant to be hurt or tainted in any way.
Intercourse was dirty. It hurt maidens, and it was a sin when practiced outside the marriage bed. Despite always pleasurable to him, and sometimes to his companions, Aemond was not too sure he should submit you to it.
You were heavenly. Asking you to have intercourse with him would be asking you to roll around in the mud while wearing a white dress. It would make you earthly, change you. And you were perfect just the way you were.
Yet Aemond could not contain these… Urges. When you kissed the corner of his lips, all he could think about was grabbing you and deepening the kiss until he got to know every inch of your mouth. When you hugged him close, letting him curl around you at night and hide his face on your neck, Aemond thought of kissing and bitting and sucking the supple skin until you were writhing in pleasure. When your hand innocently grazed against his thigh, he thought of his hands squeezing your own thighs, pulling them apart to reveal your core.
It was a sinful way of thinking. He knew it was wrong of him, but he could not stop. He could not control it. If only his waking thoughts were sinful, things would be different. Waking thoughts could be controlled. Dreams could not.
Every night, without fail, Aemond woke up drenched in sweat, breeches uncomfortably tight. He saw you in his dreams, in all sorts of lurid positions. Your pretty lips parted, your thighs fluttering open and closed like the wings of a butterfly. You on your knees, back, your bosom spilling from your bodice, your pretty breasts, nipples puffy. His mouth, his hands, his cock, on you, in you.
The dreams were pleasurable while they lasted, but as soon as Aemond woke up and saw you sleeping peacefully next to him, the guilt returned. You let out the tiniest puffs of air when you breathed, and always chased his warmth on cold nights. Adorable being that you were, you curled into him, unaware of the turmoil you caused.
Aemond could no longer take it. At first, he tried looking for answers to his dilemma inside of books. He soon found out his studies of philosophy and history had not prepared him for the monster that was theology.
So he asked for advice. To the only person who had to be an expert on the topic. The High Septon.
By the end of the day, a panel with four Maesters and ten Septons had been formed to discuss the issue.
“She is a pure being. The Queen and a Septa have confirmed that she has female anatomy, but having it does not mean she should be defiled.” One of the Maesters spoke, frowning. Aemond nodded along. It had been like he thought.
“It's hardly defiling if the Maiden gifted her to the Prince. She blessed the union.” The High Septon argued, sitting straighter in his chair. He clearly was uncomfortable at the thought of Maesters, of all people, interfering in these matters. What Aemond could not figure out was why the man had invited them if they clearly ruffled his feathers.
“The Maiden is a maiden. That's the whole point.” Another Maester rolled his eyes. It was a sound logic. Aemond felt even guiltier after hearing that. Thinking about you in such a manner was impure. You were a representative of the Maiden herself, here on Westeros. Even thinking of such dirty things near you was disrespectful. It was as if he were thinking them about the Maiden herself.
“Well, yes, but if you ask for a wife, is it not implied?” Septon Eustace chimed in. Aemond had never particularly enjoyed the royal Septon, but he was proving to be very useful. “I do not presume to know how the Prince words his prayers, nor do I think I can know his intentions, but…”
A companion. Someone kind. The prayer had started innocent enough, a child asking for a friend. Aemond had kept it worded exactly as it had been back then, when he was eight years old and dragonless. But he had grown, and so had his intentions. When he spoke of a companion, did he still think of a friend? Or rather, a wife?
The word companion indicated someone that assisted, that served to cater to a necessity. Not quite a friend, but someone to ward off loneliness. A somewhat inferior being, even. It was a term used to refer to pets, after all.
Women were precious beings. Images of the mother, to be treasured and protected, but never equals. Wives were, after all, lower than husbands. It was why they must be obedient to them, why they should mind the children and the home. They were not made to stand on their own. Women were made to stand next to a man.
Besides, wasn't it interesting? The Gods could have sent him a man. A boy. A dog. But instead, they had sent him a woman near his age, with pretty eyes and a tempting mouth.
“Hardly.” A Septon interfered. “There has been precedent of marriages that…”
“Marriages declared null.” The High Septon snapped. His mood was a reflection of the room. The conversation was starting to turn more and more heated, murmurs breaking out among the gathered. It brought uncomfortable memories of the day Aemond had met you and had to fight a frenzied mob. He had the feeling this was going to turn into that quickly.
Perhaps sensing the same, another Maester spoke.
“Why don't we ask her? She must know the Seven's will in the matter.”
Neither of the fourteen other men in the room had thought of that.
When Aemond asked you, timidly, if you wished to consummate the marriage, you could have danced from joy.
You had decided early on that if going back was not an option, you were going to make the most of your stay here. You missed your family and friends, but your life here was so pampered that you didn't feel so bad. Any quirks of behavior that you had were excused as part of your angelic nature, and you had the biggest crush on the man who had married you.
If only Aemond didn't refuse to even touch you. So far, you have tried everything. You have kissed him. Stroked him. Cuddled far too close to him, so you are nearly on top of him. Groped his thigh, almost his cock. Your behavior has bordered on indecent even by modern standards, yet Aemond dismisses it all as innocent. He is either the most oblivious man on the planet or he doesn't want you.
That suspicion had given you pause. If Aemond did not want you, you weren't about to force him to do so. You had stopped with your insistent touching, and went back to light kisses on the cheek. Instead, you had made the mistake of looking around.
You are so horny it's driving you mad. Being married in Westeros is not what you thought it would be. You expected much more sex. Besides, everyone here was insanely good-looking, especially the man sleeping next to you and waking up every morning with a raging erection. Anyone with a sliver of a libido would be frothing at the mouth and clawing at walls from horniness.
In your other life, you had watched HOTD and understood the message clearly. Despite being a common occurrence, cheating was not a good idea. There were no reliable contraception methods and no way of preventing STDS.
Even if you were not aware of all the possibles consequences of cheating from your knowledge about the show, you now knew Aemond. He was terrifying, devout, and hated his bastard nephews. You did not want to see what he would do if he caught you cheating.
So here you were. Into forced chastity and perpetually horny, with your husband asking you if you thought it was a good idea to consummate the marriage.
You could have jumped from the bed in your haste to show him exactly what you thought. But you had to maintain your air of an otherworldly being. Which you technically were, since this was not your world.
“Whichever you think best, my Prince.” You answered, voice soft and patient. Just as you had always spoken in his presence. It had done wonders to make Aemond seek your company. He found you soothing, or so he said.
Aemond reached forward. His hand cupped your cheek, very gently. You looked up at him with your most innocent eyes.
He lowered his hand, shoulders slumping in defeat. You tried not to let it show how much it hurt you to have all you wanted dangled in front of you and then taken away.
“I cannot touch you. Nor should I lust after you. You are…” Aemond’s eyebrows pinched together. His face showed an inner conflict that made your own heart soften. Perhaps he had grown to care for you, in the ways you wished he did. He just didn't think it appropriate.
You stepped closer. This time, it was your hands that cupped his face. Aemond's eye closed, briefly. He seemed to be enjoying the touch, committing it to memory.
“Kiss me.” You whispered, pulling him close. Aemond went into the hug, nuzzling your hair. Despite the sweetness with which he responded, his frame was tense. “Please. I beg it of you.”
“I can't. I can't defile you.” He sounded truly strained. You rubbed his back, gently. “ A perfect being, such as yourself, does not deserve this.”
“It won't hurt. I know how to do it.” You explained, softly. Perhaps he worried about hurting you, you thought. You were no blushing virgin, but Aemond did not know that.
“Of course. You are an enlightened being. But it does not mean you have to put that into practice. You must know of the mysteries of death, yet you have not hurt anybody.”
“Because killing is wrong.” And truly, it was a ridiculous comparison. Sex had not killed anyone, at least that you knew of. It was not meant to hurt.
“Sex is, too. It's only for making heirs, and I am a second son. I don't need heirs.”
And by the look of his face, Aemond really believed what he was saying. The thought of him suffering, of being so deeply repressed, hurt you. You understood well how damaging thinking about sex in that way could be.
It hurts you more to think it might have been exacerbated by you. The thought of you being this perfect soul, someone so pure and easily hurt, and then the thought of tainting you. It said a lot about his mental health.
You vowed then you would aid you in any way you could.
“It's not wrong.” You whispered, and moved slightly back from his embrace. “Let me show you.” And you were kissing him, and Aemond was kissing back. His lips were soft, and he held you as if you were the most delicate glass vase he had ever held. You understood him now. And one day, Aemond would understand this too.
#aemond targaryen x reader#prince aemond x reader#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x you#prince aemond x you#aemond targaryen fic#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen x oc#prince aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#aemond fluff#hotd aemond#asoiaf fanfic#asoif/got#asoif fanfic#cristi's bingo
633 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
x-brockie
five thousand fists in the sky
mementomoribrasil
Memento Mori Brasil
goingbacktopigfarts
A studyblr
bikercouple
Texas Biker Couple
dokidobe
yellow.dr.monv