#/prince whatever from frozen voice

[obstinatecondolement]

Oh, Art... if only there was someone out there who loved you...

[jeonginsleftcheek]

In Der Palästra

pairing: prince!lee know x servant!afab!reader

genre: smut, royal au, angsty

word count: 4.7k

warnings: vague mentions of abuse(not by minho), oral (m receiving), kind of power play, unprotected sex (don't), honestly minho is kinda soft in this (lmk if i should add any more warnings)

(also i am so tired so if there are mistakes i apologize)

check out: Masterlist

a/n: (the song is not everyone's cup of tea but i hope yall enjoy the fic)

inspired by lyrics of this song:

You weren't supposed to be here, but your curiosity always got the better of you ever since you were a child. Back then, your soul and body weren't as tainted as they are now, there was a time when you were innocent and full of wonder.

Until all of the safe walls crumbled down around you and revealed the reality of being a nobody, just a servant for the royal family who owns the land and the sky. Their prince Minho, is someone you always fearfully admired from afar. His face is always stoic, devoid of any emotion as his dark cat-like eyes scan the crowd.

He never even spared you a look while you stood in the back, but your eyes were always trained on him, like he was a magnet pulling you into his direction.

You were looking for a little nook to hide in, just for a while before you have to resume with your duties, searching for just one moment of peace where you weren't used and abused, treated like an insignificant speck of dirt.

Since you always had a love for nature, you gravitated towards one of the gardens, but to your surprise you weren't alone. Your body freezes at the sight before you, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as you hide behind a bush of hydrangeas.

Prince Minho, in all his naked glory as he bathes in one of the wells, the clear water splashing against his strong body, dripping down his spine, caressing his porcelain-like skin.

You can't believe you came across a moment so delicate on accident, a moment of sensual masculinity as you observe movements of every muscle on his back and shoulders, his biceps, his backside, his thighs, and you can see his member hanging heavy between his legs.

You swallow the saliva that gathered in your mouth quietly, the admiration you have for the prince turning into a stirring feeling in your gut, like a beast awakening from a lifetime long slumber all the way from the depths of your soul, hungry for something more.

He is beyond beautiful, the sun is reflecting off of his perfect skin, almost blinding you as you keep staring at him, unable to tear your eyes away like you're hypnotized by his presence. You know you could literally lose your head for sneaking around and watching the prince bathe, but your soul is enveloped in darkness in every waking moment of your life, sometimes even seeping into your dreams, and prince Minho is like a sun shining onto you right now, warming up your cold soul.

You could say you adore him, like everyone does, you're sure he's never had to face the horrid and disgusting things that happen in the shadow-covered corners of his palace, the ones you were a witness and a victim to countless times.

You make a mistake by adjusting your footing and accidentally stepping on a branch, snapping it in half.

"Who's there?"- Minho's soft voice breaks the tranquility of the garden and your heart gets stuck in your throat. "Show yourself!"- he demands, turning his gorgeous body towards the direction of the sound and you get a good look at his defined chest and abs, his heavy cock bouncing a little.

You stay frozen for a moment, weighing your options. If you stay where you are, he will surely make his way to the hydrangeas and when he finds you, you will be reprimanded for peeping at him. If you try to run away, you would be caught and if you stepped out you might be yelled at. Whatever you do, you know you will be punished, the question is which one of the options would bring you the lesser punishment.

You opt for showing yourself, maybe he would be lenient with you if you came out and begged for forgiveness with everything you have.

You finally come out slowly, fear coursing through your body as you shiver, you eyes cast downwards towards the floor.

"What's your name, girl?"- the prince asks, surprisingly calm.

"Y/n."- you say quietly and he hums.

"You know it's rude to look at the floor while talking to someone."- he speaks up after a moment and you gasp, looking up at him quickly.

His face is stoic as always, but you can see his lips lifting up slightly into a small smirk, it's almost unnoticeable but you caught it.

"I apologize, your Highness."- you say, your voice trembling.

"And what about peeping at me while I'm bathing? Should you apologize for that too?"- he says and you gasp, throwing yourself down on your knees instantly.

"I am so sorry, your Highness! It was not my intention but I did it anyways! Please, I beg for your forgiveness, my Prince. I- I will take any punishment you give me because I know I deserve it!"- your eyes tear up as you beg.

The unnerving silence that follows your desperate begging is worse than being yelled at. You can only hear your own heavy breathing and birds chirping all around the garden before the prince speaks up again.

"Stand up."- he says and you scramble to stand on your feet quickly. "Come here and make yourself useful."

Your brain freezes for a moment as you look up at him.

"Can you follow orders?"- prince Minho asks in a slightly mocking tone.

"Yes! Yes, I can follow orders."- you quickly make your way to him and your legs tremble when you stand before him.

You've never been this close to the gorgeous prince, finally being able to see his sharp nose and jawline, his pretty pink lips and those deep dark eyes that stared right into your soul, like he knows what you're thinking.

"Help me wash my back while I think about what I'll do with you."- he sits, and you catch a glimpse of a smirk before he turns his back to you.

A shiver runs through your body, you're fearful of what kind of punishment will be dealt to you but you're also awestruck about the fact that you'll actually touch the prince's perfect body. If this is the last thing you do in your miserable life, maybe it's not so bad to cease to exist after this.

You grab the cloth he prepared and start gently cleaning his back, feeling his muscles relax under your hands. His skin is so soft and you wish you could worship it day and night.

It's eerily quiet again, but you're concentrated on the task you have, your hand holding onto the prince's bicep as you massage his shoulder with the cloth.

He lets out a little hum of satisfaction, before a chuckle escapes his mouth. You stop your movements as your heart beats faster.

"I didn't tell you to stop, girl."- he says and you quickly continue.

"I noticed you around the palace, you know?"- he says after a little while and you let out a small gasp of surprise. "You're one of the pretty ones. Which means you've probably been touched before."

You shiver when he says that, the feeling of unwanted hands on you making you recoil.

He turns to look at you and sees the sadness your eyes hold, and he observes you, making you feel small under his sharp gaze.

"It wasn't something you wanted, was it?"- he lifts his hand up and cradles your cheek, another gasp of surprise escapes your lips as you naturally lean into his touch, his hand gentle and warm in contrast of anything that ever touched you before.

You shake your head, letting out a weak 'no'.

The prince leans in without a word and when his lips brush against yours, your heart leaps out of your chest and you chase his soft lips but he moves away quickly.

"I'm not gonna punish you. I'm gonna punish the people who did things to you and other servants so don't be scared of me."- he says and your eyes tear up. You act without thinking as you throw your arms around his shoulders and start thanking him, tears running down your cheeks like rain.

His hands are on your waist and the touch snaps you out of your little sob fest, and you snap back to reality, moving away from the prince.

"I-I am so sorry, your Highness! I didn't mean to do that."- you wipe your tears quickly but his hands are still holding you.

"Do you fancy me, y/n?"- he asks, his fingers rubbing your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

"I-I'm not allowed..."- you start but he stops you.

"Answer the question."- he says sternly.

"Yes, I do, my prince."- you nod and he smiles, making your heart flutter.

"Is it okay if I take your dress off?"- he asks and your core starts throbbing at the thought of being naked together with the prince.

"Yes, your Highness."- you whisper and he gently slides one strap down, his fingertips light on your skin as he leans in and presses a chaste kiss on your jaw.

His lips are gentle against your face as he leaves slow kisses across your jaw line to your cheek, his hand slowly sliding the other strap down, caressing your arm and making goosebumps rise on your skin.

His lips brush against yours again before he kisses you and you melt into him instantly, tilting your head back as prince Minho leads the kiss.

Your dress starts sliding down your chest, the valley of your breasts exposed as the prince swipes his tongue on your lower lip.

You part your lips, gladly letting him explore your mouth as he dominates you with his tongue, his hands speeding up the process of your dress sliding down your body.

Your breasts pop out and you shiver as the chilly breeze caresses your pert nipples. Prince Minho leans away from your lips to look at you and your arms lift up instinctively to hide away from him.

"Don't hide. You're beautiful."- he says, and you think it's absurd that the most perfect man you've ever seen is calling you beautiful. You don't believe him yet you still let him move your hands down.

"Can I touch you?"- he asks and you nod quickly, muttering out a quiet 'yes'.

His hands cup your breasts, thumbs running on your nipples and playing with them and you let out a little whimper as you lean into his touch.

Your core drips with arousal and you subtly grind against the fabric of your dress, looking for relief as the prince squeezes and massages your breasts, the pads of his fingers constantly stimulating your sensitive nipples.

One of his hands comes up to hold the back of your head as he leans in and gently pulls your head back, revealing your neck to him completely.

Your breathing gets heavier as you try to focus on him but your eyes are getting hazy already and so is your mind.

Prince Minho pulls you a bit closer to his body, slotting his leg between yours. He leans into your neck, soft kisses are pressed into your skin all the way from your collarbone to your jaw. You grip at his strong arms as he slides your dress up on your thigh before covering his leg with it and pressing his knee into your hot and wet cunt.

You whimper a bit louder as his kisses get wetter and sloppier, his hand gropping your breast harder, his knee pressing into your heat as you rut against him. Your clit slides against him perfectly, your cunt making squelching sounds from the amount of arousal dripping from it.

Prince Minho smirks into your neck before removing all stimulation away from you and you whine a little at the loss.

Your head falls down and you finally look at him. A jolt of lightning runs through you when you see his pretty cock fully hard and leaking only for you, and without thinking, you slide down to your knees, your lips parting as you lean in closer to his member.

The prince chuckles and you snap out of your trance and look up at him, feeling a little ashamed for being so eager and entranced.

"You like it, hm?"- he teases, his hand tangling in your hair as you nod quickly again, your breasts shaking with the movement.

"P-please let me give you pleasure, my prince..."- you beg quietly and he smirks down at you, his eyes darkening with lust as he spreads his legs a little more to make place for you, pushing your head towards him gently.

"Go ahead, sweetheart."- the nickname makes your cunt throb as you put your tongue out, catching a drop of salty pre cum on it and the taste drives you feral so you push the tip of your tongue into his slit, licking at the rest of the pre cum gathered on it.

Prince Minho jolts forwards, the underside of his head sliding against your tongue. You look up at him as his lips part and he slowly moves the tip up and down on your tongue. Your eyes flutter as his breathing gets deeper and you let out a moan before enveloping your lips around his head.

The prince curses quietly as you nip at his underside with the tip of your tongue and play with him, sucking gently. His hand tightens in your hair and this eggs you on so you take more of him in your mouth.

You're not sure how much you'll be able to take because the prince is well endowed but his cock is worth the worship you want to give him, so you slowly slide down to take more of him, your hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock. Your other hand grabs at his thigh so you can brace yourself to take him into your mouth.

The prince's eyes darken further as your big eyes stare up at him almost innocently, your mouth stuffed full of his cock as you keep trying hard to take more with each bob of your head.

You suck on him eagerly, coating his member with your saliva as your eyes flutter, and prince Minho grunts lowly, his fingers tangle further in your hair and he grips it, his hips jolting upwards involuntarily.

The sight of the beautiful prince falling apart because of you, his eyes hazy and his pretty lips parted, his cheeks and neck flushed as he stares at you make your arousal gush out and drip down your thigh. You squeeze your thighs together and accidentally slide down on his cock more making yourself gag. The prince moans as his tip hits the back of your throat, and you breathe through your nose as you engulf his whole length, your nose ending up in his pubes.

He feels, tastes and smells heavenly and you swear you can cum just like this, with his cock fucking your fluttering throat slowly. You bring your hand between his legs to gently grab his balls and the prince whimpers, his hips fucking into you a little more desperately as you massage his balls and let him use your mouth.

You feel his cock twitch, his balls are heavy and full of cum and you're ready to swallow every drop he's willing to give you.

"I'm cumming!"- the prince announces and you whimper around him, bobbing your head faster and gagging on his length as he meets your movement with his thrusts.

"Ah!"- his eyebrows knit together, a bead of sweat running down his forehead as he shuts his eyes tightly, almost looking angry as he shoots his load into your throat nearly making you choke on the warm liquid. You swallow quickly and keep swallowing as you milk his beautiful cock until you feel him go limp in your mouth and twitch from overstimulation.

You release him and look up at him, your cunt is throbbing for any kind of touch and he sits there for a moment, still not opening his eyes as he tries to even out his breathing and come down.

"You took everything I gave you, hm?"- he looks at you suddenly, his hands cupping your face.

"Yes, my prince."- you nuzzle into his hands and he gives you a smile that makes your chest and core flutter.

He doesn't say anything as he slides your dress down more, gently caressing the folds of your stomach and you adjust your position so he can slide the dress off completely.

You don't miss the way the prince licks his lips when he sees your dripping cunt, your arousal making a mess on your inner thighs.

The prince kneels between your legs as he lays you down in the grass, your dress acting as a blanket you can lay on. His eyes scan your body for a moment and you feel self-conscious as he can see all your scars and imperfections, your body was far from the ethereal look his body held.

"Who did this to you?"- his fingers trace the scars on your thigh.

"S-some guards."- you answer quietly, avoiding prince Minho's eyes and looking up at the bright blue sky, the reflection of the sun making him look surreal in your peripheral.

"You know their names?"- he asks and you finally glance at him, shivering as you notice a different kind of darkness in his eyes, anger.

"Y-yes."- you nod.

"Good. You'll tell me later."- he says and with that he leans back and looks around before his eyes land on a pretty flower growing near by where the two of you sit in the grass. He leans towards it and plucks it out, firstly staring at it and you look at him with slight confusion in your face, wondering what he did that for.

"Stay still."- he says, and your questions are answered when the prince gently runs the petals on your nipple and you gasp quietly, arching your back. He looks at you intently as he starts slowly running the flower against your nipple and your sensitive body reacts with more arousal gushing between your legs, your hips lifting up and begging for friction.

The prince ignores your needy hips for now, his focus on stimulating your pretty nipples. You let out little moans as your nails dig into the dress spread underneath you.

You've never been touched this gently, you've never been looked at like this, your body never knew arousal like this.

Prince Minho slowly drags the flower down your tummy to your cunt as he presses it against your wet folds, running the smooth petals all over your heat.

You moan, your breaths coming out ragged as your body shakes gently, your hips fucking up into the flower. It's not enough pressure on your cunt but you're still dripping, your eyes tearing up from frustration and the prince leans in closer to your face, his lips attaching to yours before he leaves kisses all over your cheeks and neck.

You're getting lost in the gentle pleasure as prince Minho's lips trail kisses from your collarbone to your breast, before he kisses your nipple and then swipes his tongue against the hardened bud.

You keen, arching further into him and he takes your nipple in his mouth sucking on it as he puts a little more pressure on your cunt with the flower, his other hand caresses your waist and your eyes water again at being handled so gently that you can't help when your hips spasm and you explode, squirting on the flower and your thighs.

"Pretty."- the prince smirks as he looks at your arousal dripping from the flower and you whimper in embarassment as you turn away from him.

"Look at me."- he gently grabs your chin and turns your head towards him. You gulp and look at his hand which is now wrapped around his hard throbbing member, the flower set aside.

"My prince."- you whimper as he gently presses the tip of his cock into your clit. You gasp as he runs it on your dripping folds, your cunt is hungry for him, opening up to catch his tip a few times as he keeps rubbing you.

Every swipe of the head ends with him pressing it into your sensitive bundle of nerves and you whimper, lifting your hips up in hopes that he'll just put it in finally, giving you that delicious stretch.

"P-please."- you whimper.

"You want my cock, sweetheart?"- he asks, pushing just the tip in and you keen, spreading your legs even more and arching into him.

"Yes, please."- you whimper again, fresh tears gathering in your eyes again.

"You can have my cock."- he smirks leaning over you, his strong arms on either side of you as he gently grabs your wrists, holding them down and slowly pushing his big cock into your tight cunt.

The stretch is perfect, your pussy opens up for the prince, taking the shape of his cock as he pushes so slowly so you feel every inch of him entering you. His sharp eyes stare into yours the whole time as you whimper, your hands turning into fists as pleasure starts overtaking your senses.

Prince Minho grabs one of your hands as he bottoms out, grunting lowly and leaning your hand on his chest.

"Touch me."- he says and your hand is rough, your fingers calloused from all the physical work you do with them, you almost feel embarassed to be touching his fair, soft skin with your harsh hands.

The prince doesn't seem to mind as he holds your wrist, making you run your hand on his chest as his cock throbs inside you. Your pussy clenches around him and he groans, his hands sliding down to your hips, then to your thighs. He grips them, slowly sliding his cock against your wet, velvety walls.

You grab at the dress under you again, fisting it from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure his cock is bringing to you, hitting as deep as he can, touching your cervix with every thrust forward.

Prince Minho grabs your legs and presses your knees to your shoulders, leaning closer to you so your legs wrap around his shoulders.

"Ah!"- you whimper when he pulls his cock out only to ram it back in hard and fast.

Your brain gets foggy instantly as he stops holding back and starts fucking his cock into you harder, his heavy balls slapping your ass, his hips slamming down with strength, his whole weight crushing down on you.

His strong arms are on either side of your head, as he leans his body on yours, his dark eyes never leaving yours. You recognize a deep primal look of hunger in his eyes as he rams his hard cock deep inside you.

You would panic if someone else was above you like that but something about prince Minho brings you security and you feel safe in his hold like that.

You let go of everything, completely surrendering to the moment and you cum all around the prince's cock, moaning and shaking as your juices make everything more wet and slippery, making the prince grunt lowly.

The squelching sounds fill up the space between you as the prince looks down at your breasts bouncing between your bodies, your nipples dragging on his skin with each hard thrust of his strong hips. Both of your moans and breaths mix together in the small space between your faces as he keeps fucking you, his hips relentless and you clench down on his throbbing cock, exploding around his length again.

The prince pulls out slowly and you whimper at the empty feeling, but his hand comes down to caress your stomach.

"I would love to fuck a baby in you, but we'd both be in trouble if I were to do that."- he says, so casually and you almost choke on a moan as he flicks your clit, his other hand jerking off his hard member.

"Mm, I know..."- you swallow and he chuckles lowly.

"Get on all fours. I wanna cum on your back and ass."- the prince talks dirty, making you shiver, hearing stuff like that from someone seemingly pure and majestic.

You do as he says, leaning your chest down so your ass is up in the air and prince Minho grabs your flesh roughly as you listen to the squelching sound of his wet cock fucking his hand.

You moan, jolting a little, making your nipples graze against the rough fabric of the dress. You whimper, your neglected pussy clenching around nothing and prince Minho notices you moving against the ground, stimulating your nipples.

Without any warning, he plunges three fingers inside your sopping cunt and you keen loudly, gripping at the fabric under your body.

You don't know how he can finger you so good while jerking off at the same time but you don't have time to question anything, your mind hazy as you come close to another orgasm.

Prince Minho's moans get more high pitched and a particularly loud moan leaves his lips before you feel hot spurts of cum land on your ass and back, the feeling making you cream deliciously around his fingers.

He unloads everything on you, cursing under his breath as he gives your ass a smack, making you whimper.

He pulls his fingers out of your hole, bringing them to your lips.

"Taste."- he smirks as he hovers over you and you wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking on them and looking up at him hazily.

You wish this moment with the beautiful prince never ends but nothing lasts forever. He pulls out his fingers and helps you sit up.

You don't know what's gonna happen next, but you didn't expect the prince to grab a clean cloth, getting it wet before gently cleaning you up.

Your eyes tear up and a sob escapes your lips, as you've never been treated like this before.

"Shh, I know. It's okay."- he whispers, his hands soothing on your skin, his fingertips tracing every scar he can find on your body.

You feel like he's worshipping them as he leans closer and kisses the back of your shoulder gently before his strong arms envelop around your chest, pulling you to rest your back around him.

He caresses your body wherever he can reach and as you come down from the mix of all the feelings you just went through, you think this might be a dream.

"W-what now, my prince?"- you ask, your heart beating hard against your chest. Fresh tears are already brimming at your eyes as you imagine never being this close to prince Minho again.

"You're gonna tell me their names. All of them. Don't even try to think about sparing their miserable lives."- he says, sounding almost angry and you shiver a little as his grip around you becomes stronger.

He loosens his grip and makes you look at him.

"Do you understand?"- he asks and you nod as you stare into his eyes, feeling hypnotized by him again.

"Yes, my prince."- you confirm.

"Say my name at least once. I wanna hear it from your lips."- the prince says, brushing his thumb on your lower lip slowly.

You stare at him in shock, your heart leaping out of your chest and the prince just looks at you expectantly.

"M-Minho."- you say quietly, scared to utter his name informally like that.

"Again."- he whispers, closer to your face.

"Minho."- you say it a little louder and he smirks before pressing his lips into yours, giving you a slow wet kiss that has you feeling weak.

"I will take care of the pests today. And after that I want you to join me in my chambers."- he says and you gasp.

"B-but I-"

"Ah, ah."- he puts his finger on your lips.

"I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart. There's a lot I want to know about you."- the prince smirks and you gulp, your eyes wide as they look at him.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny

[aemondluvbot]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜 — 𝖎

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱part two

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i adore reading shy and timid heroines that are coaxed out of their shells. as such i adore writing them too. i'm also not incredibly well versed about the hotd universe. whatever i know is based only on the show, so it's possible there are errors. still, i hope you enjoy.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: reader is quite shy but not overly so. smut, intercourse (p in v), horrible “riding a dragon” puns

“you wish to ride a dragon?” prince aemond’s voice startles you enough for you the drop the pillow you’re holding. 

it’s freshly fluffed, about to be placed on the bed you’d made so neatly just minutes ago. and now the pillow sits on it awkwardly while you stare at the prince like a scared little deer. 

“my prince…” you manage a faint squeak, “i was—”

“telling the other maids how you’d be a stellar dragon rider, i heard,” the prince’s mouth curls into a little smirk you’ve come to know well from stolen glances. you stare at his feet, too afraid to meet his eyes. well, eye. 

“i didn’t mean…” you fidget with the hem of your frayed dress, wondering what the punishment would be. lashings? cleaning pigsties for a week? a month? 

“but you said it.” aemond’s voice still has that tone to it that you can’t quite decipher. and so you stand frozen while he looks at you from across the room. “tell me, my lady—”

“i’m no lady,” you pipe up, shutting up instantly when you realise you’ve interrupted a prince. the prince. “forgive me, my prince, i didn’t mean to interrupt. i…i…”

“you’re no lady,” he hums, as if you aren’t standing there shaking like a leaf, “what shall i call you then, little sparrow?”

his voice is soft like it always is—never boisterous like the king’s or stern like the dowager queen’s. it’s quiet and lilting and compelling. as much as you don’t want to meet his gaze, you find yourself doing exactly that. 

“on second thought,” he crosses his arms behind his back, taking graceful steps towards you like he’s gliding on the floor, “sparrow…has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“it does, my prince,” you smile to yourself quietly, “if you like it then i like it.”

for anyone else it would have been a lie. for king aegon, it certainly would have been a lie. but for the prince…when he says it, it’s like the name belongs to you. so much so that for a moment you forget where this conversation first started. until you find prince aemond standing directly in front of you, towering over you that is. 

“so tell me, little sparrow,” he says again, voice so soft it skitters down your bones and makes you shiver in the middle of a long, hot summer, “you wish to ride a dragon?”

“the truth?” you ask, feeling a little braver than before. 

“i’ll have nothing but that.”

for a moment you chew on your lip, a nervous habit taken up in lieu of biting your dirty, already worn fingernails. aemond’s gaze snags on it, though, and quickly you let go, begging your body to be a little more brave and keep meeting his eyes. it’s not everyday you get to see so much of him. in fact, it’s the first time you’ve gotten to see so much of him. 

“they fascinate me, your dragons,” you begin, “sunfyre, mostly.”

“my brother’s dragon,” the prince raises an eyebrow, looking at you with much more curiosity than before. “not vhagar?”

“she scares me, to be honest…” you admit, flushing a little when the prince’s smirk turns into a full blown smile. the smile stays for just a fleeting moment, enough for you to store it in your memories like a stolen sweet.

“she does that, yes,” he chuckles. it’s barely audible and yet pride blooms in your chest for having coaxed that sound out of him. 

“i…” you look around a little awkwardly, at the mess in the room that’s yet to be cleaned. it’s not that you don’t want to stand here and talk to him, if anything, that’s the one thing you want the most. to stand here and talk to him about his dragons, and have him tell you about them. have him tell you about himself too…

but if you don’t do your tasks on time then there’s consequences to face. consequences the prince won’t save you from. and so you give aemond a guilty smile. 

you must go and you must go now. 

“of course,” aemond bows a little, stepping aside to make way for you. 

quickly, you fix the pillow to where it was originally supposed to be and gather the old linens in your arms. then you curtsey as fast as you can and leave. 

you leave and are almost our the door before aemond’s voice freezes you mid-step. 

“if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.”

the day passes, and all you manage to do is think about aemond. you think about him as you wash the linens and hang them to dry, you think about him while you help the kitchen maids with the pots and wipe the floors of the keep. 

you think about him as you eat and gossip away with your friends. 

you don’t tell them though… all they know is that you were the one to clean his room in the morning and gather his linens. nothing more. 

they will never know anything more. 

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

that… is for you and you alone. 

you do get teased a little for your absent-minded smiles and your lack of attention to their gossip. you get teased and asked if any of the stable boys have caught your fancy. stable boys…nothing more. not a soldier or a knight or a lord. certainly not a prince. 

and yet when night falls you find yourself idling in the hallways that lead to his quarters. 

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

“does the prince need hot water?” you ask one of the maids, “for…for his bath…”

she looks at you in confusion. “malina’s already taken it,” she says, “minutes ago.” 

and so you drop the apple in your hands and hurry outside towards the prince’s room. malina is old, she can’t have gone that far can she? just like you predicted, she’s there when you turn around the corner, carefully balancing the hot water in her hands while a few other girls carry similar pots. you quickly cross the gap and call out for her. 

“let me,” you offer, arms outstretched, “you can go rest, malina. i’m done for the day, i can take this.”

she smiles at you gratefully while grumbling about old knees and hands you the pot. and so you set on your way, hiding a quiet smile and ducking your head when one of the guards gives you a strange look. 

the prince’s bedroom is awash in the glow of candlelight. for a moment, the excitement in your belly turns to disappointment. he isn’t here… of course he isn’t, he’s important and busy and has more things to do than sit in his bedroom all day thinking about you like you’ve thought about him. 

“you’re back, little sparrow,” the softness of his voice send flutters in your stomach. the other girls look towards each other, quiet looks passing between them. you know this would take precisely half a minute to spread around the keep. and yet it does not bother you one bit. 

“my prince, we’ve got water for your bath.”

“ah,” he nods and gestures vaguely towards the bathing chamber. 

one by one all of you enter, emptying the buckets in the brass tub until it’s full of steaming water and soaps and oils. one by one the others start leaving, their job done… 

the towels are on the counter, the candles are burning, the tub is filled—there’s nothing more to be done. you know he usually prefers to be alone. and yet you linger. 

you linger until aemond targaryen enters the bathing chamber, naked as the day he was born. 

and then you turn around fast enough to bump into the wall. 

“you startle easily, little sparrow,” aemond laughs. “never seen a naked man before?”

you have… that’s not the problem. you’ve just never seen a naked man as…well-endowed as him. your back still to him and your heart in your chest, you nod. there’s a slight splash as he settles into the tub. some of the spilled water licks the soles of your feet. finally, timidly, you turn. 

at least under the cloudy water he’s not so naked anymore. although his (now wet) chest certainly does nothing to calm your racing heart. 

“tell me,” aemond says, “did you think about dragons all day?”

well… 

“maybe,” you hedge, “a little.” and it’s not a lie. you did think of vhagar for a little, and sure it was only to think about aemond riding her into the skies, but she was there in your thoughts. briefly. 

“and what do you know about them?” 

from most people it would have been a condescending question, one to point out your intellectual capabilities or the lack thereof. from aemond it’s simply curiosity. 

“i know they’re gods. i know they’re old and powerful and only someone with valyrian blood can claim one. i know targaryen babes get a dragon’s egg for their cradle.” you answer rather proudly. 

“very good,” aemond nods. “come here. sit.” 

you look to where he’s pointing, at a little step stool in the corner. and then you see where his eyes are pointing, at a spot right by the tub. 

“do you read?” aemond asks as soon as you’ve settle by the tub. you blush, a little embarrassed. 

“i can’t…”

“no worries,” his voice turns gentle, “i was going to give you a book about vhagar’s riders. now i will just have to tell you about her myself.”

that startles you a little. surprised, you look at him again, really look at him—at his face that’s soft in the candlelight and his one eye that twinkles with mischief. you look at the leather patch covering the other, at the scar that runs around it. 

“can i ask why, my prince…”

“well,” aemond moves a little, sitting up straighter so a little more of his chest is now visible to you. the water cascades down pale skin, the candlelight creates hypnotising patterns that are pretty enough that you almost reach out and touch. 

touch the water and the light and the skin. touch him. 

but that’s a silly thought for silly girls. 

quickly you ball your hand into a fist and look at him again only to find him smirking. 

“as i was saying,” aemond says a little pointedly, “you can’t be scared of her if you wish to ride her someday now, can you?”

your heart thuds so loudly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. perhaps the entire red keep can hear it, perhaps king’s landing.

“i can’t ride her, she’s yours and… and she’ll kill me if i… she’ll burn me alive if i even go near her! and that’s if the guards don’t take my head first—”

“hush, little sparrow,” aemond moves fast enough that you have barely any time to stop rambling before he’s out of the tub and kneeling in front of you, his finger on your lips. not that you need it really, the situation is entirely enough to stun you into silence. 

you gape at the prince, at his beautiful, wet body that looks like it’s gleaming golden in the candlelight. you gape at him kneeling on his knees for you. a nobody. 

“will you stay quiet or will i have to make you?” he asks, his tone a little coy. 

heat coils in your belly, “would you like to, my prince?” 

and that’s more bold than you’ve ever been in your entire life. but now that you’re here and desperate and wanting so so much, you can’t really let shyness snatch it away. and so you straighten up a little, letting your eyes roam freely on his body. 

there are scars on his skin, of course there are, but even they look beautiful. then there’s the muscle honed by hours of sword training. his beautiful silver hair is damp from the water and gleaming like molten metal. you reach out and touch—just one strand that’s managed to stick to his cheek. 

aemond groans. 

leaving would be wise… leaving right this second would be even wiser, and yet when aemond tugs on your wrist and pulls you closer, it’s you who kisses him first. it’s heady, dizzying, intoxicating. he tastes like night air and burns like fire. 

you feel quite the same. 

your frayed old dress is quick to go as soon as he pulls you up—discarded by the tub casually. it gets half caught up on the edge but neither of you notice, too lost in the kiss. to caught up in the feel of the other’s body. 

you know he knows this room like the back of his hand. you don't need to. you can trust him at least in this regard—to lead you to his bed and fuck you any way he wants.  

“little sparrow,” he half-speaks, half-moans, “i want you. i want you right now.” it’s a needy and desperate confession, and it turns you on even more, makes your blood sing.

his hands are fast and nimble, eager to remove the last layer of clothes on you. still, the prince takes a moment to watch your hair come loose from your bun and cascade down your shoulders, his lips parted in awe and pupils blown out wide. 

you watch him. simply because he looks beautiful. 

“like what you see?” aemond teases and and you flush. 

it’s certainly a sight—the two of you standing opposite each other, entirely naked and about to devour each other. 

he walks backwards, eyes firmly on your body, lingering in all the places that make you feel like the only woman on he’s ever been with. he walks backwards till he eventually finds the bed and sits. 

“come here,” aemond says, beckons more like. and so you do—walking with a deliberate sway to your hips that his eyes train on until you’re standing right in front of him. knees touching his. 

“beautiful,” he says, looking up at you in awe.

you’re not entirely sure it’s true. you’re no lady in the court or a pretty foreign beauty. you’re no beautiful woman of the night, but hearing him say the words is still a delight. he makes it sound like he’s consumed by your beauty (even though it’s likely the lust that’s hazing their thoughts).

and yet he makes you feel like his own little midnight sun—bright, unique, central to his universe.��

you from before would have never though such stupid thoughts. 

and now you let him pull you onto his lap. 

you kiss him again, slow and sensual this time, rolling your hips against his, grinding on his thigh. it’s a deliberate torment, a torturous build-up so he could finally relieve the ache between your legs. 

“please, my prince” you breathe, “touch me.”

so he does, gently gripping your waist to keep you in the steady rhythm while his mouth moves down to your breasts. his tongue flicks around your nipple, drawing out a gasp and making you arch your back. you want more, so much more. 

aemond seems to sense the need.  

in one fluid movement, he’s on his back, and you on top. his cock brushes against your clit, drawing out whimpers. moonlight filters in through the windows, illuminating his face only just so that you can see his swollen lips—red, delicious—you can’t resist stealing another kiss. 

can’t resist tangling your hands in his silver hair and tracing a finger down his cheekbones, his jaw. he hisses with every movement, hard and throbbing beneath you. 

“are you ready for me, little sparrow?,” he moans, lowering you on his abdomen. his erection is pressed against your ass now—ready is what you are… ready and aching, eager to feel him. 

“p-please, my prince…”

aemond tuts. “say my name…”

your heart speeds up a little in your chest. it’s one thing to be sleeping with the prince, it’s another to forget your manners entirely and address him like he’s your equal. 

“i c-can’t,” you whimper, moving your hips in a desperate attempt to feel something. 

“i’ll stop this if you won’t” aemond says it like a promise, and there’s no way you want to risk it. if there’s even a slight chance of him stopping and leaving you here like this, a mess at his mercy… 

“a-aemond,” you whisper his name like it’s an unpredictable thing. his breath hitches in his chest. “aemond please…”

“good little sparrow…” his hands come to rest on your waist, lifting you up and gently guiding you down on his cock, filling you in inch by inch. you splay a hand on his chest, barely registering his racing heart. all you can focus on is how good he feels; hard and stretching you out. filling you to the hilt. 

“so perfect,” he hisses. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh while you roll your hips on his pelvis; too eager and desperate and full of want. you can already feel a bruise blooming on the back of your thighs where he grips so possessively.

“so are you, m–aemond,” you breathe, already consumed by the feeling of his cock hitting you over and over, in just the right spot. his hand reaches down and between your legs then, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles until you’re screaming his name and practically soaking him with your slick. 

aemond moves his hips too, thrusting up, fucking into you till a continuous string of curses falls out of his mouth. his chest glistens with sweat, sticky and warm and beautiful in the moonlight.

you’re lost in the pleasure, but you traces the scars on his chest—the faint dusting of hair and freckles, little nicks and cuts and faint bruises. you trace every part of him like he belongs to you somehow. like you belong to him too…

you suppose you do… at least that much is true. 

the pleasure builds and builds, your thoughts swirl more and disappear entirely the more he thrusts into you. he’s figured out your pattern—the rhythm that makes you tick and drives you crazy. and even when your thighs burn and tremble, you can’t seem to slow down. 

all you want to do is soar up and up and up until…

aemond’s hand is between your legs again, flicking your clit so roughly that it makes you cry out. and that’s what drives you over the edge. 

you moan his name again, chanting it like a blind devotee as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over you. you’re vaguely aware that you’re gripping onto his shoulders tightly, vaguely aware that you can feel his cock twitching inside you, coating your walls with his release.

gasping, you throw your head back, letting the orgasm wash over you. the loud, filthy, wet sounds are softer now, slower in pace as you both come to a stop. no one says a word—not a single teasing word or praise—there are only your breaths, out of sync and loud.

you slump forward, resting your warm cheek on his chest, hearing his heart beating loudly in your ear. 

“is that how it feels…?” your voice is ragged from screaming his name yet dripping with coyness. “is that how it feels to ride a dragon, my prince?”

aemond laughs—a real booming laugh that makes his chest vibrate and makes the sound permeate your skin, makes it settle bone deep. 

“i should say yes, shouldn’t i, little sparrow?” his fingers thread through your hair, much gentler now, lulling you to sleep almost. “do not worry about it. you’ll find out soon enough anyway…”

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

I Don't Care!: Heartslabyul

Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomfiore - Ignihyde - Diasomnia

Romantic Jealousy: Based on real or imagined threats to a romantic relationship. There could be a history of infidelity or flirtations; however, this could also be solely based on insecurities. Sexual/Suspicious Jealousy: Based on fears that a partner may have cheated or be engaged in inappropriate communication.

Does he get jealous?

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts likes to see himself as the least insecure person on the planet. But that changes when he sees Silver getting chummy with you...

The activities for the Equestrian Club had ended for the day and Riddle Rosehearts had made plans to spend the day with you on Sage Island. Just the two of you. He wanted to go visit a new bookstore that opened and get something to eat at a nearby café. The invitation was his indirect way of requesting a date with you. You had shown up ten minutes before the Equestrian Club's activities had ended for the day. Riddle didn't mind, but he also didn't like the idea of you waiting on him! With a quick wave exchanged between the two of you, he and the others began to return the horses to the stables.

Riddle was one of the last to finish up along with Sebek. He was chatting excitedly under his breath with Vorpal about how he hoped your date would go. Until he heard you giggle. His head snapped in the direction of the sound, a curious expression graced his features.

He poked his head out of the stable, cautious of making sure he wasn't seen as his curiosity morphed into something more... Intense. Something he couldn't label; but he did not like it. You were leaning against the wooden fence, a sweet smile on your face as Silver stood beside you. The two of you were talking, it was innocent but something about the sight bothered Riddle.

Was it that Silver was taller than Riddle? The way he looked down at you with longing eyes? Was it how he subtly moved closer and closer until his shoulder just barely grazed yours as he effortlessly got you to snicker at whatever it was he said? Was it his natural princely aura? The way his arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest?

The sight in front of Riddle left him feeling as though he could remove Silver's head from his body. Easily. He ground his teeth together when Silver leaned in close. Too close. The student pulled something out of your hair with a delicate grin that left Riddle's heart sinking into his gut. He and Silver got along fine. There were no ill intentions, Riddle knew that.

So why did he wish for Silver to be struck by lightning? Riddle was frozen in place until Sebek left the stables in a hurry, snapping at Silver to move his feet so they could return to 'Lord Malleus'. Silver diverted his attention away from you, offering you a wave goodbye as Riddle casually followed suit.

Sebek greeted you with his usual loud voice and the pair took off. Riddle now stood in front of you with his head spinning with a newfound worry. This is what Cater would explain as jealousy. But he's not jealous. He had no reason to be. Silver was probably dozing off and that's why he leaned against you. The student was just waiting on Sebek. You just happened to be there to chat with. It was nothing.

When you called Riddle's name, his eyes met yours. That icy shade of grey appeared clouded as he cleared his throat. His posture straightened as he nodded towards you with a weak smile. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting... I assume Silver kept you company? What did the two of you talk about?" Riddle isn't jealous. He doesn't care about things like that.

The two of you are dating. Everyone on campus knows that.

Trey Clover

Trey Clover isn't exactly the 'jealous' type. But he starts to re-think that when Che'nya starts to hit on you.

(tw blood)

Trey's eyes flickered between your smiling face and Che'nya's wide toothy grin. You had come over to assist him in baking an assortment of tarts for an UnBirthday Party, and apparently had met a familiar face on your way into Heartslabyul. Trey and Che'nya are friends and have been friends for a long time. And remained friends despite going to different schools; but this was different.

Something about seeing Che'nya getting so close to you was starting to piss Trey off.

He was silent as Che'nya hovered around you with his ear grating laugh. His fingers would linger against your clothes as the two of you talked with Trey idly listening and offering minimal input. He slid another dozen tarts into the oven to bake and removed the last set of twelve to allow them to cool.

Then, Che'nya got you to play a game with him. He slipped off your striped tie and wrapped it around your eyes as a blindfold. Trey glanced over with a frown and before he could speak, Che'nya waved a dismissive hand at him. "It's just a game. It's fine." He assured with that same toothy grin Trey was beginning to get sick of.

The beastman used a spoon to feed you different things, getting you to guess what the item was. Strawberries, walnuts, blueberries, and chocolate. All sorts of different things would be placed on the spoon for you to guess. It was harmless and you were clearly having fun. Trey thought that maybe he was overreacting. This wasn't that big of a deal. He had mentioned in passing that the two of you were dating to Che'nya. And everyone in NRC knew.

Che'nya wanted to get close to you because he was a friend to Trey, and he was naturally a very touchy and outgoing person. It's not that serious. Trey let out an exhale as he picked up a can of evaporated milk for one of the tart fillings. He glanced back over to see Che'nya looking at you with longing eyes, and the spoon he used to feed you was now hanging between his lips.

The can burst in his palm.

The sudden sound left Che'nya startled with a loud squeak of shock. The beastman turned invisible, leaving the spoon hanging in the air until he dropped it. You lifted the tie-blindfold with wide eyes before rushing over to check on Trey who dropped the can and looked at his palm. The metal had sliced open his hand, leaving it bleeding and mixing with the thick cream. He didn't even hear your worried voice as you tugged on his arm to pull him towards the sink to rinse off the wound. "Sorry... I'm not sure what came over me." He chuckled under his breath as you continued to fuss over him.

Your voice traveled in one ear and out the other as he started to frown. He didn't usually care about stuff like this. Or at least he thought he didn't care.

Cater Diamond

Cater knows he's a jealous person. Not that you would need to know that... But those emotions start spilling out when you have a tooth rotting encounter with Kalim...

Cater pretended to scroll through his phone, his eyes flicking up to look at Kalim with an annoyed side eye. The younger student was excitedly telling you about a mini concert the Light Music Club would be having at an underground club on the island. Something Cater has already told you about previously. 

“It’s gonna be so fun! And everyone is gonna be there. Even some of the RSA kids! The cool ones of course.” He promised with a wide smile, he sat backwards in his chair, his knee would sometimes bump against yours when he would kick his legs out with excitement. He would quickly apologize before going back to talking. Lilia was glancing between the group while sucking away at a box of tomato juice. 

“You can sit backstage with us too! I’ll show you all of the cool stuff.” Kalim offered to you with a gentle wave of his hand. He began to show you different hang out spots near the club, things to do and stuff to see. It was starting to feel almost like Kalim was inviting you on a pseudo date. But that couldn’t be the case. Cater didn’t think Kalim was smart enough to pull something like that off. 

Cater hummed thoughtfully before scooting closer to you with a lazy smile on his face. “We already have plans after the concert. Sorry Kalim.” Cater explained as he opened his camera up to take a quick selfie with you. “You did?! Sorry! I didn’t mean to change anything.” He smiled sheepishly as you posed in the photo before turning to Kalim, assuring him that it was fine. You had no idea Cater had made plans for after the concert.

Seeing Kalim going back to smiling and laughing with you made Cater frown. He slid an arm around your waist as he started to decorate the edges of your picture with stickers and colorful emojis. He began to pull you closer and closer subconsciously until you were seated on his thigh with a soft gasp of surprise leaving your lips. Lilia stood with his emptied tomato juice, turning to Kalim with a smile. “Oh, I’m out of juice! Kalim,” He shook the empty box in his pale hand. “Why don’t you walk with me? I’m not a fan of going alone.” He let out a dramatic sigh, appearing forlorn as Kalim jumped out of his seat. “Oh! I’ll go with you! Don’t worry.” He beamed and headed to the door with Lilia. “We’ll be right back guys!” Kalim waved to the both of you, and you waved back before turning to face Cater.

He was pouting as he surrounded the image in orange and red hearts. You asked him what was wrong and he shook his head. “Nothing, I’m a little tired, that's all.” He tried to feign a smile but it fell quickly when he went to post the photo on MagiCam. He doesn’t care. It’s not that serious. When you leaned over and kissed his cheek he felt his heart skip in his chest. Yeah, he has no reason to be jealous.

Ace Trappola

Ace doesn't believe he's jealous. In fact, it's beneath him. Well, he thought that until Malleus started hanging around...

Ace narrowed his eyes at Malleus as he sat on the other side of you during lunch. Malleus who was never seen gracing this part of the school, yet here he was showing you how he could make flowers out of nothing but magic. 

His eyebrow twitched when Malleus would lean down to hand them to you. Some of them would explode into glitter, some would fade away into colorful petals, and one turned into a mini swarm of butterflies. Ace could do a magic trick like that too. If you asked him to show you he would with no problem. 

Ace straightened out and looked at Malleus. His stupid horns, his stupid handsome face, the way his half lidded eyes looked at you as though no one else were around. It was infuriating. Ace’s jaw was starting to clench and he suddenly met eyes with the prince of Briar Valley. Lime green and cherry red locked together with challenging stares. “That’s an easy trick. Anyone can do that.” Ace huffed and broke away from the prince, looking at you with a smirk. “I can show you something super cool. You wanna see?” He asked you, and watched your eyes light up as you gave him a nod.

Malleus watched as Ace rubbed his hands together with a wide and proud smile. When he pulled them away, a massive and colorful bouquet appeared wrapped in a bright red paper. It was full of all of your favorite flowers and even some he had never seen before. Malleus frowned from the other side of you, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ace handed you the flowers and returned his gaze to the Fae. “There’s no trick you can do that I can’t.” Ace challenged the prince, not understanding the weight his words would actually hold. He wasn’t jealous. Especially not with someone like lizard breath. Malleus frowned with his arms crossed over his chest. “I apologize Trappola. Are you offended?” His question was genuine, but to Ace it was an insult. “I wouldn’t be offended by some lame party trick.” This made Malleus’ eyebrow twitch. “So, if I preformed something more grand for the Child of Man… How would you feel?” He asked with a small flick of his wrist. In his hand was a little dancing doll that looked like you. It was starting to annoy Ace. “Don’t you have a statue to talk to?” You looked to Ace, telling him not to be rude as the two of them locked eyes with anger. 

Ace wasn’t jealous. He would never be jealous. At least, he would never admit it. 

Deuce Spade

Deuce trusted you with his entire being! He had no reason to be jealous or possessive. But feelings change... Especially after seeing you and Jack become so close.

Deuce apologized profusely when he told you he had to go to a mandatory track practice after classes ended for the day. You let him know over and over that you didn’t mind going with him and waiting for practice to end. 

He walked onto the track with you beside him, smiling and talking until he heard you gasp. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to get that close.” Jack apologized as he appeared on the other side of you. Deuce was scowling and before he could speak, you explained that you felt something soft brush against your back. Jack has a large tail, but surely he knows that. Deuce looked away with a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make a face.” He laughed away his worry as the three of you talked and both Deuce and Jack made their way to begin practice. Deuce was watching you the whole time, his eyes never leaving you after that moment. Jack seemed to be doing the same. It could be his imagination, but during stretches, during their dashes, and during their breaks, Jack’s eyes seemed to be watching you before he would break his attention elsewhere. It was starting to get dark and it was now the final break of the night before the last round of practice would resume. Deuce made his way over to you before stopping at his gym bag to pull out his track jacket to let you wear. He saw Jack standing in front of you as you stayed seated on the bench. The two of you talking and laughing. 

Seeing Jack’s tail wagging as you smiled up at him… Deuce wasn’t sure why he felt so angry. You were allowed to have friends. You were allowed to talk to other guys that weren’t him. He doesn’t care that much. 

So why did he entertain the idea of punching Jack in the face?

The beastman waved goodbye and walked off leaving you alone on the bench. There would be another hour of practice. Deuce awkwardly approached you with his jacket hanging from his hand. His arm extended as he held it out to you. “I thought you might be cold.” He commented with a small shrug and you accepted gratefully. He watched with a soft sigh as you stood and slipped it on, looking at it with a grin. He zipped his track jacket up to your chin with a weak smile. 

Maybe he is a little jealous. But he shouldn’t care about that kind of stuff. He loves you and you love him.

[sinsirellaxx]

The one time the Rogue Prince tried to get you back

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warning: Darkish Daemon. Not proofread.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

It was right after he had read the letter, which was soon after crumbled up with trembling hands and thrown into the fireplace. Daemon was angry. He was livid – how dare you leave him? And take his daughter with you?

Taking a minute to himself to calm his heart he hurried out of your chambers without wasting another moment. How far did you come? How did you leave Dragonstone? Who had helped you? He’d have to deal with all those questions later. First, he had to find you any his child.

Caraxes soared through the sky, Daemon gripping the dragon's scales tightly. His heart pounded with each beat of the dragon's wings; his mind consumed by thoughts of you – of the betrayal he felt. He wouldn't let you slip away.

He searched every corner of the realm, leaving no stone unturned in his quest to find you. And when he finally caught a glimpse of you in a crowded market square, his eyes lit up – he couldn’t allow any mistakes.

He swooped down from the sky, as soon as he found a clearing, jumping down from Caraxes and pulling his hood over his head as he stomped towards the city, his steps heavy as he did not waste any time.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he pushed his way through the crowd, thanking whatever gods as he saw you with your little daughter in your arms. He swiftly followed you as you made your way through the crowd, his little girl staring dreamily at her mother. The sight would have warmed his heart on any other occasion but instead, it clouded his mind with more darkness as he hardened his gaze. He’d have to be more careful with his little wife now.

He followed you into an inn – you hadn’t turned once to look at your surroundings before walking in and your carelessness worried him deeply. It was further proof that you needed to be taken care of.

As soon as you opened the door to your room, he carefully pushed you into the room, his hand clasped on your lips as he closed the door behind him.

You started screaming into his palm, trying to twist and turn your body to free yourself from his arms, while tightening your grip on your child.

“Shhh, riñītsos. Calm down.” He whispered against your ear as he pressed a harsh kiss onto sensitive kiss underneath his, taking in your scent as he closed his eyes briefly. He felt your body freeze in his arms, his hand slowly falling from your parted lips. It was silent. Until it wasn’t. Your daughter started crying, her little wail ripping through the silence.

Daemon immediately removing his hood before lifting his daughter into his arms, shushing her silently as he softly hummed her favorite lullaby.

“Don’t cry, tala. Kepa is here, you are safe now.” He paced around the room as he swayed the upset little girl in his arms. “You’ll be back home soon – your muña was just a little confused.” Daemon mumbled as he lifted his gaze to glare at your still frozen form. You slowly shook your head when he mentioned home.

“I-I’m not … we’re not comin back.” You finally managed to stutter. Your tongue darting out to moisten your suddenly dry lips. Your husband’s eyes followed the movement, the corner of his lips stretching up into a smirk.

“It is funny you think you have a choice, dear wife.” He looked back down at the little infant, his smirk turning into a soft smile as he noticed his little girl falling asleep in his arms. She must have missed him. His little dragon.

“I will take my daughter home and you will come with – if you don’t, you’ll never see her again.” The prince said, his voice eerily calm as his eyes were still glued to the now sleeping babe.

“You – you can’t do that–“

“I can and I will.” He spat out, his glare back on you. “You dare run away from me with my child?” Daemon had to grit his teeth – it took everything in him to keep the fury boiling in him a bay. You were lucky he was holding your daughter – the only thing that was keeping him from being in your face. But he’ll have his moment with you. He will. “And have the gall to talk back? You will come back with me. You can't run from me, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You and my daughter are mine. There is no place in this world that you can hide in. I won't let you go again."

[weepingwillowwonder]

This is NSFW Hasbin Hotel : Vox & Lucifer (seperately)

Reactions to Shy!Reader with an oral fixation~

CW: Explicit content, cockwarming, dirty talk, some degradation, daddy kink, penetration, finger sucking, praise kink

----

Vox - Is absolutely the type to make you hold his cock in your mouth while he's working...

Despite the door being open at the moment, you hesitantly peek inside and give a soft knock on the door. “What?” He questions sharply, arms crossed, staring ahead at the surveillance footage in front of him. You quietly enter the office, biting your lip in anticipation. Once Vox sees it's you, he sighs in annoyance. “Babydoll…” he drawls. “What are you doing here?” You look down and shift slightly, mumbling some excuse about both Valentino and Velvette being busy…something else about wanting his attention after being alone all morning. 

He considers you for a moment before sitting down and swiveling himself around towards his desk, typing away at his keyboard. “What did I say about coming to my office while I’m working?” he asks. You slowly lift your head up to see him briefly glance over his shoulder before going back to typing. You’re not sure if you should answer that question, hoping that he’ll take your silence for some sort of apology. After all, you knew it was a gamble coming here anyway, especially for something as silly as this. A long pause of silence passes before he asks you the question again, this time more firmly. “What. Did. I. Say?” He fully turns towards you now and you can’t help but think about how attractive he looks in this moment. Arms crossed against his chest, legs spread wide in his office chair. Your voice breaks slightly when you open your mouth to answer, “Y-you said not to…” He slowly nods his head and turns back around. For a moment, his lack of reaction gives you the false hope of getting out of whatever trouble you’ve gotten yourself into. 

As you open your mouth again to try to defend yourself, he cuts you off - “...lock the door and come here.” Your breath starts to quicken slightly and you’re frozen in place at his command. You’re not sure where the courage went that put you in this situation to begin with. Vox continues his work, almost as if this whole encounter wasn’t occurring. What does get your feet scrambling to move is the dangerous sound of his voice when he speaks again. “Don’t make me ask you again.” 

-And now your knees are, oh so bruised, from holding their position under his desk. However, you wouldn’t dare to move, scared of displeasing Vox any further. He would ignore your presence, entirely focused on his work and the task at hand. Maybe if you're lucky, he might absentmindedly stroke the top of your head, giving you some sort of indication that he remembers you're still there. It's only when he starts to get close that he'll grip your hair, roughly thrusting himself in and out of your mouth - "Can't get anything done with you whining about wanting attention.” He’d throw his head back and moan deeply, “always whining about wanting something in your mouth. Such a little slut. This is what you wanted, right? Be good and take it all..."

Lucifer - - You wouldn't tell him you needed it, but as experienced as Lucifer is, he would already know...

He'd have you in his bed, laying on your back like the pillow prince or princess you are. Slowly slipping his cock into you, he firmly holds your hips in place as you unconsciously try to move away from the overwhelming sensation. "Don't run from me..." He softly laughs and smirks down at you, setting a fast pace that hits deeper into you. "You're taking it so well, sweetheart..."

Unable to look him in the eye, you turn your head to the side, thoughtlessly pressing your fingers up to your mouth to cover your moans. You gasp suddenly as he finds that special spot and keeps pressing into you, reveling in your reaction. "So good...so good" He growls out, sliding his hands down your thighs before grabbing the backs of your knees and forcing them to your chest. You whine pathetically as he continues to praise you, his eyes briefly slipping closed, enjoying the feeling of you squeezing around him. When they open, his hips stutter as he glances down at you.

One of your hands weak presses against his chest, not really trying to push him away, but feeling overwhelmed in the moment. The other, however, has your three middle fingers disappeared into your mouth, desperately sucking as you feel yourself getting close. Lucifer curses and spends no time to give you what you need. He maneuvers your legs so they're now wrapped around his waist and takes your free wrists into his hand, pinning it above your head. Your eyes suddenly snap open when you feel him sliding your hand out of your mouth, messy with your own saliva, and replaces it with his own. He bites his lip as you eagerly accept him into your mouth, whining desperately around his fingers. It doesn't take much longer to push you over the edge after that, especially with Lucifer coaxing the orgasm out of you- "...that's it baby, you just needed daddy's fingers right?"

[bettyfrommars]

Video store Eddie? 👀

Mel I'm going to break the rules of this weekend WIP game and just post the whole thing instead of a snippet. It's a very short part 1, and I'm not sure if I'll continue it, but I do love the vibe. I have so many finished WIPs I'm holding onto for whatever reason. @the-unforgivenn was also wondering about this one.

Eddie x older!Reader

This takes place in late 1987 - early 1988, Eddie is...however old he would be, and afab Reader is in their mid 30's. She/they pronouns. Would Steve and Robin still be working at Family Video at that time? Probably not, but I love the idea of visiting them there, infinity. Smut in other parts, if I ever write them.

Word Count: 1.3k

No major warnings but my blog is 18+Only

“Excuse me, do you work here?”

Eddie was squatting down looking through the horror section of Family Video with his butt crack peeking out from the waist of his belted denim when he first heard your voice.

“Sorry,” he sighed as he stood, wallet chain and a set of keys jangling at his hip. Once he saw you, his breath caught, and his brain shifted gears.  “What I meant to say is sorry, it’s my day off but yeah, I work here.  How can I help you?

He ran a flat hand down his chest a few times, eyes darting around to see if Steve or Robin were anywhere near enough to hear it and call him out.  

You weren’t ready for the guy to be so cute when he turned around, or for his eyes to be such a deep velvet brown.  If you had to guess, you'd say he was in his early 20's. Had you ever been that young? If you didn’t have the 1975 Led Zeppelin tour ticket stubs at home as proof, you might’ve believed you’d skipped those years entirely. 

That was the second time you’d spotted him at the video store, and you’d frozen in place, mind flustered to think of some excuse to talk to him.

“I was hoping for an opinion, if you have a second?”

Eddie shuffled around so that, when one of the other two actual employees noticed them, they wouldn’t see who he was talking to right away.

“That’s what I’m here for,” his tongue flicked out to wet his lips before a grin.  “I mean, I do other things around here too, but opinions are sort of my thing.”

You had two tapes in your hand, both new releases, and you held them out to face him.  One was Dirty Dancing, and the other was Evil Dead 2.

“Gun to your head, which one would you choose?”

“Gun to my head? Damn,” he chuckled, rubbing the palm of one hand with his other thumb. “Well, we’re talking about two vastly different films here.  What’s the occasion?”

Shit, you were sexy.  You were beautiful, sure, but it wasn't just that. You made him curious; he wanted to open up the top of your head and see what was inside. You smelled good too, like those spicy essential oil blends they sold at that mystical shop downtown.  The place with all of the incense and gemstones and shit. 

Obviously he’s choosing Evil Dead 2, but he wants to give you the most helpful, educated answer possible.�� Patrick had moves, he’d give him that.  

“If it’s like, a girls night thing, definitely go for Swayze,” he pointed at the vhs.  “But if it’s a date or something, nothing says romance like Ash Willimas with a chainsaw.”

Please say it wasn’t for a date.

“It’s not for a date,” you muttered, looking down at your choices.  You held up Evil Dead 2.  “This is the one I want to watch,” you switched and held up the other. “And this is the one I feel like I should watch because it’s all anyone is talking about.”

Eddie put his hands on his hips authoritatively.  “Well, I think you have your answer.  Have you watched The Lost Boys yet? Prince of Darkness is a bit of a sleeper.  Not sure if that’s your speed but—”

Robin came back to the floor wiping tzatziki sauce from the corners of her mouth.  She saw you talking with Eddie, but knew it was in her job description to give you a proper greeting regardless.

“Hello, welcome to Family Video.  Can I help you find anything today?”

Your gaze flicked from her to him and back again, framed by an awkward silence.

“It’s okay Robs, I’ve got it,” Eddie gave her a thumbs up, hoping she didn’t decide to blow his cover right then and there.  

Robin raised a single brow, watching him suspiciously as she scooted behind the counter.  

“What if you got both? Rent three, get one free,” Eddie reasoned with a shrug.  “It’s Friday, live a little.”

“You’re right,” you cupped both tapes in one hand.  “I watched Lost Boys in the theater when it came out, but maybe I’ll check out Prince of Darkness, if you think it’s good.”

“Hey, me too,” he popped up on the balls of his feet.  “Saw Lost Boys in the theater, I mean.  It was badass.”  He might not have gone on opening day, but for the double date Steve had begged him to go along with. It was a disaster.

Steve’s head shot up from the far corner of the store where he’d been stocking shelves.  “Are you back on the floor?” He asked Robin.  “I need to run to Melvalds.”

She gave Eddie a pointed look when she said, “yeah, we’re fine. You can go.”

Eddie’s fourth movie recommendation was Legend.  “Darkness, my man,” he clapped the cassette to his chest when you said you’d take it, and then led you up to the checkout counter as if he really knew what he was doing.  There were grease smudges on his jeans, and the Bark at the Moon shirt he had on was ripped wide in the arm holes, enough to show his ribs and the lines of a tattoo under there.

You wondered about all of his tattoos, even wished he’d take off his shirt and explain them all to you, but perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself. It was his job to be so attentive with you, he probably wasn't flirting.    

Robin eyed him steadily before giving you her best customer service smile.  “Did you find everything okay?”

“He was a big help,” you put the tapes down on the counter.  “I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Eddie,” he stuck a hand out, the one with all of the metal rings on it. He had calluses on the tips of his fingers and pads of his palm.  “Eddie Munson, at your service.”

“If you work on Sunday when I return them, I’ll let you know how they were.”

“I–I—” he stuttered, sweating under Robin’s stare.  “I don’t work on Sunday, but I should be around, so, yeah.”

“He’s here pretty much every day,” Robin said with a snide edge to her voice as she put the videos in a plastic bag.  It’s true, Eddie had been hanging around an awful lot after work at his actual job slinging wrenches at the garage.  Ever since he’d saved up for a VCR, there were a lot of movies he wanted to catch up on.  

That and he loved being a pest.

After you were out the door, he watched you walk to your car through the window.  You got behind the wheel of a station wagon, and he wondered if maybe you had a family and shit? Kids? You didn’t seem to care about the films you’d chosen being family friendly, but maybe they were away for the weekend? A divorce? Maybe they were at their dads place.

He was thinking way too much about your living situation and relationship status.  

“Okay, mind telling me what that was all about?” Robin put her chin on her fist.  

“She asked me if I worked here and I got nervous and said I did,” he admitted, watching you go until the car was out of sight.  “I wanted to keep talking to her, so I lied.  Now I feel stupid as fuck.”

“You’ll probably never see her again, anyway,” she shrugged.  

“Don’t say that,” he frowned.  

“If she asks about you on Sunday and you’re not here, I’ll just tell her you got fired.”

“You won’t have to, I’ll be here.”

Robin gave a snort.  “You don’t even know what time she’ll come by.  We’re open till—”

“I said I’ll be here,” he stared out into the parking lot space where your car had been, patting the counter with each word.  “Yep, yep, yep, this is where I shall be.”

Robin rolled her eyes so hard they went white.  

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life. 

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. 

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig. 

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job. 

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers. 

Weddings take a while. 

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot. 

Is that laughter? 

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit. 

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there. 

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth. 

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” 

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand. 

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest. 

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush. 

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south. 

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut. 

“...I want to hear it from you.” 

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?” 

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious. 

“You’re dismissed.” 

You are. 

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this. 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back. 

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer. 

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger. 

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it. 

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable. 

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife. 

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier. 

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less. 

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion. 

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library. 

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him. 

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet. 

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti. 

Help her up jackass. 

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him. 

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating. 

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand. 

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours? 

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach. 

He definitely deserves to have you hate him. 

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds. 

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in. 

You’d look nice in the cuffs. 

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron. 

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle. 

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens. 

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down. 

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him. 

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin. 

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face. 

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a. 

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him. 

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again. 

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse. 

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse. 

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist. 

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry. 

And then there’s that dinner. 

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame. 

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay. 

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters. 

So he leaves you your book. 

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do. 

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for. 

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me. 

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it. 

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor. 

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book. 

You can’t be serious. 

This can’t be happening. 

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test? 

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough. 

Keep it innocent. 

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy. 

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off. 

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?” 

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass. 

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers. 

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else. 

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing. 

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you. 

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager. 

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest. 

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning. 

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it. 

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means. 

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes. 

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him. 

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually. 

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband. 

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay. 

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him. 

It’s the longest two hours of his life. 

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small. 

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic. 

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her. 

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then? 

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door. 

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it. 

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real. 

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. 

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words. 

“Do you wanna come in?” 

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man. 

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[randoimago]

Fandom: Hades

Character(s): Zagreus

Note(s): Based off of this prompt: "it’s so cold my mouth is numb, you should kiss me before we get frostbite" from This list

Zagreus is a bit pouty as he gets to the fountain room. Normally, he wouldn't mind a quick dip in the water to wash off, but with his recent boons from Demeter, getting into water sounds like an awful idea.

He never thought he'd be able to become cold. His heat resistance helping quite a bit. But perhaps all the boons from the goddess ended up being too much. He's shivering from the cold.

"Are you alright?" Normally your voice warms him right up, makes him awfully cheerful. And he still tries to give you a smile, but he's shivering.

"Perfectly fine, happy to have this moment of respite amongst my father's temper tantrums," Zagreus quips as he walks a bit closer to you. Even though you're dead, stuck in the fountain chambers to clean and maintain them, he almost feels warmth coming off of you. Or perhaps that's just the excuse he makes to stand closer.

"Are you sure? You're shaking."

"Just the side effects of accepting boons from the gods," Zagreus explains, hoping it calms you a bit. Not that you aren't calm, just concerned. Seeing the worry in your eyes does metaphorically warm him slightly. Physically, he's still shivering.

And then an idea comes to mind. Nothing serious, just mainly him joking. Zagreus debates even mentioning it before shrugging. It's not like you'd agree to it.

"Although, you should probably kiss me. Don't want to be frost bitten," he says nonchalantly, shrugging as if what he just said doesn't matter too much. But while his brain moments ago told him it was a meaningless joke, now he was regretting saying it as well as trying not to look hopeful or nervous about your response.

"Can you even get frostbite?" You ask him and he takes a moment to think. There's a teasing glint in your eyes and he holds back the sigh of relief that you don't look offended by his prior suggestion.

"I'm not sure, but I don't particularly want to find out." He'd feel more guilt if he suddenly died in your chamber and left you to clean up after him. And he doesn't really want to hear whatever "advice" Hypnos would give if he died from being cold.

You chuckle at his response and he's about to give some sort of "good bye" and thanks for letting him rest in the chamber, but you stop him from finding an excuse to leave as you approach him.

Whatever cold he had before feels completely eradicated when your lips touch his cheek. He almost feels a bit hot now. Zagreus stays still, a tad frozen at the kiss you gave him. It's not quite what he had in mind when he had originally made that stupid joke, but he won't ever complain.

You step back and he clears his throat a bit, not wanting to look like a fish with his staring. "Did that help, my prince?" You ask and he might die from combusting instead of frost bite.

"Yeah, warmed me right up. Think I'm ready to take on my father now," Zagreus replies, giving a smile. Not that he's able to help the smile as it seems stuck to his face. "But maybe your chamber will appear again before then?" He doesn't hide the hopefulness this time.

"If the Fates allow it." Of course it comes down to the Fates.

"I'll have a stern talk with their mother if they don't." Your laughter at his comment is enough to warm him up more and he gives you a gentle good bye before he leaves.

He hopes Demeter doesn't become too upset if he keeps using her boons as an excuse for more kisses.

[sky-kiss]

Best Served Cold

A/N: I want the record to show that I love Haarlep. Spoilers for Patch 5.0 Epilogue. Using it for evil. Hiding under a gif. Maybe don't read if you don't like. Sex and violence. Short bit of something.

Haarlep/Durge (GN), Raphael/Durge GN: Best Served Cold (18+)

Oh, the spoils of war are ever so sweet. 

The thought flits through Haarlep’s head, a disconnected spark lost amidst a sea of pleasure. The incubus grips their lover’s hips tighter, fucking up into them as if it’s their last night in Hell. Raphael’s treasured pet comes to take their pleasure from the cambion’s form one last time. Torrid, debauched, and so blessedly delicious. 

I wondered when you’d visit me, my godling, breathed into the hollow of their throat. They’d shivered, eyes widening in wonder and lust—Haarlep’s favorite combination. The incubus bathes themselves in the bhaalspawn’s hunger. You seemed so fond of my little brat. 

“Oh, look at you.” Haarlep breathes. Raphael’s voice, dark and heady, fills the chamber. The bhaalspawn shivers. “Made for his cock, weren’t you? More’s the pity: you were never disappointed by the real thing.” 

They ride him harder, snarling into the frozen air. Haarlep laughs, shifting their touch inward, fingers splayed low on their belly. He likes the contrast of their skin, devil-red against mortal flesh. Haarlep licks their lower lip and thrusts his hips up. There is something so debauched about the way the godling takes him. Furious, punishing, oh, it’s good. Nails bite into his shoulder. The bhaalspawn dips their head, licking the hollow of their throat.

Teeth graze over their pulse. 

And then they bite. 

Haarlep groans, a rush of blood and heat as they break the skin. The bhaalspawn turns their head to the side, hissing into the ruined flesh. There’s pain, but they’ve had far worse during their tenure in Cania. And they still clench around him, move. 

“Mmm, hungry for him, were you?” 

The godling laughs, nosing the underside of his jaw. “No. No, sweetling, that was just for you.” 

They purr, “I’m flattered, pet.” 

“Dreamed of it.” They groan, pushing up and impaling themselves on his cock. Haarlep spreads their legs wider. They want to watch. “Dreamed of this.” 

The incubus chuckles, rocking. “And is it everything you desire?”

“Almost.” They tip their head back, mouth falling open in rapture. “Raphael!” 

Haarlep hisses, pushing up under them. “No. No, pet, you call my name.” 

The godling laughs, rolling their hips. “Raphael.” 

Any response dies on the incubus' tongue. The voice is as familiar as breathing, so much a part of them after centuries of life. Haarlep’s blood runs cold. “You called, little mouse?” 

Haarlep thrashes, suddenly needing to get free, get out. Raphael is there. A mangled reflection of himself, but still alive. His left eye is milky, flesh badly burned and scarred. The right corner of his mouth curls up in a sneer. The godling clenches around them, moaning.

“Oh, Haarlep. Whatever’s the matter? You were so keen on using my form before.” 

The bhaalspawn’s grip is more sure than death itself, tearing through the flesh, leaving long stripes of blood across his pecs. Haarlep hisses, pitches, gets no further. They try to speak, but the damned creature kisses them, swallowing the words along with their air. Raphael closes the distance between them, hands clasped at the small of his back. Dispassionate. The once prince strokes a hand down the godling’s back. 

Fear settles low in the incubus’ belly, coiling alongside the rush of pleasure. So close to the end. A feverish weight at the base of their spine. 

Raphael strokes Haarlep's cheek. His one good eye narrows. 

“Once upon a time, you left me to our little beast…” the bhaalspawn groans, reaching out to fist a hand in Raphael’s robe. “...and I am a cyclical creature. An eye for an eye, hmm? Only fair I return the favor.” 

“Raphael…” They choke out his name, vision blurring. The godling’s teeth are back at their throat, biting, tearing. Haarlep tries to catch their hands, but they are brutally strong. 

Their little brat chuckles, bending and pressing a chaste kiss to their mouth. “Adieu, darling. It’s been…unforgettable.” 

And Haarlep screams. 

[violettduchess]

Ahh, could I request Matthias with “I grew up on a farm” or “Use me”? Or whatever you feel like! 🙏❤️

A/N: In honor of his birthday today, here is your request anon!

Making such a proper character into a country boy wasn't easy until I found a way to connect the prompt "I Grew Up on a Farm" with Matthias's pride in Achroite.

Modern Country AU, Matthias x Reader

Entry for @candied-boys Country Radio CC

WC: 1.2k

The high-rise buildings of your city glisten with the reflection of a thousand neon lights. They flaunt the reds and pinks and yellows like fashionistas on a runway. Far below, the cars drive, resembling little lightning bugs, their bright, white headlights guiding them along the road to their destinations. The sky above is a gray mass of clouds, blanched and ubiquitous. The night's starlight has no chance against the blinding glow of the city and when it is visible, the moon is only a pale shadow of herself, like a copy made too many times.

Matthias is standing on the balcony of your small apartment, leaning on the railing. His strong hands curl around the cool metal, broad shoulders slumped forward. Slipping his hoodie over your thin nightgown, you step outside and join him. The sounds of the city that never sleeps greets you, a familiar song that has accompanied your nights since you were young.

You wrap your arms around him from behind. Feeling you hug him brings a tenuous smile to his lips and he places his hands over yours, holding you there, a silent plea to not let go. Your head falls forward to rest against his broad back and you breathe in the scent of him, cool and crisp and clean. It reminds you of snow-capped mountains, of winter’s first kiss, of a lake frozen over, diamond-like and dazzling in the pale December sun.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His exhale is heavy. It courses through his body, dragging the weight of his tangled emotions with it. They feel like chains around his heart, fetters that tighten with every beat.

“Hey....” 

Your voice sharpens with concern as you let go and move so that you can see him. His noble face, the one you tease him about and say looks like a fairy tale prince, is shadowed by something that dampens the soft gray of his eyes, pulls down the corners of his handsome mouth. “Matthias?”

He hesitates and your stomach twists. Something is definitely wrong.

He touches his forehead, frowning, as if willing the thoughts to find the way out of his mind. “This may sound silly. I’m not a child but...” His voice sounds tight, wound with the fear of what may happen when he gives his thoughts life. “I....I miss home.”

You step back, away from him.

His gaze is pleading, heartbreakingly sad. “I know I said I would try. For us. I know your life is here and I thought I would manage. But darling....” His voice breaks on the word and he has to take a moment to regain control. “Darling, I am not made for this place.” He gestures towards the city, now behind him. “I miss the mountains. And the Achroite ranch. The people.” He sinks down onto the chair in the corner of the balcony, his tall body folding like a demolitioned building. “And I’m selfish for it, I know. I promised you. And yet.....” He runs a hand through his short, blond hair. “I can’t....be truly happy here.” Anguished he looks up at you, expecting to see the betrayal written in your expression, hurt shining in your eyes. 

Instead what he sees is something softer, something gentle.

Carefully you cross the small balcony to where he is sitting on the plastic folding chair and reach for him, dropping down onto his lap, knowing from experience the little chair is mighty enough to hold you both. He watches you closely, brows knit in a frown, but he wraps his strong arms around you, almost hesitantly.

Reaching up, you cup his cheek. “I know.”

“You do?”

For a man so intelligent he could be so dense.

You nod, running your thumb over his chin, a gesture familiar and loving. “The minute we left the ranch it was like your glow was slowly fading, a little every day. And I wanted to believe I could be enough to keep it alight. I thought if I could do that, your decision to return with the crazy tourist from the big city who wanted a dude ranch experience and got so much more wouldn’t turn into the biggest regret of your life–”

He hugs you to him tightly, shaking his head as he buries his face in your shoulder. “No, not possible.”

Gently you lift his head so you can look into his eyes. “You love me. I know you do. But you don’t love it here. And so this, here,.....it won’t work.”

The storm breaks in the gray of his gaze. He closes his eyes, fighting back the flood that is breaking his heart and drowning its pieces.

“Which is why we have to leave ‘here’....and go....” Your palm rests against his heart. “Where this is.”

Tears shine like raindrops in the sun when he opens his eyes again, disbelieving.

“What?” It’s a whisper, a prayer in the wind.

“I could never be happy seeing you this way, so far from that place that is in every heartbeat, in every shadow of your thoughts.” You hold his gaze as you speak the words that have been written on your heart for some time now. “ I fell in love with the man with the wide smile who showed me the mountains at sunrise, who shows the same consideration to everyone, from the boy who mucks the stables to the mayor of the town. The one who took me for long rides through the hills and showed me the pond where he learned to swim, the tree he fell from and broke his arm.” You smile, stroking his cheek. “I want that Matthias back and I think the only way I can find him is to bring him back to the land he loves....and if he’ll have me, join him there.”

“Are you sure?” The words are tremulous, restrained. “I couldn’t ask you to leave the city if it would make you miserable. I couldn’t put you through-“

“Screw the city. It was never that great anyway.” Your forehead touches his, your hands cradle his face. “I didn’t grow up feeling like you did. Like this place is a piece of me. What I do know.....is wherever you go, that’s home. To the mountains, to the moon. I don’t care. All I need is you.”

His words are barely audible. “But we came back here because of your job....you didn’t want to give it up. I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know you wouldn’t. And that’s why I am doing it voluntarily.” You lean back and there is nothing but warmth in your heart. “A ranch like yours always needs some extra hands, right? And I’m sure you can teach me.”

“You’re sure?”

There is not a single spark of hesitation in your answer. “Yes.”

“Truly?”

“Matthias!”

Relief like a river rushes through him and he can only stare in awe at you, the brightest sun in his sky. “I love you.”

You don’t reply with words. Instead you lean forward and kiss him, an answer, a testament to a love as bright and endless as the Western sky.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia

@wendolrea @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody

@whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine

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@themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (XIII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Sixth year comes to a close. Y/N and Harry sport new badges of trauma. Fleur and Bill get married.

Part XII / Part XIV / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: chapter wc: 6.3k. Enjoy. I really miss Regulus *cry*

Time bears no meaning to one unseeing and unfeeling, one who endlessly sinks into a void. You’ve read the papers and the theories: an observer outside of a black hole would think that time has frozen, while those falling into the black hole would appear to be frozen to those watching. 

Perhaps, you were falling through a black hole. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been laying in the medical wing, eyes puffy, pillow damp with tears, but you can only pity whoever it was that sat with you the entire time. The first memory you could recall of waking up in the medical wing seemed so distant, but you knew it had likely only been a few days since then. 

Nothing seemed to register in your mind throughout those days, not that you cared all that much. You would simply peel your eyes open, silently shed tears, ignore whoever was whispering in your ear, ignore Madam Pomfrey’s fussing, go back to sleep, and repeat. 

Every time you awoke, you desperately hoped that the events that kept replaying in your head had been nothing but a terrible, prolonged nightmare. But the emptiness in your pocket weighed on your chest and hollowed out your heart. 

Every time you opened your eyes to see the familiar beige, arched ceilings and bright latticed windows, you wanted to sink through the bed and fall into an abyss that matched the chasm in your chest . 

Regulus’ voice kept ringing in your ears, making your head ache with sharp stabs behind your eyes, ‘I’ll find you again, my love.’ You wanted to laugh. His last words to you were futile promises, yet you still wanted nothing more than to believe them. 

You were positive that you would drive yourself into madness.

You decide to start listening to the voice that would always emit from beside you, half expecting it to be a figment of your imagination. Even so, you hoped that it could provide solace, if not a distraction from your mental spiral.

The more you listened, the more your senses began to clear – and you realized you couldn’t spend forever wallowing in your misery. Surprisingly, it was not just one person that visited you. From what you could discern, it was three different people that would seemingly take turns talking to you. 

“Mother and I are concerned for you, amico mio. Draco hasn’t been back since that night, same with Professor Snape. The term is going to end soon, and Aurors have been hassling Potter for answers. They’re leaving you alone for now because you’ve been unresponsive, but the press and Ministry are waiting for your eyewitness account. If you don’t get better soon…They want to send you to St.Mungo’s for monitoring, but mother volunteered to house you instead. I have to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Rest well, Y/N.” 

Blaise.

It seemed that Dumbledore was dead then. There was no other reason why the Ministry would be so eager to question you. Two people died that night, three if you counted whatever part of yourself was missing now – but only Dumbledore would be memorialized. 

You felt your heart race at the thought, but you tried to ground yourself by remembering Blaise’s words. At least you knew that the Contessa was willing to take you in. The thought sent a warm buzz down your navel. You wouldn’t be alone. 

“It was Professor Snape. It all happened so fast. After he shot the spell and Dumbledore … Draco was going to stay with you, but then they shot off the dark mark into the sky. And Snape, he-he … he’s the Half-Blood Prince. He killed him. Dumbledore trusted him, and he killed him. I don’t know where the locket is either. To think of what it took – what it cost us, and I lost the bloody thing.” 

Harry. 

Even in your state, you could feel Harry’s turmoil – his rage. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reflect the same sentiments, things were always more convoluted than they seemed, especially for your lot. You did feel remorseful about the locket though, realizing the damn thing was still looped around your neck (even if it were a sham). 

You don’t know what exactly happened that night in the astronomy tower after you blacked out, just that Snape finished the job and escaped with the rest of the death eaters, but you assumed that Harry was secretly wounded by the professor’s betrayal. 

No matter how vehemently he denies it, you could tell Harry did care for Snape in his own weird, unconventional way. You shared a similar sentiment, feeling a tinge of understanding toward the disillusioned man. That was why you held onto hope that Snape was truly not a traitor, but only time would tell. 

You were taken aback to hear that Draco tried to stay with you, but perhaps your strange encounters with each other and your initiative to try and help him – even while he aimed his wand at you – made him feel indebted. 

“The wrackspurts are beginning to leave, they were hovering around you for a long time. You will be okay, he waits as he always has. You must not give up.” 

Luna.

Luna was a comforting presence. She never bombarded you or urged you to recover quicker, and oftentimes you could feel her gently playing with your hand. You always looked forward to hearing her the most. Her reassurances sparked hope in you, especially since you believed that she was clairvoyant. 

Things did get better, eventually. 

You awoke on the second to last day of term with aching joints and stiff muscles. The world seemed to gleam with a new vibrance under the July sky, and it helped that Blaise nearly tipped out of his seat when you abruptly sat up on the bed. 

“Is that any way to greet me, B? How uncouth.” Your scratchy voice did little to deter the boy who merely threw his arm over your shoulder. 

After a few moments of silent greetings, you pull back and pat the boy gently on the shoulder, wanting room to stretch your arms. 

Blaise moves over to sit at the foot of your bed, hands digging into his robes, “Glad to have you back. You gave me quite the fright, you know?” The boy shoots a pointed look at you, “I thought you were dead when I found you that night.” 

“So it was you?” Your words are more to yourself than anything, but the Italian nods firmly. 

“Mio dio, here we are.” The boy fishes something out of his pocket, and extends his palm towards you, “Thought you would want this.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest as you reach over. 

Regulus’ frame. 

“Thank you.” The lump in your throat makes it difficult to say much more, but the gratitude that bleeds into your words has Blaise tilting his head. Of course, your friend didn’t quite grasp how important the tattered pieces of wood were to you, but you were touched nonetheless. 

Thank Merlin for his scavenging tendencies. 

“Prego. Now, are you feeling well enough to get up? You should start packing soon.” 

“Nevermind, just kill me now.” Blaise, the traitor, laughs at your misery much to your chagrin. 

The last two days at Hogwarts are filled with suppressed grief and reassuring smiles, with many approaching you to make sure you didn’t sustain any permanent damage from the encounter with Bellatrix (you were quite sure Neville even promised retribution). 

You’re decidedly silent about the main events of being manhandled by Greyback, tired from the tirade of questions and also unsure if the prospect would have your friends flying off their handles.

As the Hogwarts Express came to a halt at King’s Cross, you dismissed yourself from the Trio’s compartment and levitated your items with you to locate Blaise. The slytherin was adamant that you say your farewells to him, already dissatisfied with your decision to stay elsewhere for the summer. 

Peering into one of the compartments, you catch Blaise’s eye and wave slowly. The boy stands and slides the door open for you, grinning at your unimpressed frown, “You made it!” 

“Yes, I didn’t want you to brood the entire summer. Merlin knows I barely agreed to have tea with you and the Contessa anyway.” Your indignant response elicits a few snickers from behind Blaise, and the Italian spins around with an expression of mock offense. 

“Traitors, all of you.” 

You peer over Blaise’s shoulder and meet the curious stares of some of the other slytherins in your year, though Draco was notably absent.

Pansy appraises you quickly before grinning, “Well met, L/N. Blaise said you were much better than your other friends.” 

You let out a dry laugh, but nod in greeting. Scanning the opposite bench, an exasperated set of eyes cuts through you. The boy inclines his head, causing you to do the same. You were already familiar with Theodore Nott, having quite literally clashed with him over the top position in your Runes class (which somehow led to you both studying together in silence?). 

“Y/N, any summer plans?” You lean against the doorframe and wave at Daphne, ignoring Blaise’s huff. 

“Hi Daphne, and just a few things here and there. Mainly just looking forward to spending time with my dogs.” Which was not totally a lie, both Remus and Sirius were part time dogs of sorts. 

Blaise crosses his arms and shakes his head, “Yes, a summer with some pets over one with me.” 

Continuing to ignore the boy next to you, you crack your knuckles and smile apologetically, “It’s nice to see you all. But apologies, I must get going, one of my dogs gets a bit restless.” You wave to the group and quickly pat Blaise on the back before quickly ducking out of the train. 

As you walk through the platform, you barely flinch when Harry sidles up to you with his own luggage. 

“Harry, come to Grimmauld Place after it’s all done.” The boy shifts his head to look at you, eyebrow raised to indicate that he would have done so even without the reminder. Rolling your eyes, you adjust the collar of your shirt before quickly pulling out the locket long enough for the boy to see. 

Harry’s mouth sets into a firm line and he nods, “Alright. It shouldn’t take more than a few days.” His firm tone indicated that he expected an explanation from you, but you could see that he was refraining from being too direct, having already expressed guilt for what happened to Regulus. 

Harry and Hermione informed you that they would be taking certain measures to protect their respective families, and you winced at the implications – more so feeling commiseration for Hermione than Harry, knowing that the girl’s parents actually valued her. 

As Sirius and Remus come into view – Sirius in his Grim form, Harry rushes away and lunges into Remus’ awaiting arms. Sirius trots over to you in greeting and you have to restrain yourself from petting him, knowing it would be awkward to face the man after he transforms back. 

Crouching down, you smile at the dog-man and barely duck fast enough to miss his attempt at licking you. It would appear that he was forgoing formalities and was jumping straight into licking and pawing at you and Harry – you admit, that it made his disguise all the more convincing. 

“Okay, enough you old menace!” You bat at him, causing him to huff at you, still rounding around you to nudge at your leg. 

Harry reluctantly leaves as he spots his Uncle Vernon, reaching down to squeeze your wrist in comfort one last time. As soon as you double-check your items and greet Remus, you all are off in a hurry to get to Grimmauld Place, not feeling comfortable being out in the open for a prolonged period of time. 

The journey back is spent in silence as you pointedly ignore Sirius’ looks of concern and Remus’ more subtle glances. 

The first few days back at the gloomy house are interesting to say the least. Both of the adults were almost diffident towards you, clearly unsure of how to breach the subject of their concerns without immediately spiraling into an interrogation. 

You try and wait it out the first few days, and soon Harry is joining you with a pleased smile, regaling you with how Dudley had made amends with him before the Dursleys all packed up and left. Despite Harry’s arrival, Sirius and Remus continued to edge around you both much to Harry’s confusion. 

The awkward atmosphere gives you and Harry time to convene in your room, both sitting around the decoy locket. As you peer down onto your bed at the glimmering piece of jewelry, you feel your lips twist in forbearance. 

Harry scoops it up and examines it in the light before sighing, “Yeah. This isn’t the real thing, I would be able to feel it if it were.” Narrowing his eyes further, he tugs at the locket’s sides and pulls. 

The locket abruptly pops open and you and Harry share a look that pretty much conveyed the ‘shit that actually worked’ thought that flew through both of your heads. 

You’d think there would be more security measures even with a sham. 

Placing it back down onto the bed, you tilt your head at the slip of paper that revealed itself inside. Harry slowly picks it up and unfurls it, frowning at the contents, 

“To the Dark Lord, 

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. 

R.A.B” 

“Regulus,” Your gasp is followed by a devastating realization that has you shuddering. Harry looks up at you with a worried frown, patting your knee before handing the paper to you. As you gently cup the paper in your hands, you reread the message several times. 

“He died to try and stop him.” Harry’s words are not a question, but rather a declaration of crushing recognition. He looks over to your hunched figure and cups his hand around yours, nodding firmly, “Keep it.” 

Not bothering to retort that you were planning on doing so even if you had to wrangle it from him, you simply nod and carefully fold the note up and place it back inside the locket. As you carefully click the pendant shut and move the necklace back over your head, Harry turns towards the empty space near your door, “Kreacher!” 

A loud pop emits throughout the room and you slowly turn to face the house elf, “Yes, Master Harry called for Kreacher?” 

Harry swallows harshly, “Did Regulus ever talk about a locket that belonged to Voldemort?” 

Kreacher flinches back and alternates between sneering at Harry and frowning at you, “Kreacher doesn’t know anything about a locket.” 

You rise up from the bed and slowly walk towards the cowering house elf, squatting down to appear less intimidating, “Kreacher. Regulus, he…he wanted–wants us to destroy it. Please.” You hoped that Kreacher didn’t register your slip up, not wanting to explain that his favorite master was blown to bits by an insane witch. 

Seeming to weigh his options, Kreacher darts his eyes around the floor before meeting your gaze, “Kreacher will find it.” Not a moment later, the elf pops away and you’re left with your thoughts and achy knees. 

As you stretch back up, Harry shoots you a grateful look before sighing, “We should talk to Sirius about the locket at the very least. Maybe he’ll let us look around and we can figure out what else Regulus knew.” 

You don’t have a chance to answer as Kreacher pops back into the room, hands clasped tightly around the real locket, extending his hand away from his face to keep the artifact as far away from him as possible. 

“Thank you, Kreacher.” The elf merely grunts at Harry’s words and practically shoves the locket into his hands when the boy gets close enough to reach it. 

You nod and smile at the elf, feeling a twinge of guilt when he pops away without another word. It seemed that Kreacher had an idea of what happened to Regulus, and he was definitely not happy with you and Harry by any stretch of the imagination. 

Harry fiddles with the item before huffing, “Hello again, Tom.” 

Rubbing your forehead tiredly, you leave your friend to his musings and opt to find Sirius, deciding to rip the bandaid off sooner than later. 

Surprisingly, the man barely bats an eye at your bizarre request, “Sure, go ahead. I don’t think you’ll find much more than old books though.” 

Nodding with wide eyes, you try to rein in your gobsmacked expression, “Uh–yeah, thanks,” and with one last boost of confidence, you decide to pat the man’s shoulder, “And really, thanks for the concern. Harry and I are fine though, so you guys don’t have to keep walking around eggshells when we’re in the same room.” 

Not giving time for the man to respond, you practically fly up the stairs and towards Regulus’ bedroom. Hit with a sense of deja vu, you only pause to take everything in once you crack open the bedroom door. 

So many memories. 

But he’s not here anymore.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest, you slowly shuffle into the dark room and shut the door behind you. Spinning around on the spot, you take in every detail around you, determined to commit it to memory – for what reason, you didn’t really know. You wander around in circles for a while, slowly working up the courage to actually look around for something useful. 

It felt wrong to go through his possessions without his knowledge or expressed permission. 

Crouching down next to the dusty bed, you trace your finger around the design of the bedding. 

The design scheme of Regulus’ room was far more subdued in comparison to the rest of the house’s gaudy antiques and brassy accents, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he would have decorated a house of his own.

Brushing away the thought, you pause your movements when your finger hits a protrusion under the mattress. Furrowing your eyebrows, you slowly lift up the quilt bedding.

Please be spider-free. If a spider lunges at me, I will actually die. 

Your prayers are, thankfully, taken into account. As you peer at the object, you realize that it was a worn leather journal shoved haphazardly between the two mattresses – how neat. You wrestle the book out with far more effort than it should have taken, and breathlessly sit down on the floor. 

Flipping the object in your hands, you run your finger along the creased cover. 

Just as you lay the book in your lap to flip it open, you’re distracted by the sound of the door creaking open. Harry slowly slinks inside the room and shoots you a quick smile, “Sirius is being weird. Like strange. Something about therapy and teenagers?” You merely raise your eyebrow as Harry moves to sit beside you, the boy’s eyes immediately falling to your lap, “What’s that?” 

“No clue. What about the locket? Figured out how we’re going to destroy it?” 

Harry rolls his eyes before fishing out the necklace and dangling it from his hand like it wasn’t a precious heirloom (even if it were tainted by a sadistic, egomaniac’s soul shard). 

“No clue,” Harry intones, laughing at your narrowed eyes. You roll your eyes before shoving him lightly, deciding to tuck the journal away by your side before getting up to wander around the room again. 

Your search around Regulus’ room continues for the next few days, but ends up fruitless. 

July passed quickly, taking the sunny days away with it. The journal that you found was shrunken and bouncing around in your pocket, remaining untouched. You couldn’t explain it, but it didn’t feel right to read it just yet. 

Was Luna’s clairvoyance rubbing off on you? 

The thought had you smiling softly, causing Remus to share a look with Sirius that you barely caught. 

“You doing okay there, pup?” Sirius asked, reaching over to pat your arm. 

“Never better, old man. Also, pup?” Your question hangs in the air and Remus merely shakes his head before craning back down to read his book. Sirius smiles brightly at you, “Yep.” 

“Never a dull moment around here. Forget my Runes study, maybe I should become a mind healer and have you as my case study.” You tease, much to Harry and Remus’ amusement.

You wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but you had sorely missed the comfort of summers with Sirius. 

Actually, you wanted to rescind that statement. 

“You absolute troll of a man!” Your words echo throughout the house as Sirius’ laughter draws the attention of the other two men. 

Remus shoots Sirius an exasperated look, while Harry spins around in his seat to try and see what was happening. You emerge into the room, heaving from anger, hand clasped tightly around a soggy potions book. 

“I am going to wreak havoc upon your bloodline, Black! Beg now or wrath shall hath no mercy for your foolishness.” Your wild gesticulation and fury has Remus raising an eyebrow towards Sirius who simply shoots his friend an innocent smile. 

The absolute oaf then turns and sticks his tongue out at you. 

“Do it! I dare you! You wouldn’t–” 

You throw the wet tome at his head. 

“Remmy! Look what’s become of my beautiful face!” Sirius whines and bangs his elbows on the table, drawing the attention of one stressed out Mrs.Weasley. The woman shoots a withering look at the man before returning to fuss over a particularly wild table arrangement. 

Remus simply shakes his head and resumes surveying the venue, studiously ignoring the man next to him (who was now sporting a large bump on his head that he refused to heal in order to show everyone the result of your “demonic mood swings”). 

You smile tauntingly at the older man before standing up to walk around. It was insane to you how drastically different you were feeling now in comparison to at the beginning of your summer break. The aching in your heart never fully ceased, but you were back up on your feet and even allowing yourself to indulge in Sirius’ antics. 

The world truly was coming to an end, wasn’t it? 

Guiltily, you found yourself remedying your heart ache by sneaking into Regulus’ bedroom at night. It inexplicably brought you closure to see what was left of the teen’s bedroom. 

August emerged from the corners of the sky with temperamental winds and blue, misty dawns. Bill and Fleur had decided to commence the month with a rather extravagant wedding, having sent out your personal invites weeks before. The venue was at the Burrow, but was simply breathtaking: the ivory tent was propped up by poles that were encircled with plethoras of cream flowers, and the dainty chairs lined with gold were eye-catching without being tawdry. 

Gold. 

You wince as you reach into your jacket, feeling the scraps of Regulus’ gold frame brush against your fingertips. 

It seemed you weren’t the only one plagued with grief and foreboding though. Many were expecting for Voldemort to make his next move any day now, which was one of the many reasons as to why Bill and Fleur decided to rush their union. 

The political climate was tense as well, wracked with uncertainties after the death of Dumbledore. Ex-Auror, now instated Minister of Magic, Scrimegeour was trying his best, but he was rough around the edges and had the charisma of an angry goblin. 

Still, you were one of the many who preferred him over Fudge. 

In light of all this, you made a greater effort to get to know Contessa Zabini, knowing that your channels for information were more restricted than ever, and who better to turn to than an all-powerful, neutral femme fatale? 

Corresponding with Blaise and Luna kept you sane throughout the summer since you refrained from trauma dumping on Harry (á la therapy, knowing the boy was literally the embodiment of “what are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine”).  

“Hey, pup.” You spin around to see Sirius approaching you with his hands in his pockets, mouth curled up amiably. 

Suspiciously raising a brow, you cross your arms, “If you pull something on me right now, Bill is going to be left wondering why there’s an empty chair at our table. Spoiler alert, your chair, not mine.” 

The man chuckles at your playful (kind of) threat, and simply hands you a folded paper, “Thought you’d want it. Still not sorry about your book though.” 

Shaking your head, you gently grasp the slip and raise your eyes in uncertainty when you realize it was a folded photo. Sirius gestures for you to unfold it, eyes gleaming brightly with a shine you could hardly decipher. 

As you bring the photo up towards your eyes, you gape as you realize what you were looking at. 

“Sirius, what?--” Why was he giving you a photo of Regulus? What did he know?

“I don’t know what’s up with you and Prongslet and your fascination with Regulus, but I’m not completely oblivious.” He jabs, smiling widely at your disbelief. 

Debatable, really. 

You sigh and hug the photo to your chest, “I promise, I’ll tell you everything when this all blows over. Thank you though.” 

The man shrugs and gives you a brief side hug, “I’ll take your word for it.” 

As soon as you see his mischievous smile disappear behind the milling Weasley family, you decide to study the photo again. 

Regulus looked a bit younger than he had in his portrait, hair a tad shorter and eyes sparkling with a youthful glow. Clearly, Regulus hadn’t been marked when this photo was taken, but he still looked like a dutiful, proper pureblood heir. 

He looked perfect. 

You were going to rip Bellatrix to shreds.

Yes. You would have the banshee screeching at your feet, begging for the release of death. 

Sorry Neville, she’s mine to kill.

“Heya-” 

“Y/N!” 

You quickly fold up the photo and tuck it into your pocket, shooting your head up to meet the eyes of the twins. Smiling at their antics, you tip an invisible hat to them, “Messrs Twins, how are you today? Excited to see Bill in his suit?”

George offers you his arm as he gestures outside of the tent, “Doing just dandy, Y/N!” 

“Yes, Bill was able to weasel his way out of mother’s claws,” Seeing your confused expression, Fred continues, “She wanted him to wear father’s wedding robes.” 

Snickering at the idea, you allow George to continue dragging you, “How frightful. You both might not be as lucky though. Merlin knows Charlie’s muscles would suffocate in those robes, you two on the other hand…” 

“Ouch!” 

“My poor heart!” 

Your banter continues until the twins manage to parade you through the Burrow’s living room, dropping you off with mock bows, “It’s been our pleasure!” 

As soon as they’re off and running to Merlin knows where, you turn around to meet the unimpressed face of Minister Scrimgeour. Harry, Hermione, and Ron emerge from the kitchen and meet your questioning eyes, looking just as puzzled by his appearance. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Minister?” Harry asks, ever the diplomat. 

You smile wearily, shifting closer to your friends, “Yes, don’t suppose you’re here for the treacle tarts?” 

The scraggy man shakes his firmly, mouth deepening in its frown, “Unfortunately not. I think we both know the answer to your question though, Mr.Potter.”

Clenching your jaw, you make way to sit on the couch, gesturing for the Minister to sit across the coffee table. Your friends quickly follow your movements, fidgeting quietly as the man limps over and settles down with a huff. 

He wastes no time and sets down a folded cloth on the table, leaning on his knees to meet your awaiting gazes. Before any of you have time to question him, he reaches deep into his coat and whips out a folded piece of paper. 

The yellowed parchment floats to the side and unfolds itself as Scrimegeour shoots you all an assured look before reading off of it, “Herein is set forth the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore-” Holy shit, “-First, Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my deluminator…” 

You zone out, only vaguely aware of how Scrimgeour reaches down to unwrap the cloth. Harry shifts uncomfortably beside you and you’re quick to pick up on his grief. He was still in the process of accepting the headmaster’s death. 

Frankly, you were amazed you were left in the will. 

Hermione receives a children’s book (not cryptic at all). 

Harry receives the snitch he caught in your first year, which was quite unexpected seeing as your friend was pretty much carrying the weight of the Wizarding World on his back. It seemed that he thought the same as he reluctantly reached over to accept it, rolling the golden ball around his palm. 

A snitch, really? Couldn’t he have left a detailed instruction manual on how to slay Voldemort? Not like your lot isn’t elbow-deep in resuscitating Wizarding Britain or anything.  

Your attention is drawn away from Harry’s despondent face when a paper is being shoved towards you. 

What was this, the second time today?

Masking your bemusement, you reach over and take it from the man’s hand, quickly glancing at your friends. 

‘There is a wonderful municipality in Moskenesøya, Norway called Reine. Anders Fiske owes me a meal of which I pass to you. You may find great enlightenment on your troubles with him. He has knowledge of magic which your young companion utilized.’ 

Slowly looking up at the other occupants of the room, you don’t let your surprise show. 

“Well?” Ron asks impatiently, clearly intrigued that Dumbledore left you an actual written message. 

“A meal. He left me a meal ticket.” 

Minister Scrimgeour leaves shortly after, mumbling something about endless paperwork and efforts to suppress the growing dark forces. You were quick to part from your friends, falling into thought about how you were going to heed your former headmaster’s words. 

As you mill around the tent, eyes glued to the purple carpet under your feet, you’re pleasantly surprised when you accidentally bump into a familiar face. 

“Luna!” 

The girl spins around and looks at you dazedly, mouth tugging into a wide grin, “Y/N! The heliopaths burn brightly around you. Have you gotten the clue, then?” 

Gazing fondly at the younger girl, you wrap an arm around her and guide her near a vacant table, “I’m not even surprised. Did you see this coming?” 

“There were whispers that Dumbledore would aid you. Our paths are now converging…” Luna trails off, but you understand the gist of her words. It would appear that she was going to help you in some way, and you were quite pleased with the turn of events. 

Soon, dusk blanketed over the fields and the inky skies loomed over the tent, giving life to the vibrant lights and the guests who were resplendent in their formal attires. 

Sheer curtains fell around the tent in waves of dusty purple, slightly veiling the patrolling Aurors from sight. Sirius had to be put under multiple glamours much to his ire, but he conceded after being told it was either that or partying as a dog the whole night. 

The man was currently nestling a glass of firewhiskey to his chest by your side, occasionally glancing at Luna who was spinning in circles on your other side. Remus had decided to help patrol, and you rolled your eyes at his wallflower tendencies, picking up the unspoken “babysitting Sirius” duties in his stead. 

Bill and Fleur were dancing around at the center of the tent, surrounded by their immediate families and you were entranced by the dozens of pink butterflies that encircled the couple. 

How were they doing that?

Well, they did make for quite the attractive pair, and you were just grateful for the lack of drama throughout the evening. Though, you would be making a grand escape at the first hint of drunken stupors and incoherent babbling. 

Turning to the entrance of the tent, you smile softly as you see Harry make his way inside, slowly approaching an older man who was peering at the clapping guests with poorly concealed anxiety. 

Before you can further goggle at the boy’s movements, a sheen of yellow hues suddenly bombards your eyes and casts a shadow over your figure. Looking up, you’re struck at the sight of a familiar dazed expression. 

“Hello, Xenophilius Lovegood,” The man sticks out his hand for you to take, and you see Luna sway happily towards the man, “A pleasure, Mr.Lovegood. I’ve always enjoyed meeting my friends’ families. I’m Y/N.” 

“My Luna speaks very highly of you, and if you or Mr.Potter ever need anything, feel free to come to us. We live just over the hill, you see.” The man muses pleasantly, wrapping an arm around his daughter as she nods in agreement. 

You speak to the man for a few more minutes before he dismisses himself to find Harry, explaining that he would very much enjoy talking about The Quibbler with the boy. 

At the man’s departure, you begin to try and drag Sirius onto the dance floor, but he simply complains that the music wasn’t really his style and chugs his drink. 

There did seem to be a lack of electric guitar riffs in the air. 

Rings of gasps and shuffles draw your attention away from your two companions, and you look towards the center of the tent to see an illumination of blue floating in place of the once dancing couple. 

A patronus. 

Immediately, Shacklebolt’s resounding voice echoes around the venue, “The Ministry has fallen. The Minister of Magic is dead…they are coming…” Scrimgeour was dead? You just saw the bloody man!

“They are coming…” 

The tense silence has you stepping forward and drawing your wand, sharing a look with an alarmed Sirius who was slowly edging in front of you. 

“They are coming…”

As the patronus dissipates, the panic that had been stewing erupts into cacophonous shouts and echoing distortions of apparition. Many guests flee just as the first cluster of black smoke swoops through the tent. 

Death eaters. 

Grabbing Sirius’ wrist, you quickly try to shout over the chaos, “Stay safe! You and Remus better not die!” 

The man nods firmly, but gets pulled away into the moving crowd as people begin to make a break for it just as the first spells start flying around. Twirling your wand into your palm, you turn and grab Luna’s hand, pulling her behind you as you duck through the mayhem.

You see rays of green soar across the tent as flames begin to engulf the flowers and curtains. Blocking a killing curse from flying straight into your face, you quickly shoot out a Confringo and a binding spell back to back, effectively binding your attacker as he tries to duck. 

Spinning around frantically, ignoring the blood rushing through your ears and the thrumming of your heart beat in your fingertips, you see Hermione apparate with Ron and Harry. Sighing in relief at the trio’s escape, you quickly continue to push through the pandemonium. 

As Remus turns his back, you see a death eater try and shoot a killing curse at him causing you to nearly fly forward on the spot. 

“Expulso!” The lamps by the death eater’s head explodes in a spray of glass, causing him to hunch over long enough for Sirius to fire off an array of hexes that had you raising your eyebrows. 

Good to know that even Azkaban couldn’t erode his dueling skills. 

Satisfied with your cathartic release, you apparate away with Luna to the first place that pops into your head. 

As you touch down on damp cobblestone, you quickly spin around to assess Luna for injuries. The girl merely smiles at you reassuringly before gazing around at your surroundings. Luckily, it seemed that this section of Diagon Alley was safe from death eaters for now, but with the fall of the Ministry, it would only be a matter of hours before chaos would erupt. 

You cringe at the thought, knowing that many of the shops were still recovering from the previous year when Ollivander’s was ransacked and when Fortescue was killed by death eaters. 

Slowly creeping out from the dark alley you were both in, you assess the environment quickly. There were a few wizards still walking about, but for the most part, it was quiet and safe. 

Waving for Luna to follow, you both begin to stroll down the stone path, no real destination in mind. 

“Bedda Matri! What are you doing?” You whip around with your wand pointed towards the voice, only lowering it once you see an annoyingly familiar face, “And what are you wearing?”

“Nice to see you too, B. We were at a wedding for your information. I would have taken you as my plus one, but then I remembered how insufferable you are.” 

Your shoulders slacken in relief and you quickly trail over to your smirking friend. 

The boy goes to retaliate, but is interrupted by a dulcet voice, “Mio figlio, aren’t you going to introduce me?” 

Pausing at the honeyed voice, you slowly crane your head to the shadows to meet a pair of amused eyes. 

Blaise seems to flounder a bit before quickly composing himself, “Mama, this is Y/N L/N, my good friend,” he then turns towards your flustered gape and coughs lightly, “Y/N, this is my mother.” 

You collect yourself and straighten up your posture, inclining your head towards the imposing woman, “Contessa Zabini.” 

“How fortunate.” She drawls, slowly approaching your stiff figure, “We finally meet young Y/N, though the night is not kind. Come, let’s have tea together, we have much to discuss.” 

Perhaps you should have tested your luck with the death eaters. 

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @ily2lia

[xxfaggatronxx]

Inspired by @yakowo ‘s drawing

Daddy Dom Price x Baby Gay Gaz

Part 2: Gaz

Gaz never thought he was gay. Or bisexual. Or whatever it was called. Sure, he had taken a few peeks in the communal showers on base, but who hadn’t? And as a kid his mom had let him try her makeup, but she was always sweet and kind. The one thing that changed everything was his Captain, John Price.

Maybe it was the way he was so kind and fatherly, a presence Gaz had missed in his life when his father passed at the age of eight. Or it could have been the time Price had given him praise, was patient when he had adjusted to the task force. But, it was probably the time he saved his life.

A mission going sideways, Price flinging himself on top of Gaz to keep him covered from enemy fire, the feeling of the warm weight pressing on his body, the thick thighs straddling his hips, so similar to…. Other experiences his hands had flown up with muscle memory, resting on his Captain’s hips while Prince yelled for backup.

Needless to say, Gaz left that mission with every excuse to keep his lap covered.

But going to a gay bar? That felt like a monumental step. One he felt like should be taken with a couple shots and… maybe a few more for good measure. ‘Liquid Courage’, as Soap called it anyways.

Stepping into the bar…. It felt like any other bar. Gaz hadn’t known what he was expecting; maybe a strip club with skinny, pale men shaking their asses on poles with lots of makeup? Because that certainly wasn’t it. The lights were dim, colors flashing with the smell of sweat, booze, and too many body sprays. Just like the barracks.

He was greeted with the sight of most people… simply relaxing. Some were dancing, sure, but some were curled up on each other’s laps, odd dog-like masks obscured some people’s faces, and there was even a small group of people in dresses, and he had to do a double take when he saw a man with a beard and belly in a skintight dress.

He saw a man with his back towards him, and an odd green cloth in his left pocket. Lots of people had little bandanas in their pockets, actually. He approached the man, and saw people touching him, so it was probably okay, he figured. Gaz hesitantly laid his palm on the man’s lower back, tracing down until he reached their ass, giving it a firm squeeze before stuffing a ten into the back pocket. “…Care for a dance?”

The guy even leaned back into the touch, humming deeply until Gaz felt the leather of his jacket tickle his nose slightly, the rough feel of a beard rubbing against his jaw as the man backed up, pressing his round ass against Gaz’s crotch. Good god, this was *fun*, why hadn’t he done this before?

His hands rested on the strangers hips, pulling him back to grind on him slowly, resting his chin over the man’s shoulder with a soft, shaky sigh. He ran his hands over the man’s front, thumbs dipping between their belt and hips as he heard a familiar chuckle, and a husky, low voice whisper in his ear. “You’re new to the scene, aren’t you?”

Gaz froze, swallowing thickly. “….Captain?” By the way his ‘dance’ partner froze, he realized that he had been recognized too. Price stepped off to the side, eyes wide as he stared at Gaz, as if shocked to be seen like that: leather jacket, leather cap, tight gray jeans and with money stuffed into his pants like… like a stripper.

His boss… his captain was frozen in front of him, and took another step back. Gaz took a step towards Price, reaching out to place a hand on his waist, pulling him closer until their hips were pressed flush. “Wait…. I… can I have my dance still… sir?” Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he felt rough leather under his chin, lifting slightly as he gasped.

That damn crop. Price leaned in, his beard scratching Gaz’s neck, making the younger shudder and his eyes flutter closed. “Please… Sir,” Price returned a smile, pressing a kiss to his neck, and Gaz’s hands slipped to his boss’s waist, holding him with shaky hands. Price chuckled, smelling like leather, tabbaco, and rum. “…You asked so nicely, Kyle… I think you deserve a reward…”

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐤!

— pairing; nagi seishiro x reader  

— summary; in which you discover that nagi seishiro has an eight-pack after seeing him work out. set in the blue lock manager au, and also inspired by that one picture in the manga of nagi doing pull-ups (you know the one).

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my content and wish to support me. reblogs are appreciated !!

❋ Get a grip. Get a grip.

❋ You’ve seen boys in various states of undress before. It kind of comes with the territory from being the manager to a whole hoard of teenage boys. Hell, even Bachira’s flashed you before, and you’d taken it in your stride easily enough.

❋ But this?

❋ This is different.

❋ Very, very different.

❋ You stand at the entrance to Manshine’s private gym, your arms filled with sports bottles and clean towels, staring unabashedly at Nagi.

❋ Oh my God.

❋ Seeing him in the flesh ─ as Nagi casually tosses his sweat stained shirt into a corner ─ is practically synapse frying. You aren’t sure if the fruits of Chris Prince’s training are beginning to make themselves known, or if Nagi’s always been this . . . Well-built under the baggy shirts he always seems to favour. 

❋ But whatever the case is, you definitely aren’t complaining as you stare unabashedly at Nagi. There isn't an ounce of excess flesh on him anywhere, just hard slabs of honed muscle.

❋ Someone coming into the gym bumps into you, still frozen in place. You can barely manage an apology; you’re far too busy visually devouring Nagi and his washboard abs.

❋ “[NAME], you’re staring.” Reo says from behind you, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

❋ “Yeah, you look like you wanna devour Nagi,” Chigiri chimes in. And, after a pause, “And not in the way Isagi usually means it.”

❋ “Thanks a lot, guys.” You mutter, flushed with a sudden shame at how obviously you’d been staring.

❋ “Just keeping it real,” Reo says, patting your shoulder in consolation as he slips past you into the gym.

❋ And just for that last, unnecessary comment, you think that you’ll ask Chris Prince to double Reo’s training menu.

[slay-the-heroine]

The Narrator:

No, stop that.

"What's going on with you?"

The Narrator:

Your body lunges forward, the blade held low, ready to sink into her heart.

The Narrator:

But the Heroine avoids your attack, maneuvering to the side before the blade has a chance to connect.

The Narrator:

Stop that! Stop trying to resist me! I'm trying to get you out of here alive.

The Narrator:

The blade! Move. The. Blade!

The Narrator:

As your body remains frozen in stubborn resistance, the Heroine's gaze turns harsh. She glances at the blade, then back at you.

"Is this... What I think it is?"

The Narrator:

She hastily grabs the blade from your infuriatingly rigid hands... What are you doing?

The Narrator:

With nothing but a curl of her lip, she drives it into your chest, tearing through flesh and sinew. It is agony. But you aren't dead yet.

"Hold still."

Voice of the Prince:

She seems upset at us. But, that wasn't our fault. I wish we could've explained ourself.

The Narrator:

Don't you try to skew the blame. I did what I could to save the situation. Your death will be the end of it all. Letting her kill you has doomed everyone.

The Narrator:

Whatever. She twists the knife deeper, the force sends blood flying. You feel crashing waves of burning pain as she pushes the blade until the hilt hits your chest.

"How... dare... you."

Voice of the Prince:

Why is she so angry?

The Narrator:

You pulled a knife on her. Though it doesn't matter how she feels about you, really, does it? You're the one who got stabbed, and it won't be long before you bleed out.

The Narrator:

With your chest carved, she tugs out the knife, and your legs give out beneath you. You collapse to the floor, blood pouring out of you, your limbs unresponsive. The Heroine stares down at you with something of a grimace.

Voice of the Prince:

Is this what we deserve?

The Narrator:

Not great, is it? As much as I'd prefer for things to have gone differently, I can't deny the reality of what's happened. This was the choice you made, and now you have none left.

The Narrator:

The last thing you hear is the Heroine chuckling dryly as your senses fade.

The Narrator:

Everything goes dark, and you die.

>>>

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 39

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1k

Back to the Start! Previous Next

He comforted Prince, petting his tentacles once again. You're not too surprised to see that Prince is big on physical affection.

Eventually, the three of you went back to sleep, after a small cup of tea and some chatting. Emperor would gloat about past battles, but it wasn't in the way you'd expect. He'd often speak highly of his teammates, appearing proud of them more than simply 'Oh we're better than everyone haha'. He seemed genuine, as if they were his family. They probably were his family now. Emperor, the eldest, N-pacer, the older sister, Edging Jr., the middle brother, and Prince, the youngest.

The true family.

You weren't sure what to do with yourself the following day. You had a notably very nice breakfast- near feast- with team Monarch. They were all so kind to you: Offering you juice or whatever beverage you wanted, asking if the food was okay, making sure your plate was taken care of. ..Asking how your family was.

Right, Emperor was the only one that knew why you were homeless for the moment. The others just assumed Prince brought a friend home. That's... oddly sweet, actually. How they didn't even bother with asking for any kind of explanation, letting Prince be happy with his friend. You smiled softly as they chatted amongst themselves, leaving your chin in the palm of your hand due to being finished your food before the rest of them.

Before you left, not wanting to intrude any further, Prince claimed to have a small gift for you. It was originally for him, but it didn't fit him yet, but he wanted to give it a good use.

It was a fairly flat gold ring with a small crown symbol engraved on it. It was flat so that it wouldn't mess with the way whoever wore it held their weapon. The two brothers guided you to the gates, waving you goodbye. You then noticed something on Emperor's left hand- a matching gold ring. That's sweet, knowing that Prince and he were supposed to have matching rings. You almost felt bad accepting the gift afterwards, but Prince assured you it suited you much more and he could always get another one.

After you left, Emperor turned to his brother and thanked him, smiling.

"Thank you for the cover-up story, Prince."

Prince giggled and covered his mouth with his hand before whispering:

"Someone's got a cruuush~"

Emperor shot him a playful glare paired with a roll of his eyes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You decided you'd do some Salmon Run to fill your time.

You played on your phone, waiting for your teammates after putting on your slopsuit. You smiled as you scrolled through your gallery, going through memories you've captured with your family and the S4, as well as other teams like the blue team and Gloves' team.

Your first teammate arrived and you paid them no mind as they changed into their Salmon Run gear. Eventually you looked up at them to try to gauge how skilled they appeared, hoping you'd end up with a good teammate. Unlike in game, whoever walks in first goes to work, no matter if they're a go-getter or profreshional. What you weren't expecting was a pair of cyan eyes staring right back at you through the lenses of a gasmask.

"Ah..."

You sat frozen for a moment, as did Mask.

Well, no matter the circumstances, you were both here to work.

"So, um, are you here so you can buy a new game?"

He nods, continuing to get ready for his shift.

It was an awkward few minutes of silence, many questions on your mind. You couldn't help but choose one to ask. In a small voice, you mustered:

"Is the S4 doing okay?"

"...Whaaat do you meaaan?"

"I mean with... the whole idea that you're from a game."

"I thiiink it's kinda cool. They're doing okay."

He paused for a moment,

"This world is very real to us, riiiight? I don't seeee the issue. And I thiiiink they're beginniiiing to get over it tooooo."

You sigh in relief, and Mask looks at you with curiosity. Out of all the questions you could have asked, you asked if they were okay? Did you not care if they hated you? What they thought of you? Only if they were doing okay?

You're an interesting squid, he'll give you that.

Soon enough, two others rolled in - literally - to Grizz.co. Goggles and Gloves.

Goggles swiftly tacked you in a hug, still excited about your big win. You hugged him back and ruffled his tentacles, enjoying the simpleness of his actions. Things weren't so complicated with him. And they didn't have to be. After your interaction, Gloves dabs you up, and fistbumps you, also proud of your win against Emperor.

Mask watched from afar, curiosity in his gaze. You confused him. So much was happening in your life, yet you were still able to enjoy it? Shouldn't you hate life right now? Shouldn't you be working at Grizz.co to forget your worries?

The thing he was most confused about is how he couldn't hate you, despite you seemingly enjoying life. You made the best out of what you had and he didn't hate you for it. If anything, maybe he even lo- no, no. Surely not. That was too far.

But he didn't hate you, he knew that much.

Soon enough, you were sent off to Spawning Grounds with Mask, Goggles and Gloves by your side. You chatted in the helicopter with Goggles, talking about your recent battle and how your teams were doing.

Mask knew it must've hurt to talk about, yet you continued to force a smile, subtly encouraging Goggles to talk about his own team.

Mask analysed you carefully as you battled. You especially seemed to be good at reviving your teammates and protecting them. You really were good at caring for others. You were patient with Gloves and Goggles, teaching them how to take down the bosses.

.

.

.

May.25.24

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