#AND!! SILVER HAIR MY BELOVED!!! FUCKING THANK YOU!!!

[lloydfrontera]

A "Crown prince sells medicine" webtoon just came out????? And it looks so cute omg

https://comic.naver.com/webtoon/detail?titleId=818969&no=1&week=tue

OH MY GOD????? THIS LOOKS??? GOOD???

look at my skrunkly!!!

look at him!! my sweetheart my love my heart!! he looks!! so good!!! the asrahan genes really did came through for him (´TωT`)

look at his deranged little smile as he plans on stabbing himself with needles <333

alas. i already have a little complaint. and it is one we feared for a long time.

is that. is that damian. why is his hair so short. that's shoulder lenght hair. which i don't doubt will look amazing on him and i'm already salivating at the idea but. why did you cut his hair ( T∀T)

i'm so excited tho!!!! i've been dying to get more cpsm content and this!! looks tentatively good!!

i shan't,,, build my expectations too high because we already saw what happened last time but. i am cautiously hopeful about the first episode. he really do looks great <3

also a webcomic is the perfect way to get more people to go rabid with me about terminal devotion and royal malpractice. i do not do them justice in this blog and you guys deserve to see them be weird about each other in person (ФωФ)

i'm freaking out so hard omggg thank you so much for letting me know i cannot emphasize enough how much this made my day!!!

[the-kr8tor]

EEEEEEEEP GET ME SOME DILF! HOBIE TO MUNCH ON!!

Elder berries for my Beloved Bobart Brown with ❣️!! (I had a temporary war w myself trying to choose between ❣️ or ⭐) where R is chasing BBB (beloved Bobart Brown) cuz she has a big fat crush on him while he's like, "uhhh, you're cute but you do know that I'm way to old for you?" but R is a little hard headed y'know.

Hope I'm not asking for too much🥲

Watch me pull a "Too Sweet + Guys my age + Older + Favorite" combo for the next whole hour or so:3

AAHHHHHHH OLDER HOBIE! Thank you for requesting, rozey!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, older! Hobie, cw alcohol mention, awkward flirting, fluff!

A/N: Special thanks to @yumeaoka-chan bc their comment abt aaron single-handedly inspired this one 🤭

One year celebration 🎉

The giggling and the chatter of your friends are muffled in your ears as you watch him pass the doors of the pub. It's as if cupid himself struck an arrow right at your heart. He looks fit, like he just strutted out of a runway and into the dim pub. He wears leather well, jacket practically sculpted to his form. His hair is in long braids, all tied together in a ponytail that has the small silver charms clicking against each other. Then you spot the grey hairs weaved around the pretty braids, white hair running from the sides, earning him the title of a silver fox in your heart. Then there's his eyes, amber, soft and kind against the yellow lights of the pub. He has crow’s feet around those golden eyes, a testament that he has smiled a lot in his life.

As he strides towards the bar, his posture casual, hands tucked inside his pockets and with the nonchalance of someone who owns the place. Judging by how he paid for the single pint he ordered, that's not the case. But the curt nod exchanged by the handsome stranger and the bartender says that he's a regular. He just has that air around him that turns heads, admiration or something more as you see some patrons glance his way— all having the same shining eyes you probably have right now.

You purse your lips when he wraps his lithe ringed fingers around the glass, but before he sips, he blinks, head craning to look in your direction.

Caught in the act, you almost squeak, hands gripping at the glass of your forgotten drink as the handsome older stranger tilts his head, a smile curling on the corner of his lips. His eyes seem to gaze at you for hours, but with a parting chuckle from him, he turns back towards his lone drink.

“Shit.” You curse under your breath, palms clammy as you swallow thickly just from how you remembered his eyes meeting your own.

Your friends seem to notice your obvious gawking, and Betty, your best friend, taps your shoulder with a raise of her neat brow. “If you don't talk to him now, I will.”

“Don’t you dare.” Glaring, she giggles, pushing you off the booth until you're tethering off the edge of the rough leather seat. “Betty!” You whisper yell, gripping the end of the table.

“Go,” she continues to urge you, pinching your sides as you hop off the seat with a wince. “Go use your pretty girl charm and get your old man!”

“What charm?” Trying to sit back down, she quickly slides over to your seat, blocking you. “Betty!” Your friends stifle a laugh.

“How about a bet, to encourage you to put your pretty ass out there, hm?” She pokes your stomach, still sitting in your seat. You roll your eyes, pushing her away with your knee to no avail. “If you get his number, then we'll buy you that book you've been raving about.”

“Really?” You perk up, staring at your friends as they nod with a chuckle. “You better not be fucking with me, Betty, that's a really expensive book, it's limited edition.”

Betty almost falters. “Well, if we split it then it won't be, right?” She gets a few reluctant nods. “Besides, do you think you'll get his number?”

“For the book? Yes, bonus I get myself a boyfriend that would go to the store to buy me pads— and yes, I'm looking at you Anna and your Chad, who thinks wings are actually chicken wings.” A round of guffaws echoes out as Anna nods and sends you off with a pat on your behind.

As you start crossing the distance towards the mysterious hot stranger, you start to feel the nerves ebbing through you. Your hands are like waterfalls, and your legs feel like jelly once you get near enough to smell his cologne. Not overpowering that would give you the ick, it's citrus with a hint of fresh linen and mint.

You slide on the stool beside him, not knowing what to do with your hands as you put it on the counter then immediately change your mind and put it over your lap.

He raises a pierced brow, side eyeing you over the rim of his glass. “You’re punchin’ above your age range, love.”

Fuck, even his voice sends shivers down your arms. A good kind of shiver, not the type that you get when there's a scary movie playing.

“Really? I thought you were my age.” That's a shit reply, you thought to yourself, cringing. You close your eyes then swallow down your nerves before exhaling and craning your neck to finally look at him. “So, what's your poison?”

A smile slowly spreads on his pierced lips, eyes roaming around the curve of your jaw before meeting your own. “A girl after my own heart.”

“I'm not a girl, I'm a woman.” That sounded better in your head. You bite your lip to suppress a pained groan as you try to flag down the bartender.

He looks you up and down before flicking his eyes to yours once again. “Clearly.”

Your cheeks are on fire. Not getting a word out, the bartender ignores you.

He swallows the last of his drink, placing the glass down before flicking his wrist, index and middle raised as he calls the bartender effortlessly. You're in awe as the bartender walks over to him.

“A whiskey, neat for me and a cherry daiquiri for the…” he smirks, eyes glancing at you for a moment. “...Woman.”

You huff in your seat, cheeks still aflame. “How'd you know that's my drink?”

“Saw you cradlin’ it while you were oglin’ me.” The drinks slide on the counter, and he catches them before handing you your own. “A cherry daiquiri for the woman.” He teases with a glint in his eyes.

“Fine, I get it, I'm not your type.” Your shoulders slump, inhaling deeply and accepting defeat. “At least let me pay for the drinks.”

“Now, I didn't say anythin' ‘bout that.” His eyes grow softer, head tilting as he smiles, a genuine one, not a playful one. “Who said you're not my type?”

“Y–You, wait– no, I did. Yeah I did.” You stutter, almost fumbling off your seat as he grins at you.

“That right?” He rolls his shoulders, finger tapping the glass of his amber drink. “I figured I owe you a conversation with you payin’ and the book on the line.”

Chuckling nervously, you play with the hem of your dress. He keeps gazing at you like you're the only person in the whole pub, like all of his attention is on you. “W–What book?” You're caught red handed.

“The book that you'll get if you manage to get my number. What kind of book is it then?” He takes a sip, and you find yourself ogling at his bobbing Adam's apple.

You shake your thoughts away, taking your own drink and sipping at it, all the while trying not to choke from the pretty sight in front of you. “It's a new edition of my favourite book. It has a new cover, and they only made like a hundred of them.”

“Shit, is it the one from S. Collins?”

Your eyes widen, expression lighting up from the mention. “Yes! It's by her! Have you read it?”

“Read it? Love, I read all of ‘em.”

Grinning, the two of you fall into a smooth and casual conversation. From talking about books to everything under the sun. He's easy to talk to, smart and not just easy on the eyes. It's as if you've known him your whole life, and based on his easy smile, he feels the same. You don't realize it's been an hour until Betty tosses a straw at you and taps her watch.

“Shit,” you turn back towards him and his shoulders slouch with slight disappointment. “I have to go, thank you by the way. It's—” your heart already aches. “It was nice.” As you toss some bills on the counter, he stops you with his hand bracelet around your wrist gently.

“You forgot somethin', love.”

“What's that?”

“My name, it's Hobie, Hobie Brown.”

Your shyness peeks out as you tell him your name. Hobie smiles back, nodding and hiding his face by taking a napkin on the counter and writing something on it. Wait, was he flustered?

“And my number, call me when you get your book.”

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Joel goes on a date but not with you. Two idiots falling and pining for each other. Lotta swearing, because, yeah, I like it. Reader has long enough hair for a ponytail and likes comfy clothes. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Two | Main Masterlist

“Good morning, Millers!” you greeted as you let yourself into their house the following morning. Nearing late October, it was a beautiful day outside and the crisp morning air made you happy. It would heat up later, but for now you were enjoying the comfort of a beloved hoodie and yoga pants.

“Hi darlin’,” Joel replied with a lot less enthusiasm as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Still nursing his first cup of coffee, his sparkling personality hadn’t kicked in yet. “Sarah’s just gettin’ dressed. Want some coffee?”

“Nah, don’t drink the stuff. Smells good, but the taste is just…” You scrunched up your nose, at a loss for the right word to describe how utterly disgusting you found the taste of coffee. You moved through the house to join him in the kitchen.

Turning back to the counter with a chuckle, Joel poured himself another cup and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I guess. More for me, then.”

“There’s the silver lining!” you teased. “So, you guys have any big plans this weekend?”

“Nah, should be qui—Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Joel closed his eyes, bumping a fist against his forehead. His gaze was shuttered when it met yours again. “Would you mind watching Sarah on Saturday evening?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans, so I’m happy to hang with the nugget. You got a hot date or something?” You meant it as a joke, but the way Joel winced clued you in. Your face fell at his next words, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah. Tommy set it up.” Joel drained the rest of his cup, tossing it into the sink, and ran an anxious hand through his curls. “First one in a while, ya know.”

No, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t really your business, was it? Sarah’s arrival in the kitchen saved you from having to say anything else as the little girl launched herself at you.

“Hey nugget,” you said, wrapping your arms around her little body as she clung to your waist. Despite your best efforts, your greeting lacked your prior enthusiasm. You could feel the heavy weight of Joel’s gaze on you like a laser, but you refused to look in his direction. “You ready to go?”

“Uh huh, I already ate breakfast,” Sarah said proudly, spinning to hug her father. “Bye Dad, love you.”

You turned away, already heading for the door as Joel pulled her in for a bear hug, feeling your heart constrict at how much they loved each other. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Joel had a date.

A date who wasn’t you.

Man, that fucking sucked.

Could you blame the guy, though? He was still young and handsome, hardworking and responsible to a fault. And, most of all, he didn’t know that you harbored growing feelings for him. Nor could he ever find out, you reminded yourself, not when your dad was his best friend.

The ride to drop Sarah off was full of silence, your mind weighed down with thoughts of Joel and the valiant effort of trying to convince yourself to stop thinking about him. Coming out of the fog as you moved up in the school drop-off line, you wished Sarah a good day and watched as she bounced up the steps into the building. You envied that sweet obliviousness of youth.

Driving away from the school, anxiety started to kick in. The thought of going back to your house to sit alone as the four walls closed in on you made your stomach churn. You drove around for an hour, no real destination in mind, and ended up at Peace District Park. With nothing much else to do, you walked the trails of the urban oasis and let nature work its magic in calming your nerves.

It worked.

As you sat on a bench watching songbirds flutter around the flora, you texted one of your best friends from high school who still lived in the area. You needed a girl’s night out.

Distractions were dangerous in his line of work, but Joel struggled to get his mind to focus all morning. He fixated on the way your face fell and your entire demeanor changed when he mentioned the date, like you were disappointed, hurt even. But that couldn’t be, could it?

There was no way you felt something for him. Was there?

Joel went over and over every interaction between you two since the day you met, trying to see if he was reading into things too much. He wasn’t the most observant guy, he knew that well enough, but there were moments when he’d catch you gazing at him with this look of wonder in your eyes… that had to mean something. Right?

Fuck. He was really bad at this stuff. So out of practice and lacking confidence.

Maybe he just imagined it all. Maybe you had something else on your mind and didn’t give a shit about someone like him going on a date.

What could he do about it if you liked him anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, what did it matter. You were JB’s daughter and Sarah’s babysitter, nothing more and nothing less.

Joel’s mind continued to cycle through the same thoughts all day, until he smashed his thumb with a hammer because he was so distracted. Pissed off and in pain, he called it a day a couple hours early, leaving Tommy in charge of the site. He needed to get home and put some ice on his thumb.

By some cosmic coincidence, he arrived home at the same time as you and Sarah. He couldn’t hide his thumb from your eagle eyes as the three of you entered the house.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” you hissed, trying not to swear in front of Sarah, your delicate hand already reaching for his larger, dirtier one. “What happened to your thumb?”

“It got in the way of a hammer,” Joel mumbled, doing his best not to wince as you gently prodded at the swollen digit. He also did his best to ignore the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch on him, wishing you would touch him everywhere. “You don’t have to fuss, darlin’. It just needs some ice.”

“Oh, hush up, you. Go wash your hands then sit down and relax, I’ll get you some ice and aspirin to help with the swelling. You’re lucky it’s not broken!”

“Bossy lil’ thing, aren’t you,” he grumbled, doing exactly as you ordered once his boots were kicked off to the side of the foyer. Sarah nestled against him on the couch once he sat, fussing over his thumb just as much as you did. His lips quirked upwards at the thought that it meant you both cared about him.

You returned minutes later with a bag of frozen peas, two white pills, and a bottle of cold beer in hand. “Take these,” you directed, offering him the pills and beer. Once he swallowed, you placed the bag on his hand, carefully adjusting it to wrap around his thumb. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you concentrated on not hurting him and he nearly groaned as an ache built up in his belly at the sight.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel said, voice deep and husky before clearing his throat. His eyes clocked your movements as you stood up straight and your eyes widened when they met his half-lidded gaze. He catalogued the moment to add to the growing list of moments between the two of you that hinted at something deeper, something more lingering in the air.

You waved off his thanks and headed back to the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll make some dinner for your two before I leave.”

He wanted to follow you, to let you know he wanted you to stay for dinner, and maybe watch a movie with him and Sarah afterwards, but Sarah’s sweet little voice distracted him.

“Will you help me with my homework, Daddy?” She peered up at him with eyes that matched his own and his heart swelled with love.

“Of course, my little nugget. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They worked on math problems until you called them for dinner, Joel relieved at the break. An exceptionally bright girl, Sarah didn’t really need his help, but she enjoyed it when he tried. Math made his head hurt, a headache starting to build between his eyes. The headache grew at the sight of only two plates full of spaghetti on the table.

“You’re not eating?” Sarah’s voice squeaked, making her dissatisfaction clear. Turning to him as you shook your head, she added, “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”

Joel’s mouth barely opened before snapping shut again. You were already speaking, cutting off whatever he would have said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, nugget. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Sarah’s disappointment broke his heart, and Joel felt helpless.

“You sure you can’t stay? I thought maybe we could watch a Disney movie after.” He looked at you with unmasked hope in his eyes. He wanted you to stay even more than his daughter did, but he couldn’t tell you that.

Something flashed in your eyes but disappeared before Joel could figure out what it was. “Sorry, I have plans with a friend and I can’t stay. You two enjoy the movie without me,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll come by at 4:30 tomorrow, okay?”

Joel nodded, cringing at the reminder of his date, and watched you leave with a pang of disappointment rivalling Sarah’s.

Emily never changed. She was still the prettiest girl in the room and funny as hell, lifting your mood just like she did back in high school. The pair of you sat at a swanky bar downtown, catching up like you never missed any time together. You stayed in touch a bit over the years, but the distance and different priorities led to your friendship taking a back seat to everything else. Now that you were back, it was easy to dive right back into that unbreakable bond the two of you always shared and pick up where you left off.

You didn’t realize how much you missed that bond until now.

The bar filled with the typical Friday night after work crowd as the two of you sipped at your drinks and rehashed the past few years. Soon, the conversation moved to your current love life – or, more accurately, your complete lack of one.

“So, you seeing anyone lately?” Emily asked, signaling to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “Last I heard, you were with that dude… what was his name? The one that would gaslight you and always insisted your tears were weaponized when he made you cry.”

“Yeah, Tom. That asshole. I wasted too much time on him not knowing any better, but we broke up about a year and a half ago, thank God.” You cringed at the thought of all the emotional damage you had to overcome after that one. You worked hard on finding yourself again after that disaster. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Ever the receptive one, Emily picked up something in your tone that you couldn’t hide. Tilting her head curiously, clocking your movements with her sharp eyes, she continued, “But there’s someone who caught your eye? Do tell!”

Without hesitation, you launched into a long-winded explanation of how you met Joel and how you’re now a mess over the guy.

“Dad’s best friend, huh? When did you become such a cliché?” Emily teased, her shoulder gently bumping yours. “He sounds dreamy, though!”

“I am not a cliché! We don’t all get to all get to marry our high school sweetheart because we met ‘the one’ when we were 15. Talk about a cliché!” You cackled, drawing the attention of two men in suits a few seats down from you, but you ignored them.

“Alright, alright,” Emily mock surrendered. “Back to dad’s best friend. What is the problem? The JB I remember is a cool guy who wouldn’t have a problem with you dating his friend, not when said friend is only a bit older than you and such a good guy.”

That caught you by surprise. “You really think my dad would be okay with it?”

Emily shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t talked to your dad in years, but I remember him being a pretty reasonable guy and he always wanted the best for you. Why wouldn’t he want you to be with someone responsible and caring like this Joel guy?”

You nodded thoughtfully, your teeth worrying your plump bottom lip. “Even if my dad was cool with it, there’s the fact that Joel is not interested. He’s going on a date tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.”

After a moment of consideration, Emily asked, “Does he do that often? Date, I mean.”

You shook your head, fingers dancing absentmindedly along the edge of the bar. “Apparently not. He said it’s the first one in a long time.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t find the timing suspicious?”

That caught you off guard, your eyes darting to hers. “Should I?”

Shoulders shrugging beneath long layers of dark hair, Emily hummed. “Maybe? From what you just told me about your interactions, I find it interesting that he’s suddenly going on a date. Makes me think he has feelings and he’s struggling with them just like you are.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You blew off her observations, you couldn’t afford to start having hope now when he was going on a date tomorrow. Instead, you changed the subject. “So, how are you and Ed doing?”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and mixed drinks with the occasional interruption from a few brave men hitting on you. It crossed your mind to flirt with one or two of them, but you were having too much fun catching up with Emily and blew each of them off. Before you knew it, the hour was late and Emily’s husband, Ed, picked you both up to make sure you got home safe.

“What the hell am I doing?” Joel asked his reflection as he tried on his fourth shirt from his closet. He wasn’t looking forward to this date at all, his mind a mess between feeling guilty about leaving Sarah, the confusing mix of emotions revolving around you, and his complete lack of confidence.

Torn between trying too hard and not trying at all, he huffed in frustration, ripping the buttons of the shirt open before tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes on his bed.

He had no business going on a date. What had he been thinking when he agreed to go?

Joel slumped onto his bed in defeat, his right fist coming up to bump against his forehead. How could he ever think that going on a date would get his mind off you? Not to mention, he felt like a dick for asking you to watch Sarah while he went on said date.

God, he really wasn’t good with this kind of shit.

A glance at the clock got him moving. You were due to arrive shortly, and he had to pick Annica up for a 5:30 reservation Tommy insisted he make. There was no room to dilly dally.

Another glance through his closet and Joel settled on a blue flannel and dark jeans, paired with newer black boots. Best to just be himself, he thought. Using a bit of gel, he pushed his curls back from his face. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he ran his truck through the car wash earlier in the day.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he said to his reflection before leaving his bedroom, the doorbell ringing as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Joel opened the door to find you standing there, your feet shifting uncertainly. You looked tired, yet beautiful as always and he gulped. “Hey, why didn’t you just come in? You have a key.”

“Hey Joel,” you greeted with a shrug, your voice quiet. Your eyes scanned from his head down to his feet like you were drinking him in. “Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Ok?” Confused, he waited for you to explain, but you kept your mouth shut. Something was off with you. He wondered if something happened last night – you said you had plans, had it been a date of your own? His heart skipped a beat as he shook his head clear. “Well, come on in. You doin’ alright, darlin’?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed back causing Joel’s brows to pull into a frown as you followed him into the house. “You look nice. Ready for your date?”

Was it just him or did it seem like asking that question pained you? What the fuck was wrong with him? Shaking his head free of thoughts like that, he blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “I’m kinda nervous, actually.”

Joel watched your eyes soften at that. “You shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

Including you? he wondered. There was a wistfulness to your voice that shattered him, leaving him ready to ditch his date and stay there with you and Sarah. “Hey, I, um—”

“You’re here! Finally! Come on, I want to show you something!” Sarah sprinted into the living room, grabbing your hand, and stealing your attention before Joel could finish his sentence. Maybe that was a good thing. God only knows what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Slow down, nugget! I’m coming,” you laughed as the young girl dragged you toward the stairs. It was the first smile of yours Joel glimpsed since you arrived, and his heart beat heavy in his chest when you turned to speak to him over your shoulder, your broad smile dimming with your next words. “Have fun tonight, Joel. You deserve a nice night out.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he replied, the words heavy in his mouth. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Be good, Sarah! I ordered pizza for you both, should be here soon.”

“I always am, Dad! Love you!” Sarah yelled down the stairs, her attention already focused on whatever she wanted to show you.

“Love you, too.” Joel continued staring up the stairs long after the two of you were out of sight, a sense of yearning knotted deep in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, once again asking himself why the hell he agreed to this date in the first place.

“Can we go see it tonight? Please?” Sarah gazed up at you with her dark eyes widened like a baby cow and you were powerless. How did Joel ever tell this precious, sweet girl ‘no’? It was impossible.

“Let’s see what the showtimes are first. We can’t be out too late.” Scanning the movie listing Sarah pulled up on her tablet, you found the showtimes for the latest kid friendly adventure movie she wanted to see. “There’s one at 6:30. We can totally do that one and still have you home for bedtime. Sound good?”

“Yes! Can we get popcorn?”

“Of course! No trip to the movies is complete without popcorn.”

The two of you ate some pizza before getting ready to go. You liked getting there early enough to find your seats and see the trailers before the movie started. Texting Joel on your way out the door to let him know you were taking Sarah out, the two of you climbed into your car.

The movie theater was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, but you found a good parking spot beneath a light post not far from the entrance. There were lines for tickets and concessions leaving you relieved at arriving early. With tickets in hand, you led Sarah to the shortest of lines in front of the concessions counter. That’s when you saw them.

A tall blonde with big hair and legs for days, wearing tight fitting jeans like a second skin and yapping away while walking closely with a taller man with broad shoulders and curly, dark hair. The man’s sleeves were rolled up, his left hand placed low on the woman’s back, gently guiding her as she gripped a bucket of popcorn and a fountain drink. Another fountain drink was clutched in the man’s right hand. As if he felt the searing heat of your jealous gaze, the man turned, and your stomach plummeted.

Joel’s dark umber eyes met yours in surprise, his hand dropping from the woman’s back as he watched your face fall. He looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to carry on with his date or rush to your side. His eyes darted to find Sarah standing at your side, her focus on the snacks displayed within the glass counter. Forcing a half smile to your face, you dipped your head in greeting and turned to move forward, your attention refocusing as it was your turn to plan an order. All the while, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and his date. Knowing that he wouldn’t want to introduce his daughter on a first date, you never told Sarah that you saw him.

Handing the bucket of popcorn to Sarah, you said, “Careful now. I’ll grab napkins and carry our drinks.” You led the way past the concessions toward the designated theater, which was, thankfully, on the other side of the building from where Joel and his date had been heading.

You phone buzzed in your pocket once you and Sarah were seated – in the middle of the aisle, at Sarah’s insistence, because you’d have the best view. It was a text from Joel.

JM: Sorry darlin’ just saw your text. Hope you and Sarah enjoy your movie.

Torn between responding or just leaving him on read, you went with a third option and gave his message a thumbs up before shoving the phone deep into your pocket. Minutes later, you relented with a sigh, pulling the phone back out to respond a little kindlier.

You: Thanks. I didn’t know you were taking your date to the movies or we would have gone somewhere else.

Bubbles appeared as he was typing, but you didn’t want to see what else he had to say. Silencing your phone, you shoved it back into your pocket.

You were distracted the entire movie, staring blankly at the large screen as you over-analyzed every detail about Joel’s date. She was closer to his age, maybe even a bit older, with big, perky boobs and a pretty face covered with a thick layer of makeup. Her hairstyle fit the old quote, “the bigger the hair, the closer to God” and likely took her an hour or more to style. She made an effort, that’s what seemed to matter. Meanwhile, you sat in the theater with your hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. You felt like a child compared to Joel’s date.

Part of you wanted to hate her for having all the features that Joel apparently found attractive, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault the man you were pining over wasn’t the least bit interested in you.

Finally, the credits rolled, and you pretended to have paid attention to the movie as you listened to Sarah gushing over it for the entire ride back to the Miller house and in the moments between brushing her teeth and tucking her into bed.

The living room couch was particularly comfortable when you sat on it, your body settling into the pillowy cushions with a sigh as you stretched across it. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking tiredly, you wondered when Joel would be home, both eager for and dreading his arrival. Still mortified over nearly crashing his date and self-conscious about not fitting the mold of what he found attractive, you wondered what you’d even say to him when he walked through the door.

The pull of sleep too strong to fight, you submitted to the emotional exhaustion, dozing off until a gentle shake of your shoulder caused you to stir.

“Darlin’, go sleep in the spare room,” Joel murmured as you blinked your eyes open.

It took you a moment to come back to your senses, your body following his orders before your brain kicked back to life. He stepped back as you got up, one strong hand reaching out to hold you steady as you wobbled. You met his eyes as the haze of sleep began to clear. He gazed at you with such a soft look you trembled.

“You okay there?” he asked with a quiet laugh and your eyes flicked down to his mouth, catching the glint of something on his cheek, just above his beard. Focusing on that spot, it became clearer. A very distinct lipstick mark. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it.

Wrenching yourself from his gentle grasp, you slipped on your shoes and pulled your keys from your pocket.

Joel watched your every move, confused and clearly not wanting you to leave. “Hey, where are you going? Just take the spare room. You’re still half asleep.”

Shaking your head, you avoided looking at him. “Nah, Imma head home. G’night Joel, see ya Monday,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed for the door. Unable to help yourself as you wrenched the front door open, you added, “Might wanna go clean your face off.”

“What?” his baffled question echoed behind you as the door closed.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee@untamedheart81@anoverwhelmingdin@runningmom94@leilanixx@pedropascalfan221@lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115

[viviennevermillion]

*slides into your inbox because HSR requests are open*

Hey Vi! I was wondering if I could request some heacanons for Sampo, Blade, and your boy Luocha with a reader who likes to play with/run their hands through the boys hair? They all have such pretty hair and I want to play with it!

Anyway take your time of course, and I hope you're doing well! Please remember to take care of yourself!

playing with their hair

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: ryker, yayyy, thank you for sending in a request! you made me think about sampo and realize that he's the funniest fucking character in the entire game and so much fun to write for. i had a blast with his banner too, the song fits him so well 💀🩵

btw requests are open and if you guys would like to read more of my works, check my masterlist!

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: carried me with you — brandi carlile

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: sampo, blade, luocha

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: very slight angst in blade's (i'm so sorry, i'm trying, i promise)

Sampo loves when you play with his hair. He'd be 100% down for you trying ridiculous hairstyles on him but on a good day he'll put a pillow in your lap and puts his hands behind his head, sinking into the soft fabric. He closes his eyes when your fingertips start carding through his blue strands of hair. "This is the good life", he sighs and winks at you, "now all you'd need to do would be feeding me grapes like they do in the movies and things would be perfect." "Wait until I throw you off the couch", you shoot him a warning glare. "Hey, hey, I jest", he puts his hands up defensively and laughs.

"You know I'm lucky to have you", he takes your free hand into his and presses a kiss to your knuckles, "this is like we're straight out of a romantic piece of literature, don't you think?" You raised an eyebrow at him: "You're not exactly what I'd consider a romance novel protagonist."

He sighs. "True. I'm more like, the court jester who fell in love with the pretty royal heir", he reaches up to cup your cheek, caressing it gently with his fingertips. "And I love you for it", you laugh as he sits up to press a kiss to your lips. You bury your fingers in his hair whilst kissing back.

You take a deep breath and drift off into your own thoughts now that Sampo was quiet for a moment. A rare occurence, really.

As you enjoy this moment with your beloved, you think back to the chaos that was all over Belobog recently. "Hey, what do you think our friends from the Astral Express are doing now?", you wonder and Sampo sinks back into your lap again, resting his cheek against your stomach. "Maybe fighting a giant, strong lady with the help of a dragon, but what do I know?", he shrugs with a satisfied smile on his face. "Isn't it usually the other way around?", you raise an eyebrow. "It is, isn't it?", he puts a finger to his chin and chuckles.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. "You always have such an overactive imagination. You should write a book." "As much as I'd slay as an author, I'm just doomed by the narrative like the rest of us, darling."

Blade enjoys when you run your fingers through his hair. It's a sensation that momentarily distracts him from everything else that is going on in that busy, but tired mind of his; so it's well-appreciated.

He will not let you mess up his hair under any circumstance. Kafka calling him "Bladie", a terrible habit that rubbed off on you, was bad enough. He didn't need her and Silver Wolf to tease him about having a ponytail on top of his head with several braids going off from it, tied together with colorful hair ties.

Thankfully, you were sane enough not to attempt that.

But he does let you do a few nice hairstyles that look good on him; like a simple, long braid. He doesn't care for what he looks like after all these years of being alive but you seemed to find joy in it and it made his daily life easier sometimes to have his hair put together in a braid.

Sometimes when you sit behind him and braid his hair, you press a few teasing kisses to his neck. Unfortunately for his usually so serious demeanor, Blade is the most ticklish person you have ever met, so that's one of the only things that gets a laugh out of him; even if he didn't feel it emotionally. You brush a strand of his hair back, relishing in the sound he made so rarely; a slight tinge of sadness in your heart and a thought you didn't dare voice.

I wish I could see you laugh more... I'd do anything to make you happy.

He also lets you brush his hair every morning if you want to. His hair is so soft, as you have told him many times. He always wonders how something so simple could bring you so much joy; but he's glad that it does.

Luocha always takes good care of his hair; after all a professional appearance was important for a merchant. His hair is very soft and silky and you have a great time brushing and braiding it.

He teaches you how to do his signature hairstyle. It's quite difficult to do on his own so he appreciates that you're happy to help. This pretty much became a routine for the two of you in the morning.

Sometimes he'd try to get up at night to go to the bathroom and find you accidentally laying on his hair. He hisses an "ouch" under his breath, sometimes waking you up in the process. Once he's back in your arms, you massage his scalp and carefully run your fingers through his blond strands to make up for the painful accident.

In the morning, you tend to sit behind him and do his hair, often littering his neck and shoulders in the process. "Is this just an excuse for you to give me kisses?", he chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose you caught me", you sigh with a smile on your face and Luocha turns his head to pull you into a deep kiss that catches you off guard. You quickly melt into the gesture, closing your eyes and noting how pleasant the taste of his lips is. You presume he applies lip balm in the morning before you do his hair but you never actually saw him do it.

When he gets home after a long day, depending on what hairstyle you did for him, his scalp hurts sometimes when you undo his braid so he loves to rest his head in your lap and have you ease brush your fingers through his hair.

[arcielee]

To feel the rare before and after.

Image by the talented @kyloremus​

Paring: modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 900+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, smutty smut, overstimulation, p in v, spit play, pwp at its best (I hope). Author's Note: This title is the lyrics from The Drone Interlude by Sleep Walking Animals and this is my birthday present to the wonderful @annikin-im-panicin. She requested some Aemond smut and I thought to myself, “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Thank you @foxee-writes​ for being my beloved beta reader 💜 Dividers by @saradika​ 💜 Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @watercolorskyy​ @schniiipsel​ @sylas-the-grim​ @aemondx​ @fan-goddess​ @babygirlyofthevale​ @httpsdoll​ @theromanticegoist​ @hb8301​ 

You loved the feeling of his arms and how they wrapped around your waist, as he pulled you to straddle his lap. “One more for me, pretty girl,” and your skin raised with the breathless command he whispered against the nape of your neck, his lips feathering your pulse.

His large hands roamed your curves, settling on the softness of your hips with a firm hold and lining himself with your entrance once again. Aemond lifted his hips, simultaneously lowering you as he slowly sheathed his length into your velvet walls, with a delicious stretch still. 

You can only whine in response; your hold around his neck tightens, your body flushed against his chest as he continues his slow pace that bruises against that sweet spot within you. Stars burst with his each thrust, your body already blossoming from your prior releases: the sheen of sweat mixing with the slick between your thighs, the rose bloom spilling from your cheeks down to your neck and chest, your nipples pebbling with pleasure with his relentless rhythm. 

“Aemond,” you almost cried. “I can’t…”

“You can,” he hummed, his pace now unfaltering, his teeth grazing the junction of your neck to your shoulder. 

You shuddered in response; in truth, it was already curling at the base of your spine, his thrusts rekindling that coil in your lower abdomen, a fluttering pleasure that came in waves and touching every fiber of your being. You were breathless, relaxing your hold around his neck and falling back, your hands moving behind to grip his knees to keep yourself upright. 

His feet are firmly planted on the floor, seated on the bed’s edge. Aemond moved his hold, with one arm wrapping around your waist while his other hand pressed in the inside of your thigh, his thumb following the patch of curls before pressing against your pearl with his familiar touch. 

You are raw, tender, and already on the precipice of being overstimulated, and with his deliberate touch, you can feel your climax being ripped from you. It is without the same tensity of your last release, but with his added ministrations it elongates it in a way that is both painful and delicious. 

Aemond pulled you closer, groaning into your neck as your cunt clenches with your climax, his velvet tone whispering praises against your flushed skin–good girl. You melt against his chest, the sticky sweet touch of skin-to-skin, and you sigh sweetly with how he tightened his hold, pulling you closer still. 

When he pushed to stand, your legs crossed around his slender waist with a squeak of your surprise as he turned to face the bed, releasing his hold of you and allowing you to fall back against the sex soaked sheets. 

You propped yourself onto your elbows, watching his silver brows knit above his bicolored gaze that drinks in your every curve. You burned under his steady stare; there is an ethereal beauty about him, from the jut of his hips with his languid stance, the smooth planes of his chest and the Adonis belt that lined his lower abdomen, to how his hair clung and framed his sweat, aglow face, and the rose coloring that dusts his sharp features. 

Aemond kneeled onto the bed, each hand reaching to grasp around your ankles, and pulling you closer to him. You giggled from the sudden pull, your ass now pressing against his thighs, and you saw the hint of his smile as he moved the soles of your feet to press against his chest. You shivered when he turned his head, his lips pressing against the arc of your foot, and he then leaned over you, a curtain of silver, the soft tickle of his tresses against your bare chest, and his arms planting on each side of you, caging you against the mattress. 

You mewled pitifully as he moved his hips, the touch of his tip and how it almost glides against your silken folds before sinking into your warmth once again. 

“Aemond,” you begged and you moaned as he bottoms out, stretching you from within. 

He only hums again, a mixture of his acknowledgement and his own satisfaction from how well you fit around his cock. His grip dimpled the plushness of your thighs, a bracing hold for the snap of his hips against you. “Touch yourself,” his voice is low, demanding.

Your fingertips trailed from his chest to his jaw and his head dips to take them into his mouth, the tickle of his tongue with how it curls around each digit before you pull back. The spittle breaks away onto his chin and your fingers gently touch the tendered nub above his rhythmic in and out, above the suction of your swollen lips and the ring of white around the base of his cock.

Aemond watched you, enjoying the ripple of your supple curves with his each rut, the bounce of your breasts as his pace quickens, and your soft cry that accompanies your soft touch with how you circled your fingers intimately. 

He pulled back, quick to fist his length to completion with the pearly spill of his release across your stomach. There is a pause, a deep exhale before he gets up, disappearing into the bathroom. You can hear the faucet turn on for a moment, before he returns with a damp washcloth that was pleasantly warm to the touch. 

Aemond is thorough and he is gentle, wiping you clean before tossing it into the hamper. He then crawled beneath the covers, pulling you to follow, until your backside was flushed against his chest. 

He nuzzled into your neck, a soft kiss behind your ear with the whisper, “Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

arcie’s masterlist

[sugutoad]

— IN PAIN AND LOVE

For my beloved @coffeebooksrain18 . This is a little thank you for listening to me ramble about Myrielle and Aegon and always being so supportive. You are the Aemond lover to my Aegon. My Myrielle to your Aelys. And obviously, My Criston Cole to your Alicent. So please accept this little smutty one-shot for Aemond and Riley’s oc, Aelys Targayen (who will definitely appear if you read The Red Queen by @ashblooddragons as Daemon and Reader’s daughter).

Summary: Aelys was furious at Aemond for ruining everything from her gown to her promise to her best friends heart. When confronted, she wants to drown him in the river of pain she is suffocating in, but a simple kiss (and more) is all it takes to calm the Princess down. WARNINGS: swearing, anal sex, violent thoughts and threats (its Aelys, duh) obsessive behaviour, fingering etc.

  Aelys clenched her jaw, the tips of her fingers grazing against her wine-stained dress. It had been a beautiful beige dress, adorned in silver jewels bordering the deep v-line (that the Queen and High Septon raised a brow at in pure disappointment — at least they could have had some sort of humility to hide their true feelings in a room crowded by so many faces that would haunt Aelys in her dreams), the fabric clinging on each and every one of her curves. So rarely did she ever wear gowns that weren’t shades of red and when she did, it was stained in a wine, dark as blood as it trickled down her leg.

Stupid Aemond. 

 Aelys had specifically told him to not cause any sort of commotion and he promised. He fucking promised and he broke it as if she did not matter. As if her words held no effects over him. Though the halls were dim-lighted, Aelys found Myrielle Vallici. The golden hair girl looked at her for a split second, her brows furrowed in confusion. Her hands were curled up in small balls against her azure dress, red smudged on her lips (Myrielle never smudged red berries on her lips). And then she was gone like a phantom in the night and the halls were dark once again without her friend's golden silhouette. 

 

 A part of Aelys wanted to scoff. To scoff at herself. It had been Myrielle who wanted to be perfect because her Father would be present. She had begged Aelys to not do anything, fully knowing that the Targaryen girl always had some sort of tricks hidden behind innocent smiles and twinkling violet eyes.

Aelys was cross about her dress. 

Aelys was mad at Aemond breaking what he swore. 

But Aelys was furious at Aemond for making someone she holds close to her heart upset. 

  She felt her knees buckle. Myrielle could have gotten hurt by her father because of her. Did she do anything else to make people suffer? Or perhaps it was the lack of what she did that always hurt people. 

 A chuckle builds up in Aelys’s heart at the thoughts clouding her head, the sound becoming giggles and bordering hysteric cackles.   

  Why should she care? She was a Targaryen. She was a dragon rider. How people felt about her has never bothered her, but the way Myrielle looked at her twisted a knife in her guts. And now every step she took, a trail of blood would follow her. She stretched out her fingers, the tips coated in red wine from her dress (it sickened her stomach. It looked like blood, yet it smelled so sweet. So sweet and so sickening) and placed her fingers against the bricked wall. The familiar, cool touch followed her in every step. 

 

 She knew every corner, every ridge and cracks on these walls. She could hold on to them and they wouldn’t let her fall down. Not like how Aemond let her fall. Not like how she let Myrielle fall. Her fingers gripped on one of the bricks, her ring fingers slowly moving along its corner.

 She held in her breath as an arm slithered across her back, fiddling with a jewel near her bosom. Long fingers grasped her arm, intertwining with her own fingers. 

 Aemond was so close. His breath danced circles around her neck and she felt a sting as he gently sank his teeth around her skin, sucking until a red blossom would emerge and then he would water it with his own tears.  

“Aemond, stop,” She asked, trying to run away from his touch, but her body betrayed her and sank deeper and deeper into Aemond’s arm. “Please.”

  A simple ‘please’ is all that it takes Aelys to put the One-eyed Prince under her order. “You are mad, are you not?” Aemond had the nerve to ask such a question! Aelys turned back at him, baffled and took a few steps back, the shadows of the dark halls wrapping her in. 

“You think I’m mad?” She chuckled, haunting violet eyes wide open. Before Aemond could open his mouth to say anything, she interrupted him. “You ruined everything!” Aemond had no right to say she was mad. He fought with Rhaenyra’s brood of bastards, he spilled wine over her dress and he was why Myrielle was so upset. Myrielle with her soft heart and teary blue eyes was fucking upset because of stupid Aemond. 

 He let out a simple hum, the sound so low that it stirred something in Aelys’ heart, cocking his head to the side and gritting his teeth against one another softly, his eye downcast. Aelys wanted to roll her eyes at him. It appeared as if Aemond did not care and if he did, he sure wasn’t letting it out. 

 Aelys shut her eyes, trying to block out every thought in her head. Rage was not an emotion she was a stranger to. Rage was her domain as it was her fathers. Like Daemon, she honed it better than any knife, waiting to lunge at anybody. She let her nails sink into her palms, trying to grab anything, but the dagger settled near Aemond’s hip, clothed in a leather pouch with gold embroidered around.

“Aelys, darling, ‘twas a simple tribute,” His steps echoed in the silent hall and he stood mere inches away from her. She craned her neck up and…. Well he had always been beautiful. Silver hair cascaded down his back, pulled back and showing each and every feature of his face. His face had always been otherworldly to her, each feature angular and carefully structured by the Valyrian Gods. It wasn’t the blue sapphire he hid behind leather patch nor his father’s periwinkle eyes (Helaena had lilac eyes, Daeron had his mother’s soft brown eyes and Aegon — according to Myrielle — had eyes that were ‘glossy lavender eyes yet they seemed like some sort of shade of pink with a brown lining around’ her friend would end up sighing happily). But even though she was a dragon through and through (unlike Aemond and his siblings with their Andal Mother), he made her feel small with the way he would watch her. Watch and examine each and every one of her moves carefully. She was a dragon caught in a trap. 

“You are stirred up for nothing.”

 Although the rasp of his voice would cause Aelys’ knees to buckle, something stirred in her heart. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, playing with it as if she weighed so little (she felt little again). His other hand reached up and he placed her chin between two fingers, his leather gloves itching against her skin. He lifted up her face, his thumb gently running alongside her jaw. 

 And she felt red. She might have called Aemond her other half before, but he did not understand her. He did not know her. He did not have the fucking right to play with the strings of her hearts and act as if he had done nothing. As an instinct of her anger, her hand lunged for his dagger. The hilt was in her hand at last. It was lighter than she had expected, a slightly rough texture, but in perfect condition. She flicked the blade in her hand, swivelling on her heel and pushing Aemond back, hitting the cold wall. Aemond stayed calm under her touch, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She felt heat rise to her face. 

 Surely out of anger she thought in an attempt to think of anything else, but the cold hand placed on her back. She angled his dagger, placing it against his throat. She could go deeper until he would bleed. For him to be covered in red as she was seemed the only way that was deemed right in her eyes. But she couldn’t move an itch. Aemond had her laced in some sort of magic, his hand on her back, nails digging in her dress. A periwinkle eye stared back at him, and she could see his scar poking out his brown leather patch on his hollow cheeks. 

  He was a thing of beauty to her. A person who could harm so much yet love as much. A person who was blessed with both beauty and rage. Aemond’s finger went up to his neck, poking into the small distance between his dagger and neck and carefully held on to it. 

“I am sorry.”

 Aelys sucked in her breath at his comment. He was a liar just as she was. Perhaps it was their nature as humans who were cursed with Targayren blood to truly ruin everything. “You are not,” she hissed at him, her voice as sharp as a shard. “You are a fucking liar and I do not need you to say anything! I need- I need you to fucking keep your promise and stop saying sweet things to make me for-“

 He placed his lips on hers, not in the gentle manner she was used to, but this time Aemond kissed her roughly, devouring her whole. She was weak to none, but Aemond’s touch was as familiar and comforting as that of her Mother and Fathers. Her grip loosened on the hilt, Aemond hand intertwining with her and clawing on his dagger back before he let it drop to the floor. Aelys flung her arms around his neck, grabbing him in until he was a part of hers. Until he was hers and she was his. Aemond’s arm snakes around her waist, bringing her closer till she could breathe no more, her teats pressed against Aemond’s slender build. She let out a shaky breath, trying to let out a sound, as Aemond sank his teeth in her bottom bottoms, tugging on it before licking it once again. 

 Slender fingers delved in  her silver hair, tugging slightly. He held up her legs in his arms, letting her crumble in his touch. Aelys wanted to memorise the very print on his hand, his soft breath and the touch of his lips. He tasted like the wine Aegon forced him to drink earlier and she sucked and sucked on his lips until she was drunk with his touch. He held her gently now, as if she was the most frail thing ever and in that moment, she felt like a glass vase tipping off the table. But that softness only lasted a second before her back hit the wall. She wanted to rip Aemond open, to see his bleeding heart trickle down onto the floor. She wanted to see him bleeding and naked and hers. 

He wanted her to know that he was in control. 

 An unexpected whine leaves Aelys’ lips as he pulls himself away. “Do not leave.” She whispered softly to him. Aemond made her forget everything and he can not just leave her to be. Aelys knew it was not of his nature. Aemond closed his eye for a second. Aelys knew he was a sweet boy underneath all his nature. A man who was still a boy, listening to what she wanted. He snapped open his eye, a smirk playing across his lips.

“Beg.”

  Aelys’ eyes shot up at him. What a cruel joke. Aemond knew Aelys would never beg. She does not cry in front of others and only when she does, she denies the truth. She does not beg forgiveness from others. She was Aelys Targaryen, not some soft hearted girl swayed by a man’s touch or words. She stood up taller, her lips lingering near Aemond’s once again, but he only hovered. 

“I want you,” she breathed, begging him at last. The pleas almost felt foreign on her tongue. “Have me however you want, but do not hide yourself. Do not leave me. Please.”

 Aemond groaned at her words, a soft yet low sound from the back of his throat. His knuckles grazed Aelys’ cheek, so gently. Aemond’s behaviour at times still baffled Aelys, even though she had been his childhood playmate and the closest of his friends. He was always so gentle, yet he was so harsh. “Hmm, what should I do with you, ñuha jorrāeliarzy.” He craned his neck to the side, silver strands falling down his face. He licked his bottom tongue and Aelys held her breath. 

 His hand roamed down her leg, slowly while he kept his gaze at her. Slowly lifting her up, she wrapped it around Aemond’s waist, her hand digging in his hair. Aemond fiddled with her dress, the bottom white lace tangled in his fingers and his hand disappeared beneath her dress.

 Aelys let out an agonising sigh, her shoulders tensed as Aemond lazily stroked the heat of her flesh with a single finger before taking two of his fingers to open her fold. Aelys leaned against the cold wall as Aemond’s finger caressed her skin. Aemond stopped and she let her shoulders relax, the guilt of disappointment gnawing at her heart. 

 His free hand cupped her face once more and under the soft illuminating of the flickering light, his face once so hard, was soft and full of eagerness, a smirk, a smirk so unnoticed, but a smirk nonetheless plastered in his lips. “Tell me. Tell me how I should have you.” Aelys knew Aemond was not truly asking her, but simply toying around with her. 

 Aelys had Aemond before in the comfort of their bed, on his study table, the stables to speak of only a few, but everytime she was bare in his arms, she wanted him in every possible way. At her silence, she saw Aemond’s throat bob, as if he was scared of all the way he could have her and ruin her for all to see. She pressed a hand against his hand, the one editing at her fluttering entrance, and pressed tightly. “I want you… I want you to touch me.” Though a confident woman, she squirmed under his gaze, fair skin flushed pink at his touch. Aemond tilted his head, his middle finger tracing circles before sticking up his fingers and parting her. “I shall take you however you want, Ñuha zaldrītsos,” Aemond traced the skin, his slick finger moving forward before pulling out again. “I should have you kept here, locked in chains waiting for me to take you whenever I want.”

 Aelys bit her bottom lips to prevent any noise, a small smile on her face before nodding, her thighs trembling underneath. “Aemond, Aemond.” She couldn’t let his name stay hidden on her tongue once he added another finger, curling it toward himself. He thrusted deeper and Aelys threw back her head and cried in a feeling she still couldn’t quite describe. Pleasure was not the word for Aemond brought her so much more. Aemond pressed his head against her hers, the tip of his nose pushed down as it rested on her forehead before he kissed her forehead. “I shall tell you next time.” He huffed out something else, something like an apology, but not quite yet Aelys never heard a word, her back arched back. She wanted him. She needed him. 

 “My Aelys, may I?” His breath was as shaky as hers. She nodded, a bit too quickly, her hands fiddling with laces of  his breeches, undoing all that was tangled underneath. Aemond lifted up her second leg, both wrapped tightly around him, and she felt something hard nudge against her. She was still clothed fully, but underneath she was bare and flushed for Aemond to take. For Aemond to rip open and to let her be born again and he would take her again. And shall anyone see them, she shall gladly show them how Aemond belonged to her.

 Giving her only a moment, he rolled his hips into hers and she let out a hiss, throwing back her head. She held tighter as skin parted at his tip and he let out a groan. “Oh Gods,” He let out. “You take it so well, my love.” Aelys blinked back tears, her hands flung around his neck, bringing him as she could, only whimpering at Aemond’s words. Aemond was breathless, thrusting deeper into her. She rolled her hips slightly to match Aemond’s quicker tempo, her palms sweaty against his skin. 

“You were made for you, y’know,” He muttered in her shoulder, his teeth sinking in her shoulders once again, grating along her skin which was a constellation of red peonies. “No one else, but you.” 

 “Only yours.” She murmured in the silence. She was made for him. Perhaps when the Gods had created Aemond, they had taken his soul in half to give to another. To give to her and it with him where she is not a puzzle with her missing piece. Aelys let out a noise — somewhat of a mix between a moan and a whine when pressed himself in harder, his rhythmic actions almost now savage. Aelys cried out, her nails digging in Aemond’s neck and a metallic crimson coating the tips of her fingers.  

 Aelys’ eyes fluttered, her mouth agape as black dots filled her vision. Aemond grinded into her once more before heat blossomed from below. She hid her face in Aemond’s shoulder, refusing to let him see the crimson on her face. Aemond huffed a laugh, a wild glint in his eyes. “Gods, you are so perfect,” he stopped for a second before letting her go on the floor, his hands lacing back his breeches. “Do you forgive me?” 

“Yes.” She almost felt as if she was lying, he had not asked for her forgiveness, but he looked so hopeful at her that she couldn’t let the truth escape her lips. Fluffing down her dress, she looked up at him, still breathless, but with a smile covering her face. She traced a line down her husband’s chest, a sudden confidence blooming in her heart. “Shall we continue this…. My husband ?” She batted her lashes at him, bursting into little giggles at Aemond’s smirk as he tilted his head towards her.  Taking her hand into his, he smiled.

 “Of course, my wife.” 

  With each little step, she felt as if she was swinging and dancing in his arms. Reaching towards the halls that had been used, unlike the vacant one they had just been in, she fell into Aemond as servants rushed back and forth, the hallway a little maze of its own. And in the middle, was Myrielle, her face covered in her hands as she violently sobbed. 

 Aelys left Aemond, her heart beating so loud she swore that anyone could hear it even in this chaos. Holding her friend in her arms, Myrielle looked up at her, her once blue eyes now rimmed pink and red. Before Aelys could mutter anything to soothe Myrielle, the girl with the sun in her hair looked up at her, her voice trembling.

“Uncle Viserys is…” she hiccuped at the mention of the King. “Is dead.”

[forget-me-maybe]

What single track would you use to introduce your bg3 OC?

thank you for the tag @scandistar <3 this game was hard (how do i choose one song omg???) but also so much fun!!

🗣 Rules:

Pick 1 song for each OC!

Include a link to the song/artist/composer

You can add more than one OC (but no more than 3)

brief canon/lore (I'm a curious sort)

Tag people!

tags for: @redroomroaving @lizziemajestic @judasiskariot if you want to <3

(Note: Any fandom is welcome to join!! And please, don't forget to link to your fanfics so we can find them! It's time to shine, babes!)

my beloved tav from a change of heart who i have no screenshots of so you're getting a couple of picrews

picrew 1 and picrew 2

Tav/OC name: tavaxeni tumbledown Level: 12 (10 pre-canon) Race: tiefling Born: baldurian (tumbledown) Background: criminal/soldier Class: rogue thief/fighter multi class Alignment: chaotic neutral Love interest: no aradin Sworn enemy: happiness, it seems.

backstory short: growing up on the rugged outskirts of baldur's gate on her grandmother's small farm, she spent her childhood ditching school (she's really bad at reading and counting (go to school kids!!!)), roaming the streets, fighting with the brampton boys (probably didn't get killed because she was faster and better at hiding than them), nicking things off whoever looked like they could afford losing some gold, got thrown in jail a couple of times, got better at lock picking her way out of jail. joined a semi-legal mercenary band to "straighten herself up", sort of just ended up working a lot of security for the rich tossers that she loathes the most. cares for her people and the less fortunate and would probably be a folk hero is she didn't cut corners and made impulsive and stupid decisions.

i have a playlist for the fic, some are relationship songs and some are just for her. it was sooooo hard to choose one but this one's both vibe and a bit of lyrics.

don't look back into the sun - the libertines

Don't look back into the sun You've cast your pearls, but you're on the run And all the lies you said, who did you save?

...

They will never forgive you, but they won't let you go (let me go) She will never forgive you, but she won't let you go, oh no

(other honourable mentions: the fallen AND bite hard by franz ferdinand, take aim by kasabian, do me a favour by arctic monkeys, better in the dark by jordana & tv girl, do the right thing by d.i.d)

~*~*~*~*~*~

tav number 2! (or number one, truly, my golden child) from you keep showing up

(same picrew makers as above (and her hair should be a colder brown in the right one smh))

Tav/OC name: ester tavanthuriel Level: 12, 15 pre-canon Race: moon elf Born: evereska Background: noble Class: storm sorcerer Alignment: chaotic good (or chaotic whimsy as someone described her in a comment which i really liked) Love interest: raphael Sworn enemy: [redacted]

short backstory: as the second child of an evereskan noble family, she was born with both a silver spoon and the lucky feat. really, i mean it, spoiled rotten for a century!!! but as it is with second children, they have the purpose of being used in political marriages. now, tav's a free spirit, and getting tied down in marriage was just about the last thing she'd like to do with her life. thus, she postponed it through arguing she needed to pursue academia for a while and went to silvery moon. spent a couple of years there before fucked off and traveling the sword coast, spending a decade here and there (ran a potion shop in neverwinter, a restaurant in waterdeep, went to baldur's gate to open up a flower shop before getting snatched by the nautiloid), ignoring the letters and sendings from her family but still picking up the gold they sent her way (spoiled rotten, as i say. though that's kind of her parents way of showing love since they don't really know how to talk to each other without putting their own expectations on tav and making her lash out). and here we are!

i do not have a playlist for this fic or for tav so i had to think long and hard about this one... (technically it should be you keep showing up by drowners but it has nothing to do with them except i thought the title was fitting lol).

sprawl ii - arcade fire

now this one's a feeling, i can imagine her listening to this as a young elf in her room, wanting to see the world and what's beyond.

[thithesandofferings]

∆ Title∆ ALL FUN AND GAMES

∆ Characters∆ Vampire! Sephiroth x Huma!Reader

∆Tags∆: Dark fic. Kidnapping. Blood drinking. Noncon/Dubcon. Stockholm Syndrome. Manipulation. Oral (M! Receiving). Prey/Predator.

∆Authors Note∆ this one is a little darker than most of my writings. Commissioned work for @onewingedpuppet Thank you for being so kind and patient with me! Please enjoy

It's starts in your peripheral. Dark alleyways and creaking floors keep you awake for days. He's there. You know it. You're desperate at this point. You haven't slept in days, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. Silver hair blinks into your imagination. You're convinced it's no longer in your head. It's real. He's....real. And he wants you to kno it. Green slitted eyes crinkle in glee when shivers go down your back at his voice. In another circumstance you would've thought the voice was nice. In the back of your mind you admit to yourself that you may be in denial.

It takes one wrong turn for him to catch you. At this point you're tired of running. Shoved into his chest to make it seem like a beloved couple, you are trapped between his arms. He can smell your fear. He seems to revel in it with the hardness pressing into your lower stomach. The mans-or demon, you should say, teeth are sharp, too sharp. The glaze and you quiver, faced pressed into his chest as he tests his prey.

You're trying not to whimper, the tears falling even without you wanting them to. You're tired of being strong. Tired of running. You go limp and you feel the man preen. You hate that he's beautiful. Out of this world. Ethereal. Makes you want to feel secure in his tight arms. But their capable of breaking your ribs if you run, and you know it.

When you slump down weakened from adrenaline, that's when he takes a bite. Shushing and cooing at you as he tears your neck open. You couldnt even scream if you wanted to from the pain. Your body has been overloaded for weeks. You faint, right on the spot. The last thing you see is content eyes and dark red teeth.

You think he gets hard off your tears. Sephiroth, he told you to call him. "To have something to scream when you come". It angered you at first. He didn't look smug. It was expected. You're aware of his eyes that trail you. Bloodlust line his vision when he sees you scuttle back into bed, blood still dripping from your neck. It only makes him hungry again. He can't get enough of you.

"Are you ready for me again?" You shake your head no before he's finished with the question. Does not stop him from towards the pain and pulling your ankle. Making you squeal as you scramble to get away from him. You think in the back of your mind you may not get to.

"No no no wait please- you've already had enou-" you're cut off with a snarl and a hand around your throat.

"I've had enough? And when did you make that decision for me beauty? I'll have as much as I want until I drain you dry." He squeezes a little too hard as a reminder. As if you need any

"If you behave well enough I'll keep you as my blood bag pet. To drink and fuck at my pleasure". He throws you back on the bed with a grin that has you wanting to tighten your thighs. You can't let him see you like this.

You know it's a lose lose battle for you.

Because you want him. Even if it hurts when he bites, it's only a few seconds of pain before the pleasure endorphins engulf you and your weakened with pleasure before he's even touched you properly.

The touch of his red tongue sear your skin as it glides past your neck. You're achy and burning in more places than one. You want it to be over, but your mouth waters at his thick cock curved against his stomach. Red tip smacking wetly against his skin every time he moves. He's caught you looking more times than you can count.

"C'mere doll, open up" he startles you out of daze with his member right in front of your face, hovering over your eyes. He makes sure to pull your hair and stare when he runs his tip against your cheek, groaning with a jerk of his hips when your tears fall on it.

"That's right, cry a little more-make it wetter for me.

You'll need it." He grins as he grabs your jaw to force your mouth open. You have your feet clenched, doesn't hold for too long when he slaps you hard enough to shock and gasp. He makes you gag immediately before setting a harsh tempo.

"Look at me, there we go. I want to see how I'm making you feel with those pretty eyes." You immediately shut them in embarrassment at the thought of him getting off on your suffering. It just makes him chuckle and pull out of your throat to slap his dick across your cheek to get your attention.

"Im not in favor of repeating myself. If you would like to live, open your mouth- I don't need you alive for this part. " You do, in fact, want to live. You try hard to open your mouth wider and choke down the thickness, but there's nothing helping now big sephiroth is. He grabs the back of your neck to push you further into the base of his cock and holds you there. Waiting for the point until you can't breathe and your hitting him and crying harder- that's when he pulls you up.

It's a surprise and almost relief when he pulls out and comes on your face. Making sure you're tongue is held out so the last bit of his come can sit inside you.

You try not to gag at the thought of anything of his being inside of you.

You're surprised when you feel a damp towel wipe your eyes. You notice dully that it's...only the eyes. Your face is still soaked in his cum and he seems to want to keep it that way.

You scream in pain when he lifts you up into his lap. You're aching. It's been days of torture. Tired. You're so tired. But you still wrap your hand around his neck and play with his hair when he has you settled in.

He makes sure you're connected when you're this close. Positive to make sure his cock is nudged into your g-spot, moving and shifting until he hears you shift and moan and settles back down to drain you again.

"You've done well pet." They are soothing words, but something in them sounds wrong and makes you freeze.

"You have surely made time pass well for me, drained and sucked me dry like you were meant to. Oh, but that delicious taste of catastrophic fear in your veins makes me want to keep you...but alas" Before you can even process what's happening your torn body is ripping away from and running to the door.

An overwhelming amount of joy bursts through you as you run through the doors, there's hope yet.

"As fun as that was" Sephiroth grins "It's high time I stop playing with my food"

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

<<Previous Chapter <<

**Masterlist**

>>Next Chapter>>

Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: 'Then [they] runs like it's a race. Behind [their] back, [their] best mates laughed. And they nicknamed [them] "The Bolter".'

A/N: I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack.

Content Warning: Mentions of injury, illness, death and difficulties with food. I think that's everything. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. NOR DO I CLAIM THE PROPERTY OF TAYLOR SWIFT'S MUSIC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

=============================

'And [they like] the way it tastes...'

Love was not a language that Izzy Hands spoke fluently, the words were foreign on his tongue. Often murmured in the twilight hours, when his bedfellows were fast asleep. Or buried in an unmarked grave. In Edward's case, they had been uttered whilst staring directly down the barrel of a gun. No, no, Izzy was no wordsworth. His love was shown, not told. Be as that may, however, he was making a concious effort to lavish you in the sweetest of nothings. "You're not going to the fucking beach."

Okay, he was still a work in progress. "But, Iz, I'm losing my mind being stuck in these four walls." you sighed, perhaps a tad overdramatically but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Please?"

Though a seasoned pirate and a scoundrel to many, the sight of your forlorn gaze was enough to cause the First Mate's shoulders to slump slightly in defeat. He loathed saying 'no' to you, especially when he was more than understanding of your plight but he had to be reasonable in his decision-making. If he had deemed it safe enough, the man would have scooped you into his arms and carried you to the damned waterfront himself. "No, beach-" he started, quickly pressing a finger to your parted lips, as you prepared to argue your case further. "but! I'll help you walk down to the courtyard. I suppose some fresh air would do you some good." he sighed, hoping it would be a satisfactory compromise. While he wished to give you the stars and the moon, the shade-covered bench outside would have to suffice, until you where better.

'Taming a bear, making him care...'

The pure look of delight that overtook your features instantly dispelled any and all worries of disappointing you. "Ah! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you all but cheered. If you had been able to stand unaided, no doubt you would have been jumping for joy but then, had you been well enough for such displays of emotion, you would have been visiting the beach instead.

Izzy took note of the sparkle in your eyes at the thought of going outside. If he were the type to smile, he would have been beaming with amusement at your reaction. Instead, he allowed the corners of his mouth to upturn. Gaze softening with adoration. You had become quiet accustomed to the expression. "However," he interrupted your moment of joy, as he placed a hand on either of your shoulders, instantly capturing your attention. His tone changed to one of the utmost seriousness, though his regarding of you remained gentle. "you have to tell me as soon as you feel dizzy or nauseous, understood?"

Gods, the look of elation upon your drawn face, was enough to make his heart skip a beat. Making you happy really was like a drug to him. It had been the same when he had been entangled in whatever you could call his toxic cycle with Edward. Perhaps acts of service were his love language? At least he did not need to gut stab anyone to bring you joy.

'Watching him jump then pulling him under...'

At the sounding of his agreement, the grin you wore only widened, as you mock saluted the silver-haired pirate. "Yes, First Mate Hands, sir!"

Even with the shadowy figure of death threatening to darken your doorway, you still found the energy to exasperate your beloved. "Fucking hell." he muttered, though there was still a fondness present in his smirk.

====

'And at first blush, this is fate...'

"Okay, I hate to say it but..."

With eyes closed, you could not witness his sheepish expression firsthand. Instead, you just tried (and failed) to suppress a look of smug superiority. "Buuuuuut?"

"Maybe it was a good idea getting you outside."

"Told you!" you beamed, borderline bristling with glee. From your vantage point, you granted yourself a quick peak up at your beloved's face. "Awww, don't pout, Iz." you cooed, only serving to further the grumpy expression on Izzy's face.

"'M not pouting." the First Mate grumbled, his gaze shifting from you to focus on something in the near distance. Though his soured demeanor, his gentle ministrations of mindlessly playing with your linked fingers, never ceased for a second. "Yer making me soft, you know that?"

"Me? Nah. Can't corrupt the uncorruptable Israel Hands." a Cheshire Cat grin overtook your features, when your quip earned you a scoff of laughter from the pirate. With a slight stretch, not too dissimilar to that of a feline creature, you settled once back down more with a contented sigh. "The sun sure does feel good, though. Makes a nice change from the rain, huh?"

'[They've] been many places with men of many faces...'

Despite his life being predominently spent surrounded by water, the silver-haired pirate was incredibly fond of the scorching sunshine. It made completing chores a hell of a lot more difficult but being the early riser he was, there was a certain kind of appreciative calm that the morning rays brought, whenever he rose for his daybreak shifts. Just him, the sun and sea. Izzy could never tire of the golden rays against the azure backdrop. Now with you in the mix, the First Mate had to note how rather fetching you looked, bathed in the amber light. "Anything is better than that fucking storm."

The conversation quickly lapsed into a thoughtful silence, as you both counted your lucky stars and thanked the multiple heavens, that your feet had once more found dry land. The fishes would have to sleep sans your corpses for another moon cycle. Speaking of the sea, you thought... "Have either of the Captains mentioned when we'll be setting sail again?"

"They've not told me anything, no. Doubt it'll be anytime soon. Gotta wait and see if we've got a mutiny on our hands first."

"A mutiny?"

"Ah, Edward is just bring a paranoid twat. Thinks the crew's going turn on him because of, well, what happened with Frenchie and the crew shortages on deck."

"Have the crew said anything about ousting him as Co-Captain?"

"'Course not. Like I said, it's just him making something out of nothing."

'First, they're off to the races.

And [they're] laughing drawin' aces.

But, none of it is changin'.

That the chariot is waitin'.'

====

"Iz, I think the world is broken. It's spinning too fast."

"The dizziness'll pass once you've had a-" famous last words. "Shit." Before you could vomit all over yourself and the comforter, the silver-haired pirate was quick to retrieve the borrowed mixing bowl, that had become your personal sick bucket.

"Cheers." you replied, weakly. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you truly felt disgusting but hey, at least this convinced you of one thing. Izzy must have been really fond you of, if he was willing to stick around, while you were vomiting your guts up into a bucket. The man did not even flinch, just instinctively washed your face and hands with a damp cloth. "Thanks." you murmured again in appreciation, sighing at the cooling sensation against your feverish brow.

Hand placed against your forehead, the First Mate frowned at your elevated temperature. True, you had been out in the sun but still, you were too warm for his liking. "I think we might need to call for the doctor again."

'All [their] fuckin' lives..."

"It's probably nothing. I just overdid it." you grumbled, wanting nothing more than for the doctor to never darken the doorway again. Memories of his previous visit still haunted you. The pain of your wound being drained, caused your stomach to twist and tighten into a knot or maybe that was just-

Izzy was already waiting with the bucket, before you could even begin to register the next dry heave that wracked your body. You had already expelled what little food and water you had been managing to keep down up until now. The bucket at this point was just a formality. You were coughing up nothing but your final shread of dignity.

"You're okay." your beloved rubbed your back, as you remained hunched over. Tears streaked your face, as you wheezily drew breath, inbetween the onslaught of intense nausea. "I'm here." Izzy reassured you, in a softened tone that was reserved for you and you alone.

'Flashed before [their] eyes..."

The frantic knocking at the door, only served to disrupt the fleeting moment of peace and guaranteed to sour Izzy's mood. "Fuck off!" he yelled, hoping your unwelcome visitor would kindly piss off and leave you both alone.

"It's me." the muffled voice of your shared co-captain called out, waiting patiently to be invited in.

"Oh, in that case...fuck off!" your beloved repeated his earlier dismissal but much to his annoyance, the door creaked open, to reveal an extremely weary Edward, which instantly had the First Mate on edge. "What is it?" he barked but even without any verbal confirmation, Izzy knew just exactly what the other man was going to ask of him. "No." he said with an air of finality, knowing full well that his refusal would be ignored. Boundaries between the two men had always been blurred beyond the point of salvation.

"Iz-" Ed pleaded, desperate for his second in command's help. Iz had always gotten him out of trouble, cleared up his messes. This time was no different.

"(Y/N) needs me-"

"-A decision's been made."

"I don't have time for this-"

"-They want me out."

He did not fucking need this. Not now, not ever. In the past, Izzy would have immediately leapt into action and done anything within his power to right the wrongs of his captain but times had changed. Edward had Stede to share the burden of traumatising an entire crew. Izzy had you to focus on. Too many times had he abandoned his post of remaining by your side. Your time was running out and Izzy wanted to enjoy every second of the Y/N show, while it was still in town. He was no fool, he recognised a dire situation when he saw one. Nothing the doctor did made you any better. It...it was only a matter of when you would- "I can't help you right now, Edward. So, just kindly fuck off, will you?" he all but pleaded. Izzy would have gotten on his fucking knees and begged, if it meant he would be left alone in peace.

'(And [they] realized)'

"Go." your insistance cut through their bickering cleaner than any sword the First Mate had ever wielded.

The single utterance had Izzy lost in a state of despair. You had no idea the kind of heartache your agreement was causing the silver-haired pirate. If you needed him as badly as he needed you, then why on earth were you pushing him away? "Y/N-"

"I'll be okay, Izzy. Go and stop the mutiny." you pleaded, your gaze devoid of any desperation for him to stay rooted to your side. Under different circumstances, Izzy might have felt wounded at your insistence for him to leave your presence but this was a unique situation. The harmony of your chosen family hung in the balance and it was down to him- apparently- to keep the peace. "That's what they've voted for, right?" you questioned the once formidable pirate.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. They want me removed as co-captain."

Attention now refocused on your beloved, you dared to reach for his hand. PDA was not something you assumed the First Mate would be all that comfortable with but desperate times called for desperate measures and miracuously, he did not pull away from your touch. "Talk some sense into them, Izzy. They'll listen to you."

The stars and moon- had he not vowed to literally tear the heavens apart for you only some celestial cycles ago? Now, here he was, denying you the one thing you truly wanted. Your loved ones not to turn against one another. "They can all go to hell. I'm not leaving you."

"I'll stay with them." Edward's offer was not the vote of confidence he thought it was but hey, you thought, at least Izzy would know you were in safe hands. Or...just hands...at least.

"Oh, would you look at that?" you mustered a grim looking grin, as your skin turned a familuar shade of green. "Problem solv-" you inopportune dry heave had your beloved and co-captain wincing in unison.

'It feels like the time..."

Fuck it all to hell, was the silver-haired pirate's final thought, when he finally said, "Call for a doctor." Izzy huffed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You better take good fucking care of them. I swear, on your golden-haired, twat of a boyfriend's life, Edward-"

"I promise you, Iz. They'll be okay with me. I learnt from the best remember?"

If there waa anything Izzy felt further from in that moment, it was being 'the best' at anything. So far, all the First Mate could think about, was his never-ending list of fuck ups and ways he had furthered your suffering. Glancing passed his potentially soon-to-be, former captain, Izzy took in you hunched and heaving form. He did not want to leave your side, he had made that mistake once before and yet, you had urged him to go. To stop your family from tearing itself apart because that's what the crew were to you, family. You loved them and Izzy loved you. So, on that principle alone, he would do as you had pleaded. "Fucking hell." he grumbled, was he strode across the room to hastily place a kiss to the top of your head, before exiting your shared space. A man of begrudged determination.

'[They] fell through the ice.'

[grossdyke]

i’ve arivved limo style to invite you in and have a convo about mcg. please do come in. my most esteemed mcg scholar. i have no idea how to spell that

upon reading your most recent fic i was most intrigued by your take on our beloved minerva m. mcgonagall (idk what her middle name is i like m) because you took her in a completely different direction then i did and i am actually fucking obsessed with it. where you see her as more masc leaning im over here in hyperfem-domme-with-a-riding-crop land but i love that both versions of her that we’ve manifested have that same core being that makes her mc-fucking-g. you understand, of course.

and now, we mustdiscuss mcg with a belly button piercing. because idk how old you see her in like “present day” (like in my mcj fic she’s in her mid 60s i think, at least to me but i left it open for interp) but i think miss mcg was absolutely out there on the town (the hamptons boardwalk, circa 1960) looking hot as hell in a skimp bikini and giant audrey hepburn-esque sunglasses and her humongus navel piercing, a minx in the flesh. and its so sad james nor rita couldve been there to admire it.

(ive actually been dying to pick your brain about your mcg since i read your rita fic because she is SO so very. tjere are no words to describe how much i want her. i need to know your every thoufht)

i am enthusiastically and being very suave as i step into this limo of yours. thank you for inviting me im very glad we can have this important meeting

first off. minerva m. mcgonagall sounds so unbelievably sexy. i wholeheartedly agree. i don’t know why margaret entered my brain immediately but minerva margaret mcgonagall has a nice ring to it……. sounds very Esteemed.

and yeah. to me she’s always been the shane masc type dyke standing at the front of riots, having freaky queer friends, never settled down because she has massive commitment issues. her other lesbian friends are married by now but she just never did.. she got her degree and fucked around. in my ritaminerva fic i picture her being between 57-59 and rita as 26-28

however. let me tell you. your femme dom minerva has been on! my! mind! she makes me a little insane. whenever i read your mcj i picture them in a 50s film with butch james and older femme minerva. they’re so unbelievably delicious to me. femdom minerva i want you so bad. and MID SIXTIES…….. ive been wondering and pondering over this. that’s so fucking sexy i need a minute

and yes of course i understand. we’re the minerva understanders with our different takes on her character and i am so deeply obsessed with yours

and yes, to the point being minerva’s belly button piercing. minerva with her hepburn swagger and tight bikinis and just a huge shimmering belly button piercing…… what an absolute Vision. i’m imagining this is a surprise to anyone who would sleep with her now that she’s in her mid sixties. like im picturing james figuring this out and her reaction. i would literally short circuit entirely if i was her.. and just imagining her when she was younger.. turning heads on the beach in her skimpy bikini and loud laugh and the jewels in her navel. i would be Staring.

so for my minerva. she’s in her late 50s and wears waistcoats and patterned suits. she wears a lot of silver jewelry. lots of rings and a modest silver chain around her neck. her hair is short and graying and she wears it in a small bun every day at the university. i think my minerva would’ve impulsively gotten a belly button piercing when she was like 19 and one of her friends did it for her (who works as a piercer today). they were maybe a little high and minerva woke up the next day and just. never took it out. it’s one of those simple belly button piercings. just plain silver piercing. she wears the same one always until she feels she should change it. she has had a few with different colored stones (i dont know if thats what its called..) before. black, green and red. she likes to keep it simple but she doesn’t want to take it out. i feel like she took it out at some point when she turned 30+ something because she felt she was too old for it but then she found a piercing lying around her house when she was around 44 and though ’i should see if it still goes in’ <— literally what i did last year. i hadn’t worn a belly button piercing since i was 17 and then i spontaneously bought one because i was curious and it still went in ahdjfjskf.

however. the body tries to reject piercings right. so i imagine she can’t wear the ’normal’ piercings anymore. they’re too heavy and the skin is too thin (???) now. so……… im very much thinking about her getting one of those belly button rings. she reaches 50 and has been wearing one since she put it back in…… and now she’s attached again. so she buys a belly button ring. and just keeps it. which is a vision that makes me salivate…. minerva i Want you.

im having prophetic visions about rita seeing it for the first time….. and just losing her mind. because to me rita is very heavily femme but she doesn’t really have piercings or tattoos. she has the usual pair of earrings and thats it. she wears big earrings, flashy and elegant. but the professor has atleast 6 piercings in her ears even if she’s only wearing two small silver rings these days. and then rita sees the belly button ring and her immediate impulsive is to get it between her teeth

incidentally. this has also made me consider minerva and tattoos. i think she wouldve gotten a few dumb ones in her youth. maybe even a sleezy tramp stamp that says ’STUD!’ or something….. i’m also having visions of her with one of those 90s dykey tattoos that alice has in the l word

WHICH THE ACTRESS HAS SINCE REMOVED. a travesty to me. either way. the thought of minerva with faded tattoes from her youth…… im having thoughts

either way. please i would love to know your every thought about femme minerva and her belly button piercing. she’s living in my mind and im becoming obsessed with her… femdom minerva in her mid sixties i want you so bad. i want to know everything about her and her youth… what kinds of piercings… how often does she change them… does she match them with her outfits……. or with her underwear…. the way it dangles when she walks i am Weak.

(im so happy you sent this ask because ive been DYING to discuss minerva with you. whenever you post about her or mcj i am stopping everything and Reading……..)

[narrators-journal]

Perharps when the sun god Tatsuya crushing on the moon god Jun when they first meet where he’s charmed by Juns sass and Jun flirts back

This one might be a lil rough, but I damn near woke up out of sleep to write it before I completely lost the eloquence lol. I hope this is a coherent read, and that you enjoy it. I took your prompt and I just fucking RAN with it, so it was a lot of fun to write. I know it’s only been a max of two asks so far, but I’m having a blast with this au lol, just like I did with the King leo au!

Also, funfact, I had to look up a lot of shit for this single scenario, like night-blooming flowers, pavilions, charcuterie, and even how to tie a tie lol. So, I REALLY hope the care shows through and this isn’t a horrible mess <3

Beneath the watchful eye of the silver moon, the air in the massive marble pavilion vibrated with conversation and power simultaneously. All thanks to the small army of gods that had gathered there for yet another party.

Dionysus poured wine from his endless goblet into Aphrodite’s mouth as they danced together to the satyr band, no care given to how the maddening beverage might stain their clothes, Artemis wrestled with her twin in the well-kept grass of the moon-drenched park, and Zeus danced and flirt with a lovely minor deity with sun-blonde hair and sky blue eyes. All while the less party-inclined gods stuck more to the edges of the pavilion. Like Hephaestus, who leaned on a sturdy cane decorated with the same intricate carvings that adorned his beloved wife’s golden armbands and pendant necklace to get the weight off of his prosthetic leg, or Hades, who stood by the long table of offered charcuterie boards and hors d’oeurvres with his lily-decorated wife. Both were dressed in elegant blacks and grays as if they wore smoke or shadows.

That was where a tall, well-tanned brunette found himself. Awkwardly leaned against one of the cold marble pillars in a deep red suit with some champagne in a dainty flute and a tie decorated with golden sun outlines draped over his shoulders while he watched his now-fellow gods socialize and celebrate all of the free time they’d been granted. Is my presence really needed here? He asked himself as he feigned a sip of his drink. This isn’t even happening during my period of time, and Apollo’s here too. I’m redundant. Even though, regardless of his complaints, the tall brunette did nothing but watch as Poseidon and Zeus boasted and showed off to try and impress that same blonde goddess from earlier.

At least, until the sudden collision of a body tore his attention away from them to meet a pair of dark eyes that stared up at him with a cute smile on the man’s lips. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to crash into you like that, I’m so clumsy tonight.” The new man said, though his eyes danced with playful shades of purple and blue so that the new god of the sun found himself entranced by the dance of hues and twinkle of starlight. “H-huh?” He managed once he’d blinked himself free of the spell. “I was just apologizing for bumping into you, it’s no worries. What’s your name, handsome? I haven’t seen you around before.” He hummed, and the god very much heard him, because he was quickly captivated by how peaceful the ravenette’s voice was. Like a sleepy night’s breeze.

Though, if that didn’t capture the brunette’s attention, something else about his new companion was sure to. Like the silky sheen of the obsidian hair that fell over one of his eyes, barely held back at all by the silver crescent moon pin tucked into his hair, or the richly midnight, air-light fabric that drifted so scandalously around the middle of his thigh, or the nocturnally pale complexion of his porcelain smooth skin.

So, once again, all the sun god could wrangle from his scattered, hormone-infested brain to answer him was another thoughtless, “Huh?” as his mouth hung open like he forgot how to shut it. Thankfully, though, the deity seemed to be aware of exactly why the new god struggled so much because he simply giggled. “I asked what your name was, pretty boy. Surely you have at least that much in your head still, right?” He teased with a mischievous smile playing at his lips like the heat that flooded the sun god’s cheeks. Which, at that moment, he was happy was as tanned as they were. “Oh! I-I do. It’s...I-it’s Apollo.” Ah! Quit acting like a 25-year-old virgin! “Oh, no no, I meant your name, handsome. Not your occupational name.” The ravenette giggled, which did not help the brunette’s brain cells. “O-oh, um, Tatsuya? I was named Tatsuya Suou before I became a god.” “Oo, that’s a neat name! You can call me Jun, okay?” Jun chirped while the tall brunette blinked dumbly, “Okay, but what’s your- What’s your other name then?” He asked, but the god simply pat the arm he’d at some point captured with his own, “Trust me, honeysuckle, you and I aren’t going to have a professional enough relationship for you to worry about that.” He assured before he plucked the flute of champagne out of Tatsuya’s hand and sipped from it before it could hit the floor. And, just like that, the brunette felt as if he’d fallen down a flight of stairs. Each pet name, smirk, playful word, or brush from the dark-haired deity a new step to bash the flirtation into the sun god. “Oh, by the way, why is your tie undone?” Jun asked abruptly, Tatsuya’s hand swiftly lifted to the silky fabric that he’d long since given up on wearing properly. “U-um, I...I couldn’t figure out how to tie it, and my mentor refused to let me wear a clip-on. He said it would’ve been cheap.” He explained, unable to meet those beautiful eyes in a sudden wave of shame. But, the ravenette didn’t tease him for it, he simply pulled the crimson tie into its proper place beneath the collar of his button-up. “You should get someone who can do it for you then,” he suggested easily, his thick lashes fluttered sweetly up at the god as if to fan the flames in his cheeks more. “G-god you’re very...aggressive, y’know.” He chuckled, only to get gently swatted with the longer, wider part of the sun-patterned tie when Jun folded it over the other half. “You say that as if you’ve seen me be aggressive.” “I meant with the flirting.” He clarified, despite the playfully knowing glint of starlight in Jun’s eyes. Which got him an eyebrow raised instead, “Do you have an issue with my flirting?” “No!” Oh god, that was too quick. Fuck, why the fuck do I turn into a bumbling idiot in these situations? Tatsuya lamented in his head as his face surely burned enough to be visible by now. “I-I mean, not at all. You’re just very open about it, I thought flirting was more subtle, y’know?”

While he spoke, Jun tightened the fabric around his throat and smoothed his collar over it, a small smile on his lips as he hummed, “Well, considering you barely managed to tell me your name, I didn’t think subtlety was the right method for you.” “Okay, but why even bother?” Tatsuya asked, and the other god snorted, “I was kinda bored of the party, so I figured I’d come say hello to the newbie who’s gonna be balancing me out from now on.” And, before The brunette could get out another awkward question, Jun pulled his tie just a bit too tight. “Don’t worry though, honeysuckle. All you’ve gotta do is entertain me for a while longer. And, if you do a good enough job, I’ll show you how I make the sunrise.~”

Just like that, all complex thoughts shot southward in the new sun god. Any later taunts or prods from his mentor or fellow gods were a worthy price to pay at that moment. At some point, Apollo had warned him that deities who worked with the night had a tendency to be some variety of deranged or deceptive, and were usually a headache to get tangled with. Still, Tatsuya couldn’t make himself care about that fact when his eyes met those hypnotic pools once more. “Y-yeah, okay. I can do that for you.”

[sailorshadzter]

https://www.tumblr.com/jonnelsansa/722513942441754624/imagine-if-instead-of-aegonys-pathetic-sex-scene?source=share here is my prompt <3

i realize only now that ive kind of fucked up the timelines???

so uh.... lets pretend i didnt lol

also its softer than you might have intended it to be. but i enjoyed this prompt a lot!!! so thank you!!! <3

send me prompts

He’s falling, faster and faster, into a dream of the past. 

Memories all around him, ones that do not belong to him, but ones which paint a picture for him that he should have seen coming all along. 

In another room, she stands just before him, just out of reach, yet somehow just within. “Sansa…” Her name on his lips, it sends chills down her spine. He wonders just how many times they would be in this same place before it became something it always should have been, something they both wanted, but something they could never have. He’s been away all these long weeks and he’s thought of little else beyond her- every waking thought, every dream, always full of her. She smiles, head tilting, red hair a waterfall across a shoulder; she’s beyond perfect, beyond anything he’s ever wanted, ever deserved. 

“... one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever…” There are no cheers as the silver-haired groom leans in to tenderly kiss the woman he stands before, a woman who he recognizes even though they’ve never before met. He sees in her the sisters he loves- Arya, in color and spirit, Sansa in grace and build. It’s his aunt Lyanna, the beloved sister of his father, the one who died far too young. She’s smiling as she draws back, the man’s hands cupping her cheeks as they stare into one another’s eyes, as if there wasn’t another soul around them.

If the silvery hair wasn’t enough of a giveaway, it’s the colors of his clothing that tell him all he needs to know. This man was Rhaegar Targaryen and this was not a kidnapping, but rather, a marriage of love. True love. 

Every moment without him… It’s been a long and lonely road, his absence forever in the back of her mind. Everything was a reminder of him- the desk where he’d sit on the edge, leaning in to talk with her. The soft furs of his bed, somehow far more comforting than hers ever could be. The warmth of his touch when she’s had another nightmare… She takes a single step closer to where he stands, the gap between them all but a hairsbreadth. “Jon…” His name is soft upon her lips, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. They’ve been here before, of course, time and time again. She can’t help but to wonder which time will be the last. 

He’s the first one to reach out, all so his fingertips can trace the soft curve of her cheek, ivory skin warm beneath his touch. All he wants is to take this a step further, to take her into his arms and hold her- not as a bastard brother might hold his sister, but as a man holds the woman he loves. Jon knows it’s wrong, was he no better than Lannister scum? But… He cannot help it, cannot stop it. The feelings course through him each and every day, the warmth of her presence, it all brings him a sense of peace he can never put to words. A sense of peace he never wants to lose, never wants to let go of, no matter what the world around them might say. 

This was where she’s longed to be all this time, all these weeks without him. Now that he’s returned, she’s not certain she can ever let him go again. “Don’t go…” She whispers and he lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’s even been holding in. That’s when he opens his arms and she sinks into his touch, knowing there was nowhere else she wanted to stay.

The dream changes again and he knows he stands in Dorne. 

There is his father, younger than Robb or Jon, rushing up the stairs of the stone tower, following after the screams from within. When he follows after, he comes into a blood soaked room, the only inhabitants his father, a maid, and a woman he once again recognizes as the aunt lost to death. “Ned… Is that you…?” Her weakened voice breaks the silence as Ned Stark sinks to the floor beside her bed, uncaring of the blood that stains his knees and hands. “It’s not a dream?” Lyanna asks tearfully, her quivering lips curving with a smile at the sight of her big brother. 

“It’s not a dream, I’m here,” his father’s voice is not as he will come to know, but young, full of worry. 

Their exchange is heartfelt and sorrowful, their pain palpable. Bran watches from where he stands as the single maid brings the baby close, offering him to Ned without a single word. Somehow, someway, Bran knows what’s happening before Lyanna speaks again. “His name… Is Aegon Targaryen.” She cries softly, looking into the face of the son she will never get to know. “Protect him Ned, please… Robert will kill him if he finds out…” She whispers, weakening, tears wetting her cheeks. “Promise me, Ned…” It’s all she can say now, over and over again as she sinks further and further into darkness. “Promise me…” 

Ned nods, a single tear escaping; it would be his greatest promise of them all. 

He knows they cannot do this.

“Sansa… I…” He murmurs into her hair, breathing in her ever familiar scent, finding comfort in it, even now. Somehow, she knows, she understands, as she always does, for she’s the one who pulls away, knowing perhaps as well as he did what would certainly follow if she didn’t. It was all he wanted, but he knows that it can never be, will never be. Only in the sweetest dream could she be his as he wished. 

“The first meeting is early tomorrow,” she reminds him softly and he blinks, but smiles, a chuckle escaping as he gives a single nod. Tomorrow, everything they’ve worked for, everything that Jon has fought for, would finally begin to pan out. The alliance he’s sought, the fruit of his labor, will all come to a head tomorrow with the first meeting between Winterfell and the dragon queen. “You should sleep,” she goes on, thinking of the many sleepless nights he’s surely endured over these last few weeks, for had she not experienced them herself?

Jon nods, but even when he turns to go, he hesitates. 

Somehow, despite it all, he cannot bring himself to go. “Good night,” she whispers, stronger than he ever could be, and he knows… He has to go. And so he leans in, tenderly brushing a kiss against the top of her head, wishing with all of his heart that it might be her lips. And then… He’s gone, leaving her to sink into the nearest chair, her sorrow falling from her eyes faster than she can wipe them away.

Outside her door, Jon curses, wishing it didn’t have to be this way.

[takaraphoenix]

Oooooohhhhhh a prompt game 😍

Maybe if I read something lovely from my beloved Fee I'll have more energy to write my own prompts 💕 Can I get 5 with Nicercy? Pretty please with cherry on top? (Except I get the cherry too, because you don't like it if I remember correctly)

5. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know you’re not okay.”

(Thank you for the prompt, Gennie! I am KEEPING the cherry though xP <3)

--

Nico was sitting alone on the rooftop of his cabin, his legs drawn up against his chest as the cold early autumn wind bit at his skin and tugged on his hair. The night was pitch-black, storm-clouds darkening the night sky and hiding the moon and the stars. But the storm wasn’t ready to break just yet. Only harsh wind and darkness, no rumbling, no rain. Nico wouldn’t mind the rain right now.

“Hey.”

Mh. The rain. Nico tilted his head to look over at Percy, climbing up onto the rooftop to join him. There was always something very piercing to Percy Jackson’s eyes. Sometimes, it did feel like walking into a cold rain shower, to be looked at by the son of Poseidon. His hair was messy, messier than usual, that is. A sign he hadn’t slept and just been tossing and turning.

“What do you want, Jackson?” Nico put as much annoyed exhaustion into his voice as possible.

“I saw you up here and I figured I’d… check on you. It’s late, you know.”

“I’m fine,” there was a slight edge to his words.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know you’re not okay,” if Nico’s words had had an edge, then Percy’s were cutting cold like autumn rain. “It’s late at night and you’re sitting on your rooftop in a shirt and boxers, staring into the night sky.”

The thing about Nico was that he wasn’t very easily cut down tough. No, he looked at Percy and held his gaze, as sharp and unfaltering as the son of Poseidon. He knew why children of the Big Three often led to great wars when they faced off. Stubborn and strong.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Nico’s voice was cold. “It’s late at night and you climbed onto my rooftop to sit here, with me, instead of laying in your own bed, sleeping peacefully. You’re not okay either.”

If Percy was autumn rain, then Nico was the shadows at midnight. Terrifying and frightening, filled with mysteries one didn’t dare to imagine, and endlessly deep. Percy stared at him in angry defiance yet without any words to counter him. Long moments stretched on as they stared at each other, before Percy grunted and sat down next to Nico, stubbornly staring ahead instead of looking at the son of Hades and his midnight dark eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul.

“So what,” Percy huffed. “Maybe I’m not okay either. Maybe we’re both not okay. Maybe two wars fucked us both up, in our own way. Maybe…” Percy’s voice softened. “Maybe I thought it’d be nice to not be okay together, instead of alone.”

Silver light illuminated Percy as the clouds gave just a little way for the moon, making him shine more beautiful than Nico had ever seen him, making his eyes look so bright and honest and vulnerable. Instead of a verbal answer, Nico simply nodded. The clouds moved again, covering the moon and leaving Nico and Percy in blissful darkness once more. There was anonymity to the darkness, and Nico had always much preferred it to the light.

Percy accepted the silent answer and turned away from him again. The wind around them picked up more, and without knowing which of them moved – or if it were both of them – they found themselves sitting much closer. Arms and shoulders touching as they leaned against each other in the cold and in the dark. Their eyes were trained on the dark clouds above, what little they could make out at least. Quietly watching, waiting for the storm to break.

“Maybe,” Nico’s voice was a whisper carried by the wind. “Maybe I’m not okay.”

Percy’s hand reached out and Nico moved his own arms away from where he had them wrapped around his own knees before, instead reaching for Percy’s hand too. There was only a small space between their fingers. Nico’s heart was racing and he could no longer tell if the thundering was the rush of his blood in his ears, or if the storm had finally broken. And then their fingers touched.

“And maybe I’d be… more okay… if we were not okay together,” Nico continued after a beat.

They’d both not been okay in a very, very long time. So many things had torn them down over the years, chipped away on them, leaving them broken. Broken in very different ways, yet so similar. In a manner maybe nobody else could ever understand, not even their friends.

“Let’s be not okay together,” Percy whispered, a crooked smile on his lips.

Nico nodded, a jerky motion, his eyes fixated on Percy’s eyes. Wandering down, over the curve of his nose and landing on pink lips. Lips Nico had stared at so often over the years. He startled when something ice-cold hit his own lips. His tongue darted out, licking the rain off. He was acutely aware of the way Percy stared at the motion. Nico watched the rain land on Percy’s face, running down his his cheeks in a manner that looked like tears. Maybe they were. Maybe every time it rained at Camp Half-Blood, it was a manifestation of Percy Jackson’s unshed tears.

He couldn’t say which one of them had moved first, he only knew that Percy’s lips tasted salty – like sea-water, or like tears, who was to say. And he knew that he liked that taste, liked that softness. His hand reached out to grasp Percy’s neck, to pull him closer and closer. To never let go.

Percy’s own fingers entangled in Nico’s curls and in Nico’s shirt, clinging onto him with a similar need to never let go. To never be not okay alone again. Their kiss went on for what felt like hours and Nico was fairly sure he forgot how to breath along the way. Yet at one point the need for air broke them apart after all and Nico was treated to the view of Percy, breathless and flushed and with half-lid eyes, staring at Nico like he was the only constant in an ever-changing and crumbling world. The rain made his hair and clothes cling to him and the cold of it caused their breath to puff visibly between them, even in this darkness. In that moment, Nico thought he never wanted to see anything else. He could live in this moment forever.

“It’s cold,” Percy whispered, unsure why he stated the obvious.

“Yeah,” Nico agreed. “And dark.”

Percy blinked a couple of times, as though reality was only just catching up with him. He looked around, watching the air whip down onto the ground, the wind tearing on the trees – or rather, watching the shadowy silhouettes of the trees. And then, all of a sudden, Percy started laughing. Nico wasn’t sure what to do of that. Had the moment been broken or-?

Before any dark thoughts of doubt could even creep into his mind, was he pulled back into another kiss by Percy. If possible even deeper than the last. Surer. Like Percy had realized something vital in these moments that made him more determined than ever.

And though Nico couldn’t say what was going on in Percy’s mind, what conclusion he had come to, he knew the conclusion he himself drew in that moment, as him and Percy were holding and kissing each other. If Percy was rain, and Nico was midnight, then together they could be midnight rain, terrifying and powerful but also gentle and comforting if one needed it.

~*~ The End ~*~

[the-kipsabian]

if you could design a kip era, what would you do? :3

oh this is good

im going to assume just saying that i would bring the boxman back is cheating LMAO so im just. gonna elaborate on that. cause we never got that to its full potential, and ive always thought we could have gone so much more interesting and fucked up with it

because really, you cant redesign perfection, right? cause boxman had it all, an intriguing character, a really fucking good look (silver fox bastard my beloved), just the way he carried himself and talked and everything. like that was perfect. but we could redo that, make it even more unhinged and slightly scarier and hotter since hes beautifully buff now go figure lmao

i think the biggest thing redesign-wise would be the gear. ive grown fond of the sex idol gear tbh those pants are so tight dont look at me but since they were revealed ive just always thought they were missing something. like they arent as flashy or detail heavy as they deserve to be for him, so we could start by tweaking those. i do like the leopard print pattern but i feel like you could do better than that, especially compared to the previous gear. i dont know exactly what but please. gimme back my cool goth-vibe patterns. and also the long coat god i miss the long coat so badly

i wouldnt necessarily bring the box back i think, tho i do love that funky little fucker to death ngl, but i feel like he has said before, it has run its course. but that doesnt mean we couldnt do something with the rest of that character; keep the eerie sense of dread surrounding him, keep the constant mastermind aspect, let him talk in riddles again before i fucking explode. like he could be such a good fucking supervillain if they just let him ough

..and just for shits and giggles i need a fun colored hair back (he literally just recently said he has always wanted to try green hair like BOY WHY HAVENT YOU and also i want to see him in blue 💜) and the nail polish too. and then gimme more dangly earrings and worse eyeliner thank youuu

..i feel like this doesnt answer the question at all actually LMAO but heres some thoughts of just. generally aspects i would like i guess? cause i really dont know what i would like as a whole character cause like said in the very beginning, boxman was perfect and i would just want him back please and thank you 💜

[livio-the-doublefang]

@adventures-written

Nico stared at Livio in disbelief. Was he really here? He watched him shoot himself in the head so how --?! He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until something screamed in him to breath. Letting out the air, he watched as Livio picked up his sunglasses, which had fallen off when he bumped into the other.

He had to be dreaming, right? There was no way this was real.

"...Livio..." He reached out, as if to take his sunglasses, but instead he grabbed Livio's wrist. He was physical. He could touch him! "Fuck you...!" he growled as he pulled the other close and into a hug, "You asshole! You scared the shit out of me..." He didn't want Livio to see him cry.

"Found out the hard way that my healing factor works quite well. Suffice to say I won't be doing that again...but yes brother. I'm real. And in my right mind. Thank you...for freeing me from their control." The silver haired assassin watched the kaleidoscope of emotions play on his elder brother's face, seeing every raw outline that danced in midnight orbs. It was a wonderful feeling, truly.

To look upon his face, to bare witness to the man he had so long to see again, realize that he had indeed survived. They-....could be together again. Just like before. The younger could only squeak as he was yanked in close into a tight embrace, his chest suddenly full of his brothers weight. Without hesitation did he return the affection, squeezing his beloved brother and refusing to ever let him go again.

"Hah...m'sorry, Nico. I'm here, truly..." Liv whispered, nuzzling his nose against messy brunette locks. He was home. Right where he ought to be.

"You will not lose me again."

[ndnbadbitch]

The Snow Maiden's Ballad

Chapter 18

The next morning was somber. I woke up to having a cold bucket of ice thrown on me. I said nothing as I had my hair cut off, in big uneven chunks by the slaves of this city. I said nothing when I had all of my jewelry taken, except for the necklace that seemed to freeze the fingers of those who tried. I said nothing as my body paint on my face and arms was washed off with icy water. 

I watched as Sinageth wept, with locks of white silver hair falling down to the ground like snow. Soren said nothing as they took his remaining jewelry and removed any body paint. 

“Get up.” A Priest in a mask came in. It wasn’t Morokei. It was Rahgot. Fucking wonderful. 

“Chain their arms to the front. I don’t want them to use their magicka to escape.” He told the slaves. He walked off. 

“I’m sorry.” One woman, a woman with long hair spoke to me. “Most of us still think Miraak set you up. Krosis even told them but they didn’t care.” 

“It’s okay. This is not your fault.” I told her. “I hope someday you will be free.” 

“Thank you.” We walked out of our cells. My feet were killing me but I had to walk. When we left the jail, I was nearly blinded by the sunlight. 

“Walk!” I felt Rahgot shoving his staff against my back. We walked outside where a crowd stood, watching us. There were whispers among them. Then we slowly ascended to the top of the mountain temple with an escort by our sides. Sinageth was weeping and Soren stared at the ground. 

Sinageth looked at me. “It was good to know you, Thenhis. You too, Soren. It was an honor to serve our beloved jud with you.” 

I nodded. Suddenly, she elbowed her escort in the chest, causing him to fall down. She quickly ran for the edge of the path. 

“Sinageth, get back here!” Rahgot was chasing after her. She turned to face him. 

“I will die but not by your hand. I see your doom and Alduin’s too. Can you taste it?” Sinageth smiled as she stepped backwards. 

“SINAGETH!” I screamed as I tried to run to her. The escort grabbed me. After a brief moment, I heard a sickening thud. 

“What a coward.” Rahgot shook his head. 

“Farewell, friend.” Soren was in tears. “May Aetherius be your resting place.” 

I burst into sobs. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. At that point, they decided to drag us to our execution spot, not wanting us to off ourselves too. There were the Priests, standing in the distance. I saw my brother. I could tell he was sobbing under that mask. Vokun might have thought the same thing as she was patting his shoulder. Traitor. I wish I hated him entirely. I didn’t. 

Alduin and four dragons stood in front of us. My stomach churned as I saw what looked like joy in Alduin’s face. This was it. 

“Thenhis of Atmora and Soren Delus, you are both accused of treason. What is your plea?” 

“Not guilty!” We both shouted. 

“There is plenty of evidence and eyewitnesses, including Alduin thuri himself. We have voted you as guilty. Soren, you are sentenced to death by drawing and quartering….” Nahkriin told them. “As for Thenhis, you will be made to watch and you will suffer the next punishment.” 

“Soren!” I screamed in terror. This couldn’t be happening. This was all a bad dream, right? Soren’s face turned pale and he gulped. He then faced me, his face beaming up with love. 

“Any last words?” Nahkriin told him. 

“Thenhis. No matter how or when, we’ll find each other again.” He was crying. 

“You promise?” I looked at him, tears running down my cheeks. I wish I had given him one final kiss.

“Yes.” He spoke as a dragon grabbed one of his limbs. He cried out as the other dragons grabbed the others. I screamed in horror and tried to run away but Rahgot roughly grabbed my head and forcefully pulled my chin forward. 

“Look, traitor, look!” He shouted at me in delight. 

“No! No!” I was still fighting him. 

 Soren was screaming in agony and he was turning purple. Suddenly, his limbs ripped off of his body and blood splattered everywhere. I had blood on my face and on my clothes. I screamed as he lay there, barely breathing. Alduin walked up to him. 

“This is what you deserve.” He then crushed Soren’s head. I screamed again, raking my nails down my cheeks. 

Something in me snapped. I slammed my head into Rahgot’s neck, making him gasp for air. I got away and starting running down the staircase. No, I can’t die. I don’t want to die. I want my mother. I want my father. I want my brother. I want my husband back. My Monvahkrii. Sinageth. Kymedar. Suddenly, I felt an ice spike hit my chest and I tumbled down the stairs. It seemed like eternity as I finally hit the bottom. I saw him standing above me. It was Paarthurnax. My leg had shattered in the fall. 

Please. Kill me. Please. I stared at him, hoping he understood. I could hear the Priests running behind me. Paarthurnax looked up and then nodded, looking down at me. I saw his neck turn red and I closed my eyes. Suddenly, everything was hot and I couldn’t breathe. I was in agony but it was too quick for me to feel any pain or even shout. 

When I open my eyes, Sister Hawk, Kyne, was standing next to me. 

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Thenhis.” She held my hand. “But Akatosh still has a purpose for you.” 

“What is that purpose?” I ask as I see Morokei run down and stare at my charred remains in horror. 

“You will see. Come with me.” She extended her arms to me. I took them.