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silcoitus · 19 hours ago

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Could you write a (young)Silco/Disabled Reader, who for the most part is able to walk just fine with the help of a brace but on bad days they’ll bring out the cane and on really bad days a wheelchair but is still insistent on trying to do things no matter how much they shouldn’t?

I tried to be as sensitive as I could towards reader's disability. I hope it comes across sincere and that I haven't committed any faux pas. If I have, please let me know in the comments and I will happily revise. Like young Silco in this fic, I will quickly apologize and learn if given the opportunity.

A Voice Like Yours

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Mature

Tags: gn!reader x silco; disabled reader; Silco; Felicia; Connol; Vander; Benzo; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort;

Word count: 3.5k

Beta reader: @juniper-sunny

You would've liked to get to the market sooner, but getting out of bed was particularly hard today. Typically, you're able to handle just fine with only your brace. And when that doesn't work, your cane will usually suffice. But with rough sleep last night and a flare-up this morning, you opt for using your chair today to get to the market. Just until you can get your bearings again.

With your later arrival, you're unable to beat the morning rush, sandwiched between what seems like every citizen of the Undercity. Most give you a wide berth, but others shove past you unceremoniously. You're used to it by now, but your fatigue plasters a permanent scowl on your face as you try to find your usual vendors.

As you make your way through your shopping list, the bag sitting on your lap getting slightly heavier with each new stall you visit, you feel a bit better. (You used to keep your bag slung over the back of your chair, but stopped when some asshole stole it.)

You're on the last item on your list when you get settled in front of one wooden stall and make small talk with the shopkeep. He greets you by name and grabs your usual order, setting it down on the counter before turning his back to fix something. You try to reach for your purchase, but it's just a touch too far. You're about to move your chair closer when a stranger waltzes up and plucks the bag off the counter.

“Hey! That's mine!” you protest, rolling closer to him.

“I know,” he replies, handing it to you. “I was just getting it for you.”

You snatch it and shove it into your canvas bag, still frowning at the tall, slender man with long raven hair.

“I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own.” You grab your wheels and in one fluid, practiced motion, reposition your chair away from him. You start to leave, but pause, looking over your shoulder. “I don't need your help.”

Out of your periphery, you see him raise both hands in surrender, but from this angle, you can't tell if his expression is sincere or sarcastic. You try to shake it off, ready to go back home and wash your hands of the interaction.

The Undercity is supposed to be the city of self-reliance.

So why does everyone still treat you like a child?

The following day fares better. You bring your cane (just in case) for your shift at the shop, settling into your stool at the cash register. You're reading a book during the slower hours when a customer comes in and sets a stack of papers down onto the counter. Your eyebrows furrow at the flyers and you lift your eyes to see a familiar face.

“If it's alright, I'd like to add these to your bulletin board,” the man from yesterday says, not even looking at you. He leans on the counter, looking out the large windows to the street. “Got a meeting coming up and want to get the word out.”

Finally, he turns to you.

You watch as his face cycles from apathy to confusion to recognition. His eyes dart down to your stool and the surrounding area, seemingly looking for your wheelchair. When he comes up empty, he looks back up to your face, head tilting to the side.

“I didn't need it today,” you preemptively answer. “Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“Right, right, sorry,” he's quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to insinuate—”

“That I'm faking?”

“No! Never!” he says, hands coming up in surrender, again. His shoulders sag forward slightly and he runs his fingers through his hair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I'm sorry, can we start again?”

He puts his hand out. You eye it warily.

“Hi, I'm Silco.”

Your lips thin, but you take his hand.

“Hi, Silco.” You give him your name.

“I would like to put these up on your bulletin board,” he says, nodding to the corkboard behind you.

You put your hand out.

“Only two,” you instruct. “One here and the one in the back.”

He starts to hand you the flyers, but then pulls back.

“I can put up the one out back,” he offers.

“It's fine,” you say, insisting with a gesture of your hand. “I can do it.”

Silco looks at your hand then up to your face, understanding slowly spreading across his features. He nods, mostly to himself, as he hands you the papers.

“Of course.”

You take one flyer and a thumbtack from the corner of the board, stabbing it in place with a bit more force than necessary.

“You should come,” Silco says from behind you. “We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

You turn back to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just think about it,” he says softly, gathering the pile of papers. With a small, almost apologetic, smile, he leaves.

You lift the remaining flyer, scanning it.

Children of Zaun

Town Hall

Wednesday

4pm

The Last Drop

“Hey, Monte?” you call out. “If it's okay, I think I'm gonna head out a little early.”

Your boss peeks his head out from one of the aisles, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose.

“That's fine,” he reassures you, calling your name. “We're pretty slow today; I can take it from here.”

You take your cane from behind the counter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Thanks! I'll see you tomorrow!”

You make your way to The Last Drop, having spent a couple days wrestling internally about whether or not to go. You had heard of the Children of Zaun, but not really given them much thought. From what you'd heard, they were a ragtag group of misfits posing as rebels, claiming to want independence from Piltover. You had rolled your eyes in disbelief at the notion. Besides, you have plenty of your own concerns to worry about; it's not as if you have time to take up some righteous cause.

But Silco's words ring in your ear, propelling you forward.

“We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

What did he mean by that? “Like yours”—what’s that supposed to mean? So they want some sort of token disabled person on their crew to make them look better or something?

But the sincere remorse on his face and the softness of his tone told you otherwise.

Maybe he meant it.

Maybe he does actually want to hear what you might have to say.

So you walk up to The Last Drop, hand clutching your cane, holding it less like a walking stick and more like a blunt force weapon (which it has had to be, on occasion). Taking a deep breath, you pull your shoulders back, and push open the door.

You're by no means early, but there's no way this is the entire gang. You can count on exactly one hand the number of people that showed up. There's Silco, standing with his back to you, what looks to be a couple sharing a table, and then two larger men standing by the bar. You're immediately filled with regret and start to turn back around, until you hear someone call your name.

“You came!” Silco says, more excitement in his voice than you'd expect. “Hey, this is who I told you about.”

Four pairs of eyes turn to you and you feel rooted on the spot.

You shoot Silco a look.

He told them about you? What could he possibly have said?

He gestures you forward, leading you to the couple at the table. You take one of the empty seats and Silco sits in the one next to you. He leans forward, one forearm barred along the wooden surface as he addresses the couple.

“I told you we were missing something,” he starts. “That this—” he gestures to the group, forefinger pointed and moving in a circle, “wasn't enough.”

That same forefinger comes down, tapping incessantly on the table.

“If we're to be the voice of Zaun, we need to make sure that everyone has a spot at the table.”

The woman glances at you before turning back to Silco, nodding slightly as she speaks.

“Okay…” she nods a little more, as if the thought is taking root in her head. “Yeah. That makes sense.” She turns toward you. “My name is Felicia and this is Connol,” she says, leaning her head toward the man next to her.

“Felicia. Connol. Nice to meet you.”

You shake hands with both of them.

“Would you like a drink?”

You pull your lips through your teeth and Felicia is quick to reassure you.

“Don't worry; it's on the house.” She straightens up, calling out to the large man behind the bar. “Vander! Some beer!”

“Get it yourself!” he calls back.

“Fuck you,” she laughs.

“Oy,” the other man says, bringing a tray over. “Watch yer language ‘round the new recruit.”

Felicia laughs.

“They’re an adult, Benzo; they can handle it.”

You look back at her and she offers you a smirk. You take the free mug of beer and Silco raises his up in toast.

“To the Children of Zaun.”

Felicia and Connol mirror the movement.

“The Children of Zaun!”

You lift your glass and say the words, though you don't take them to heart just yet. But as you bring the mug to your lips, you can't help the small smile from creeping onto your face.

Every Wednesday, you leave the shop to go to the bar. And every Wednesday, you become a little more smitten.

With the cause.

With the man that introduced you to it.

The more you get to know Silco, the more you realize your first impression of him wasn't a good representation of the man he is.

Or, perhaps, maybe it was the perfect representation.

A man who only wants to help, eager to uplift those around him. So excited to do so that he steps on a few toes in the process. He's stumbling and clumsy with his help, but he's quick to apologize and quick to learn.

It doesn't take long for you to realize—he’s that way with everyone. It wasn't just you and it wasn't just because you're disabled. He's always on alert for if someone could use a hand, always first to arrive when someone asks for assistance. That's just who he is.

And if this is one of the rebels trying to uplift the Undercity, the Nation of Zaun is in good hands.

Silco is keeping you company at the shop, following you around as you restock some items. He carries a crate of goods while you arrange them on displays, your discerning eye careful to make them look as appealing as possible.

You drop one of the small boxes and Silco is quick to bend down to grab it.

“Silco,” you warn, “What'd I say about helping without being asked?”

“Sorry, right,” he says, straightening up to let you retrieve it. “Force of habit.”

You grin up at him, chuckling. “I'm just fucking with you.”

With some assistance from him, you get out of your wheelchair and resume your place at the cash register. Silco takes the opportunity to sit in your chair, long fingers fiddling with the wheels. You laugh as he tries to maneuver the chair around the front of the shop.

“Have you learned any tricks on this thing?” he asks, trying to lean back and balance it so that his feet lift off the ground.

“It's a wheelchair, not a skateboard, you jackass.”

“That's a ‘no’ then,” he says, smirking. But the smirk is wiped clean off his face when the chair tumbles backwards, sending him crashing to the floor.

You let out a bark of a laugh at that, laughing even harder when he starts to groan.

“Serves you right!” You grab your cane, gingerly getting off the stool to help him back up. “If you broke my chair, I swear to Janna… Do you know how hard these are to get? I had to pay so much coin for it.”

You point your cane at him threateningly, but he wraps his fingers around it and tugs, pulling you forward. A startled squeak at your throat, you fall on top of him, catching yourself just in time so you don't headbutt him.

“Silco—”

“Now we're both down here,” he teases, smirking.

“Wonderful,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “What a masterful plan.”

Something sparks behind Silco's ocean green eyes, something playful, mischievous.

“I'll say it is.”

And with that, he lifts his head, closing the distance between your lips. Your eyebrows lift and your eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours. His hand comes up to tenderly cradle your face and you lean into the kiss, pressing your chest to his so you're flush with him. You don't know how much time has passed, but as you kiss him, you feel as light as a cloud, until—

“Hey!”

You straighten up, face red with blush.

“I don't pay you to swap spit with the customers,” Monte says, but there's no bite to his words. “Get up before someone trips on you.”

You laugh, pressing your forehead to Silco's.

“Here.” You push yourself up, offering him a hand. “Let me help you.”

It’s been a while since you’ve had a friend group like this. Ever since the accident that caused your disability, no one seems to have the patience to deal with your rougher days, as if you’re holding them back.

It’s hard to not internalize that feeling.

But with Silco and the rest of the Children of Zaun, you feel different. Whereas before, it felt like your mere presence was a burden, you feel seen and appreciated. You feel heard.

When you tell Vander that the bathroom stalls are too tiny for your chair, he knocks the dividers down to make room.

When you lament about the small step outside the front door, Benzo throws together a small wooden ramp.

More and more, The Last Drop feels like home, though going to the basement or the upstairs office still eludes you. It’s not that you can’t. It’s more that you’re worried that you’ll have to ask for help to get you back on the ground floor should you get stuck in either place. But, there’s never really been any reason for you to visit either floor, so you’re content to stay in the main bar area, occasionally ducking into the back room when the crowd gets a little too loud.

It’s on one such trip to the storage room that Silco finds you, huddled on the floor, your cane propped up next to you. Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your palms pressed flat against your ears, trying in vain to drown out the sounds of the bar. You had made the mistake of visiting during peak hours and didn’t have the energy to go all the way back home. You thought you could power through it until the customers dwindled, but it became too much. So, you retreated to the back room, holding back tears.

“We have one more!” Silco calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, talking to Vander who tends the bar. “After this, we’ll need to get more.”

He turns over his shoulder to see you on the floor. Immediately, his voice lowers and he crouches down to get eye level, your name a reassuring coo on his throat.

“Hey… are you okay?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut.

“Okay, just… give me a second.”

You hear him pick up a crate of bottles. The door swings open, letting in the raucous noise from outside. You let out a whimper as the door swings closed. After a few tense minutes, the door opens again and you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Hey, I’m back,” Silco coos. There’s shuffling as he moves to sit next to you. “What do you need?”

It’s a sentence you practically trained him to ask. With his tendency to charge forward offering the help he thinks you need, you managed to finally get him to learn to ask you first.

It’s a small gesture, but at this moment, it’s everything.

“I need…” Your breath is shaky, your eyes holding back tears. “I need quiet. And— And it’s too far to walk home.”

Silco shifts, moving to crouch in front of you, hands on either of your shoulders. He squeezes them and you look up to see a tender expression on his face. Not pity or condescension. Concern. Sincere, genuine concern.

“It’s much quieter upstairs in the office,” he offers. “Do you think you can make it?”

Your lips tighten. It’s hard to think with so much noise; you can barely hear your own thoughts. It doesn’t help that you can feel a flare up coming on, pain shooting through your legs.

“I… I don’t know.”

You watch Silco chew on the inside of his mouth, thinking.

“I could… carry you.”

You shoot a look at him, equal parts indignation and humiliation.

“I know, I know. It’s not ideal.” He looks around the storage room as if he’ll find an alternative answer. “But the sooner we get you out of here, the sooner you can feel better.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, wrestling internally. The sting behind your eyes is threatening to push past your defenses. Finally, wordlessly, you nod.

“Okay,” he says, tone firm.

His ocean green eyes dart around your body, trying to figure out how best to pick you up that keeps your dignity intact. But before he can reach a decision, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to yourself, holding him in a tight embrace.

“Oh! Hey…” He melts into the hug, bringing both arms around your back, squeezing you gently. “It’s okay.” He rubs your back with one hand, palm warm against your shirt. “It’s okay. We all need help sometimes.”

“I did too much today,” you say into the crook of his neck, tears escaping your eyes. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“Shhhh…” he shushes, shifting his arms as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you along.

You manage to get to your feet, but your legs feel wobbly and unstable under your weight.

“Here, let me…” Silco bends down and hangs your cane over the crook of his elbow before bringing one arm behind your knees. “On three. One… two… three.”

You lift your legs up and he scoops you up in his arms, straightening to a stand. Instinctively, you wrap both your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“I got you,” he coos. “I’ve got you.” He takes one final look around the room before pushing the door open with his back. “We’ll go behind the bar; no one will even know.”

You nod, tears flowing in earnest now to stain Silco’s shirt.

You press one ear to the crook of his neck, trying to dampen the loud voices of the bar patrons. At that, Silco walks a little faster, making his way up the staircase. In his haste, he drops your cane on the landing.

“Shit! Sorry, I’ll go back for it,” he says, continuing forward.

After opening the door and carefully depositing you onto the plush red cushions of the couch, he darts out the door, returning with your cane in hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of you before sitting next to you.

“There.” He rubs your hip as you lay on your side. “Is that better?”

You nod, reorienting yourself to rest your head on his lap. Silco settles on the couch, bringing one hand to your head, smoothing down your hair in soft reassuring strokes. His other hand grazes your cheek, wiping away your tears.

It’s finally quiet.

Your legs still ache, but it’s not as bad as it was before. You can feel the rise and fall of Silco’s chest against your back, his breathing a calming rhythm.

“Thank you, Silco,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he whispers back.

After a moment, he shifts, bending down to bring his lips to your temple. You smile at the touch, feeling warmth settle behind your ribs.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I’ve never heard you apologize before and I don’t want to hear it now.”

The firmness in his voice has you turning your face to look up at him. There’s a resoluteness in his expression, a confidence you typically see reserved for Children of Zaun meetings. He looks off into the distance, as if seeing something that’s not there. A vision. A promise.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he continues. His chin dips and his ocean green eyes find yours. His eyebrows lift and his lips curl into a soft smile, full of pride and affection. “You’re perfect.”

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #arcane silco #silco #silco x you #silco x reader #silco fanfic #x reader #reader x character #reader insert #canon x self insert #canon x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 days ago

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Frayed Edges

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | In Stitches | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He was pissed off. His entire body hurt and he was really pissed off.

Sam dropped him off at your place. Bucky didn't want to deal with anyone else right now. He told Sam he'd call him when he'd need to get picked up.

He limps up to your door, grimacing at every move he makes. The stab wound in his stomach hurt like a bitch and he needed your help ASAP.

He knocks on your door, ringing the doorbell with urgency. The door swings open and your eyes widen, "Holy shit, Bucky!" You pull him inside and he groans in pain.

Bucky takes a quick glance at your table, seeing two sets of plates set out, "You expecting someone?"

You open your mouth to reply and there's a knock at your door, "Shit," you murmur, "Go to my room. Don't make a sound. Hurry!"

He obeys without a word. As soon as your bedroom door closes, you rush to your front door and pull it open, "Hey, dad! Sorry, was in the bathroom."

"It's alright, Bug," your dad kisses your head and enters your home, the bag of takeout in his hand. You take the bag from him and head to the dining table.

"Nice! Sushi!" you feign excitement, silently praying that, for whatever reason, your dad doesn't go to your room to find your ex boyfriend, now mob boss, bleeding on your floor.

"You still like the dragon roll, right?"

"Yup!"

"Good," your dad joins you at the table.

"Um, I have to finish some online training class really quickly and then I'll join you in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Go finish up. I'll be here," your dad waves you away and you rush to your bedroom, locking it behind you.

You head to the conjoining bathroom, as see Bucky cleaning his wound. “Why the fuck did you think coming here was a good idea?!” You whisper angrily at the bleeding mob boss in your home.

“I didn’t know your dad was coming over!” Bucky loudly whispers back in response.

“Exactly! You didn’t know which is why the smart thing to do would’ve been to call or text me to let me know you planned on coming!”

The mob boss scoffs, “Well sorry, I was a little too busy trying to not to die from a stab wound!” He gestures to his punctured skin.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, “Out of nights you get hurt, it had to be the night my dad and I have dinner together.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “My bad. I’ll make sure to schedule my stabbings at a more convenient time.”

“Idiot,” you mumble as you grab your first aid kit from under the sink, and gesture for him to sit on your toilet.

You work in a quick and efficient silence. Bucky doesn’t make an effort of conversation because he knows you prefer silence when you work.

Despite your annoyance with him, you're still gentle. You apologize for the stinging of neosporin.

He watches you with an observant gaze, a softness in his eyes. A sense of longing fills him in the pit of his stomach...or maybe that's the feeling of the needle you're sewing him up with.

Bucky still can't believe this is where life has lead you both. You help save lives, he, on occasion, ends lives. You're light, while Bucky lives and works in the dark.

He knows coming back into your life was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. He just missed you so much and was desperate to have you back in any capacity. Even if he can't have you the way that he wants.

You finish up, taking off the bloody gloves you wore and throwing them into the trash, “Stay here. Take some meds. I’ll check up on you, but please be quiet. If dad finds you, he’ll kill both of us.” You state with concern and seriousness.

He nods and gives you a shy smile, “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go enjoy dinner with your pop.”

You stand with a sigh, “Just text me if you need anything. I’ll pretend it’s America or something.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Bucky says as he slowly stands from your toilet after you stitched him up.

He watches as you quickly clean up and exit your room. He listens to the distant sound of you and your dad talking.

Bucky’s shoulder slumps as he lets out a shaky sigh. He wishes it never came to this, sneaking around and pretending like he still didn’t love you.

Because he does. He always will, even if you two are now worlds apart from each other, on opposing sides, never meant to be.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #marvel au #mob boss au

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faelyn42 · 3 days ago

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"So... What are we looking for?" Emma wondered, as she looked around at all the clutter. Regina's vault was always overflowing with strange and esoteric artifacts, a sharp contrast to her perfectly tidy house.

"I am looking for a spell. You just followed me in here." Regina stood facing a wall, head bowed as she scanned the pages of a dusty tome.

"Right." Emma chewed at her cheek, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "So... what kind of spell are we looking for?"

"I don't know yet, I just started looking. And it will take even longer if you keep interrupting me."

"Sorry," Emma muttered under her breath. In the name of not distracting Regina from her Very Important Work, she turned her attention to the objects scattered around her. Lots of books and scrolls, mostly, in languages she couldn't understand. She gave a glance at Regina, whose nose was still buried in her book, and unrolled one of the scrolls. Looked like Arabic, or something. It was wrapped around a wax cylinder though, that had some pretty cool carvings. Emma reached out to pick it up and get a closer look.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Emma looked up, startled, to find Regina twisting around to stare pointedly at her. Emma shrugged, nonchalant, and pulled her hand back. "What," she joked, "Is it going to turn me into a toad?"

"No, it will just kill you," Regina replied, turning back to her book. Slowly flipping the page she added, "I prefer to deal with my enemies directly."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Emma muttered. She rolled the scroll back up, careful not to touch the wax cylinder, and her eye caught on a glint of light. A tiny silver bell, with a handle of black wood. Pursing her lips, she reached out.

"Emma!" Regina scolded, and rushed over to snatch her wrist away from the bell. "You're like a puppy," she huffed, "Getting into everything she sees."

"Hey," Emma defended, but faltered. She, didn't really have a good argument. "Puppies are cute," she finished lamely.

Regina paused, and looked her up and down. "Yes, well. My point stands." She stepped away, back to her spellbook—leaving Emma to stare after her, gaping. "I think I've found the spell we need," she continued, oblivious to Emma blue-screening behind her. "The ingredients will be difficult to find though. Gold will have some, but whatever he wants in return probably won't be pleasant."

"Did you just call me cute?" Emma asked, slowly recovering.

"Do you want to waste time talking?" Regina asked, moving quickly to the exit with her spellbook tucked primly under her arm. "Or do you want to break this curse?"

#this was stuck in my head #so i wrote it #it is no longer stuck in my head #youre welcome #emma swan #regina mills #swan queen

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 days ago

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"The truth - Part 2." Daryl Dixon imagine.

(Not my gif)

Alone in the place she always loved, Daryl finally tells her the words he always wanted to say to her. Will he finally be able to propose to her?

You can read part 1 here "The truth - Part 1." And if you want to read about their daughter, you can do it here "My everything." and "For life."

A/N: For my part, my stories will always have a happy ending, so you know what to expect hehe sorry to use she again! (This is probably really cheesy, but what can i say? I love cheesy things) Also, i used the word cockblocker, sorry!

A younger version of (Y/N) sat in the bar, leaving her backpack on the floor before asking for a drink: but because she was ignoring the world around her, lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the curious gaze of the young man a few steps away.

Daryl blinked taking in all of her, because she was pretty, like, beautiful, and so interesting to look at with her gaze in her open book, part of her hair covering her face with an attractive concentration on it. He squinted: because in that part of the country there were only mountains, forests and miles of open countryside —Not to mention the occasional crime, so it was strange for him to find someone like her in that boring but dangerous place.

But she looked like a mystery, like a piece of art in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Every now and then, Daryl turns a little bit to steal glances at her.

The open road is about to end in a few minutes, and Daryl, in the company of his thoughts, feels a certain sadness for having to wake her up. With her arm resting on the window, her cheek pressing against her hand and part of her hair covering her face, he can't help but imagine her back as that person, only younger, that he met at the bar that night. Despite the time, she was still the same, maybe with some monsters in her mind and a slightly heavier backpack to carry on her shoulders, (however, everyone had them), but, even so, (Y/N) hadn't lost her essence, always being the same strong but caring person.

When those minutes alone are over, Daryl turns off the car's engine and turns to her.

“Peach? Hey, we're here.” He moves her gently, his voice deep but full of affection. “Open yer eyes, sweetheart.”

His voice brings her back to reality, and (Y/N) opens her eyes slowly. It is not yet dawn and the shadows of the night are not yet swallowed by the bright sun, but when she looks to her right, the unmistakable sound of the waves roaring and crashing against the shore immediately attracts her attention. It is then that she realizes where she is: near a beach that smells of salt —of salt, freedom and of inner peace; because for her, the beach had a unique and wonderful feel, because it was wild and noisy, and in a way she always thought it was a good rest for an exhausted body and a cornered mind.

“Hey, you’ve got to be kidding me.” (Y/N) says softly and smiles breathlessly at him before looking out the window again, her eyes filling with life.

At that small gesture that fills his world, his chest swells with joy, with a nervous tickle reminding him that he’s still alive, and that she’s still alive too. Daryl smiles a little, and his features soften like when he’s not scared or angry, but deep down, he’s clear that it’s all because of her.

“C’mon. It’s almost dawn.”

He grabs his backpack and crossbow from the back seat as (Y/N) opens her own door, waiting for him to be by her side to walk, their boots gently sinking into the sand. The shore is clear, he made sure of that. When they reach the place close to the edge where the waves end, Daryl makes a bold move and takes (Y/N)’s hand, the hand where the ring would be if she said yes, just to help her sit down.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” She teases him, making him snort. But once there, waiting for the sun to wake up and shine on them again, (Y/N) looks in his direction. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I did.” Daryl replies quietly, looking into her eyes as well. “It’s been years since I took ya to the beach.”

For (Y/N), when her fears and insecurities overflowed the edge of her life and turned against her, suffocating and dangerous, her heart and mind searched for the nearest beach, if there was one nearby at that moment of anguish, because she would always found a warm refuge in the landscape that seemed to protect her like an umbrella every time a storm fell over the sky of her life. And he knew that, because he was the only one she told it to.

“…besides…” Daryl clears his throat, hoping not to sound as nervous as he is. “I hope ya know I will always care about ya, peach, that I will keep ya safe, even if ya can do it too.”

But in order not to fall too deep into silence, he takes something from his backpack and hands it to her, making her chuckle. (Y/N) looks at the fruit in her hand for a moment, and then her gaze turns back to him.

“You know? At first I thought you were making fun of me when you started calling me peach.”

Daryl chuckles, too.

“Have I ever made fun of ya? But to be honest with ya, I thought that if I did, ya would threaten to shoot me like ya did with ma brother.”

(Y/N) laughs.

“Him, maybe, but never you.” She looks away from him, focusing on the horizon that is about to change color.

Her heart races, innocently wondering if those words were somehow an attempt at flirting. But (Y/N) tries to let her nervousness dissipate when the first rays of the sun reach freedom, shining in the distance. For her, it is beautiful to witness that spectacle again in a world where beauty had been lost in the passage of time, the constant danger and deaths, but what (Y/N) ignores at that moment, is Daryl's gaze on her, observing her profile, part of her hair that frames her face, because for him, she is the true spectacle there, worthy of being admired with devotion.

“Ya miss it?” Daryl asks after a while, making her look at him. “Ya miss the life we had? The old apartment we shared?”

For a moment, the best times flash before her eyes.

“Yes, I do. Believe it or not, I liked the place, but I like the memories we made there more. You offered me a new life without knowing anything about me, a chance to start over, so, I felt like I had it all. But, you’re still here with me; maybe that’s why that feeling hasn’t changed.”

Daryl tries to say something, the beginning of a monologue he had prepared all the way there, but the moment her gaze leaves him to look back ahead, cruelly, the words threaten to die on his lips. His chest falls in defeat as he gives a deep exhale, which makes him question if he will be able to say it all.

Strike one.

After a while, she speaks again. However, she is nervous and unsure of bringing up that topic now, at that moment, but the thought is like a thorn in her finger, making her feel uncomfortable.

“Do you remember when we were at the prison?” (Y/N) looks back at him, trying not to laugh, and Daryl raises his gaze from the sand until he meets hers. “When Sean started… flirting with me I guess, and when you called me out on it, I told you that you were being a cockblocker…” (Y/N) lets out a small laugh, but she sees that he doesn’t find it that funny, so she tries to keep her composure, even though the memory and that word amuses her. “Do you think… you could do it again? This time for real.”

It doesn’t take long for Daryl to realize who she’s talking about: Spencer.

“Is that asshole giving ya trouble?” His brow furrows instantly, and a murderous look floods Daryl’s blue eyes.

“No! It’s not that, it’s just that…” (Y/N) frowns as well, as a thoughtful expression takes place on her face. “I don’t know how to turn him down without hurting his ego or something. I don’t know him that well, but he seems like the kind of person who’s pretty insistent until he gets what he wants, and somehow, Spencer thinks that…”

“He can get ya too.” Daryl says bitterly, but, even though in a few seconds he manages to calm down, a part of him can’t help but speak his thoughts out loud, with a somewhat accusatory tone. “I thought ya were interested in him.”

(Y/N) frowns.

“What gave you that idea?”

Daryl can’t help the jealousy on the tip of his tongue as he looks her straight in the eyes before answering, with that cold gaze he used to hold to protect himself from the pain.

“Dunno. Ya seemed very friendly with him these months since we got there.”

That accusatory tone doesn’t go unnoticed by her, and for a moment, (Y/N) is incredulous, as if his words weren’t real, but she knows they are. After so many years by his side, even though they weren’t together, (Y/N) had learned to read him like the books she used to read in the past. And although Daryl was and still is like a mystery, with that reserved personality of his, (Y/N) was able to see through him.

Jealousy is a powerful force.

“Are you accusing me of something, Daryl? Because as far as I remember, being friendly with the neighbors isn’t a crime.”

She’s challenging him, Daryl can see it clearly, because she knew very well that she hadn’t done anything wrong, that it was all in his imagination, that she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“No…” It’s then that his gaze softens, only because he knows he’s acting irrationally, because it’s his fear of losing her completely that drives him to behave like this. “Jus'… sorry. Jus' forget about it.”

Now it’s his gaze that abandons her.

Strike two.

After a long while, like an hour or two maybe, (Y/N) feels that the sea, which she had always believed to be therapeutic, had managed to take away all the bad and sad things that lived in her, the bad thoughts, the guilt, the losses, the deaths, leaving her only with a renewing feeling. And although (Y/N) knew well that that feeling would go away at some point, she is at peace with it lasting at least during the way back home.

If she could call it home.

“We should go now…” (Y/N) stands up, not looking him directly in the eyes this time. “I told Denise that we wouldn’t take long and we still have medicine from the last run that we have to organize.”

In that instant, Daryl feels that his only opportunity slips through his hands, like the sand that slips through his fingers, but he feels that something has changed in her, about him, something that only he could perceive. This time, (Y/N) takes a few steps forward as he gathers his things before standing up, walking behind her, watching her hair as it is swayed by the gentle morning breeze.

His heart beats with an overwhelming force, as if it threatened to stop at any moment, and his worst fears take shape before his eyes. Daryl was always a strong man, physically, but his insecurities were his weak point, a detail that he knew how to mask well until she came into his life, and then the incessant fear of feeling insufficient for her ate away at his soul, taking away the little sleep he once managed to get.

But Carol was right, he had to do it now, before she really lost hope in him, before she undertand it was time to move on.

It takes Daryl only a few steps to reach her, and his free hand catches hers, at the same time his body sticks to hers to prevent her from turning to look at him, dropping his things to the side. For a second, (Y/N) is startled, and her body flinches slightly as she feels his face hidden in her hair, something he used to do all the time since they were together.

“Please, jus'… listen to what I have to tell ya, okay? But don’t turn around yet. And if after that, yer answer is no, I want ya to know I always loved ya. Back then, now, and for the rest of ma life. I’m sorry I never told ya that before.” Daryl pulls away a little, his hand still holding hers. His voice is low, somewhat nervous, and maybe even unsure, because the constant fear still appears in front of him, more fearsome than a walker. “Ma life before ya was a fuckin' mess, I lived part of ma life without a purpose, jus' survivin' one more day, but when ya came along… ya were like that first ray of sunlight when it rises on the horizon, like that first breath after being submerged in the water for too long. With ya I felt alive, but I could never tell ya that I loved ya 'cause I always felt that ya deserved somethin' better than me. Hell, I still believe that, but the idea of losin' ya is worse. I want to be with ya for as long as we can be alive in this world. I love ya for who ya are, peach, for yer stubbornness, for yer strength, but also for how sweet ya are, with our family, n’ with me. I want to hug ya, kiss ya, hold yer hand n' be able to be at least a little bit of that man that ya always saw in me…”

Daryl lets go of her hand, and (Y/N) waits for a moment, for something, she doesn’t quite know what, some hint that tells her she can turn around maybe. And when his voice calls her again, she turns slowly, with fear in her racing heart, but in the midst of that immensity that used to steal her breath, seeing Daryl with one knee in the sand and a ring in his hand has the same effect on her, in a totally different way.

“What are you…?”

Daryl’s hair covers part of his eyes, but she can see the nervousness and sincerity in them.

“Marry me, peach, I can’t promise ya a fairy tale, but I can promise ya that I will love ya for the rest of ma life.”

His words travel through her, right to her heart, and (Y/N) fights back the sudden tears that she refuses to let fall at that moment, overwhelmed by his sudden confession just when she had thought that they would never, ever be together again. Her thoughts travel at the speed of a train, but she knows well that there is only one correct answer.

Then, (Y/N) nods and a soft smile appears on her lips.

“Of course i will marry you.”

It was a truth that Daryl didn’t smile much, because unfair adversity never played in his favor, so he hadn’t had many real moments to do so, but in that instant, as he stands, he finds it easy to lift her into his arms, her legs around his waist and her warm hands on his cheeks as she leans in to kiss him, and he, responds with the same fervor.

In that moment, Daryl feels, for the first time in his life, what it’s like to be truly happy.

“I love ya.” He says between kisses. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“It’s okay. You’re lucky I’ve always been way more patient than you.” (Y/N) chuckles still close to his mouth, giving him another kiss before saying the words he’s dying to hear. “I love you too.”

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 days ago

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Can you do “do any of the clothes you’re wearing belong to you?!” from the poly prompts with the reader and non judging breakfast club ?

sure thing! thanks for the poly njbc request btw <3

(original prompt list can be found here btw in case y'all wanna request something)

Sharing Is Caring (poly Non-Judging Breakfast Club x gn reader)

Warnings: makeout session between the reader and Chuck, offscreen sex/implied smut, hickeys mentioned, fluff other than that

It wasn't always easy being in a polycule, especially one with four of the most well-known Upper East Siders there ever were, but if there was one perk to the chaos of it all it was you never had to worry about running out of clothing.

Take now, for example. You couldn't find any of your own clothes, so naturally you just scouted around the shared penthouse for something, anything to wear before heading out for the day. You were meeting Dan for coffee and didn't want to end up being late.

After what seemed like forever, you were finally able to get together enough articles of clothing to make an outfit, and with that you were off, not bothering to check who the clothes belonged to before leaving. You were sure your partners wouldn't mind if you borrowed their stuff. They never did, because to them it was just further proof you were theirs.

"Hey," you greeted Dan in a slightly breathless voice, having rushed out of the penthouse to the coffee shop so you'd make it on time. "Sorry, my alarm didn't go off. What's up?"

"Well, I see the maid forgot to get your laundry done this morning," he quipped dryly while his eyes flickered along your form, noting the mismatched clothing. Nate's pants, Blair's shirt, Serena's scarf, Chuck's jacket... "As a matter of fact, do any of the clothes you're wearing belong to you?"

"Haha, Dan. Very funny." You rolled your eyes lightheartedly at the question, though you took the moment to glance down at your outfit before realizing he was right. "Um... my underwear is mine, I think. Maybe, I don't know. I didn't really check before putting clothes on."

"Ew," he responded as his nose wrinkled up in disgust. "That was a little bit more information than I needed to know."

"Hey, you asked. I was just answering your question," you gave a casual, unbothered shrug as you replied.

"Whatever. I didn't meet up with you so I could talk about whether the underwear you have on is yours or not," he said before changing the subject to something else. The two of you chatted for a good hour or so, starting to walk down the streets together after getting your coffee. You were just about to point out the time when a limo pulled up alongside the sidewalk. It didn't take a genius to realize who it belonged to.

Dan rolled his eyes while muttering something about unnecessary wealth, which you just ignored. The window to the backseat rolled down, revealing none other than Chuck. "I was in the area and figured you may need a ride given how cold it is," he spoke in that smooth baritone of his before you could ask what he was doing there.

This time it was your turn to roll your eyes. As if he didn't already know about you meeting up with Dan from Serena. You knew you couldn't trust her to keep her mouth shut. "Oh, I'm sure you were just 'in the area'," you said as he got out, holding the door open for you while shooting Dan a smug look that said "I get to have more time with them than you do".

"I guess I'll just catch up with you later, then," Dan grumbled as he watched you disappear into the back of the limo, clearly not too pleased about his meet-up with you getting cut short.

"Bye, Dan," you called out once Chuck got back in and the limo started to pull away, putting the window back up so the car wouldn't be affected by the cold chill in the air. You spoke again after a moment or so. "We need to stop by the penthouse before lunch so I can change."

"Why do you need to change? I think you look absolutely delectable in what you're wearing," Chuck purred out as his eyes flickered hungrily up and down your body where you sat in the backseat, taking in your choice of clothing.

"Nothing that I'm wearing is mine, Chuck. None of it matches, either," you began, your next sentence getting cut off by a squeal of surprise as he pulled you into his lap.

"You don't need to change. You look fine," he insisted as his hands held onto your hips, keeping you in his lap as he pulled you in for a needy kiss. "Besides, I'm sure the others would agree with me."

"Blair wouldn't. She'd think I look like an unorganized mess," you pointed out between kisses, instinctively tilting your head to the side as he started to trail his mouth down your jaw to your neck.

"Well, she's just going to have to deal with it, because we're not stopping." Chuck was a man of his word. Rather than taking you back to the penthouse so you could get changed, he took you in the backseat instead before you met with the rest of your partners for lunch.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you once you got there and wrapped an arm snugly around your waist so your legs wouldn't give out, knowing how weak they currently were from your earlier activities. You were just happy the scarf you had on was hiding the fresh hickeys on your neck.

Everyone had the expected response to seeing you wear their clothes. Serena thought you looked amazing regardless, Blair questioned your taste minus the shirt you had on (and that was only because it belonged to her), and Nate had to be told who's clothes they were by Serena after commenting on how familiar they looked.

"Why couldn't you just put on your own clothes this morning?" Nate questioned in confusion, his head tilted slightly to the side in a way that you all agreed made him look like a puppy dog. A golden retriever, to be exact.

"Because I couldn't find any this morning when I looked, and I didn't want to be late to meet Dan." Noticing the scowl on Chuck's face at your words, you added, "Oh, relax. And unclench your jaw before you crack a tooth."

Serena giggled at the interaction before reaching her hand across the table to rest on top of yours. "Well, I think our stuff looks good on you. After all, sharing is caring, right?"

You couldn't argue with her there. Sharing was caring, especially in your case. And given just how much you loved your partners and the dynamic you shared with them, you wouldn't have it any other way.

End notes: I know there wasn't a big section with the actual njbc but I'm always eager to write more for them if y'all want!

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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lara4eclipze · 6 hours ago

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OKAY HEAR ME OUT i know your bio says you like angst but no one has sent you anything except fluff and smut skfkskfkskf so could i pretty please req an unrequited love trope w/ lara? (or who you prefer) like maybe she has feelings for reader but reader is with another member already or somerhing like that? 🥺

“love is a drug that I quit”

sypnosis -» each passing moment, each heartbeat — guilt gnaws lara knowing she had a crush on her best friends girlfriend

beware! -» angst , touch of fluff , breakup , established relationship, toxic/cheater!sophia , swearing, crying, eventual mutual liking , guilt, I think reader is also kinda toxic in here

talks -» hey babes idk if you wanted a good ending or bad one so I give you a somewhat okay one , also thank you for requesting angst!!! , lovesick girls reference on the title, I think I went off the request a. tad bit hope it's okay though :((

taglist (open) : @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim

knowing lara she would never ever ignore you on purpose — yet here she was being distant , it didn't bother you much since she was only a friend , right?

sophia invited you to stay the night in the girls house , it wasn't out of the normal — what was out of the normal was a lipgloss that sophia and yoonchae didn't use, it was near sophia's bed , at first you didn't look into it thinking maybe it was lara's or maybe megan's lipgloss

yet something in you tingled , something that told you it was someone elses

so without thinking much you asked the girls around the house if they used this specific brand of lipgloss

"manon— do you like rare beauty lipglosses?" you ask the eldest "no.. I kinda like lip oils better" she replied after so you thanked her

"hey do you guys use rare beauty lipglosses?" you ask the youngest duo while they play a video game "nope!" they both replied after so going back to their game

the same response was heard from the middle kids aka lara and daniela , now your actually seething who the fuck owned this gloss then

"sophia elizabeth laforteza—who the fuck owns this gloss and don't try to lie to me!" you scream startling her to stop using her laptop , your hands were fisted , everything felt warm or too hot as sweat dripped down from your forehead

"baby I don't know—maybe it's megan's" her voice trembled as she focused on other things rather than looking at you — she was fucking lying "are you fucking with me?! — she doesn't own this! she told me earlier!" you scream at her , she stood up and tried to calm you down but you swat her hands away

"baby—its no ones I swear" sophia tries to reason out using her soft voice that could've worked but god your tired of her lying to you, "soph don't fucking lie to me—ill find out one way or another"

you snatch her phone opening it , she tries to get it back but you push her off you , scrolling thru her dms you stumbled upon a mysterious number opening it you were not so warmly greeted with a exchange of heartfelt messages , between your girlfriend and some bitch named gabbie

"sophia I'm not gonna do this anymore — why the hell are you talking to gabbie? and why the fuck are you both so lovey dovey?" you angrily threw her phone to the floor — she looked pale almost as if she saw a ghost

"baby it's not what it seems!-"

"no sophia I'm done with you and everything — I thought maybe just maybe giving you a second chance would work , yet here you are back to your old schemes" you cut her off , your eyes blur as tears start to threaten leaving your eyes , you couldn't think properly, you packed up your things with sophia still trying to defend herself , trying to stop you from leaving

she wasn't the sophia you fell in love with certainly not the sophia you're gonna stay with

"I'm sorry — I love you but if you love me too sophia you would let me go" you said trying your very best just to look or even sound composed

now sitting in your car crying like a kid — you couldn't even bear going home when all you can think about is sophia , her hugs that made you comfortable, her kiss that made you melt especially the moments you both cherished

♪

nights passed — sleepless ones even and you still think about her , it wasn't getting any better , the more you cave in the more you became a wreck

the girls all heard the conversation — honestly it was very sick and twisted for sophia to even think of cheating on you, the girls especially lara who was very close to sophia started to distance themselves often times only getting close for fanservice

each passing moment, each heartbeat — guilt gnaws lara knowing she had a crush on her best friends girlfriend

well now ex best friend and ex girlfriend , lara didn't know what to do , whether to pick you or sophia

she wanted to approach you , to talk to you not even in a way to date but just a way to make sure your okay

so she did with her not so impeccable social skills chatting you one random night

freedom girl: y/n? can we talk? I know you're not fully healed yet but I would love to just sit down and talk with you even for a few minutes

you: sure , meet you at the studio?

freedom girl: yes be there in 30

you got ready , you knew damn well that you needed to talk to someone even if that meant it was lara — just because you didn't like her friend doesn't mean you didnt like her

driving there was quiet, no music just the gentle breeze of the air-conditioning in your car , your comfort was soon just silence

"hey how are you?" lara greets you as you park infront of the studio

the weather was cold yet in her presence everything felt warm and comforting

"I've been okay—how about you?" you replied as you both walk in the studio , soon sitting down in front of some equipment as you talk heart to heart

♪

it felt like you two were dodging the obvious topic , the break up or was it that? , or the obvious liking towards you by lara

you noticed it the minute sophia introduced you to the rest — yes you found it icky but when you first broke up with sophia she was the one to reconcile you two now for the second break up she was the one who also talked to you

she was the only one who truly cares more than sophia, the one who would actually go to war for you

yet you couldn't find it in you to date her or even confess the confusing feelings you felt , "can I tell you something?" lara suddenly stops you from thinking

"yeah anything" you replied , you look at her face trying to analyze even the smallest tug of her lips or the blink of her eyes

"you changed my perspective on a lot of things—the time you told me that love can be found anywhere, or maybe the time you helped me in my dark times" she then follows "even when you didn't have to"

you felt like a billion bricks were lifted off your shoulders — at this moment you even forgot about sophia, time was stuck and everything was right

"I'm glad I made you feel that way—you make me feel the same , I really hope this doesn't sound weird but I really love you" you mumble not thinking about the words that spewed out of your mouth and frankly you didn't care , you felt safe with her you felt like living again

"I love you too" she replied in a whisper like tone

the line was crossed , boundaries were broken and you're thankful you did

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #lara raj #lara katseye #lara x reader #lara raj imagines

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avdaciter · 5 hours ago

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Divya bobbed her head as the younger wolf explained themselves . Their mannerisms and the way he spoke gave her the idea of him being different from others, but the gorgon did not want to assume anything, especially when it was something as delicate as someone being neuroatypical. "Gotcha, sweet cheeks." She replied in her usual, chipper way. For a second there, a split second that it was, she hesitated in letting go of their hand so she could throw her arm around their shoulders. She was actually about to, but the thought of Jasper pulling away made Divya refrain from doing so. "There's one thing you don't know about me yet, Jasper-the-stone..." Looking down at their hands, Divya placed her free hand over Jaspers, looking into their brown eyes. "Keeping people safe is my job." A gentle and honest smile spread across her lips. "I got your back, lil wolf. None of these people got nothing on me while I'm with you, alright?" Usually, that was enough to make people around her feel slightly more confident in her presence, but she didn't know if it would have the same effect with them.

As they approached the ring toss booth, Divya was reminded of something that Jasper had said. It made her wonder what was actually going on in the younger wolf's head. "Hey, kid... why do you think you'd ruin your boyfriend's fun?" Weren't couples supposed to enjoy doing things together? "Do you think you might be imagining things? I mean, your boyfriend knows you and knows how you are, right? Is there a chance that maybe.... just maybe you might be afraid of him feeling that way, despite him not having said anything?" That was a loaded question to ask on a first meeting, wasn't there? "Sorry... sometimes I talk more than I should. How about you toss a ring, and if you get it right, I'll let you ask me something?"

they weren’t offended. jasper easily slipped between the cracks, moving soundlessly, keeping their head firmly beneath the sand. it was easier to pretend that way, to force away reality and replace it with the dreamland they so desperately craved — a false truth of being human. the shadow of stubble reminded the young wolf that they were nothing of the sort, that they were brutal and a monster and at the mercy of the moon, but on nights like those they could at the very least pretend. “maybe for others,” he sighed, “but it’s a bit different for me. i have sensitivities, sensory problems … it’s hard to try new things. it usually ends a bit like this,” with food wasted or gifted to others, with a heavy sense of disappointment and failure hanging over their head like a dark cloud. being a werewolf certainly didn’t help — one night each month, jasper was thrust into the unknown ; soil in places it shouldn’t be, prey between his teeth, the crack of bones and the fast growing of hair in areas it had never truly belonged. they were still reeling from their last change. every new smell stung their nostrils, every new sound crescendoed through their ears. jasper could almost hear the countdown to the next full moon in his head: fourteen days, twelve hours, seventeen seconds … it meant they were constantly on edge, one eye to the sky, always looking up and never straight ahead. “i would like that. to get a hot chocolate,” their hands knotted together in a nervous hold, “i can brave it so long as you’re there with me, i think. i just don’t want to be on my own.” relationships were something new to jasper, too. an unexplored frontier, unfamiliar territory. they weren’t sure what was right and wrong, what to expect, what to ask for — but he knew that koda was worth the strangeness. “i think he went to play on some of the games, go on some of the rides. i didn’t want to suck all the fun up and make him miss out on anything … ” but he would have liked the vampire there, beside him, holding his hand, keeping him safe. obediently they fell into step next to their new friend — divya — and quickly walked to keep pace. “ring toss and then hot chocolate?”

#divya.jasper1

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hajihiko · 1 year ago

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YEAH. YEAH THAT COMIC MAKES ME INSANE youre brain is literally so big. i know its only three panels but it gave me so many brain worms it launched basically the main basis for how i view the dynamic between the two of them now. junko went ‘ohhhhh okay he thinks hes a bad person and will never be any different from that. oh this will be easy!’ and then it was. when you talked about how you thought them being ‘video-brainwashed’ was dumb and not interesting i was like ‘YKNOW WHAT IT IS DUMB AND UNINTERESTING’ and it being just. manipulation and actual cult-like tactics of bringing people in. has sooooo much more implications for all of them further down the line. its good

slaps the top of fuyuhiko’s head. this boy can fit so many self loathing/destructive/deprecating/etc etc habits in him. pretty remarkable how much actually given how small he— [i am taken out by a sniper]

(~aed is totally fine i love that 🌺)

I will fight to the gd death for Junko Was Actually A Manipulative Genius and the SDR2 Cast Was Uniquely Suited For Being Exploited narrative. BC I love it. Fuyuhiko (and Akane, and Hajime, and Impostor, and Peko, and Mikan, and Nagito ok you see??) all had some super serious baggage, but none of them had the resources to want to resist her NEVERMIND I'm about to go on a tangent againnnn

ANYWAY. We love a self destructive short king

#Me 🤝 you (🤝 hajime) loving him #not an art #Sorry I didn't reply right away I Do that

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electrosquash · 4 hours ago

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Just got a mail from my MdB (SPD) on why he will vote against the AfD Verbotsprüfung. I know i shouldn't put faith into A. liberal activism and B. the SPD having a spine but the Verbot was my last hope in this system despite knowing it's pitfalls - and now it's gone.

#i'm a fencesitter. i know and fully agree that liberal democracy will always enable fascist powers to rise again #and that i should put energy into communist action instead. the theory checks out.#but i often see takes that would reject any positive change so as not to take away momentum from the revolution and i don't agree with that #since lets be honest there isn't a lot of momentum right now in the first place and even voting is getting more results rn.#and if i were to disengage - what would i do instead. realistically.#either become a dkp karteileiche or get kicked out of the ko (the party one) because i cannot meet the active participation requirements #so i'm not going to dismiss liberal action. i've been writing plenty MdBs about the Verbotsprüfung and enticing others to do the same.#and next i gotta try using my BPD superpowers to manipulate the SPD MdB into feeling really bad and maybe change his mind. Any ideas?#because a reply á la “oh ok then sorry for bothering you” won't cut it. gotta put pressure on.#and he actually read my entire mail and didn't use a template to reply like the cdu wankers did! so chances are he will read my reply.

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vitunhienokivi · 4 months ago

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#this is gonna be pretty serious but I need to get it out bc I keep thinking about it and can't sleep #I could just write a note or something but idk I don't wanna do that and I don't wanna bother my friends at this hour either #so here goes.#my grandma passed away yesterday. it wasn't a surprise since she'd been slowly getting worse and worse #honestly I'm relieved she doesn't have to be in pain anymore #I wouldn't even be feeling so horrible about it all if it wasn't for the fact that she died of covid #and in horrible pain #so I'm just so fucking enraged about it all #she was in a nursing unit. but nurses weren't masking even though the place was meant for old people with poor health #ALL OF THIS could've been avoided if the nurses wore masks at work. or at least this happening would've been so much less likely #at first I was just sad. a little mad that it was covid but at least she could finally pass on #but then my mom called me today. she'd visited the day before and she told me how much pain my grandma had been in #like she hadn't even been able to talk anymore. she'd been convulsing in pain and whimpering. she'd barely even understood my mom was there #and she managed to reply to her telling she was there. maybe. my mom wasn't sure if she'd heard right #and I just can't get it out of my mind. the way she died #her hearing and eyesight were really bad by this point and I don't know if her mind was really all that present either.#she had her good and bad days on that front #so she was just in horrible pain. not being able to see or hear much at all. maybe not even fully understanding where she was #for hours in the middle of the night with no way to get better. no nurses to really help her #until she finally died #like hell she wasn't even able to open her eyes when my mom visited!! that's how much she was hurting!!#and I know she didn't have long left. I know she would've died soon anyway. from something else #but the fact that it was so painful and EASILY PREVENTABLE just makes me so fucking mad #she could've died so much more peacefully if the staff there just wore a goddamn mask #I'm just so unimaginably angry right now #I got shit to do tomorrow but idk if I'll be able to sleeo tonight with all this stuff in my head. I hope writing this helped #anyway sorry to be vulnerable on main I guess. gn #vent

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gotwcird · 2 days ago

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why does it feel like the universe is testing her? for what, she doesn't know, but what she does know is that her limbs are straining, wanting nico closer. to feel him pressed to her, lips on skin, hands skimming over the bend of her spine. yet, she knows, they can't. ( even if the back of her head complains, pointing out that they're alone, truly alone here. ) still, even just like this, star feels okay. telling him something she didn't even admit to herself until right then. and maybe that's what matters. "i hate him." knows she brought him up, but wants to drop the topic altogether. feels anger well up in her throat, for the years of torment, before during and after their relationship. for the years she spent avoiding it, never facing it head on. for bringing it up when she's with nico right now. ( maybe it's time to try therapy again. )

he laughs and suddenly she feels better. his laugh could cure her, probably, from anything. any ailment or issue. plus, the impression of him is still there, on her lips. pulsing pleasant and present. she feels it drive her heartbeat faster, almost pounding, the smell of him lingering in her senses. 'are you okay ?' "why wouldn't i be? i'm here with you," she replies, smiling softy. and it's no lie. she doesn't feel the dread she'd so adamantly ignored before this, keeping her away from a place she'd cherished and let herself breathe in. she stares at him silently for a few long moments, dark eyes skimming over his features, taking him in. she feels her chest squeeze in a specific, overwhelming way, a mess of words jumbling in her head. how is she supposed to evr be normal around him?

"i'm sorry." the apology comes first because byeol knows what she's about to do. knows she can't hold herself back anymore, feels everything in her being surge her forward, wanting — needing nico. she leans up, squeezing his hands, allowing the tension to still between them; thick, heady, and present. then, finally, star brushes her lips to his. slow, but solid. gentle, yet greedy. "'m sorry," she whispers the apology again against his lips, hands slipping from his so she can snake her arms around his neck. knows she shouldn't be doing this, knows they're at work. but she can't help it anymore. "sorry." she murmurs the word weakly as she opens her mouth, tongue seeking out his. she's just a woman with her lover, standing beside a beautiful fountain.

her hand in his feels like home . their fingers intertwine as if they were made and born to only do that . they're alone , and he knows it , but nico still feels so risky . he feels unsure . unmoored . there are bells ringing in his head , telling him to slow down and remember his job . this is such a risky path to go down when it could mean any harm happens to star . but the very idea of harm coming to her makes his body rigid and stiff . HE COULD NEVER LET THAT HAPPEN . never . the fountain in question is nice , but he can't quite admire it in the way that he's been admiring star in that red dress all night . as soon as he helped zip her into it , all he wanted do was rip it right back off , cover her bare skin in kisses .

a noise leaves nico in surprise . everytime he finds out a little bit more , he realises how much PAIN star has endured . every story ends with a sad , aching end . nico's brow furrows at the way she explains catching her ex with someone here . he looks around the fountain in question , frown becoming even more apparent . NICO HAS MADE IT CLEAR , the way he feels about her ex . he knows there's no point in repeating it . it'd feel like kicking a horse when it's already down and star has suffered enough . nico watches her move around the fountain , fingers mopping up some drops of water . he hums at her mentioning it being a bit much . EVERYTHING in star's world is a lot , all the time . he can't imagine living it for even one day , let alone an entire lifetime . everytime he comes home to his shitty one bedroom apartment , he almost laughs at how different it is. how different it feels . he used to think his apartment was a prison , but he looks at star's life : lush , rich , shiny and expensive . . he can't help but sometimes think it's the exact opposite . star's sudden words make him look at her again , once he's done another cursory , periphery check . still alone . still safe . still quiet . STILL JUST THEM . " . . . i'm sorry . about your ex . " he says finally . " i hate that he treated you that way . " an understatement . nico swallows and carries on . " i know that . " because he does. star is always nothing but thankful . she wears all of her emotions on her face . he can see the lightness within her that he's here , and he likes that he can do that . by , admittedly , not doing very much at all .

star moves closer to him , eyes wide and raw . emotions dance in her pupils . his own gaze stays locked right on her , watching her carefully , unsure of her next move . sometimes he isn't quite sure if he's meant to be watching HER or watching OUT for her . she moves up and presses a kiss to his cheek . nico closes his eyes , allowing the feeling to wash over him . her scent infiltrates his nose . her lips move gently , and again - it takes everything within him to not move his mouth to hers . they both stay still . together . then she moves back , and a quiet laugh leaves him . " it's okay . " nico mumbles out , hand going to hers to stop her from wiping or feeling bad . he intertwines their fingers again and lets it drop by their side . " it's okay . " nico repeats . " are you okay ? "

#star / nico #star / threads #GULPING

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cntloup · 3 months ago

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Gojo Satoru x pregnant!reader

protective!Satoru, fluff, a lil angst, mention of feeling guilty, implied heavy symptoms experienced by the reader

"it's ok, baby. i've got it." Satoru says as he approaches your slouched form over the sink, washing the dishes as you try to get something done and make yourself useful.

you've been feeling guilty during the past month or so, feeling like you were a burden to him, thinking that you would never live up to his expectations. now he has to take care of you. and as time goes by, it will get even worse as your pregnancy progresses. but he's a busy man with heavy responsibilities. you'd be only holding him back. you torture yourself with these thoughts every day.

"oh, thanks. i'll go clean up the living room and do the laundry then." you respond with a forced smile, trying to mask the guilt that's been gnawing at you for a while as you try to keep yourself from falling over out of dizziness.

"what? no, wait! i'll do it after i wash the dishes. you go get some rest. you've done enough." he retorts while gently grabbing your arm, voice slightly raised to stop you immediately.

he is in utter disbelief at your behavior. you should be resting right now, tucked in beneath the soft sheets peacefully. you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about anything, he thinks.

"i haven't done anything all day." you utter in a faintly frustrated tone, mostly at yourself.

"and that's exactly how it should be." he replies with a nod, "now go to bed before i drag you there myself." he adds, maintaining a playful tone, a soft smile adorning his features as he drinks in your beauty. you're already glowing. but considering how observant he is, he senses your discomfort immediately like he can actually feel the gloom and sorrow you're feeling right now like a mother hen.

"what is it, baby? tell me." he murmurs as he walks up to you and pulls you into him by your hips, shining blue eyes staring at you as he awaits a response.

his hand rests on your side as the other cups your jaw, his thumb swiping over your cheek that could be dampened any moment now as you feel tears threatening to spill.

"i'm so sorry." you whisper breathily, voice slightly quivering with the lump in your throat as you look up into his glowing eyes.

"for what?" he asks, confusion evident on his features.

"for being weak. i'm so sorry to disappoint you." you finally spill out the words that have been weighing heavily on your chest as the tears cascade down your glossy eyes.

"disappoint me? i don't understand... why are you crying, love?" he mutters with a shake of his head, his confusion growing even more by your words as his fingers swipe over your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears.

"you're literally the strongest and you're stuck with me. i'm barely even showing yet and i'm feeling extreme fatigue. i've been sleeping all day for the past month cause i can't do anything. and because of the symptoms, i'll probably have to quit my job." you ramble about the thoughts that have been pulling you down all this time.

"wait, wait, wait! how long have you been feeling like this?" he questions with widened eyes baring into your soul.

"eversince we found out i was pregnant. i can't stop feeling guilty about disappointing you." you reply quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it. of course you know you're being irrational. it's all natural to be tired during this time and need help, but you just can't help it.

"you've been feeling like this all this time and you didn't tell me anything?" he blurts out almost too aggressively to his liking, "sorry. didn't mean it to come out that way." he quickly apologizes after witnessing the slight flinch on your part.

how could he not see it? you've been trying to do the chores like regular, pushing yourself to your limit both in the house and on your job until he swoops in and takes the weight off your shoulders. now he starts to blame himself for not finding out sooner and letting you wallow in your own sadness and guilt all alone.

"you're not weak, baby. you're doing the one thing that i can't possibly ever do. the one thing that the strongest can't do. and what does that make you? huh? you're literally the strongest of all, babe. i can't even fathom what you're going through and you're doing amazing-", "i'm barely functioning." you cut him off.

"i'm not done yet, babe." he says playfully before continuing, "you're doing amazing, honey. you sleep not because you can't do anything else but because you need it. you're carrying our child for fuck's sake. a literal human's life is growing inside you and of course it takes its toll on you. and i'm right here beside you every step of the way." he finishes his loving speech with a tender kiss on your forehead as his strong arms wrap around your now slightly shaking form as you sob, utterly moved by his words and also the hormones.

"thank you, Satoru. i really appreciate it. you always know what to say when i'm feeling down." your words are cut off by loud sobs but he patiently waits for you to finish as he rubs your back soothingly while nuzzling his face in your neck.

"any time, baby. i love you." he whispers in your ear, "i love you too, toru." you say back, continuing to sob in his arms for a while before you eventually calm down and he guides you to bed, encouraging you to take some much-needed rest.

"and don't worry about your job. you can take some time off or quit altogether. i have more than enough to pay for our family and the next generations to come-", "ok, stop bragging!" you chuckle, "i'm just saying, baby. i've been dying to spoil you. now's my chance. let me take care of you. you don't have to go through this alone. in fact, i won't even let you." he chuckles lightly and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling away with a loud smack as you both lay in bed, limbs tangled together, "you already spoil me." you mention with a slight pout, "and i'm gonna do it even more. you deserve it, baby. don't worry about anything. i've got it." he says while softly caressing your cheek, admiring your glowing beauty illuminated by the faint bedside light.

you slowly start to feel the sleep creeping in and drift away into a slumber as you mumble a quiet 'thank you', curling into Satoru's side as he holds you so lovingly while you think to yourself how you've been blessed with the best, most loving and supportive partner anyone could ever ask for.

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fioiswriting · 7 months ago

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Muña | one shot

Summary : Marrying your bastard nephew to mend fences between your families wasn't exactly what you had planned. But when you realise that Jace has grown into a strong and handsome man, you might be ready to rethink your plans.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x Aunt!Reader (Reader is Alicent and Visery’s daughter. She’s one year younger than Aegon)

TW : p in v sex, mommy kink, sub!Jace (kinda), Dom!Reader (but they both switch tbh), inappropriate use of the word muña, oral (f receiving), afab reader, incest, unprotected sex, not proofread

Words count : 8064

AN : hi everyone!! I’ve been very busy lately so I haven't had time to update BUT I’ve been working a bit on various fics. Sorry to all my Aemond girlies but today it’s time for some Jace x reader. It’s a fic I’ve written for my gf who’s turning into a Jace girlie 🤭 It's full of indecency and inappropriate things.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

The gardens had become your refuge over the past few days. Under the shade of the trees, on the soft grass, you had found a peaceful haven away from the excitement caused by the arrival of your half-sister and her herd of bastards. The Red Keep made you feel suffocated. And seeing your mother pacing back and forth, running left and right, didn't help. You had to calm her down. You had to keep an eye on your older brother, making sure he didn't slip away into the maze of Flea Bottom for the umpteenth time. You had to hold your family together, and you were tired.

You almost envied Daeron, in Old Town, away from the hustle and bustle of the court.

At least no one would think of looking for you where you were now. And you could enjoy a moment's respite, poring over the thick book you had borrowed from Aemond's library. Had he known that you had entered his room without warning, had he known that you had dared to disturb the perfect tidiness of his precious bookshelves, he would probably have threatened to feed you to Vhagar. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Besides, you could perhaps find a way to pay him back later.

For now, you just needed to be left alone.

You stretched out, arms reaching for the sky. The sun's rays crept through the leaves, their warmth leaving a pleasant sensation on your face. Summer was back and you were delighted. The gentle breeze that ruffled the corners of your book and occasionally lifted the silver curls around your face gave you a sense of freedom. You deftly kicked off your shoes and lay back for a moment, your eyes closed.

Footsteps echoed on the cobbled floor, and you sighed in annoyance. You didn't have to open your eyes to see who it was. You recognised his footsteps. So, you kept your eyes closed. With any luck, he would continue his way and leave you alone to find someone else to annoy.

"Hey, my favourite little sister," Aegon exclaimed as he landed heavily beside you, his body brushing against yours. You opened one eye to acknowledge him, then closed it again, your arms crossed behind your head. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?" he insisted when he saw you weren't answering him. "You know, make sure I don't run off or end up drunk somewhere…Stuff like that. Which our mother probably asked you to do."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was true that Aegon was terribly annoying. But of all your siblings, Aegon was still your favourite.

You resigned yourself to rolling onto your stomach, your chin resting on your hands and your head tilted sideways to face him. "My dear brother," you replied sarcastically. "Unable to occupy yourself, as usual." He rolled his eyes before reaching out to remove a leaf that had gotten caught in your hair. He subtly ran his fingers through one of your curls, his touch as light as a feather. "And why have you decided to come and disturb my moment of peace, tell me?"

He blew the leaf away and you watched as it flew away on the breeze. Your big brother's eyes shone with mischief. "Why would I need a specific reason to spend time with my favourite sister?" he added, and it was your turn to roll your eyes. He moved to lie next to you, his body practically pressed against yours.

If you moved a few centimetres, your elbows would touch his.

You'd always been inseparable, and the habit had stuck over time, even when the teenage years had driven you apart. But in those moments, you were like two children again, ready to run away from Septa lessons to get into mischief in the castle.

“Because you always have a reason for everything,” you replied, and he looked at you with a fake hurt look that was greatly exaggerated. With Aegon it was easy. It had always been easy. He wasn't as serious as Aemond, he wasn't as strange as Helena, and he wasn't as far away as Daeron.

"I just wanted to make sure my little sister was all ready to meet her betrothed tonight." He paused. "And also, that she hadn't suddenly decided to become a pious woman and follow the path of the Seven." His voice lowered. You poked him in the ribs. "See? I'm a caring big brother. I care about you."

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied. He laughed. Then he rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head, one leg bent, and he closed his eyes. The golden rays caught in his long lashes made him look like an angel.

Everything he wasn't.

'Well?' He added. “Excited to see Jacaerys Strong?”

You sat cross-legged. The bracelets on your wrists clinkled. Aegon knew how much the idea horrified you. You had no desire to marry Jace, to sacrifice your freedom for your half-sister's bastard eldest son. You had no desire to leave the Red Keep, to follow him to Dragonstone and spend your life bearing him children. It was your mother and Rhaenyra's idea, of course.

The union of the eldest daughter of one and the eldest son of the other, as a way of repairing the rift that has grown between your families over time.

As if you were destined to mend fences, to undo the mistakes of your own parents.

It wasn't that you hated Jace. But he was your older sister's son, a bastard who had pretensions he shouldn't have precisely because he was a bastard. He was the model son, the perfect son, the prodigy son, the one who always did everything right. It irritated you. He irritated you with his brown curls and his awkward posture.

It wasn't fair that your father showered him with praise when he could barely remember your own name.

You stood up, smoothing the folds of your red dress to make yourself more presentable, and you caught your brother's eyes on your body, his eyes riveted on the thin fabric that revealed your delicate shapes. God, you loved to play with that. You knew how to get men wrapped around your finger with your sweet, innocent air, and Aegon was the first victim. You approached him and held out your arm to help him up, which he accepted by pulling himself to his feet heavily. After putting your shoes back on, you bent down to pick up the thick book in your arms. If you lost it, you could be sure that Aemond would be angry with you. And that was a risk you didn't want to take.

"Perhaps you're right, lēkia. I'd better go and make myself more presentable for my betrothed. I wouldn't wish to disgrace our family." And with that you turned back, your hair swirling in the air behind you as Aegon watched you go with a small smile on his face.

You knew how much Aegon hated being ignored, and even more so when it came from his little sister. You knew that he would return with his tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face. Between his constant whining and his dirty jokes, he gave you little respite, but it was a game that had developed between you; a game that, deep down, you enjoyed.

He was so predictable.

“If I had known you liked strong men, I would have dyed my hair,” you heard him shout from behind you. Aegon wasn't the least bit shy. You shook your head, your silver locks bouncing.

"Get lost, you moron," you replied without even turning around.

The meal in honour of your betrothal promised to be exciting.

***

As soon as he saw you, your nephew rose to pull the chair beside him in a gallant gesture, and you found yourself watching him. Really watching him. His long, broad fingers on the back of the chair. His dark locks falling around his face. His precise features; his straight nose and deep eyes and square jaw. You hadn't realised how much your nephew had changed. He'd grown up too, and he was now a good head taller than you.

He had become a strong man, indeed.

But you refused to admit that Jacaerys Strong had become quite pleasant to look at.

"Princess," he said, pushing the chair back for you to sit down. Fingers brushed the skin of your partly bare shoulders. The touch had lasted a fraction of a second, enough to make you wonder if it had been a figment of your imagination.

"Lord Strong," you replied in greeting. If the words hurt him, Jace didn't show it. Always the perfect son. What would it take to push him over the edge? To crack the shell he'd built around himself? To shatter the image of the gentleman?

To your right, Aegon was already seated. He was holding a glass of wine between his fingers while Aemond seemed to be lecturing him about something you couldn't understand. The exchange between you and Jace had obviously not escaped his notice, and the corner of his mouth had already curled into a smirk. You knew what it meant.

His silence was full of implications, louder than any words.

Your mother had lectured him before dinner, warned him to behave because that was what was expected of him, and she was counting on you to make him obey.

But your older brother didn't say anything. He simply raised his glass in your direction, his lips forming a word that you couldn't read. You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed.

You looked at your nephew. He had donned a gambison in the colours of the Velaryons, and you couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

After all, a bastard in blue was still a bastard.

"Enjoying King's Landing?" you asked your betrothed, in an attempt to start a conversation. His attention turned to you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“It's quite different from what I remember,” he replied, his voice a little lower than usual, his warm eyes meeting yours. “But of course it all depends on the company you are with."

You hesitated, suddenly unsure.

You hated what the sound of his voice did to you. You hated the way his eyes suddenly made you feel vulnerable.

Fuck.

“It all depends on the company, indeed. And do you find yourself in good company tonight, nephew?" You gave him a defiant look, as if to judge his reaction.

As if to unveil what he held within himself.

“I'm not quite sure. Should I?” He paused, one eyebrow raised. He had taken the bait. “What would yousay?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't the malice you usually found in Aegon's eyes when he wanted to tease you. It wasn't the gleam that animated his mind when he came up with a new plan for you to cover.

"I would say I'm in pretty strong company," you replied as you took your cup, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of your lips that you hid behind the glass.

You were cruel, giving him no respite, you knew. But you admired his composure. He hadn't cracked yet.

You knew men who were less patient.

Jace leaned towards you. A slight tilt of the head, just to make sure you were the only one to hear him. As if he wanted to share a secret with you. “Careful, Aunt,” he began, his voice suddenly quieter than before. It was almost a whisper. “I might begin to think you enjoy my company.”

You know I don't, you wanted to reply, but Jace had already straightened up as if nothing had happened, his head turned away from you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Baela give him a questioning look, and an unfamiliar sensation stirred in the pit of your stomach.

An unpleasant heat.

A hint of irritation.

You were annoyed, and you didn't know why.

“Look how handsome your betrothed has made himself for you,” Aegon sneered as he reached for the decanter and leaned in close to your ear. “A true Velaryon, isn't he?” He huffed.

You wanted to slap him on the thigh, make him swallow his mockery.

“If you think he's so handsome, I can happily leave him to you,” you replied, and Aegon's eyes widened. You saw him take a sip of wine, and something deep inside you told you he probably wasn't opposed to the idea. His usual mischievous smile was hidden behind the wine glass, but there was no mistaking his eyes.

Aegon had that tendency to give himself away, and you could read him like an open book.

The meal proved to be as boring as you had imagined. Small talk exchanged over fake smiles. An illusory moment in which everything seemed to be going well for one evening.

You weren't fooled, and you knew it was all a facade. You knew your family well enough to understand that the slightest spark could set things alight. You knew your brothers well enough to realise that all it would take was a simple glance between them to liven up an evening they found dull.

You just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble tonight.

To your left, Jace was still deep in conversation with Baela. They had that kind of complicity that made your blood boil inside; a shared laugh that sounded in your ear like the squeaky music you hated. You frowned. It was you, his betrothed. It was you, not Baela, and you didn't understand why that statement was suddenly so important.

After all, you despised this union. You hated Jace. You had no desire to promise him the rest of your life.

Jace was a bastard, and you deserved better.

So why did the sight of him touching Baela's hand cause a twinge of jealousy in your body?

His fingers brushed over hers absently. A light touch on her knuckles.

And all you felt was fire.

And then. Then, your fingers slipped under the wooden table.

You knew you were playing with fire. And you knew that if anyone paid too much attention to what you were doing, they would see that you weren't exactly behaving like the perfect Princess Targaryen you were supposed to be.

But you didn't care.

You let your fingers wander, running along the outside of Jace's thigh before moving up to settle in the hollow that connected his thigh to his hip. With a faint touch, your fingertips brushed the inside of his thigh, and then lower, tracing small circles through the fabric that was already beginning to tighten.

Jace almost choked.

He spat out the contents of his glass, his dark gaze fixed on you. Everyone had fallen silent, their heads turned towards him. Rhaenyra's eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

And you hadn't removed your hand.

An innocent smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wondered if Aegon could read you. If he could see that look on your face, so similar to his own. That distinctive feature you shared.

Deciding to play with your prey a little longer, you put on your best fake concerned face, pretending to be worried about his health.

"Are you all right, Jacaerys?" you asked, your voice a little higher than usual as your nails dug into the fabric of his breeches. Not to hurt him, of course. Just enough to wake a certain part of him, just enough to remind him that you were his betrothed.

He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I swallowed wrong,” he replied.

Your fingers crept a little higher, trying to explore his upper thigh, where you knew your nephew would be sensitive. You didn't want to be rational tonight, you wanted to let the fire take over and consume you.

You wanted to let the sleeping dragon within you awaken.

The taste of the forbidden was divine, and the heat spreading through your lower belly was too delicious to stop now.

"Be careful, mandianna. We're not married yet." you said. We're not married yet and look where I've got my fingers. You kept your thoughts to yourself. "I wouldn't want to find myself a widow already," you replied in High Valyrian, amused, and Jace looked at you with his big brown eyes, somewhere between anger and excitement, embarrassment and curiosity.

Under the table, out of sight, your hand brushed the stretched fabric where you could read the confirmation of what he was feeling, the manifestation of his desire.

He was hard.

Perfect.

It was you who provoked this.

He responded to your touch.

You felt a familiar breath on the back of your neck and realised Aegon was leaning against you again. He was pretending to serve you some of the vegetables that had just been brought in for the starter, taking the opportunity to whisper in your ear as he did so well. "Try to be more discreet, little sister," he chuckled softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper to make sure no one heard you. Discreetly, he nodded to where your hand still rested on your nephew's thigh. He tilted his head. "Rhaenyra is right in front of us. Do you think she can see what you're doing to her son under the table?"

He put on his best disinterested face. As if the words exchanged between you were nothing more than banalities.

As if he weren't commenting on the indecent deeds you were doing under the table, unworthy of a girl of your rank.

"Shut up, Aegon," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. You didn't want him drawing any more of your family's attention to you, especially when you hadn't finished playing.

Your big brother gave you a knowing wink, as if to promise you that your secret was safe with him.

And you decided to continue entertaining yourself with the new game you'd invented.

You were bold, and you decided that if Jace didn't already know it, he would find out soon enough.

***

It wasn't that Jace was disappointed with his betrothal. You were divine, and the dress you wore made you so regal that he couldn't keep his attention anywhere but on your body, on your cleavage so gracefully offered to his gaze.

It was precisely why he had turned to Baela, why he had tried to distract himself with their conversation, why he had desperately tried to find something else to hold on to.

Because you were making him lose his footing. And that was a feeling he hated.

No, Jace did not regret his betrothal. You were everything a man could want; you were beautiful, you were regal, you were clever, and above all, you were a Targaryen. A princess. The king's daughter.

The only problem was you were distant and elusive.

Jace remembered your pretensions and mockeries from his childhood. He remembered the little brat you were, following in your older brother's footsteps. He remembered a little girl with a strong temper, who knew what she wanted. He remembered the pranks, not just the ones he'd taken part in, like the Pink Dread, but the ones that had turned against him because of you and Aegon, too.

It was clear that the little girl you had once been, taller than him, with long silver curls and an air of self-assurance far too confident for her young age, had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And that was something Jace hadn't considered.

He couldn't concentrate on his conversation with Baela, not when your fingers were digging through the linen of his breeches into the flesh of his thigh, as if to remind him to whom he had been promised.

Your fingers, slender, light, burning against his inner thigh.

He clenched his jaw.

All around him, the words and faces of the guests mingled in a swirl of sound and colour. Fuck.

Fuck.

His breeches were really becoming too tight.

You'd dared to do that. You'd dared to slip your fingers under the table, in front of everyone, and Jace didn't know whether to admire your audacity or wrap his fingers around your wrist and force you to take them off.

Suddenly he felt hot, a familiar warmth spreading between his loins.

He wasn't sure he could get up, not with his member pulsing between his thighs.

Fuck. You weren't supposed to make him feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel such a desire for you when you weren't officially married.

This dinner was about officially declaring your betrothal, not consummating a union not yet pronounced.

He was trying to calm down. He tried to ground himself back into reality. Perhaps by staring intently at the contents of his plate he could ignore the sensation of your fingers rising dangerously high; the desperate need to finally have your fingers wrapped around his manhood.

His knees slammed into the table in a sudden movement.

Your fingers had just brushed the bulge that had formed between his thighs.

And he needed more, infinitely more.

You couldn't have the cruelty to arouse such lust in him and then leave him like that. He would never forgive you.

"Stop that," he growled in your direction, low enough for no one else to hear.

But you still had that damn innocent smile, that damn audacity to act as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mandianna." Nephew. The sound of the High Valyrian rolling off your tongue sent a wave of heat between his legs. Seven hells, you were going to be the death of him.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

More of your fingers around him, more of your tongue against his length, more of that innocent look on your face as you knelt before him, more of your tight cunt.

Jace was on the verge of losing it. You'd made him a slave to his own desire. You had closed your claws around him and he knew there was no turning back now.

“If you play with fire too much, you might get burned, muña," Jace retorted, leaning towards you, and he felt the imperceptible movement of your hand twitching at the threat. Aunt.

Despite his dwindling strength, King Viserys tried to make a speech about family, betrothal, and a whole host of other undoubtedly honourable values, but neither you nor Jace paid any attention. You were caught up in your own game.

Then Jace stood up, forcing you to remove your hand.

You could see he was uncomfortable, for you knew where to look, for you knew what you had done.

You knew he had a painful erection between his thighs, and it was all because of you.

But you could only admire your nephew's composure.

“To my uncles, Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. I have fond memories of our shared childhood.” His glass between his fingers, he raised it in the direction of his uncles, then turned to you. "And to my sweet and beautiful bride-to-be, who I'm sure will never cease to surprise me with her daring and surprising side. May our marriage be filled with joy and satisfaction".

The toasts continued, as did the meal. The servants had brought the rest of the dishes consisting of steaming meat and tasty garnishes. It was almost too joyous, almost too happy to be real. As if there was a threat lurking somewhere in the corner.

But Jace still had to teach you a lesson.

The music started, the sound of instruments filling the room. Jace apologised to Baela and walked over to his aunt. His other aunt. Your sister.

And you felt the anger return; the same inner turmoil as before.

Jace had held out his hand to Helaena and led her to dance a little further away. You immediately exchanged a questioning look with your brother, who had also stared at Jace in disbelief as he had walked away on your little sister's arm.

"So?" Aegon began. "It seems your betrothed didn't appreciate your little game?" You glared at him, but he just scoffed. "If he changes his mind... You know I like it."

You wondered if you could do the same. You wondered if you could ask Aegon to dance and if Jace would feel the same bubbling inside him, the same jealousy coursing through his veins.

You hated that feeling.

You shouldn't feel that kind of emotion, especially not for him.

You obviously didn't see it, too focused on your own annoyance, but Jace kept glancing in your direction, as if to make sure you saw him.

He wanted to make you jealous. He wanted to fuel the feeling he'd identified in you. He wanted to catch you at your own game. And one thing was certain, Jace hadn't played all his cards yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, your betrothed returned to sit beside you, Helena going back to her own seat. You were less and less able to hide your annoyance, and no doubt Jace noticed, for he leaned towards you, a satisfied look on his face. "Your sister is very sweet," he murmured. He knew very well that this simple phrase would be enough to send you over the edge.

You liked attention. You liked compliments. You liked to be praised.

You said nothing back. But Aegon had his trademark grin, the one that stretched his lips when he had a devious plan, and he was already getting up on the pretext of serving Baela some wine so he could whisper in his nephew's ear. "I know my little sister can be particularly demanding.” He paused. “And difficult to tame. So if you ever need any advice... Or demonstrations…"

Jace was fuming, but he knew he had to keep his cool. It was Aegon, typical Aegon, to push his buttons, to succeed in making him suddenly unsure of himself, to make his mind confused. His fingers closed around his cup, his jaw clenched, and it took all his self-control not to throw the contents in his uncle's face.

He didn't even look at Aegon, who had returned to his seat with a triumphant smile.

But you felt something under the table. Something slipped between the folds of your dress, along your skin, discreetly, lightly, a delicious touch against your skin that made you want more.

Your eyes widened.

Jace.

Jace the perfect son. Jace the model son.

Jace slipping his fingers under your dress, touching the skin of your thigh, rising dangerously high where you could already feel the wetness forming in the crease between your thighs.

This was the moment he snapped, you knew it. You hadn't heard your brother's words, you had only seen him lean towards your betrothed, but you knew he must have struck a chord with Jacaerys Velaryon. That he had probably touched his weak spot.

Or perhaps you were just getting your comeuppance. After teasing him, after making him hard and desperate.

Jace moved his hand, tracing the space where your skin was soft and tender, all the way up your thigh, with a slow, gentle touch. His hand moved further towards the centre of you, where you were sensitive, and he brushed against your crotch. He didn't even need to apply any pressure with his fingertips to tell that you were wet.

Your hips automatically moved towards his hand in search of more contact, causing you to wiggle in your chair. All you wanted to do was grab his wrist, force him to slide his fingers under the fabric separating you, force him to touch you right here. But you were still at dinner and the game was becoming far too dangerous.

"I told you to be careful," Jace whispered as he withdrew his fingers and resumed his serious gaze, his fingers fidgeting on the wood of the table. “Two can play at this game.”

And then perhaps the Seven heard you. Perhaps they were offering you a way out. To be honest, you weren't sure if it was a miracle or a curse. For Aemond had risen, and he had done what he did best; he had made a mocking and provocative speech to his nephews.

Everything happened quickly. Jace and Luke leapt to their feet to answer the provocation, Aemond and Aegon were ready to fight back, and even Baela and Rhaena were prepared to defend their family. You had no time to move, no time to react, for dinner was already over, and so was your little game of cat and mouse with Jace.

This was your way out, you knew it. You were tired of sitting around a table listening to boring speeches. And the entertainment that had consisted of sliding your fingers under the table to push Jacaerys Strong over the edge had now turned against you.

"I shall rest," you warned your mother, who was deep in conversation with Rhaenyra, her features wrinkled with worry. "Tonight's events have left me somewhat tired. And I think a night's rest would do me a world of good." She nodded, stroking your hair, and you knew instinctively what she was thinking. Always the perfect daughter.

And as you passed through the heavy door of the dining room, you hurried off in a direction that was not that of your room.

Oh, but if she knew.

***

Thankfully, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the slightest desire to run into a guard who would ask you where you were going or escort you to your room for security reasons.

Your steps were as discreet as possible on the stone floor, like those of a small mouse. You moved quickly, stealthily, almost on tiptoe.

Only the crackle of the fire broke the heavy silence between the cold walls, where the dancing shadows of the flames distorted.

You slowed your pace. You had a doubt. You weren't sure which door was the one you were looking for.

And then suddenly, as you reached the end of the corridor, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you against the wall, away from prying eyes. A strong grip, as if it didn't want to let you vanish again.

Jace was holding you between the wall and his own body. Despite the darkness, you could see his eyes shining in the candlelight, fueled by a devouring hunger you didn't know he possessed. He stared at you for a moment. His eyes in yours. A tension hung between you, burning, ready to consume you both, and you were completely willing.

Gently yet firmly he turned your body. Your chest against the cold wall, your back against his warm chest, and you pulled your hips back to provoke him. You wouldn't succumb so easily, not to Jacaerys.

He pressed himself against you, moving his pelvis forward so you could feel his hard member against the top of your buttocks.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me?" Another thrust of his hips. "Can you feel the effect you're having on me?" He pressed harder against you. Through the layers of fabric between you, you could almost feel him throb. Gods, he seemed big. "Teasing me all evening... Such a tease, aren't you?"

If it wasn't the consequence of your own actions.

You stifled a moan with your arm so as not to attract any patrolling guards. What you were doing was dangerous. At any moment you could be caught. At any moment you could be in big trouble.

But you couldn't stop now. Not when the best was yet to come.

You moved again, seeking more contact, seeking to make Jace harder and more painful than he already was, and you turned your head to challenge him. "What if it's you who's just too weak?"

You felt his hoarse breath against the back of your neck, at the base of your hair. He seemed to be hesitating, thinking. About what he was going to do to you, about what he was going to do to make sure you were responsible for your actions. Again he turned you so that you had your back to the wall, facing him, and you recognised the gleam of desire in his eyes.

Towering over you, he lowered his gaze to you, your faces inches apart. For a moment he let his eyes devour you, wandering from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your breasts, visible through the fabric of your dress. He wanted to keep this image printed behind his eyelids; your half-open lips, your pleading gaze, like that of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

You looked ravishing.

"Tell me to stop," Jace murmured. And you knew it was the sensible thing to do, you knew it was better to stop everything now, while it was still possible to turn back. For you weren't married yet.

But you had no desire to be responsible.

His fingers curled around a lock of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, waiting for your answer before continuing.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you replied, your eyes locked with his. He felt your hand against his cheek as you detailed his face, tracing his well-sculpted cheeks, and he longed for more contact, his face seeking the warmth of your palm.

You put your arms around his neck to draw him closer, to close the distance between your lips, to feel his warmth against your body.

To quench this desire, this need that was becoming uncontrollable.

And your lips met in a feverish, urgent kiss. He pressed you further against the wall, his fingers running down your sides, brushing against the breasts he so craved.

He found your hips and his fingers worked frantically up the bottom of your dress in a crumpled ball of fabric to reach your core. "Look at how wet you are." His fingers brushed your folds through your undergarments. "All of this just for teasing me." He pressed one hand against the wall, still leaning against you, but not giving you what you wanted: his hand had stopped, and you tried to wiggle your hips to force him to continue, to force him to give you what you wanted.

Deep down, you loved the way he was losing control.

You loved that side of Jace you didn't know.

So you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers under the last barrier that separated his skin from yours.

The sensation was delicious.

The touch of his warm fingers against your folds sent a wave of heat from your lower belly through your entire body. You didn't want him to stop. "Here." You breathed against his lips. "This is where muña needs you." Aunt. He tensed beneath you, and you wondered if it was the ambiguity of the family tie, uttered in High Valyrian, that had such an effect on him.

You let your lips brush against his.

He collected your wetness on his fingers, exploring the slit between your folds up to your little pearl. You were soaking wet. And you desperately needed him inside you.

His fingers slid down to your opening where he applied a little pressure with the tip of his index finger without ever penetrating you.

"I know," he murmured, drawing small circles before abandoning your opening to return to your bud. "But I can't give you what you want now."

You whimpered under his cruelty, against his lips.

You could see through his game.

He wanted to make you beg, but you weren't the kind to beg. You were the one with the power and you were going to show him.

"We shouldn't stay here," you muttered, rubbing yourself against your nephew's hand. "If someone catches us..."

Jace nodded his head in agreement, withdrawing his fingers glistening with your juice, which you guided to his own lips, spreading the stickiness against his lips.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me."

And with that, he pulled you into his room.

***

Lying on the bed where you'd pushed him, Jace watched as you removed your dress, his prominent erection stretching the fabric of his breeches. The dress fell to the floor, forming a red puddle that you stepped over, one foot after the other.

Your nephew couldn't look away from your hypnotic figure, but his eyes inevitably wandered back to your breasts. You'd seen him glancing at your cleavage all evening, you could tell he wanted to run his fingers over your soft flesh, his lips over your nipples, and now that you were completely naked in front of him, you could see the unmistakable desire in his eyes.

You walked up to him. He clenched his jaw when he saw you. You, and the perfection of your shape, your little pointed nipples, the tantalising path that led from your chest to the space between your thighs where he knew you were soaked for him.

The flat of your hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lie down between the pillows. He complied, never breaking the eye contact between the two of you, and you took your place on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. His husky breath escaped through his parted lips, lightly caressing your face.

You were naked, he was still dressed, and you had infinite power over him.

You lowered your hips against his covered crotch, the essence of your desire staining the linen of his breeches as your hips began to move slowly.

You leaned down and traced his jaw with the tip of your lips, planting kisses along his throat. Underneath you, his member twitched. Mimicking what he'd done earlier, you let your fingers rest on the painful bulge between his legs and whispered, "I know." You applied a little more pressure, drawing a moan from between his lips. "I know it's painful. But I can't give you what you want right now."

Jace growled. He wanted to turn you over, slam you against the mattress, pound into you and make you swallow your insolence. But he wanted to see how far you were willing to go. He wanted to see you keep control for a while longer.

You deftly undid his breeches to make it easier for your hand to slip through. You found his hard member, warm and heavy between your fingers.

It was a new sensation. As a model princess, you'd never ventured into this territory, saving your maidenhood for your future husband.

But Jace was your future husband.

You closed your fingers around him, your thumb collecting the sticky beads that had already formed at the tip of his cock and spreading it along his length.

"First I want to come on your tongue," your lips articulated against the skin of his throat as the hand that was in his breeches moved up his torso to close around his jaw, your thumb caressing his lower lip to emphasise your words. "Will you let me?" you added. In response, he let the tip of his tongue slip between his lips, touching the pad of your finger. "Let me show you," he whispered.

And indeed, Jace worked devotedly between your thighs, his tongue tracing the length of your slit, drinking in your essence as it flowed from your entrance like a delicious nectar. His tongue tickled your little knob, his thumbs spreading your folds to gain access to the treasure he coveted.

One of his fingers found your hole clenching around nothing, tracing small circles against it to force you to voice what you wanted. "Do you need me here?" he whispered against your flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending shivers through your core. Your hands buried themselves in the dark mass of his hair and you moved your hips against his face, urging him to maintain the contact of his mouth against you. "Use your words, muña," he added, despite his nose being buried between your folds.

When you gave him the answer he was waiting for, he let a finger enter you in a delicious stretch. You held back a moan, your fingers digging deeper into his hair, not caring if you were hurting him or not. He continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, like a thirsty man, like a devoted man.

You wouldn't last long, your release close.

Jace then added a second finger. The sensation of his fingers inside you, against that rough spot, combined with that of his tongue between your folds, against your pearl, was simply divine.

"Go on," Jace started, but you immediately cut him off. "Shut up." You didn't want him to speak. You wanted him to continue with his damn tongue, with his broad fingers inside you. You didn't want him to stop. "I am... I am close."

And your climax washed over your entire body like a wave of warmth. Your legs closed around your nephew's face.

It was probably one of the best sensations you'd ever experienced.

Still between your legs, his fingers gripping your thighs, Jace collected your arousal on his tongue, sending shivers of overstimulation down your spine, and your whole body shuddering in a brutal spasm. You straightened up, knees still bent, your hand returning to your nephew's hair to guide him over you, his face close to yours. You stroked his cheek gently, as if to let him know he was a good boy, and your thumb picked up the sticky fluid that was smeared all over the bottom of his face.

You were both out of breath. You from the intense release you'd felt, he from the dedication he'd shown.

A smirk formed at the corner of your lips, and you pressed your thumb between his lips to ensure he didn't waste anything. Jace tilted his face close to yours. "You taste divine," he breathed, turning your cheeks red. "But now I need to be inside you."

His fingers slipped between your thighs, where your centre was pulsing, still far too sensitive from the ministrations he had given you.

"You can give me another, can't you?" He asked, and you nodded, so sore.

After he undressed, Jace pushed on your shoulders to make you lie down, but you skilfully changed positions, taking him by surprise.

You were unwilling to give him the power he wanted, not yet.

Straddling him, you moved your hips to rub your crotch against his erect manhood, spreading your wetness along his length. Beneath you, his torso rose and fell rapidly, and the grunts he let out conveyed his need for more. So your hand sought his hard member, guiding it to your entrance without letting it penetrate you. "So?" you asked playfully. "Do you think you've been a good boy ? Do you think you deserve to be inside me?" You wanted to make him beg, and Jace could see right through you. "To be the first?" you added, lowering your voice slightly, as if you were telling him a secret.

But he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

So he capitulated, giving you the defeat you'd been waiting for.

"Yes." he breathed. "Please." Your victorious smile stretched your lips and you guided him further against you, pressing his erection against your opening. Fuck. He was massive.

He was about to breathe a sigh of relief, ready to feel your velvet walls tighten around him, but you blocked his hip movement.

It wasn't enough.

"Please who?" you asked, your fingers moving back and forth around his manhood. He glared at you. You were gloating. "Please, muña," he finally begged, and you gave him what he wanted.

You lowered your hips to let him slide into you in a long thrust that stretched you around him. He was indeedmassive, and the new sensation of having him inside you was a delicious mix of dull pain and burning pleasure. You stood still for a moment to adjust to his presence inside you, your core throbbing around him. The initial pinch gradually dissipated, replaced by a pleasant sensation that sent a wave of warmth through your body.

And then he began to thrust in and out, pushing up to sink into you. "Fuck...fuck, you're tight," Jace growled. Your loose hair cascaded down either side of your face, tickling his cheeks, and he caught it in a messy bun to hold it behind your head.

You could feel the same pleasure as before building up in your lower abdomen.

Gods, you could feel him so intensely. So deeply too. Bouncing rhythmically against that particular part of you.

You buried your head in his neck, his woody scent filling your nostrils.

It was primal. Animal, between the two of you. All that mattered was the here and now. Your body against his, the sweat beading between you, the moans filling the room.

Jace tugged at your hair, causing you to throw your head back, freeing access to your chest, and he straightened up into a sitting position, his member still deep inside you, to find your breast. He buried his face in it and your hand instinctively found the back of his head to stroke his hair. Jace's lips traced a trail of kisses down the valley between your breasts, following the curve of your flesh before closing around your nipple, which he sucked gently. One of his arms wrapped around you to hold you tight against him, his other hand resting on the breast he wasn't devouring.

You stayed like that for a while, your legs on either side of him, his mouth seeking solace in your breasts, the divine sensation of being full, with him inside you, in the softness of the night, the flames rocking your lovemaking.

One of Jace's arms finally found your back and in one swift movement he reversed position. He desperately needed more, sensing that he wouldn't last long.

He pinned you beneath him, against the mattress, your legs immediately closing around him and the pace quickened. His thrusts became more messy, more sloppy because of your two combined essences. "You're mine, now" he grunted, and you shivered. His index and middle fingers wandered between your folds, caressing the spot where you were joined before moving to the pearl hidden at the top of your slit. "Am I?" you replied teasingly. You could feel him throbbing inside you. "Then be a good boy now and give muña your seed."

That was the spark that ignited the fire. Jace quickened the rhythm of his hips, his fingers still buried between your folds, his movements erratic. With each of his thrusts, you felt his member hitting that sensitive spot against your spongy inner walls. You tensed and for the second time that evening, your release flooded your entire body. You were followed by your nephew as Jace spilled into you, his seed painting white ropes against your womb.

He lay still inside you for a moment, his cock softening as you both caught your breath, your hands in his dark curls, his head at the nape of your neck.

You winced as he withdrew from your still sensitive core, his now cold seed flowing between your thighs. Jace dropped down beside you, satisfied. Then you turned to him. You grabbed his wrist one last time and guided his fingers to your centre, where your folds were smeared with the remnants of your lovemaking.

"Look how much you've left inside me," you whispered into his ear, making Jace collect his own seed on his fingertips and push it back into you. "I'm going to keep it all inside me, would you like that, sweet boy?" you whispered again.

And Jace pulled you against him to kiss you, his member stirring between his thighs, against you. It was true that he'd given you the upper hand this time. But he was ready to show you what he could do. You snuggled up against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

"Perhaps…We should bring the wedding date forward."

And he smiled.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic

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kalims · 11 months ago

Text

he's a ten but he...

premise. sometimes certain bad habits of theirs make their overall rating just a tad bit lower—besides the fact that they keep doing it.

characters. dorm leaders

content. gender neutral reader

malleus (doesn't have a sense of space)

"look beastie, that flower is a native of ours,"

"I agree mal, but I didn't think you taking up the entirety of my seat will make me see it better,"

he blinks, then shrugs.

like i said, has NO sense of space.

if an average person would make an excuse to constantly be in physical contact with who they admire, then malleus is the complete opposite. well, not entirely but he doesn't even bother to construct an explanation as to why he's literally sat over your seat when you coincidentally get put in a table together.

if you start questioning him about it the most you'll get in a very outright 'because he wanted to.' it's not even one of those sarcastic replies he's 100% serious!

cause he believes there's no use in lying about things to be honest.. to further emphasize that, if he ever acts like he does hold fondness for you that surpasses the platonic meter but doesn't mention it he probably hasn't realized yet.

if he did he'd already walk over and bluntly tell you about it.

(I wish I could be that unbothered.)

lilia thinks it's the cutest thing though. you swear you see flashes of light for a split second from the ceiling but when you look up there's only a suspicious swinging chandelier.

^ totally has his own album full of pictures.

if malleus ever discovers it he won't even be disturbed, probably would ask for a copy 💯

since human lives, and their bodies are so fragile he'd taken it upon himself to protect you from harm. even if it means trailing behind you everywhere way too close for comfort, or standing a bees wing away.

while he is respectful most of the time, he's encouraged if you don't comment. if anything, he seems pleased you dont seem to be bothered! (and it'll get harder to tell him to stop when he's so happy the more you let it happen..)

"child of man, have you slept?"

*starts leaning his body forward, to squint at your eyes.* practically right in front of your face.

"WTF."

not even a warning or anything! but atleast he's concerned?

idia (won't even show up for anything and insists a 'virtual' date is better.')

user: where tf r u??

ghoul666: WDYM? at the dorm?

user: IVE BEEN WAITING HERE FOR 20 MINUTES

unintentionally stood you up 💀

you literally have to tell him that you're waiting for him to arrive at the specified area you discussed where your date would take place but would end up vastly irritated when he questions if you guys even did.

ghoul666: we do??

user: I'm taking my minecraft bed away from urs.

ghoul666: NO PLS

ghoul666: HELLO????

next time you log in minecraft it's probably because he begged you to play, you WILL end up seeing some kind of structure that probably took days to make. that's not even the entire thing cause the inside is entirely decorated to your taste.

in short: he constructed some kind of venue for a wedding.. even changed his skin to wear a tuxedo 😭

though he has sparked your pettiness, hence the ignoring him period. even you have got to admit that it's freaking adorable...

big sign, emphasis on please: Im sorry pls put ur minecraft bed back I can't sleep w/o u and I have to wait entire days for it to turn into morning :(

with what he's built you're sure it's 65% true.

if you do end up forgiving him, few weeks later attempting to schedule another date will only end up in naught.

ghoul666: can we not go there

user: 😐

user: you are testing my patience love

ghoul666: 😓 (he is screeching about the term of endearment part btw KABSJAJSAJA ortho would enter his room very concerned.)

ghoul666: how abt

ghoul666: mimic together? call

user: sighs

user: I'm only agreeing cause I want to spend time with you

queue more screeching from his end that you're completely oblivious to.

the only screeching you're gonna hear though is when you guys do get into call as you play, and it's mainly out of terror when his soul gets sent to the void ascending when the entity pops out of a corner and starts chasing him.

"I GOT THIS. ILL CARRY U THIS IS FINE" *screams again* but really wants to impress you so he pushes through.

unsurprisingly does carry you.

asks to match avatars right after (idia love languange)

vil (frets over you way too much.)

"vil, did you see the chocolate in the freezer?"

"oh, that? I noticed that you've already gone through the ideal number of bars this week so I took it upon myself to make sure you don't go sick on me,"

"I love you but please give it back—"

"I love you too, and no."

disclaimer: he does this for your own good 😜 (average mom excuse.)

looks out for you more than he does for his own dorm residents. everyone is wondering where he ran off to after class, especially since he's the one that scheduled the pomefiore meeting every fridays!

and to think he was the one getting irritated over the more newer first years for being late..

*shows up literally half an hour in*

why you ask? you simply shouldn't have texted him about abandoning your daily walk together through the gardens in favor of catching sleep since you called in sick (you're suspicious if crewel really did go in to check for proof, and not concern.)

vil's really feeling the absolute regret of not checking his phone during classes.. well, he only saw the message which was coincidentally sent like somehow ONE minute after the lecture started and he's only seeing it 59 minutes later.

oh you poor thing!! though the lunch break is short, he has about 5 minutes for a trip to the mirror chamber..

you'd think the 'seen' icon below your message was a weird omen for something you're not sure but it must be doom cause vil is right at the front porch of your crappy dorm. at his own expense?! looking more disheveled than you've seen him before.

if a few stray hairs was disheveled at all. more importantly, he still looked drop dead gorgeous!

you probably looked quite terrible with the blanket draped around your shoulders looking like you just crawled out of your grave, because he looked absolutely mortified at your state.

"oh great sevens.." he looked like he was faint, huffing and fanning himself with his hand. "look at you, why didn't you tell me sooner, darling?"

you blink, swallowing to make your throat less dry but your voice still comes out raspy. "I did, like an hour ago—" without your invitation whatsoever, he steps in. promptly shutting the door behind him (which surprisingly still stands sturdy.)

vil takes a hold of your shoulders before reaching his hands upwards to tilt your face around. "you should have sent earlier," he says. you keep in the comment that you were sleeping during it, and you told him about it during second period so.. "your face is so pale."

you sigh.

"yeah, I just saw. I know, I look hideous right now."

vil frowns at you, stopping to angle your face at him. "don't ever say that. I always find you beautiful even if you are.." he glances at you from face to toe, then back up. "sickly."

"... I feel offended."

"hmph, shush now. let me draw you a bath then I know something that will boost your system."

after much coaxing in his end, you reluctantly take a warm bath in the hopefully hygienic bathroom. true to his word, vil did... concoct something. though it looked pretty the random steam that flew from it was really suspicious.

the residents don't dare to question, except rook of course. who already knew what transpired! :)

epel: 😃 (atleast vil wasn't around.)

"roi du poison~ tell me, tell me! is the trickster well? have you cured them with your love?"

"rook, you have 5 seconds to get out of my face."

rook giggles away.

kalim (thinks money will buy anything, including your forgiveness.)

"here!" there's a suspiciously bright smile on his face as he hands you.. some keys?

you deadpan, jingling it in your hands. it weighs heavy than the average, probably because of the fact that it's literally made of gold. "... kalim what is this?" you emit a sigh, from suspicion and concern.

"a gift!"

"wait why does it say lot 111--"

as you can already, that was an actual, literal house. which you imagine would probably be a lots more grand, and new compared to your old baby ramshackle.

but you do love it despite it's love for falling apart at the most inconvenient of times..

fighting with kalim was rare but it was hard to even argue with him because the notion of disagreements are so bizarre to him that he unintentionally doesn't treat you seriously with your concerns, accidentally downplaying them aaaand now you're upset.

after the ranting to jamil about how you must be busy with a lot, since you haven't even talked to him in the past 2 days. all it took was a side glance to his friend in denial and jamil immediately knew.

"what do you mean they're mad!? D:"

"just.. go apologize, I don't want to get caught up in this."

if his definition of an apology is buying you an entire house...

( ^ it is btw.)

kalim really doesn't mean any harm. he just really wants to sate whatever anger you held for him <- maybe he's overthinking it but it's kalim so he's 99% sure it's his fault! even though it hasn't even been confirmed from your end he'd probably accept it whole heartedly.

he wanted you to talk to him again so badly that he wouldn’t mind showering you with houses... since your living situation doesn't live up to your kindness (sorry ramshackle love u xx)

you know what. he wouldn't even notice he's the reason you're upset at first even though he's been asking around on who put you in that mood. despite himself being the perpetrator but he didn't really know that did he?

the only reason he does is because he assumed you were just because you avoided him like some sort of.. cockroach! (he dislikes those.) and he couldn't take it anymore.

was probably 1 sec away from barging into your dorm which wouldn't take a lot of effort since one ram to the door would probably break it.

bless jamil for jailing all the carpets so kalim doesn't find them.

even if said carpets fling him off when he's riding them.

"kalim, why would you buy a literal house... and you also got a rare address paid--"

"for them! ;D"

"... you do know they'd be more offended by the fact that you'd try to replace that.., ahem. dorm, right?"

"oh... should I buy them a vehicle then?"

you only promise to forgive him once he takes back the keys, and the house entirely...

(grim begged you to keep it, 'house for him apparently.')

azul (keeps trying to offer you discounts thinking it's a good excuse to have you over.)

"I assure you. you'll find no deal better than this."

"I'm not even that hungry for sea food, actually I'm craving some--"

"you're in luck then! ahem, it's 26% off due to a special event for today."

pro tip: keep insisting to eat at other places cause he's gonna keep increasing the discount by 2% until you eventually relent. once, you made him go to the point of 75% off, it's almost hilarious if not for the fact it only worked once.

now he won't go last 50!

ahem. if you look closely you can almost spot tiny cracks accumulating with each denial you respond with, and each increase of his discount. he's grown to be wary about the bullshit 'lucky' promos you just happen to stumble on.

last time you did he practically lost a week's worth of the presumed income he's predicted cause you actually went around and told your first year friends about it... who.. in turn told some, other friends of theirs about it and you could guess.

love must hurt.. and unfortunately it's his wallet wailing.

but azul is not so easily swayed by this! for you have swayed him first! *wink wonk*

but azul has another trick up his sleeve... keeping on roping jade and floyd into it; whom are far too enthusiastic cause finally— something fun to do! someone to bother! not only have you got the most stubborn octopus having frequent suspicious 'deals' but here are his equally suspicious lackeys.

who keeps.. talking about fried octopus..

yeah, you're not sure if preaching about azul’s species is the job they were assigned.

they're fairly easy to point in the right direction anyways. the tweels have always associated you with the word 'fun' so just a little, friendly suggestion from and they were off to their merry way. mortifying every single person you come across with their sudden attachment.

one of their tricks? following you around. and just somehow, every single place you enter is just mysteriously full even though you peered inside and there was like 7 tables empty. what are they hosting? ghosts? spirits?

...

they do look like they've seen some though..

jade rn: "a shame indeed, you must be hungry. why don't we escort you back to monstro lounge?" :)

long story short you can't even reply cause the sleek eel is already guiding you around by the use of his hands on your shoulders. just to make sure you don't stray away from the destination, he says.

"didn't you say that yesterday's promo was like, a one day thing?" you quirk a brow, and you almost fool yourself into thinking he flinched.

azul clears his throat. "well—today is.. the month before you've graced octavinelle with your assistance—"

he praises himself for his quick thinking.

COME ON! it doesn't matter if you're sick of eating stir fried shrimp, or the butter one, or every single dish they serve that includes shrimp! (also do not mention that you ate somewhere else before you just decide to visit his dorm because that establishment just mysteriously got filed a non-legal business report.)

then you've got floyd chasing you around with a fork. which is more terrifying because he's holding it in a notion that would seem like he'd just stab down at you when he catches up with your little goose chase.

it's just.. you're not sure if your stomach could take another bite of the poor food he stabbed into, and is now chasing you around with.

you screech. "JADE PLEASE."

the man shrugs. "it's a free taste."

"AZUL."

"... only on a condition of course."

frankly. it took all the balls he had to actually sputter out the most simplest sentence ever, cause during the time he rehearsed that in front of his mirror it just plagued him with embarrassment but he's getting desperate.

'I'd like to take you out to dinner, somewhere else of course.'

actually, maybe obliterating any possible craving for the food of his lounge just might've been part of his plans to ask you out..?

leona (prevents you from actually being productive via dragging you down to 'nap' every. single. time.)

"I will literally fail if you don't let go of me right now."

"hmph. so what? it's not like failing a grade killed anyone."

"leona just because you've lived through a lot of fails doesn't mean I have to, we're not all rich enough to not finish school."

to which he'd retaliate that all you'd need is to marry him and you'd be set for life.

there is no winning an argument with leona when it comes to his naps. if he states that you're to be next to him as he sleeps, its final. no buts, no retaliations, cause apparently they're all invalid according to him even if you drag him to court.

rhetorically of course, that if its a comical court scene his only statements are; 'well you're wrong', 'who cares', and 'i dont care'. one way or another he's still gonna win you over and now you're fit snugly in his arms, lamenting.

and if crowley chastises you for not doing the errands (via leona's common interference.) the only thing you need to honestly do is to complain to leona about it and suddenly crowley has the kindness to forgive you for your 'laziness' then says something about enjoying your time together?

leona's work no doubt.

you suppose he does has its perks. even if most of it isn't exactly ideal.

if you're being smart then you should give him an ultimatum or something, or bribe him. but... that really has no guarantee to work either cause you're ending up defeated, or just defeated and flustered since he's somehow unconsciously flirty.

at the end of the day you can't really hate him cause the following day you find out he sent an already sleep deprived ruggie to do your work. 'so you can shut your fussing up and let me enjoy you.' he says, and you quote.

it goes something like;

"if i finish my work i'll stick by you all day."

a stready flow of confidence keeps your voice firm as you glower down at the blank-faced leona sat on the grass. he merely tilts his head, raising a brow at you and seemingly pondering from the way his eyes fly to the sky.

you'd think that maybe your plan actually worked but he merely grunts and flops backwards, holding the back of his head with his palms as he laid. and! he ignores you.

...this little greedy man... "why should i care whether or not you finish your work?" he huffs, like the evil, arrogant spawn he is but you can't really defend yourself cause said evil spawn bewitched you so much that you actually still like him.

"because you care about me?"

"...fine," he scowls, releasing a breath you'd mistake for irritation. "then, do you really think i need you to finish your work when i can just keep you right here?"

you sulk. "i'll do anything you want?"

he deadpans as if you said something stupid. "i don't need you to anything else but sit still and be pretty."

...

see what i mean about him eventually winning you over? yeah.

next morning there's a rebellion in savanaclaw about overworked residents and ruggie is the head of them.

"he said that he doesn't need you today." <- ruggie, steering you away.

"really?" <- you, confused

riddle (overthinks TOO HARD.)

“I'm just a little busy.”

“I understand,” riddle says.

“I'm just a little busy.” he understands.

“a little busy.” its just… a small thought…

“I'm just busy.” his mind is a hazard at this point.

for someone as supposedly maintained as riddle—you'd think his mind is as composed as it is organized. like the pens you'd perfectly align in correlation to order of colors, or the neat pile of clothing folded neatly, tucked in some corner in your closet that is farther in since it's used less.

that's just how he is, or at least seems to be. a bundle of organized thoughts, every thought connected to another. a mind too clean to be going on haywire (when he isn't in a particular mood, that is.)

you're just busy. he thinks. you said it yourself, with that agonizingly nice smile that must be sprinkled with some kind of spell from the way it just eradicated all the protests in his throat upon sight. he isn't one to question it, he wants to help but not if you don't ask.

he can only stare with resigned acceptance at your insomnia induced eyes.

but when the curtain of darkness befalls night raven college, even in the comfort of heartslabyul is he still thinking about that thought–and he can’t help but wonder; why exactly are you busy? its not that he’s suddenly hyper aware of your lack of presence since you’ve been attached to the hip the previous week and now you’re just.

…busy…

riddle likes to think of himself as a level-headed, private person. like the boy he raised himself to be and therefore proud of. but its way past 10AM. which is usually the time he sleeps, and let me tell you that he’s never once broke the cycle for years. yet here he is, a frown of frustration present on his face as he wills his mind to sleep.

somehow closing his eyes felt forced, he immediately snapped them open once his mind decides to conjure an image of you even in the darkness his lids offers.

“THIS IS ABSURD.”

and the yell promptly woke up the entire dorm from the ferocity of his scream. (and of course gave them the flashback of their year.)

that night was one of the worst he’s ever had because he woke up with red rimmed eyes and a pounding headache that ensured his bad mood the rest of the day.

everyone noted to steer clear.

and he unknowingly steered clear of yours since you were ‘busy.’

“why are you sulking?” a voice queried, spoken as though they were eating something as they asked. a reprimand rises in his throat, but it all just dies down once his sharp eyes settle on you, slipping into the seat in front of him then raising a brow and the traces of irritation practically evaporates from his eyes.

he feels the need to cough–so he does. “i’m– i’m not.” he clears his throat, avoiding your eyes but still sneaking in glances, something he notes is that you’re still looking everytime he does. (and boring an unimpressed face because he knows you don’t believe him at all.)

guilt rises in his mind, because he feels a slither of annoyance and its the presence of pettiness that bothers him. riddle knows you’re not at fault, just his mind at convincing that you just somehow decided in the span of a day that you might not like him anymore–so he can’t help the bite.

“why are you here?” a glance not intended to look mean.

“i thought you were busy.” he adds.

your brows raise, he spots your teeth holding your lips back from showing your grin and he feels warm. “what?” he hisses defensively, despite you not even having replied to him yet.

he leans backwards, straightening up in his seat when your chin leans forward, resting on your intertwined fingers. you flash him a smile.

“mr. rosehearts, are you perhaps… sulking because i’m busy?”

“no!”

silence.

“no.” he repeats, weaker.

“well,” you continue, beaming. “i heard from ace that you were awake the entire night, and that you kept him awake too. are you alright?”

he sputters. “it wasn’t because of you!”

you snort. “i didn’t even say anything about me.”

so you incline to following riddle around, poking fun at him and still trailing after the seemingly enraged red head because despite his angry protests, demanding you to go away because you’re annoying he keeps glancing back to see if you’ll follow,

so cute…….

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