#This is said in mostly a jesting tone.

[aquaticcryptid]

Man don't fuck with Twitter Splatoon players, they don't even like playing their own game.

[violetren]

When Inigo Montoya experiences immeasurable loss and mental anguish that propels him to a path of vengeance that he temporarily gets lost on, becoming a worse version of himself, a roving mercenary who even inadvertently ends up furthering the goals of his sworn enemy until he meets an opponent who makes him stop take stock and recognise how lost he has become and how he doesn't have to be in this alone, swiftly followed by him killing the target of his revenge and riding off into the sunset with his new friends everyone is lining up around the block to applaud,

However when the Dragon in Damsel follows the same story beats in a font just different enough to keep from getting sued...

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[princessbrunette]

can’t get the slasher au in the campcounselor!jj universe out of my mind, so have this.

the two of you being held up in your cabin together with the door bolted and jj is hammering nails needles and screws into a baseball bat. anything he can find really. he came barging through your door so fast that you thought you were next the second he stumbled on a body. his first thought was you, and how he needed to protect you because he didn’t think he’d be able to handle seeing the girl he was pretty sure he was in love with in a pool of blood.

“so why don’t they just call the police? instead of telling us to just stay in our cabins and lock the doors?” you rant, panicked and unable to be still for even a moment as you pace up and down the room.

“so uh, apparently this killer is like a genius of sorts n’cut the connection. s’why the wifi ain’t workin’ and no calls are goin’ through.” he glances up at you as he gives his hammer a few final taps against the nail in his bat. he waves a finger around in a circle in gesture to the lamps dotted around, still working. “these bad boys are solar powered though, thank god.”

“cant they send someone to go and get help? i know we’re in the middle of nowhere but there’s gotta be someone out there.” you shake your head, mostly at the poor organisational skills behind the camp owners and their lack of emergency plans.

“sent our one security dude to go n’drive ’til he finds someone. that was three hours ago so uh… safe to say it’s not lookin’ good.” jj grimaces and your face falls, hopeless as you flop into the seat.

“we are so screwed, jj.” you mewl, which forces him to tear his attention away from his makeshift weapon.

“hey, don’t talk like that okay you got me n’ this badass weapon n’i’m not gonna let anything happen to you okay so… positive thoughts. please.”

a minute of silence passes, before the quiet is filled by the sound of heavy rain coming down on the window. “hm. pathetic fallacy.” you hum and jj’s brow shoots up, glancing over to you once more.

“uh, what’d you call me?”

“wh— no. its a literary device. it means when the weather in a story reflects the overall mood of the events unfolding.” you explain with a sigh, drawing patterns on the table infront of you with your finger nail. jj ticks his head, continuing on with his project.

“smart and pretty.” he comments casually yet quietly, not bothering to look up now. despite everything, you let a little smile bite the corners of your lips.

“you think i’m pretty?”

“i said smart too. damn, talk about conceited.” he jests, glancing up at you with a smirk to ensure you knew he was teasing you. you can’t help but giggle, staring at him for a moment as you lock eyes.

“jj?”

he blinks, almost like he’s surprised to hear his own name being said.

“wh— yeah?”

“thanks for comin’ here to protect me. i was really scared without you.”

the blonde clears his throat, trying to get used to the whole being sincere thing. “oh, uh. yeah. no shweat.” he responds in his usual silly jj way, telling you he doesn’t know how to respond to people genuinely complimenting him. it’s kind of cute, behind the whole confident class-clown bravado.

“you promise if i die tonight you’ll reapply my lip gloss for me? i can’t have the forensic people finding me lookin’ all busted. that would be embarrassing.” you try to lighten the moment but he senses the worry in your tone. jj presses his lips together, suddenly standing out of his chair.

“look, come here.” he demands, and your brows raise. “yes. come here.” he beckons and you do so, dragging your feet to stand infront of him. his hands seem to hesitate for a moment before they grasp your shoulders, raising his eyebrows at you.

“you— ms perfect, are not gonna die tonight. y’hear me? this is jus’ gonna be one of your many cool ass stories that you get to tell in the future when we get the hell outta here. just like — as long as you promise to mention the sexy strong blonde dude that protected you with his life when you’re… y’know, recountin’ those tales…n’shit.” despite delivering the lighthearted punchline, jj’s voice softens towards the end of its delivery, staring down and getting lost in your wide worried eyes.

you smile, a hand coming up to rest on his chest. you don’t comment on the way his heart pounds against your palm. “how could i forget that detail?” you stare again at eachother for a moment, and you swear he’s about to kiss you — when thunder crashes loudly outside, startling the two of you as jj spins around, grabbing the bat and swinging it into a protective stance, guarding you. the moment settles over the two of you and you giggle, covering your mouth.

“you gonna fight the thunder, jj?”

“i was just practicin’ alright be grateful my reflexes are so damn fast. m’like a ninja.” he scoffs out a little laugh, turning back towards you.

“sheesh, i wouldn’t mess with you.” you grin and he tosses the bat aside, deciding enough was enough.

“yeah wouldn’t dream of it.” he mutters distractedly, the two of you pumped with adrenaline as he leans in, eyes on your mouth before your lips connect, the blonde pulling your body to his.

maybe you would be okay.

[fishsticksloser]

Can I request

Hobie x fem reader

The reader tries to keep Hobie a secret from her toxic family but Hobie ended up meeting them.

Thank you ❤️

Family Business

Hobie x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, toxic family, angst, Hobit is a flirty bastard..., a bit of insecurity, Hobie tries to help you rebel cause that's what he does..., Mr. Hobart Brown is now a life coach...

A/N: I'm with you on this one, I wouldn't want him to meet some of my family. This became a lot longer than anticipated...

Sometimes it was a little exhausting keeping Hobie from your family. You tried not to be around your family at all, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

"Hey, Hobie?" You walk into the kitchen where Hobie was making lunch. You wring your hands anxiously. "My family is coming over so... Could you not be in the apartment tomorrow? I'm sorry its such late notice..."

"Oh?" He questions, turning to face you. "What's the occasion?" A wide grin pulling at his lip, eyes sparkling. He's never met your family, he finds himself intrigued by them though. Are they really that bad? "Sure. I'll find something to do." Hobie shrugs, it must be important if you're asking him to leave.

"They just decided they wanted to pop in. I just found out and they'll be here tomorrow afternoon." You sigh, a bit relieved that he was so understanding. "I'm really sorry."

"It's no big deal." Hobie reassures you with a smile. "Do they give you trouble or something?" He raises an eyebrow, concerned.

"Ah, well, yes..." You shrug lightly. "Mostly if they saw you, it'd be a whole thing." You make 'blow up' gestures.

"Oh, like a 'No Boys, Ever!' kina thing?" He asks, a bit of sarcasm in his tone. He chuckles a little, glancing down at you.

"No. No." You shake your head and frown slightly. "More of a 'why are you with this gorgeous man, you must be paying him' kinda thing and then it'll blow up, and..."

"Are you saying I'm too good looking for you?" Hobie queries, nudging your shoulder.

"You were a runway model, so yeah."

"Hey, I had to pay my rent somehow. They'll be up in your business about it, huh? I can handle that. No need for me to leave unless it'll make things harder for you."

"Believe me, once they see you and start asking questions, you'll wish you hadn't stayed."

"You can't be serious... They're not that shallow and superficial, are they?"

"Dead serious."

"Do you usually let them pressure you into doing things their way? Because if so, I think this is the perfect time for you to draw a hard line and not bend to their will. It could be good for you."

"I don't follow their rules anymore since I don't live with them, but if they knew that..."

"Would they disown you?"

"No. They'd keep me from seeing the family I actually do want to be around. If they knew about you, well... Are you prepared for them to accuse you of being in it for money? For only being here because I'm paying you?"

The words hit Hobie like a slap to the face, his eyes go wide as he absorbs what you've said. That's their first reaction? Why? What kind of family would ever consider saying something like that?

"So what... They think you're alone...? Single and celibate?"

"Uh... Yeah, yep." You confirm.

He's at a loss for words. This is... absurd. There are no words to describe how Hobie feels right now. How he feels about your parents, the situation you're in.

"You're family is f-" He starts, but quickly corrects himself. "Insane."

"Say it with your chest." Encouraging him to say whatever he wants.

He doesn't want to upset you, but this... this doesn't sit right with him. "Your parents are fucking crazy." He utters, glaring at the ceiling. His anger only seems to grow. "How could someone like you come from that? Who do they think they are controlling you? Dictating who you date, who you sleep with, if you can live your like freely? Have you ever thought about cutting them out of your life?"

"Pure luck?" You jest, trying to cheer him up with a joke to his first question. "I've thought about cutting them off, but that'll cut ties with family I do want to see."

Hobie snorts at your little joke, but he loses the small smile as you continued. "Still. You shouldn't have to do that. I mean, do you let them dictate the rest of your life? The way you look, they way you act, who you love?"

"Considering you're here... Absolutely not, but under no circumstances am I putting you in their line of fire." You answer quickly, shaking your head slightly.

"I can handle it." He replies with a shrug. He says that, but you know the thought of being in front of your family makes him uncomfortable. He was ready to do it for you though. That alone speaks volumes about how far he'd go to help you. "Your family can't keep getting away with controlling your life like this... What are you going to do? Just let them push you around for the rest of your life? Let them manipulate you into doing whatever they want?"

"What will pushing back accomplish? It'll cut me off from family."

"How is doing nothing better? You're just letting them walk all over you and control you like a puppet! Don't you want your life back?"

"It's not that simple."

"Life is never easy. Some people are luck, but others - like us- are born into difficult circumstances. But that doesn't mean we have to let the hardships stop us from living. Maybe it's not simple. Maybe it means making difficult decisions, taking a stand, or fighting for what we want. But we can do that - we have to."

🎸⋆⁺₊⋆♱🕷��⋆⁺₊⋆🎸

It'd been a month or so since that night, but you'd blocked your parents on everything. Now you felt more comfortable sharing your personal life, and Hobie. You had fought like hell to get to this point, but you did it. It was one hell of a victory to win and you celebrated.

At first you took your freedom for granted, maybe you still do. No matter what, you knew there was no going back. You were free and planned to stay that way.

You wandered together beneath the hot London sun, through the concessions during a Spider-Man festival, you found it a bit humorous since the man behind the mask was holding your hand. Hobie's mood is contagious, you find yourself smiling as well. How could you not? Everything is so energetic, everyone is so excited and in good spirits, ready to have a good time.

"Do you ever feel weird about all this?" You ask as you weave through the throngs of people. "People throwing festivals and stuff in your honor but having no clue it's you?"

"Honestly?" He answers with a soft laugh. "Sometimes, yeah. I never really get used to it. People are obsessed with Spider-Man, so when they start acting like complete geeks over him, it makes me feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone or something. I'd never complain about it though." He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest as you stand in line. "Especially if it means seeing you smile like this..."

"Cheesy bastard..." You huff playfully, wrapping your hands around his forearms.

"Damn right I am." He cackles, pulling you closer. "Admit it! You love my lame puns and bad one-liners. You can't get enough of them!" He dips his head down and kisses you, lingering for a moment. He's not done flattering you though. "See? You're addicted to me..."

You laugh, opening your mouth to start denying everything. "Y/N?" You hear a familiar voice call and you freeze. Hobie pulls his head back, immediately picking up on your discomfort. He pulls you impossibly closer, searching for the source of your anxiety. He finally spots it. A stranger, well to him at least.

"Do you know her?" He whispers, still holding you close.

"That's my mom..." You mumble. You turn away from her, hoping she didn't see you.

"What do you think she wants?" He asks in a rushed whisper. "How do we deal with this?"

"I wish you could turn invisible..." You mutter, trying to think of something.

Before Hobie even has a chance to think of a response, your mom is right in front of you. "Y/N!" She cries, pulling you out of Hobie's grasp and into a big hug. "You're so skinny! You're not eating enough, that explains why we haven't heard from you in weeks!" Her eyes flicker over to Hobie as she lets go. "Who the hell are you?"

"This is Hobie... My... um..." You try, but Hobie doesn't like labels. There's no word to really describe your relationship.

Hobie immediately picks up on your issue, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. "We're together. An item..." He answers, a bit hesitant but firm.

"An item? You can't even tell me what your relationship actually is?" Your mom asks, smiling almost smugly. "So... She's paying you?"

"Paying me?" Hobie grits, looking at you before shooting your mother a glare. He's livid, grabbing your waist and pulling you back against him. He can't believe she'd say something so underhanded and insidious.

"Oh please." Your mother rolls her eyes. "Like you'd ever go for someone like my daughter without some sort of payment."

Hobie's anger nearly boils over; he's ready to get in your mother's face and start screaming. Instead, he takes a deep breath and speaks calmly, his voice dripping with sarcasm and spite. "What do you want from us, lady? An apology? An explanation? Because I'm not apologizing for loving your daughter and I don't owe you a damn thing."

"Loving my daughter?" Your mom laughs snidely. "Look at her. You could have anyone and you 'picked' her?"

Hobie's anger gives way to confusion as your mother's cruel words register. How could someone be so heartless? Who says something like that about their own child? As though you were some sort of object - an object that isn't worth any sort of love. "You have no idea what you're talking about so why don't you keep your mouth shut?"

"Excuse me?" Your mom glares daggers at Hobie.

"Did I stutter? Is your hearing okay?" Hobie snaps, his tone venomous. His jaw clenched with anger, he doesn't care what your mother thinks of him. He wants nothing more than to tear her apart, but he holds himself back. Refusing to stoop to her level.

Your mother huffs angrily and stomps away, you finally relax against Hobie's chest. "You didn't have to do that..."

"Yes, I did." He replies, frowning. He can still feel the residual anger and hatred radiating from him. "I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant protecting you. No one - and I mean no one - is going to talk to you that way while I'm alive. No one."

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his waist in a tight hug, hoping to relieve some of his anger. Hobie immediately accepts, pulling you closer. For a moment all he can do is hold you, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair. His grip tightens around you, his anger fading away. He rests his head against your head, eyes closing as he keep ahold of you.

"Did you mean what you said?" You mumble into his chest, your voice slightly muffled.

He goes still, pondering your question. "Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?" His voice is calm and soft. "It's the truth. I won't let anyone treat you that way." Hobie kisses the top of your head, his voice filled with determination.

"Not that." You laugh, shaking your head. "You said you 'wouldn't apologize for loving me...' Did you mean it?"

"Oh. That." He pauses for a moment. "Um... Yeah. I meant it."

"That's good." You nod thoughtfully. Hobie seems a bit anxious, waiting for you to reciprocate. "I love you too."

After a few seconds, a smile breaks out on his face. He leans down and presses his lips to yours - a gentle show of affection.

[kyumisyumi]

Trying to write more eldritch Nikto

But my brain keeps thinking about him letting us put makeup on him 😮‍💨 running champagne lipstick over what's left of those soft, pale lips. The near translucent skin readily adapting the bloody red tint. He sat beneath you as you straddled him with one firm hand on his chin to keep him steady.

You didn't think it would end up like this. He'd helped you with your make-up since you'd gotten your nails done and was still getting use to their length.

"Thank you." You beamed up at him as he tilted your head to survey his work. In jest you said; "Do you want me to do yours next?"

There was quiet but then a soft 'yes' followed, the tone a strange mix of confusion and hesitance. You'd looked into his eyes for a long while, vulnerable and wary but he was serious. And so, here you were, putting lipstick on a man you adored. Your fingers trailing his bottom lip to remove the excess.

You weren't an expert with makeup, only ever doing minimal looks. But you could manage some eyeliner and eyeshadow, maybe blush. It was probably for the best since you didn't know if the products would irritate his skin.

He stayed still for the most part, say for the occasional flexing of his fingers on your hips. Those fingers digging into you for security when you asked him to close his eyes. It wasn't painful but it bordered on it. As if he was afraid that when he opened them, you would be gone. That you'd realise his flaws were too much, that there was someone out there with less baggage who could take care of you just as well if not better. Someday he would understand that a knot is tied at both ends; that you were as smitten with him as he was with you but for now you'd let his trembling fingers ground themself into your flesh.

And done.

With the lipstick mostly dry you planted a gentle kiss against it. You wouldn't make assumptions, if there was something you needed to know he would tell you when he's ready. For now, you'd just love him.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔟𝔶𝔢

Josh Futturman x gender neutral reader

Note: This was requested from a really nice person on wattpad: "I would definitely like to see some smut and fluff, either one is perfect. Since his character is like a janitor by day and a gamer by night, I think I would like to see this whole thing be, where Josh is getting ready for work but the reader is bothered by it because he never says goodbye and just lets the reader sleep in. It'll turn into a small argument but then turn into smut. Like slight fluff but mostly smut." Added in a personal idea at the start to create the ground for the request.

Warnings: You and Josh playing video games together! Long discussions about video games. Josh being a scaredy cat. Very minor gore moment. Argument between a couple. Smut. Make-up sex. Blowjob (r giving). Submissive Josh. Riding.

Words count: around 4000

Can also be found in wattpad and ao3

You and Josh have been inseparable for years, ever since you first crossed paths in the virtual realm of "Biotic Wars." Your relationship, which began with playful banter and late-night gaming sessions, has grown into something deeply meaningful. Josh's quirky humor and your mutual love for video games have always been the glue holding you two together.

Today was supposed to be a special gaming day. Both of you had been practicing tirelessly to finally conquer Biotic Wars, a challenge that had eluded you for months. Josh, with his expertise and quick reflexes, often led the charg, while you provided backup with your strategic mind and occasional bursts of brilliance. The game was notorious for its unforgiving difficulty, requiring not just skill but also perfect coordination between players.

As the game loaded, you felt a familiar thrill course through your veins. The virtual world came alive with its intense graphics and pulsating soundtrack. Josh, sitting in his well-worn gaming chair, wore a reassuring grin. "Ready to finally take down these biotic beasts?" he asked you through the headphones, his voice brimming with excitement.

"Absolutely. Let's show them what we're made of" you replied, tightening your grip on the controller.

The battle began with an explosion of colors and sounds as you maneuvered your characters through the treacherous terrain. Josh, as always, took the lead, deftly dispatching enemies with pinpoint accuracy. You followed closely, providing cover and eliminating threats as they appeared. For a while, everything was going smoothly, and you could feel victory within reach.

Then came the final boss.

You were both in sync, executing strategies and dodging attacks with near-perfect precision. But just as victory seemed assured, a split-second lapse in concentration caused your character to fall into a trap.

"No!" you exclaimed, watching helplessly as your health bar plummeted. Josh fought valiantly to cover for your mistake, but the boss proved too powerful, and soon both your screens flashed the dreaded "Game Over" message.

You sighed heavily, disappointment washing over you. "i'm sorry, Josh," you said, genuinely frustrated. "I messed up. I should have seen that coming."

Josh, ever the optimist, chuckled softly. "Hey, it's all part of the game. It's hard to follow a master, I get it." he added, his voice dripping with playful cockiness.

You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing tone. Despite his jesting, there was no malice behind his words, just an attempt to lighten the mood. "Oh, you think you're so great, huh?" you challenged, grinning at him.

"Well, I did just carry us through most of that level," he replied.

"All right, Mr. Video Game Prodigy," you retorted, your competitive spirit ignited. "How about I challenge you to a game I'm actually good at?"

His interest piqued, Josh agreed immediately, his confidence unshaken. "Bring it on," he said, leaning back on his chair with a smug look. "I'm ready for whatever you've got."

An hour later, he arrived at your place, his energy and excitement palpable. The moment you opened the door, he enveloped you in a warm hug, peppering your face with kisses until you were both laughing uncontrollably.

"Okay, what's this mystery game of yours?" he asked as you led him to your gaming setup.

You handed him the CD case, watching as his confidence wavered slightly upon reading the title.

Friday the 13th: The Game.

The look on his face was priceless.

"You've got to be kidding," he muttered, examining the cover with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"You can back out if you're scared," you teased, knowing full well that Josh would never back down from a challenge.

His expression shifted to a mask of determination, resignation in his eyes. "Scared? Me? Never. Let's do this."

Settling into your chairs, you loaded the game. Friday the 13th was a stark departure from Biotic Wars.

The horror game was designed to be tense and thrilling, with players taking on the roles of camp counselors trying to survive the night while being hunted by the infamous Jason Voorhees.

As the game loaded, the iconic and haunting music filled the room, setting the stage for the tense and terrifying experience that lay ahead. Josh's character, one of the playable camp counselor, appeared on screen, standing alone in the dimly lit forest of Camp Crystal Lake.

The objective was simple yet daunting: survive the night while being hunted by Jason Voorhees, the relentless killer.

Josh's initial confidence waned slightly as he adjusted to the slower pace and eerie setting of the game. The dim light flickered on the screen, casting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.

The game's mechanics, designed to induce fear and suspense, were a stark contrast to the fast-paced action he was used to.

Every sound, every rustle of leaves, seemed to put him on edge.

"You got this," you encouraged, trying to stifle your laughter as you watched him nervously guide his character through the woods.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers tense on the controller.

Josh carefully navigated his character through the cabins and open areas, occasionally stopping to collect useful items like health sprays, maps, and weapons.

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, it was clear he was fully immersed in the experience, jumping at every unexpected noise and shadow.

"Okay, this isn't too bad," he said, trying to maintain his bravado as he directed his character to a nearby cabin, securing the doors and windows.

"Just wait until you hear the music," you teased, knowing full well what was about to happen.

Then it happened.

The screen flickered, and the ominous glitching effect announced Jason's proximity, triggered by his shift ability.

The sudden distortion, a signature move that allowed Jason to cover ground quickly and catch players off-guard. Josh flinched, his entire body tensing up as Jason seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Whoa!" he yelped, his voice a mixture of surprise and nervous laughter as he instinctively mashed buttons to make his character sprint away from the unseen threat.

As the character's fear level spiked, eerie music blasted through the room, and the screen darkened, mirroring the rising dread of its player.

You burst out laughing, unable to contain your amusement at his reaction. "Run, Josh, run!" you hit rapidly on his arm, tears of laughter in your eyes.

"Why didn't you warn me about that?" he protested, his voice rising an octave as he attempted to escape Jason's clutches.

"Because this is way more fun," you replied between giggles, thoroughly enjoying his startled expressions and frantic button-mashing.

"He's behind you, Josh!" you shouted, adding to the tension with a mischievous grin.

"I know, I know!" he replied, his voice laced with mock panic as he desperately tried to maneuver his character to safety.

Despite his attempts to evade Jason, the chilling music intensified, signaling the killer's approach.

"No! No!" Josh exclaimed, trying to break free the second he was grabbed by the killer, but it was too late.

The screen erupted in a blaze of light as his character's head was violently severed, sending it spiraling through the air. His jaw dropped in shock, mirroring the dramatic fall of the counselor's head.

You were laughing so hard that tears streamed down your cheeks, your sides aching from the hilarity of the situation. Josh joined in, his initial fear giving way to the absurdity of it all.

"Okay, that was terrifying," he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I wasn't expecting it to be that intense."

"Welcome to the world of horror games," you teased, still catching your breath from the laughter. "Do you want to go again, or should I show you how it's done?"

Josh handed you the controller with a dramatic flourish. "Please, show me the ropes. I clearly need some pointers."

Taking the controller, you settled into the familiar routine of the game, your confidence evident in your posture and movements. As your character spawned in the same erie campgrounds, you immediately began to strategize, quickly gathering supplies and coordinating your escape plan.

Josh, sitting beside you, was eager to learn the ropes, hoping to match your skill level and make the experience even more fun and collaborative.

His curiosity about the game was endearing, but you knew it would be a challenge to focus on playing while fielding his barrage of questions.

As the game began, you immediately focused on your objectives, guiding your character through the dark, foreboding campgrounds.

Your mind instinctively strategizes the best way to survive the night.

Next to you, Josh leaned in, eyes glued to the screen, a mixture of awe and determination on his face.

"So, what's the first thing you should do when the game starts?" he asked, his voice eager and slightly urgent.

"You want to search cabins for supplies, like maps and weapons," you replied, deftly moving your character toward a nearby cabin.

He nodded, absorbing the information before firing off another question. "What's the best weapon to use against Jason?"

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "The shotgun is the best one, but it only has a bullet loaded. Anything you can find to slow him down will help, like a baseball bat or a wrench."

You hear the ominous music indicating Jason is nearby. Your heart races as you move to the opposite direction, seeing from afar how he hasn't noticed your presence yet.

Josh, oblivious to the tension, continues his questioning.

"What's the best way to escape?"

"There are a few ways: fix the car, call the police, or survive until time runs out," you say, finding a map and showing it to Josh. "There is also the boat but it's way too risky since Jason moves very fast in the water."

Josh nods, scribbling notes mentally.

You entered a cabin and began searching for items, listening intently for any sign of Jason.

Josh's curiosity seemed endless "How do you know which counselor to choose? Which one is better?"

"Counselor stats matter" you replied, still concentrating on your character's actions.

"Each counselor has different stats like speed, stamina, repair skills and stealth. It affects how well they perform certain tasks," you explain, dodging a trap set by Jason to start repairing the phone box.

"What's stamina do?" Josh asks, genuinely curious.

"It's that yellow circle around the mini-map. Stamina affects how long you can run or perform some actions before needing to rest," you reply, keeping an eye on your stamina bar as you sprint inside the cabin to call the police.

"How do you regain stamina?"

"By standing still. It's crucial to manage it well, especially when Jason is chasing you," you say, watching intently as your character called the police.

"All the stats can work for you, but right now if you have someone with high speed you'll definitely will have a much better chance of survival" you explained to him, noticing a red dot on the mini-map.

He was near.

"Speed, huh?" Josh pondered, watching every movement of your finger in the controller. "What exactly does speed do?"

You paused, momentarily distracted by the abourdity of the question. Turning to him, you couldn't help but laugh. "Are you serious?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement

Josh realized his mistake and burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. "Okay okay, dumb question" he admitted, shaking his head at himself.

The shared laughter was a welcome break from the tension of the game. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you enjoyed spending time with Josh. His ability to find humor in even the most stressful situations and his genuine interest in learning something new, even if it meant asking silly questions.

"You know," you began, the excitement in your voice unmistakable, "one of the things I love most about this game is how well the maps are designed. They're so detailed and true to the movies. It's like you're actually there, experiencing the terror firsthand."

Josh nodded, his interest piqued by your enthusiasm. "Yeah? I didn't realize they were so accurate. That's really cool."

"It is!" you continued, a sparkle in your eyes. "Each map is a nod to the different movies. The developers included all these little details that only true fans would recognize. It makes the game so immersive, like you're living out your own horror movie experience."

He watched you intently, captivated by your passion. You rarely had the chance to dive into these nerdy discussions with others, but with Josh, it felt natural and safe.

"And the counselors," you said, leaning forward in your seat, "they're all inspired by characters from the films. Each one has their own unique stats and strengths, which makes it interesting to figure out who matches your playstyle and I just love how it all comes together."

Josh listened, a soft smile playing on his lips. You could feel his attention solely focused on you, and it made you feel appreciated, like every word you said mattered.

"And the chase," you added, your voice tinged with excitement. "The burst of adrenaline when Jason is right behind you, the music intensifying, your heart pounding—it's such a rush. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I love that feeling of being on the edge, trying to outsmart him and survive."

Josh chuckled, seeing how animated you had become. "I can tell you really love this game. It's amazing to see you light up like this."

You paused, feeling a bit self-conscious now that you had rambled on for so long, but his expression reassured you. There was no judgment, only admiration and affection in his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on and on," you said, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," he replied softly, reaching out to take your hand. "I love hearing you talk about things you're passionate about. You know, the way you dive so deeply into something you care about, it's one of the things I adore most about you"

His words warmed your heart, and you squeezed his hand in return, grateful to have someone who appreciated you for who you were. Josh had always supported your interests, and his genuine curiosity about your hobbies made you feel seen and understood.

"Thanks, Josh," you said, meeting his gaze with a smile. "I'm glad I can share this with you."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm just happy to be here with you, learning about all the things you love. It gives me more reason to play the game and try to keep up with you. You make it look so easy," Josh commented, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

"It just takes practice," you replied.

At one point, Jason burst through a door just as you slipped out a window, narrowly escaping his grasp. You then led him on a merry chase through the forest, conserving your stamina to buy time and regroup with other players.

"Wow, you're way too good at this," Josh said, his eyes fixed on the screen as he watched you lead your character to safety.

"It's all about keeping calm and thinking ahead," you explained, enjoying the chance to showcase your skills in a game you loved.

As the game progressed, you managed to evade Jason long enough for the police to arrive, signaling the end of the round.

With one final sprint, you guided your character to the safety of the police line, successfully surviving the night.

Josh was beaming, clearly impressed by your performance. "THAT WAS AMAZING."

Raising your hands in the air in victory while your boyfriend hugs you tightly. Both of you were shouting with joy from the success. "I know, I know. It's nice to finally have the upper hand for once."

The rest of the evening was filled with more rounds, tension and horror while Josh's continued flinching and surprised yelps kept the mood light and entertaining. Each round, he improved, guided by your expertise and encouragement.

By the end of the night, as you both settled back into the couch, Josh turned to you, his expression one of genuine affection. "Thanks for introducing me to this. It was nice taking a break from Biotic War, even if I was terrified half the time."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. And hey, you're getting better. We could play this sometime together if you want"

Josh laughed, pulling you close for a hug. "Only if you promise not to laugh at my screams."

"Deal," you agreed, snuggling into his embrace, grateful for the shared experience and the deepened bond it had brought.

You turned your face towards Josh, a victorious smile on your face. "As a reward for winning, I have a couple of requests," you announced playfully.

Josh raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might those be?" he asked with a smirk.

"First, a kiss," you said, leaning closer.

He obliged happily, pulling you in for a gentle, lingering kiss that melted away the exhaustion of the night. "And second?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Carry me to bed?" you requested, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

Josh groaned playfully, rolling his eyes. "Really? You beat me in one game and now I'm your personal chauffeur?" he teased. "Alright, fine, but don't think this is going to be a regular thing."

With exaggerated reluctance, he scooped you up into his arms, grumbling under his breath about your apparent weight. He took comically slow, deliberate steps, exaggerating every movement as if he were carrying a ton of bricks. "Why are you so heavy? Did you sneak rocks into your pockets or something?" he joked, pretending to struggle as he navigated the hallway.

Every few steps, he'd stop dramatically to catch his breath, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead. "I might need to call in reinforcements," he quipped, pausing to pretend to call for backup. You couldn't stop laughing, the combination of his theatrics and your helpless position making the journey to the bedroom an epic adventure in itself.

"Almost there," he declared, as if conquering a mountain, taking unnecessarily wide turns and pretending to stumble. You kept giggling, holding on tight as he continued his overly elaborate trek.

Finally, he reached the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed with a mock sigh of relief. "There you go, your majesty," he quipped, wiping his brow in mock exhaustion. "Next time, I'm getting a forklift."

You pulled him closer, your hands looping around his neck as you whispered, "Now, don't think you're getting away. Stay with me."

Josh didn't hesitate, climbing into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm. Together, you drifted off, surrounded by the comfort of each other's presence.

The sunlight streamed softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as you slowly stirred awake. You turned, expecting to find Josh next to you, but instead, the bed was empty and slightly cool where he had been lying. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sat up, only to find Josh fully dressed for work.

Josh noticed you were awake and turned with a smile, walking over to the bed. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said warmly, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

You leaned into the kiss, but something gnawed at you, a small feeling of frustration. This had become a familiar scene: Josh up and ready to leave without waking you, never saying goodbye properly. It seemed minor, but it had been building up over time, and today it felt like more than you could brush aside.

"Morning," you replied, trying to keep your voice light but unable to completely mask the tinge of irritation. Josh pulled back, noticing your tone.

"Everything okay?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice, his brow furrowed as he looked at you.

You hesitated, not wanting to start an argument but feeling the need to voice your thoughts. "Josh, you always leave without saying goodbye. I know you want me to sleep, but it feels like...I don't know, like you're sneaking out," you admitted, looking down at the sheets, feeling a bit shy about bringing it up. Your heart fluttered with nervousness, unsure of how he would respond.

Josh's expression softened as he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing you. He reached out, his hand gentle as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I didn't realize it bothered you that much. I just thought it was better to let you sleep," he explained, his voice sincere and filled with understanding. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding a goodbye."

His words were like a balm, soothing the frustration that had been building inside you. "I know you didn't mean it that way," you said, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of earnestness, and you could see that he genuinely wanted to make things right. "But I want to feel like I'm part of your morning, too, even if it's just a quick kiss before you go."

He nodded, his eyes earnest and apologetic. "I get it. From now on, I'll make sure to wake you. I didn't know you felt left out."

A small smile tugged at your lips, the tension in the room dissipating "Thank you. I just want to be part of your routine, that's all."

Josh grinned, leaning in for another kiss, this one lingering and soft. "Consider it done," he promised, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, the warmth of his lips on yours was reassuring.

As Josh moved to stand, ready to leave for work, an idea popped into your head. Without fully thinking it through, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the bed.

"Hey!" Josh laughed, caught off guard as he tumbled back onto the mattress beside you.

"What's this?"

Feeling a mix of shyness and boldness, you looked at him, your cheeks warming. "I was thinking...maybe a little extra time together before you go wouldn't hurt," you suggested, your voice soft but inviting.

Josh raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but delighted. "Oh, really? I thought you'd want to go back to sleep," he teased, his voice playful as he shifted closer, his hand finding yours.

"I think I'm already awake enough," you replied, feeling more confident as you met his gaze, the familiar warmth and love reflecting back at you.

He chuckled, pulling you into his arms as you settled against him. "How can I say no to that?"

You found yourself on top of him, your bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time guided by instinct and desire. His touch was gentle, occasionally squeezing your hips and buttocks with a playful possessiveness that made you laugh softly against his lips.

The sound of your laughter mingled with the quiet gasps and sighs, creating a melody of love that filled the room.

Josh's voice broke the comfortable silence. "I really didn't mean to upset you, you know," he said softly, his eyes sincere.

"I know," you replied, your voice equally soft. "I just miss being part of your morning routine. Even a small goodbye would mean a lot to me."

light filtering through the curtains wrapped around you both like a warm embrace, casting a gentle glow that seemed to mirror the feelings swelling in your heart.

As you leaned in, the first touch of his lips against yours was electric, igniting a spark that raced through your veins.

His kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration, as if rediscovering the familiar contours and taste that he cherished so much.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting and teasing, drawing out a response that was both immediate and fervent. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed you, a blend of passion and tenderness that made you feel cherished and desired. It was as if he were savoring the very essence of you, each kiss a promise and a testament to the love you shared.

Your lips met again. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration, but soon deepened, a dance of tongues that communicated what words could not.

Josh's hands traveled over your body, fingers grazing your skin with a featherlight touch that sent shivers up your spine. Occasionally, his hands would rest on the curve of your hips, squeezing gently as if to reassure himself that you were real, that this moment was happening.

His touch was both tender and assured, as though he were an artist and you were his masterpiece. He explored with an intimacy that spoke of familiarity and affection, mapping every curve and line with the skill of someone who knew and adored every inch of you.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as you pulled him closer, deepening the connection.

You let out a soft moan, a sound of pure delight that only encouraged him further.

Your hands moved over his chest, tracing his happy trail and the lines of his muscles.

Lips departed from yours, embarking on a tantalizing journey along your jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying kisses in their wake. The heat of his breath against your skin sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, drawing you closer to him, as if pulled by some invisible force.

"I want..." Josh started, breathing unevenly, "I really want your tongue..."

You smiled softly with a nod, happy with Josh's request.

"Shift up, then," you suggested, sitting up to allow Josh to move, and he obliged, moving up on the bed to give you more space to home yourself between his thighs. Josh moaned softly as he watched you crawl up between his legs until your face was in line with his cock.

You leaned down to press a kiss against the throbbing, leaking tip,

Josh bit his lip and held his breath as your tongue peeked out between your lips to greet the sensitive head, lapping up the precum that was already collecting at the tip following your incessant teasing.

"You're teasing me," Josh stammered, screwing his eyes shut as you gazed up at him, tongue still running up and along the firm ridges of his length.

He pouted at your cruelty before you winked and wrapped your lips around the head, sinking your hot wet mouth down until your nose was flush with the base of Josh's cock.

He was beyond devastated. He grunted as you swallowed around his length, stuffing your face with his size. The scorching vision that had only ever existed in his imagination was now a breathtaking reality.

You slid your lips off after a pause, gasping for air as a string of saliva kept your lips connected to Josh's meat.

"I like this," you giggled, ducking down to leave open-mouthed kisses along Josh's length from the base, up the side of it, then to the head again, sucking the tip into his mouth once more. You loved the way his thighs shake after doing such things.

Josh shut his eyes again, avoiding your eye contact as you bobbed his head up and down, afraid to come way too soon and disappoint you.

Relentless as ever, your assault left him no respite. His fists clenched the blankets with a vice-like grip, knuckles white with tension.

"Pull off," he shouted, hips twitching when you moved your mouth away from him and looked at his face perplexed.

He sat up on the bed to restore your old position on top of him.

Josh's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your sides before settling on your hips.

His fingers lingered there, a gentle pressure that pulled you closer until your bodies were perfectly aligned.

Your hips moved together, a slow, deliberate motion that mirrored the rising and falling of your breaths. You felt the heat of his skin against yours, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the line of your spine before settling on your shoulders, drawing you down to him.

His lips found your neck, planting a series of soft kisses that made you shiver with delight. You felt his breath against your skin as your bodies moved together

His hands moved down to your thighs, squeezing gently as you rocked together. As the tempo of your movements increased, so did the intensity of the sensations, each one building upon the last until you were both lost in the shared rhythm of your bodies.

His lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a reflection of the bond you shared.

You lost track of time, caught up in the whirlwind of sensation and emotion that surrounded you.

Pressing your forehead to his, you feel the sticky sweat that binds you. Josh's heaving breath mixing with yours as you both come down from the intensity of your releases.

He followed almost immediately when your hole clenched around him, making you even tighter. He whined loudly and after a few more hard thrusts, he came.

Josh's brown eyes shine bright with pleasure- a contented sigh spilling from you both before you slowly disengage.

It's filled with lasting touches, long looks and warm smiles.

"Do you want to play a bit of your game before I go?"

The sound of your intertwined laughter, punctuated by soft gasps and sighs, filled the room.

"Won't you be late for work?" you asked while still panting, sweat starting to drip down your forehead, but you remained tight against his side.

"They never notice my presence anyway," he replied, panting and still trying to regulate his breathing.

You couldn't help but smile at his laid-back attitude, already in the process of reaching for the controller.

Note: Sorry if the start was boring and I probably went off-topic from the request. I just saw the chance to talk about something I enjoy as a personal video gamer and couldn't resist. :)

If you liked this story, please leave a comment. I love reading them! <3

[estellxli]

Banana (Kazuha x Reader)

It was just an afternoon, like any other, with the winds blowing a soothing tune from the outside. The room warmed from the invited sun. A piece of ham plops into the sizzling pan accompanied by another. With a spatula in one hand, Kazuha’s thoughts drift elsewhere.

His brows furrows and the grip on the spatula tightens. The heat coming from the pan did not compare to the rage building inside him. He mindlessly flips the two hams over and takes a deep breath. Maintaining a cool mind. Nonetheless, if any of his suspicions were true he would—

The kettle's loud angry scream drowns out the sizzling, piercing the air and dragging him back to the present.

With calm efficiency, Kazuha extinguished the flames beneath both the pan and kettle. His hands moved swiftly, setting the ham onto a porcelain plate, and with practiced ease, he arranged sweets, slices of cheese, and a newly made sandwich upon a wooden tray.

The kettle, now silenced and subdued, was lifted with care as he prepared a matcha latte— a drink he'd acquired upon returning to Inazuma, after his seafaring ventures with Beidou. The merchant had assured him of its efficacy in alleviating menstrual pains, mentioning some properties that relaxed the body’s inner muscles—though the specifics of her words now eluded him.

Kazuha makes way to your bedroom with the wooden tray in his hands. With the door left ajar, he deftly pushed it wider using his hip, making no disturbance as he entered.

There you lay, just as he had left you, curled tightly within the folds of the blanket, resembling a pita pocket in your snug repose.

“Y/N.”

You turn to him, with your head barely popping out of the thick fabric. The corner of your lips immediately turn into a big smile as you squeal. Cries from your insides all momentarily gone as you sit up and excitedly pat the empty side of the bed. 

All because of Kazuha. 

… 

Mostly because of the food. 

Your boyfriend chuckles at your childish actions. You eyed at the wooden tray as you felt the bed embrace his weight. The chocolates are your first pick, their allure too great to resist.

Kazuha’s gaze lingered upon the small bruises marring your skin, visible despite your radiant expression as you took a bite of the chocolate. Lips still curled upwards while chewing.

“Is it to your liking?”

“Very.”

His eyes drop on the tray, noticing the ripples of the matcha. “Here, try this one too, I heard it helps with the cramps?”. 

You grab the chawan cup from his hands, nodding at his warning that it's still hot. The matcha warms your insides, offering a comfort that the hot compress upon your stomach had yet failed to provide.

Kazuha swallowed, his eyes darkening with concern.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?” you innocently hummed, peering at him over the rim of the cup, your hands still wrapped around its comforting warmth.

“Is someone bullying you?”

Your doed eyes turn into confusion.

“Look, if someone ever tries to harm you, you know you can always come to me. I'll burn them with hot iron, slice —”

You chuckle at him, breaking his solemn tone, his turn now to be confused. His brow furrowed deeper, unsure why you found mirth in his protective offer.

Still, you laughed—though his sincerity rang clear, though his words held no jest.

“Kazuha, no one is harming me.” you managed through your chuckles. “Whatever makes you think that?” you say as you place down the cup

“Your bruises.” he says, soft and stern altogether. 

“Ah… that.” you stare at the bruise painting your skin and laughed all the more. Shaking your head, you turned away for a moment, stifling the giggles that still bubbled within you. Finding his protective nature both endearing and amusing

“Sorry, sorry.. it's just.. pfft…” you said between breaths as you look back at him.

“I promise no one is harming me. I mean that genuinely. It's just that… I bruise very easily whenever I'm on my period.”

Kazuha’s brows furrow even more into confusion. 

“I'm serious!... Every woman’s symptoms differ—some feel nothing at all, while others faint from the pain. Bruising easily isn’t common, but it does happen.” you replied earnestly, though your smile never faltered.

“I see.” 

The lines of confusion on his brow smooths into understanding. He rested his chin upon his hand, the familiar calm returning to his features.

“Mhm!” you exclaim happily with the misunderstanding out of the way. 

He looks back at you and smiles, his hands now reaching for a piece of chocolate. 

“For you to bruise easily like that, you're practically like a banana.” he chuckingly teased. 

“A what!?”

Kazuha grins, carefully shoving the chocolate into your opened lips as he mouths, 

“A banana"

[wheredafandomat]

The Chambermaid

Prince! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smutty smut smut

Having been promoted from simple maid to now a prince’s Chambermaid, you assumed the workload would be less considering you were now only catering to one person so you were surprised to find yourself even more exhausted now. Being a chambermaid to a royal meant waking up before them to ensure you had their breakfast ready, their bath drawn as well as their curtains and their clothes laid out all before sunrise; the royals woke frustratingly early. You later discovered that their early rise was to ensure that they all carried out any duties before midday allowing them the rest of the day free for other activities only the rich in Asgard could afford. Loki, although somewhat lacking duties, was no exception to this premature wake meaning neither was you.

Despite now only being contracted to ensure prince Loki’s welfare, you found yourself regaling his maidens too, and there were many. Most mornings you were cleaning up after them, fetching clothes for them and having the unfortunate job of marching them out of Loki’s rooms. You tried to do so with a smile, a smile that quickly faded to a frown whenever they’d make a comment in passing about your presence. Loki however was always quick to defend you. This morning you had managed to escort one of Loki’s flings out before running him a bath. Right now, you were making his bed, puffing his pillows when you noticed the markings in the headboard. You studied them, running your fingers over them when you realised they were bite marks. You wondered whose they were. Loki’s or theirs. You imagined how deep in the throes of passion you’d have to be to decide to take your pleasured anguish out on a headboard.

“Curious?”

You jumped as you heard Loki’s voice, startled as your hand fell from the frame. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to turn and face him.

“Your highness I—” you began before he interrupted.

“Please, it’s Loki” he corrected “my acquaintances are rather loud, they prefer to muffle their moans on my unfortunate headboard.” He spoke, clearly smirking from the tone of his voice. Well, that answers that question you thought as you slowly turned to face him, face flushing when you realised he was only covered by a towel hanging low on his waist. His skin was still wet, droplets cascading leisurely down his back, his shoulders, his face. You followed one down his chest, down his torso before it reached his muscular abdomen. You had to drag your eyes away from his Adonis belt before the droplet disappeared, the towel engulfing it. “I myself don’t muffle my moans but I’m not the one being fucked by a god.” He chuckled, removing his towel causing your breath to hitch as you spun around.

“Would you like me to um—to—“ you stuttered.

“Draw me another bath?” he interjected “I’ve just remembered that there’s a council meeting I’d like to avoid this morning and a bottle of wine I’d thoroughly enjoy immersed in it.”

“Umm-yes.” You spoke.

“Well, lead the way.” He prompted.

Your feet began to move, carrying you into Loki’s bathing chambers. Your hands were practically shaking as you twisted the tap before water came flooding out. Loki didn’t enter the washroom until the bath was full which was for the best considering he was currently completely naked. And wet.

“Not going to stay?” He called after you as you turned to leave. You paused, eyes rounding as you panicked.

“What?” You gulped.

“Apologies, that was said in jest, don’t look so pale” he assured. “Others would jump at the chance to bathe with me.” He snickered. “In fact, they do.” He added, mostly mumbling to himself. “That will be all y/n.” He dismissed.

“Your highness—” you were about to bid before he interrupted.

“Loki” he insisted “I call you y/n, you call me Loki.”

“Loki.” You nodded curtly before leaving.

Most of your mornings were the same until one morning things were different. The princes of Asgard were sent away for battle meaning that the prince's chambermaids, yourself included, didn’t have much to do throughout the day. You ensured Loki’s rooms were kept tidy and dust free but apart from that, you were left to your own devices.

One morning your devices left you running your hands over the bite marks on Loki’s headboard again. You couldn’t understand it, how anyone had managed to bite down so hard. You couldn’t picture sex so passionate, so electric that you’d subject your teeth to that torture. You thought about Loki’s previous words “but I’m not the one being fucked by a god”. Is that what makes the women so zealous, the fact that they’re sleeping with a god because that’s essentially what he is, a powerful, brooding god. Maybe that was the secret to messianic sex, sleeping with Loki.

Considering Loki’s room was uninhabited and your curiosity was well and truly piqued, you made your way onto his bed. Immediately you wanted to melt into the comfy sheets, bury yourself in his pillow but you couldn’t, that wasn’t the mission at hand. You ventured up the bed, facing the headboard as you did so until you were near his pillows. You lowered your head enough until your teeth were grazing the headboard but you were not close enough. You moved closer, his pillows underneath you as your teeth moved over the dents left from previous suitors. You imagined them, one by one as Loki fucked them. You imagined the movement of their hips, the way Loki would allow himself to moan freely. You added a tiny bit of pressure to your bite, thinking about how desperate they’d feel right before their climax, desperate enough to bite down harder. You hadn’t realised you were writhing above Loki’s pillows until you felt that familiar pressure building in your abdomen. It was wrong, truly wrong to continue now that you were aware but you were too close now. You ground your hips down harder, faster, eyes falling closed as you let the faux feeling of Loki around you, holding you engulf you. You came, sparing your teeth the pain by biting into your finger instead of the headboard.

You came down from your high before leaping away from Loki’s bed with shaky legs as if you had just been caught. Immediately you stripped it, replacing the bedding before leaving the room.

As the days went on, you found yourself yearning for Loki’s presence more and more. During the day, you prayed for his safe and no doubt victorious return but in the night, you imagined him when you’d touch yourself, cumming to the thought of his head between your thighs or him fucking you in his bed. It was a bad habit, thinking of him in this way knowing you’d never be in the fortunate position his lovers were but you couldn’t help it, Loki was your new obsession. You were enthralled.

One sunny morning whilst you were having a late breakfast, your presence was requested by Loki meaning that he was back. You tried to hide your elation as you rushed towards his rooms. Your smile was so wide that your mouth hurt. When you reached his door, you bit your smile down as you knocked. After a few moments you entered.

“Are you any good at stitching y/n?” Loki asked, facing his dressing table as you walked in.

“Yes, I can—” you began before Loki turned to face you “are you aware that you’re bleeding?” You pointed out, gesturing to the cut above his brow.

“Quite.” He answered.

“You want me to stitch you?” You gulped.

“I trust you.” He shrugged.

“And not the sisters in the medwing?”

“I trust you.” He repeated. You nodded in reply.

“Well, I just need to grab a few things.”

“I’ve got all the materials you will need.” He insisted.

“Right then, let’s get to work.” You clapped.

“Where do you want me?”

Underneath me

“Here’s fine.” You said, gesturing to his bed. Loki stood up with what looked like a first aid kit before making his way to his bed and sitting on the edge, looking up at you. You opened the first aid kit, laying the things you’d need out. “I’ve got to clean the wound first, it might sting a bit.” You announced, dabbing some cotton wool with rubbing alcohol. He nodded in reply before you pressed the antiseptic wool to his forehead. You knew it stung however Loki had no reaction. You positioned yourself closer to him, standing between his legs as you tilted his head further up before you began stitching. As you stitched, Loki’s gaze moved onto something else but his hand found its way onto your leg. His grip tightened whenever the needle penetrated his skin; it was obvious it hurt. You tried to ignore the tingling feeling flooding your centre as his hand practically caressed your inner thigh. His hand then ventured between your legs, wrapping around the back of one of your thighs as if this was better leverage against the needle. You wondered what he was thinking as you stitched, his face level with your cunt.

You hesitantly finished knowing that once you did, this moment of closeness would come to an end.

“It’s done.” You spoke, breaking the silence. You didn’t step away, he was still holding you.

“Thank you.” Loki smiled, looking up at you before slowly releasing your thigh, realising how tightly he had been holding it “sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled chastely. Your eyes lingered on one another’s for a few moments before you both realised and tore your gazes away from each other. “Well” you started, clearing your throat “if there’s nothing else, I’ll just be going.”

Loki nodded as you departed grudgingly. You made it to the door before wrapping your hand around the handle and turning it.

“Wait.” He called out, making you pause.

“Yes Loki.”

“Could you—um—would you” he stammered as you turned to face him.

“Yes?”

“Draw me a bath?”

You nodded, strangely upset that this was his only request. You had let your mind run away with you. You made your way to the washroom, tears pricking at your eyes. Once you had run Loki’s bath, you called after him to no reply. You made your way out, calling him again when you saw him lying on his bed but he didn’t answer. You tried again to no avail. It was clear that he was asleep so you thought it best if you simply left. You headed to the door again, pausing when you heard Loki’s half asleep voice.

“Stay.”

“W-what?” You answered, unsure whether you heard correctly.

“Stay here, please.”

“Okay Loki, I’ll stay.”

You stepped towards his bed cautiously, stiff as an iron board when you laid against the edge of it. Your eyes rounded when you felt Loki drape an arm around you before pulling you back against him until your back was against his chest. You felt him breathing softly against the nape of your neck, smelt him against the pillow, you were happily engulfed by him. Inhaling deeply, you allowed yourself the privilege of closing your eyes.

Hours later you were woken suddenly by the sound of Loki mumbling almost incoherently. Your eyes flew open as you felt him writhing against you; he was hard. You whispered his name but he didn’t answer so he was probably doing this in his sleep. His rock hard length was pressed against you so you pushed your hips backwards until he was firmly pressed against your ass. You let your mind wander again, imagining being one of Loki’s flings as he ruts against you in his sleep. Reaching behind you, you grabbed his hand before slowly placing it against your hip, stifling a little whimper at the feeling. You had heard of this phenomenon before, men returning from battle and having a delayed adrenaline rush. Was this it? Was this Loki’s delayed adrenaline ramping him up and turning him on?

Your dress began riding up your legs before you tugged it up and then paused, this was wrong. You knew you should be waking him up, stopping whatever this was but gods it felt good.

“Fuck” he muttered, grinding against you “don’t stop on my account.”

Great, now he was awake

“Loki I—” you began, unsure what to say.

“If it’s satisfaction you crave, continue pulling your dress up or by all means, you are free to leave, I won’t pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

You were silent, not sure how to answer.

“Make a decision, pet.”

Pet

Pet

Almost immediately, you pulled your dress up before tugging your panties down.

“Are you sure?” Loki spoke in your ear.

“Gods yes.” You almost moaned.

“Very well.” He smirked, slapping your ass causing you to bite down on your lip. You moved one of your legs slightly as he angled himself towards your entrance. You could already feel how slick you were with earliers heavy petting and the thought of him inside you so you wasn’t surprised when he slipped in with ease. His hands were both on you, caressing your body, holding your hip whilst he fucked you. He pulled you back against him, one of his hands snaking round you to tease your clit. You were near certain this was all a dream, a very sexy dream.

“Yess Lokii.” You moaned as he drew fast circles on your clit, his cock moving against your walls. He rolled you over until you were on your front and he was above you. You tried to stifle your pleasure in his pillow as he drilled into you, circling his hips as he came. He slowed his thrusts before pulling out completely and laying against the bed. You hadn’t realised, too lost in your own world until Loki’s spoke.

“Come here.” He commanded. You lifted your head, looking at him when you noticed that he was still hard. Obediently, you made your way towards him, lowering yourself on top of him, both of you moaning as he entered. With the new angle came new pleasure. You bounced above him, feeling him deep inside you as you screamed his name. He was gripping you tightly, chin tilted upwards as he looked at you. When your eyes met, you felt as if you were floating, the intimacy not going unnoticed. His fingers were rubbing your clit again, sending your pleasure into overdrive. Your thighs were already shaking.

“I’m gonna cum Lokiii, oohh godd.” You cried as he fucked up into you.

“Cum for me, come on, ughh, such a perfect cunt ughhh.” He groaned.

Your body tensed as you reached your climax, it was undeniably the best orgasm you had ever had. Before you had even fully recovered, Loki spoke.

“I want you on my face.”

“Loki” you gulped.

“Now.”

Submissively you once again followed suit, only pausing when you were positioned above him. Thinking about the practicalities of this position and not wanting to hurt him, you were about to object until he pulled you down on top of him, feasting on you. You moaned his name stridently as he suckled on your clit. You were already so sensitive, thighs quivering as he lapped up your arousal, the lewd sloppy noise filling the room. Your pleasure was too much, your moans were too much. The feeling was too much, too electric. Before you knew it, you were leaning forward, biting down on the headboard, making new markings as Lokis tongue entered you.

“Lokiii.” You cried, your orgasm spilling over you as your thighs tightened around his head. He continued licking your cunt, groaning as you came on his face. After a while, you realised Loki probably couldn’t breathe so you got off of him quickly, not knowing what came over you. Your hand found your mouth as you looked at Loki laying there red faced. “I’m so sor—”

“No, that was perfect” he beamed, licking his lips “norns you’ve made me hard again.” He smirked.

That was unexpected

Loki made his way off of the bed, standing at the edge as he pulled you towards him, positioning your legs over his shoulders before entering you again. You fucked, you came, Loki lifted you up and had you against the wall before you both came again until you were both thoroughly sated.

Eventually the two of you relaxed in a bath, Loki massaging your shoulders as you sat between his legs. It felt unfamiliar to be in the basin this time.

When you were finished, you were back in his bed, only laying down this time before falling asleep. You knew you were bound to wake up sore.

Needless to say, you never had to chase any more wayward women away. You were enough.

Omg I wrote this on google docs I’ve been putting off writing anything because I didn’t wanna use google docs 😂 anyways I’ll probs finish off the requests next week considering I’m a google docs bitch now eh

Tags:

@lokisninerealms @lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @lulubelle814 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @eyesbluelikethetitanic @vickie5446 @mcufan72 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @lokilvrr @evelyn-kingsley @strangelockd @xorpsbane @lovingchoices14 @donaweasley @sailorholly

[muddyorbsblr]

reckless girl pt1

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @holdmytesseract

Summary: When you didn't show up for your date with Magnus, the last place he thought he'd find you was inside the Ystad police station…in a holding cell

Pairing: Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: talks of injuries; cliffhanger at the end

Things to be aware of: established relationship

"Why so glum, Martinsson? Not enough sleep?" Kurt clapped a hand on the curly blond haired detective's soldier, jerking him out of his worry spiral. "Girl trouble?"

Magnus lifted his chin from his joint fists, unable to iron out the furrow between his eyebrows. "Something like that…Y/N, my girlfriend. We were supposed to meet after my shift last night and she never showed. Hasn't called or texted either."

"Maybe she ghosted you, lad," Svedberg jested from his desk. "Had enough of the barflies clinging about you, did 'erself a favor."

"No," he said with conviction. "She wouldn't do that, that's not her." You'd been dating for long enough that he knew you wouldn't just disappear from his life with no contact like that. There was something else going on, there had to be. Another reason why you weren't at the restaurant last night. Another reason you weren't picking up your phone.

"Maybe try her again," Kurt offered. "If you still have nothing, you can always find a reason to patrol around her area and pay your girl a visit."

"Really? You won't be cross if I did?"

"For anyone else I'd suspend them on the spot if they attended to matters of the heart while on duty but I'd rather have the brightest bulb in the station actually functioning in the station, rather than have his mind wandering off to where his lady could be." He gave the younger detective a tight smile, knowing full well that had he been in Martinsson's spot, he'd be doing the same thing. "Try her again."

This time your phone rang twice before someone answered. "This is the Ystad holding area, and the owner of this mobile has been detained until--"

"Officer Jansen?"

"Detective Martinsson? Why are you calling--"

"Where's Y/N? This is her phone I've been trying to reach her since last night and--"

"Well last night a Ms Y/L/N was brought here for holding and we confiscated this phone off her person. Drunk and disorderly behavior," Jansen offered.

Just then another voice, your voice, spoke through the line. "Hey, the other guy was drunk and disorderly, it's not my fault the wanker couldn't fight!"

Magnus took a deep breath, a mix of both frustration and relief. Mostly the latter knowing now where you were exactly and that he would most likely see you in the next few minutes. "Jansen, I don't know what she did but I can guarantee you she probably had a good reason for it. Could you maybe…I dunno, let her off with a warning? I'll talk to her, make sure this doesn't happen again."

There was a deep sigh from the other end of the line before the officer spoke again. "Fine. She doesn't have a record, and the other guy seems to be too embarrassed to press charges seeing as he got his arse beat by a woman, so her name stays clean. But if this happens again--"

"It won't," he answered, a little less conviction in his tone. "Could you please send her here, though? I've been on edge since last night."

"Say no more, I'll have her there with an escort in a few minutes."

It didn't take long until another officer from the holding area stepped into the detectives area, and Magnus finally laid his eyes on you. And he saw red.

The second the officer uncuffed you, he was rushing over, placing his hands on your shoulders trying to assess the damage done. Your neck was red and purple, the skin of your knuckles split and bloodied, cuts and scrapes all over your face. There even seemed to still be specks of dirt in some of the wounds.

"Hello, sweetie," you spoke after a few moments of him taking stock of the injuries you sustained, wincing when you tried to give him a smile and it opened the wound on your lip that had only healed a fraction of the way the night before. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the restaurant--"

"Never mind that, darling," he waved off your apology, taking your hands in his and pressing his lips to the backs of your fingers, being careful not to touch any injured portion of your skin. "All I care about right now is that you're safe." He jerked his head over to his desk. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. And then you can tell me what happened. Starting with who dared lay a hand and bloody up my precious angel's face like this."

"My sister Stella's in town and we went out straight after my shift to grab some drinks--Ach." You flinched at the stinging of the alcohol-soaked cotton round that he pressed to the cut on your cheek.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, ignoring the teasing remarks from the other detectives on the floor as he tended to your wounds. "But we have to get these cleaned out so they don't get infected. We've already lost so much time since these just stayed as they were the entire time you were in that holding cell."

"I know I know," you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut when he resumed disinfecting the cuts. "It's not my first fight, you know. Still stings like a right bitch every bloody time, though."

He finished dressing the wounds on your face before moving to your cut and bruised knuckles. "Did no one even come to check on you before they booked you last night?" he grumbled, seeing the caked blood and dirt around these wounds as well.

"No. Everyone's attention was mostly on the other guy, making sure he got to the hospital safe and all that."

"Ah, so you're the mystery assailant," Kurt spoke up, walking up to Magnus' desk. "I just got off the phone with the hospital about some professional pick-up artist, whatever the shite that is, and how he refuses to press charges because if anyone knew what happened to him it'll ruin his image." He stuck out a hand toward you. "Kurt Wallander, I'm Magnus' supervising officer."

You gave him a little wave in response. "Not exactly how I pictured meeting Magnus' workmates, but I'll take it. Hi. Y/N Y/L/N, pleased to make your acquaintance. I'd shake your hand but--"

"I'll be quite cross with you if you split open your wounds over pleasantries, sweetheart," the blond detective butted in. He turned to his supervisor. "Hang on the case you were called to this morning? The assault victim? That was--"

"Hold on…if the wanker didn't press charges, does the word 'assailant' still apply to me?"

"Yes," both men said at once.

"But I'm willing to consider this a case deservedly closed since firstly, the pervert wanker chose not to press charges. And second, he's had it coming for a long while. Man's got an entire binder of reports for sleazeball behavior, but we just don't have the laws here yet to book someone for unjust vexation," Kurt told you both before addressing you directly. "Just don't make a habit out of getting detained or else I won't be able to do anything about the station giving your boyfriend grief over dating a 'bad girl'." He put the last bit in air quotes, jerking his head over at the desks of the jeering detectives on the other side of the floor.

"I'll do what I can," you shot back, scrunching your nose in place of a smile. "But in my defense, he was getting handsy with my sister and she's a little too peaceful and zen that the woman wouldn't hurt a fly, I had to."

"Careful, darling. Wallander here has a soft spot for the hero types, he might just issue you a gun," Magnus joked, finishing up on your knuckles and pressing a soft kiss to the bandages.

"Considering that the man you put in the hospital is just one in a large group of men doing much of the same?" the senior detective shot back. "I might just, might even give Linda one just to err on the side of caution and all that." He took a finger at you. "You be careful out there. Willing to bet my badge you ticked off a good few unstable men with egos bigger than their brain power. Some of them might be capable of a bit more than a few cuts and scrapes. And might be on the hunt for who put one of their own in casts and stitches."

"I'll keep safe. Thank you, Detective Wallander." You stood up and gave an awkward wave, making a motion to start walking out of the station. "I should get going. Wouldn't want to take up more of Magnus' time while he's at work."

That got the blond detective shooting out of his seat. "I'll see you out, then." He led you out the station, hand securely at your waist as he made sure you could walk properly. "Go straight home, tell your sister you're safe and you're not going to jail. And then tomorrow, how about we meet for breakfast after you've had some rest?"

"Yes, Sir," you answered playfully before throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. "Thank you, Mags," you whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek. "I love you."

His heart caught in his throat at your words. You'd never said it first before. "I love you, too, little spitfire." He tucked his fingers under your chin, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before letting you go. "I'll see you in the morning."

Only when morning came, he sat at the restaurant near the station all alone, letting a whole hour pass before concluding that you weren't coming once again. Going off of what had transpired the day before, he showed up at the Ystad police station's holding area a good hour ahead of his shift, ready to try his luck at talking your way out of whatever situation you'd gotten yourself into.

"Morning, Martinsson," Jansen greeted him once the officer caught sight of the blond curls descending the stairs. "What brings you here so early--"

"Is Y/N here? Again?"

The officer began typing away at the system, giving commentary along the way. "She's a bit of a baddie, isn't she? Getting booked there twice in just as many days--Huh…" Jansen tilted his head in confusion at the information on the screen. "I don't see anything from last night's records. Maybe check the holding cells just in case? Sorry, Martinsson."

Magnus let out a sharp exhale, the frustration radiating off him in waves. "No worries. Thanks, Jansen." He set off toward the three holding cells they had in the station, only one of them being occupied by a drunk driver that was booked last night and was awaiting for his wife to bail him out. The other two were empty and clean as a whistle, no sign of anyone having even been there in the last 24 hours.

He picked up his phone and tapped on your name, his heart thundering in his ears as he waited for you to answer. "Please tell me you just slept in, sweetheart," he mumbled, his body already shaking with every second his call went unanswered.

But then the line got picked up, and his heart lodged itself in his throat.

"Hello?" The voice of a woman. But not yours.

"Who is this?" he nearly barked at the stranger's voice. "Where's Y/N?"

"I'm Stella, her sister, hold on who the hell are you?"

"Magnus, her boyfriend. Where's your sister? Why do you have her phone?" His tone became more impatient.

"She was supposed to meet me last night for dinner. Told me she needed to get some rest after what happened the other day that got her arrested," your sister explained, the answer making the detective even more panicked. "She never showed, figured she slept too long and I'd pick her up for some breakfast, but--" Her breath hitched on the other line, a jagged exhale coming through from her end as she composed herself. "She's not here. And the place is a mess. Hang on--If you're the boyfriend, you're the detective, right?"

"Y-Yes, yes I am." He could barely manage the words; he felt so hollow inside, dreading what words he would hear next.

"I'd like to report a crime, then," Stella spoke, her voice wavering as she tried to put up a brave front. "My sister's missing, there's blood on the floor. Someone's hurt my sister."

A/N: Eeeeeee I'm so excited to give this one to y'all! It's been a while since I started on another request and when I tell you that the words just started flying when I got into the vibe that this story was gonna give. I know I know…there's a cliffhanger…but there will be a part 2 in a few days and we're gonna see just what happened after YN left the station…

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Magnus taglist: @vbecker10

[yuurei20]

Short translation from the second Twisted Wonderland novel: Jack and Yuuya

"First-year student, Jack, has been selected to play for Savanaclaw. The team that is overseen by Leona Kingscholar.

His appointment drew a lot of attention from other students. Very few athletes have ever managed to earn a place on that particular dorm’s roster immediately after enrolling. Savanaclaw is a powerhouse both by reputation and in reality, and when Leona was selected for the team three years ago, it sent shockwaves throughout the school.

You must prove yourself worthy by being unusually intelligent, magically proficient or physically adept—or all three—within the first month or two of enrollment in order to manage it.

Such a promotion would normally be reason for celebration, but Jack seems to struggle with mixed feelings on the matter, as he knows what Leona is planning.

When Ace and Deuce tease him for it, half in jest, Jack makes a pained expression and responds, ‘Praise from someone so underhanded is nothing to be happy about.'

‘You’re not thinking about dropping out though, are you?’

‘Of course not.’

Yuuya has been worried, but Jack’s expression immediately sours.

‘I don’t run away, no matter what. I’m gonna fight fair and square.’

‘In that case, something’s off,’ Ace says, pointing in the direction from which they’ve come with a puzzled look. ‘The procession is gonna start from the main building, right? Coming over here means twice the back-and-forth. So what are you doing out here?’

‘It’s not as out of the way as all that. I wanted to warm up before the match, so I went for a run. Then I just happened to see you guys…’

‘A run?’ Grim interjects. ‘That’s the same thing ya said this morning.’

Jack stops dead in his tracks.

‘You're overdoin’ it with all this runnin’ around before the match. Sure, you made the team, but this is takin' it too far.’ 

Grim seems mostly surprised by how Jack never grows bored of exercise, but Yuuya and the others shake their heads. It is unquestionably strange for Jack to have intentionally strayed so far from the meeting point for the procession, and now Jack himself is glancing about with shifty eyes.

Deuce and Ace exchange a sly grin.

‘It’s impressive that you managed to find us with all these people around. You sure it was a coincidence?’

‘And going for a run in your dorm uniform? You expect us to believe that?’

Suddenly flustered, Jack raises his voice defensively. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way! It's not like I came here to see how you guys are doing because I was worried that you might be nervous. It's just a coincidence! Coincidence!’

‘What’s the matter, Jack-kun? Getting all worked up. All you gotta say is, ‘I came to check on you because I was worried.’ Can’t be honest, huh?’ Ace mocks Jack’s obvious displeasure. Deuce chuckles, saying, ‘You’re hardly one to talk about not being honest.’

Yuuya had this same thought this morning at Ramshackle: Jack is good at looking out for others. He has a strong sense of responsibility that manifests in how he acts without thinking—without any hesitation. 

He bickers with Ace now, but his usual silent composure always feels just as dependable. He will often say that he doesn’t like moving in herds, but he probably finds others relying on him in classes, too, whether he likes it or not. The scene is reminiscent of when Jack chased off the ghosts this morning, telling them to stay away from him, and Yuuya finds himself laughing right alongside Deuce.

Jack, his faced flushed, looks straight at them. ‘Hey, cut that out!’

‘Ah, I’m sorry.’

Yuuya reflexively apologizes in reaction to the intimidating words. 

Jack was perhaps a little louder than he’d intended to be due to being so flustered, surprising even himself. Looking annoyed, he purses his lips.

‘…it’s not like I’m that angry about it.’ His tone is now much more subdued.

Yuuya apologizes again and Jack’s expression remains stiff, though his white ears twitch in response. 

‘And stop talking so formal all the time. We’re in the same year. It’s like I’m bullying you or something—it feels wrong.’

’I really didn’t mean to…’ Confused by the deepening furrow between Jack’s brows, Yuuya nods. ‘Okay. Sorry about that.’

Yuuya has been unconsciously using formal speech with Jack in response to the intensity of his first impression, but they are classmates, after all. It must have seemed rather odd, and then made even odder in contrast to how he speaks with his other fellow first-years, Ace and Deuce. 

‘As long as you get it.’ Though Jack’s gaze is still sharp, his tightly pursued lips seem to gentle.

Ace smirks, nudging Jack with his elbow. ‘Huh. I think I’m starting to get your vibe.’

‘What now—you mocking me?’

’Nah. Just think you’re funny.’

When Deuce joins in the teasing Jack shouts, ‘Shut up!,’ but the two are used to him now, and not the slightest bit intimidated. And Yuuya, who has come to understand Jack’s earnestness, now finds him interesting instead of frightening.

'Oh my, is that Jack Howl from Savanaclaw?’"

(This connects to Azul's introduction, below!)

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ok random thought, but what if Jake wore his hair down in illegal gambling arc because he wanted to save money, so he didn’t buy pomade? Like he did when he ate ramyeon for weeks straight🥹 Had to share it with somebody, you came to my mind

Sneaky sneaky, giving me brainrot. This is VERY indulgent. VERY rambly. More so than usual. Honestly, I dont even know what this is.

Jake Kim x Reader: Hair Pomade

G/N. Gambling arc. Jake has a new hairstyle.

You didn't mind Jake's new hair, though you did mind why he had to wear it that way.

A part of you couldn't help but think that if your own features fit together as nicely as his does, you would never have any of your face covered up. Even if it was just his forehead, fringe sweeping over his eyebrows.

It just seems a waste to hide any of it.

"What, you don't like my new look?" he would ask with an exaggerated pout, after you brushed his hair back one too many times as he lay his head in your lap. It was clearly said in jest but you could identify some of the tension and hurt beneath his carefully casual demeanour.

That in itself was strange.

Jake barely ever cared about his looks. Coupled with the way he's become impatient and irritable in the last couple months, you could tell something had been brewing.

You did try to poke and prod at whatever was lurking in his mind, to figure out the source of his issues. You never got an answer. Every time you did though, you would get the old Jake back. Just for a few days. Where he was all smiles, attentive and affectionate until whatever burden he had hit him full force again.

Other changes caught your eye too. Don't think you've missed the way he's been more frugal lately, previous dates are now replaced with mostly hanging out at yours.

Again, you didn't mind. But add that to the fact you've seen him dropping a little of his bulk, skin losing its usual glow and you've also seen the amount of ramen (and only ramen) he has been eating-

You can put two and two together.

For whatever reason, you conclude, Jake is scrimping and saving. And that includes cutting back on hair pomade.

You barely have two wons to rub together yourself. However, the hair pomade, or lack thereof, made you a lot sadder than it really should.

Just that whatever Jake had to do, whatever he couldn't share with you, meant that he couldn't have that little routine he has followed for years. Since before you two got together.

That time to himself each morning, where he would get his hair just how he liked it. Smiling a little to himself once its styled in his usual way. A little peace before the chaos of the day truly started.

Maybe you over egged the significance of this, overthinking and spiralling. Nevertheless, you did what you could.

When Jake pulled the little tub out of a gift bag, the one he always used with the black container and white font, he mistook the gift for him as your own personal preference.

"You hate it that much?" Again with the lighthearted tone, yet his eyes are tight.

"No," you reach up to kiss him and ruffle his hair, "I just know how much you liked to wear it swept back... and maybe I'll cook tonight? You've had enough ramen for a lifetime."

Jake swallows down the lump in his throat.

He doesn't know what to say. Has it been that obvious with how much he has been struggling in the last few months? Of course you could clearly see through him. He should have known better than to keep it from you.

Jake can't tell you everything, but perhaps he can tell you some things.

The tightness in his eyes is replaced by a wetness. He doesn't look at you, he can't. If he does he thinks he might crack.

Jake keeps his eyes downcast, staring at the tub gripped in his hand.

The hair pomade, that really should be insignificant, that meant nothing - means everything to him.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 4 - Fucked

The rogue accepts an offer.

On AO3.

“Tell her we need to fix this,” Astarion says.

Their illustrious leader, buried in their tadpole connection, rolls her eyes. He can tell, linked up like this. Is strongly tempted to slip into her mind and peer out through her eyes just to make sure it’s not all some horrifying jest.

But that would make her angry. He remembers all too well the snarl on her blood-slicked face the last time he tried (and succeeded).

Through the link, he feels the cleric throw her hands up.

There’s nothing she can do from…wherever she is. And Astarion didn’t have the good luck to be teleported next to a healer or a wizard or a flea-bitten druid.

Who no one has heard from and they all (mostly all) join in a low thrum of worry.

No, he landed next to the magic-less, unskilled, ignorant alien human.

He has the presence of mind, through the familiar, tight panic, to curl in on himself for that thought; wouldn’t do for said alien human to go hearing that particular slip.

“He’s already had a healing potion,” their illustrious leader says aloud, and he can feel the shape of her thoughts shifting to convey that to the others. “He looks fine. Don’t see no damage, and his pupils respond to the light. He just can’t see none of it.”

Consternation. Puzzlement. And what feels quite a bit like curiosity and smugness from the damned wizard.

“I did warn you about that trap,” the damned wizard says. “This is likely the intended effect. I’d wager it’s a magical ailment. Blindness and random teleportation. What better way to be rid of an uninvited guest?”

It’s the tone and the words and he can’t fucking see, and all Astarion can smell is blood and undeath and stale sex. Uninvited guests. The pleasure rooms. His only talent, his only function.

He rips himself out of the connection to slump back into his worthless body. Battered from the knees down, his gullet turned inside out, and utterly, uselessly blind.

Astarion does not need to breathe. There have been times where it’s better not to—foul odors, stalking prey, being stalked as prey. He knows that a deep inhale and controlled exhale soothes mortal, living people. But when he tries it, it’s nothing but a farce. An undead playing at living.

He finds a stone and hurls it as hard as he can.

Beside him, his leader flinches.

She was right about her theory. Them finding each other and becoming easier to sense. But the others are still too far to get any kind of precise location, and they still need a waypoint stone, and the two of them are dreadfully far from all the others combined. So they’re still stranded from anyone who could possibly heal his godsdamned eyes.

He’s blind and he’s helpless. And a helpless ally is a useless ally and the moment he becomes dead weight (ha), their leader will no longer be obligated to carry on with this alliance.

The thought of being left down here—stumbling and sightless…the Underdark is vast, but without sight, without knowing where he is, he’s effectively trapped. Sealed up in the dark and the silence all alone again and he can’t, he cannot—

A tap on his wrist. His illustrious leader. He pulls his thoughts back to the present with some effort.

“Yes?” he says.

A brief pause. Then, “You, uh. You ain’t had nothing to eat since before the creche, huh? Aside from that fight back on the surface?”

The gith blood. Not the best he’s ever tasted, but still immeasurably better than putrid rat. The gith had still been alive; no fur or maggots or coagulation to be caught in his teeth.

“I’m fine, darling,” he says.

Their illustrious leader has never taken part in a hunt with the Blade and their druid and their own, very cranky gith. She has no qualms about chopping up dead bunnies, under the wizard’s tutelage (while the gith scoffs at the very idea of cooking). He can’t imagine her chasing down cave bats or the blind rats he’s heard lurk down here.

“Shadowheart,” she says. She has a habit of starting a sentence and then pauses. At least, she does when she speaks to him and it’s not some kind of order. He counts one, two, and right on cue, “She told me what you said. About undead folks being, y’know, undead and potions not working real good.”

Real good. As if that in any way conveys the sensation of innards melting from the inside.

And he notes the careful sidestep with her phrasing. “Undead folks.” A tidy avoidance of what he really is: a monster. Another in her array of contradictions for him to fold away. She spends so much time splashing about in profanity it’s easy to forget she can actually wield her language adeptly.

“Another gift from our parasitic friends, yes,” he says and taps his temple.

“So what normally heals you?”

“Time.” He pauses. Water drips somewhere. He almost says, “It’ll be far worse if we don’t.” Fear can be an excellent motivator in at least pretending to be able to walk. But he suspects that will make her go all quiet and staring-into-the-distance again, and there’s no other sound but her pulse and he’d rather not think of that. So, optimistically, he says, “Blood.”

Perhaps she has a spare bottle. She carries around a lot of stuff that she gives to the others. Usually food. And she seems serious about this whole alliance, so she might have thought to stash something away even for him.

“Shit,” she says.

So she doesn’t have a spare bottle of blood clinking around in that bag. Ah well. Hope is a foolish thing, anyway. He’s starved for much longer than this.

Then a curious sound reaches his ears. It’s cloth. A peculiar rustling. Not like she’s moving around or trying to stand. It’s rather like…rolling up a sleeve—

She wouldn’t.

She would.

Oh, what a foolish little idiot. After cutting off his tab to “create distance” she’s offered twice. He’s declined both times, as he had access to other means and relying on charity is the best way to ruin. But down here, alone in the dark, she’s going to give him her blood.

It plucks unpleasantly at his dead heart. He can’t repay her. Not like this. And not while she’s still set on rejecting his only true talent.

The smart thing would be to refuse. The potion earlier put his knee back into place. And the wizard seemed certain that his blindness is arcane pettiness from a long dead, completely mad wizard.

But perhaps this is what he needs? Appealing to his vampiric nature to do what it normally does? And the hunger—so easily pushed away for two centuries, now grown acclimated to being somewhat sated—comes roaring up beneath his skin.

In the end, Astarion is not a smart man.

“I’ve a goblet in my pack,” he says through a mouth suddenly too wet. He has to speak carefully to avoid salivating like some beast. “And my knives are always sharp, if you’d prefer to use those.”

He’s…not even sure she has a knife of her own. They should find her one. Not even as a weapon, necessarily, but for day-to-day use. He assumes it’s difficult for someone without fangs to open up the belly of a bunny so she can go about gutting it.

But she makes a sound, and his thoughts stop short.

“I, uh,” she says. One, two…

No three. No four, even. Not her usually pause, then. He frowns.

Her voice, when she does use it again, is quieter. “I…can’t. The cup thing. I can’t do that to myself.”

“I can show you where to slice,” he says. “It needn’t be a large injury. You’ll barely feel it and we’ll stay far from anything vital.”

But once again, that long pause. Her fingers tap ever so softly at her thigh, and he can picture her tracing that pattern over her thumbnail, back and forth, over and over.

“I think it would be easier if you bit me,” she says.

Interest tugs at him. Blood from a goblet is fine; they’ve started letting him at their kills before they skin them and chop them up and put them in a pot. But they bleed it—mostly the Blade of Frontiers—for him, presenting him his supper nice and tidy in a goblet or a bottle.

It’s fine. It’s better than fine. They just hand it over. He doesn’t have to do anything but lift a hand to accept it, and they’ve already hunted the thing down for themselves, so really, he’s just taking his portion of the spoils.

However. There’s something entirely different about feeling a pulse beneath his lips. Sinking his aching fangs into flesh until they pop and pierce and that blood, fresh and salty and hot, hits the back of his throat. He can be close enough to grab. To wrench. To feel the life of the thing as it pours into his waiting mouth, gulping greedily down to fill his own body.

“I thought you wanted distance, darling?” he says. Much better to make the other person squirm. Put them off before they can notice anything from him. “That’s rather intimate, don’t you think?”

“You can’t even see and you’re still gonna try that shit?” she says because she’s endearing like that.

He feels his lips twitch in a smile. “I’m only checking. I’d like to avoid any future, ah, misunderstandings.”

She swears so quietly he almost doesn’t make out the words. My, my, but her people really do love turning sex acts into vulgarity. What a strange society she must come from.

Her next sigh is sharp. She says, “Fuck.” And then doesn’t elaborate for a moment. Then, “To avoid misunderstandings, I would prefer to give you a container of my blood.”

Is that…is that a flicker of disappointment in himself? He gawks at it in horror before stomping it down.

“But I can’t…I got…issues. With the method.” She shifts, takes a few deep breaths because she is a living person and that helps her. “The, uh, cutting myself. I can’t. It’s not an ability thing, it’s more of a, uh, mental thing.”

Hmm.

“Is that all?” he says. “Odd, but fine. Would you like me to do it?”

“Without vision?”

“I can tell where your blood is.”

And only after he says it does he realize that might have been disquieting.

She stops breathing a moment. Then a faint huff. “Y’know, y’all really are camouflage predators, ain’t you? I get so used to you, then you go and say shit like that and I remember you’re different.”

Again, a very careful dodge of the word most people would use.

“I do aim to please,” he says and gives her the best, shallow bow he can manage while seated. He did that the first time with her out of mockery. But then she started returning the gesture, and it lost its abrasive edges. Became a routine. One that…calms him, for some reason. Probably the reliability of it.

“Course you do. Which is why you call Gale’s cooking terrible, Shadowheart’s hair ugly, and me illiterate.”

Oh shit.

“I—” he starts. He doesn’t even want to know what her face is doing. Old instincts come rushing back. Twist it into a jest. Apologize. Do something, anything to deflect the punishment and hope it won’t be severe (it will be; it always is).

But her finger taps his wrist again.

“I was teasing you,” she says in a disgustingly soft voice. “Sorry. You couldn’t see the face I was making.”

Which does nothing to alleviate the rising dread. He can’t let her know that, though. So on with his easy smile. “Of course, darling. You did mention your illiteracy when you said your name was Jar Edd.”

He can almost feel the confusion twist her face. Can picture it quite clearly. At first, it looks like a blank stare (as so many of her emotions do). But lately, he’s noticed a shift. More fluidity. It’s the eyes, mostly. The way her brows scrunch and her eyes narrow. A perfect painting of judgment without saying a word.

“Jesus christ, I did say that,” she says. Groans. “That was…also a joke. A kind of saying where I come from. I can’t read y’all’s alphabet, was what I was meant.”

“I take it you’re literate in your own language, then?”

This is something he knows. Get his mark to talk. Most people love to talk, especially to a pretty face. Especially if that pretty face makes the correct, interested noises, a light touch to the wrist, leaning in slowly. The trick is to stare just below and between the brows. Makes it looks like he’s gazing into their eyes, enraptured. Or so some of them have admitted. He can pay just enough attention to respond at the right times while going off in his own head.

Only this mark is too succinct when she’s not plotting a murder. And all she says is, “Very. Gale’s been teaching me y’all’s, though.”

And then literally nothing else.

“The wizard,” Astarion sniffs because that’s expected of him now. “He’s teaching you Common, then?”

“I…think so?”

He really doesn’t have to try so hard. Doesn’t need to put so much effort into this. Yet her voice took on a warmth when she said “very” and books were one of the few escapes he could manage between targets, when no one was looking. He finds himself saying, “It’s hardly a proper language, darling. Not for reading. It’s more of a spoken language used by merchants for negotiation. If it’s literature you’re after, you’re much better off learning Chondathan to start with.”

“Um.”

Ah, right. She’s mortal and speaks none of their languages. Common will be useful enough, he supposes. But that can’t be her only tongue if the scuttlebutt around camp is accurate and she’s stuck on Toril when this is all over. Assuming they aren’t all dead or turned into illithid monstrosities, anyway.

“Yeah,” she drawls out as two syllables, the way she sometimes does. It’s a clever dip to the back of her tongue that does it, twists the “eh” into an “ah” with a fun little roll. “Anyway, I think it’d just be easier if you did this the old-fashioned way. See if my blood fixes anything. You need to eat, regardless.”

Such a generous offer. Some kind of trap, most likely. One he can’t currently avoid. “If that’s your decision, darling.”

She touches his wrist through his sleeve and lets him take her own. Her flesh is so warm. The back of her hand is soft. So were her palms and fingers the first time he did this; a hint of calluses now alter that particular landscape. The gith has been working with her again.

It’s difficult to describe the way he feels blood. It’s so wrapped through him, twisting thorns embedded deep along his bones, branching through his muscles and sinews to spike behind his eyes, within his fangs. He’s always aware of it; of hers, especially. She was his first, proper taste. A thinking creature’s blood. His body hones in on that the way seafarers look to Ieryn, their guiding star.

She’s alive in his senses simply sitting beside him. Now, touching her, bringing her arm up to his mouth, all his senses (except his godsdamned sight) go a bit mad. The scent of her: mortal heat, the fading smell of sunshine and forest upon her clothes, fresh sweat (she takes great care to bathe daily whenever possible, which he finds rather charming), and lingering woodsmoke.

Her pulse thrums beneath her skin. Her lungs expand. He’s sure if she sat very still and he focused, he could hear the susurration of her muscles, the soft bat of her lashes blinking, the gentle swish as she tucks her growing hair behind her ear (quite uselessly; it’s still too short to stay there).

And her blood. The ever-present blood. It sings to him. Reaches into him with hooks and drags him to her. Brings his face to her arm. His lips to her skin and he can taste the salt upon it. He knows where to bite—his teeth pull him right to that sweet spot—but he can’t help but linger. Feeling her heat on his lips. The soft beat against the tip of his tongue. So warm. So alive.

She shifts. Trousers rustle, and he can wait no longer. He plunges his fangs into her soft, soft flesh.

Notes:

And it turns out I did bite off more than I can chew, and forgot that the chapters run a little longer than the last fic. So I won't be updating on Saturday, unfortunately. Hopefully, that'll be the buffer I need to get ahead a bit more and I can resume the twice-a-week updates.

Previous - Index - Next

[stellamancer]

niku just as you predicted i would want you to write an established relationship of infinite loop. maybe with an argument. and reader is the one at fault. and maybe has to make it up to gojo. maybe.

don't perceive me posting this like months after getting the ask.

but damn sel, you really chose violence with this prompt.

okay so it's honestly hard to imagine infinite loop couple getting into serious arguments, even pre-relationship. it's really a lot of bickering (mostly from reader), but gojo is just so laid back about things… like they've only really had two real and true arguments (read: things that actually bothered gojo). but they are still friends!! maybe I should write more fics where it's more obvious…

anyway, I had an idea for this but every way I tried to pitch it in my head just didn't work: it either didn't mesh with gojo or infinite loop reader or both to the point that I was frustrated with both of them and their whole dynamic. LMAO.

so I ended up looking at old fics to see if there was something I could work with there and like. infinite loop reader is… very independent? and there have been multiple times, both seriously and in jest where gojo has told them that they can rely on him. and it's not like they make the active decision to not rely on him, it's more that they just automatically default to their own tendency to be self reliant and think that they are totally fine and don't feel overwhelmed.

which is… probably mostly true.

anyway, I think that pre-relationship gojo realizes that there's a limit to how much reader is willing to depend on him as a friend (which is way too low in his opinion). that being said, once they start dating he thinks that reader will rely on him more, but that doesn't happen. it's not like an argument per se, but more like…

“you could stand to rely on me a little more, you know,” gojo says, mouth forming a wry smile.

it’s almost impossible to miss the bitter note in his tone, dissonant amongst the otherwise light hearted sound of his voice. it makes your chest ache in a way. you hadn't meant to hurt his feelings; asking for his help had genuinely slipped your mind. “i… I know.”

you mean to apologize, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat on the way out and instead all you offer gojo is a strangled silence.

he understands though, or at least you think he does, as he leans down and presses his forehead to yours. “don't forget next time, or else I’ll have to punish you.”

you gulp, suddenly nervous to have gojo’s face so close to yours, breath warm on your face. it sounds more like he’s trying to seduce you than threaten you, but given that it’s gojo, it’s practically the same thing. “o-okay.”

gojo hums, seemingly satisfied, but he doesn’t move. your heart rate starts to pick up speed as he lingers. is he going to kiss you? is he going to demand the apology you surely owe him as a kiss? that seems like something he’d do, but he pulls away and you finally exhale.

you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath.

gojo tilts his head and grins in amusement. “disappointed?”

“...no,” you answer, but it feels like a lie.

“uh-huh.”

i mean i suppose reader could have apologized then and there but I doubt that would satisfy you so… so, soon after this gojo goes on a weeklong mission in kobe, and while he's gone reader goes to kyoto to visit their father's grave for the anniversary of his death. it very briefly occurs to them to maybe mention that they’re in the area to gojo, but they ultimately decide not to because they think it'll distract him from his mission (technically true).

so they get to the grave, but when they do they find that someone else is there and to their dismay, it's their mother. i’ve never talked at length about infinite loop reader's backstory, but they do not have a good relationship with their mother (or their mother's side of the family at that). reader debates whether or not they just want to leave and come back later to avoid dealing with their mother, but before they can she notices them and comes over to them, all cheery and smiles.

reader is just like ‘well shit’ and lets their mother drag them over to the grave while she chatters about how happy she is to see reader and how glad she is that she ran into them and reader kind of tunes it out but then—

your mother glances past you, her gaze expectant before looking back at you in mild confusion. “where is the gojo boy? is he not with you?”

her question makes you nearly choke. why is she asking about him? then again it's not like your relationship is a secret and with how much of a blabbermouth gojo is you wouldn't be surprised if the whole country knew that you're dating, not just the upper echelons of jujutsu society. “he's on an assignment.”

she clicks her tongue in disappointment. “too bad. I was hoping to see him too…”

hilariously, while gojo’s blabbermouth is why their mom asked about him, it's not exactly for what they think, but that's another story for another time.

anyway, reader's mother rambles on and eventually reader is just like ‘why are you even here?’ and infinite loop mama tells them that she cared about infinite loop papa too and that she tries to visit every year but she's glad that she finally ran into reader and this whole time reader is kinda just seething but since they don't say anything infinite loop mama is none the wiser and is just like ‘shall we clean up your father's grave together?’

infinite loop reader just wants to tell her off but thinks that their father would be happy if reader and their mom got along so they're just like “okay fine” and they go off to rent a bucket from the temple near the gravesite to use to wash the grave while infinite loop mama starts taking care of the weeds around the grave.

as reader is filling the bucket with water they're thinking how much this fucking sucks because they don't want to spend the day with their mom, but they remind themselves that they're doing it for their dad because it would make him happy. once the bucket is full they start to head back to the grave and nearly run into someone and almost spill the contents of the bucket on them and as reader is about to apologize they realize that the person is none other than gojo. he makes some smartass joke but reader is just like ?????? because wasn't he supposed to be on a mission? why is he here? he’s super casual in his answers as he takes the bucket from reader and asks them to lead the way but reader doesn't move cuz they're all confused.

“why did you come?” you ask. your mother is one thing; they were married at one point, loved each other at one point, but gojo…. he only met your father once and you doubt he even remembers that.

“your old man was important to you, right?” he answers, tilting his head. “it'd be pretty rude of me to not introduce myself as your boyfriend.”

“since when have you ever cared about propriety?”

“why, i’ve—”

“don't even try to lie about it.”

gojo merely laughs. “okay, okay maybe you got me there…”

reader ends up showing gojo the way and when they get back to the grave infinite loop mama is there and she looks super happy to see gojo, happy he showed up after all. reader is surprised to see their mom actually made quick work of the weeds and starts lather up a towel to wash the grave but as soon as it's saturated with water gojo takes the towel from them and starts to wash the grave. reader protests but ofc he ignores them and so they reach for another towel and this time infinite loop mama takes it from them and says she'll do it.

from then on both gojo and infinite loop mama refuse to let reader help with anything and it's all very weird to them because it almost seems like gojo and infinite loop mama are competing to see who can do a better job of sprucing up the grave. so reader just stands there going ?????? while gojo and their mother scrub at the grave stone. the two of them might just take pot shots at one another because they are indeed trying to see who can curry more favor with infinite loop reader lmaoo.

when it's all nice and clean both gojo and infinite loop mama are puffing out their chests wanting praise and reader is just like ‘uhhhh great job.’ which prompts whining from both, wanting more specific praise and for reader to say who did better but reader tried to dodge and say they should light some incense and just as infinite loop mama is about to say something some little maid comes running up saying that it's time for infinite loop mama to come home and she's all huffy about it but tells gojo and reader that they should come visit some time before being ushered away.

reader is super relieved once she's gone and mentions that they didn't expect her to show up either. gojo wonders if maybe they both had the same idea or something (show that they are dependable figures in infinite loop reader’s life but gojo wouldn't tell them that). idk LMAO. but they light the incense and reader tells the grave that they're doing well and their dad doesn't need to worry and then gojo interjects saying it's because he's here for reader and then he actually says some heartfelt stuff about how he knows that reader is very independent and can take care of themselves but he still wants to do everything he can to support them so that he can be not only a good friend but a good boyfriend. reader is a little flabbergasted because it feels weird for gojo to be so straightforward with… anything. when he's done talking he gives reader a little wink, maybe asks if they've fallen in love again and they're just…. Idk a little embarrassed.

so after this gojo asks if reader is heading back to Tokyo right away but reader tells him they're staying overnight because they thought they were going to basically be tending to their dad’s grave all day and gojo asks where they're staying and reader is just like ‘oh I was just gonna stay in a capsule hotel' and gojo is like ‘lol no’ and drags them back to his hotel room even tho reader insists there's nothing wrong with a capsule hotel and gojo is just like ‘we can't share a bed at a capsule hotel!’

at the hotel reader and gojo end up having a little heart to heart when reader asks if he was serious about what he said and he's just like ‘ofc I was!!! why would you think I wasn't???’ and at that point reader apologizes and says that maybe they just weren't taking gojo and his feelings seriously and that even tho gojo said he wants to be a good bf they haven't been a good partner for him and they apologize again and gojo is pretty chill with it ig and is like ‘just do what you can, just meet me part way and i’ll fill the gap’

or something like that. I think I veered really far…….

but at any rate after that they make out. maybe they bang. I don't think I want them to fuck yet tho. LMAO.

[black-is-iconic]

Daughter of the damned

"Poor little girl, biting off more than you can chew has cost you greatly today hasn't it?"

You cooed in a sickly sweet tone as you finished absorbing the more annoying kamado sibling [E/C] eyes darting to the next who was barely picking himself off the ground, "oh you're still alive?"

You tutted in dismay, "poor thing," you muttered flicking your luscious [H/C] hair over your shoulder dramatically and sauntering closer, "why don't I fix that" you sneered as one of your flesh whips protrudes from your shoulder slashing at nothing in particular only the air for dramatic effect.

The boy's feeble fingers gripped the hilt of his nichirn blade, he huffed and wheezed like a dying animal fighting just to get his arms up. Your tongue flickers between your fangs licking away the stray specks of blood from his sister.

Your teeth stained crimson with her life force. A low chuckle bubbles inside your throat, his brows are are set in a deep grimace as blood fills his sclera as his eyes glaze over with an almost murderous look that sends shivers down your spine.

"So you're the sun breather that's got my fathers feathers all ruffled?" You ask with a snort, "color me unimpressed, I was expecting" you falter looking him up and down "a little something more?"

The last Kamado ignored your jest "enough talk you sicken me you smell horrible and you'll pay for killing Nezuko" He shouted dashing towards you with his blade tightly grasped and tears spilling down his cheeks, you sighed slapping him to the side effortlessly and into a tree "isn't this fun?"

You breath hugging yourself as you lash at him with your whips, try as he might you tossed him around like a rag doll throwing him into tree after tree, branch to branch, and then into the water.

He tried to swim to the surface but your wrapped your tendrils around his shoulders forcing him deeper into the water, a flurry of bubbles rose to the surface as he kicked and screamed filling you with a sense of pure amusement Before you turned to glare at Gyutaro who was picking up his sickles.

"You're lucky I showed up when I did… as Kizuki you should be ashamed of yourself for losing to this riffraf,f" you said looking at the water that had mostly stopped bubbling, Gyutaro glared back at you scratching his chin and neck vigorously

"cut me some slack that annoying little prick had a hahsira in tow" Gyutaro hissed through clenched teeth while holding Daki's head on her neck so she could fix herself you rolled your eyes at his lame excuse.

You contemplated killing him but hesitated sense he was one you're only friends, "you mean this hashira?"

You Asked hosting up the severed head of the sound hashira still leaking blood before you tossed it into the pile with his headless body and the sliced up hunk of meat that was the woman he was trying so desperately to protect, you examined the battlefield the boarish slayer staggering to his feet.

Standing protectively over the sleepy one whose head you nearly bashed in if it wasn't for the pesky sun breathe- "Oow" you hiss turning towards the water as the sun breather burst from the water charging at you like a mad bull, you simply laughed at him.

Quite literally dancing around him as he swiped at you in a aimless frenzy, you twirl out of his way gracefully "you know you won't hit me while you're all angry and shit right?"

You laughed elegantly ducking under one of his attacks and then kicked your foot straight up into his chin before bringing it in a swift arc knocking him off his feet once again, as he fell he dropped his nichirn blade but you tossed it back at him "come now, pick it up….I'm having fun"

you hummed tauntingly, the Kamado jumped to his feet scrambling for his nichirn blade he then went to lunge at you but hesitated. He instead took a deep breath and steadied himself "that's right" you said licking the blood from your wrist and dropping into a fighting stance "good boy".

You hummed watching his muscles tense preparing to swing. He leapt for you once again. "Too slow" you corrected ducking under his blade and striking him in the ribs with your elbow he turned to strike at you again but you caught him by his arm "predictable" you said with a sigh kicking his elbow and smiling as his arm snapped like a twig.

He screamed dropping his nichirn blade and you rolled your eyes tossing him like a doll, "you really gotta stop dropping this" you tutted tossing the blade between his legs, your sense of smell picked up on another person approaching quickly and you smiled but then the sun began to rise.

"Ugh," you groaned turning to Daki with Gyutaro no where in sight (probably already fused again) "let's go Daki I'll let you tell my father you killed the hashira and the other two nimrods but next time i expect better" you mused softly Daki simply nodded and with a pluck of a biwa you were greeted by the warm and well let ever expanding halls. You hesitantly made your way to your fathers study kicking open the door, "hello father" your greeted Muzan who sat in his chair scribbling away at his notebook "hi" he responded dryly.

You took a deep breath inching closer "so i killed a hashira today" you boasted running your fingers through his bookcase Muzan simply licked his finger and flipped the page in his notepad.

Taking a test tube full of strange crimson liquid and giving it a shake, "that's nice sweetie" he responded nonchalantly setting aside his writing pen to pick up a book. "I also ate a Kamado" which seemed to give him pause. His maroon eyes shifted to you, "which one?" He asked and you coughed into your fist, "t-the female one, I-I was going to kill the other one but the su-" you tried to explain but he already lost interest.

Walking past you, "I suppose that's more than my upper moons have donewell-donee sweeite" he said giving your head a stiff pat before vanishing with the pluck of biwa. Leaving you alone.....again

[bittersweetarts]

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 13)

Aemond Targaryen x You –  Chapter 1

Word count: 3633 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Graphic content, misogyny

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 13: Bound By Blood

Following the Oath Ceremony, most of the lords and ladies chose to leave immediately, having their own people and lands to govern. Hence, you were stood at the Red Keep’s entry, along with the Targaryens, and the King’s small council, who had to bid their guests farewells, as per custom. Though it hurt when your brother Tommen did not even look at you after thanking King Aegon, you saved face and maintained your smile.

Given that you were mostly acquainted with the ladies, they were the only ones who spoke with you. Lady Johanna Lannister, ever so wily, insisted upon her departure that you must visit Lannisport and Casterly Rock soon, if only to see the Sunset Sea, and you warmly welcomed the invitation, enthusiastic about being near beautiful waters. Oddly though, other women, with whom you scarcely had any conversation with before, if at all, also insisted upon your visit to their homelands. Ever courteous, you politely thanked their offers, but felt their approach queer.

As you spoke with these ladies, the one-eyed Prince glared at the women with a tight jaw, understanding all too well their duplicitous intentions, which you were naïve to. King Aegon and Prince Daeron, on the other hand, found this to be humorous, and did not attempt to conceal their amusement, bickering amongst themselves before the King loudly addressed you.

“I have to say, my Lady, you must visit Lannisport. Their spiced honey wine is divine; really, we should all make a trip of it.” King Aegon jested when Lady Lannister and her party left the Keep, and you feel your face flush and your stare drop.

The King was stood at a considerable distance away from you, since you stood by his children and wife, as per your station. You felt embarrassed for having had so much to drink the previous night; evidently it was obvious to all, and you are about to mutely agree with the King, until Prince Aemond, who stood next to his brother, interrupts.

“Brother, if spiced wine is all you care about, why bother with the journey, when it could simply be brought here.”

Before the King could respond though, the Lord of Winterfell enters the courtyard, and as he did, all fell silent. The large man rigidly approached all of you, dressed heavy and dark, in tow with his companions and horses. The air was tense as the Northman approached King Aegon first, sternly thanking him for his hospitality, his tone devoid of emotion.

“You are always welcome here, Lord Stark. Court has been ever so lively with your presence, and your absence will be noticed.” King Aegon jovially spoke, grasping hold of Lord Cregan’s hand, awkward shaking it before letting go.

Glancing at the one-eyed Prince, who glared at the Northman, Lord Cregan chose to ignore him, as well as the rest of the King’s small council present, and walked towards the women. Approaching the Queens, he respectfully thanked them as well, before turning to look at you, catching you off guard.

“May I speak to your lady, Queen Helaena.” As Lord Cregan courteously asks, and your eyes jump to Aemond, who you see gaping at the two of you wide-eyed, nostrils flaring. Before Helaena manages to respond, Aegon interrupts, proclaiming loudly.

“Please do, Lord Stark!”

If you felt embarrassed by the King’s earlier comment, now you felt completely ashamed, with all eyes on you, completely under scrutiny. Up until now, no Lord had spoken to you, and of course, it was only Lord Cregan that dared, and loudly so.

“My Lady, thank you for your hospitality. Your sister’s words are true, and you have been just as kind and genteel as she has said.” You sincerely smile at the mention of Lauryn, and bow, which seemed to please Lord Cregan, who smiled back, frowning no more.

“I am sure you have been extended invitations to many more lavish seats, but please do visit the Winterfell. You would be warmly welcomed, my Lady, and have a place there should you need it.”

“She has no need.”

You slightly jump at the proximity of the voice, having not realised that Aemond approached to the two of you. Though everyone present was speaking to other guests who have approached them, it was obvious that your shared conversation with Lord Cregan, and the Prince now, was what everyone paid attention to. Looking at the one-eyed Prince, his hands are clasped behind him, and you see a hollow smile, which drops as Lord Cregan ignores him, still facing you.

“My Lady, tell me truthfully.” You cock your head in confusion, and your smile lessens.

“Are you happy here, with him?”

“Yes, Lord Stark. I am.” You answer immediately, and truthfully. You have been happy here for some time now, you believe. It comes in waves, and sometimes being apart from your family hurts, but you were happy. In a way, you have gained another family, you realise.

Glancing back at Aemond, you see a hand settled on his sword, jaws clenched tightly. You knew that he only restrained himself because of all of those around, and felt thankful for their presence. Taking a step forward, to stand in front of the Prince, you look up to Lord Cregan, and address him once more.

“Thank you for your offer, Lord Stark. It is appreciated, and I would be honoured to see the resilient beauty of the North someday.” You speak softly, before bowing and wishing him a safe journey.

The Northman watched you and the Prince carefully, before reluctantly getting on his horse and leaving with his companions, and as he did, you felt a sadness wash over you. You do not know why, for you had only just met him, but the compassion he showed you was uncommon, and perhaps, you developed a kindred liking towards him.

As you watched the Lord of Winterfell leave, Aemond Targaryen watched you, attempting to summon all his self-restraint. He grasped that he has put you in peril by displaying his attachment towards you, but now that all knew, it infuriated him that some still felt bold enough to approach you, in front of him, no less. But he kept his composure, mostly, and was thrilled when the Lord of Winterfell had left. Considering the distance between King’s Landing and the North involved a months-long journey, the one-eyed Prince was sure that the Stark cunt would not return, and that his chapter in your lives has ended.

Though arduous, the preparations for the wedding did not take long, and this was solely due to your only wish for the ceremony.

“A simple affair with only those we care for, present. That is all that I ask, Aemond.” You whisper to the one-eyed Prince one night, while resting on his chest. Aemond Targaryen had started staying in your chambers again following the oath ceremony, with the understanding that nights in your quarters were numbered now. Unenthusiastically, your Prince agreed to your request, unable to refuse you yet again.

“Okay.”

You were involved with the planning, and as was the Prince and the women in his family. The difficulty was in incorporating the many differing customs; Queen Alicent insisted upon a traditional Westerosi ceremony, at a Sept with a Septon present, and to her relief, this came with no protest. However, when Aemond asked for the two of you to partake in a blood oath, in accordance with Valyrian tradition, you were apprehensive, as such oaths were frowned upon by the Faith; but you accept it, as Aemond is Valyrian and it would be cruel to deny him of this, after he has given up so much.

But when Queen Helaena requested that a lamb be present at the ceremony, you felt incredibly uncomfortable, reminding you of Aemond’s old pet name for you.

“I do not believe animals are permitted into septs, dear sister.” The one-eyed Prince tried to reason with Helaena, but she would hear none of it.

“You must, a lamb must be there.” Helaena reasoned, but it made sense. On some odd days, when Helaena was less lucid, she would begin chanting rhymes, repetitively. “A lamb for an offspring’s lifespan.” This rhyme in particular was silly, but you and Aemond cared for Helaena, and her wishes, and so, it was ensured that a lamb would be present in the ceremony, stood by the entryway, its string held by Ser Landor.

What was most difficult though, was knowing that your family would not be present. For all of your letters that you sent, inviting their attendance, you got no response, which broke your heart. You understood that your family could not come, as it jeopardised your Houses’s standing with House Baratheon, but it hurt nonetheless.

“It will pass, my love. The pain will pass.”

Aemond would mumble to you in between stolen kisses in hidden passages during the day. And you would look up at him and silently nod, but the both of you knew that you did not believe this.

Less than a few weeks before a week before the ceremony, you found yourself alone at night, confused. This was a first night in many moons that you were alone, and slept poorly throughout the night. The next morning at breakfast, when the one-eyed Prince strode into the dining room, you waited for the opportunity to discretely ask him where he had been the previous night.

“Flying.” Prince Aemond would cryptically respond, before beginning conversation with his brothers, further confusing you.

Time passed swiftly, and the day of your wedding arrived.

You were calm on the morning of the ceremony, despite having slept alone the night before, again. For many consecutive nights, the Prince had chosen to stay in his own chambers, and though you wondered why, you rationalised to yourself that this is how it should have been from the beginning, and that you would lay together once you were man and wife. You also had too much pride to ask him again where he was, or to join you in your chambers.

But your mind still wavered towards distasteful doubts. Perhaps Aemond tired of you. Perhaps he realised how unworthy you were, and the ceremony would be called off. Perhaps he was spending his nights in Flea Bottom, sharing a bed with someone from a brothel. Though once you would not have minded, now you did not feel good thinking about it, and tried to bury your doubts.

Getting ready for the ceremony was without issue, as servants helped you prepare, and Queen Helaena kept you company, entertaining you as a young servant girl from Braavos began braiding your long hair into an intricate styling.

“Dreamfyre has promise of laying eggs.” Helaena softly spoke, as she approached you as you stood in front of the mirror, observing yourself and the styling of your hair. The two of you were alone in the room now, now that you were ready, and you smile at her as she slowly places a hand on your arm.

“When she does, your firstborn will have one.”

“That would be an honour, my Queen.” You say earnestly, still smiling.

“Sister.” Helaena corrects you, the hand on your arm now taking hold of your hand. Helaena was the closest person you had for a friend, and you loved her dearly, as though she were a sibling. Really, you were elated that she felt similarly.

“Sister.” You affirm.

Looking back at yourself, you observed your appearance. This is perhaps the only time in your life that you could be considered beautiful. With your hair up in braids and jewels, your dress was a fitted ivory gown, which tastefully exposed your neck and chest area, and seamlessly flowed towards the ground. It was Queen Alicent that helped guide you with the choice of your dress for the wedding, and upon her entrance to the room, it was as though she had never seen it before.

“My child, you are a vision of radiance and beauty.” She walks up to you as you bow before her, taking hold of your hands and pulling you into a hug. As she held you, you attempted to suppress tears that threatened to escape, knowing that the paint on your face would be ruined. Thanking the Queen Alicent, you pull away, and Helaena speaks.

“Mother, has he come?”

“Has who? Prince Aemond?” Your brows furrow in worried confusion. He would not be here, as he should be the Sept’s hall currently, which makes you wonder whether Aemond had doubts about the ceremony, and if he had not come at all – is that why you have seen little of him recently?

Before anyone can answer though, there is a knock at the door, and Queen Alicent instructs for the door to be opened. As you turn around to face the entryway, you see a familiar face saunter into the room, grinning.

“Steffon!” You cry out, overjoyed. You practically sprint in your gown to him, almost tripping, and throw your arms around him, and as does he, though with difficulty, as he holds a heavy cloak.

“Sister, you look beautiful, you make a beautiful bride!” Your elder brother exclaims, pulling away from you to see you properly, still holding your hand.

As happy as you are, you are still astounded to see him here, given that he should be in the Stormlands, far from the wedding, and ask him as such.

“But then, who would give you away?” He responds jovially, raising the cloak he held, which you realised was in your House’s colours, dark purple and gray. Looking at him, your eyes begin to water, and you feel a gently hand press below your eye.

“Do not cry, sweet child. Let us not let Aemond see you like this, today is a joyous day.” Pressing your lips together, you take a deep breath and nod at Queen Alicent in approval, before turning to Steffon again.

“Have mother and father come?”

Steffon looks at you sadly, portly shaking his head. You did not expect Tommen to be here, but perhaps your other brothers and sisters. “Lauryn? Dayron? The girls?” You ask hopefully. Perhaps Lauryn would be able to, since she was part of House Stark now. Unfortunately, Steffon shook his head, and though this saddened you, you maintained your smile.

“I am happy you are here, brother. Thank you.” You say staidly, hugging him once more. Against your ear, Steffon speaks again.

“You can thank your Prince. He is the one who arranged it with Lord Baratheon.” You pull away, confused, and Steffon continues.

“Prince Aemond has travelled our home and Storm’s End continuously for the past few weeks, trying to come to an agreement with Lord Borros, but you know how proud that man is. I am only here because Prince Aemond insisted that a man from our family must be present, in accordance with the word of the Seven.”

In your faith, it is expected that the bride’s father or closest male kin be present at the ceremony. Custom asks that the bride wears a maiden cloak in her house’s colours, and at the ceremony, it is removed by the male figure, replaced by a cloak of her husband’s own house colors. Seeing as you had no one from your House attending, Lord Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand and Aemond’s grandsire, was going to fulfil this duty, though it made little sense since he was not your kin, nor have you ever really spoken to him.

Knowing that Aemond had gone out of his way, flying with Vaghar to Storm’s End numerous, just to make you happy, makes you begin crying.

“Oh no, I told you not to cry! By the Seven, Lord Steffon, please fetch a servant, we must get her cleaned up! The ceremony is starting soon!” The Queen Mother anxiously fretted, pulling out a napkin to wipe your face. As she does, you begin laughing out of joy, and Helaena joins you, the sound of your girlish giggles echoing across the room.

As promised, the ceremony was small, with only the Targaryens and some members of the King’s small council present, as well as your beloved brother, Steffon.

The Great Sept of Baelor had been cleared for the afternoon, and walking in the massive main hall of the Sept was daunting, especially in the silence, the only sound coming from Helaena’s lamb, which grew restless. You jump when you hear a howling whistle, which you realise came from the King, who did so in admiration of your appearance. You were grateful yet again to your betrothed, because if Steffon were not here, supporting you, you would have collapsed from the judgment and scrutiny.

You had not seen Aemond since the previous day, and felt nervous approaching him. As you did, you felt yourself shake, worried that your appearance would not meet his expectations. But as you and Steffon approached closer, all your insecurities disappeared as you gained full sight of him.

If you had considered him handsome before, you were sorely mistaken. Stood alone in front of Septon Eustace, the one-eyed Prince was dressed in a loose ivory robe, with a deep red cloth tied around his waist. His robes were embroidered with glistening red dragons, similar to that of the Targaryen coat of arms, and made his countenance even more alluring. The one-eyed Prince was dressed in colours he never wore, and the sight of him obstructed your breath; you were taken away by his beauty. The only way you could breathe again was by moving your gaze to the ground, avoiding the sight of him, as well as the stares of the King and small council, whose presence still unnerved you.

As Steffon and you finally walked up to the Prince, you felt the cloak around you lift, and you look up, meeting Aemond’s violet eye and sapphire gemstone, which you were glad he chose to not conceal, for it was one of your favourite features of his. In contrast to your nervous disposition, the Prince is brilliantly grinning at you, his smile so bright it was as though he had eaten stars. A smile so bright, you could not help returning it.

“I am the most blessed man alive.” Aemond speaks lowly to you, after placing over your shoulders a black cloak, embroidered in crimson dragons which matched his robes.

“It is I that is blessed.” You say quietly, so that only he could hear. In response, Aemond shakes his head in disagreement, still grinning, and takes a step closer, gently grasping your chin, before whispering.

"Sīkudi nopāzmi". You knew what that meant, having read it in a translation book recently. I love you. Smiling back, you repeat after him, albeit in a flawed manner, not that it mattered to the Targaryen Prince, who only felt his heart further swell, in pride and affection.

As you stare up at him, you feel at peace, as if you were alone in the Sept, only with him. Staring at him, nothing and no one else mattered, and the entire world went silent. The two of you had spoken about what would be involved in the blood ritual, and Aemond had done his upmost to ensure that you had no worries about what it involved.

Anything that the Sept was saying was not heard by you as you stared at Aemond, your eyes never wavering, and as he brought out the dragonglass, you felt no worry. You anticipate pain when he presses the dark blade against your lower lip, but you flinch merely at the mild stinging sensation, and the smile on your face remains. And as his thumb touches the cut on your lip, you feel no discomfort, and only more at peace as he gently smeared the blood against your forehead, which felt warm against your skin.

When Aemond places the dark blade against your hand, you hesitantly bring it up to his face, worried that you would hurt him. But as you shallowly cut his lower lip, he does not flinch as you did, and his glowing eye gives you the reassurance to continue.

After smearing his blood on the top of his face, you take the blade and slice the palm of your hand, quickly to not lose nerve. This time, you felt a sharp pain, but you ignore it, and watch as Aemond takes back the dragonglass blade to do the same, before raising his cut hand, which you clasp tightly with your own. You do not realise that the Septon had stepped closer to the two of you, holding a silver goblet below your hands as your mixed blood dripped into it, until he raises it in front of the two of you.

Septon Eustace hands you the goblet first, and you fail to conceal your grimace when looking at its contents, which causes the one-eyed Prince to chuckle and squeeze your cut hand, which he still held. His little laugh brings back your buoyancy, and you bring the goblet to your lips, swallowing a mouthful, before passing it to Aemond, who does the same, before passing the goblet to Prince Daeron, who had approached the two of you. As the young Prince takes it, the two of you face to the Septon, and you feel your nerves return; you are reminded that you two are not alone here.

As Septon Eustace finishes speaking, uniting the two of you with somber prayers and a cloth loosely tied around your cut hands. As the Septon finishes speaking, Aemond turns back to face you, and speaks solemnly, before leaning down and pressing his wet lips onto yours, warm and metallic in taste.

“… With this kiss I pledge my love."

Author’s Note: As always, I hope that you enjoyed! Also, the last sentence is in accordance with Westerosi wedding custom, which is why I included it 

– Chapter 14

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