#anyway i might be putting too much effort into this but oh well

[blue-thief]

i have to reference a shit ton of chapters to answer this one ask and i'm kinda shocked how good i am at estimating where i need to go

[unproduciblesmackdown]

pinning to the workshop corkboard: you've heard of winston "i'm cassandra" billions clairvoyance concepts for fun & profit, hear also of winston billions sphinx concepts (you must be This understanding of what he means to proceed)

[kaisollisto]

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

But Daddy I Love Him - Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: Oh hi! First of all, thanks for all the love on my last Jace fic. I'm sorry it's taken so long to post my next, I've had a crazy couple of weeks, but I wanted to make to get something out before this week's episode. I can't believe there's just 3 eps left of the season! I am hoping to get my Jace chapter fic out before then, so I have put most of my focus there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

TS Prompt #8: But Daddy I Love Him

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader fall in love, much to the displeasure of the reader's father.

Warnings: smut

Jacaerys Velaryon is beautiful.

It is tourney day in King's Landing, and your eyes are stuck to him as he makes his way out into the arena. Around you, there are scattered conversations whispered not low enough, about how the prince has matured in the last year, how handsome he has become.

He has not yet put his helmet on. This leaves his hair out, curls whipping around him in the gentle breeze. He flicks his hair back and there is a chorus of awes around you. You smirk at the reaction.

"The arrogance," your father, Jason Lannister, mutters from your side. You barely spare him a glance, not wanting to remove your eyes from Jacaerys.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"He's showing off," your father says, disgust in his voice.

"It is a tourney," you say, "Isn't that the point?" He doesn't respond, just continues to monitor the arena space.

Jacaerys mounts his horse and with bated breath, you watch as he accepts the lance from the Master of Revels. His opponent is a knight you haven't met yet, a Ser Estermont. He has done well in the tourney so far, though, which makes you nervous.

As both men prepare to make their joust, you lean forward in your seat, needing to see as closely as possible, what is about to happen.

Unlike the matches before, this one is over in one round. Jacaerys aims his lance to the perfect angle, and expertly knocks over the knight from Greenstone.

Applause erupts from the viewing gallery, and you nearly stand up and cheer, you are so relieved about his win. Jacaerys rides around the stands and stops in front of the gallery you sit in. He lifts off his helmet and smiles in a way that makes your heart race.

"Lady Y/N," he says, and you think you hear discontented sighs from behind you. "Might I request your favor, that I may excel through the rest of this tournament?" You smile and reach for your wreath of flowers. For one moment, your father grips your wrist, as if he means to keep you from going. But it does not last long. No matter what your father may think of Jacaerys, he is still the prince, and future heir to the the throne. To deny him would mean scandal.

As you approach the railing, you try to fight off the grin at seeing him. Jacaerys extends his lance so that you may drop the wreath onto it easily.

"Thank you, My Lady," he says, eyes locked onto yours.

"Good luck, My Prince."

He rides off into the arena, garnering more applause from the stands, as you return to your seat. There are jealous eyes upon you. Even your father looks angry. But you pay them no mind. There will be more rounds, and Jacaerys is sure to succeed time and again, which will have him request the favor of more ladies.

Smiling as you sit down, you think of the girls who will bestow upon him their own wreaths. You might even feel bad for them, for surely, they will assume that his attention means he might court them. But you know that his affections lie only with you.

To you, the prince was just Jace, and you had loved him since you were a girl. Three months ago, he had declared his love for you, too, and ever since, the two of you had been hiding your love, waiting for the right moment to proclaim your intentions.

"He did quite well," you say to your father, making another effort to talk up Jacaerys to him.

"Ser Estermont was an easy opponent," your father says, disinterest and dismissal reflected in his tone.

Once the tournament is over, Jace makes his way into the castle. Several lords and ladies stop him on his way, congratulating him on his victory. He thanks them in passing, his thoughts only on getting into the castle, where he knows he will find you.

There is a feast to be held after the tournament, and while most everyone heads that way, he dismisses himself, saying he wishes to change before then.

When he turns down the hallway towards his quarters, the area is empty. The guards that usually stand at his door were at the tourney and are now sitting down for the feast.

You come around the other end of the hallway, your red dress immediately drawing his eye. You glance around cautiously before breaking into a run, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, laughing as his arms settle around you.

"Oh," you say on a breath, pulling back just enough to face him, "You have no idea how worried I was for you."

"Have you so little faith?" he asks with a smile.

"I believed in you," you say, hand to his chest, "But belief doesn't change the fear that comes at watching a lord twice your size sprint at you with a lance."

"I'm alright," he says, his hands running gently along your back. You smile at him and lean in to kiss his lips softly. Jace hums contentedly into the kiss, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you into a corner and deepens the kiss.

Together, you stay locked there for a long moment, relishing the quiet that is so hard to find. Jace's hands travel through your hair and over your body, greedy to get his fill of you while he has you.

"I should get to the feast," you say softly when you break for air, your forehead pressed to his.

"Stay with me," he says, entwining his hand with yours.

"My father will be looking for me," you say. Jace's smile drops. "I'm trying," you say, "To sway him to our favor."

"I know you are."

"Your victory today should help with that," you say, giving him a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "I'll see you at the feast."

"Yes, My Prince."

By the next week, your father's attitude still hasn't changed. At the feast, you tried to talk about the prince, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. Jace had even come over to greet your family. Your father was diplomatic and only spoke to the prince for as long as he had to.

"I don't get why he won't give his blessing," you say, looking down at Jace. His head is in your lap, his eyes closed. He is so peaceful at this moment, you hate to bring this up again, but there seem to be fewer and fewer times for the two of you to be together. Even now, you are supposed to be with other ladies of the court, practicing your needlework. Instead, you snuck off to the Godswood to be with Jace amongst the blossoming trees.

"I'd be queen one day," you continue. "What more could he want for me?" Jace opens his eyes and looks at you with a frown.

"It's because of the rumors about me," he says lowly. You want to say he's wrong, but you wouldn't even believe yourself. The rumors of Jace's parentage had only grown in the last few years. It seemed that as he became older, and King Viserys grew sicker, the accusations only multiplied.

"I don't care about that, though," you say brushing your fingers through his hair.

"You should," he says, taking your hand in his own. "There are some who would see my brothers and I slain, rather than see us inherit our birthright."

"All the great houses swore allegiance to your mother," you say, squeezing his hand. "And you are her trueborn son. To do so would be--"

"Treason," he says, "But there are still those who would try it."

"My father wouldn't," you say. "As stubborn as he is, he is loyal to King Viserys, and by extension, your mother." Jace sits up, a serious expression on his face.

"Tensions are high amongst my family," he says, taking your hands in his. "In the entire kingdom, really. I am worried what may happen. Your father is smart, and that is why he must worry, too."

"You all fear something that may never come to pass," you say, "Are we to be separated in the name of what ifs?"

"We are to be separated until we can convince your father that I can keep you safe."

"And how do we do that?" you ask. Jace lays his head back on your lap.

"I don't know," he says.

The room is dark when you enter your father's quarters that night. He sent word to your lady's maid to see him immediately, but she couldn't find you until now, because you and Jace had been intwined in the Godswood all afternoon.

"Lady Clegane said she did not see you today," your father says right away, before you can even greet him. "Were you not to be under her tutelage this afternoon?"

"I don't need to study my needlepoint, Father," you say, stopping in front of him. "No man alive cares how well his wife can stitch."

"You were with the prince, weren't you?" he asks, standing. He towers over you, but you hold your head high, meeting his gaze.

"Why don't you like him?" you ask. He merely shakes his head.

"It is not a daughter's job to pick her husband," he says, "That duty lies with her father."

"And who would you have me marry instead? A lesser lord of the Westerlands? Someone directly under your control?"

"If that is what I demanded, yes," he says, bracing your arms. "I raised you to obey me, Y/N."

"No, you raised me to cage me," you say, tugging from his grip. "I would be Jacaery's queen! There isn't a more advantageous match out there for me. Yet you refuse to even hear us out, because it is not of your doing!" His face reddens, a telltale sign of his rage. You have never raised your voice to him before, and are now slightly scared of what he may do.

"I think it's time you return to Casterly Rock," he says lowly.

"What?" you ask, momentarily stunned.

"Your time in King's Landing is over," he says firmly. "You have become disobedient and careless."

"Father--"

"Do you think I am the only one who sees it, Y/N?" he asks, taking your hands in his desperately. His eyes are wide and pleading. "Do you think no one saw the two of you in the Godswood today? That no one can see the secret looks you exchange? That family is shameless, and I will have you take no part in it.

"I will not allow your reputation to be ruined by the prince's," he says. Tears begin to form at the finality of his words.

"When do I leave?" you ask, setting your jaw as you fight off the tears.

"I'll escort you the day after tomorrow, so you can make your goodbyes," he says. He can't meet your eyes.

"Very well."

Jace is speechless when you tell him. He found you sitting outside of his chambers the next night, tears streaming down your face. He invited you inside, a hurtle the two of you had yet to pass until then, and held you close while you told him your fate.

"We'll only have tonight," you say quietly.

"Maybe it's for the better."

"How can it be when it separates us?" you ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"Just for now," he says, brushing your hair back gingerly. "When things relax, we can try to convince him again."

"How long will that be?" you ask, "He'll have me married off as soon as possible, I know." Jace frowns down at you, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, that he knows he can't find.

"I won't stop fighting for you, Y/N," he says. "I promise."

"I won't either."

"We'll find a way," he says. You nod your head, a new wave of tears incoming, and relax into his chest. He holds you in his arms for a long time, his had tracing patterns along your back. The fire is nearly out in his hearth, and the room grows dark quickly.

"When did he say he wanted you back?"

"Fuck what he said," you say, looking at him intently. "I am not leaving your side tonight." With a hand to his cheek, you bring your lips together. The kiss is slow, a bit salty with the tears streaming down your face, but it is all he has ever wanted. He tries not to think about the fact that this might very well be the last time he ever gets to taste your lips, ever gets to hold you.

But it seems that your thoughts go there as well. Quickly, the kiss turns passionate. Your teeth scrape against his lip, like you can take him with you to Casterly Rock. His hands move down your body, to places he hasn't dared to explore yet. As one, the two of you move, so that he has you pinned to the couch, his body atop yours in a way he's only dreamed about before. You moan into his kiss as his body rocks into yours.

“Y/N,” he says breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from your kiss. Your lips are red, swollen from his touch. Your hair is spread out around you in a cascade of curls. It is torture to see you like this and not bring his body clashing into yours again.

“What?” you ask, your hand trailing down his chest, as if you need to touch him however you can.

“We should stop.”

“Why?”

“If anyone ever found out, you would be disgraced. Your father already doesn’t like me, I don’t want to give him any other reason to—“

“I’ll tell you something right now,” you say, “My good name is mine alone to disgrace. Being here with you now, doesn’t change a single thing about my honor.”

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, Jace," you whisper. You are barely able to finish the words before his mouth meets yours again, fiercer than before. He doesn't stay there too long. He needs to taste you everywhere, savor every moment he's got left with you.

His lips move across your face and down your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites down softly, the way your back arches your body into his. He sits the two of you up for just a moment, so that he can pull at the laces along your back.

When the top of your dress falls, he stares at your bare chest for a long moment. You smile at him, your skin flushed.

"You are so beautiful," he says. You grab hold of his face, kissing him again as you fall back onto the couch. Jace palms your breast, kneading gently as you whimper into his mouth. You pull at his clothes, too, until you rip his shirt off over his head.

Skin to skin now, Jace breaks from your lips to kiss down your chest. He lingers for a moment on your breasts, but his need to take you is growing too urgent. He moves down lower, tugging your dress down with him until you are fully exposed to him.

"Y/N," he says on a sigh, marveling at the sight of you.

"I love you."

"I love you," he says, dropping his lips to the folds at your center. The moan you let out is nearly enough to send him over, but he won't deny himself the opportunity to feel what it's like to be inside of you. He focuses on your pleasure, kissing the sensitive bud at the apex of your thigh, watching your face with rapt attention, seeing what action makes you cry out, which makes you thrust into him.

When you cry out his name, his watches proudly as your body clenches, waves of pleasure roll through you. Jace keeps up his actions for a few moments longer, tasting and savoring the moment as you come down.

When he sits up, he watches the rise and fall of your chest, the satisfied smile on your face. He kisses your lips passionately, treasuring the little sounds of happiness you make as he does.

He drops his trousers next, rubbing his cock against your slick folds. He presses into you slowly, barely able to keep his control, his need is so great. You gasp as you take him in, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He begins to rock into you, his movements gentle. As your sounds become more frequent, he picks up his pace, until the only sound he can hear is your cries of pleasure, and the collision of your two bodies.

He comes soon after that, his body collapsing on top of yours. For a long while, the two of you lay there, sweaty and happy, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

"Jace," you say on a breath, breaking the silence first.

"Yes, my love?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

"This cannot be the last time," you say, cupping his cheek.

"It won't be. We'll find a way, I swear."

It's early morning when you return to your chambers. Your father collects you an hour later, and although the look he gives you suggests that he knows where you were, thankfully, he doesn't say anything.

The journey to Casterly Rock is long, taking nearly three weeks, and the entire time, your thoughts are on Jace. You bring him up a few times with your father, but after the most recent, he stops looking at you, stops speaking altogether, and rides astride his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When the news of King Viserys's death breaks, you hear it from your lady's maid. You shoo her away when she tries to finish braiding your hair. You know you should feel sad - Viserys was a great king, and had been sick for a long time. The last time you saw him, he looked like a walking corpse, and you had to avert your gaze.

But his passing means that Rhaenyra will be crowned queen. She will return from Dragonstone, where she fled just a week after you left King's Landing, and Jace with her.

You run from your chambers and burst into your parents' quarters, and find them talking in hushed, urgent tones. Your mother turns at your arrival and the look on her face scares you. There is panic in her gaze, mixed with a sadness that seems to grow when she sees you.

"Y/N," she says softly.

"I just heard the news."

"Yes."

"I expect we'll be leaving for King's Landing soon?" you ask, looking to your father. "For Princess Rhaenyra's coronation?"

"My dear," your mother says, a hand out to call you to her side. "Maybe you should sit down."

"What is it?" you ask as she sits you down in front of their empty hearth.

"Rhaenyra is not going to be queen," your father says.

"What do you mean?"

"Aegon has been crowned."

"He usurped the throne?" you ask in shock. "Are we gathering our bannerman? Should we--"

"Y/N," your father says with a sigh, taking your hands as he sits across from you. "We won't be calling our bannerman. We are supporting King Aegon."

"You swore allegiance to Rhaenyra," you say icily, looking between your parents' faces.

"I can't explain it all to you, daughter. There is much you don't understand."

"Uncle Tyland?" you ask quietly. Certainly, your level-headed uncle would see reason, when your father could not.

"He sits upon Aegon's small council," your father says.

"How long has this been planned?" you ask, moving away from your parents. The room suddenly feels too suffocating. Watching them, waiting for their response, you catch a quick look between your parents.

"How long have you known about this, Father?" you ask, stepping closer to look him in the eye.

"Rhaenyra was never going to be queen," he says lowly. "Regardless of the parentage of her sons. Although, that certainly didn't help her cause." You pull back from him, a look of disgust on your face. "And Aegon will make a good king."

"What will happen to Rhaenyra? To her sons?" you ask, the second question coming out broken. He doesn't answer. You look to your mother, hoping for some words of support from her, but she shares the same sad look on her own face.

"You've known this for so long . . ." you say, thoughts racing, "That's why you wouldn't approve an engagement between Prince Jacaerys and I."

"Yes," he says, "And I won't feel sorry for it. He'll be killed, no doubt. I don't want the same fate for you."

"But Daddy," you cry, calling him by a name you haven't in years, feeling as helpless as if you were still that child, "I love him!"

"It's already done, Y/N," he says, pain in his eyes. You let out a strangled sound before sliding down the wall.

"I'm having his baby," you say through a sob.

"What?" your mother asks urgently, crouching at your side. "What do you mean?" But no words come to you. The tears are falling too fast, any words choked by hiccupping.

Eventually, they bring you to your room. They both asked more questions about the baby, but you don't answer them, you can't. You don't trust them.

Your father had known this fate would befall Rhaenyra, would befall her sons. He knew you loved Jace, and he still let it all happen.

The next morning, your mother comes into your room. Her eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. She brings you a cup of tea and kisses your forehead, before she says anything.

"Tell me about the baby," she says. "Are you certain?"

"No," you admit, bringing your knees to your chest. "But I haven't had my blood in a few weeks." Your mother nods and looks down sadly at her own drink.

"You'll need to drink moon tea," your mother says softly.

"I won't."

"Then you'll need to get married immediately, and claim the child as your new husband's."

"I won't do that either."

"Y/N," she begins with a sigh.

"You've already slammed the door on my whole world, I won't let you take this one last piece of him I have. If I am to have his child, I will keep it and I won't claim it as anyone else's."

"You'll be ruined," she says. "And if Aegon finds out that your child is Jacaerys's--"

"He won't. Nobody needs to know."

"Your father won't like this," she says gently. "You do not wish to make him angry."

"He's been angry. I've made my decision."

The next week, your cycle arrives, and you cry all day long.

"Sending another raven?" Rhaenyra asks, stepping out onto the cool balcony beside Jace. He gives her a tight lipped smile and nods. "Have you heard back from her?"

"Here and there," he says. He has been sending ravens to you for the past two weeks.

"I'm sorry your feelings fell into the middle of this mess."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mother," he says seriously. She gives him a sad smile, a palm to his cheek.

"Baela tells me you have a plan to get her out," she says. Jace looks at her with wide eyes. He hadn't technically asked her permission, and what he was doing would be dangerous for their position.

"I know I should have told you," he starts.

"Yes, you should have. I would like to help," she says. She laughs at the bewildered look on Jace's face. "Do you think I would let you suffer here, knowing she's there, probably suffering too? Tell me your plan, Jace."

So he does. He gives her the same instructions he just sent to you. She gives him her support, while offering a few suggestions. She leaves him on the balcony after, giving him space to think over his plan, and to try and quell the hope building up inside of him.

All he is waiting for is one word from you, and he will enact this plan.

A day later, a raven knocks at his window, waking him from sleep. He leaps up immediately to grab its message, and finds just one word, written in your handwriting.

Yes.

On the morning of your escape, you awake with a smile on your face. It has been weeks since you felt anything at all. Your lady's maid enters into the room to ready you for the day, and you greet her, "Good morning."

"Good morning, My Lady," she says, looking at you in bewilderment. You're not sure you've spoken to her since you arrived at Casterly Rock. "I trust you slept well, then?"

"The best yet," you say.

As she moves about the room, getting your clothing together, you make sure to pick out the dullest dress in your wardrobe. When she sits you down to do your hair, you have her tuck your tendrils into a woven braid. Everything for indiscretion, or this plan will not work out.

When you walk into the breakfast room, your parents are gathered around a table. You give them a kind smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, knowing that your plans for escape were all laid.

"Good morning," your mother says, an air of suspicion in her voice.

"Morning," you say, sitting down next to her. "Good morning, Father."

"You haven't forgotten about your commitment today, I hope?" your father asks.

"No, I remember I am meeting with Lord Lannys today," you say innocently. He studies you for a moment like he doesn't believe you, but then his expression changes, or he forces it to. He forces himself to believe that you have finally pulled out of your darkness.

"Perhaps I'll accompany you down there," he says, "It's been a while since I have checked in on Lannisport."

"No," you say quickly. "You said you'd let me go with just a few guards."

"So I did."

"I have so little freedom," you say, "Am I to be chaperoned every day of my life?" The look on your father's face is one of remembrance, that this is the behavior he expects from his daughter.

"You will stay close to your guards," he says firmly.

"Of course."

"Our world is not as safe as it once was."

"I know."

"Very well."

You thank him and your mother, and when you bid them farewell, it is bittersweet. You try to see them as the loving parents you had when you were younger, but now you only see the causes of your heartbreak, and know that you're making the right call.

"When will she be here?" Joffrey asks impatiently, for the third time.

"Soon, I think," Jace answers.

"Why has it taken so long?"

"You don't have to wait with me, Joff," he says with a look to the younger boy. "It takes a long time to get here from the Westerlands."

In his plan, Jace had wanted to assure that your route would not be easily followable. The plan was for you to go to Lannisport and get aboard a ship that would take you to Seaguard. From there, you would travel by horse to Gulltown, where the Arryns would assure you passage to Dragonstone.

Yesterday, he got word that you arrived to Gulltown safely. If all went well, you would be in Dragonstone anytime now.

But the waiting was agony. Many times, Jace thought about saddling Vermax and flying out to you, just to get one glimpse of you. He knew himself, though, and knew that if he saw you, even from the air, he wouldn't want to let you out of his sights. He needed to wait patiently.

He was as bad as Joffrey, though.

When he finally sees your ship on the horizon, his heart starts beating faster. He rushes from his balcony and makes his way through the castle. Joffrey tries to keep up, but Jace loses him somewhere along the steps leading down to the shore.

Jace gets to the pier just as the small boat does. He doesn't think he is breathing as you step off the boat. Your eyes are searching for his and when they find him, a smile breaks across your face. You run towards him and he does the same, meeting you in the middle of the pier.

The second you are in his arms, you break down into tears. You cling to every part of him, your hands needing to touch him, needing to know that he is well. He realizes he is doing the same, his hand tangled in your hair, the other on your back.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," you say, pulling back just enough to look him over. Before Jace can say anything, you kiss him quickly, but fiercely.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says, hugging you again. You laugh, squeezing him just as tight.

"You're probably exhausted," he says, taking your hand and leading you back towards the castle. "You've had a long journey."

"Just a month," you say with a shrug, making him laugh.

"Well, you deserve your rest. I'll bring you right to my room," he says, "But there's one thing you'll have to do first."

"What's that?" you ask, furrowing your brow.

"Speak to my mother."

Dragonstone castle is not that much different from King's Landing, but it's unfamiliar, and unwelcoming. At least, the men sitting around Rhaenyra are. As you stand before them, some of your courage starts to slip.

"I am relieved to see you here safely, Lady Y/N," Rhaenyra says with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. She stands and moves closer to you.

"I am sorry for having to do this, but seeing as your house has pledged their support to my brother, I have to ask where you allegiance lies," she says, stopping in front of you.

"With you, of course," you say immediately.

"You must know the risks, Y/N," she says, "You could very well be killed for supporting my claim and Jace's." For a moment, you glance back at your prince, and gather strength from his encouraging look.

"I'd burn my whole life down before I listen to another second of my father's scheming, and well before I bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen," you say.

"I love your son very much, I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, or yours, My Queen." Rhaenyra gives you a smile that is so much like her sons. She nods her head.

"Thank you, Y/N. Welcome to Dragonstone."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. Before you can even turn around, Jace's hand is in yours. He is looking down at you with a smile.

"Come on," he says, pulling on your hand gently. He leads you through the castle, up to his chambers, which will now be your own, he explains.

Once the doors close behind you, he is upon you, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, realizing that this is not a dream, or just a passing moment. You'll get to stay in his arms for the rest of your lives.

"I love you," you say when you break away. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"You're my lady, Y/N," he says, "And very soon I'll make you my princess. Of course I sent for you. I love you."

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body into his again as your lips connect again.

"You must be exhausted," he says breathlessly. "You'll want to sleep."

"All I want is right here."

[lovetei]

AaAaaaHHHHHH I loved your “Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call” post lol :P

Could you plssssss do it w the side characters? Especially barbatos I love him. He’s my bbg lol

Sure, I'm actually just waiting for someone to request it :P

--------------------------------------------------

Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call

Versions: Demon Brothers, Side Characters

Warnings: Slight yandere themes (Barbatos, Simeon)

Links: Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------

DIAVOLO

He doesn't actually like going around

Sure, it's mentioned a lot of times that he want to visit this or that

But only if you or the others are willing to come with him

Otherwise it's as boring as doing paperworks

He won't even come out to meet important personalities

They need to come to the castle themselves because there's no damn way Diavolo will actually use effort to meet people he's actually not too close to.

But when it's you?

Damn, you better bet the moment you told him "Hey, Diavolo... I'm kind of stuck in the plaza and the brothers are surely too busy to pick me up so can you send me a driver..?"

How dare you ask for a driver?

When he's literally right there?

The moment the words "I'm kind of stuck in the plaza-" He's already in his most luxurious car starting it to get his future spouse

Hell, he'll even bought a flower before getting to you

And you two will make a scene

And you two will surely make it to the news tomorrow

He'll arrive to the place in something quite formal yet still casual

With a bouquet of flowers in his hands

Like the perfect future husband he is

And open the door for you to get in

And if you're asking why Barbados didn't do anything against him...

Well, he's got a few mouse friends there for help.

Anyways, enjoy the ride

And sign the marriage papers

Please

BARBATOS

His power holds such an important role for Diavolo

He's such a powerful "demon"

It would actually be quite nice if you were just a little more closer to him

But if you are...

He's willing to use this oh so important power for you like it's just a mere toy

You fell on the stairs and someone saw it? Reversed.

You failed a test? Reversed.

You made the wrong decision? Reversed.

If Diavolo actually saw how much he's rambling the time lines just for you he'll go insane.

Hell, he'll pass out when he knows that Barbatos is letting you use his power like he's some hourglass!

But Barbatos knows you

And he likes you

He knows that someone like you won't actually take advantage of his power like that

And would always choose to do things without it

He knows that he's your last resort

And he loves it

He loves that fact that you treasure his power so much

That you treasure him so much...

His power might seem to be the most important tool for you among the other abilities the brothers and the others gave you

And so that basically puts him above the food chain

And he'll stay there

He'll make sure you will view him as important as right now

For all internity

SIMEON

He treasures himself and the people around him so much

But mostly himself

Because that's what father told them to do

He treat his body like the temple of god

He'll walk around the Devildom with pride in himself

Not too much but not too less

He knows his worth

So when he met you

Such a wonderful human

He will also teach you how to put pride in yourself

And always be proud on what you're doing

And then he'll start to get drawn to you

The body he oh so treasured now treated like a toy for you

He once valued naturality but maybe using this makeup you love so much will make him appear more attractive?

"Oh, Simeon? Did you use some foundation and mascara?! That looks so good on you!"

Yes, MC.

Just look at him

It all started with dressing up more for you

Then it escalated

The body he once didn't let anyone touch is now open for you

Just for you

Hold his hand

Grab his waist

And use his shoulders

Ha...

God won't punish him for a little touch now would he..?

SOLOMON

He's shady and he knows it

It's been so long and he's been around may too many people

He doesn't know who to trust anymore

And who to be honest with

He always have to keep himself alarmed and ready

Because that's what the past taught him to do

And that's what the present is telling him to do

Oh, another human?

How nice...

He just hope you don't end up like him

Overly conscious

You know what... He'll help you

He doesn't want a human to fall to the same hole he is right now

He thought that he'll be the one to guide you

He didn't know that you'll guide him...

And now he's willing to do anything for you

He's willing to follow you anywhere

He's willing to give you anything

He's willing to be your loyal servant

Just like Barbatos, he's willing to use everything he have just keep you by his side

Whether it be human, demon, angel connections, money or power

It can be anything and he'll give it you

To the human who showed him the light once again.

MEPHISTOPHELES

He's a private person

That's why he has a whole ass room reserved just for him in the academy

It can't help but have his blood boiling whenever one of the brothers barging into his room unannounced

The sense of nervousness won't leave him whenever Diavolo came to visit him

And the mixed feelings when the other exchange students decided to drop by

But when you enter his room

The light started to get a little darker

And the atmosphere turned into something heavier yet more comforting feeling

Have you drank anything you're not supposed to drink human?

What's this atmosphere around you human?

Did you... Cast a spell on him human?

To be honest

It'll be better for him to know that you cast a love spell on him

Than for him to consciously know that he's falling for you

Falling for the human others already love

But he can't help but say "Why don't you stay a little longer, MC?" Whenever you drop by.

"You can stay and do your assignments or whatever here. I have a vast collection of books you might need."

It might be selfish but why don't you stay a little longer?

Stay inside this private room with him

And only him.

RAPHAEL

He's known as a hitman

And his job down here is to probably spy on Simeon or Lucifer

But this weird human caught his eyes...

Maybe he should spy on you too?

Hmm... Why are you so different?

Are you the premium version of human?

But either way...

He saw how tired you were after each day ends

It looks like this place have sucked any living hope and energy out of you

So he took this as a problem and decided to come up with a solution

He decided to help you run around errands and even take some of your work loads

Gosh... You're so busy

So tiring

Sometimes you two will just find yourself in the dark and unused alley of the school

Sitting on the floor with each others head on your shoulder

You'd mutter "So tired..." And he will pat your head to help you at least have a few minutes of nap between work.

And before he knows it

It became a habit for the two of you

Instead of going to the dark alley you decided to take some nap in the cafeteria and even on empty classrooms

The Brothers will not found you two scattered all over the academy sleeping on each other

And before he even noticed

Whenever the slightest danger occurs he's already jumping in front of you and pushing you back as he shield your fragile body

THIRTEEN

She's such a trouble maker

And you're an expert in keeping trouble makers in line

And Thirteen will make sure she don't follow that line!

She keeps on pulling pranks

Traps here

Traps there

Gosh will she ever stop

Then one day you got so busy that your usual scolding for her didn't happened

Not even once

She felt empty without your nagging voice I guess?

But that doesn't matter!

At least, now, no one will stop her from doing what she loves!

No one...

Will stop her?

But who will scold her when she's about to do an extremely dangerous prank where she might get hurt?

Who will treat her wounds when she accidentally scratched her with one of her schemes?

It's been just a few days without your nagging voice and she's already at your doorstep in the middle of a night on a weekend asking

"Are you ignoring me?"

"Why aren't you talking to me anymore?"

"Are you tired of me now..?"

It feels like she'll start crying if she says anything more so you just denied everything and said that your schedule have been fully packed

Even saying that you're a new member of the council so you became more busy

She felt so embarrassed after that

But she started to treasure your relationship more

And maybe...

Waiting in the line is not that big of a deal if it's for you...

[moonstruckme]

hi maeee!! would you ever write reader x doctor! remus where they dated but then had a nasty break up? maybe reader shows up at the hospital and remus has to treat her and is all concerned and shocked? if not it’s okayyy i hope you’re well!! 🫶🫶

Thank you for your request sweetheart, hope you're well too!

cw: stitches, mention of blood

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 780 words

Remus opens your door with an apology on his lips. 

“Sorry about the wait, I had—” He freezes. 

You grin at him. It’s half grimace. “Hi.” 

“What…” Remus stares at you while his hand finds the wall as if on autopilot, picking up your chart. “You…you…” He skims it, but it feels like only half of his brain is working. “You hit your head?” 

You shrug, sheepish. You look unnervingly casual with dried blood caked on half of your face. “Sort of.” 

“What do you mean, sort of?” His voice pitches before he can stop it, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to master himself. 

“I mean, it wasn’t on purpose,” you hedge. “I fainted first.” 

He pushes out a breath. Walks towards you. “Alright, let’s see.” 

The cut is above your eyebrow, and Remus places his hands carefully on your forehead and your jaw, lifting the gauze up to see it. Gentle, professional touches. 

“Are you experiencing any dizziness?” 

“They’ve already said I have a concussion, if that’s why you’re asking.” 

“Oh.” That was probably on the chart. He picks it up again, reading more thoroughly. “And you’ve already had anesthetic, too?” 

“That’s what they tell me.” 

Remus doesn’t mistake your buoyant tone for nonchalance. You’ve always shrouded your anxiety in smiles and good humor. To someone who knows you, it only gives you away. 

“Alright,” he says, making a conscious effort to banish his own worry from his voice. He pulls up a stool beside your bed and starts gathering his tools. “I’m just going to get set up, and then we can start. You shouldn’t feel anything at all.” He glances at you, seeing you bring your bottom lip between your teeth. “Do you know why you fainted?” 

You sigh, and it comes loose. “Yeah. Dehydration.” 

Remus looks at you sideways. “How did that happen?”

“Okay, you can put away your judgy tone,” you say, lips quirking up slightly. “I was helping a friend move into her new apartment. It’s hot out. It’s hard to tell dehydration from exhaustion when you’re carrying that much heavy stuff, you know?” 

He makes a noncommittal humming sound, but you roll your eyes like you can hear his critical thoughts anyway. “Why didn’t you take a break?” he asks. 

“I didn’t want to complain.” 

Remus huffs out a breath, amused despite himself. “You always were terrible at that.” 

“Hey.” You sound on the brink of laughter. “Terrible at what?” 

“At asking for the things you need. You’re always so worried about inconveniencing anyone you forget about yourself.” 

He lifts the gauze from your wound, wiping the area clean before readying the suture needle. You tilt your head up at his touch, a cautious, sweet sort of smile playing on your lips. When your gaze finds his, it’s like the world softens. 

“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he tells you. The endearment aches in his throat, tender and familiar and far too intimate for whatever you are now, but if you notice you don’t show it. You close your eyes obediently. 

Remus likes to think he gives his best effort to all his patients, but he knows as he works slowly on your stitches that he’s being extra careful with you. His eyes stay on his work with laser focus, one hand splayed across your hairline to steady him. 

“Alright?” he asks you softly. 

You loose a breath, somewhat shaky. “Yeah,” you say. “You’re right, I can’t really feel anything. It’s weird.” 

“It might leave a bit of a scar,” he apologizes. “I’m trying to be as neat as I can, though.” 

Your eyes open, seeking his, but you close them again when he tsks at you. 

“That’s fine,” you say in a quiet voice. “I don’t mind if it does.” 

Remus’ breath sticks in his lungs a bit, an old memory suddenly coming to him crystal clear. You in bed, lit by moonlight coming in through the open window, tracing his scars with your fingers and your mouth. Exceedingly gentle, not because you thought you’d break him but because you wanted to be, whispering sweet words that etched themselves into his heart and never left. 

“It wouldn’t look bad on you,” he agrees. 

“Right by my eyebrow, yeah?” Even with your eyes closed, your face is still expressive, your other eyebrow lifting with the corners of your mouth. “I think it’d look pretty badass.” 

Remus has the terrible, fervent urge to kiss the skin beside that forming scar. He doesn’t know what he’s allowed, but he might just be desperate enough not to care. Maybe he’ll indulge after the stitches are done. 

“Yeah,” he says, lovelorn. “It probably would.”

[pinkmelodie]

Hopeless Romantic! König <3

Summary: Hopeless Romantic König who meets you at a park and finds love at first sight to be true. You two enjoy a cute date until he takes you home and gives you one last treat ;)

Words: 2342

Warnings: 18+, overstim, König eats F!Reader out, fingering, fluff to smut, praise, cute romance, squirting, certified munch König !!

He feels like an idiot standing there in the scenic park, awkwardly holding a bouquet of fresh pink roses. He’d picked them out specially for her, and took the time to sprinkle glitter onto the beautiful petals, but it was all for nothing. All his effort went to waste as the poor guy got stood up.

Wallowing in his own shame, he barely noticed someone yelling in the distance until it got closer. He finally snapped out of his trance to see a dog running straight at him. He bent down and stopped the panting golden retriever, caught off guard but smiling and petting it.

“Rover! Oh thank gosh…” He thought it might be the angels themselves speaking when he heard that voice, but he looked up to see nothing but a beautiful woman with a relieved expression. Looking at her closely, he figured perhaps he was looking at an angel.

“Thank you for stopping him, he just runs straight off whenever I let him off leash.” You apologized breathlessly.

König smiled, and found himself forgetting the failed date entirely as he got lost in your eyes. “It’s not a problem, he’s quite adorable.” He responded, and he noticed your eyes widen the tiniest bit at his unfamiliar accent.

“C’mere Rovey,” You cooed, and König’s heart pounded in his chest. The dog trotted straight into your arms and sat still while you hooked the leash back onto his collar. Gosh, what König would give for your sweet voice to be directed onto him like that. 

König stood up and you followed suit after making sure your pooch’s collar was secure, and he didn’t miss the way your jaw dropped when you noticed his towering height. Seriously, what are they feeding this man??

You blushed and suddenly felt shy in the presence of this not only polite but incredibly tall man. He was handsome too, with alluring blue eyes that stared at you with such intensity you had to look away. 

Only then did you notice the fallen bouquet.

“Oh! Is this yours? I’m so sorry, did Rover knock it out of your hands-“ you apologized profusely and picked the shimmering bouquet up, handing it back to him. He didn’t give a flying fuck about the fact it fell on the ground tho, he didn’t even notice since he’d been so focused on staring at you.

He shook his head and didn’t bother taking it out of your hands. “No no, no worries. I uhm…I don’t even need it anymore anyways, my date didn’t show up.” He admited with a sigh.

He regretted telling you the moment your expression turned upset. “That’s horrible, I’m sorry.” You muttered sadly, and he felt the desperate need to make you smile again.  “Well this is beautifully made, too bad I couldn’t have been your date.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood but being completely honest.

He stared down at you and blushed as well, “You don’t mean that.” He denied.

“but I do! I would give anything for someone to put this much effort into something just for me.” You admitted, smiling up at him and giggling until you noticed his expression seemed serious.

“Anyone who hasn’t already is a mad man.” He said with a genuine smile, and took the bouquet out of your hands only to offer it back to you. “Little—Rover, was it?—seems to want to explore the park. So, why don’t we all go for a stroll Ja? Rover, me, and…..” He trailed off, so you told him your name.

“And you are?”

“König.” He announced, his addicting accent shining through when he said it.

“Well König…..I don’t see why not.” You accepted his offer and the flowers with a gentle smile that he found himself wanting to see for the rest of his life.

His awful day just got a whole lot better. 

You both spent the day walking around the lovely park, with you having to take twice as many steps just to catch up, which only proved to make him cackle. You admired the ponds and threw sticks for Rover, trusting that König and his long legs could catch up to the hound if he ran too far. He told you about how Austrians typically love to walk everywhere, and you followed up with about a hundred questions about his home country. You even got ice cream, which gave König all types of thoughts when he watched you wipe off the dripping white cream from your lips. He assumed you didn’t notice his stare and flushed cheeks, but you definitely did. Not so much of a gentleman now, hm?

Finally, when it was dark and the park became quiet you both decided to head home. When exchanging numbers you mentioned how you had to walk back to your house since you walked here with your pup earlier in the day for exercise, and König was not having any of that.

“Nein, it’s much too dangerous at night.” he shook his head, leaving no room for argument. “I will give you and your golden a ride home, it’s not a problem.” 

“Really König, it’s okay. I don’t want Rovers hair getting all over your seats.” You whined.

“And I don’t want you getting kidnapped off the side of the street Maus, which sounds worse to you?” He asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

You tried to argue but came up with nothing and sighed in defeat. “Fine, I’ll let you be annoyingly nice….” You pouted, and he laughed while opening the door for Rover to jump in the back—probably a sign you need a more protective dog if he didn’t even hesitate going in somewhere unfamiliar—and the passenger door for you. 

You gave him directions like his own little passenger princess, looking tiny in the truck that must’ve been specially made to fit someone as giant as him. You dreaded the moment when he pulled into your driveway meaning you two had to part. You’d only met him a few hours ago, yet it felt like you’ve known him for years.

“Have a good night, liebling.” He got out to help you let Rover out and walk you to your door, but before he could turn around to head back to his truck you stopped him. “Actually, would you like to come in?” You offered, setting down the flowers on your counter and smiling suggestively.

He turned beet red like he did at the ice cream stand, but nodded quickly. You giggled and grabbed his hand to drag him inside, pressing your lips together as soon as the front door was closed and Rover was sleeping further away in the middle of the kitchen floor. (Don’t get nasty infront of your pets guys!! They can get scarred for life too ok 😣)

“Jump.” He ordered, and you did as he said and leaped into the air. He caught you with ease, hands grabbing onto the back of your thighs and squeezing the soft flesh. 

He stumbled around for a moment, overly  caught up in your make out session but eventually finding your bedroom. He dropped you flat on your back on the bed, kissing at your neck and seeing which spots got the biggest reactions out of you to start sucking hickeys into.

You moaned and writhed, begging him to do something, and like the gentleman he is, he decided to help you out and tugged down your bottoms, rubbing circles onto your clit through your panties. 

He grabbed your ankles and tugged you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him to fit his broad shoulders between. He bit and sucked deep purple marks into your sensitive thighs, watching them writhe in his grasp. 

“König- fuck, please!” You begged, tho you weren’t even completely sure what you were begging for.

“What is it Maus? Tell me what you need.” He asked while pressing kisses up your thigh, leaving love-bites dangerously close to where you needed his mouth most.

“Want…..want your mouth on me. Or your fingers or- ngh! Anything please König- please!” You cried out, already begging pathetically for his touch.

With a devilish smirk he finally tugged down your panties. You clenched around nothing at the cold air and the look of admiration in his eyes as he stared down your cunt. 

“Such a pretty pussy….” he mumbled, “all this just for me sweetheart?” He asked, gathering your slick on his fingers. 

You turned your neck and buried your face in your pillow in embarrassment but he just reached up to grab your chin and turned you to look at him. “Eyes on me.” 

Finally satisfied with your pretty eyes gazing down at him, König delved into your cunt, gripping your thighs and shoving you impossibly closer like he wanted to devour you whole.

Your moans and choked out whines served as fuel for him while he ate you out like a man starved, his big hooked nose bumping into your clit making you shake and arch your back off the soft sheets.  

He dives his tongue into your entrance to fully taste you, and the satisfied hum he releases vibrates in your core and leaves you a leaking, panting mess as he licks you up like your the last bit of water on the Sahara ground.

 He licks a stripe up your pussy until he gets to your clit and starts sucking on it. He’s shameless to the sloppy wet sounds he’s making while he rolls the engorged bud on his tongue and prods a thick finger at your hole. You squirm at how big just the one is—about the size of at least two of yours, maybe more—but you welcome it in with a loud moan of his name. You were already dangerously close by the time he had his mouth on you, but the feeling of just one of his thick fingers slamming into you while he starts to tease another in has you crying out to the stars and cumming all over his hand. 

“That’s it schatz….just like that, mein gott you look so gorgeous when you’re cumming, Ich möchte für immer zwischen deinen Schenkeln bleiben.” He praised you, still pumping his two fingers into your clenching cunt to ride out your high for as long as possible. 

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, leaning down to lick up any of your arousal that spilled onto your thighs. When you finally opened your eyes you noticed him staring at you darkly, and the expression made heat pool in your gut.

“W-what?” You asked, half nervous-half turned on. You went to close your legs but he gripped your marked up thighs and laid your legs over his shoulders to have even better access to your soaked cunny.

“Oh we’re not even close to done prinzessin.” He announced with a smirk before sinking three fingers straight back into your pussy, fully intent on making you squirt for him.

You gasped and nearly choked on your words, “wha-y hah-“ you moaned and twitched in overstimulation until he slowed. 

“Tell me to stop.” It was a question; not an order.

Tears leaked down your flushed cheeks but you gasped out; “keep going” and he smiled, the whole bottom half of his face dripping. He wasted no time diving straight back in, inhaling your scent. “Mit Vergnügen, mein bedürftiges kleines Häschen.” He mumbled into your clit, not even bothering to speak English anymore as he knew your fucked out brain could barely comprehend anything. Four of his large digits split you open, grinding and prodding farther into you than you could ever reach on your own. Without much time he found that sensitive bundle of nerves, and you didn’t fail to let him know when you cried out and scratched at your sheets, chanting his name like a mantra.

“König- ah- KönigKönigKönigKönigpleasefuck- pleasepleaseKönig plea- hah . .!..” You moaned, fisting the sheets desperately.

He relentlessly abused that spot, slamming his fingers into you over and over and teasing your folds with the other hand. He messily sucked on your clit, circling it with his tongue like a lollipop, using every part of himself for your pleasure.

“Come on my gorgeous liebling, mein diamant, mein perfekter Schatz, come for me. Squirt all over my fingers.” He begged, voice whiny and muffled into your pussy while he continued his relentless assault on your puffy cunt. 

“Kö….gonna- fuck m’gonna-“ You managed to stutter out  the warning between moans.

“Go on hase, let go. I’ve got you, go ahead.” He encouraged, ravishing your sweet cunny until you were squirting all over his face with a choked out scream, whole body trembling. You were stuck between running away from the burning pleasure and shoving yourself closer, but luckily you didn’t have to decide as he had you pinned down, groaning into your pussy.

Your vision went blank for a few moments, but you came back when you felt him still lapping lazily at your folds until you were whining and shoving him away. He pouted but stood up to fall onto the bed beside you, pulling your spent body into him and engulfing you like you were a teddy bear.

You giggled and pressed a kiss onto his glistening lips, tasting yourself on them. “Not to sound like a jerk or anything, but I’m glad you got stood up.” You joked.

“Mm, I agree. That was the best, most unplanned date I’ve ever been on.” He bantered back with a cheeky grin. 

You rolled your eyes, but then smiled sincerely. “Yeah, it was. I’m really glad I met you Kö.”

His pupils dilated adorably, like a kid seeing a candy store for the first time. “Me too, schatz.”

The two of you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, but not before you muttered, 

“By the way, that other girl is missing out. You eat pussy like a champ.” 

“You could call me a certified munch.” He bounced back, and your jaw dropped.

. . . Translations:

౨ৎ Ja = Yes, Nein = No

♡ Maus = Mouse 

౨ৎ Liebling = Darling

♡ Schatz = Treasure

౨ৎ Mein gott = My gosh

♡ Ich möchte für immer zwischen deinen Schenkeln bleiben = I want to stay between your thighs forever (goals 😋)

౨ৎ Prinzessin = Princess 

♡ Mit Vergnügen, mein bedürftiges kleines Häschen = With pleasure, bunny

౨ৎ Mein diamant = My diamond

♡ Mein perfekter schatz = My perfect treasure 

౨ৎ Hase = Bunny 

Quick tip: Depending on what device you use, If you highlight the text there should be an option to quickly translate! It’s a lot easier than having to go to Google/Safari/etc to search it up :))

Thank you so much for reading !! It’s 3:00 in the morning rn so I apologize if it’s not very well written :C :C

This is just a sweet little thing to prepare you guys for the FILTHY blurb coming soon 😇😇 get ready!!

[typeofraccoon]

Hiii um can I request a fluff five x reader fic where the reader is also an adult stuck in their teenage body, and has a demeanor similar to Lila, they’re like super smart but always some of the most off-the-wall shit that doesn’t really sound smart at first but after a minute of thinking you’re like ‘oh shit Ok yeah that makes sense’. (Sorry if this doesn’t make much sense btw)

-rem

Part Of It

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Five Hargreeves Masterlist

I'm gonna make this kinda in an au where s3 didn't happen and Lila went with the Hargreeves instead of just leaving at the end of s2 and Ben's alive like actually alive not a ghost.

Also sorry if this isn't what you were thinking of.

Warnings: Not proof read, unfinished? and I basically had this finished so I just went through some of it and decided to post it. Even though this isn't too long and might not make sense.

Word count = 1,144

Description: Your remarks make even Five confused sometimes but it's part of why he loves you.

As the sun shone through the window and past the open curtains you rolled over in your bed reaching out next to you. After not feeling anyone you open your eyes squinting at the light that was flooding into the room. You sit up rubbing the sleep from your eyes getting ready to open them again.

When you had opened them you slung your legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed your slippers. Once you had put your slippers on you planted your feet on the ground and pushed yourself up off the bed. Now standing you walk towards the closet to get ready for the day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were now making your way to the kitchen to get a morning coffee and hopefully find the person that was missing from your bed when you woke up.

As you were walking down the stairs you saw Lila walking up them towards you. She smiled at you and started to talk "Fives in the kitchen making another pot of coffee."

You look at her questioningly with an amused grin on your face already knowing what she meant but decided to ask anyway. "What do you mean another pot?"

Her grin widened as she lifted a mug in her hand while saying "Diego isn't awake yet, and both me and him need our morning coffee." As she finishes her sentence you notice another mug in her other hand. "There was just enough for two cups, luckily."

You both chuckled a little before saying bye to each other walking the opposite ways again.

Now you knew that Five wouldn't be cheerful in the morning already but with Lila having taken Fives coffee you knew it would be easy to piss him off. You were already thinking of some way to distract Five from Lila so that he wouldn't be plotting revenge for the rest of the day.

When you walked into the kitchen you noticed Five hovering over the coffee pot mumbling something under his breath. You smile slightly realising that this is your chance to try and scare Five. Something that he had never given you any chance to do before and had actually said that you'd never be able to do.

As you snuck up behind him you got ready to say what you had planned in an effort to also distract him from what you were about to do as well.

When you were close enough to him you started talking relatively loud before wrapping your arms around him. "You know that if you lived for 70 years you'd have spent like 10 years of your life on Monday."

You felt Five jump slightly your smile grow wider at your successful attempt at scaring him even slightly. You let go of him and Five turned to face you. When you could finally see his face he looked confused and you smiled sweetly up at him.

You were looking at him innocently as if you hadn't just said something that you knew he had to think about. Then Five turned back around to the coffee pot and picked it up getting ready to pour coffee into his cup.

As he started to pour the coffee into his cup he spoke to you. "What do you mean by that?"

When he finished talking you started to clarify why you had brought it up. "Well think about it you're technically 58. So in 12 years you'll have lived 10 years of your life on a Monday."

You were looking up at him with a sweet smile on your face as you were talking. When you had finished talking he had filled his cup up with coffee.

When he went to place the coffee pot back in it's rightful place you quickly grabbed his cup and walked to the table. By the time that Five had realised that you had taken his cup you had already sat in one of the chairs and started to sip from the cup.

Five looked at you with a fed up look before sighing and turning back around. But you noticed his mouth turn into a slight smile just before he managed to fully turn around.

"Did you really have to take my coffee?" He said while going to take out another cup from the cupboard.

You watched his movements "Yep." You responded to him with a smile.

When he had grabbed another cup he turned back around to look at you before starting to talk again. "Even if that was correct wouldn't all the time travelling change that."

You thought for a second while drinking. "I mean... that would depend on if you time travelled perfectly then technically my point still stands" As you finished talking you were looking at him.

Five had grabbed the coffee pot once again and started to pour it into his new cup while he was looking right at you. He sighed before an adoring smile was brought to his face and he chuckled slightly before he responded. "Fair enough."

He placed the coffee pot back where he had just placed it a couple of minutes ago. He brought his cup to his lips and took a sip of the coffee before he started to walk towards you.

He smiled lovingly at you and sat in the chair next to yours before he started talking trying to continue the conversation. "So when I actually do turn 70 then I will have spent at least 10 years of my life on a Monday."

You looked at him excited. "'Exactly! See that's still interesting."

When you finished the sentence you laughed slightly while looking up at him. Meanwhile he just rolled his eyes at you while taking another sip of his coffee.

He looked into your eyes before starting to speak to you again. "So since you're so certain about that. Do you know how many years we will have been together in 12 years?" As he was finishing his sentence he leaned closer to you and smirked once again.

You leaned in closer to Five as well and closed your eyes confidently with a smile on your face. "Well actually it will have been about nineteen years since we first met and about fifteen years since we started dating."

Five smiled lovingly at you and leaned back slightly to take another slightly longer sip of his coffee. When he brought the cup back away from his lips, his smile still prominently glued to his face he started to lean back in towards you while placing his cup on the table beside him.

Once Five was a couple of inches away from you he spoke again. "Sorry but you're wrong there darling. " When he finished his sentence he chuckled slightly. "By then we would've met seventeen years ago and it would have been dating for fifteen years."

[alatushours]

☆ STARS, SNORES & SAKE, feat. roronoa zoro — after a long day of celebrations, all zoro wants is to spend some quiet time with his lover.

contents. gender neutral reader. established relationship, fluff. use of y/n + pet names (zoro calls reader baby, you call him birthday boy). zoro birthday special! ♡ word count. 1.4k

notes. guess who’s back from the dead… that’s right it’s me! and just in time for zoro’s birthday too ♡ (watch me disappear after posting this) lowk zoro might be ooc but who cares i just want soft zoro maaaan. i haven’t written in so long but i really hope you guys enjoy! follows & reblogs are appreciated!

ZORO WAS EXHAUSTED. it had been seven in the morning when he’d been ambushed by the straw hats with party poppers and balloons as he was on his way towards the crow's nest for his daily morning workout. all day, he’d been surrounded by noise, confetti, and luffy gum-gum-rocketing into him every five minutes. now it was nine in the evening, and the crew was still partying the night away. 

he didn't understand why they made such a big deal out of celebrating it, really. his birthday was never that important in the past, so why should it be now? but he supposed that everything was different here than in shimotsuki village, out on the grand line. 

well, at least they had booze. 

he picked up a new bottle of sake from the counter and made his way back over to the table, avoiding luffy and usopp chasing each other around the kitchen with chopsticks stuck up their noses. he’s surprised how they still had so much energy after devouring the feast that sanji had made for dinner. (actually, he was more surprised that the shitty cook spent so much effort on the food, considering it was him they were celebrating.) 

he couldn't help but glance over at you, who was chatting with robin across the table. as he sat down, your eyes met his for a brief moment, and a silent conversation was exchanged between the two of you. 

i'm tired of this. come with me? 

give me just a little longer, 'kay? wanna finish this piece of cake. 

he sighed and made himself comfortable in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. taking a few sips from his bottle, once glancing at nami across the table, who was staring at him. 

what? he mouthed. 

nothing, she mouthed back. 

as soon as zoro saw you eat the last bite of your cake, he stood up and and was beside you at the table before you could even put the fork down.

“come to the deck with me.” he left the question mark out of his sentence; he knew you would come whether he asked you or not, anyway.

you giggled and pushed back out of your chair, taking his awaiting hand. “sure, birthday boy.” 

“don’t call me that.” zoro grumbled at the name, but there was just a tiny hint of a smile on his face. 

“oi, zoro! where are you and y/n going?” luffy asked, mouth half-full of meat. 

“out for some quiet time,” the swordsman replied. “you guys are too noisy. you can have the rest of the cake if ya want, captain.” 

luffy laughed in approval as zoro turned away, ignoring the cook’s grumble of “ungrateful marimo” as he made his way out the kitchen holding his bottle of sake in one hand and your intertwined fingers in the other. 

the smell of sea salt was fresh on the breeze. gentle waves rocked against the hull of the ship, and the stars peeked out in the clear night sky.

“perfect weather for stargazing tonight, isn't it?” you asked him, the sound of your shoes clacking against the wooden deck of the sunny. 

zoro nodded, finding a comfortable place to sit at the bow of the ship by the sunny's masthead. he patted the empty space next to him, which you gladly settled down into.

"finally, some peace and quiet," he sighed, arm instinctively curling around your waist. “i love the crew, but they’re noisy as hell.” 

you nodded your head against his shoulder, listening to the sound of the waves. then suddenly you jumped up to your boyfriend's surprise with an "oh! i almost forgot." you turned and smiled mischievously at him. "wait here for a minute." 

before he could answer, you were scurrying off towards your shared cabin. zoro exhaled, taking a swig from his bottle of alcohol. you were always like this, spontaneous in everything you did. he'd stopped asking you what you were up to a long time ago. most of the time it was just you surprising him with things, anyway. he figured it was probably the same this time too. 

before you long you came back up to him, holding a paper gift bag with a green ribbon tied around the handles. "here," you smiled down at him, and he swore he was seeing the sun. "it's your present. it isn't much, but i hope you like it!" 

"for me?" he took the bag tentatively as you sat back down next to him, wondering what it could possibly be. he wasn't one for gifts, really; but if it was from you it was sure to be something thoughtful. he started pulling things from inside the bag; there was a fancy bottle of sake; he was sure it had to have been expensive. and there was something else. a full-color drawing of himself, held in a wooden picture frame. 

"when did you draw this?" zoro asked. he already knew it was you who made it; the art style was the same as the doodles you liked to draw of him for fun.

"a few days ago, when you were training," you replied. "i sat n' watched, remember? i was drawing the whole time. i tried to be sneaky about it, but i still think you noticed." 

now that he thought about it, he had seen you sketching something in your notebook when he was training. he thought you were simply passing the time with him, but it was really for a different purpose.

"well, it looks just like me." he was impressed at the likeness of the drawing to himself; you'd captured his intense stare, the miniscule droplets of sweat rolling down his face. you'd even drawn the metallic sheen on his swords reflecting in the sunlight. 

"are you sure you like it? it looks okay, right?" you asked him nervously. you had spent extra time afterwards making sure it looked just like him, and even more time perfecting the colors and shading. 

zoro chuckled and leaned over to kiss your forehead. "more than okay, baby. it's beautiful. thank you." he pointed to the unopened bottle of sake. "and thanks for this too. i'm sure it must've been expensive." 

you shook your head. "not really. i just borrowed a bit from robin, that's all." 

he laughed. "at least ya didn't borrow from nami. that witch would probably be all up in your face to pay her back already." 

"yeah, i guess." you leaned against his shoulder, and it was quiet for a while; just you, him, and the gentle lullaby of the ocean waves. 

"i'm glad you like it, though." you whispered after a while. "i was worried…" 

"the hell you'd have to be worried about?" zoro straightened up to look at you then. "you know i don't give a damn about what you get me, as long as it's from you. though… next year, i wouldn’t mind if you drew the two of us. so i can look at it when i miss you."

you blushed. "zoro, you see me almost every day." then suddenly, you laughed. "wait a minute, is the hard-as-steel swordsman of the strawhats being romantic?" 

it was his turn to blush. "i don't know what the hell you're talking about, you idiot." he cleared his throat, then continued. "but really, y/n. don't worry so much 'bout these things, got it? you know i keep all your gifts, anyway." 

“okay.” you kissed him under the pale moonlight, with just the moon and the stars to bear witness to it. his lips tasted like sea and sake and home. “happy birthday, ‘zo. i love you.” 

“love you too, baby.” 

you made yourself comfortable in the warmth of zoro's arms, gazing up at the bright stars above. before you knew it, the rocking of the ship and the soft lull of your boyfriend's chest was enough to send you drifting off to sleep. 

zoro sighed contently, the sound of your soft snores peaceful in his ears. careful not to disturb you from your rest, he stood up. carrying you with one arm and holding your gifts to him in the other, he slowly walked back towards your room. 

he was never one for birthdays, but you made them worth celebrating.

end notes. damn i haven’t written something this long since last year. it took me like a month to type 500 words and then i finished the other 900 yesterday… lowk dunno how i feel about how this turned out but i hope you guys liked!

© alatushours 2024. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[thee-horny-thicky]

This might be a weird request. But I was looking for a Muzan or douma x reader. However whenever they get intimate- the female never moans. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy it she just isn’t very vocal which annoys and gives them a complex. The fact they can’t even get a human girl to moan annoys and frustrates them. She’s shy, little insecure (chubbier side) so never moans. Also doesn’t get off on general just touching etc. it excites her but doesn’t get her soaked.

Congratulations, Anon. You've been selected for 'Drafts Thicky Should Finish and Post Program!' I chose to do Douma for one because that's what past me chose to do. Anyway, enjoy!

Much didn’t hurt Douma’s pride. But you, a little human maid, succeeded easily. You were supposed to be a distraction, a way to get his dick wet. Then, when he was done with you, he’d turn you into a meal. You had a cute face and ample curves that’d keep him well-fed. At least, that was the plan, until you rejected him.

“I’m honored,” you’d said, a blush consuming your plump cheeks.

He remembered grinning smugly, thinking he had you in his trap. Then, you’d continued speaking, wiping his smile away.

“But I must decline your offer."

With that, you’d bowed and scurried away, leaving a shocked Douma in your wake.

Your rejection had lit a fire under Douma, spurring him to chase you until he finally got you in his bed. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown attached to you, the game of cat and mouse being played throwing a wrench in his plans to fuck and eat you. Through hours of stalking and harassing, he’d gotten to know you, and your gentle, bashful demeanor reminded him of Kotoha, when he’d first stumbled across her. Maybe that’s why, after he just finished fucking you, he had no interest in consuming your flesh. Or perhaps, it was because his mission felt incomplete. He’d bedded you, yes, but you barely made a peep. Your lip stayed firmly between your teeth, and when he managed to coax a sound out of you, it was only a few whimpers.

Worst of all, Douma didn’t think you came.

So, there he lay, stewing in frustration and humiliation, tangled in the sheets, his nude body pressed against yours. He had half the mind to snap your neck right there, for all the effort you were making him put in. But if he did, he’d have no chance to redeem himself. So, instead, he voiced what was on his mind.

“Was I not good?” he blurted, the question sounding absurd coming from his lips.

He was Upper Moon #2, irrefutably handsome, powerful, intelligent, and had a legion of loyal followers. He’d given many pleasure before you and would continue to give pleasure to many after you. Douma was more than good enough, he was amazing, and yet you had him questioning himself.

One day, you’d pay for that.

You looked at him, face flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes glossy. You looked thoroughly ravished, except you hadn’t fucking come.

“It felt good,” you said with a small smile, meant to be reassuring, but doing nothing for him. “I-I just don’t…”

You trailed off, then shook your head, looking away as your cheeks grew hotter. “Never mind. It’s silly. I…I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, feeling borderline desperate.

You sighed, then refocused on him. “I…I just don’t have intense orgasms. Really, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stared at you, not fully understanding. Never had he been with a woman who didn’t have a noticeable orgasm. Douma analyzed everything he’d done to you, which was rather tame compared to past encounters. He limited it to fingers and cock, too consumed with want to do anything else.

Oh.

Oh.

At that moment, he had a revelation, suddenly feeling like a dumbass. Penetration alone wasn’t enough for many women.

His gaze remained locked on yours, and the longer he stared, the more embarrassed your expression became. “Just forget I said anything,” you said pleadingly.

Absolutely not.

Instead of obliging, he sat up fully and crawled over your prone form. First, he kissed your neck, relishing in your soft gasp. He smiled against your skin. Already, you were proving his theory correct.

“Silly me, not savoring you properly,” he murmured as he kissed down your body, stopping at your breasts.

You squirmed, trying to escape his touch, but he held you in place

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you panted, before whimpering when his tongue swirled around your pebbled nipples.

As he sucked and nibbled, he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his palm, smell your arousal, sense the blood pumping through your veins. The results he was getting just couldn’t be denied.

“But I want to,” he said, before switching to the other breast and giving it the same attention.

You moaned, back arching, hands tangling in his hair. Any protests you had died a quick death.

When he had his fill of your full tits, he resumed his descent, kissing your soft belly, then your wide hips, and finally your thick thighs. The smell of your wet heat had his mouth watering. He parted your legs, taking a moment to admire the slickness that greeted him, before leaning down and swiping his tongue along your slit. When your taste hit his taste buds, he groaned. You tasted so sweet. He imagined your flesh and blood would be just as flavorful.

When he spread your lower lips to have full access, he blew air onto your dripping sex, chuckling at your whimper and pathetic shoves. Teasingly, his tongue darted to sample some of your juices. The rich, tangy taste made his restraint snap. Not even a second later, he speared his tongue inside your core, nearly drooling at just how delectable you were, at the sweet sounds you were finally making.

“Oh!” you gasped, gripping the sheets and arching into his mouth.

He ate you with gusto, his eagerness reflecting his hunger for you, literal and metaphorical. Each move he made resulted in his nose bumping your clit, stimulating you further. Your shyness started to disappear, and soon, you were shamelessly grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure you’d been deprived of earlier.

Silly Douma, thinking his cock was the best part of him. Clearly, it was his mouth. Not only was he an excellent conversationalist, but his tongue could bring pleasure to any woman, a fact you were reaffirming.

He kept a firm grip on your thighs and hips, keeping you still as he feasted. To send you hurling toward the edge, he rubbed his thumb over your clit in quick, firm circles. Moments later, your body was tensing, your pussy clenching around his tongue as you came.

“Don’t stop, please!” you cried as you experienced your peak, moaning at the top of your lungs.

He had no intention to. He licked and fingered you through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you were a sweaty, panting mess. He was content staying between your legs the rest of the night, finally sampling your flavor and pleasing you. It was a win/win, and most importantly, saw the return of the ego that defined him.

TLTR: Reader only has intense orgasms from having her pussy ate

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

The Tiefling Bachelors Taking Care of Sick! Reader Getting Treatment

A/N: This was sitting in my drafts, finished months ago, but I guess I never posted it? Oh well, it’s here now! 

No one asked for this but it came to me as I was getting infused the other day. I really wanted Zevlor to manifest out of thin air and hold my hand  😔. Anyway, without further ado… Here we go!

Characters: Dammon/Reader; Rolan/Reader; Zevlor/Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

TW: Brief discussions of illness, some fantasy medical talk

Dammon- 

Dammon is probably the most fussy of the trio. He’s bumbling around the tent, ensuring you have enough blankets and water. Or do you want tea? Juice? Whatever it is, love, name it and he will fetch it for you.

He means to be helpful although his nervous waiting on you does create an air of anxiety in the room. 

If he gets too manic, the healers have to send him out on an ‘errand’, so that he can collect his nerves and so you have time to yourself. 

When he returns, Dammon is much calmer, having been cornered and given a pep talk by one of the elder tieflings or your companions outside. 

He’ll sit across from you, and distract you by showing you his latest outlines/blueprints for swords and lathes and such. 

If you’re particularly stressed, or truly not feeling well due to the side-effects of the treatment, he might even show you his jewelry designs. Dammon was, of course, planning to give them to you as a present after you’d finished your treatment, but in the meantime, he’d like you to keep them in mind to have something forward to look to. 

If you’re sleepy, he’ll just stay at your side while you rest, sketching in his book or making idle chats with the healer. 

Dammon excels at ‘parallel play’ kind of dates. He quite enjoys it when the two of you are each doing their respective thing within a shared space. He’s more than comfortable amusing himself while you just chill out right next to him. 

Of course, before you leave, he asks the healers a million questions, scrambling down all their answers. How long will this last? What side effects should you look out for? What happens if things get worse? He wants to be prepared after they take their leave, and he sees it as his responsibility to take care of you as you recuperate. 

He’s really so sweet, like a little puppy dog. He’s not always the most helpful, and he has a tendency to get in the way, but his efforts never fail to lift your spirits at the end of the day.

Rolan-

Rolan is such a stickler for being an oppositional brat all the time. He gives everyone around him whiplash by turning into the most overbearing parental figure. You’d think he’d been possessed if it wasn’t for that trademark smirk of his. 

He’s constantly making you drink. No, he doesn’t care that you’re not thirsty, the healer said to stay hydrated throughout the process. And no, he doesn’t care that it means you have to get up to pee every 15 minutes. Urinary frequency is a small price to pay! Now be a good patient and drink your chamomile tea without any more complaining, yeah?

He watches the healers like a hawk, mentally recording their every word/move. He’s not a cleric or druid, but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely naive to healing magic. He wants to make sure whatever spells or potions you’re being given are up to his standard. 

And if the healing isn’t magical in nature... Oh boy, he’s going to be even more of a pill about it. He still hovers of course. But he also makes the occasional ‘helpful’ suggestion like: ‘I know a spell that could do that faster’, ‘Herbs are nothing compared to the power of the Weave’. The healers just roll their eyes and work around him. 

If he gets really grouchy, you’re gonna have to put him in a time-out. If not for your sake, then for the poor healers who are just trying to do their job. Rolan argues for a moment, but ultimately agrees, leaving to gather himself. 

When he comes back you can tell either Cal or Lia have spoken some sense into him, since he’s calmed down a bit. Rolan will sit with you, read to you, hold your hand if you beg ask, he might even perform a few tricks for you if you’re feeling up to it. 

He ushers the healers away as soon as they're done, wanting to just be alone with you. He puts up a tough exterior, but deep down he’s afraid. He cares for you so much. You, Cal, and Lia are his family, he feels it's his job to protect you, but try as he might he cannot protect you from your illnesses, and that hurts him deeply. 

You’ll need to comfort him once all this is all over. It’s as much an ordeal for him as it is for you.

Zevlor-

Zevlor is a worry-wart, bless his old paladin heart. His mind is always racing with endless possibilities- about the tieflings, about the grove, about you… It can be a lot for the commander to handle. 

But because Zevlor is a paladin and former hellrider, he has a good amount of experience working under pressure. He knows how to keep a level head and act on what is good for those around him, unlike what seems easiest to accomplish. 

He’s a very disciplined man, and he tries to get that discipline extended to you as you heal. He sets up a regime, for diet, exercise, and socializing catered especially to your needs and current abilities. He wants you to utilize this time to maximize your healing, and just let yourself trust that you are doing all you can to take care of yourself. 

He trusts the healers implicitly, knowing their expertise is much better suited to you and your current priorities. He’ll cater his regime around their recommendations, taking into accommodation your current feelings/moods of course. 

He writes out instructions for you to read while he’s away, busy tending to his duties. In the event he’s especially worried about watching over you, he’ll send Tilly or another one of his soldiers to check in on you periodically. 

Zevlor would love nothing more than to spend the entire day with you, keeping you safe in his embrace, but he’s wise enough to understand that even amidst these kinds of things, life must go on. He cannot abandon his duties as leader and you cannot abandon your life. 

Zevlor tries to maintain the status quo as best as possible, he doesn’t want your illness and treatments to entirely define your life, just as he wishes Elterel will not solely define his. 

Once all is said and done, he comes to find you, a warm broth in his hands. He settles down next to you as you sip your meal slowly, his tail coiling around your waist keeping you close to him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, you don’t need to. It’s clear to you what’s in Zevlor’s heart. 

The two of you just sit silently together, enjoying each other's company, as you brace yourselves for yet another new dawn. 

I hope you enjoyed! 

If you like my work, please consider Buying Me A Coffee!

And most importantly, please Like and REBLOG! 

[azrielbrainrot]

Fire on Fire

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Description: Being female in the Autumn Court was hard enough before you got engaged against your will. You try to avoid your fate at any cost.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3966

Notes: Writing Eris is hard, I hope this isn't too bad. Also meant for this to be so much shorter but oh well. Feedback is always appreciated! (unless you're mean about it)

Fire on Fire Masterlist

You watch elegant gowns in all shades of green and orange against tasteful brown and scarlet three piece suits flowing to the music. Your own floor length gown is a muted burnt orange that complimented your figure enough not to be considered provocative. The dress is undeniably beautiful but you would have liked it more had you been allowed to choose it for yourself, it was only upon arriving that you realized the color was meant to match your fiancé's. Orange and burgundy, symbolizing the fire in your hearts, burning for each other. Such a shame you didn't choose him either.

Lively music and laughter can be heard all around the extravagantly decorated ballroom. A proper celebration fit for… you can't even remember what the purpose of this ceremony was. Just another in a long list of mindless parties you aren't allowed to fully indulge in, celebrating people you don't like or traditions you'd rather never participate in.

In any other situation you might have loved to take in the beautiful decorations around the room and lose yourself in the music, dancing and laughing to your heart's desire. But, as you stare at the same intricately decorated chandelier, with magical flames swaying to the beat, you can't take your mind off the people around you.

Your engagement ring clinks against your wine glass slightly, both useless props. You were only allowed a couple modest sips of the wine before putting it aside, as no female should indulge in such a thing, let alone an unmarried one. And the ring seemed more like a mockery than anything else. It symbolized your purpose in this life, to be someone's trophy wife just as your parents had raised you. You think a noose around your neck would feel less haunting.

Thankfully, your parents had left you alone shortly after arriving, letting you sit by one of the tables while you watched the celebration from afar. They must have been content with your demure act, the promised beauty standing off by the side while the married and unclaimed fae reveled in the center of the room. You wonder if you approached the table filled with deliciously smelling goods your mother would winnow to you, lest you look fat in your already too tight corset. It's not even worth the effort for a simple bite of food, you'd rather starve until you're alone.

With a soft sigh you let your eyes wander away from the chandeliers, if you stare at them any longer you might blind yourself with the flames. Pretending no one else was here was an impossible feat anyway. As much as your room feels like a prison sometimes, you'd give anything to go back home right now.

Your eyes meet your future husband's and a chill immediately runs through your body. Eris looks as impeccable as ever in his intricately decorated suit, not a line or hair out of place just as it was expected of the Autumn Court Heir. There is no doubt that he is an exceptionally handsome male, you don't even want to imagine how many fae would kill to be in your place. It's just a shame that his personality is less than desirable, and so is his attitude towards you, and his manners when no one is looking, and that he was the final nail on the coffin that is your stupid fate.

You knew an arranged marriage would eventually become your reality ever since you were a child and your father had told you not to bother with romance, he'd pick someone suitable to marry you and all you had to do was be good to him. In his eyes love is not worth it. You wonder if he even believes it exists, he's certainly never felt it, not even for you, his own child. It makes you feel more at ease knowing no one has ever loved him either, as cruel as that might make you.

For a while you didn't pay your future too much mind, you'd have secret crushes, read romance books behind everyone's backs and even had fleeting affairs when you were a teenager, but it came to a point where you couldn't ignore your fate anymore. When you were freshly seventeen, your mother started intensifying her lessons on how to be a good wife and a good mother - this was the biggest irony since she had never been anything but cruel to you - and your time was consumed with preparations for a future you'd rather run from.

Shortly after, your father put you officially on the market for a husband that would compliment the family's powers, and the High Lord himself came forth, interested in having you marry his eldest son. You knew your family's power was coveted in the Autumn court, your fire was only second to the Vanserra line and the current Lady of Autumn, but this still came as a surprise for you and your family as the High Lord never appeared interested in you. There was no point deluding yourself anymore, your fate as a glorified brooding mare was staring you right in the face.

You had briefly thought of escaping, but the chances of succeeding were slim and you had nowhere to go. You knew the other courts didn't operate on such archaic rules, for the most part at least, but you were also aware that none would accept an autumn court noble female. Your High Lord had burned every bridge with the other courts a thousand times over. You didn't blame any of them for being wary of anything that crawled out of this sickening court.

Words cannot describe how much you hate Beron and everything he stands for which is a good thing because you'd be burned alive in public for speaking those words out loud. Still, you know your feelings of hatred could never hold a candle to Eris' distaste for his own father, and this is how your bargain came to be.

Upon hearing that your future husband would be the heir to the Autumn Court, you had only felt fear like never before. Eris had a reputation of cruelty that preceded him, he was a favorite for the throne among the despicable nobles of this court for a reason after all, but following your first meeting, you had seen a side of him that you'd bet not even a handful of people had glimpsed before and had ultimately came to an agreement that benefitted both of you: you'd push back the date for as long possible while playing the role your fathers expected of the both of you and, if you were lucky, you'd be able to avoid the marriage altogether when Beron wasn't High Lord anymore.

Eris wanted to dispose or Beron, burn down the ruins of this old-fashioned, cruel court and have Autumn be reborn from the ashes. You never intend to call him your husband, but you would gladly help him so you could, one day, come to call him your High Lord.

He observes you for a few heartbeats before downing the content of his glass and setting it aside. In the next moment he's walking straight to you, not ever letting his eyes stray or giving you a moment to breathe.

You can't help but think he looks every bit the High Lord in this moment, with his suffocating power untamed and wicked gaze trained on you. Eris walks to you in slow, intentional steps, like a predator would walk to his prey. His three piece suit was clinging to his frame perfectly, showing off his physique with every step. The pushed back hair only made the intensity in his eyes more noticeable and the strands he left out were framing his face perfectly. Eris looked extremely handsome from afar but he's suffocatingly entrancing when he stands in front of you.

You barely exchange pleasantries before he holds a hand out to you. You can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you, observing every interaction in hopes of finding any detail to gossip about. They all know your marriage is arranged but they're under the impression that, as a female, landing the most sought-after bachelor in the court was your endgame. And there are plenty of people who would go to extreme measures to ensure that they or their family member would be the one becoming the next Lady of Autumn. You're not sure if they'd spare you even if you told them you didn't want anything to do with the title.

“Time to put on a show, doll.” Trying not to let your face show the distaste of the petname he chose for you all those years ago, you take his hand and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

The music changes right before you start, the band knows this is one of the highlights of the evening - the heir and his fiancé. People will be talking about this moment for the next weeks, it's not often you and Eris interact in public after all, just enough for him to show his claim on you as your father so eloquently put it.

Eris leads you through the dance effortlessly, your body following instinctively in turn. You've yet to see him be less than amazing at something. You wonder what kind of picture the two of you paint, moving together so gracefully to the music, orange against burgundy, fire on fire.

“How are you enjoying the evening?” You'd rather he was quiet and ignored you in these moments you have to show up together in public like so many husbands and fiancés do. Eris loves to fan the flames and it's just your luck that they're usually yours. He might not have as much as to lose if you snap and let your fire show, but Beron wouldn't let him go unpunished if his fiancé caused a scene.

“Lovely,” you make sure your gaze is both timid and kind, avoiding his gaze as if you were inferior to him. As he spins you around and brings you in closer, you add in a hushed tone, “Haven't been allowed to eat since this morning and my hair is pulled up so tightly I can barely think.”

“You females sure have it rough.” He means it as a sarcastic comment but you've known him long enough to identify the distaste behind his words. Eris doesn't have the liberty to speak his mind so he's learned to do it behind mockery and sarcasm over the centuries. He knows how rough you have it, unfortunately he's seen it first hand.

“Oh I'm sure you have it so much worse,” you say in a tone you hope matches his, “It's not like you don't spend your mornings walking your hounds around the forest and nights only the Mother knows where.”

You see something spark in his eyes, something akin to satisfaction, before he's tightening his grip on your waist and bringing you in closer. He looks around the room first, as if daring anyone to keep staring while he talks to his soon-to-be wife. Of course, no one does.

“Spying on me, little doll?” Your breath hitches and you know he hears it because you can feel his smirk grow. You'll blame the blush spreading through your flesh and chills moving through your body on your performance later, but in this moment you know they're very much real.

Eris has an effect on you. The male is undeniably attractive, you doubt you'd find any fae or human who wouldn't think so, and that wicked tongue of his only makes him more enticing. You like to blame your body's response to him on your lack of experience, but you're not sure it would be possible to not feel at least tempted to indulge in Eris even if you'd already made your way through the entire court.

“I wasn't trying to,” you swallow, fighting to keep your tone steady and not show any more reaction to his proximity. This much was true, you could barely sneak around to find time for yourself, let alone spend it looking for your fiancé. “Maybe you're just easy to find,” you tilt your head slightly, “This doesn't bode well with all your plans.” You swear you can feel a small chuckle coming from him but he's hiding it before you can be sure.

The song rises in tempo and Eris takes this opportunity to spin you around again, effectively putting some space between you. It's hard to keep a pleasant smile on your face while spewing venom filled words at your husband to be, but letting anyone overhear you or find any little crack in your performance would only bring trouble, and this is routine for you after all. You'd never admit it but with his hand in yours the stares are easier to digest, even if your arrangement was involuntary, at least you weren't alone for once in your life.

The song finally comes to an end. You rush to bow to him slightly so you can go back to an emptier corner of the ballroom and escape everyone's prying eyes, but Eris takes your hand before you can. He takes it up to his mouth, kissing it softly before whispering in your ear.

“Meet me at the cabin later.” It must be an important subject for Eris to even bring this up at a place like this. Though you're sure it had simply looked like he left you with some teasing parting words.

The rest of the ceremony is uneventful. You go back to the same place you had spent most of the night in and ignored the whispers around you. Aside from your mother coming by to ask you what Eris told you - to which you promptly lied and feigned bashfulness - you sat in the corner quietly wondering what your fiancé wants to talk to you about.

As soon as you walk into your room you let out a loud sigh. You wish you could just fall into your bed and not emerge until the sun is high in the sky tomorrow. Unfortunately, you still need to let the maids bathe you and get you ready for bed. Your mother insists on having them help you, especially on days like these, as if you could drown in the bath.

It takes what feels like hours to go through the whole routine, getting you out of the too small corseted dress was a feat in itself. If you had been alone you probably would have already burned it off your body in frustration, it's not like you'll be allowed to wear it again either way.

You lie down in bed as soon as the maids leave, keeping an ear out for everyone else in the house. Trying to leave before everyone was asleep was too risky. They had no reason to think you would leave in the middle of the night like this, but you couldn't help being a little paranoid. There's too much to lose.

When you think it's safe, you climb out of bed quietly. You look down at your nightgown and contemplate changing into something warmer. It barely reaches your knees so you'll definitely be cold, but you were already late and it would be easier to just get back into bed like this. You decide to put on some boots and throw a green hood over it.

Taking one more look around, you winnow to your meeting point. No one knows you have this ability, which is how you can sneak out as often as you do. You've kept this secret from everyone but Eris, though you didn't intentionally reveal it to him either.

He'd shown you this place when you first made your bargain years ago. You're not entirely sure what the cabin was used for before but it was probably only meant for storage. Eris must have found it deep into the forest and decided it was a good place to hide, you can only imagine the things he's gotten up to inside these walls.

As soon as you materialize into the cabin you see Eris standing by the fire. He's changed out of his suit but it doesn't look like he was getting ready for bed with the black ensemble he has on. Yours is probably not the only secret meeting he's having tonight.

“You're late.” Incredible how Eris always strives to be the nicest person in the room.

“I had to wait for everyone to think I was asleep so they didn't see me,” you start as you push the hood off your head, “Excuse me if I took a bit longer making sure no one followed me.”

“You're perfectly excused, doll.” The flames in the hearth climb higher, fueled by your anger that only escalates when you see the familiar smirk on his irritatingly beautiful face. “Oh my. How have you managed to hide your powers with such a fiery disposition?”

You ask yourself that same question often. Fortunately, he might be the only person who can make your temper boil so easily. You don't even want to think what would happen if your father found out how powerful you could be.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure, you take a deep breath and walk closer to the fire. The cloak is doing little to ward off the cold of the autumn forest, you hope he at least ends this conversation quickly.

“I was hoping you'd keep the dress on,” he takes on a seductive tone and looks down at your bare legs before locking eyes with you once more, “but this might be even better.” You will never understand why he insists on playing this game with you, you're more than aware that he has no such feelings for you. You also know you probably look ridiculous.

“Well I was hoping you'd get eaten by a wolf on the way here,” you give him a sweet smile, “but we don't always get what we want.”

The disinterested hum he sends your way in lieu of a response is somehow more infuriating than anything he might have come up with. The fact that Eris managed to live over 500 years with this personality might as well be one of the biggest mysteries in Prythian.

“What did you want to tell me anyway?” You just wanted to get this over with and go back to your warm bed so you can finally sleep the day off.

“Our marriage will take place within the year.” The world fell silent at his words. You always knew this day could come, that Eris could only delay it for so long, but hearing the words makes your heart sink.

“What?”

“Beron hasn't talked to me about it yet but he told my mother to start preparations for my wedding.” He runs a hand through his hair, you hadn't noticed how messy it already was. He's as worried about this as you are. “She warned me he'll probably announce it soon. I thought it would be tonight.”

You don't know how to process this. It may have been foolish but you had hoped this would never actually happen since Eris was on your side. You sit on the bench and Eris follows suit. Your masks drop in the small comfort of the secluded cabin, there's no use pretending now.

“What about your other plan?” This was your last chance: if Eris was High Lord he could simply call the engagement off and your father wouldn't be able to argue against it.

“I will need more time.” You close your eyes tightly, wishing you could just disappear. “I'm trying to move things along as fast as I can but I won't be able to finish all the preparations before the end of the year. There's too much at risk.”

“We will be married by then.” It's over.

“It can't be helped.” You'd give anything to see Autumn rid of Beron, if the price has to be your freedom so be it. Still, you can't help feeling defeated, it feels like you're mourning a life you never even had the chance of living.

You don't know if Eris had any hope of finding love like you did but, even if he didn't, you know he didn't want to be chained to someone he didn't choose either. He had witnessed how awful his parent's marriage had been just like you did yours so he must have at least hoped for a companion of his choice or to stay alone.

“I've thought of sending you away,” you look up at him, surprised at his words, “but my father would order me to find you, and I'd have to obey him. Failing Beron's orders brings too big of a punishment for me and my family.” His gaze moves from the fire in front of you to meet yours, “I would hate to ever hurt you, doll, so I need to keep you here.”

If there was one thing you could respect about Eris was his commitment to keeping his family safe. You're not actually sure if any of them are aware of the sacrifices he makes for them - from what you've heard the family dynamic is interesting at best - but it tugs at your heart strings. You used to pray for someone to care for you that much, to protect you like this.

You wonder how things ended up like this. Maybe thinking you could have avoided this future when it was written for you when you were born had been simply a foolish delusion. At least Eris was one of the best options, as much as you hate to admit it. You'd at least not have to worry about him being violent with you or treating you like you were less than an animal.

“Well,” you sit up straighter and stare right into the fire, feigning nonchalance even through your shaky voice and teary eyes, “I guess we'll have to get used to each other.” No use crying over spilt milk. It was better to accept this reality sooner than later. “Being Lady of Autumn might still bring me some perks in the end.”

You might have to give up on your chance at love and to build a life for yourself, but you can at least help Eris change this court for the better. When you turn your head and meet his amber eyes you find an intensity you weren't expecting, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was proud of you.

“Already thinking of ways to rule my court?” The smirk on his face wasn't quite as cutting as usual. “How ambitious of you, doll.”

“Our court,” you clarify, “What's yours is mine, husband.”

He studies your face for a few moments with a glint in his eyes, noticeable even through the reflection of the fire. You're not sure what he's searching for. Any signs you'd back down or try to run away despite his warnings? Whatever it was, it seems he reached a conclusion.

“We'll rid this court of Beron,” he extends his hand towards you, holding his palm up, “and give it a new worthy ruler.” Another bargain. He wants to add to your former agreement, that one would disappear the moment you got married anyway.

“We'll make this a better place to live, a court we can be proud of.” You have nothing else to lose. You take his hand and feel the magic instantly. You're now bound to Eris in an oath you intend to fulfill at the cost of your life. You'd make him High Lord or you'd die trying.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

5 times you and Miguel walked away from each other and 1 time you didn't

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader notes: brother'sbestfriend!Miguel, soccerplayer!Miguel, college au, slow burn, somewhat mutual pining but written from reader's perspective more exclusively, SFW - only slightly suggestive (worst thing is probably a boner), fem reader (pretty neutral though), saying soccer instead of football felt so dirty but oh well, thank you for reading!! word count: 5.9k

You’re having your first lazy day in forever. It’s the first day in recent memory that you didn’t have something to do or somewhere to be. You’re just going to hang out in your apartment and watch your favorite shows or read for fun for once or whatever else you feel like doing. Because you don’t have to go anywhere, you don’t even take a shower, opting to stay in your comfy pajamas, not bothering with any makeup or hair effort, as you lounge around. 

You have the place to yourself now, but you share it with your twin brother Alex, the two of you lucky enough to go to the same university. 

When you eventually hear his keys scratching at the door, you’re sprawled on the couch reading a novel you’d left half-finished for ages despite actually really enjoying it. School really had a way of making you not read. Or at least never full books. 

As Alex opens the door, you’re surprised to hear him talking to someone else. You see his unexpected guest a moment later from your spot on the couch, your college apartment rather small after all. And you’re mortified. Miguel. Alex’s best friend, university soccer team superstar, ridiculously attractive Miguel. 

God, why did Alex not warn you he was bringing someone over? All it took was a quick message, for fuck’s sake. And Miguel of all people? Ugh. Well, it wasn’t like you could tell him. “Hey, brother dear, I have a huge crush on your best friend, so can I please get a warning next time he’ll be around? You know, especially so I’m not looking like a total mess when he shows up?”

He’d been coming over a lot recently actually. He and Alex were both on the soccer team and happened to share a few classes too, so their schedules really lined up. Usually, it was nice to get to see him. It’s not like either of them paid that much attention to you when they were hanging out, but Miguel was nice to look at. Even now, they seemed like they were coming back from a casual soccer match or something, and he still looked amazing. His thick, dark hair was messy in the way that made you want to run your hands through it; his t-shirt hugged his unreasonably broad chest and shoulders perfectly, and his sweatpants — fuck, his sweatpants — his ass looked miraculous as he turned to put his gym bag down.

Miguel’s looking at you as he and Alex step into the living room. “It’s Saturday, Y/N, and the weather’s finally fucking nice. Why’re you reading a book? You’re such a nerd,” Alex snaps as he plops onto the couch next you, pushing your legs off to make room. 

“I’m a nerd because I’m reading a book? Am I am tomboy because I’m not wearing a dress, too, or are we keeping it to one stupid superficial stereotype?” 

Miguel chuckles as he sits on Alex’s other side. “Cut him some slack, Y/N, he took a soccer ball to the head today. Might be making him even more of an idiot than usual.” 

You can’t help but worry; you love the idiot after all. 

“You okay? Was it bad?” you’re asking as you run your hand over his head looking for bumps. “I’m fine, mom,” he mocks, pushing you away. “And you? You asshole,” he accuses Miguel playfully. “‘Took a ball to the head’?” he repeats, then turning to you adds, “It was him that kicked it!” Miguel starts laughing.

“It was the perfect setup, man. Not my fault you were distracted.” “Whatever,” Alex says as he reaches for the video game remotes. Knowing them, it was time for FIFA.

You’re eager to hide with how you look right now anyway, so you get up to head into your room. “We didn’t mean to kick you out,” Miguel starts kindly. “ You don’t have to go; you were clearly comfortable here.” “Clearly comfortable”? God that sounded bad in your head. He was “super hot”; you were “clearly comfortable.”

“Thanks, Miguel. It’s fine. I was going to —“ but you don’t finish your excuse as you trip on the remote’s charging wire as you step across, falling unceremoniously to your face right in front of them. 

“Mierda!” Miguel yells.

Alex immediately asks, “You okay?,” but it’s Miguel who’s up and over you in the same instant.

“You alright?” he asks softly as his hands grab your hips to help you up. 

His hands on you were the last thing you needed right now. So much for composure. “Fine. Really,” you say, your breath shaky. You’re kneeling on your living room floor; Miguel’s squatting in front of you, close; his hands haven’t left your body even though you’re no longer prone. He just watches you closely, eyes beautiful and concerned. You stare back into them, and after a couple more shaky breaths finally manage to stand up and step away, looking anywhere but at him. “‘M fine,” you repeat. You turn away hurriedly and go the few steps to your room. Once safely behind closed doors, your face scrunches and your stomach sinks at the sheer embarrassment. 

~

It’s been days since Miguel was at your apartment, and part of you is happy for the lack of pressure but another part of you still gets a funky feeling in her gut at the idea that the last memory of you he had was of a clumsy mess. He and Alex have a game today, and pretending to convince yourself that you just felt like it today, you make yourself up more than usual for it. You’re actually pretty happy with your look as you head out to meet some friends at the match. 

They win. Miguel scores. Twice. Alex’s defense is probably the main reason for their clean sheet. 

So, hyped up on adrenaline and victory, they’re laughing and messing around with their teammates as a bunch of people approach the sidelines to congratulate them. Alex spots you and makes a goofy face, always so playful when he’s happy. He jogs over to you and gives you a huge hug.

“Stop, you’re so sweaty!” you squeal. He just holds you tighter and rubs his sweaty hair on you, laughing. When he finally pulls away, Miguel is standing right next to him, smiling at the two of you. “Do I get a hug too?” he teases. “I scored two more goals than he did!” 

You’re not sure if he’s kidding, and you’re sure the chuckle you give in response is somewhat tense.

But, stepping toward him, you just say, “Congratulations,” and wrap your arms around his shoulders without getting too close. Damn, they were like boulders. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist and closes the distance you’d maintained, giving you a surprisingly intimate embrace. You’re struck by the feeling of him around you. He’s sweaty, too, and you can smell his musk, but instead of off-putting, you find it incredibly arousing. You can feel the rise and fall of his breathing where your chest is flush with his. He’s so warm, and you just want to breathe him in and trace every ridge of his body. But the hug is already lingering too long to be normal, and you pull back a bit awkwardly. Miguel is still looking at you, a subtle smile on his face. 

He seems about to say something when a high pitched squeal right next to you startles you. 

“Miguel!” a very pretty girl yells at him as she approaches, unabashedly jumping onto his back. She’s in a cheer uniform. “Oh my god, you were so good!” Miguel’s so sturdy, her jumping on him didn’t throw him off physically, but his face looks a little flustered. “Uh, thanks,” he says politely, putting her down. She just giggles and grabs his arm as she compliments him again. 

You feel so awkward watching this, so you just turn around and walk away. You don’t see Miguel looking after you.

~

You’re at the after party with a couple of your friends. The soccer team was quite popular, and the victory parties tended to be good. You’re mostly having fun, but you can’t help but keep looking over to where Miguel is. Man of the match and man with that face, he was obviously the center of attention. People were coming up to congratulate him left and right. He handled it all so graciously. It shocked you how there was no arrogance in his demeanor; he was just the easygoing life of the party. 

You wanted to go talk to him too, but you’d already congratulated him and didn’t know what else you would say. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself again. You could go talk to your brother, who was right next to him, but he was busy flirting, and you didn’t want to ruin it for him. 

A bunch of people are dancing in the open space between you and Miguel, and the chaos lets you sneak long looks at him without his noticing. But when your friend leans over and asks, “Who do you keep looking at?,” you realize you have to be less obvious. “No one, just curious who Alex is flirting with,” you lie, proud of how quick you were with it. 

“You a jealous, protective sister type?” she laughs. 

“No, just curious.” “Is he?” “What?” “Protective?”

“Um, sometimes, depends. Why?”

“Because that guy over there keeps checking you out.” She nods toward an okay-looking guy chatting with someone on the edge of the dance floor. A second later, he was indeed looking over at you. “You should go talk to him!” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so interested.” “Why not? He’s hot! I’m pretty sure he’s on the team too. You don’t have to marry him, Y/N, just go dance! You’ve been weirdly tense all night.”

You look over again, and your eyes meet. Before you can do anything else, he makes the decision for you, walking over to you.

“Hey.” “Um, hi.” You exchange names and pleasantries, and he asks you if you want to dance. Without thinking about it, you glance toward the person you really wish you were dancing with. To your surprise, Miguel is already looking toward you. He looks less happy than before. You look back at this guy quickly, hoping neither of them noticed. 

You feel slightly bad thinking this, using this guy you weren’t super interested in, but you couldn’t help but feel it’d be nice if Miguel saw a side of you that might make him think of you differently, not just as Alex’s sister. It’s just a dance anyway, so, you accept the offer and head to the dance floor. 

You fall into a rhythm with the music, with the guy. The dancing is fun; the guy is fine. Your back is to Miguel, and you can’t resist spinning to catch another glimpse, doing it seamlessly as you keep dancing. Your breath catches when your eyes meet his. 

Miguel watching you from across the room is doing much more to turn you on than anything your current dance partner is doing, but you channel your new energy into your movements. It’s not a well thought out decision, though in the back of your mind you know who it’s for, but you start moving a bit more suggestively. You let your hips follow the music, let your hands come up to your hair as your body rolls rhythmically. Feeling especially bold, you even manage to meander closer to where Miguel is, giving him a better view. 

Unbeknownst to you, this unfortunately also makes Alex, now unoccupied, notice you for the first time. You don’t hear him leaning over to Miguel and saying, “Gross. I hate seeing my sister with random guys. Let’s go get more drinks.” He drags him away, and Miguel, unable to come up with a good reason not to follow, does. 

The next time you spin, all you catch is the backs of their heads.

~

The following week, you’re coming home from classes, and all you can think about is eating. You’d had to skip lunch to finish an assignment and couldn’t wait for dinner. 

When you enter your apartment, you find Miguel sitting on your couch. 

“Hey,” he greets. “Hi.” He’s sitting on the edge of the sofa closest to you, and he adorably shifts over to make room, as if you couldn’t just go around. You weren’t planning on sitting anyway, but now that he’s wordlessly extended an invitation, you do. “Where’s Alex?”

“Went to take a shower. We’re gonna play a couple games when he’s done.” He gestures toward the video game console. “Are the remotes charged?” you joke. “I hear it’s a hazard to have the wires across the living room floor.” Miguel chuckles lightly at your self-deprecating humor. He’s turned toward you, sitting in the middle of the couch, his elbow on the backrest as he occasionally messes with his luscious hair. “I felt so bad that day. Taking over your space and tripping you. When you looked so peaceful when we got here.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you laugh, amused but also masking your stirring feelings at the fact that he had thought about it at all. “I was just a mess that day. And I wouldn’t call my pyjamas peaceful, just comfortable. In my defense, though, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I liked your pyjamas,” he teases, and you roll your eyes. “What? I did! I’m all for comfy clothing; have you not noticed 90% of my wardrobe is gym clothes?”

“Yes, well, you can get away with it. You’re a guy, and you look like that,” you say, gesturing at his body before you really realize what you’re saying. You tense as soon as you do. It just slipped out, the conversation getting weirdly easy and comfortable with him. “Like what?” he asks, but he’s smirking, knowing what you meant. You just roll your eyes again. “No, c’mon, chula, like what?” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge, mirth in his eyes. You’re too busy reeling from the pet name to have mental energy to come up with a retort. You’re grateful for what would’ve otherwise been embarrassing: your stomach grumbling. Miguel looks at your stomach and giggles. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you say, taking the escape route and walking to the adjoining kitchen. He follows. “You can get away with it too, you know,” he says nonchalantly. You think you know what he means but look back at him questioningly. “The clothes. You always look good.” 

You’re glad you’re not facing him, your expression probably revealing your excitement. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He leans on your counter. “So what are you having?” “I don’t know, whatever we have. Haven’t had time to go to the store.” You’re rummaging through your cabinets. “I can make you something,” he offers. You stop and look at him. “What? I’m a great cook,” he shrugs defensively. “Have you never had my tamales?”

“It’s not about you being good or not,” you giggle. “There’s no reason you should have to cook when you’re just here to hang out.” 

He just shrugs again, but there’s a tinge of shyness in his typically confident facade. 

You turn to open your fridge, and he comes up right next to you. “Oh shit, you guys have jarritos. Can I steal one?”

“Yeah, of course,” you laugh. “Grab whatever you want.”

You didn’t think he would immediately… As you bend over to grab something from the drawers, Miguel reaches up to grab the soda, leaning forward. Both of you moving simultaneously, your ass presses firmly against his crotch. You both freeze in panic, prolonging the position, before you jump up at the accidental contact. His and your “sorry”’s and “I didn’t mean to”’s get jumbled together in the colossally awkward moment. Miguel looks down, then back up again looking startled. He scurries around to the other side of the counter, it now separating you. “Jesus, Miguel, I didn’t do it on purpose! You don’t have to put a barricade between us; it’s not like I’m gonna jump you!” “No, no, it’s not that! Fuck, it’s, uh, fuck…” He looks lost for words. His hand comes to his face, covering it in resigned embarrassment. His voice is a mumble through his obstructing hand, “I’ve a bd’ve uh sitch-ation.”

“What?” He uncovers his face with an exasperated sigh. “I have… a bit of a… situation,” he whispers, looking down.

“Oh… oh!” you say, realization hitting you. Probably largely because of the awkward tension, at least partially at the idea of you giving Miguel O’Hara a boner, you start cracking up. He just stares at you, deadpan, his hands coming to his hips. “It’s not funny.” “It’s a little funny.” His glare cracks the tiniest bit. 

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny. But it’s your fault!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Alex asks nonchalantly, coming out of his room, lazily drying his hair.

“Nothing!” you and Miguel say simultaneously.

“Okay… should I just pretend that wasn’t really suspicious?” 

“Yes,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, really. Just me being clumsy again.”

His eyes are still skeptical, but Alex just chuckles and nods, letting it go at the look on your face. He heads to the couch with an easy “C’mon, man” at Miguel. Miguel follows, giving you a sideways glance and tense smile. When he sits, he immediately puts a cushion on his lap. You grab the first thing that looks edible in your fridge and head to your room. 

~

Two weekends later finds you at another soccer team party. They’d lost this time, 2-1. Miguel scored their sole goal, and the other team’s second had been a sketchy penalty. If the victory parties were good, the defeat ones were wild. Most of the players, Miguel and Alex among them, were drowning their sorrows, especially after such a disheartening defeat.

You weren’t a player, but you had your own sorrows to drown, and you weren’t stopping yourself from doing just that. You’d hardly seen Miguel in almost two weeks, and the few times you had, he’d been cold, keeping interactions mainly to greetings and goodbyes. You didn’t know if you’d done something wrong, if he was still caught up with your little awkward encounter, or if you were just making it up, your feelings for him needing some outlet. Making up stories by constantly obsessing about him was as good as outlet as you could get sometimes. Alcohol was a better one now. 

A while into the party, you’re at the bar for your… you lost count… numberth tequila shot. You down it, lick the salt off your hand, and stick the lime in your mouth, cringing. 

Your eyes are still closed when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You open them and see Miguel standing beside you. “Maybe switch to water, huh, guapa?” he tells you.

“Why? M’fine,” you slur. 

“Maybe, but you won’t be if you keep this pace up.” “And how would you know?” 

“Just noticed,” he shrugs. 

You squint your eyes accusingly at him. You didn’t know what you’d feel next time you talked to him, but you hadn’t expected to feel this angry. 

“You notice me enough to watch how much I drink but not to say more than two words at a time to me for weeks?” He looks surprised. “Y/N…” 

You cross your arms and lift your eyebrows in an implied “what?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you just walk past him. You end up walking through the dance floor, and though it wasn’t your plan, you kind of like moving to the music. You’re drunk enough to the lack the inhibitions to just dance alone. You’re enjoying yourself, not even bothering to look back and see if Miguel was still there. A bit later though, you startle as you feel a hand on your ass. You turn and find a random guy you’ve never met before, smiling at you disgustingly drunkenly. You’re taken aback, your mind already a bit slow from the alcohol, so you haven’t decided yet how to tell him to fuck off by the time Miguel is in front of you shoving him away. He’s not overly aggressive but, even drunk, easily moves the guy away from you with an angry “What the hell, man?” 

The other guy looks seriously scared and just lifts his hands with a pathetic “sorry, Miguel.” 

“Fucking better be, what the hell is wrong with you?” The other guy stumbles away. Miguel turns towards you, and his expression melts from frightening anger to warm concern in two seconds. “You okay?” he asks, his hands carefully grazing your shoulders. You nod and lean into him. At your seeming comfortable, he lets his arms come around you. 

“Thanks,” you whisper in his ear.

“Of course,” he whispers in yours, and it sends a shiver down your entire body. You stare into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest. 

“Miguel?” 

“Yeah?”

“Wanna dance with me?” 

They don’t call it “liquid courage” for nothing. 

Miguel considers you for a moment, but a soft smirk is whispered across is sharp features. He nods slowly, and his hands move slightly further down your back. You close your eyes at the sensation of his hands running along your body. You run your hands up his chest slowly and wrap your arms around his neck. When you open your eyes, you see his crimson ones boring into you. 

You start moving a bit more as you focus on the music to relieve some of the tension you’re feeling. He follows your lead, and soon you’re dancing together much more easily. As a couple of songs go by, you’re both moving freely, staying close to each other the whole time.

You’re so exhilarated, and he seems as enveloped in you as you are in him, so the next time the beat calls for it, you let your body twist rhythmically in his grasp. Your back is now flush with his chest, your ass on his crotch, your hand reaching behind you on his neck, in his hair. His hands are firm on your hips, and when you roll them against him, you hear his whispered “Fuck, mami” in your ear and feel his arm come around your middle, pulling you into him. His hips move in rhythm with yours. You’ve probably never been so turned on in your entire life. You keep this up for a delicious while. You can feel Miguel is hard through his jeans, but he makes no sign of being embarrassed, just continuing to dance with you with expert hip movements that make your imagination go wild. Of course he’d be an amazing dancer. Of course you’d imagine what else his hips could do. 

You twist back in his embrace, coming to face him. He holds you close, and you bring a hand to his face. He leans into your touch. You move your face up slightly, and he seems to be following, moving his down. You’re so close, even think you feel your lips graze his, when someone bumps up against you, making you stumble. 

Miguel’s strong arms catch you, but the moment is gone, and a second later, he looks startled.

“You okay?” he asks, stepping back a bit, speaking loudly to keep his distance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, but he seems off. 

“Let’s get some air, huh?” 

You follow him outside, the sudden change in ambience making your head spin a little. You lean against the wall, and he puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“Sure you’re okay?” You nod but don’t say anything, maybe a bit drunker than you thought, trying to ground yourself. He leans on the wall next to you. His body is warm where it grazes your side. You can feel his gaze intermittently on you. You get a little dizzy again, and you lean onto his shoulder. He just lets you, and you stand like that for a while. 

His fingers graze the back of your hand.

“Want me to take you home?”

You nod into his body. He wraps a firm arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the party. 

You’re home before you know it, the whole journey a blur dominated by his warmth by your side. When you reach your front door, you lean on it and look up at him. His subtle smile elicits your full one. “Thanks,” you whisper. “’S no problem,” he shrugs. “You’ll be okay?” “Yeah,” you nod. You’re already sobering up. “You?”

He chuckles and nods. 

“I wasn’t the one downing tequila shots like water,” he teases. Your cheeks warm, and you look down as you chuckle. 

“Wasn’t that many…” 

He laughs.

“It was, cariño.” Again with the pet names. 

“I’m still surprised you noticed.” “I always notice you,” he responds without missing a beat. Your eyes snap up to his, and you see the longing there. 

You stare at each other for a heavy moment, then, drunk more on the sensations of your earlier almost-kiss than on alcohol, chasing that feeling, you lean up to try again. Your lips are a breath away from his when he looks down, effectively rejecting your advance. You pull away, mortified. 

“Sorry, I… sorry,” you stutter as you scramble for your keys. You turn to your door. “Y/N,” he whispers, his hand holding your wrist softly. “It’s okay,” you say, looking back him, wiping tears from your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything; sorry I misunderstood.” 

You quickly go inside and close the door. You lean on it, crying. Miguel, eyes closed, fists clenched, rests his forehead on the opposite side. 

~

Miguel doesn’t come around for a while. Even as days pass, you can’t stop thinking about your night together. Confusion, sadness, embarrassment — all mixing together into a terrible cocktail.

Another match day rolls around, and you can’t stomach the idea of watching Miguel play, of potentially having to talk to him after. You tell Alex you’re really sorry to not support him this time, but that you’re not feeling well. He worries over you a while, unhelpfully but adorably emptying your medicine cabinet onto the kitchen counter, looking through stuff, suggesting this and that, telling you to text him anything you needed that he could bring you after. 

A while later, you’ve just slumped down onto the couch, when your stomach sinks at the sight you’re met with. There, at the corner of the room, lie his cleats. He’d been cleaning them the night before and had clearly forgotten to put them back in his gym bag. 

“Fuck.” 

You lift yourself up, grab them, and head over to the stadium. 

When you get there, you pound at the locker room door, and it opens — of course, you couldn’t catch a fucking break — to Miguel O’Hara’s gorgeous face. Though he looks at you intently, you can’t quite read his expression. Then he yells over his shoulder, “Ale!” 

Alex jogs over and, upon seeing you, lets out the biggest sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank God. I fucking love you.” He reaches for the cleats you’re holding up to him and gives you a  bear hug. “Saved my fucking life, Y/N/N. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. “You don’t look as sick. You’ll be okay?” He’s clearly in a rush to get back but wants to make sure you’re alright. 

You nod and playfully shove his chest, pushing him back into the locker room. “You’re the best!” he yells over his shoulder as he saunters back. Miguel is still just standing there, all geared up for the match. It crosses your sick mind how good the uniform looks on him. 

“You’re sick?” he asks. 

“Nothing I won’t get over.” You offer him a weak smile. He’s nodding slowly, considering. 

“Stay for the match?”

“Miguel, I —“ “Please.” You’ve never heard him plead before. You’re head is nodding before your mind can catch up. He just nods too. “I’ll find you after.” And with that, he jogs back into the locker room. 

You’d never known ninety minutes could drag on for eternity, with a half-time’s worth of eternity in between. You’re sure you’re heartbeat was elevated the entire time, your mind and emotions reeling. What was Miguel going to say to you after the match? You had absolutely no read on him during your short interaction before. Then again, apparently you weren’t always great at reading him. 

Minute after minute trickles by. At the end of the second half, your team up a goal (yes, Miguel’s), the ref announces an unusually large number of minutes. You moan with everyone else, for your own reasons. What was a potential leveler compared to the leveling of your heart?

Slowly, the minutes pass. The other team builds a mounting attack; they get a good attempt; they miss. The whistle blows; the crowd cheers, and you, you’re frozen in place. 

You thaw yourself slowly as the players shake hands, go to their respective huddles. By the time they’re roaming the sidelines freely, you’ve only just managed to leave your seat. 

As you descend the bleachers stairs, you catch sight of Miguel. He’s obviously searching, halfheartedly ignoring the congratulations coming from all sides. His eyes eventually meet yours, and as soon as they do, he’s running over to you, meeting you much closer to the bleachers than the field. 

He comes to a stop right in front of you and just watches you. You just watch him. “Congratulations,” you say. He chuckles, lightly shaking his head.

“Thanks.” 

He takes a step closer to you. “Y/N…” “Yeah?” “I…” “Miguel!” you’re interrupted. “Congratulations! Way to pull it out!” “Thanks, yeah, thank you,” he says hurriedly, looking back over to you. “Listen, I just, I wanted to clear things up after how we left them.” You nod, worrying your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around you defensively.

“I didn’t want you to think that —“

“Congratulations, Miguel! Did it again, man!” And a slap on the back.

“Uh-huh, yeah, thank you,” Miguel responds, turning away, approaching rudeness. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, much more softly. “C’mere.” He grabs your arm and drags you around the bleachers, stopping when you have a semblance of cover. He’s looking around to make sure no one else is about to talk to him, and his worried looks right after he’s just won makes you laugh. The sound draws his attention fully back to you. He smiles at seeing you smiling. 

“Where can a guy get a little privacy, huh?” he jokes. “Probably not still by the field where he just scored the winning goal, I’m guessing,” you tease. He chuckles. Then he takes a deep, sobering breath. “Listen, Y/N…” 

His tone sounds apologetic, and it makes you immediately think the worst. He probably just didn’t want you to be embarrassed. Wanted to fix things so they wouldn’t be awkward if he hung around, which he’d obviously want to do given Alex was his best friend. 

Already fighting back tears, wanting to beat him to the punch to save face in whatever way you could at this point, you cut him off. “Miguel, you don’t have to explain anything or anything. I’m sorry I made more out of a good time than I should have. Please don’t let me keep you from hanging out with my brother even if I’m around, and I hope we can still be friends.” “What? No, that’s not… This isn’t about Alex. I mean, well it is a little bit.” He’s looking unsure. “Just keep things how they were before. It’s all fine.” “Is that what you want?” He looks serious. “What do you mean?” “Is that what you want? To keep things how they were before? To still be friends?”

“I… well… it’s what you want, isn’t it?” “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I tried to kiss you, and you pretty much said no to that. Twice.”

“I didn’t. Well, once, yeah I did, but it was only because I was worried you were too drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you. And, also, maybe a little bit because I panicked, okay?” He sounds more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him yet. “I was worried it’d be weird with Alex or that I’d fuck it up with you, and I just, I don’t know, I panicked. And the other time wasn’t my fault. I was going to kiss you if you hadn’t stumbled.” “Someone bumped into me!” “I’m not blaming you! I just, it just, it made me remember you were drunk, and I didn’t want to be like that idiot guy I’d had to push away a while earlier.” “You’re nothing like that guy,” you say sternly. “I…” He’s started to look frustrated, unable to find the words. He runs his hand over his face, takes another deep breath. “What if you try now?” “What?” “I don’t know how to tell you. So maybe I can just show you. Try again, and no one will bump into you. I won’t panic, and I won’t think of all the things that could go wrong. I’ll think of how I’ve been feeling since that night. Absolutely fucking miserable. It’s been eating away at me; all I could think about was making it right with you, but I didn’t know how, didn’t know if I should. But I can’t take it anymore, and if you feel the same way, then, fuck, let’s just stop getting in our own way.” 

“Miguel…” “Yeah?” “That was pretty good for not knowing how to tell me.” Your face forms the slightest teasing smirk, your eyes lighting up at the realization of what he’s telling you. “Shut up and kiss me already,” he says, rolling his eyes, unable to help his bright smile, pulling your body to his and bringing his lips onto yours. 

You pull him into you, reciprocating eagerly. He moans into your mouth, and you feel his towering body sink onto yours. His arms are tight around you, one hand cupping your head, bringing you close. His kiss is fervent, desperate but concentrated. 

You run your hands in his hair, and he chuckles gruffly, the sound muffled by your chasing mouth. You lose yourself in his embrace. You grip him tightly, breaching into his mouth, wanting to kiss him as much as wanting to be kissed by him. You could feel the beginning of a beautiful push and pull as your mouths move together, your bodies mold into each other’s. 

You want to kiss him forever, but some loud cheering nearby startles you slightly apart. Miguel is looking deeply into your eyes. He kisses you again, lets his forehead rest on yours when he pulls back. You’re smiling when you say, “You should probably get back. I’m sure people are looking for you.” He groans dramatically and hides in the crook of your neck. He kisses it before saying, “I just want to be with you.” 

You giggle, nuzzling his face with yours, holding him close, your hand in his hair.

“Yeah, me too.” He hums into your neck. He plants another kiss there, and one on your cheek on his way up, as he lifts his head again. His rough hands caress your face tenderly. 

“This is good,” he says simply. You laugh and nod. “Fuck ‘em. I’ll go over there at some point. Let’s just stay here a little while longer.”

“Okay,” you smile. 

Miguel leans back into you, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you. 

[merlucide]

BLLK BOYS W/ A THEATER NERD S/O

notes: HELP I H8 THE DRABBLES..🥲 (og ask)

characters: Reo, Isagi, Rin, Bachira

warnings: cursing?, implied fem, cringe

bllk mlist

MIKAGE REO

oh, he just LOVES watching your performances. 

Wether your on stage or not- he comes to EVERY show (drags nagi w/him too LMAO)

Helps you memorize any of your lines / helps you gather stuff you’ll need backstage.

He loves seeing you thrive in theater, and how happy it makes you ><

He always listens intently when you talk about your favorite broadway show, amazed how you remember even the smallest details

Sings your favorite musical songs with you, he will even act out the scene with you

Brings you a BIG bouquet of assorted flowers when the performance is over— rambling about how just wonderful it was

He is really proud of the effort you put into you craft, and the outcome always amazes him

Everyone had gathered on stage for the final bow, the crowd clapped and cheered. You smiled when you spotted your boyfriend holding up a limp Nagi. Reo clapped with a bright smile on his lips— and Nagi squinting at the bright lights. Everyone headed backstage and the crowd cleared, most left but close friends and family stayed and came backstage.

“Y/N that was wonderful!” You hear the familiar voice of your boyfriend praise, him running to you and hugging you tightly. He pecked your cheeks and held onto your arms. “My love that might just have been your best performance yet,” You snorted at his comment “Reo, you say that after every performance.”

“Well every performance is perfect my love,” Reo quips, his face into a smooth grin. Behind him trailed Nagi, who slurred a ‘good job’ with a thumbs up. Reo pulls back a bit and hands you a beautiful bouquet you can’t help but smile at. It was so pretty, full of tulips and lillies and smaller flowers complimenting the main ones.

“Thank you Reo,” you smiled before kissing his cheek. “Of course my love, just doing my job,”  <3

ISAGI YOICHI

oh he is so cute

You 100% get him into the world of theater

Thinks that it’s really cool how you’re passionate about this

Super supportive— tells all his friends about your plays and all of the stuff you like

His favorite broadway shows are Dear Evan Hanson and Hamilton— he thinks King George is hilarious

He likes being involved with your plays anyway he can—he will be try to be involved if he is free

Tells his family all about your performance!!

The whole family goes to your shows (≧∀≦)

Tries to memorize your lines / the plays lines with you but forgets them 💀

(or) Tries helping you with props/technical stuff but doesn’t know what to do so he just stands there 😭

“Yoichi- can you pass me the yellow please?” You asked from sitting on the floor, paint brush in hand. On the floor was props you were tasked with making. 

“Here,” Yoichi hands the paint bucket to you as he watches you pour some on your pallet. You guys were supposed to go out tonight but you still had some props you needed to finish— so Yoichi offered to keep you company. “Uhm, are you sure you don’t need any help..?” He nervously asks. 

“Oh no I’m okay, thanks though,” you happily replied, you already felt bad for canceling date night and didn’t want to ‘burden’ him with helping you. “Oh okay,” he sits back down on the floor and continues to watch you. 

“…Did you wanna help?” You slowly asked. 

“I dunno,”

“Yoichi”

“Yeah..”

You softly sighed and handed him a brush. “Here, you can paint the moon,” You stood up and grabbed the unfinished moon set-prop. Yoichi nodded eagerly as he started painting. His strokes were in all directions— you’d have to go over them later but you didn’t mind too much. He looked so cute with his brow slightly furrowed when he concentrated on painting the edges.

“How’s this?” Yoichi asks, pointing to his moon with a little grin. “It’s perfection,” you praise, which he responds with a soft ‘thanks’ as he admires his work. <3

ITOSHI RIN

lmao he does NOT get it 😭💀

like you showed him a clip of your fav musical and he was like ??? Ppl ACTUALLY like that..?? (Ignore him he’s stupid)

but SUPER supportive of your performances!! he just lacks artistic appreciation, aaaand he has as much creativity as a wet sock, so yk

When he comes to your performances, he always brings a small but pretty bouquet (he’s beet red when he hands them to you >< )

You have desperately tried to get him into the arts— which just continued to confuse him🫠

He likes Shakespeare though??? which is probably like the only plays he will willing watch (aside for yours ehe:3)

You call him your Romeo ;) (he gets embarrassed and gets mad at you LMAO)

Lmao he should’ve never voiced his ‘like’ for Shakespeare bc when ever he asks you a simple question you’ll end up going “To be or not to be, that is the question” (que rin groaning)

“Rin, you need to put more emotion into it!!” You exasperatedly said, flinging your paper up. You had asked Rin to go over your lines with you, which was a stupid idea to begin with. He ticked his jaw, fingers firmly pressing into the paper.

“tch. This is stupid,” Rin answered, glaring at you. You sighed, “I can’t feel the scene if you sound like a robot!”Rin huffed, his pride clearly wounded. He groaned and flicked the paper back and examined it again.

“What. do. you. mean he’s. been. lying?” Rin reads, his voice flat. 

You internally sigh, “I’m not sure, but when I asked him he was acting strange..” you spoke, already memorized your lines. “Could. it have. something. to do .with his. sister?” “No- he wouldn’t tell her about something like that… Unless!!” You clapped your hands.

“YAAAY!! I FINALLY NAILED MY TIMING!!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands excitedly. You then tackled Rin, who was sitting on your bed, catching his lips in a fat smooch. “Thanks honey, I really appreciate you tryin,” you praise, hands resting on his shoulders. 

“Tch.. It’s nothing..” Rin muttered, his hand coming to rest on your waist. “I’m never doing this again,” you snickered at his mood change  (he’s gonna end up helping next time you ask <3)

help Ik that was so bad 💀

BACHIRA MEGURU

AJHSNJANANNRNE 

HE MATCHES UR FREAK!!!!

LIKE HE GETS IT FR!!!

omg you wanna binge watch Chicago, Six, and Heathers? WELL SO DOES BACHIRA!

yall sing musicals together all the time like- yall are in character doing the choreography and all

He loves watching musicals sm

And he LOVES watching you perform/work in theater

Like- seriously goes to all of your shows, even rehearsals if he can

Gets super immersed in your performances- thinks it’s 10x better than any broadway show

Loves seeing your/the costumes- will definitely try to try them on (before he gets caught and gets in trouble lmao)

After every performance he takes you to go get ice cream- a little ritual you guys have :3

OH. And he tries to match his outfit to what your play is >< (keyword, tries)

He brings his mom to your plays and she whistles and claps so loud when the plays over 😭💗

“Y/N you were friggin’ awesome!!!” Bachira exclaimed, hands swinging yours back and forth. “I wasn’t even on stage for 5 minutes,” you snorted. “Well you were the best one there! Being a tree takes a lot of skill y’know!!” He grins, pulling you along faster. 

You finally arrived at the sacred land, Benny’s Ice Cream Parlor. Bachira ordered for both of you, handing you one cone of (Fav Flavor). You sat down on the bench, already licking your cone. Bachira put his foot on the bench, “Ahem, Ahem,” He began, lifting his ice cream up. “I would like to make a toast!,” You smile at his antics, waiting for what he’ll say next. “A toast to the best play in the history of the plays!” You snickered, raising your cone “A toast!” You said, ‘clinking’ your ice creams together. 

“Ah, being Tree #4 is no easy task…” You dramatically sighed, licking your ice cream. Bachira shook his head. “Tut tut..,” you both snickered, finishing your ice creams and heading back home. <3

bllk mlist

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @sharkissm @luvingshidou @kurona-theshark @soleilonthesun @duckydee-0 @rinitoshisgirl @someprettyname @nikomelo

kanakakannakkkse ive rewritten the Drabble so many times bro 😭😭 ARGH AJSNSNANANA

made August 22nd 2024

[tea-plantz]

Haiiiii! I recently read your anxiety head cannons and I’m like in loveee with your writing. If you don’t mind, could you do the same concept of the head cannons but with Ennui?

Thank you 💗💗

Aaa oh my god, thank you so much! That really made my day😭

I love Ennui, she’s so gorgeous oml, and she deserves some hcs as well! I’ve seen close to nothing about her, she does not get enough love >:(

~Ennui x Love emotion reader~

When you first appeared in the HQ as the new emotion representing love, Ennui honestly wouldn’t care. You were just another emotion, nothing special, she might even find you a little annoying. Something about the way you always seemed so hyper and talkative kind of pissed her off. You were just always so…. out there.

“You care too much about things”

However, as time went by, and Ennui got more used to your presence, she would tolerate you more and more. You were an extrovert (unlike her), and talked a lot to everyone, including her, causing her to slowly start getting to know you more. She even started to find your company…. quite nice. You would lay on the couch beside her as she scrolled on her phone, maybe even playing with her hair a little, or snuggling up to her. And even though she did find your flirtations to be a bit irritating, a small blush could still be seen on her cheeks.

Once the purple emotion came to the realization that she liked you, after some time of knowing you, she wouldn’t know what to do. She had never been in this situation before, and especially not with someone as vibrant and romantic as you. Ennui wouldn’t wanna admit to crushing on you, she would keep it to herself and try to act casually, although you did notice that she was avoiding eye contact a little more than usual.

The way you found out that she liked you was probably accidental. She might have fallen asleep on the couch whilst playing on her phone, and mumbled something in her sleep.

“Mmh… they are so flirty and annoying… but they’re so cute… ugh, why do I want them so bad?”

Then she went back to mumbling stuff in French. You, Anxiety, Envy and all the other emotions at the console just stood there, mouths wide open like a fish, and eyes as round as plates. When Ennui woke up a little later you took her somewhere private to talk about it, and boy was she embarrassed. It’s super rare to see Ennui look anything other than bored, but when you told her what she had said in her sleep, she looked totally frozen in place and flustered as hell. She had basically just told you that she likes you in front of the whole headquarters… yikes. Luckily, the feelings where returned<3

When you two finally started dating it would be like a super hyper and chill girlfriend duo. You would always be gushing about romance and love, talking a bunch and all that, while she would listen and nod along.

She takes sneak photos of you and keep them in a special album on her phone, I’m sorry-

Ennui would secretly really enjoy it when you got touchy with her, she might roll her eyes, or groan, but she actually loves it. Whenever you cuddle up with her, give her kisses or play with her hair, she feels all warm inside, and a small smile can be seen on her face. I also think she would find it sweet if you braided her hair, it’s not like she has the energy to do it herself anyway, it’s waaaay too much work. That girl doesn’t even pull her socks all the way up, like c’mon-

You guys play games on her phone, I hc that she is kinda obsessed with candy crush.

I feel like the only things she truly shows interest in openly is her phone, and you.

Ennui often tells you that you’re overly sweet, and kinda tease you about it. Like, not in a mean way, she just points out how romantic and all you are, and comperes you to a cupcake or something.

“Mon Dieu, you’re always so sweet, it’s sickening. You’re like a little walking cupcake, all giggly and cute”

Sometimes she kind of feels bad for how little effort she puts into anything, especially with you being so charming and romantic, so she would try her best to put in a little extra work. She’ll probably call you some pet-names in French, like mon amour, or mon chéri. That, and she’ll make sure to give you some hugs whenever she can, like she’ll wrap her arms around your waist from behind whenever you’re both standing by the console.

She loooves to lean on you!

Ennui isn’t usually phased by your flirting, she finds it cute and kinda cheesy. She might roll her eyes or smile a little, but sometimes, when you say something that really gets to her, she’ll stiffen up, her eyes go wide and she gets a dark blush across her face. I don’t think Ennui’s usually that blushy, but if you’re lucky, and use the right words, you get to see it from time to time. <33

She looks so Lilly with her eyes wide open, it feels cursed and cute at the same time

[moonstruckme]

Hey!! I’ve spent most of my day catching up on my reading goal for the year, on your blog. I love your writing!! I wanted to know if you could write something poly!marauders where the reader comes home from work early due to chronic pain (winter weather sucks sometimes), and the boys take care of them? Pls add your own spin however you see fit! Hope your day is going well! :)

And happy holidays!

Thanks so much lovely, you're too sweet <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Breathe, angel,” James reminds you, eyeing you worriedly as he sinks into downward dog. “Deep breaths.” 

“I’m breathing,” you sigh, following him down. The movement, the stress it puts on your legs and back, aches, but you feel better than you had when you’d come home. 

You weren’t expecting James to be here (he typically likes to get out of the house on his days off, too energetic and cabin-fever-prone to stay in) but he hasn’t let you have even a moment of peace since you’d come in the door, unannounced and several hours from the end of your workday. He’d first tried to get you to go on a walk, but the frigid weather outside is what had doomed you in the first place so he’d settled for pulling up a short, low-intensity yoga video on his laptop. 

A small part of you resents him for it, just a little. The smarter part of you is grateful. 

“Just a bit longer,” James says, likely sensing your growing discontent. “After this we can get you a warm bath. Or a massage, if you like.” 

You hum a weary thanks. Either of those sound great, but a nap would be spectacular. You want to evanesce. Sink into a sleep beyond pain. 

The serene voice on James’ laptop guides you into a cat-cow pose, but you’re only starting your first cat when you hear the click of the door opening. You turn to James in confusion. He won’t quite look at you. 

You recognize the loud clunking sound of Sirius kicking off his shoes a moment before he comes into view. 

“Ooh, yoga.” He’s smiling, but there’s a watchful quality to his gaze as he drapes himself across the sofa. “Mind an audience?” 

You shoot James an accusatory look. “Why’d you call him?” 

“Excuse me,” Sirius says, reclaiming your attention. “Do you not want me here?” 

You give up on the yoga, sitting on your mat. “I don’t want you to have to leave work,” you say quietly. 

Sirius tsks, sliding off the couch and moving closer to you. “I couldn’t have been productive while I was worried about you anyways. Figured I’d save my boss the money.” His smile slips, a tiny pucker appearing between his brows. “You alright for a hug?” 

You answer by opening your arms, and he gathers you up. He doesn’t squeeze the way he normally might, hands careful on your back, but it’s still nice. 

“How bad is it?” he asks, turning his face to mush the words lovingly into the side of your head. 

“Not bad,” you murmur. 

“I’d say it’s pretty bad,” James contends gently, “if you had to come home from work.” 

You turn your head to look at him, offering a sheepish shrug. “The yoga helped some.” 

James’ smile is lopsided, eyes flickering with relief behind his glasses. Sirius isn’t so easily convinced, loosening his grip on you so he can see your face. Despite how used to it you should be, it’s still an effort not to shrink under that gaze. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, if he finds it or he doesn’t, but a few moments later Sirius’ hands slide up to your face. He kisses the skin next to your nose lightly. 

“Let me make you some tea, sweet girl,” he says, standing. “You’ve had pain meds already, yeah?” 

You hum that you have, and James says after him, “Not the chamomile, it’ll just make her sleepy.” 

You try not to sulk as Sirius calls back, “I’m not new here, Potter.” 

James is trying to get you back into the yoga when the door opens a second time. If you hadn’t gotten there by process of elimination, the soft, considerate footfalls would have let you know who it was. 

“Oh, hi,” Remus says when he finds you and James already waiting for him. Pity softens his expression as his eyes fall on you. “How are you, dove? Is the yoga helping?”

“It was,” James grouses, though his little smile lets you both know he’s only teasing. He extends his arms out in front of him, beckoning with his hands. “Come here, give us a hug. She got to go first last time.” 

Remus doesn’t put up any argument. James stands as he comes forward, weaving one arm over Remus’ shoulders and the other under. 

“I am ailing,” you point out. When Remus angles his head on James’ shoulder to give you a concerned look, you add softly, “Not terribly, though.” 

Remus chuckles, pushing a spindly hand slowly up and down James’ spine. The other cups the back of his boyfriend’s head, sinking into his plush nap of curls. “I think you’ve worried him down to the bone,” he observes. 

There’s a noncommittal hum, followed by a muffled smacking sound as James kisses Remus’ shoulder. 

“Have you considered that I’m just soaking up all the hug I can get?” 

“Nefarious,” Remus murmurs lovingly. 

“I leave the room for two seconds, and of course a lovefest commences.” Sirius strides in with a steaming cup of tea. “It should be outlawed. I feel swindled and scorned.” 

“You got to go first,” James argues, but Remus extricates himself from his hold anyway, folding a leg under himself to sit on the couch. 

“Irrelevant.” Sirius sets your tea down on the coffee tables, using his free hand to wave James off. “Do either of you want tea?” 

“No thank you,” Remus says while James shakes his head. “You didn’t give her chamomile, did you? Because that will only—”

“No,” you all say, you rather mopily. 

You scoot towards the table and reach for your tea. Sirius settles into the couch, leaning his back against Remus’ side. 

“Alright,” James relents, shutting his laptop, “we can call it quits on the yoga. We were basically at the end of the video anyway.” His big hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Want one of us to get a bath ready for you, lovie?” 

A whole new ache starts up, right in the center of your chest. You set your tea back on the coffee table, too hot to drink, and lean your head on James’ shoulder. Your throat clogs slightly. So, so sweet to you. A bath does sound nice, but you’re not sure you can commit to it. That’s at least a half hour between you and sleep. 

“Thank you,” you say, making sure he hears the sincerity in the words, “but I think I just want to go to bed.” 

James’ sigh is so soft you think you’re not meant to hear it. “It’s a bit early for that yet,” he says, thumb swiping back and forth on your shoulder. “How about a massage?” 

“I’m tired,” you complain, and you try not to whine but a bit of it comes through anyway.  

“I know, love,” Remus says, leaning his elbows onto his knees so that his face is nearly level with yours, “but if you nap now you won’t be able to sleep tonight, and then you’ll be tired all over again tomorrow.” He reaches across the coffee table, the tips of his fingers brushing yours. “This is to help you, I promise.” 

You let your little sigh fan cool air over your tea, raising it again to your lips as you nod. 

“Go for the massage,” Sirius says. He raises his eyebrows at you, grinning like he’s letting you in on some sort of secret. “Trust me, babe. Jamie missed his calling with that one. Hands of an angel.”

You look over, and James is grinning so hugely you wonder if his ears pop. “Alright, fine.” He shrugs, feigning reluctance. “After I’m done with her, you can have next turn.”