#bc i like her ridiculously long hair too much

[mandoart]

considering black hair for this Woman

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

[softspiderling]

est-ce que je t’aime? | j.v

summary:

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to King’s Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didn’t expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Storm’s End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!

word count: 8,2k

author’s note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on reader’s and jace’s relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.

“Thank you Ser.”

Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jace’s letter.

This was how you and Daeron received news from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at King’s Landing together, but you knew that things hadn’t been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.

You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaena’s lady in waiting.

Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jace’s voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.

He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.

“Helaena and Aegon were married,” Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jace’s letter.

You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeron’s arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.

“To whom?”

“To each other.”

“What?”

“Look,” Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.

“Helaena must be devastated,” you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldn’t imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.

“I cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,” Daeron said with a frown. “Am I even still her son?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chastised him. “Your mother sent you away for your own good.”

Even as you said those words, you didn’t quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?

With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jace’s letter you had left on the table.

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

“So you have thought about marrying my nephew?”

You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.

“Go sit and write to your mother,” you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.

It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jace’s letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.

It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.

“Urgent news from King’s Landing!” the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.

“Your father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in King’s Landing.” Lord Ormund’s eyes found you. “Both of you.”

It didn’t take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldn’t believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldn’t imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?

Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You weren’t sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jace’s letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You weren’t quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserys’ funeral or the latest at Aegon’s coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeron’s chamber to distract yourself.

The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.

“I’m sorry about your father’s passing,” you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I have been living without a father for quite some time,” he replied wryly, glancing at you. “I suppose it will not feel any different.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. “I know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.”

Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.

“Are you nervous to see your kin again?”

The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.

“Kin? I haven’t seen them in nearly ten years,” he scoffed, starting to pace. “Mother writes to me once in a moon, Helaena’s letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.”

“They are still your kin, Daeron.”

“By blood, yes.”

“Is there any other way to be kin?”

You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.

“Yes. You.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.

“You came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this… Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “You are my sister in everything but blood.”

“Oh Daeron,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.

“Swear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to King’s Landing,” Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an arm’s length, his eyes searching yours.

“I swear it,” you told him, a smile on your face. “Swear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.”

Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.

A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. “Everything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.”

“Very well, we will be right out,” Daeron answered with a nod.

The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeron’s hand, standing.

“I will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.”

Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I will meet you outside the city walls.”

You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to King’s Landing on dragonback.

You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the King’s funeral rite and Aegon’s coronation.

Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.

“Will you miss Oldtown?” You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.

“Nothing keeping me here,” he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.

“Are you sure this is King’s Landing?”

The journey to King’s Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half day’s journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.

Daeron glanced at you before looking around. “Surely mother’s doing.”

The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.

“The Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.”

Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.

“My Lady, if you follow me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.

“To her chambers, my Prince.”

“She will stay with me.”

“Daeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,” you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.

“I shall not meet my mother alone.”

“Daeron-“

“Please,” Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.

The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.

“They just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.

“They have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?”

Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeron’s siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.

“My boy.”

“Mother,” Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.

Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his mother’s arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you weren’t ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh Gods,” you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. “Helaena.”

“I missed you,” the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.

“You look well,” she said. “Very beautiful.”

You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. “So are you, my Princess.”

Helaena smiled brightly at you. “You must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.”

“There is time for that later,” Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaena’s smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.

“Thank you,” she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. “Thank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.”

You wrapped your arms around Alicent. “Of course my Queen.”

She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.

“My Princes,” you said, bowing. “My condolences for your father.”

“Thank you,” Aemond said. “He was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.”

His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.

“Are you excited to be King, my Prince?” you asked, hoping to change the topic.

He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.

“Uh, yes, of course, my Lady,” Aegon said, clearing his throat. “Now that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.”

That made you pause.

“Jace and Luke were here?” You asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,” Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadn’t known that.

“When are they expected to return?”

Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you weren’t aware of.

“They are not,” Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. “Rhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.

“Do you not think all of this odd?” you asked, your voice low. “I know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?”

It was the day after your arrival in King’s Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeron’s room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to King’s Landing.

“Maybe thing’s have changed,” Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. “We have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jace’s letters. You couldn’t believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t rush to King’s Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.

As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasn’t how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.

Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daron’s hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.

With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you weren’t sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.

The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.

You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeron’s hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.

“Sister!”

Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.

“Are you well?” He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.

“I’m fine, Daeron.”

“Daeron.”

You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.

“Do you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as “sister”?!”

You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to King’s Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to King’s Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldn’t Rhaenyra and Daemon return to King’s Landing following the King’s death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didn’t even notice someone approaching you.

“Eavesdropping, are we?”

Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.

“Gods, you scared me,” you said, shaking your head. “No, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didn’t want me to come in.”

Clearly.

Aemond didn’t say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to King’s Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.

“I should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,” he said, his voice slow. “What is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?”

Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?

“Daeron is like a brother to me,” you said, voice indignant. “I care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.”

“So you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?”

The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.

“Of course, he’s the rightful heir, is he not?”

Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.

“What happened?” you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“They accused me of impropriety,” Daeron muttered. “Said that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.”

“We’re not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,” you sighed.

“What is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,” he argued. “How can I call a woman my mother when I haven’t seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?” Daeron hissed, his voice rising.

“I know you’re upset,” you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. “It’s hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.”

“Did they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.

“How is my brother faring?”

You shut the door to Daron’s chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.

“It’s hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasn’t been this… Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.”

Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I was hoping he would accompany me,” he said. “But I do not think he sounds well enough to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Storm’s End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.”

What?

“Forgive me but who else would he be loyal to?”

Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.

“Rhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.”

He paused, eyeing you carefully.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Aemond’s eye swept over you once more and he nodded.

“Yes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,” he insisted. “It will be a short flight on Vhagar.”

“Very well,” you said, a glance on Daron’s closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Storm’s End wouldn’t be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.

You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.

“Come,” Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.

“Soves, Vhagar!”

With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasn’t long before you reached Storm’s End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.

“Just in time,” the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,” Aemond said, fixing his doublet. “I am here to talk to Lord Borros.”

The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.

“Prince Aemond, what can I do for you?”

“Lord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.”

“King Aegon, you say,” Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And what do you offer me for my loyalty?”

You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.

“Your four daughters… They are still unwed?”

A smile spread on Lord Borros’ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.

“Indeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?”

Aemond inclined his head. “Not only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.”

Your eyes widened at Aemond’s words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.

“Excellent, excellent,” Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. “Let us discuss-“

“My Lord!” A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. “Another dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Storm’s End.”

“Ah, that must be my nephew,” Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.

The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” the knight announced. “Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didn’t seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.

Luke’s step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.

“Lord Borros...” Luke started. “I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,” Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. “Which is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.

“What’s your mother’s message?”

Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemond’s mouth tugged up.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?”

Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Luke’s silence.

“Go home, pup,” he sneered. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.”

Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.

“Wait, my Lord Strong.”

You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.

“I will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said. “No. I want you to put out your eye.”

He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.

“As payment for mine. One will serve,” Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Luke’s direction. “I would not blind you.”

Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.

“Plan to make it a gift of it to my mother.”

Luke’s eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. “No.”

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.

“Give me your eye!” Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. “Or I will take it, bastard.”

“Aemond!” you shouted, panic evident in your voice.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. “The boy came as an envoy. I’ll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”

Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.

“Aemond, wait,” you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You’re not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?”

“He cannot get away with it, not again.”

Aemond’s voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.

“This is a thing from the past!” you reminded him. “Did you not gain a dragon from it?”

“You were not present when he took my eye!” Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Storm’s End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.

Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.

“Are you coming, or staying?” Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.

“I am coming.”

You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.

The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.

“Aemond stop!”

Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.

“What is it you’re trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“That boy needs to learn how to fear me,” he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.

Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.

The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagar’s jaws.

“What are you doing?!” Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.

“Saving your life!”

You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Luke’s shoulders.

Vhagar’s shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Luke’s shoulders.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly, no!”

You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.

“We’re vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.”

“Arrax is faster, I just need to get back home. It’s not that far!” Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldn’t even see you.

“That’s what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you don’t trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.”

Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.

“Ilagon, Arrax!” Luke instructed. “Īlon jorrāelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.” Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.

Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.

The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.

“Luke,” you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. “Down there.”

Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.

Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. “Lykiri, Arrax,” he said, leaning his head against his dragon’s. “Īlon jāhor jikagon lenton aderī, syt sir, ziry iksos daor ȳgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.” Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, it’s not safe. Calm down, my boy.

Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.

“Are you well?”

Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.

“No. But I’m unharmed,” he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.

“It is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,” you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.

“I am sorry,” you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.

“Did you know my uncle came to Storm’s End to kill me?” Luke asked, his voice small. “Did you come to make me lower my guards?”

“Forgive me?”

You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.

“I cannot speak of Aemond’s intentions,” you said truthfully. “Only of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revenge…”

Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.

“I’m only here to help you,” you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. “Arrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?”

Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Yes he would.”

“See, you’re in no danger,” you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. “Now take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.”

Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left King’s Landing.

“You have grown into a fine young Prince,” you told him. “I almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borros’ hall.”

Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. “I’m almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.”

You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.

“How is Jace?” you asked, your chest tight. You couldn’t believe how it was mere moon’s turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.

Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.

“Jace is… Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my mother’s claim.”

Your forehead creased.

Usurp?

“Pardon… Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?”

Luke stared at you, mouth agape. “… Yes. He stole my mother’s inheritance.”

You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.

“Now everything is falling into place… Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!” You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. “Daeron. I’ve left Daeron at King’s Landing without telling him that I’ve gone.”

You didn’t want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.

“I’m sure all will be well,” Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.

“You should get some rest,” you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. “It might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.”

Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.

Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.

Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew he’d want to go home as soon as possible.

“Luke, the rain has stopped,” you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.

“It should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.”

Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.

“It is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.”

You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you weren’t sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didn’t need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragon’s neck gently.

You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.

“Come, we need to leave before the weather turns again.”

“Luke, no,” you argued but Luke shook his head.

“You saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,” Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Arrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.”

You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.

“Very well.”

The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.

“Mēre mōrī kipagon gō īlon issi lenton, issa valonquar,” Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. “Soves.” One more flight until we’re home, my boy.

Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.

“Īlon issi bē konīr, Arrax. Sepār mirrī tolī.” We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.

Luke’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.

“Prince Lucerys!”

A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.

“Her Grace has been awaiting your arrival.”

Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. “Take us to my mother.”

The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadn’t seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.

“Prince Lucerys, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.

“Luke!”

“Mother!”

Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldn’t believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.

Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerys’ face with her hands.

“What happened?”

“Aemond and Vhagar were already at Storm’s End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath… When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadn’t intervened…”

Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.

You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.

“You’re Helaena’s lady in waiting,” Rhaenyra said.

“I was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.

“Mother! Luke!”

You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought he’d be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.

“What are you doing here?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??

[reidmania]

love you like a sailor | spencer reid

summary ; situationship’s, friends with benefits, and no commitment arrangements are great until lines began to blur and feelings become too real. Especially with Spencer.

warnings ; MDNI, mentioning of sex and fingering even tho theres no actual smut. situationship, messy feelings, friends w benefits, reader is avoidant of her feelings, spencer is in love, reader is in denial, mentions of alcoholism but more in a joking way, commitment issues, insecure reader, anxiety, overthinking, talks about relationships ending, talks about death for like a second fem reader. This is ridiculously wrong and i honestly had a horrid headache while writing it so it’s probably crap… angst, fluff, hurt, comfort, this is the whole shabang.

an ; WONT YOU KISSS ME ONNN THE MOUTHH AND LOVEEE ME LIKE A SAILOR. i wanted to write this so bad i couldn’t wait. this is for my avoidant attachment girlies, this is definitely a bit out of character spencer, very self indulgent.. Look at that list of warnings my gosh. this is stupidly wrong and probably not great. BUT ENJOY POOKIES. bc u so kindly encouraged this @parfaitblogs 🎀🎀🎀

"Get some rest." Hotch mutters out as he walks past, your gaze follows him from where you had been sitting cross legged on your desk chair. You and the team had gotten back from a case only a couple of hours ago -- to say it had taken a lot out of you was an understatement.

You were tired but the response left your lips almost instantly as you tilted your head. "Why would I do that when sleep deprivation works so well for me" You hummed out with a soft smile on your face, his head shook as he rolled his eyes. He didn't bother pushing your argument as he made his way towards the elevotor.

It was inching later into the night, a lot of the team had already left to return home to their families, or partners, or even to outings with their friends. You stayed in place at your desk, ignoring the way the arm of the desk chair digged uncomfortably into your knee as your legs remained crossed.

"Sleep deprivation does not work well for you." You jumped slightly as your head tilted up at the voice and feeling of hands on your shoulders, a smile warmed your cheeks. The papers on your desk long forgottened as Spencer's hands brushed gently over your shoulders, down your arms. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, hair out of place from the amount of times he had dragged his hand through it, from you running your fingers through it while he slept on your shoulder on the jet.

"You get grouchy all day, drink an unhealthy amount of cofee until you end up falling asleep on your desk, or on Gacia's beanbag in her layor." He reminded, he bent down to press his lips gently against the top of your head.

Your chest tightened, a playful roll of your eyes and a smile later your pushing the chair away from the desk to twirl it to look at the man standing over you. You could see the tiredness behind his eyes and it made your heart sore in a way that left your stomach uneasy.

Your gaze holds his, "You just catch me at a bad time" You resorted.

He snorted, letting out a soft, 'mhm' along with unconvinced nodding, as his hand reached out for yours. You took it wordlessly, uncrossing your legs as you stood. You didn't need to ask to know what he wanted, he was inviting you home with him.

Your free hand worked to grab your bag off the ground. You eased into the feeling of his hand tighting its hold on yours. His fingers worked to move between yours, interlacing them as the two of you walked in sync to the elevator.

"Take out and doctor who?" He asked, looking at you as he pressed the button for the elevator. You turned your head to look at him cheeks heating more than you wanted to admit when you noticed the gleam in his eye.

This thing. Whatever it was between you and Spencer was overwhelming in the way it had you feeling too much and not enough at the same time. It was a constant game of give and take, push and shove, one step forward and three steps back, it all remained unspoken between the two of you.

"Only if we can get thai from that good place on forth." You revert back to the conversation as your eyes maintain on his. His hand squeezes your gently as the two of you walk into the elevator when the doors opened. His body turned to face yours and you had a familiar feeling building in your stomach.

The feeling you dreaded more and more everytime.

His free hand rose to your face to push away stray hairs from your face. His head leant towards your, foreheads placed against one another and his hand fell from your face to your hip. “We can do whatever you want, angel” He muttered out.

The words made your stomach turn. You couldn’t tell if the feeling was good or bad. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel when he called you that, it wasn’t the first time either.

They slipped off his tongue as if they belonged there. Easily and simply. Everything was so easy and simple for him, you were almost jealous of it.

The elevator dinged. Moments later you were in his car, his phone in your hand, connect to the aux of his car. You fingers scrolled through the playlist he had made specifically for car rides — or any times he was with you.

It was filled of your favourite songs, songs that reminded him of you, songs that you had sent him saying he should listen to it. It was your playlist.

You settled on a song before closing his phone placing it in the centre console. You placed your hand onto his that rested on your thigh, your thumb, feather touched, running over the prominent veins that cascaded their way down his hand.

His eyes stayed switching between the road and you as you mumbled out lyrics to the song playing through the radio. His eyes danced over the features on your face momentarily, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip when you met his eyes. He offered you a soft smile before returning his focus on the road.

There was a feeling that consumed your entire being. You pushed it down and ignored it to instead enjoy the moment with Spencer. Whatever that meant.

By the time you had gotten food, got to his, and finished eating, it was nearing midnight. The feeling of tire you had only an hour or so ago had subsided completely as watching doctor who ended up with you curled in his lap, head hidden between his neck and shoulder as his hands smoothed the back of your shirt.

You waited for the movement of encouragement, you waited for the hinting signal that he wanted more right now. You were waiting for his lips to trail down your neck or for his hands too low on your back, or too high on your thigh for his touch to remain innocent.

It never came.

His hands stayed soft and sweet in their movements. You pulled away from his neck, eyebrows pushed together in itching confusion. He met your eyes, eyebrow raised, puzzled at your expression. His hands paused on your back, waiting for you to elaborate on whatever it was that was bothering you.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you wanted to bring up the unspoken silent agreement between you two. You couldn’t even explain what the agreement was if someone asked, you would be loss for words. It was just something you and Spencer both knew and never talked about.

That this wasn’t going to happen.

You and him.

The two of you would continue passing comments and compliments in private at work, being each others safe space after a particularly hard case, you would continue coming to his house to watch doctor who, and eating way too much take out.

You would continue fucking in the bathroom of whatever bar the team decided to go to, where spencer would ramble about how unsanitary it was to be doing so while curling his fingers inside you. You would continue kissing in elevators and in the passenger seat of his car when no one else was around.

You would continue falling asleep at his house, in his bed, in his clothes, leaving way too early in the morning leaving a note.

It could never be more than that.

You and Spencer weren’t supposed to be more than that. You had that decided in your head the first time he kissed you in your hotel room on a case months ago. It was a simple innocent conversation and then he kissed, and you kissed him back.

Now the lines around your unspoken agreement were fogging. Every time you fell asleep in his arms you could feel the lines being erased more and more until they had been nothing more than a faint outline.

He noticed your lack of words as his hands squeezed your hips softly. He studied your face as his twisted into something you could only describe as conflicted. He opened his mouth to talk but nothing came out.

But the look in his eye told you everything you needed to know, your face fell flat. “Spencer” you spoke warningly but it didn’t matter, the words were being spoken. The question was being asked.

“What are we doing here?”

His words left his lips quiet and meaningful. They held the emotions he tried to ignore for your sake. The words hit you like a ton of bricks, immediately sending your mind into a frenzy.

‘What are we doing here?’

‘What are we doing here?’

‘What are we doing here?’

The words replayed in your head as your stomach twisted up in denial. How were you suppose to know anymore than he did?

You deflected, shrugging your shoulders. “Um.. Watching doctor who” You said, eyebrows pinched. You knew exactly what he meant, he knew you did, he knew this game. He had been playing it with you for months.

His hands remained on your side as you reverted from his touch. Shutting down in the way he had seen you do probably a hundred times. You would make yourself small, and avoidant of everything you felt beyond surface level.

He mumbled out your name, in a way that caused your heart strings to tug. His mutter of your name came out like a warning sign, like he knew you knew what he meant.

“Spencer” You muttered back as you moved out of his grasp to shuffle off his lap, instead on your knees on the couch beside him. You were sure your tone showed exactly how disinterested you were in having this conversation.

It would only end one way.

You knew it would have to happen eventually, that there was only so much time the two of you could dance around it, but you wanted to stay in your bubble a little bit longer.

“Please.” He begged.

You weren’t sure what it was he wanted. To have this conversation? a label? To end it? You didn’t know and you weren’t sure you wanted to either. You and him never spoke about your feelings for each other, but it was evident you both had them.

The difference was he indulged in his feelings while you ran away from them.

It didn’t help when he was looking at you with the softest pleading eyes, his hands reaching out for you. It made you almost forget every ounce of common sense.

Almost

“I think I should go” You breathed out as your head turned away from his. You saw his face fall in your peripheral vision, making your heart feel as if it was ready to shatter into a million different pieces, each one covered in his name.

His hand tucked under your chin turning your head to face his. His eyes locked on yours and you swore every ounce of your self control was tested in the way his eyebrows furrowed sadly and his eyes pleaded with you.

“You don’t have to go.. Just talk to me..” He muttered out your name, thumb rubbing over your chin, before slowly it trailed down your bottom lip to pull it out from its place under your teeth. “I need to know, sweet girl.” He said gently as his thumb returned to its place on your chin.

“We wouldn’t work.” Your hand wrapped around his wrist that held his hand to your chin. You tried to keep your voice strong but it betrayed you as it came out quieter than you wanted. Your eyes stayed locked on his, the tension between the two of you suffocating.

His eyebrows deepened, “Why not? We worked before, we work now.” He spoke, his eyes holding every emotion you refused to let yourself feel. It was almost infuriating.

Your head shook in his hold. His words were touching parts of your mind that you avoided even attempting to approach. His eyes remained pleading at you.

“It’s different. You know it is. Relationships are different. It gets messy. We don’t need messy- We’ve had enough messy for a lifetime.. or three” You try to joke to deflect to bring the conversation back above the surface level, it didn’t work as you saw his eyes flash with something.

“This already is messy.” He said, his teeth gnawed at the gums of his cheeks, as he stared at you. He was right, you knew he was right.

“We are messy. this, us, whatever this is, its messy. Whatever feelings you are so scared of confronting are messy. That doesn’t go away just because you refuse to acknowledge it” His words were gentle yet spoke like one of his scientific rambles. He spoke every word like the was evidence to back it up.

It made the words fall flat against your tongue as your head dipped down into his hand. He didn’t make an attempt to push you to look at him, instead his hand moved gently to cup the back of your head, encouraging it towards his chest.

You gave in to his touch with ease, like muscle memory. Your arms wrapped under his arms as his hand stayed in place cupping the back of your head as his fingers ran over your scalp hidden by hair, his other resting around your waist.

“You know sailors right?” He muttered out, voice almost a whisper as his fingers curled softly in your hair, fingernails scratching your scalp soothingly. You nodded into his chest despite the confusion of how that had anything to do with what you guys were talking about.

He hummed at your nod, “They spend their entire lives at sea, everyday, every night. They dedicate their entire lives to the sea because they love it. They love it regardless of the storms, or the dangerous currents.” His other hand trailed over your back, under your shirt his warm hand against your soft skin.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t know what he was trying to say.

“At least 2,000 sailors die and sea each year, but they die happy because they died doing what they love. They died in the one place they dedicated their entire lives to, despite the storms or the dangerous currents. They don’t let the chance of a tsunami stop them from perusing what they love”

Your head pulled from the fabric of his shirt, furrowing your eyebrows slightly. You didn’t want to admit the fact that even though you were confused, him talking relaxed your muscles and the intensity of the emotions coursing through your body.

“So what?” You huff, eyes squinted as you look up at him.

His lip quipped slightly, “So, no matter how much you don’t want to hear it. I love you.” He said, his words came out sure and honest. The intensity in his tone so pure and careful.

You didn’t say anything as his words sent shockwaves through your body. You didn’t know what to say. It was easier to ignore his obvious feelings for you when he wasn’t saying them looking into your eyes like that.

“Like a sailor. I love you like a sailor” He huffed, finishing his point.

Your eyes twitched downwards, “You know most sailors are alcoholics so their judgements isn’t really something to go off” You mutter out, “They don’t care about the dangers and risk because they are stupid and drunk half the time to deal with the loneliness”

He snorted, he couldn’t help it. “Yeah well, Im not an alcoholic. Stupid maybe, but not an alcoholic” He said. Your head lifted to meet his eyes as a scoff left your lips.

“You aren’t stupid, you know you aren’t stupid.” You muttered. He smiled, his hand on your back encouraging you closer towards him.

“Then trust me.” He spoke.

Your eyebrow raised. He didn’t stop there. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you, god id rather lose my entire IQ and everything else than ever hurt you — Yes there will be hard times, of course there will, but we work through it. There is no reason why we couldn’t make us work. I love you. You know I do.” He pushed.

You paused for a moment, “Spencer” It was warning.

“You love me too. No matter how much you try not to or deny it. You love me” He just kept pushing and his words stuck something, causing your ribcage to ache as your heart thumped against it.

“Its not that simple-“ He didn’t wait to hear your argument as his hands cupped your face. “I love you, do you understand that? I love you. You love me. I love you, how many times do I have to say it before you believe it? What will it take for you to let me love you?”

Your lips pursed, “Stop talking”

But he didn’t.

“You love me, just admit it” He pleaded as his hands cupped your jaw. It made it clench in his grasp.

Of course you loved him, that didn’t make it easier to let him in, it didn’t stop your mind coursing with every single way that this could ruin everything between the two of you. The years of friendship, the dynamic, everything could fall apart.

He sighed when you didn’t answer him. His hands fell from your face and you instantly felt the burn from the cold air around you that replaced them.

“We have a 50/50 chance.” He breathed out as he leant back from you. His hands stayed reaching out for your own. The screaming in your mind telling you to run and leave now was ignored when you fingers intwined with him.

He made so easy to stay.

He watched you open your mouth to argue, but he cut you off. “Yes, there is the chance that we wont work out, not that i see it but realistically there is that chance. However there is an 100% chance that we can work through whatever issues arise. There is no question about whether I love you enough to stay through hard times. All you have to do is trust me. Take the chance and trust me.” He spoke clearly. His eyes glazed over with emotions he tried to downplay.

“There is nothing that I don’t want to know about you, there is nothing about you I wouldn’t fall completely in love with” He said quieter this time.

You breath caught in your throat. Your mind racing with contradicting feelings. Nothing you were capable of putting into words as everything you tried to keep buried inside you rose to the surface before you could stop it. The look on his face told you enough to know he wasn’t going to drop this, there was nothing you could do to push him far enough away for him to stop wanting you all the same.

That was terrifying, it was confronting and overwhelming. It was too much.

Your body was quick to move towards him. You didn’t want to say you threw yourself at him, but you basically did. Your lips were on his and your hands were tangled in his hair. Every emotion and feeling you couldn’t admit out was made all too clear in the way your lips pressed against his.

He kissed you back with the same intensity. His hands pulling you closer as his other cupped your jaw, fingertips curling into your hair. Every unspoken word. Everything you tried to deny made clear in your lips against his.

“I love you” You said, chest heaving when you pulled away from his lips, your forehead falling against his as heavy breaths left your mouth. His hand stayed on your jaw and you leant into the touch. “Im sorry— I love you, you know I do. I know I do — I- You are so- I love you” It comes out as a ramble

“You idiot.” He muttered, shaking his head. A wide smile deeming place on his face. His hand dragging you towards his lips once more.

“I love you like a sailor, even though that analogy is cringey, and sickeningly sweet. I love you” You breathed out once his lips pulled away from yours.

He only grinned wider. “What happened to them being stupid drunks?” He teased, mocking your earlier words as his hand came to push a strand of hair out of your face.

You shrugged, “Im okay with being like a stupid drunk when it comes to you.”

[ma1dita]

james potter x reader please!

so, in this one james and lily survive but they realize that they aren't for each other and decide to get a divorce or whatever it is in the wizarding world. so harry spends half of the week with james, and half with lily and her new partner, mary macdonald (yes, i am a marylily shipper)

so, reader is harry's new primary school teacher and baby boy loves her!

one day, james picks harry up from school and meets harry's favorite “miss pretty,”

turns out, she was in the same class as james (different house, ravenclaw preferably) but he never really noticed her bcs all he ever thought about before was quidditch, his friends, and lily evans

ooooh, harry setting his dad up with reader would be amazing!

james potter x ravenclaw!teacher!reader

wc: 1.8k

a/n: no warnings, unedited. only one ravenclaw mention; thank you for the req love! sorry for the wait

—

Harry J. Potter is undoubtedly James’ son. From his unruly hair that can only be salvaged by a thick swipe of Sleakeazys, to the glasses that slide down the tiny bridge of his nose, and more evidently as of late—the mischief that runs through his veins, there’s really no doubt that this troublemaking 6-year-old is his.

No blood magic or Muggle fraternity… ehem, paternity test needed.

So there he sits in a too-small, sunshine yellow kiddie chair in the hallway of Harry’s classroom because he’s been called in for a parent-teacher meeting. The chair part wasn’t necessary, but Harry’s playing pretend to be a waiter at a 5-star restaurant that his mommy said Lily was taking her partner Mary to. And whatever Harry says, goes for the most part (which is exactly why he’s in this chair in the first place. He could paint a picture of how red Lily’s face got over the phone when she yelled at him over their baby getting called in for misconduct).

It all must’ve been a misunderstanding, or something he’s yet to find out the reason for, such as why little Harry’s pretend Michelin star establishment has the waiter flying food over in an airplane, complete with bumbling engine noises and his arms sticking out as he runs down the hallway. 

Classy.

“H, I ordered extra fries with this burger!” James says in a ridiculously indignant voice, pretending to huff and cross his arms and he almost cracks a smile when his little one comes giggling down the way back to him, “Coming right up, Daddy!” The other, much older parents that pass by the empty hallway are less enthused, but well, James Fleamont Potter and shame don’t belong in the same sentence, much less a lifetime. 

Tiny airplane arms graze the construction paper Hungry Caterpillar that lines the hallway, painted handprints waving back at little Harry as he runs full speed, until the door opens and BOOM!

James hears laughter instead of tears so when he abruptly stands up, knocking the small yellow chair over (and the purple side table he had all his imaginary food on), albeit trying to come off nonchalant, he’s relieved. What he’s more surprised about is the pretty lady that’s whirling his boy around in her arms.

“Harry the hurricane! Just in time to mix things up and sprinkle some energy back into my day huh?”

You’re dressed in a light pink vest and a long skirt that Harry’s hanging off of like the monkey bars at the playground and you seem to think nothing of it as you stick your hand out for him to shake, “Mr. Potter, thank you for coming in!”

“Oh love, James is fine I—” “DADDY! SAY HI TO MISS PRETTY!”

Quite right, he thinks. There’s something charming about you that he finds himself trying to figure out, hair tied messily on your head, different marker stains on your hands, and a stray holographic sticker that says “What a Star!” seems to have found its way to your abdomen. He thinks that if the professors at Hogwarts were this beautiful, he’d actually spend less time in detention.

The tot is grinning ear to ear and almost bouncing as you crouch down and gently take his hands off your skirt and into your own with a velveteen smile, “What did we say, hon? When we’re inside the classroom, we use our inside voices. Soft like a warm breeze, hmm?”

“But Miss Pretty, I’m not in the classroom yet!” Harry says cheekily as he points to his light-up sneakers standing toes away from the doorway. The boy goes running in towards the back of the room to go play with the building blocks and James has to bite his tongue when he watches you pinch your nose before taking your place at the desk in the front of the room.

“Well hello then, Miss Pretty,” he says with a smirk, throwing his blazer over the back of the thankfully adult chair and rolling his shirt sleeves up as he takes a seat. It’s quiet in the room besides the sound of Harry pretending to be Godzilla on a poor imaginary city in the background.

You stare at him a bit sideways, a beat of silence occupying the space between you, and then a snort escapes you—unladylike, but oh, what a woman. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

He blinks. Harry’s block towers crash to the ground and it sounds like James’ hopes of this going anywhere outside the classroom, a reverberating sound that drops with his heart falling to his ass, “Say what now?”

“Dear Godric, you’re still the same as back at school!” you scoff, leaning back in your chair and kicking your legs up on the desk (that he admittedly takes a peek at, but anyways); clearing his throat he’s so sure there must be some sort of misunderstanding—how could anyone overlook someone as stunning as you?

“I should’ve known, to be honest, when a mini-me of you walked in here on the first day, oh—the look on my face, I swear Lily’s gonna get a kick of this when she comes by next week, she was worried that you were coming in and not her anyways.”

The furrow in his brow is like a faultline right now, wondering how in the hell all of this has gone wrong in the last few minutes from the door, “Don’t bother with anything that woman says,” and then you’re laughing because, “Funny, from what I remember, you bothered her no matter what she said.”

And look how that turned out 7 years and a divorce later. 

Co-parenting with Lily Evans-McDonald is not for the weak, after all.

“Why am I even here?” James says exasperatedly, eyes flickering to the ceiling and then to his son who’s doing airplane arms as he kicks down his blocks. You cross your arms almost smugly, and he hopes you don’t take offense, which he clarifies by the frazzled look on his face and the hands he runs through his hair—”Your son called me stupid in class yesterday…”

Dear Merlin.

“And he said that his daddy was the one who told him to say it.”

A wheezing noise leaves his chest and he’s in disbelief, eyes whipping between you and his darling boy and the fact that he’s smack in the middle of looking an outright fool when it comes to this parenting all because of—

“You do know I didn’t mean it like that it’s just—”

You’re grinning as he loosens his tie in a panic, “We didn’t learn the alphabet like that back in our day?”

“I MEAN WHO CHANGES THE ALPHABET SONG? Truly!” James blubbers as he tries to cover his ass and somehow he’s the one who feels like he’s in trouble with the teacher. 

Perhaps he is, though this was not the original scene he had in mind walking in here. He takes a deep breath once you give him the same look you did Harry about his inside voice and—Godric you’re good at that—”And obviously…obviously I didn’t know you were his teacher.”

“Oh? Does that make a difference, Mr. Potter?”

You’re biting down on a perfectly plump bottom lip and his eyes are still wide and he can’t do anything but laugh.

“How asinine of me. You’re a Ravenclaw if I remember, right? Used to study with Moony all the time…” James mutters like he’s discovered something monumental and then he whispers your name, and it sounds as soft as you—something unearthed and new. He likes the way it sounds coming from his mouth and by the quirk of your lip, you do too. “How could I forget you?” 

The two of you chuckle like how children share a secret and it’s all too confusing for his bundle of joy that comes bounding past the seats and pushing off his father’s lap. 

“Oof—” James wheezes as he gets the wind knocked out of him, hunching over in pain, “Careful H, holy sh—” He swallows down the rest of his thought as you raise an eyebrow at his language, instead scooping Harry into your arms and sitting him on the edge of the desk.

“Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that at Harry’s age, his brain is like a sponge—there’s a lot for him to learn and he’s obviously a lot like his daddy, so Daddy’s going to have to be more conscious of what he has to say.” 

Oh the irony.

“Daddy will then, yeah?” he chokes out, restraining himself at the joyous look on his kid’s face when Harry says, “Miss Pretty, can you be Daddy’s teacher too?”

You pat the boy’s head and pinch a chubby cheek, “He’s got a lot to learn too, right Harry? Daddy was always in detention when we were little too.”

James is stirring in his seat and feeling hot under your gaze as he watches you interact with his son. He kind of regrets letting Lily take the reins with all of Harry’s parent-teacher meetings because clearly, he’s been missing out.

“Daddy was also Head Boy, but okay.” The two of you are giggling at the disgruntled look he gives your comment and James feels outnumbered, but not in a way that bothers him. If he’s being honest, he can understand why Harry was so intent on always getting his homework done right.

A while after, you all walk towards the door and Harry’s proudly walking out with a “Dinomite!” sticker on his forehead as James and you catch up on trivial things and then…

“DADDY! YOU RUINED THE DINNER!”

Harry’s pointing at the overturned table in the hall that he seems to have missed earlier and James cringes as he feels an imminent tantrum—if you call him a hurricane wait until he starts crying like a tornado siren. But you come to the rescue and bend over to shake his shoulders, “It’s okay Harry that just means you can make Daddy dinner again!” The little one is rubbing his eyes and whining a bit more softly and his father is looking at you like you’re an angel on Earth.

“That’s our cue to go,” he laughs, squeezing your arm and shaking his head, “Wish I could bring you hom—That’s not. That didn’t come out right,” he stutters, “I mean that you’re kind of a miracle worker and clearly doing better than how I fare sometimes with him. I think we’re too alike.”

“You’re doing great and he’s an amazing kid,” you reassure him, pulling out a sticker and pressing it onto his lapel. It’s of a triceratops and says “No one tops you!” He reads it and smirks, the famous James Potter smolder coming out to play and you roll your eyes. Harry is tugging at both your hands and when you look down at him, he’s hopeful and looking at you with determination he must’ve got from his mother.

“Since Daddy’s ruined dinner would you like to teach him now Miss Pretty? He’s got a lot to learn like you said.”

You’re at a loss for words, trying to stutter your way out of this one but James thinks it’s the best idea he’s ever heard.

After all, like father, like son.

“Think I could even go for extra credit if I’m allowed, Miss Pretty.”

[eddiesxangel]

You and Eddie taking one of those romantic bubble baths together in a big jacuzzi and he shaves your pretty pussy for you

Tw: pregnancy

My brain went to reader being pregnant bc they can’t reach bc of their baby belly.

He would be so gentle, helping you into the water making sure you don’t slip and fall. He would put in the jets for you bc he knows your back has been aching from the weight of the baby. Once he also got in he would let you soak for a bit before hand and massage your feet and ankles. He would let you lean up against him and just hold you until you asked him to help shave out of the blue. It has been so long and it was getting long, longer than you liked, and Eddie’s seen everything anyways so why not?

“What no, baby I like your little bush” he smirks

“But that bush is not so little anymore it’s too long you won’t been be able to find my pussy in this jungle I’m growing.” You huff

“Baby you’re being ridiculous, let’s just enjoy the rest of this bath and we will go to bed and I’ll show you how good of an explorer I am.” Eddie laughed.

“Baby please! I don’t feel sexy anymore I just wanna have this one thing” you pout.

“Woah woah woah. Don’t feel sexy anymore? How is that even possible? You’re the sexiest woman I know. You have all the curves a man could dream of… especially now bc your boobies are getting bigger and your ass is getting bigger and knowing your growing our baby… fuck your are my superwoman”

You try and hide yourself in Eddie’s chest but he doesn’t let you. He knows you don’t take compliments very well.

“Look at me baby” you look up at his eyes. Yours were staring to water, the pregnancy hormones were really bad and you cried at everything now. “You really want me to do this for you?” Eddie countered.

“Please” you sniffled.

“Okay baby.” He kisses your head before stepping out of the tub to get your razor and shaving cream.

When he got back he plopped you up on the side of the tub so he could get a good angel to not cut you.

Once he was finished you were really aroused. Having Eddie stair at your pussy, and touching it was getting you worked up. Eddie could see how the blood had rushed to your pussy, making your lips fuller. And now with the hair gone he could see how swollen your clit had gotten and now wet you were. He couldn’t help but lean in and kiss you there but he couldn’t get a good angle because your baby got in the way.

“Come on mama, I gotta treat this pussy right after threatening her with a razor. Gotta show her how much I love her” Eddie pulled you into the bedroom and you had one of the best orgasms of your life

🤭

[justmediocrewriting]

okay but thoughts on sanji x reader where she gets jealous bcs he flirts with every woman he sees and she’s scared to confess because she doesn’t know if he likes her or just loves to play a flirt

Tell It To Me Straight (Because I’m Going Crazy) {v.s}

Summary: it was just like you to fall head over heels for a guy at first sight, only to later realize said guy was the world’s biggest flirt. It would also happen to be your luck that this same guy would join your crew — and now you had to deal with feelings and other things that were equally as unpleasant.

Genre: angst, fluff

Requested: ✅

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: insecurities, pining, Sanji (that’s a warning, right?), angst with fluffy ending ❤️

A/n: anon bless you for requesting my husband Sanji. I love this man so much. This actually took me entirely too long to write and I’m so sorry for that, writers block has been hitting me like a fucking train. Anyway I hope y’all enjoy even tho I feel this one might be a bit shitty ❤️✌️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Red painted lips curved into a smile, hair pulled into a classy updo, high rosy cheekbones, and donned in a dress that hugged every curve just right, the woman was truly beautiful, and when the dim lighting of the tavern reflected off the pair at the bar, you couldn’t help but feel that she looked too good next to Sanji.

It was a reality that was painful but long since accepted by you, the fact that you’d never truly be good enough for the charming man — but acceptance didn’t curb the cinching pain within your chest, or the burning jealousy that flickered to life in your gut and heated the underside of your skin.

You pursed your lips as you watched the two exchange murmured words and laughs, and fury burned hot in your lungs when the woman brought a hand up to swipe painted fingernails along Sanji’s forearm — Sanji, predictably, didn’t usher the woman away, and your next heartbeat was incredibly painful when Sanji instead leaned into the touch.

It was utterly ridiculous, the way you burned with flaming jealousy — and honestly, you weren’t sure if you were more angry with Sanji’s antics, or the fact that they affected you the way they did, even though you had been aware and exposed to them from the start. Sanji was a flirt, through and through, and it didn’t matter if the woman he flirted with was ugly or gorgeous, he just enjoyed the act of it — and this very fact put you in a position where you had to constantly remind yourself that just because he showered you with compliments and called you pet names didn’t mean they were genuine, or that you were someone special to him.

You’d also thought that acknowledging this fact would chase away the deep feelings you harbored for the man, and in the beginning, it actually did, but Sanji always found a way to drag them back to the surface.

Sanji was tall, he was handsome, and he had a way with words that could make any woman melt, you included. When you’d first encountered Sanji at the Baratie months ago, you had been utterly and hopelessly drawn in by these very traits of his, and still to the day, you found yourself stuck to him like a magnet. And it infuriated you from the inside out.

Because you’d never even asked for it, and the only chance at relief had been stolen away from you when Luffy invited Sanji to the crew, and the man actually agreed — and for the past few months, you’d been plagued with so many emotions that it gave you mental whiplash.

The center of this inner turmoil also didn’t help any. From the moment Sanji locked eyes with you, he was spewing compliments and sweet nothings at you, and looking at you with these eyes that made you squirm in both the most unpleasant and pleasant ways; you’d never had that kind of attention from a man, especially not from a man as attractive and damn sophisticated as Sanji, and it was just as exciting and exhilarating as it was flustering. It was no surprise you’d fallen as fast as you had — anyone would, should they get the time to really be around Sanji for a prolonged period.

You had even once considered admitting your feelings to Sanji; the prospect of confession had swirled into your mind the first night of his joining, when the crew was locked on the path to the Conomi Islands to retrieve Nami. You two had fallen into conversation late into the night, swapping muted stories in the comfortable air of the Merry’s galley, and Sanji was so attentive, so alluring, and his eyes… his eyes were locked onto yours, as if you were the only girl in the world, and there was something within their depths, something that had you wondering if he’d felt the same sensation you had when you two had locked eyes in the Baratie.

They had you wondering, entertaining, if he truly thought of you in the same way you thought of him.

But that notion was quickly tossed away the night at Cocoyashi village — because you noticed that Sanji gave those eyes to nearly every woman he met, save for the ones who were underage, and it hit you so heavily that you were not special to him at all that you nearly lost your breath. From that point on, you swore away your feelings for the man, and promised yourself you’d never let yourself be mislead or disillusioned by his flirts and charms again.

Except, things didn’t really go according to plan.

Because no matter how much you acknowledged the truth of Sanji’s flirtatious disposition, it still affected you — you would still feel so warm and fuzzy inside when he smiled at you, or when those soft endearments and compliments slid past his lips, or when he’d softly stroke your elbow to announce he was passing you aboard the ship…

Everything he did made you jittery and warm.

And you fucking loathed it.

“Are you alright?” Nami’s soft voice and gentle touch to your arm broke you from your scathing thoughts, and you tore your eyes away from the events unfolding at the bar to blink at her.

“Uh, what?” You asked, a little dumbly, and the redhead’s brows furrowed a little.

“I asked if you were alright.” Nami iterated, and you took in a sharp breath, a part of you so desperately wanted to flick your eyes over to Sanji, just to see what was unfolding — but you resisted the urge, and instead forced a smile to your lips.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… spacing out, I guess.”

Nami didn’t look convinced, and your heart stuttered just briefly when she glanced in the direction that you had been previously staring, and a strange sort of look shadowed her eyes. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything else, and instead took a sip of her drink. Now that you’d been pulled back into the present, you were aware of Usopp and Luffy bickering about making “subtle changes” to the Jolly Roger, and you could hear faint snores from your right — sure enough, when you turned your head in the direction, you pinpointed a sleeping Zoro nestled a few feet away from Nami. Part of you wanted to smile, but the thought that Sanji was still at the bar with that woman dulled your ability to do so.

Don’t do it, you warned yourself, but despite the seething voice in your head, you still turned your focus back to the bar, and sure enough, Sanji was still entertaining the woman.

“Jeez, all he was supposed to do was get drinks. Guess we should start sending someone else to do that from now on,” Nami huffed from beside you, and all you could do was nod numbly, because at the moment your throat felt too tight to possibly push words through. Sanji’s lips split into a beautiful smile, and moments later your ears were graced with the rumbling timbre of his laugh, and despite yourself you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine from the pleasant sound. The sight of his dimples and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes made your heart stutter in your chest, and in that moment, all you wanted was for him to be looking at you like that — to be on the receiving end of that smile and those eyes once again.

Just then, in a moment that was equal parts mortifying and electrifying, Sanji turned his head and locked eyes with you; your breath caught in your throat, and for an irrational heartbeat, you swore that Sanji had somehow telepathically received your desire to be looked at and followed the command, and you wondered if your feelings of burning jealousy and desire were reflected on your face. You forced a small smile to your lips and held up your near-empty bottle in one hand while gesturing to it with the other, silently reminding Sanji of the real reason he’d went to the bar in the first place.

Sanji’s expression changed from confused to realization in seconds flat, and you watched in growing anger as he addressed the woman once more and murmured what you assumed was some sort of departing quote; then he skimmed his fingertips over the length of the woman’s forearm before he turned back to the bar and grabbed three bottles by the neck in one hand and turned on his heel to stalk back to your table.

You tore your eyes from his and downed the small bit of liquid still in your bottle; the bitter taste and satisfying burn gave your mind something else to focus on.

“Sorry about the wait, my sweets. Here are your drinks.” Sanji said smoothly, placing a sweating bottle in front of Nami and then placing one in front of you as well. You tried not to look at him, but your eyes were drawn to his long, dexterous fingers by the light shining off his ring in just the right way.

Anger stirred in your gut at the way he apologized for the wait as if it wasn’t entirely his fault. You bit your lip and brought your hand up to grip the neck of the opened bottle in lieu of yelling at the cook, and downed a few swallows as you watched Sanji take a seat just across from you. Your eyes connected briefly, and you seriously wanted to rip out your chest because of the way it bloomed with warmth.

This was going to be a long night.

————————————————————————

You giggled into the skin of Nami’s neck as you both stumbled side by side; your breath tickling her neck caused the other woman to giggle profusely as well, and walking now felt even more difficult than it had before.

Behind you, Usopp and Luffy also walked side by side with one arm slung over the other, Zoro walking not too far behind them and perfectly, irritatingly balanced — screw him and his inability to get drunk.

The leader of your merry little pack was Sanji, guiding the rest of his drunken crewmates with a confidence and swagger that only he could possess. It kind of pissed you off — but it also made you really, really warm at the same time. And a little wet, but you blamed that on the alcohol thrumming through your system. It was easier that way.

By the time you’d all made it back to the docked Going Merry, Usopp had keeled over and thrown up a total of two times, and had to pull a deadweight Luffy to their sleeping quarters. Zoro was quick to follow their lead and enter his own room, with the assertion that he was going to “get more sleep.” As if he needed more.

“You comin’ to bed?” Nami slurred at you, and you shook your head; you were drunk, yeah, but you weren’t exactly tired at the moment.

“I think I’m gonna go hang out in the galley.”

Definitely not because Sanji would more than likely be there, prepping the rations for tomorrow’s breakfast as he did every night. But by the raised brow and smirk Nami sent you, you knew that she knew that’s exactly why you were going.

“Alright, don’t have too much fun.” Nami teased with an affectionate bump of her hip, and you glared at her back as she swayed her way to your shared room. When you stumbled to the galley, Sanji was there, as you’d predicted, a towel thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously separated a myriad of fruits and vegetables and grains. When you entered, he gave you a charming smile, one that made you extremely weak in the knees. It seemed that the buzz of alcohol had taken away your previous irritation with the cook, and all you could feel now was a warm sort of fuzzy fondness for him — one that you were far too used to feeling.

“Hello, love. Looking for something?” Sanji asked, his accent tickling your ears in the most pleasant of ways. You loved his accent; it just made him all the more handsome and charming in your eyes. You returned his smile with one of your own and head shake.

“Nah, not really. Just wanted to hang in here for a few.” You said, padding as gracefully as you could to the sofa. It took some maneuvering to slip yourself behind the hanging table, but you were able to do so without too much fumbling. Getting drunk wasn’t something you indulged in often, and your lack of stability and coordination was a major factor to that, but your drunken mind was just as unstable as your physical body, and you were quite prone to mood swings — that’s what you were going to blame your next actions on, anyway.

“Jus’ like watching you do your thing. ‘S nice.” You mumbled, and the smile Sanji sent you warmed you from your head to your toes, and you didn’t even have it in you to hold back whatever could be showing through your eyes as you rested your chin in your palm and stared at him.

Sanji turned his focus back to his prep, and he worked while you watched in a companionable silence. As he worked, your mind began to race — your train of thought wasn’t exactly clear or obvious, and the track was definitely a little misshapen, but as always, it was Sanji on your mind. You watched his fingers, his face, his arms, his everything, and you just thought about him.

You thought about the soft little smiles he sent you, about the crystalline blue of his eyes, how easy it was to get lost in them. You thought of the delicate Cupid’s bow of his lips, of the way the parted and formed sentences that were perfectly articulated to muddle your brain and chest. You thought of his hands, large and warm and dexterous. Of his caring disposition, of the way he was always so attentive to the needs of his crew. Your heart felt as if it was swelling within your chest, and you had to force yourself to look away from him lest it completely explode.

But Sanji didn’t seem to understand that you were seconds away from combustion, because he had abandoned his prep in favor of leaning against the island counter straight across from you.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart? You seem lost in thought.”

You snapped your eyes up to meet his, and he was looking at you like that again; eyes soft and brows relaxed, lips pulled into that little smile — you swore it must be love on his face. You immediately became angry with yourself, and instead of answering him, you demanded,

“Why do you do that?”

Sanji looked taken aback, and his throat worked in such a tantalizing way as he swallowed a couple times, confusion written clear on his face when he spoke. Your anger was momentarily replaced by a very warm feeling in your gut.

“Why do I do what, love?”

“That. Talk to me that way.” You said, flapping your hand wildly in a gesture. Sanji’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, an action your sloshy mind couldn’t help but track and froth over. His tongue looked so soft and pink.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Sanji asked, and in a show of bashfulness that you’d never seen from the cook, broke eye contact to focus on his hands — which he quickly busied one by swiping imaginary dirt from the surface of the island counter he was leaning back against.

“No, not exactly.” You said, lips rather loose from the alcohol. “I just don’t get it.”

Sanji’s brows furrowed and his hand halted in its movement, and rather than waiting for him to respond to that, you began to ramble.

“I mean, it’s just confusing for me. You look at me in this way, and you talk to me like that, all gentle and kind, and it makes me feel special and like I mean something to you.”

Sanji was beginning to look a little bit uncomfortable, but at the moment, your brain only had the capacity to really take your own feelings into consideration — and right now, what you were feeling was confusion and anger, and you needed the answer as to why. So you rose from your seat, knocking your hip into the edge of the hanging table as you did so, but even the shock of pain lacing through your abdomen wasn’t enough to stop your advance. When you were only inches from the man, you rose your hand in a fist and pushed an accusing finger into his chest.

“And you even had me feeling like maaaaybe you felt the same way as me, but was that true? Noooo.” Vivid memories of the night in the galley, when you’d first wondered if what you felt was reciprocated, flew through your mind painfully. You knew your words were slurred and groggy, and you knew you were spilling everything right now, but damn it, it just wasn’t fair.

“It’s not true, and I know it’s not, because you act the same way towards every pair of legs you come across. I-I ju-just—”

You’d started off strong, or as strongly as you could given your drunken state, but now there were tears in your eyes, words cut off by a wet sob, and the anger in your chest had been replaced by a heavy pain. Desperation clawed your mind fiercely, and you just needed to know.

“I’ve been torn ever since we met — I don’t want to feel this way, but you always manage to give me that hope, only to t-take it a-away again. J-just tell me Sanji, please — tell it to me straight, because I’m going crazy!”

Sanji was completely silent, his lips parted in a small ‘o’ as he stared at you with wide eyes. Your finger was still stuck to his chest, and you pulled it back quickly when you noticed, but you kept your eyes fixed on his in a weak glare.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Sanji’s eyes softened and his shoulders slumped with the force of the breathy laugh he released. Sanji hung his head, the laughter still bubbling from his throat. You took a small step back at the reaction, confused and heated with something akin to embarrassment, and the courage that the alcohol had given you seemed to have leaked out at some point, because now all you wanted to do was run; answers be damned.

When Sanji glanced back up at you, bright eyes slightly obscured by wisps of blonde hair, your heart skipped a beat; the smile on his face was small but genuine, and when he spoke, his voice sounded halfway exasperated and half way relieved.

“I’ve been pretty stupid, haven’t I, love?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. You knew you looked a lot like a fish, what with your eyes wide and your lips soundlessly flapping, but your throat just couldn’t produce any sound — and that ability was further stunted when Sanji gripped your wrists in his large, warm hands. Using the gentlest of tugs, Sanji pulled you forward until your nose bumped into the broad expanse of his chest, and his hands released your wrists in favor of sliding down to grip your hips softly.

Your entire body froze, skin buzzing and mind drawing blank, and the only thing you could really focus on was the rise and fall of Sanji’s chest, his warmth, the spicy cedar of his cologne, and the hold he had you in.

“Oh, darling… I’m sorry. I never even noticed…” Sanji cooed to you, chin grazing against the top of your head as he did so, and you were definitely about to spontaneously combust right there in the galley. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t moved couldn’t do anything else aside from simply short circuit in Sanji’s arms.

“I’m just flirty by nature, love, that much is true.” Sanji said, and he gently pushed you back only far enough so he could hook a finger beneath your chin and tilt your head up. Your lips were now a hairsbreadth from his, so close that you could feel every undulation of his breathing. Your heart flipped and twisted in your chest, and your skin heated, your gut tightening in a mix of anxiety and arousal that left your mind reeling.

“But all those other pairs of legs, they’ve got nothing on you. You’re the only girl I’ve got eyes for.”

Finally, you found your ability to speak — but your words were still very weak, dampened by a mixture of utter confusion and disbelief. There was no way this was happening, right?

“If I’m the only girl you have eyes for, why do you flirt with every one you see?”

Sanji’s smile was wide and dimpled, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that way that always sent your belly aflutter, and you could feel more than hear his words —

“Because I didn’t know the girl I had eyes for had eyes for me, too.”

[venmondiese]

HIDDEN TOUCHES

summary: Aemond decides another fruitful payment for his eye, which he has been craving a long time. in that, he makes lucerys watch how he does it.

request from my lovely @qyburnsghost

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen. warnings: 18+ MDNI, DARK THEMES, targcest, oral (f receiving), exhibisionsm, p in v sex, forced voyeurism, rhaena x lucerys (mentioned), they are all of age bc of my mental health, no luc*mond -- ye olde enemies to lovers

note: this def got me out my comfort zone, so here it comes!! aemond x rhaena must be one of my fav ships probably. For my sake, and bc i won't write such things, all of the people involved are of age, and i didn't picture luke as his actor because he was very much a child. i assure you that luke is NOT envolved on the sex more than watching TT so... enjoy reading!!

“Prince Aemond”

Aemond turned to the hallway to see, and his only good eye took the image of her. Pompous, with her pink dress and her braids prettily decorated with some pink ribbons. She looked ridiculously pink.

“Lady Rhaena.”

He, on the other hand, was all dark. His attire black from head to bottom, except the small gold details of the embroidery of a dragon on his clothes. His boots were imponent every time he walked around, and his eyepatch was no different colour. 

The only similarity between both was the silver hair and the purple eyes.

“I see you and your…” he searches for a word, mockingly walking closer, his arms behind his back. “Kin, have come back to my home.” He says, tilting his head as he looks down at her. 

Rhaena looks up to him, and her hands are clasped to the front. He has to admit how feminine she is; he has heard about her. How knights fought for her favour, and made songs for her, in hopes for her to like them.

“We are one kin after all, aren’t we?”

“I suppose you can call yourself that” he says smugly. 

Rhaena looks at him with impatience. He was being rude on purpose.

“And how is my mother’s dragon?” she asks, trying to fight him back.

“Oh? You mean my dragon?” 

“My mother’s” she repeats, stubbornly.

“Not anymore, is it?” He snickers, a smirk on his lips as he raises his eyebrows mockingly. It makes her fume.

“Because it was stolen”

“Because your mother died” he corrects her. “Nothing can belong to the dead, can it?” 

“I suppose not” she says, faking a smile. “Even though it was stolen. You wouldn’t be able to see those things, I suppose. My bad” 

She sees how it ticks him off. How his one eye twitches in place and his jaw gets tense. 

“You can call it however you want, my Lady. I did not steal a legitimate right to no one. Dragons do not work like that. Not like titles” He says. “Such as Driftmark’s” He adds.

Rhaena breathes in and presses her lips together. He is taunting her on purpose, because Luke's claim has been questioned, for how unvalyrian he looks. He looks none of it. 

“And you’ll carry his bastard offspring” he murmurs, as he asks, as he intends to walk away.

Rhaena looks at him at how indecent he is. She blinks in disbelief at his debauchery. 

“Excuse me?” her voice stops him in his tracks, and he turns slowly, having a certain air of smugness to him.

“You two have been promised to each other since you were two years of age. It is no surprise” Aemond shrugs it off with a smirk. “Imagine it. What a shame your late mother’s wish to make you Lady of Driftmark has to come by marrying you off a Strong man” 

“He is not-”

“Isn’t he?” 

No one else is around. Rhaena knows. She loves Luke, she really does. He is kind and funny. But he isn’t… appealing to her romantically. He was her stepbrother, and her future husband. 

“He will be a good Lord of the Tiles. A good husband too” she defends him, weakly, looking at Aemond “A Lady like me only desires for someone who shall be kind and tender. If he is so, I’d love him”.

“If it helps you sleep at night, then… believe so” Aemond shrugs, looking down at her. She wasn’t aware when they got too close, to the extent that she could practically hear his scent and hear his breathing. 

Aemond was gallardly handsome, in a different way than she thought Jacaerys was. She always met handsome men in search of her favour, just for after it, having to console Luke about it, that she wasn’t going to entertain the idea of any potential lovers. They were promised to each other since they were children, and she knew that. Is not that she hates him, she is just.. Used to him. To know that in their marriage, she will provide heirs. 

She often thinks that they married her to him because they want to assure Velaryon blood on Driftmark, the one in her blood that lacks his.

“Why doesn’t your father care of giving you a proper dragon rather than to marry you?”

“I will ride Vhagar soon enough” her stubborn voice comes, as if it was a threat that only used to amuse him even more, as his chest inflates and he smirks widens. 

“You imagine such a silly thing, cousin, but again, if it helps you sleep at night… Who am I to judge?” he says, smugly as he smirks. “Though I do not need to imagine a better life, for I am not the future breed mare of a bastard”

Rhaena opens her eyes in disgust at his lewdness, boldness and open rude comment. She feels enraged, being seen just like that. Like an animal to breed, and later to be discarded, put aside as if nothing. 

Rhaena moves her hand to slap him across his cheek, a loud smack on his right cheek that didn’t even move his face away. If anything, it hurt her wrist to do that, yet she hoped her gold rings could do some damage. 

His face barely moves, and his lips curl into an amused smile as he feels the stinging slap on her face. His only eye turns to her, and before she can move her hand down, he grabs her wrist.

Even if she pulls, his grip is strong, and makes her arm go stiff. She tries to pull away, but he pulls her into his chest abruptly, to lower his head and capture her lips on a forceful kiss. Her chest is pressed against his, and she is certainly sure he is stepping on her dress. His other hand moves to the lower part of her back, forcing her to be still as he kisses her. 

She hasn’t kissed anyone, just a stable boy once, but just because Baela dared her to once, but she never counted that. Still, she doesn’t know if a kiss should feel so messy as Aemond kisses her. She never thought she’d enjoy a kiss with someone who calls her a whore. 

Aemond drags her as if she doesn’t weigh a thing, holding her by the wrist and making her legs follow his long steps to an isolated, dark place of the keep. She guesses that Aemond would know each little corner of his own home.  

She doesn’t exactly know what his weird little room is, but Aemond closes the door, and he kisses her again, deeply, as if he needed her as the air he breathes. 

“Married to a Lord” He scoffs between kisses, as his hands grip her waist. “You deserve to be a real Targaryen princess…” he trails off as he moves to kiss her neck, and she whimpers softly. 

She is not sure that he knows that his wife won’t be a princess, but the thought of him wanting to give her everything he has to offer is rather… oddly sweet. 

Rhaena feels his lips lowering to her breasts, and she has to blush at the lewdness, the debauchery of it. She wasn’t the most devoted follower to the faith, yet she feels embarrassed by those feelings, new, lustful feelings. She might pray for forgiveness later.

Aemond is rarely tender, she thinks. She thought he would be… forceful. But he holds her as if she is porcelain.  

Tender, but hungry. There is a certain pull to him; like an invisible string that held him back, but a burning desire within to give in to his whims. He looks up at her; as if for a moment to take in her features, as if trying to look some sort of disgust in her face. 

It is her who kisses him back, as he presses her against one of the wood tables around the room, and she holds his jaw with her both hands, her long nails softly scratching the begging of his jaw. She didn’t know how to kiss as passionately as he did, but she did her best. 

He appreciates the kiss, as his hands move to slowly pull up softly her dress, accommodating between her legs, too close as her pink dress gets pulled up and her breath gets stuck on her throat as she pulls back to watch him. He looked at her, as she could feel his hardness pressing insistently on her clothed pussy. 

“Aemond-”

“Indulge me” he says, in a raspy tone. 

It is not a plea, to her it sounded as if he is asking for permission to keep going, but before she can process the question, or answer it, he just kisses her again, moving his hands in her undergarments, up to her thigh more and more. He asked for permission or just informed her? She didn’t know, but it prepared her for whatever he wanted.

“Too good to be the breed of a bastard” he murmurs against his lips, before he accommodates her atop of the wood table, and he kneels in front of her. 

“Aemond-” 

He doesn’t seem to hear her, and if he does, he truly doesn’t care. 

She tries to move the skirts of her dress to look at him, trying to move the fabric, which she regrets using such a puffy dress. She feels his cold hands moving her underpants, and when she can see his face between all of her skirts, he just leans in to taste her pussy.

The gasp that leaves her mouth sounds more like a sob and she tries to not fall as she sits on the edge, and her hands grip the edge as Aemond moves his tongue all the way up, devouring her, taking in her taste on his wicked tongue.

“Divine” he murmurs against her cunt, diving his tongue into her again.

She squirms slightly, her body accepting the foreign touch, but she was not used to it. It was overwhelming, in a sense. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Aemond…” she repeats her name again, she can’t possibly form another word.

“What? Can’t handle a little oral from your cousin?” he murmurs, and she can practically hear the smirk on his lips, as if this amused him greatly. “To think that all knights fight for your favour, yet here you are… with me…” he murmurs, with certain pride for acquiring such a price for himself. 

He was possessive about something he did not possess, since Rhaena was promised long before she could even think. 

“You are so…” She tries to say, but his tongue swipes across her clit, long and flat, and so thorough. He loved how easily he could rile her up, how quickly he could push her to the edge.

As his left hand, holding her thigh apart from the other, his right hand found her entrance as he pulled his mouth back a bit, shoving two fingers inside her cunt at once, pumping them in and out, as he licked her clit. He cared not if she liked it or not, because he knew she would. 

She had to bite her hand to stop the moans, little whimpers reached his ears, which was nothing but a delight. 

His fingers began to move in a steady, driving rhythm, and he licked at her pussy with slow, broad strokes. His fingers curled inside her, seeking that velvety spot that would make her little whimpers turn into scandalous moans. 

“Aemond, stop it, I think I-” Rhaena says, as the boiling feeling in her abdomen starts to make her legs try to close shut, because her cunt was receiving so much stimulation that she was starting to moan louder and more desperate for a something she was yet to experimentate. 

He does not, because he knows what she does not; he knows how close she is to cum, to soak his mouth and he would delight himself in her taste even after she came hard on his tongue. He holds her in place, caring not if she squeezes his head between her legs, because he will not stop until she cums. 

He hears her loud moans, that she tries to hide covering her mouth, her legs tremble, and he knows that she is feeling overwhelmed. She hears the little curse she says as she cums, hard on his mouth. To be fair, he has known women who cum a lot, but Rhaena… She was a new found delight of his.

“Hm, who would have said you were a squirter?” He murmurs, his face shines with the wetness, and she has to look away due to the lewdness. Good gods, what has she done? “Next time you’ll cum in my cock”

–

Those words are impregnated in her brain as she sits across the other end of the table at supper. She was beside Lucerys, as he chats with Jace, but she was drinking wine and sharing soft spoken talks with her stepmother. 

Lucerys had kindness in him, true. He was.. Nice. But not… appealing to her. He tended to be like a child, and she cringed a bit at that; they were old now, at marrying age, and one had to leave the child-like reassurance in the past. And Lucerys did not.

“He is looking at me” Lucerys says in a murmur to her, which makes Rhaena look at him, out of her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Aemond”

Rhaena blinks a bit, her legs squeezing together at the name. She longed for his wicked tongue lapping her folds again. 

She turns her head to watch him, in front, at the other end of the long table at the family supper. He had no expression on his face, as if one of boredom and annoyance. When her eyes meet his, she notices the slight clench on his jaw.

“He is not” she says. Imbecile. She thinks, resenting him a bit. How can he be so clueless?

He is looking at me. She wants to say, smugly even, something so unlike her. Her heart beats fast as she swallows the fact. He was looking at her. 

Hearing Lucerys giggles as the pig is served, gets her clueless a bit, but she remembers the story they told her; the pink dread. That’s why Aemond said that night  ‘Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride’ 

It stirred her wrong. The same boy who mocked a Targaryen prince about not having a dragon, many times until he stood up to them, was about to marry her… a dragonless Targaryen. 

Lucerys never treated her wrong, Rhaenyra raised her boys right. But it made her uncomfortable, thinking about it. She resented him, for being able to do things, to choose, to ride a dragon, when he was… not worthy. 

The rest of the dinner is a blurry image, Aemond mocking her stepbrothers, and Jace trying to defend them. Jace was dreamy, she thought, he was everything a lady like her would like. But Aemond? The bones of her needed him, and just by having one taste of him, and not him whole. 

She hated herself for it. For resenting Luke, for wanting Aemond. As she walked on the halls, after her father sent them to bed, Baela went to Jacaerys, but she didn’t want to go to Luke. Why couldn’t she be like before? She accepted her fate, she is okay with it. Now it looks… like crumbs from what she could have.  

“Rhaena” It’s Aemond’s voice, from the end of the stairs. She turns, and walks closer, frowning a bit. Her chambers were not on the same floor of those in the royal family, she was merely an extension of it.

“Prince Aemond”

He smirks, his chest almost inflates with delight at her words. 

“I suppose you had a nice supper?”

“You were unnecessarily cruel” She states, still defending them in the kindness of her heart. 

“One of my many charming traits.” He was shrugging to it, as his hand wraps her wrists. “Come on.”

She finds herself again being dragged to his chambers, and no guards are close to the hall of his rooms.  Weird she thinks. 

He closes the door of his chambers, which seem cold and uninviting to her, as if no one ever lived here. She can see his bed on one side, and the lonely récamier next to the fire, as he guided her quickly to sit there, not allowing her a peak of his full chambers. 

“I have a surprise for you.” He says softly, a small smirk as he moves to serve her a cup of wine on the table. Her head tilts, not understanding a bit. “It’s more like a… proof of my loyalty.”

Rhaena frowns, what could he even give her? Jewels? Dresses? She takes the cup he gives her, and he goes back to serve himself another. She looks at the other side of the room, thinking about what kind of gift Aemond could give…

“Lucerys” She says, standing up immediately, her voice surprised, and her heart balls to her stomach, as she sees her betrothed, tied to a chair, and his mouth muffled as he tries to move the unmovable chair. 

He doesn’t seem hurt, or bleeding, just desperate to get out of the chair.

“Aemond, why would you do such a thing?” She cries, as she leaves her cup somewhere to be quick to untie him. 

“I told you” Aemond says, grabbing her elbow, and not allowing her to help him. “A gift”

Rhaena feels distressed, she looks at the dagger on Aemond’s waist, little dragon details full of sapphires, very sharp and very much him. She hesitates, and she fears that he’ll take his debt, an eye for an eye. Lucerys is at his mercy, and she wouldn’t be able to fight against him, she knows it. 

“Aemond, this is madness. Untie him” she says, her voice kind, and even if she resents the boy, she loves him, as a brother. “He has done…” She stops herself before finishing, because saying that ‘he has done nothing wrong’ would throw Aemond into madness. “Take it out on me”

Aemond raises his eyebrow. Lucerys’ voice comes as a muffled scream, but she doesn’t care.

“I was there too. I have the blood of the dragon, and Velaryon blood too…” She says, standing up for him. 

Aemond looks at her, and he walks closer. She can hear Lucerys’ sounds coming out as desperate, as if he was afraid that he will harm her. But she knows better than him. 

“Silly girl” He says smirking, patronisingly to her. “You really don’t have a clue of the world..”

Rhaena stands still, looking at her as she blinks a bit confused. She clenches her fists, and she follows him as he sits on the récamier, standing in front of him. Surely, she daydreamed about him? Yes. Did she want him to ravish her and fuck her? Surely. Did she hope that he’ll steal her away from a betrothal that by the passing second seems dreadful? No doubts. But to make Lucerys suffer from it… she was far too kind and sweet to do so.

“Stop this madness” She tries to plead with him.

“Madness? Perhaps” Aemond says as he takes his coat off, and he grabs his dagger, pointing it to her, as he sits calmly. “But also intensely pleasurable. For me, at least” He shrugs, and smirks. “Take off your underpants” 

Rhaena is taken aback, as she steps back looking at him. She turns to watch Luke, who shakes his head from side to side, as Aemond moves his dagger to press it against the fabric of her dress. 

“It is not a petition” He hurries her. 

Rhaena looks at the dagger. “But don’t damage my dress” she says moving back, as she leans to fetch the end of her dress to take her under pants off. It amuses Aemond greatly how she cares for such womanly things as dresses. It is endearing. 

Rhaena extends to him her underpants, and he inspects them, smirking. He stands up, and moves to Lucerys, smugly. “She is truly a vixen.” He says, leaving the underpants on his lap. “You had her hidden, not so well, hm?”

Rhaena feels embarrassed, and more ashamed because it turns her on. It was a torture to her, between duty and her most hidden desires. Lucerys was the boy she was promised to, but Aemond was the man she craved. 

“You won’t hurt him?” She asks as he sits back, and he sighs, moving to undo his breeches. 

“I’ll spare him… for now. Won’t hurt him, physically, at least.” He says grabbing her waist and his other hand moving to her skirts to pull them up. “I’ll just make him watch as I take what’s mine. How a true dragon takes what they want.” He says smugly, forcing her to sit on his lap, her back pressed against his chest as he moves his breeches for his cock to be free. 

He slides his hands, taking the edge of her dress to push it all the way up to her waist, in which Rhaena has to grab his knees so as not to fall. He has the same idea, as with one hand he holds her skirts up, and the other moves to spread her legs apart, revealing her glistening cunt to the onlooker. 

“Isn’t her cunt so…” Aemond trails off, and Rhaena understands what he is doing, showing her intimacy to Luke as if mocking him for having what he doesn’t. 

“Aemond” Rhaena murmurs in a whine, embarrassed as she tries to press her legs together, shy to be seen so exposed. 

The oldest prince grins at her embarrassment, leaning to kiss the side of her neck. “Shy, cousin? Don’t be, you are beautiful… enough to arouse anyone just with a look” he says amused, his voice almost a low purr. He glances at Lucerys, his chin pressing on her left shoulder, and he glances over at the bulge growing on his pants. Pathetic, he thinks. “Just like it does to him, no doubt. Watching you like this must be quite… stimulating.” He trails off, letting his fingers  down on her body, to her cunt. 

He savoured Rhaena’s discomfort, and the Strong’s arousal. He leaves soft kisses on her neck, and exposed shoulder, as he moves her body to his delight.

“Your maidenhood..” He murmurs, looking at her “Shall be mine”

The feel of Aemond’s cock sliding on her cunt is a slight discomfort at the beginning, as she was not used to feeling something pushing insistently inside. She is wet, and her mouth falls open as she has to shut her eyes, wanton sounds leaving her.

“Fucking you right in front of him. While he watches and wishes he could be in my place” He says smugly, his voice tense due to the way her cunt clenched around his cock inside, as if she was made to take him in every way. “You take my cock like the good girl you are.”

It was mortifying for her first time being in front of her betrothed, instead with him, on her wedding night, with him as her husband, not as a viewer. She opens her eyes to look at him ,and she cannot understand his face. He is somewhat mortified, panting as he still fights against the bounds. She can see the erection on his pants, and she feels ashamed. But the feeling does not last long as Aemond’s cock is thrusting in her insides and forcing her to leave the shame away, replacing it with pure lust. 

The thick length of his cock grinds deliciously in her walls, Aemond loves the feeling of her cunt just trying to milk him, as she moans loudly, for the bastard to hear. He holds both of her wrists on her back making her bounce on his cock to fuck herself. He smiles, her dress surely would be wrinkled, and he takes the chance to slap her ass as he turns his gaze down to watch his dick disappearing on her cunt. 

“Watch closely, Strong. This is what a real man looks like. This is what it means to truly claim a woman” Aemond smirks, as his cock went in and out of her, his cock slick with her juices. “See how hard he is from watching us. Knowing that if you truly liked him, your maidenhood would have been his. But it is not, and you won’t be his”

There is a certain air to Aemond that Rhaena craves. She finds herself nodding along with every word he says, his cock inside barely leaves her any room to think. She just needs him, deeper, harder, more and more.

“You will cum, pretty girl?” Aemond asks softly, voice more tender when referring to her. He loved to praise her, he realised. She was such a pretty thing to admire, it was inevitable. He reached around to rub Rhaena’s clit, his thumb rolling the sensitive nub as he pushed his cock deep into her cunt. “Cum all over yourself, darling”

Maybe it’s the endearing name or the overwhelming sensation of his cock so deep,slamming against her cervix and his balls smacking against her ass, but she moans wantonly as she cums, her purple eyes rolling back in her head as her orgasm hit,  the sweat on her body makes her feel more overwhelmed, and spilling her release all over his thrusting cock. 

“Take it, fucking take it…” He groans at the sensation of her tight cunt clenching around his cock, using her pleasure to spur himself on. “Such a good girl…” 

Aemond buries himself to the hilt inside Rhaena, his cock pulsing as he pours his seed deep into her womb. He smirks to himself, as his forehead rests against her back as they pant, the Strong bastard long forgotten by both. 

As his softening cock slips out of her used cunt, he knows one thing; she is his now. He puts his cock back to his pants, and he finishes the last remnants of the wine, leaving Rhaena panting on the chair. 

He watches his pathetic nephew, still struggling against his restraints, and gazing at Rhaena, as if wanting to check her security. Aemond rolls his eye before taking his dagger once again, which makes the little shit struggle even more. 

If Aemond wanted his eye, he would have got it before Rhaena came in. He instead cuts the bounds and grabs the neck of his shirt, pulling him to walk out the door as he takes off the restraint on his mouth. 

“You will— Regret this” Lucerys says panting, trying to gain his composure as Aemond pushes him out of his chambers.

“Yeah, yeah, I surely will, bastard” He says patronisingly, kicking him out of his chambers. “Deal with your pathetic cock first” He added before closing the door on his face.

He is quick to return to Rhaena’s side, holding her into his arms as he lays in the récamier, with her cuddling atop of him. 

“I didn’t ruin your dress…” He murmurs, and she faintly smiles. 

“Thank you” Rhaena murmurs softly. 

Aemond hesitates, his hand caressing her back. He is not good with words, never has been.

“You can… stay” He says softly. “Vhagar is big enough for both” He adds “And she puts eggs from time to time, and… One of her eggs can be yours” He says softly “Like your sister has Moondancer from Vhagar, maybe another egg will be for you…” 

Rhaena looks at him, and is a bit confused by his change of demeanour. “Thank you” she murmurs softly, nuzzling to his embrace. “For caring”

“I know how it feels” he adds quietly, still caressing her back. “To be trapped too”

Rhaena hesitates a bit, not sure if to reveal her heart’s secrets to him, but at this moment, when Luke is probably snitching on them, she trusts in him. 

“I just… They are good boys. But… Driftmark… and such… Baela would be an excellent lady. She was born to do that.”

Aemond nods softly “And you?”

“I am not worthy in my father’s eyes.”

He can sense Rhaena’s loneliness and he hugs her tighter. “You are more than worthy to me. Perhaps, and only perhaps, I will die very soon to leave Vhagar to you”

Rhaena chuckles a bit, and she looks at him with her soft, tender purple eyes. “Don’t. Tomorrow you and I will ride on her, go to Oldtown and escape from our families. My father will be absolutely mad”

Aemond smirks at the prospect, and he takes the challenge.

“I hope your silly dresses don’t take too much space” He jokes, and she giggles a bit. 

They talk for a bit more, Rhaena feels exhausted, but she forces her eyes to stay open and listen to Aemond respond to her questions. After some time, he insists on getting up, and at least for her to have a decent nightgown if she was sleeping around here. 

The banging on his door makes him know who it is. 

“Open the door, you one-eyed bastard!” It’s Daemon's voice, which Aemond feels not so bothered about.

“We can leave through the passageway if you want” He says to Rhaena, while she shakes her head, she has to face her fears.

She walks silent, as she hears the voices of her family on the other side, and she opens the door all by herself. She watches his father, as if he was ready to depart King’s landing, alongside with Rhaenyra wearing her coat, and Lucerys behind her. 

“Are you okay, Rhaena?” Rhaenyra asks, but Daemon interrupts her.

“I am going to kill him-”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rhaena says softly, looking at the three of them. “I am fine”

Aemond walks behind her, and smirks. “Sister. Uncle, nephew. Don’t you want to enter?” He asks mockingly, crossing his arms.

Daemon seems furious, but Rhaenyra stops her, trying to calm her husband from killing Aemond.

“What has gotten into you?” Daemon asks, “Giving yourself as if-”

“Daemon” Rhaenyra stops him, trying to hold him back, and Lucerys looks at Rhaena, with… something she can’t decipher. Disappointment? Disgusted? She can’t understand the face, and it shames her a bit to hurt him like that, but it’s not like she regrets it. 

“He forced her” Lucerys corrected Daemon, still defending Rhaena’s honour. “I saw it”

Rhaena cringes, and she can see that so does Rhaenyra. She bites her lower lip as if considering her words, before speaking up again “He didn’t force me to anything.”

Rhaenyra looks at her, and she tries to get the best of the situation. Daemon seems more upset, but Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Well, we can always go back to Drag-”

“I’d say she rather enjoyed it” Aemond speaks up in a smug tone. 

The four of them turn to look at him, as he so smugly shrugs. 

“You bastard!” Daemon says before jumping to hit Aemond in the face, which the younger prince takes no interest in fighting, despises the hard hits on his face.

It’s Rhaenyra with the help of Arryk that helps them to separate (or to separate Daemon from Aemond), as she reprimands him for making the situation much worse. No one else about Aemond and Rhaena’s affair, and he was taking out any mean to talk them out of it, to remind Rhaena of her duties as a future bride to Lucerys, instead, Daemon entertains the amusement in which Aemond seems to relish himself into into torturing them all.

“You will marry Lucerys Velaryon” Daemon tells her daughter, pointing his index finger at her, not leaving room for her to protest. 

“I challenge prince Lucerys Velaryon to a duel, then” Aemond says, standing up with no problem, despising his bloody cheekbone. “For Lady Rhaena Targaryen’s hand in marriage”

Rhaenyra’s face is pale, out of any colour that she might have, and so does Lucerys. Rhaena looks at him, shaking her head. Sure, she wanted to get out of the betrothal, but to murder Lucerys? She won’t be part of it.

“Aemond, don’t”

“I’ll kill you before you put another finger on my daughter”

“Gladly, uncle. Only after I kill the little lord Strong”

"Do you dare to duel for my daughter's hand with her betrothed? What kind of-"

"Didn't you do the same with mum? You killed her betrothed in a duel" Rhaena says frowning, and Daemon gets quiet to that.

Rhaenyra looks at Lucerys, horrified at the prospect of it. He doesn’t seem particularly thrilled or prepared for it either, and there was nothing he could do to possibly win in a duel with Aemond. 

Rhaena tries to make Aemond understand the reason, to do anything but.

“Just break the betrothal” Rhaena says to Rhaenyra. “I am not a maiden, and Aemond will take me as his.”

Aemond sees the face of his half sister, she finds herself in an impossible situation. He turns to the little bastard pup, shitting himself behind his mum, unable to do any harm to him ever again, and he will make sure of it. That it hurts once he stabs him in the eye. 

Her sweet Rhaena has such a pure heart, and his hand finds her to feel the warmth of her kindness, that he sometimes lacks. But they'll manage, he knows that.

[honeyydrunk]

reasons for some of the jjk men on why i would and wouldn't fuck them. i think now would be a good time to mention that uh i'm not going to be saying no to anyone. gege akutami knew what would sell.

starting off strong with GOJO SATORU daddy's home home for me i know i've been waiting no lube no protection all night all day any position any location any time no matter what he asks even if it hurts me i'll just endlessly over and over again go towards you.

now WHY would i climb the beanstalk? let's go through the reasons. - he's hot i remember the teacher giving him her number - he's tall bro was planned to be made into a coathanger bc of those japanese genetics defying legs. and you know if he's tall then proportionately..... - he's fast in 299 seconds gojo satoru had slaughtered a train's worth of transfigured humans - his voice "you cryin?" "this is where you're weak right?" it doesn't matter i watched jjk in sub, i went onto youtube and listened to the uploaded audios of the dub

but why i'm not fucking that man until failure 😔 ?! - i'm not geto suguru. i may be delusional but i'm not blind. even kenjaku wasn't able to sway him, and he WAS suguru. - he's too whimsical for my liking. bro would answer a call while midstroke, teleport out, then return like 30 minutes later with souvenirs and go "yeah let's continue!!"

🎀 nanami kento 🎀 to me it's not just sex. i wish to marry someone like him. i'm ridiculously close to manifesting 'a husband like nanami kento'. as someone who let's just say is situated in the finance sector, no one wants that man more than me. it's embarrassing how nanami is like a living cheat code to everything i've ever wanted.

oh for to be a lawyer representing his office firm, occasionally coming in every few months and parading in mini skirts and high heels. acting as if we're only acquaintances during the meeting. and after the deposition we end up in the backseat of his car during his lunch break. seriously hoping no one from the office comes down and decides to check why his car is 'moving' like that. 🎀 why i'm going to give him 'marry me head' 🎀 (this is going to be a long list)

- he's a tall guy in finance. - he's blonde but in a hot way - his technique is finding someone's weak spots. - he's absolutely built - he takes things seriously. bro would take you throughly. - i have a thing for successful men - he pulls hair - he kills curses effortlessly - he's very good at being relaxed while in a fight - island holiday sex - that office attire with the suit does things - when he takes off the tie and wraps it around his hand, he should be wrapping it around my wrists. - he likes bread? i can give him cake - oh his job must be so stressful isn't it such a good thing i'm really good at massages - stability in this economy is like the hottest thing istfg - i've never seen a not HAWT nanami cosplayer (no one try and prove me wrong) - when he's mad it's crazy hot

why i'm sadly not riding that man until he places a ring on my finger in the malaysian sunset? - he wouldn't want a relationship. not because he doesn't desire one, but due to the demanding nature jujutsu sorcery, not only would that drain him out too much to care, but also because he wouldn't want to put his partner through the mental challenges of not knowing whether he'd return alive or death. and the mental challenges it would give his partner if he died. - i'm not 27. he gives me the horrific (for me) vibes that he'd only consider a relationship with someone who he's the same age as. - my japanese skills are really bad that makes communication in a relationship a problem.

🙈 geto suguru 🙈 hes beautiful, getting slightly too close to my type for comfort, but whether i could ignore my grievances with his lifestyle choices is yet to be debated. i have a lot of grievances with that why i would beg him to consider a one night stand w this monkey?!: - tall hot built how many times am i going to have to say tall hot built throughout this post. we KNOW the jjk men are fine. for sex the standard really is just if they're hot. - his hair his soft long black flowing princess hair everyday i thank twice and loona stans for existing. your lesbianism has stolen the scissors away from the hands of men. thank you for your service..

- he's so soft when treating people he likes i like people being nice to me

- i hate the clothes he wears as a cult leader are you pregnant with all those curses you're swallowing? like the way kenjaku definitely didn't swallow. because that outfit looks like villain maternity wear. the only upside is that it makes me even more motivated to get that man OUT of his clothes.

- something about his gentleman type personality with his either cult leader flair or his extreme dedication has me going crazy delusional as with nanami i am weak to men that have corporate expertise. it should scare me the way i cave. like okay i'll bleach my hair white and get blue contacts if that's what it takes to have you. please charm me and make me delusional

- he's hot while killing people aside from financially successful gentlemen, unfortunately i have the horrific ailment of snapping the minute i see a crazy guy with blood on his face that kills people with ease. and that one scene where he DECIMATED that guy and wiped the blood of his cheek ruined me

why i'm staying far FAR FAR FAR away - i may relate to gojo satoru but i'm not him bro isn't touching me. i'm not his blue eyed the strongest bc i'm gojo because i'm the strongest coat hanger overconfident sweet lover hates moral arguments high school bittersweet situationship.

- i actually HATE his moral argument due to the balance of equilibrium and market forces whatever, if jujutsu sorcerers were meant to be the prevailing thingy then they would be so. i could go into more detail but let's just say i couldn't be gojo because how could i be so selfless to let the situationship of my life go to chase a dream he'll never achieve for an argument that's wrong because he feels it to be more important than me. - he's got the megumi potential man effect "worst curse user" R U SRS? be fr. i know he handed tokyo student's asses back to them but i think he's just a heartbroken guy who's a little bad and has a goal or whatever. bro is NOT the worst curse user. - can't figure out if i would mind lobotomied geto or not. but he would definitely be freakier after those backshots he took. - his mouth probably tastes like a rag used to clean shit and vomit - to my knowledge i am not a jujutsu sorcerer

choso !! choso !! choso !! why i would?! OFC I WOULD

- this again at some point saying tall hot and built starts to get too repetitive. but when he pulled his clothing to the side during that fight with yuuji, i was staring for TOO LONG. - i think his blackhead pore strip is cute. - his personality is ridiculously cute. obviously this may sound odd but i think we can gather i'm rather odd. in MY opinion, it's cute. like idk his sincerity in his choices is very cute. - i know i could make him blush so easily.

why i wouldn't.... (unfortunately) - i'm not his brother if there's one thing i know about that man is that he is dedicated to his brothers. he will not hear anything i have to say and simply ignore me for i am not his brother i am a random person. - i don't want to carry on kenjaku's bloodline - family reunions w that man would be ridiculous - the cursed womb paintings 1-3 is a concept i don't wish to partake in

fushiguro toji he's a real one. didn't like his family so he finds himself a cute wife. he's absolutely goated w those skills. his choices with child raising leave me seriously concerned with what might happen after our sexual activities. i mean the minute he realises who megumi was after he resurrected he just went and killed himself. CRAZY. but yeah i'd fuck him - he's built - he's built - he had to make megumi somehow - bros got grey sweatpants and a compression shirt - he has that heavenly pact for physical prowess he should USE IT - lowkey like how the scar looks - he wants to hit core this is one way to do it - he's built - i can tell he would be good in bed call it a 7th sense

why i wouldn't: - he'd steal everything i own while i'm asleep - id have to pay him to fuck me - i am not his original wife, he's not going to want me. - i don't want those crazy zenin clan freaks knowing who i am - do i want him to traumatise my kid when hes revived again? - i don't like gambling addictions

sukuna ryomen.....

would...... - 4 arms - 2 dicks - doesn't he have a tongue on his stomach? - built - king of curses he can be the king of this pussy - i wanna ride him so bad while he sits on that throne of his - ngl whatever that white kimono he wears is hot - his voice - he's lowkey funny - he's hot i'm not even going to bother denying

why i wouldn't: - i'm not megumi - bro would kill me before i ask him if i can suck him off - why would he agree? - if i survived i feel i would be severely looked down upon for this choice of mine

mahito.... (hella ashamed for this not even lying) would: - he's built - he can change his body to anything wouldn't: - he'd kill me and he's not like nanami where death would be worth it for him

@saradika TSYM !! i googled and found the free spacers

next "why i wouldn't and wouldn't" will be the neos the nct boys (however long that takes with HOW MANY? members?)

[pupyuj]

Mean dom wonnie and yujin/ OR MAYBE REI being the mean girl duo, top at their class and just happens to get interested in you, maybe g!p🗣️✨🎀 with an unnie kink✨

gonna do mean girls wony and rei bcs ehehe i don’t write enuff rei 🥺🥺😢💓 plus ya’ll do NOT want me to yap about mean girl yuj or else we’ll end up with a ycs-long rant about me wanting mean girl yuj to make up a horrible rumor about me and ridicule me in front of the entire student body and then break my glasses and laugh in my face about it… THE VOICESSSS 👹👹👹👹

anyways, pardon for the long author’s note but omg i rlly enjoyed this ask for some reason LIKE I HAD SO MUCH FUN WHILE WRITING IT 😵‍💫😵‍💫🤭 i couldn’t incorporate unnie kink at all bcs i completely forgot about it MY APOLOGIES I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND ANON 🥺🙏

mean girls wony and rei who scares everyone except you bcs you always end up being third best at the class bcs of them and so you absolutely hate their guts 😡 never receiving the praises you deserve bcs they hog all the spotlight as well as the top marks.. mean girls wony and rei who took an interest for the feisty academic overachiever you, (y/n), bcs they finally noticed you glaring daggers at them from the top of your book from across the courtyard benches one summer afternoon in the campus… mean girls wony and rei who take it to themselves to teach you a thing or two about respecting your betters 🤭✨✨

them somehow catching you studying alone in an empty classroom.. talking to you with fake smiles with an even faker tone of speaking, offering to help you review for the next week’s assessments which you refused quite rudely… and ofc wony wasn’t going to let that slide! 👿👿 here they were, offering you a nice way to finally beat them in the class and yet reject them?? in such a tone too?? you were just asking to be punished!

wony grabbing your chin harshly.. digging her nails in your skin before she stuffs your mouth with her fingers, daring you to speak to them like that again.. while rei’s off to the side recording all of this with her phone… ykw maybe you were shitting your pants bcs what the fuck??? “well?? you were so brave just a few minutes ago..” wony says, laughing as you gagged and choked on her long fingers 😵‍💫 rei spotting you eyeing down wonyoung’s hard-on.. “wony, i think there’s something else (y/n) would rather have in her mouth.”

“of course! fucking slut. come on, rei-yah. let’s give her what she wants and fill her up.”

ughhfhfhschcbcj rei occupying your mouth while wonyoung keeps one of your hands busy.. you completely forgetting that rei is recording bcs all of a sudden you were their little whore and all you wanted to was to please them?? sucking off rei so good that her normally soft moans are louder, her head thrown back while she uses her free hand to keep your head still, thrusting her cock into your mouth at a comfortable pace… “o-only learning how to.. ahh… cooperate with us when it comes to this, hm? we should’ve fucked you earlier. right, wonyoung?” rei grabbing a fistful of your hair from the back and forcing you to look at her while you sucked her off.. smiling as she looks at your pathetic face back and forth between on her phone and behind the camera 😵‍💫😵‍💫

meanwhile, wonyoung was burning hot—she wants to cum so bad!! she was rock-hard and throbbing, she must’ve wanted this for a while.. ugh she doesn’t know how the fuck you did it but even when you were mostly preoccupied with rei fucking your mouth, you still found ways to please wonyoung with your hand 🫣 more and more of her precum leaking and coating her length as you jerked her off.. toying with the head and making wonyoung whine, nearly making her cum even! and she does merely a few minutes later bcs poor baby couldn’t hold it! 😣 her cum spilling all over your hand and the side of your face.. a much, much better look on you than makeup if you ask wony 🤭 and rei adds to it too! cumming right after wonyoung and making sure to pull out just to decorate your face with her cum…

and then! surprising the two girls with a barrage of questions that they didn’t expect from your mostly polite mouth at all 🫣

“is.. is that it..?”

“y-you’ll.. fuck me, right? i want you both inside me…”

“please..? i-i’m good.. i promise, i am..!”

what the fuck?! who knew you can be such an obedient cockslut! and why would rei and wony say no to that cute face? best believe that they’d fuck you in turns and together for as long as you can take in that classroom! mean girls know how to fuck a good girl’s brains out after all 🤭🤭

[lustfulslxt]

hii can u do a smut femxmatt fic where they meet at a party and they like are kinda drunk and matt’s really flirty and touchy and they just end up fucking!! ty!!!

(kinda like ur party revelations one but maybe they’re both influencers or u could even do chris!)

Under The Influence - Chris Sturniolo

warnings : alcohol consumption, smut

a/n : i wrote this for chris bc as you said, i have party revelations for matt, and a friend of mine received a request just like this for matt. xx

—

Tie it up, put a chain on it

Make you tattoo my name on it

“Will you please come?” Sage begs, shaking my hand up and down, on the verge of a temper tantrum.

“You’re literally being ridiculous.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t see what difference it would make if I were there or not.”

Sage has been asking me to go to this party with her for weeks now. However, my answer has been a constant no. I’m not a fan of parties, much less big influencer parties. Too much drama always stems from them; whether it’s so and so cheated, whoever’s beefing, they did this, they did that. They never fail to have some dumb shit pop off, hence why I’d just rather not go. I don’t need anyone attempting to ruin my reputation and career just for their own benefit, I’m good.

“Because you’re my best friend and I need you. You’re my hype man and wingman all in one. Please! Just this once! I’ll do anything!” She continues to plead.

I sigh, ultimately knowing I’ll cave, “This is the only party you’re going to convince me to go to. You know how I feel about being around a bunch of fake and dramatic fucks.”

She instantly starts jumping up and down, cheering whilst shaking my hands again. “We’re leaving in three hours, so make sure you’re ready. Also, we’re gonna uber so we can get fucked up.”

I just shake my head, not really looking forward to the night ahead of me. But maybe, just maybe, I can get drunk and enjoy myself. Dismissing my thoughts, I turn on some music and head to my bathroom to begin getting ready.

I take a long shower, thoroughly washing and exfoliating myself. I shave and do a hair and face mask, prepping myself for tonight. After getting out, I dry off and apply vanilla scented lotion to every part of my body.

Next, I slip on my undergarments and apply deodorant, then head to my closet to choose an outfit. It doesn’t take me long, before I choose a plain, black mini skirt and tube top with a long sleeve mesh dress paired over it that had gems scattered all over. I stick with a pair of black lace up pumps to go with my outfit. Sitting down at my vanity, I go through my makeup, debating on what kind of look I want. After pondering for a moment, I just choose a dark smokey eye with a basic beat. I line my lips with a medium dark brown and apply clear lip gloss, blending it all together flawlessly. For hair, I just stick with a basic blow out.

“Great! You’re ready!” Sage suddenly cheers from my bedroom door.

I look over and see that she’s fully dressed and ready to go, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. Upon seeing that, my eyebrows raise.

“Why the face?” She asks, before registering it. “Oh, this! It’s for a little pregame. So, come on.”

I shrug and gather everything I need for tonight, placing it in my purse, then follow her downstairs. She already has two shot glasses set out on our dining room table, ready to be filled. Without another word, she fills both glasses to the rim with vodka, smirking at me as she raises her glass.

“Cheers to a great night!” She grins, clinking my glass with hers, both of us downing the harsh liquor.

My face contorts in disgust as the liquid flows down my throat, and I can’t help but cringe at the awful taste. Immediately, my chest is hot and I don’t want anymore. I’m not really a drinker, but I already know I can’t be sober in order to get through this night. We both take two more shots before our uber arrives and we’re heading to the party.

The driver talked our ears off the whole ride, so when we finally shut the doors of the black suv, we both sigh and fall into a fit of tipsy laughter. We’re not drunk, but neither are we completely sober.

Upon walking into the party, we’re met with a glowing red light, loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed, and a ginormous amount of people all chatting and dancing throughout the house.

“Y/N! Sage!” A voice calls out, directing our attention towards them.

It’s one of Sage’s friends, one I personally am not a fan of, but I know how to be nice. I shoot her tight lipped smile, leaving Sage to greet her.

“Hey! It’s been so long, how are you?” Sage asks, pulling her into a hug.

Before she can respond, I quickly interrupt, “Sorry, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

And with that, I’m making my way through the crowd of people, in search of the kitchen. It takes me about five minutes to get through everyone and I’m already slightly disgusted at the sweaty bodies and the lack of personal space. I’m not lying when I say parties aren’t my thing.

Finally being able to breathe in the less packed room, I deeply inhale and exhale, ridding myself of the building nerves. I walk over to the counter, grabbing a solo cup from the stack and browsing through the bottles of alcohol. I opt for an unopened bottle of vodka, not wanting to risk anything that may or may not have been tainted. I fill my cup up a little over half way, then turn towards the cooler to grab a chaser. More people have already piled into the kitchen, there now being less room to roam around. I reach into the cooler, grabbing the last can of pepsi, only for it to come up with another hand attached to it. My gaze trails up the veiny hand, following the arm it’s attached to, to observe who it is.

Bright blue eyes, pink lips, a sharp jawline, and wavy hair. A silver Vivienne Westwood chain hanging from his neck, sitting atop a white t-shirt that had a bear in a watering can, surrounded my grass and little flowers. Blue jeans and, last but not least, white air forces covering his feet.

He looks familiar. Hot, yet still familiar.

“Oh, hi.” He grins, snapping me from my thoughts.

That’s when I realize we’re both still holding the can, but I don’t let go.

“Hi.” I reply, my gaze set on his face.

“I think this is the last pepsi.” He points out.

I nod, raising my eyebrows at the obvious statement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Pepsi’s my favorite.” He adds.

I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips, “Do you want a cookie?”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “I can’t have it?”

I only repeat his action and shake my head in return, pursing my lips to keep the smile from forming.

“Can we share it?” He asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

And just like that, I’m folding. With a shrug, I pull the can from his grip. I open it up and dump some of its contents into my cup, then bring the can up to my lips, taking a drink all whilst holding eye contact. I notice him intently watching me, before grabbing the can and taking his own drink, licking his lips afterwards.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He questions.

I nod, biting my inner cheek, “And you are?”

“Chris.” He smirks, eyeing me and up and down. “Well, Y/N, we basically just kissed.”

I can’t help the loud laughter that falls from my lips, nothing less than amused at his statement. I can see the smirk on his face turn into a full blown smile as I try to catch my breath, recovering from the fit of giggles he put me in.

“That was corny.” I say, smiling at him with a shake of my head.

He tosses his hands up in defense, shrugging, “I mean, did we not?”

I don’t say anything, and bring my mixed drink up to my lips, downing all of it in one go. His eyes widen as he watches me. I don’t like alcohol, but I can manage. It doesn’t take long for it to take effect, on top of the shots I had earlier, I can already feel the warmth coating my insides. With a surge of boldness, I lean forward and place a small peck to the corner of his lips, swiftly pulling away and making my exit.

Just before I slip away, I turn back and flash him a smile, “See you around, Christopher.”

As the party goes on, I can tell the alcohol I’ve consumed has fully kicked in. The loud music is no longer bothersome, I don’t feel suffocated in the sea of people, and I feel good. It’s been around an hour since I’ve been here, and I’ve only ran back into Sage once. She’s off with her other friends, mingling around, and I’ve just been vibing.

I’ve seen Chris around, more times than I’ve seen anyone else. Unless I’m just fixated on him. It’s like every time I turn my head, my eyes are meeting his, and I never want to look away. Though, to save myself from embarrassment and humiliation, I force my gaze elsewhere.

After downing another shot, I make my way to the makeshift dance floor, and let loose. Under the Influence starts playing, and I can’t help but move my body to the beat, letting the rhythm flow through me. My hands make their way into my hair, my hips swaying in sync with the beat booming in my ears. Suddenly, I feel a warm presence directly behind me, causing me to spin around.

Hot and delicious.

Christopher.

“Hey, mama.” He slurs, a goofy grin showcasing across his lips.

He’s definitely invading my personal space, but I don’t even care. Especially when his enchanting scent is filling my nostrils, winding me in closer.

“Hello, Christopher.” I reply, my speech slightly incoherent.

“I knew you knew who I was.” He stammered, his body damn near pressed against mine.

“Mhm.” I hum in response, turning around and backing into him.

“You look good like this.” I hear his voice in my ear.

I grab his hands that were just barely grazing my waist, bringing them to fully grab my hips as I move into him. His large hands guiding me back and forth.

“You’re so pretty, it’s distracting.” He mumbles, his breath fanning my neck.

I can feel the goosebumps spreading, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“You’re drunk.” I softly say.

He shakes his head, “I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.”

Again, I’m bursting into a fit of giggles from something he’s said. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m drunk or if he just makes me nervous.

“You’ve been stuck in my head since I first saw you earlier.” He admits, stumbling over his words a bit.

I turn back around, looping my arms around his neck as we continue rocking to the music. His hands go up to my waist, pulling me into his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping, “You don’t wanna know.”

Instantly, my eyebrow raises, “Try me.”

“I see you flipping your hair around and all I want is to wrap my hands in it while you’re taking my cock.” He states, his voice low and husky.

I immediately feel heat rush to my core, the sound of his voice and the words he’s saying, turning me on. I bring my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it to prevent the large smile that’s close to taking over my face.

“What if I was thinking the same thing?” I ask, the grin breaking through.

“Will you freak out if I kiss you?”

Looking up into his eyes, I subconsciously scoot closer to him as I shake my head. His eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips, then he slowly leans in. The second his mouth meets mine, my eyes flutter shut and I’m savoring the feeling of his soft lips on my own. One of his hands reaches around me and cups my ass while his other one is wrapped around my throat, pulling me impossibly closer. As our lips mold together, I find my hands in his hair, my arms holding him into me. The kiss is desperate yet soft, passionate yet hot. He pulls away, his face only centimeters in front of mine.

“Follow me.” He says, his breath slightly heavy as he intertwines our hands.

I do as he says, following closely behind him. We walk through the kitchen, dodging everyone in our way. We round the corner to a staircase leading downwards. He pulls me in front of him, ushering me to go down.

“After you.” He says, holding his arm out for me.

I shoot him a look, before grabbing his hand and walking down the stairs, him following in suit. We get to a door that he opens for me, nodding to enter. It’s a large bedroom, quite tidy in itself, and I can smell his scent wafting through the air. Only now did I realize this is his house. As he shuts the door, I walk around, taking everything in. My hands trail across the edge of his bed, feeling his comforter beneath my fingertips.

“Do you like my room?” He asks.

I turn around to face him and he has a soft, innocent look upon his features. However, I can already see right through him. I know what’s about to take place.

“I do.” I nod, “It’s very neat, and it smells good.”

“Thanks.” He grins, strolling over to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was your party?” I ask him, sitting on the end of his bed.

He shrugs, “Why did you pretend you didn’t know who I was?”

I toss my head back, soft giggles pouring out of my mouth. I look at him with a cheeky smile and low eyes, shrugging my shoulders. He just grins at me, before kicking his shoes off and nodding towards mine. “You can make yourself comfortable if you want.”

Within seconds, I’m unstrapping the uncomfortable heels and setting them aside. He lays back on his bed, his legs dangling off the side. He grabs my hand and gives it a soft tug, so I copy his actions, and lie back. We’re both facing one another, drunk and happy.

“How come I’ve never seen you at any parties?” He questions, his fingers playing with mine.

“I’m not really a party girl. Definitely not an influencer party girl.” I admit, warmth building in my stomach at his soft gesture.

“Well I’m glad you came to this one.” He says, staring into my eyes.

“Why’s that?” I smirk.

“Because who knows if I would’ve met you had you not.”

I can’t help the blush that pools to my cheeks at his response. He’s flattering and he knows it. I don’t say anything, I just take in his features for the millionth time tonight. His hair slightly out of place from my roaming hands, his face flushed from the heat upstairs, his eyes lidded from the alcohol in his system, his pretty pink lips looking oh so kissable. He looks so good. Without a word, he pulls me closer to him, my body flush against his.

“Is this okay?” He asks me, trying to read into my facial expression.

“It’s perfect.” I nod, enjoying the warmth he’s providing.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, his breath fanning my face due to our short proximity.

A smile sneaks onto my lips as I look down, attempting to hide the red color that’s now adorning my skin. His large hand grabs my chin and lifts my head so that he can see my face. Our eyes meeting in an intense gaze, holding it for what seems like forever. He only breaks the eye contact when he puts his lips on mine again. It’s only a soft, chaste kiss.

“So pretty.” He says again, his voice low as he continues to press gentle kisses onto my lips.

The delicate kisses turn into feverish ones, our tongues now gliding in and out of one another’s mouths, lapping each other perfectly. Our lips move together so well, like we cannot breathe without each other. My hands return to his hair, softly tugging it, eliciting low groans from him. One of his hands cups my cheek, the other one resting on my lower back, pulling me even more into him. He flips me over onto my back and hovers above me, staring into my eyes once more as a small smile takes over his face.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” He groans, smashing his lips into mine again.

One of his hands rests on the bed by my head, the other one rubbing my outer thigh. Just his soft touches are enough to make my skin hot beneath his fingertips. My hands connect with the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly and running my hands up his torso. He breaks from the kiss and removes his shirt, tossing it on the floor, then reconnecting our lips. He’s positioned between my legs, his groin inches above mine. My hands continue roaming along his torso, feeling his hot skin. I bring my legs up, hooking around his waist, pulling him down into me. His clothed erection presses into my heat, causing a low moan to leave my lips.

“Are we really doing this?” He pulls back and asks, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress.

“Yes, please.” I answer, my voice soft and breathy.

He grinds down into me, his hard on hitting exactly where I need him, causing another moan to leave my mouth.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you.” He groans into my ear, leaving a wet kiss on it.

I shudder in pleasure as he continues down my neck, sucking and biting, marking me up. I reach down for his dick, palming it over his jeans. He lets out a low moan, bucking into my hand, before harshly grabbing both of my hands and pinning them above my head.

“You first.” He mutters, holding my wrists with one hand while his other one travels down my body.

His hand swiftly makes its way between my legs, my dress riding up as he kneads my thighs. Then, he’s rubbing my core through my underwear. Hums of pleasure come from me, and I can feel them growing wetter and wetter.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, his voice raspy as he looks into my eyes.

“Y-yes.” I answer, moaning louder as he presses harder into my heat.

“So good using your words, mama.” He groans, licking my neck.

He then pokes his fingers in the waistband of my panties and slowly pulls them down my legs, discarding them to the side. He spreads my legs again, my dress and skirt now sitting completely on my hips. He throws his head back at the sight of my pussy glistening with my arousal. Without another word, his face is hovering above my center, his warm breath hitting it. I can feel myself clench around nothing, desperate for any type of stimulation.

“Look at you. I haven’t even done anything and your pretty pussy’s begging for me.” He smirks, his fingers now prodding at my folds.

Now coated with my juices, he runs a finger over my clit, rubbing in soft circles. I’m physically writhing beneath him, so badly needing more. He then thrusts a finger into me, causing my body to jerk and my mouth emitting a loud gasp. He continues pumping it in and out of me, then adds another and doing the same with it. My hands squeeze the bed sheet beneath me, attempting to release the tension building. His fingers are moving so fast in and out of me, curling in the right places. My mouth falls open, my brows furrowing as pleasure overcomes me.

“You look so pretty coming undone like this.” He says, peppering kisses all over my thighs.

“Feels s-so good, daddy.” I moan out, clenching around his fingers, unaware of the name that slipped from my mouth.

His eyes are completely black as he stares up at me, watching me fall apart. His dick is rock hard, throbbing and impatiently waiting to be inside of me. Without a second thought, his lips are wrapped around my clit, sucking on it as his fingers fuck into me. That alone is enough to push me over the edge, my legs shaking as I let go, giving into the building pressure. I feel my cum ooze out of me, quickly being slurped up by Chris, tasting every drop of me as his fingers help me through my orgasm.

“Mmm, you taste so good, ma.” He says, licking my lips.

He pulls his fingers out of me, coming back up to hover over me, shoving them in my mouth. I moan around his fingers, sucking my own juices from them. He harshly grips my jaw, slamming his mouth onto mine, the taste of me lingering on our tongues.

Breathless, he pulls away and stands up, pulling me to the end of the bed by my ankles. His hand travels up my leg from my foot, tenderly squeezing along the way.

“Can you stand up?” He asks, softly rubbing my hip.

I nod and scoot to the edge, standing up on shaking legs and looking up at him. He cups my face, brushing my cheek with his thumb. He plants a sweet kiss on my lips.

“Take your clothes off.” He says, his tone firm.

I happily oblige, stripping from my clothes as he does the same. I watch as his dick springs from its restrictions, hard and throbbing. Just from the look of it, I know I’m in for a treat. He strokes himself as he looks over my body, licking his lips. He steps in front of me, his member poking into stomach. His hands run up and down my body, pressing kisses into my neck.

“On the bed, on your knees.” He demands.

I do as he says, and he follows behind me, holding me up with his hand on my throat. His lips meet my neck, sucking and biting all over it, causing soft whimpers to leave my mouth. He pushes me forward, laying me flat on my stomach. He leans over me, licking and nipping my back, leaving a warm trail of saliva. His hands part my thighs, squeezing himself in between them. I can feel him run his tip between my folds a few times, causing me to push back in anticipation. He pushes me back down, slowly sliding himself inside me.

“Ugh, fuck.” He moans, bottoming out.

“You’re so big, daddy. Feels so good.” I moan, feeling him slowly thrust in and out, filling me so nice.

His strokes start slow and hard, before the speed picks up. His hands are on my back, holding himself up as he fucks into me at a delicious rate. I can’t help the moans that continuously fall from my mouth, feeling nothing but never ending pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, mama.” He groans out, fucking into me deeper and deeper.

It doesn’t take long for me to feel the buildup in my stomach once again. His hand wraps around my hair, tugging back as he leans over me once more. His mouth comes to my neck again, leaving wet kisses. I can hear his heavy breathing and low moans in my ear, and they’re driving me insane.

“Feels like you were made just for me.” He whispers. “I knew you would feel good, but this is better than I imagined.”

“All yours.” I babble, ridden with pleasure.

“You’re so tight, I can’t take it.” He moans, his voice holding a rasp to it.

I clench around him, feeling seconds from giving into my orgasm. A string of moans and curses fall from my lips, pure bliss coursing through me.

“You’re about to cum, I can tell.” He says, “Let it go, baby. Cum for me.”

And just like that, I’m releasing all over his cock with the loudest moans. His thrusts start to grow erratic, indicating he’s close to finishing as well.

“Such a good girl. Taking my cock so well, mama.” He moans out, thrusting harder.

Within a few more strokes, his dick twitches and his hot load is spurting into me, lewd groans emitting from his mouth. He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, before slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of me. He collapses next to me, breathing heavily, looking me in my eyes with a goofy grin. His face is flushed red and his hair is sweaty, sticking to his forehead.

“That was amazing.” He breathes.

Unable to form words, I nod in agreement. His hand interlocks with mine, gently squeezing as his other hand brushes my hair out of my face.

“God, you’re so pretty, Y/N.”

I bashfully smile, “Thank you.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks, his eyes shining with hope. “We can shower and you can wear some of my clothes.”

I ponder for a second before shrugging with a nod, “That sounds perfect. I’ll just have to let Sage know.”

He smiles, brightly, pecking my shoulder over and over as he pulls me into him.

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

—

a/n : this took me entirely too long to finish, so sorry ab that!! also not proofread, as per usual. hope you enjoyed this!! continue sending in reqs and i promise i’ll get to them eventually <3

[moonstruckme]

Hiii! I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x fem!reader where they have curly hair and they offhandedly mention wishing they didn’t or that they are thinking of getting it chemically straightened or something and all the boys are just like 😱 “don’t you dare” and super over dramatic bc they love her hair. Thank you!!

Thanks for requesting lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 695 words

You smooth more product into your hair, blowing out a harsh breath when the stubborn curl springs back up from the top of your head anyway. 

“Argh!” You press your hands to your eyes, feeling on the brink of tears. “I cannot deal with this right now.” 

“What is it?” Remus asks from where he’s sitting on the bathroom rug, watching the rest of you get ready. 

“My hair isn’t cooperating.”

“It looks fine to me,” James says, and then at the ferocious look you send him, he adds hastily, “More than fine. Gorgeous, perfect. Just like you.” 

“It’s this frizz,” you huff. “I just want it to look neat for one night, is that too much to ask? This is ridiculous.” You seize a pair of scissors, thinking to simply cut the curl—there may be consequences in the long run, but damn it, you just want it to look decent now—but Sirius grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing?” He wrestles the scissors from you. “Shit, baby, it doesn’t look bad at all! Don’t get so riled up.” 

“You don’t get it,” you say, knowing you sound childish but too frustrated to care. “It’s unmanageable. It’s too much work, all of the time! There’s this thing where you can get it chemically straightened, I think I’m going to do that.” 

Sirius had started bringing his eyeliner pencil to his lash line, but it goes straight down his cheek at your words. “What?”

“Sweetheart,” James says, sounding appalled, “you can’t!”

“Why not?” You really want to know. Why shouldn’t you do the thing that’d make your life so much easier?

“Be—because,” he insists. “It’s your hair!”

“Dove.” Even Remus seems upset, a concerned line appearing between his brows. “Your hair is so lovely, why would you want to make it less unique?”

“None of you have to deal with wrangling it every day,” you grumble, attempting again to smooth down the rebellious curl and pointing at it accusingly when it boings back up. 

“Shit, I’ll do it,” Sirius says, batting your hands away and beginning to fuss over your hair. He hasn’t wiped away his eyeliner, and it sweeps down his cheek like a comically gothic teardrop. “If it’ll keep you from ruining it with chemicals, I’ll do your hair for you every day.” 

“You won’t want to,” you say darkly. “You’ll get sick of it soon. It’s impossible, it never behaves when you want it to.” 

James sets his chin on your shoulder, pouting at you in the mirror. “I think it looks cool when it doesn’t behave. It’s curly, part of the appeal is that it doesn’t have to be neat.” 

The compliments wash over you without your noticing. “But what if I want to look nice?” 

“You always look nice, darling,” Remus sighs, rolling his eyes like you’re being difficult. “And James is right. Your hair might not always look sleek or perfectly smooth, but it has its own personality. Don’t get upset with it because of its nature. Be nicer to it, hm?” 

You’re about to argue with him again, but Sirius takes your chin in his hand, turning your head and capturing your lips with his. His mouth is insistent on yours, and James snickers as you make a low, whiny sound. Sirius looks at you evenly as he pulls back, leaving his thumb on your chin.

“Let me deal with it,” he says firmly, “and when I’m done, it’s going to look so pretty you’re going to wonder why you ever thought of changing it.” 

You don’t reply, but he recognizes your silence for the assent it is, taking the errant curl and beginning to braid it into a small section of your hair. 

“Ooh, I like that,” James says, watching Sirius’ deft fingers in the mirror. “Moons, will you let me do that to yours?”

Remus sighs as though it comes at a great cost, but agrees, moving to sit down in front of James so that he can receive the same princess treatment you are. 

“See, dovey?” He looks up at you, smirking. “Now if you say your hair doesn’t look good, you’ll be insulting us both.”

[oh-saints]

I found your page a couple of days ago and i love all your stories. I hope you won't be overwhelmed with the amount of Rúben dias requests you're about to receive from me 😂I would like to request something with ruben like oc is heavily pregnant and craving something weird (whatever weird this that comes into your mind lol) and he is laughing and teasing her about it lol, and oc us having non of it. Make it fluffy please 🥺

Thank you so much in advance

cravings

craving during pregnancy is something we all are aware of, rúben even looks forward to it from the moment you broke down the news you were expecting. but what if you ask for something he doesn’t even know it exists?

rúben dias x you part of dad!rúben collection

wc: 2k

note: something that’s been sitting way too long in the vault because of the research I had to do about this but only now finished bcs I had spurts of inspiration suddenly so surprise, surprise it’s a double update! LOLOL but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet!

“gatinha,”

at your whisper, rúben stirred from his sleep. his eyes immediately spotted the clock on the bedside table. the numbers drawn 3:00 in the big, fat analogue font across the screen.

“uh, what is it?” being the alert husband he was, he turned around to face you in no time. “is there something you need?

you were already seated on the edge of the bed, meaning you had just finished from your early morning toilet trip. ever since you became pregnant, the little trip was a new routine for you—and maybe the majority of other pregnant women in general, and everyone around him who had become fathers before him had warned the footballer to watch where the mother was going.

that, and the last thing he needed was for you to slip somewhere when he wasn’t watching, when he couldn’t be any help for you. rúben and you had been waiting for your very own rainbow baby for years, so when you were granted one, it was within his most important priority list to make sure both you and the child—whose gender was still unknown yet; not even born yet and they already resembled your shy nature—happy and safe.

“are you okay?”

you didn’t hide your fascination towards the man in front of you, hair disheveled and eyes blurry with drowsiness. 5 years of marriage and you still found him endearing, even more so when he was now turning protective and alert all the time, borderline the leader of a pack with the appearance similar to a mother hen.

“i am, don’t you worry,” you said, your hands stroking the side of his face, feeling the little hairs growing to become stubbles in near future. “but i’m starving.”

ah… the infamous early morning craving.

you had never personally asked of anything alike before, contrary to what everybody else had been advising rúben that there would be a time where you would be craving something eventually in a very ridiculous time of a morning. four months in, and you were yet to show any signs of it so rúben naturally thought you were going to be an exception case. but look where they were now.

with a smile so apologetic for having to wake him up like that, rúben melted into the warmth your smile exuded. “of course, meu anjo. should i get my keys?”

rúben might be many things but you didn’t believe one chance that he was a psychic. “do you even know what i want to eat?”

“uh, mcdonalds?”

in any other time, you would’ve laughed at his meek attempt to guess your mind. given t was early in the morning, mcdonalds was supposedly a reasonable choice since it was open 24/7.

but you did not, in under any circumstances, want to touch your feet nearby that chain of foul fast food. besides, you were pregnant. didn’t your husband consider that the unhealthy intake of food would do no good for their baby?

rúben must’ve noticed the change in your demeanour. “did i say something wrong, my love?”

“yes, don’t assume anything you don’t know of.”

ah… this one rúben was familiar, the rapid change of your mood he had his money run for the fastest rollercoaster on earth, so he apologised instantly and asked you again what you wanted.

“remember the time when we travelled to asia?”

“you mean, our honeymoon?”

oh, you were so not having your husband being mr. i-know-it-all. “one more of that and i’m walking out.”

the threat was enough to make rúben circle around the bed before kneeling down in front of your frowning figure. not because he was a loser, but because he knew you might actually do it. you had a capability to do it, you always do, which was why he was drawn to you in the first place.

but he didn’t want a runaway wife, pregnant on top of that, so he quickly apologized again. “what about it, baby?”

“i want durian.” ＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

what on earth is durian?

rúben sighed as he stared at his phone, the screen frozen helplessly for how many tabs he’d opened up in the browser. he rubbed his face rather roughly, due to the frustration, as he sat on the cover of the toilet and pondered his life choices and its respective life expectancies.

no one—literally no one—had warned him about the effect of any slip of tongue around a pregnant woman.

you were the calmest person he’d ever met, never wanting to bite off someone else’s head because it drained your precious energy. which rúben agreed to, and had been a devoted student of yours in terms of anger management on and off the field. but it was getting very hard to keep his own composure intact when you even lost yours.

ironically, rúben realised that one of you should still stay sane for the sake of everyone in this household, now inclusive of the unborn baby and it didn’t look like it was going to be you anytime soon.

so realistically, he couldn’t say to you that he didn’t remember a thing—not even an ounce of it—that you both had seen the fruit in question during your honeymoon. according to you, though, you both were even mesmerized by the look but decided that the possibility of dying because of the foul smell was larger than the delicious taste. as a result, when was the best time to try the exotic fruit than now, at 3.30 AM, when you were nearing the fifth month of pregnancy?

thus, his final resort to the internet, hoping for a miracle in the amount close to how much he needed to create the apple of his eyes with you.

but of course, the search engine didn’t show anything that could help him save his own lifeline this early morning from a pregnant wife that was so ready to stab the knife to his chest. the best option rúben got was to visit chinatown and head to the fruit market.

with a particular note from a lovely reviewer that the fruit was subject to a particular season—durian season, as the asians called it. if you were to seek for the spiky fruit beyond the particular calendar, then you either (i) got one that tasted as foul as it smells, or (ii) came home empty handed.

but of course, you wouldn’t get it, would you? rúben had already had it in his head you were going to wail at how incredulous his justifications are—what the hell is a durian season? we have spring, summer, autumn and winter and not durian! he could imagine—and would accuse him of trying to get his way out of the hard labour of satisfying you craving. worse, you’d scream out rúben should be responsible for this because he was the one who knocked you up and not vice versa.

other times, the footballer would just laugh it off. even at first, he did so and thought you were the cutest thing in his life, an actual living plushie. now, he just didn’t know what to do…

“what takes you so long?”

rúben jumped slightly at the question thrown at him from behind the door, the only thing separating him and his thoughts with the rest of the world and their expectation towards him. “nothing, meu anjo. i’ll be out in a minute.”

“good, because we gotta go. i’m sleepy already but the baby needs to eat.”

the husband closed his eyes once more, regulated his breathing, visualizing the flow of his breath before letting them out slowly—just the way you taught him how—before coming out of the loo. “baby, can i ask you one thing?”

you looked up, and rúben felt bad because you were already dressed and ready to go out and fight the coldness of an early morning. “what is it?”

“what if we go and have the durian in the morning?”

“rúben, it’s already morning now,” you clicked your tongue impatiently. “what are you saying?”

“i have a place to go already but they’re only open later at 8.”

and pregnant silence fell upon them, no puns intended.

“why at 8?”

“because that’s when the market opens,” rúben sat again in front of you, his hands were rubbing the back of your hand and on top of your knees respectfully. “i’m afraid we’ll have to go to chinatown to get them and it’s only open then.”

rúben was so ready with your fit, so he was rather surprised to hear you answer, “okay.”

okay?

okay?!

okay!

good god, the mood swing had returned it honestly felt like rúben had just jumped off the cliff with bungee jumping.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben was the one not okay that morning.

you turned out to opt out sleeping that night, despite being cuddled by your husband—which was your favourite way to go to sleep, even faring better than being lullabied—but rúben forgot you were living your life for two people for these nine months, so you still had a bar of energy and excitement while he had to drag his feet to the en suite bathroom.

you were literally counting in seconds as to when you’d get to the chinatown. your legs were involuntarily shaking from excitement, while he’d become more sensitive due to the lack of sleep (per his standard). as soon as the car stopped at the parking lot, you ran to the nearest entrance and lost yourself in quest to find the fruit. it wasn’t even 8 AM yet.

rúben had to call and asked you to share your live location, in case you were lost. but you were already moving in a pace so different than those mothers he’d gotten to know lately due to the parenting class, there was no way he could catch up.

“where are you?” as soon as his phone rang, he picked up, panting from the endless count of steps inside a huge market. “i cannot find you.”

coincidentally, you happened to call rúben in order to tell him that you were going to line in a queue to a small shop selling imported exotic fruits. the small hadn’t been open, yet there was already a waiting list, and in your dictionary of words it should only mean that the said shop was relevant to be called the local’s favourite.

“there you are,” rúben was about to comment

like a lucky charm, they were called in to make their purchase not long after.

you had your eyes already set on durian, so when the uncle asked if you wanted to eat at that place or bring home a peeled one, you didn’t hesitate to have them immediately. besides, you didn’t know how to split durian into two and whatnot.

“oh my god, so damn good!” you didn’t waste a minute to dance your little moves that you made to indicate you’re happy at that moment. “i can eat this every day for the rest of my life!”

good god, please help me.

“you should try, baby!” you were so excited to share your happiness with your husband, one hand holding a tiny bit of yellow and ready to be shoved into rúben’s mouth. who could deny such endearing request? “you’ve never had one before!”

and that was also the last time rúben had a bite of that yellow, mushy inside of durian. apart from the smell, he decided he didn’t like the texture and the bitter aftertaste.

but that was him. you, on the other hand, were munching the fruit as if it was going to be your last time seeing that scarce fruit. it appalled rúben too even at the length and amount you could eat in one seating. and looking at that, seeing you were this elated, it also made him full—in every sense of the word, literally and figuratively.

when you were done with the last chunk, you grinned at him, rather sheepishly. maybe you were drunk from the fruit, maybe you were shy because you just let out one hell of an appetite. “thank you for coming here with me.”

“anytime, my love, but we’re not doing this again. okay, meu anjo?” rúben wiped your fingers one by one from the sticky texture, internally wincing at the stinky smell. “promise me that.”

“sim, meu amor.”

[weasleykisses]

You’re So Pretty IV (Remus x Reader)

You’re So Pretty IV

A/N: final chapter to the series. Happy ending bc I’m a sucker for love. You and Remus are desperately in love with each other, and it was only a matter of time before someone said something. *Not edited*

Might write a Sirius alternate ending to this if I get the inspiration.

Word count: 6.1k

________

Y/N had been a bit down in the dumps since Remus ran away from her after sharing another one of their little moments together. She just couldn’t understand why he was always running away. He wasn’t the most outspoken or extroverted of the group, but surely he felt comfortable around her. They were best friends.

When they studied together, she tried her best to act normal, like his behavior wasn’t killing her inside. She was frustrated with him, for how indecisive he was acting and how he kept tugging at her heart string just to let them go without warning. She talked to him at meals like normal, and shared her desk with him in classes they shared, but things felt so strange.

Her heart beat so swiftly when he was around she thought she might have a heart attack when their hands skimmed over each other’s or when his eyes lingered just a bit too long on her. She even felt flustered when he offered to share his textbook in Charms, something completely normal for the two of them any other time.

This was becoming ridiculous, really.

She didn’t tell the other girls why she cuddled a particular sweater of hers when she laid in bed, terribly worried about her relationship with the boy who used to wear it. She certainly didn’t say it was because it was laced with the scent of Remus Lupin. It had been his until he gave it to her on a snowy cold day in Hogsmeade.

She dreaded the day it might lose his smell and lose his touch, then she’d have to find something else of his to latch onto.

It would just be another reason for the girls to joke about how she fancied him. She never admitted it to them, refusing each time they brought it up. Yet, they persisted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She felt hopeless against the onslaught of suggestive looks they gave her when she was around the boy. She couldn’t even study with him without one of the girls suggesting she was going to spend the whole time staring at his ‘cute’ face.

It was nights like these, quiet ones with just the girls, when she felt the most vulnerable to their jokes. In the privacy of their own dorm, anything they said could be kept secret, just between the four of them. There was no way any of them would let the sensitive information slip out of that room.

Marlene would stay up at night gossiping about boys despite her obviously having a crush on Dorcas. Y/N never said anything about it. That was something she had to figure out on her own terms. Still Y/N found it adorable whenever Marlene would look at the other girl with starry eyes.

Beside her, Dorcas would sit braiding Marlene’s golden hair into intricate plaits for the next day. Lily would be up finishing her homework but chiming in whenever Potter was mentioned. Always the bookworm with a bit of an adventurous streak coming from James Potter’s everlasting crush on her.

Finally, a sweet Y/N laid in her bed staring at the ceiling with that sweater clutched to her chest, listening to the gossip her friends passed around. She would chime it sometimes, gushing about the boy she fancied. Talking about how he made her smile and laugh so much her cheeks would be sore. Talking about the way he was the perfect guy, personality and looks wise. She loved talking about that special someone. It made her heart race and her cheeks burn with passion.

That special someone was obviously Remus Lupin, even if she never specifically said so. Tonight, however, she wasn’t so cheery about her crush, in fact, she was rather quiet. The other girls talked freely amongst themselves while she kept silent in her bed, just pondering what she was to do about everything.

“I just wish Sirius would quit fooling around and ask me out,” Marlene groaned. “He’s so hot, I get dizzy just being around him sometimes.”

“You said that about Thomas Brookstone last week,” Dorcas teased, rolling her eyes at the incredibly flaky nature of her best friend. She finished her long plaits and moved on to the large curler she used on her bangs. Y/N was always a bit jealous of Marlene and her golden blond hair, hanging to her middle back and sparkling in the sunshine.

Marlene was quick to defend herself, “It was a moment of weakness; you know my heart belongs to Sirius Black.” Yeah, right. Sirius was cute, for sure, but he wasn’t boyfriend material.

Y/N loved Sirius. He was a great friend, albeit a bit too flirty at times. He was charming and she could understand why Marlene would fall for him. Just like she could tell why Lily had taken a liking to James even if she denied it adamantly. Y/N thought James was just as swell as Sirius, being some of her closest friends outside the girls’ group.

She listened silently to her friends bicker on about crushes, Sirius and James, some talk of Dorcas potentially dating Peter, those kinda things. Nothing too important.

With a frustrated frown, she stared up at the canopy of her bed, her eyes trailing along the gold embroidery against the red velvet. It was dreadfully stressful. She felt completely sucked into her own little world, her heart beating steadily in her chest.

She brought the sweater up to her face and sighed at the scent, as if Remus was there laying with her right now. He smelled like books and cocoa and this strong cologne she loved.

“You’ve got any thoughts, Y/N?”

She snapped out of her haze, jumping from her place flat on her mattress to prop herself on her elbow. She shoved down the sweater, attempting to hide it under the covers. “Oh, about what exactly?” She asked, cringing now that they knew she was daydreaming again.

“About Sirius.”

“What about Sirius?”

The girl waved her hand through the air dismissively. “Nevermind. You’re always lost in your own thoughts, aren’t you?” Marlene laughed.

It was true. She got lost quite a lot, drifting between the real world and her imaginary one. One where Remus held her tightly to his chest like the night they danced around the common room to the record player all night long. One where Remus kissed her and held her cheeks in his strong, calloused hands.

Y/N was quick to reply, hoping she was correct in her assumptions. “I definitely think you should ask him out. He totally adores you.” She tried to be a good friend, really. Yet, she had no idea if the boy liked Marlene back. He never mentioned or hinted at it, from what she could tell.

“He’s like that with every girl.” Dorcas finished her friend’s hair, finally setting down her brush. “You’ve got to find yourself a new person to fancy. He’s too much of a player, practically romancing the entire student body at this point.”

“Not me,” Y/N replied.

Dorcas laughed, as did Lily. Her brows furrowed, confused at what was so funny. Was there something she was supposed to know? She squirmed a bit in her place on the bed, her eyes trailing to the carpeted floor.

Marlene answered her questions though. “Hun, Sirius flirts with you the most out of anyone, for obvious reasons...”

“Trying to make a certain someone jealous.”

“I never know what you’re talking about. Someone? Like who?”

“Just lay back down and keep daydreaming, Y/N. We know you’d rather be with your little boyfriend,” Dorcas told the girl, brushing off her oblivious nature. “Well, not so little, quite tall actually.”

“Shush. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a boyfriend.” Y/N did take the opportunity to lay back on her bed again, head hitting the plush pillows.

“I bet you’re thinking about him right now. Can’t ever get that boy off your mind.”

She clutched at the sweater under the blanket, holding it to her chest. They always made fun of her for her crush, nearly every chance they got. Really, Y/N was content just holding his sweater close and seeing him during the day. She was particularly proud each time she managed to get him to smile, a real genuine one. He was so dreamy when he smiled.

A soft curve to her lips indicated that she’d fallen victim to another fantasy, thinking of his grin, saved just for her. He was so handsome, with his fluffy brown hair and turtleneck sweaters. She thought of the way he bit his lip when lost in thought, reading a book or listening to an interesting transfiguration lesson.

Not that she stared at him all class. That would be weird. But it would explain her needing tutoring in the subject.

She was consumed by him, everything about him down to his tiny imperfections. He was mysterious in a way that peaked her interest, and snarky with people he didn’t like. He was kind to her, and tolerant of the rest of the group. He was just so perfect. So devilishly charming in his own special way.

Her heart beat faster and she felt heat rising to her cheeks. Her fingers dug into the jumper in her hands even tighter, wanting to bring it up to her face and hug it, getting a piece of Remus before she saw him the next morning at breakfast.

After seven long years of knowing the boys and rooming with the girls in the Gryffindor dormitories, she wondered if it was time to come clean. It felt like the stars were finally aligning in her favor. Her grades were better than usual, she had the best friends in the world, Christmas was right around the corner, and she was unbelievably happy, if not for the stupid Remus situation.

Her friends sat around Lily’s bed, going on about boys again, not that she was keeping track. She could barely pay attention, her mind was on the boy she fancied. He made her so dumb. So distracted she might as well give up on thinking about anything else but him.

The other girls already knew. It was only a matter of time before her heart had swelled so much that it burst. She needed to confide in someone.

“I think I’m in love with him,” Y/N whispered, interrupting their conversation..

Dorcas raised a brow, lifting her eyes from a magazine in her lap. The other girls didn’t bother sparing more than a glance before going back to reading. “Seems you’re the last to find out. I think even James was able to deduce that before you,” the blonde laughed.

“I know you like to make fun of me, but it’s serious.”

“And we’re serious about just pulling the poor boy into a broom closet and snogging him,” Dorcas added, “Remus isn’t so scary.”

“He cares for you so much, Y/N,” Lily assured, resting a gentle hand on her friend’s knee soothingly. It was quite obvious to everyone else except for the girl in question. If only she could clearly see in from the outside, through the eyes of anyone else there. “You should just say something to him.”

Y/N took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m just so scared to lose him. Remus is like my best friend.”

“And so she finally admits it,” Marlene giggled, “Remus loves you. There’s nothing you could do that would scare him away, sweetheart.”

It was only a bit reassuring to her, the things the girls said. It was easy to say those things when you were looking in from the outside, supposedly unaffected if disaster were to strike. If he were to be disturbed by her confession and turn her down, forever making their relationship complicated and uncomfortable.

Tears filled her eyes and she sniffled, covering her eyes with her forearm to keep the tears from dripping down her cheeks. She was such a crybaby. Remus didn’t want a crybaby. He wanted a smart and confident girl. Someone that would raise him up, not drag him down. Y/N was far too messy.

“I-I just love him so much. He means the world to me. I can’t risk ruining our relationship,” the girl whimpered. Marlene was quick to take a seat on the edge of the bed, running a soothing hand through Y/N’s hair. “He’s just so perfect and I’m so awkward. He doesn’t want me.”

“Don’t cry, please. It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” Marlene hushed.

Dorcas added, “If he breaks your heart, Lily will hex the shit out of him anyway.”

Y/N pulled the sweater out from under the blanket and pressed it to her face, taking in the scent and the feeling of the fabric against her skin. “He gave me this jumper, you know. I was supposed to give it back, but he never asked and it smells so good, just like him. I lay here every night thinking about his smile and his laugh, and his sweet honey-brown eyes. I think of his voice and his fluffy hair, and the way he always has chocolate frogs in his bag for when I’m sad. I just love everything about him.”

Marlene swiped her fingers under her eyes, blinking back some tears herself, “Damn, Y/N, you’re gonna make me all emotional.”

“I was wondering why you kept sleeping with that jumper. Figured you were just cold,” Lily hummed. “I think that’s really sweet. You should tell him what you just told us.”

“You’d melt his icy, cold heart, babe,” Dorcas said.

“You’d be surprised. He’s been sending me very mixed signals recently, and I really don’t think he’s interested,” Y/N confessed sadly, pressing her face into her pillows. “We get so close and then he just runs away. It’s like he’s scared of me or something. I-I don’t know what to do!”

“He’s a complicated guy. I think you should go find him. Figure all this out, like, right now.”

“It’s past curfew,” Y/N argued.

“Since when do those boys head to bed at curfew? They’re probably up talking about some stupid stink bomb prank or whatever,” the blonde argued back, “Maybe they’re like us and talking about their own crushes. Who knows?”

Again, Dorcas was right. Those boys would never fall asleep before midnight. They were probably wide awake plotting some shit while Remus read in his own bed, pretending to be disapproving of their behavior. He liked to prank and go on mini adventures, just didn’t want to stoop to their level of idiocy.

“Well, go on. Get to it,” Lily practically ordered, waving her hands towards the door. “I can’t stand seeing you drool over this boy any longer.”

Y/N didn’t stand up right away, not until Marlene took her hands and pulled her from the bed to her feet. She wore her pajamas with cartoon monkeys and bananas on it, and she wondered if she should change. It was kind of embarrassing after all.

“Really, I don’t have to tell him tonight. I’ll do it some other time, I swear,” she tried to say but was interrupted.

“Nope. You have to go now. We’ve decided that’s best for you.”

“Don’t you think this is rather sudden?”

“Don’t make excuses. If you come back to this room without shagging a certain bookworm in the broom cupboard, you’re sleeping on the floor.” That made her feel heat in her cheeks and she choked on air, coughing suddenly from the vulgarity of her friend.

Marlene pushed her out the dorm room and shut the door, making sure to lock it from the inside so she couldn’t get back in. They weren’t lying. If she didn’t do this, she might be sleeping on the couch in the common room for the night.

With a deep breath, she stood up a bit straight and walked towards the boy’s dormitories. She felt wrong being there, a girl sneaking into the boy’s dorms in the middle of the night. If someone saw her, they might think she was a massive pervert.

She rounded the corner, her eyes catching sight of the third door to the right, precisely where all four of the infamous marauders slept every night. Quickly, she scurried over to the large round door and stood in front of it, her fist hovering a few inches from the wood. She was afraid to knock. What if they were sleeping and she woke them? Would Remus be grumpy? Would James whack her over the head with a slipper?

She shuffled nervously, before hesitantly tapping on the door, praying that no one heard and she could just turn around and tell the girls everyone was asleep.

Only, that’s not what happened. She heard a loud crash from inside the room followed by some hurried talking. Footsteps approached the door and cracked it open just enough to peer out and see her dumbass standing there in her stupid pajamas, twiddling her thumbs.

It was Peter. She smiled awkwardly at him, and he let out a loud breath of relief.

“Y/N, I’ve never been so relieved to see you,” the boy exhaled, opening the door just enough for her to slip inside. She stared at him, confused at what he meant by that. He took her wrist, peering left and right in the hallway for watching eyes, then tugged her into the room. He shut the door behind her and flipped the lock shut.

She stared at the short boy, her mouth open but her brain empty of words. “Peter, what are you on about?”

“Y/N! Darling! What a coincidence you show up at this hour. We were just about to get you-“ Sirius started, until Y/N interrupted, her eyes latching onto the bubbling brew on the floor before her. It was smoking and quite grayish-green for a proper potion. She wondered what they could be up to at this hour.

“What are you guys trying to brew?” She peered around the room at the boys. James and Sirius were leaning over the pot with confusion on their features, James clutching at the recipe in his hand while the other held a wooden spoon. Peter was pacing, as the boy does when he finds himself at all stressed. Remus sat in his bed watching from the sidelines, presumably having been reading the book that he now sat at his side.

Tonight he must have been wanting to avoid their shenanigans for a change. He did that sometimes, when he was tired or he had been studying for a long period of time beforehand and wanted to relax.

“Healing potion, although we seem to have fucked up somewhere along the way,” James said warily, staring down into the disgustingly thick, bubbling liquid that burned from a makeshift heat source on the hardwood. “We have a prank coming up soon that might require some if it comes back to bite us in the ass.”

She hummed, reaching out to take their recipe from his hands and read the fine print, something the four of them seemed to ignore. It wasn’t that she doubted their ability to brew a complex potion such as this, it was just that they didn’t have experience with healing brews like she did, in fact, it was the one thing she actually enjoyed brewing. Everything else went over her head.

Perhaps that’s why they seemed relieved to see her. She’d made the potion for Remus in times of need quite a few times. “I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me to make you some in the first place. You know Slughorn lets me use the classroom when I ask,” she commented.

“You seemed stressed. We didn't want to bother you.”

“Nonsense. I’m always willing to help friends, even if it’s for less-than-honorable means,” Y/N brushed off their worries. She reached down to their pile of ingredients and took a pinch of mint leaf, tossing it into the pot and stirring with the spoon five times counterclockwise. “I should be able to fix this right up with a few tweaks.”

She added a few more things, stirred the pot and waited for the color to change and the bubbling to die down to a low simmer. Finally happy with the results, she spooned a bit into a vial and held it out to her friend.

“Oh, thank you, sweet angel,” Sirius replied, quite pleased , “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

She giggled, nodding her head at his words. “All the time.” He stepped forward carefully to take the potion vial from her hands and tuck it into his pants pocket for later. James spooned the liquid into a few more potion bottles he had sitting off to the side, putting them into a little sack to save for later.

She turned away from the pot, suddenly stuck in the precarious situation she came here for. She wondered if she could somehow sneak out without finishing her seemingly impossible task.

Peter furrowed his brows, now concerned with things other than an explosive, unpredictable potion that was previously in their room. “Y/N, why were you outside our dorm this late anyway? It’s almost midnight.”

“It’s a long story,” she replied, now thinking about why she was sent there in the first place. Her cheeks bloomed as embarrassment flooded her features. She wrung her hands in her lap, staring down at the monkey print on her favorite night shirt and pants. Everything is interesting when you’re trying to avoid the inevitable.

“We‘ve certainly got the time,” James chirped, setting his broom on the floor and plopping into his bed. “It’s awfully out of character for you to be sneaking about after curfew.” She cringed at his words. James was right. She would never leave her bed at this hour normally, especially not to show up at their room unannounced. She wrestled with her options on how she could explain herself without seeming like a bumbling idiot.

Her eyes flickered over to Remus, who appeared to be reading a book, distracting himself from the chaos at hand. Only each time she turned away, he peered back to see her pretty face. That innocent smile and her sparkly eyes.

“Didn’t even bother getting dressed. Must have been urgent,” Sirius inquired further.

She stood from her spot on the ground, her eyes staring off at the wall, and then at the floor, anywhere but in the eyes of one of her friends. “I came to see Remus.” Her words were very quiet, almost incoherent. Still, they all heard her. The boy in question peered up from his novel with a brow raised.

“Oooooh,” James cackled, “What did you do this time, Moony?” His friends teased him. Out of all of them though, Remus was probably the least likely to offend one of the girls and get a scolding. James and Sirius definitely outranked him on the mischievous scale.

“It couldn’t have waited til morning, Y/N?” He asked, voice seemingly caught in his throat. He swallowed thickly. What could she possibly need at this hour? From him of all people?

“Um, no. It’s rather important, actually,” she replied, a bit of nervousness in her voice, leading to some shaky words. “Let’s go outside for a minute, if that’s okay with you.”

He set down his novel on the nightstand beside his bed. He felt embarrassed as the guys winked his way and made crude gestures as he walked behind her out the door. His face was no doubt turning a light shade of pink just at the thought of her desperately needing to talk to him in the middle of the night.

He shut the door behind them, looking down at her expectantly. “So, what did you need?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. She noticed the way his hair fluffed up at the touch, and it made her heart beat just a bit faster than before.

“It’s a lot. Do you want to go to the sofas to talk?” She asked, but really she felt like she was just stalling what was bound to happen. He nodded regardless, and they found themselves seated beside each other on the velvety red sofa in front of the always-alight fireplace.

She crossed her legs under her and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest. Her eyes stared at the wisps of fire crackling beside them. Remus found himself growing concerned at the look in her eyes, seeing the fear and confusion in her gaze.

“You know I trust you more than anyone, right, Rem?”

“Yeah,” he lied. Images of her and Sirius whispering in the common room and the hallways and during class when they sat beside each other lingered in his mind as he agreed. Sometimes he worried he would always be second place to his raven-haired friend.

She took a deep breath before burying her face into the pillow she held, wishing she could just scream into it and run back to her dorm room to sleep away this nightmare of a confrontation.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and she couldn’t help feeling at ease seeing his soft brows and caring gaze back. “I like someone,” she confessed, “I like him a lot, like really bad.”

Even if her voice was muffled by the cushion, he heard what she said. His heart dropped in his chest. He knew this was coming, but he didn’t expect it so soon. He wasn’t prepared. All he could muster was a pathetic, “Ah, okay.”

“I want your advice.” Another pang in his chest. Was he really going to sit here and help her fall in love with another guy? He wanted to die right where he sat, that way he wouldn’t have to endure another second of this torment. “How do I tell him?”

“Guess it depends on the guy.” The guy she fancied was most definitely Sirius, if she liked someone in the group. James was off limits because of Lily being her best friend. Peter wasn’t her type. Remus barely thought of himself as a romantic person; he was neither charming nor charismatic, simply himself. He abandoned her the other night while the record played. He was barely best friend-material, far from boyfriend-material.

Sirius was handsome, charming, flirty, and just around wonderful. He noticed the way her smile dropped when Sirius left them alone in Hogsmeade. He saw the way she smiled whenever he called her that silly nickname. He watched everything happen right in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Remus was too afraid to.

“How would you like a girl to confess to you?” she asked further.

He sighed, staring over at the fireplace now. “I suppose I’d want her to be comfortable with me first. Comfortable enough she could just tell me without being nervous. I’d hate to make her feel intimidated,” he explained, “It would have to be private. Not in front of the guys, they would mock me endlessly.”

She urged one last time, wanting to squeeze out any more information he might be willing to give out, “Anything else?”

“I’d like to hear why she chose me. I’m not exactly the friendly type. Nor the funny type. Or the charming type. I don’t have much going for me,” he commented. When he looked back over at her, she was staring down at her hands wrapped around the pillow. She twiddled her thumbs nervously like she always did when she felt some anxiety rolling in.

“And what if she was in love with you? It wasn’t just a crush, it was more than that, has been for a while?”

He felt like crying. He didn’t know why. He was the one that pulled away when they almost kissed the other night. He was the one that brushed off her nicknames and her soft touches, the sweet cheek kisses she gave him when he sat on the couch and she approached silently from behind. He was the one that let her go into the arms of someone else. He let her fall in love with some other guy, and now he felt like a clown for wanting to cry over it.

Remus was beginning to think he just had shit luck, some kind of curse possibly.

“If someone told me they loved me, I would hope I loved them back. I’d hope they’d let me spoil them, kiss them, admire everything about them.”

“And if you didn’t love them back?” She was scared of his answer for this one, knowing there was quite a large possibility that he didn’t love her back. In fact, she was confident that he couldn’t love her. She was so silly and naive, and he was mature. He was so smart and handsome. He’d want someone better than her.

He thought about it for a moment. “I’d much prefer to keep a friend and pretend it never happened than to lose them entirely. I suppose we’d look past it and move on.” It was hard to say what exactly he would do. He’d had random girls come up to him and confess their crushes to him, but it was never anyone he was close with, nor anyone he had to interact with again.

She buried her face into the pillow one more time. Trying to calm her breaths so she didn’t seem suspicious. He wanted her to be relaxed when she confessed to him. She had to be comfortable, and normally she was comfy with him. It was just now she felt herself crumbling under his gaze.

“Can I ask who it is?”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep herself from saying something stupid. It was taking quite a long time for a Gryffindor girl to muster up the courage to confess her love to a kind boy like Remus. She was never very brave or strong. Not like Lily, Dorcas, or even Marlene.

“Remus,” she started, trying to find the words on her tongue. “Do you like anyone?” She mustered out, somehow finding a way to avoid her confession once again.

He nodded. She was sitting right in front of him, hugging a pillow for dear life as she talked about being in love with some other bloke. He just prayed it wasn’t one of his friends. The heartbreak he would feel knowing she liked Sirius that way would be indescribable.

She felt scared now, even worse than before. She wondered who she was competing with. Probably Dorcas. She was so confident and intelligent, and she had beautiful braids that fit her features perfectly, looking like a goddess every day. Maybe he liked Marlene. Marlene was nice, and oh-so pretty. She could hold a conversation about just anything.

What could Y/N do? Not much.

“Do you think she likes you back?”

“No. Even if she did, I couldn’t be with her.”

“Why not?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tiredly. “I’m a freak, Y/N.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head furiously. Her hand extended to hold onto his, running her thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to comfort him. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and he could see the conflicting feelings running through her mind.

“You are not a freak. Never say that again.” She was stern with her words, giving his hand a squeeze as she did so. Y/N wanted to reach out and cuddle him to her chest, telling him everything was going to be okay. That he was wonderful, and the man of her dreams.

“I could kill you. You do realize that, right?” He asked, and she just rolled her eyes.

“Yes, and James could come down here and Avada Kedavra me out of existence. Every full moon you come back to me worse than any of the others, so if anything, I’d say you’re more of a threat to yourself than anyone else.”

“Still, I hardly deserve it. She’s just so…” He peered over at her and then back to the fire. “Perfect.”

“And you aren’t?” She stared into the fire, too afraid to make eye contact. “Remus, you are so kind to me. You’re so charming and smart.” He felt himself blush at her generous compliments. It wasn’t often someone said such nice things about him. It meant so much, especially coming from her.

“Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself,” he replied calmly, but inside he felt his little heart might implode from joy. It didn’t take much for her to get his heart racing.

She continued, this time her voice just above a whisper. “I could fall asleep listening to just your voice, or your laugh. I’m addicted to hearing it.” The room was quiet save for the crackling of the wood logs in the fireplace and her quickened breaths. He didn’t say anything. He really didn’t know how to reply to that.

She took his silence as a means to keep going, to just display her heart for him to see. It was such a vulnerable moment, one where she felt weak. Powerless. Desperate.

“I spend my nights thinking about you. I hope you don’t mind, and I promise I’m not a weirdo, but I kept the jumper you lent me at Hogsmeade. It smells like you and I’m terrified it’ll lose your scent. I sleep with it just to pretend you’re close to me,” she confessed, feeling the fear leave her body the more she spoke. It was relieving to finally get this off her chest. To tell him everything she’d been keeping to herself.

“I’m not very good at this sort of thing, so forgive me. The girls just told me if I didn’t tell you tonight they were gonna lock me out of the dorms for the night. I know you just said not to be intimidated, but I am. I’m so scared, I’m shaking,” she commented, raising one of her hands to show the tremors that ran through her arm into her shaky wrist. “I’m so hopelessly in love with you, Remus. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“This isn’t some sort of elaborate prank, right?”

“Of course not. I’m not cruel.”

He leaned back on the couch and shut his eyes, keeping himself calm to avoid the tears that would inevitably gather in the corners of his eyes. He was so lonely. He was so scared of everyone hating him one day and leaving him behind. He never even imagined a girl as beautiful as Y/N walking into his life and falling in love with him for who he was.

“Remus? Are you okay?” she questioned nervously, worried that she really had ruined everything despite what he said earlier about pretending it never happened and moving on with their lives. She reached out to rest her hand gently on his upper arm.

He turned to her, looking down at her shy self hiding behind a throw pillow. She was so adorable, so perfect and pretty he felt like he was living in a dream. He tried to pinch himself awake, but she stayed the same.

Remus really didn’t know what overcame him in that moment but he felt himself lurch forward, hands going to cup both her cheeks. His lips found hers, and his eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t until he felt her kissing back with just as much fervor that he relaxed. Her lips moved slowly against his, so soft and plump against his chapped ones.

She pulled away for a moment, her lips just barely touching his as she laughed, “Guess you love me back?”

He just kissed her again. And again. And maybe a few more times after that.

[ironmandeficiency]

the hobbit + hozier songs

characters included: kíli, bilbo, dwalin, thorin, nori, bofur, ori, fíli, dori, tauriel

word count: 1166

a/n: the amazing and precious @wordbunch inspired me to write these bc of her lotr/th characters as taylor swift songs posts & i couldn't be more excited to finally post this labor of love!! thank you bestie for listening to me scream abt this for nearly two months lol

kíli: foreigner’s god

he loves outside of his race and this fact causes undue scorn to be thrown at his feet. it’s unheard of for almost any dwarf, let alone one from the line of durin, to do such a thing. this does not deter him - it empowers him; if his heart could go against the traditions forged into his bones, molten in his hot blood, how could it not be true? the strength of his love is what helps him ignore the doubts shouted by the prejudice plaguing those who know nothing of his heart. that, and the sound of your laughter at his antics, the soft smiles only given to him when he’s being a little too charming… he could go on.

bilbo: like real people do

as much flack as bilbo gets from the company for not being conventionally tough, he’s not weak by any means. he’s familiar with the pain of loss, and how the ways one tries to rise above the grief that follows aren’t always savory. he knows there’s a respect to be found in the absence of prying questions, choosing simply to coexist in the feelings and allow answers to come in their own sweet time. he’ll put some tea on to cook and scrounge up some leftovers from the previous meal, sitting beside you and letting the comfort flow naturally, his soft lips soothing the most tender aches.

dwalin: work song

just looking at him, you wouldn’t think dwalin a sap. but with his insanely strong sense of loyalty and stalwart dedication, he can’t be anything but. he’s faced down innumerable evils in his time, braved the fiercest of storms that many of his comrades didn’t; none of them even come close to keeping him from you. your arms welcome him home without question after each fight he braves, and your letters tucked into secret compartments in his armor keep him warm between embraces. he’ll read them by the fire every night when he’s away, every gentle word carrying his mind away from thoughts of the day’s turmoil.

thorin: sedated

this sweet, sad man doesn’t think he deserves good things in life. this, unfortunately, includes having someone love him despite his flaws and past mistakes. he couldn’t resist admitting his feelings for you and was ridiculously shocked that you reciprocated & allowed him to love you. on nights when he feels his failures deeper, he’ll try to convince you that he doesn’t deserve you. vitriol will escape from worried lips and terrified heart, piercing you in the way only a lover knows how. a soft kiss, gentle words, and a few strokes through his hair will soothe these wounds from him for a time and allow him some of the peace he’s fought to find, but doesn’t always believe is earned.

nori: it will come back

it was decades since the last time nori thought of love, even longer since he believed himself worthy of it. meeting you only solidified his disbelief; how could someone look at him and see someone that deserved such a pure thing, after everything he’s done in his life? he’s stolen, lied, cheated, and killed to survive (and sometimes not for mere survival). his attempts to spurn you away from him only increased your determination to break through the fortress he built around himself. he could only be strong against your advances for so long before he crumbled, reluctantly accepting the love and peace and safety you offered so freely.

bofur: nobody

bofur’s done a lot in his time. he was born in the blue mountains, a colony that never seemed to find the prosperity needed to do more than simply survive. he is a brother, uncle, cousin, friend, toymaker, miner, member of the great company that reclaimed erebor. but through all his adventures and hardships, he never lost his playful streak. he wants to have fun with who he loves, wants a little bit of mischief to make his laugh louder and brighter. bofur is a fun-loving soul who, despite his wandering past, will always choose you over anywhere that you’re not.

ori: francesca

ori’s life has never been a peaceful one. being raised by dori and being followed by the whispers of his late amad’s reputation (not to mention nori’s) without a mountain to call home, it weighed on his shoulders. even his craft, the pride of every dwarrow worth their beard, happened to be one seen as miniscule in importance compared to smithing. every moment spent with his one, doing anything or nothing at all, eases the burden he carries and makes every moment of strife worth it just to be with the soul made to mirror his.

fíli: i, carrion (icarian)

your love for him seems almost too good to be true, the remnants of stories told in dusty tomes written by those with far more eloquence than he can claim to possess. that being said, he is definitely not one to look a gift boar in the mouth. he relishes in each tender moment, every second spent in your presence that carries him far beyond the constraints life has placed upon him. but he recognizes that life isn’t always so simple, retreating into your arms and wishing that everything around you both just disappears. there’s always reality, waiting patiently outside of your chambers for one faulty misstep to throw you both askew. that’s why he dedicates himself to showing you that if life does what it does best and deals harsh blows, he will be there for you through it all.

dori: shrike

dori never had time for love; he had two brothers to protect, one more wily than the other was young. his focus was on getting his brothers through the days, putting food on their plates and the semi-frequently used stash of bail money well-stocked. he allowed his feelings for his one to fall to the wayside in the name of preservation. he ignored their call for decades and braved out the pain that came with such a silence. he begged for his one’s forgiveness every time they called for him. but once the mountain was reclaimed and his brothers safe, he yearned for what he could have had. he would approach his one with much regret and sorrow for the time lost, but a pure hope that they could find forgiveness in their heart for him.

tauriel: unknown/nth

to earn her love is a feat unlike that which the world has known for a long time. being seen as worth all these mortal struggles and painful toils in the eyes of an elf, let alone one as fierce as tauriel, is quite the achievement to anyone outside looking in. to the red-haired warrior in question, though, giving her love to you has the same unthinking ease as breathing; it’s beyond instinct to do and just as necessary to her survival. you’re worth every century spent alone, every moment after knowing you spent away from you.

[dozing-marshmallow]

Pls i NEED more Chris McLean x reader. I NEED😭🙏 ive read everything of him on here😓

So pretty please something like chris mclean x wife reader and like, the whole tdi cast gets to meet her bc they didnt believe that Chris had a wife at first?😇

TRUST ME WHEN I SAY I feel the exact same way😫 I love Chris so much and it’s such a huge pleasure that I can write for him while having other people who love him enjoy it as welllll. I will be writing him for a very long time so you can always expect something new evolved around him to come up ;)<3

CHRIS MCLEAN X WIFE! READER ONE SHOT

Having your daily hug with Chris, the tender moment reminds you of what he told you earlier.

“Were you being serious when you told me the kids laughed at you when you told them you were married?"

“Mhmm.” he responds from underneath you,“They called it a sick joke and told me that stand up comedy was way out my league.”

“Aw darling.” you kiss his forehead,“I’m guessing you’re gonna ask a favour for me to stop by to prove them wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow,“What do you mean? Stand up comedy is in my league. I just don’t prefer it, doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

He can be so silly sometimes,“I meant your marital status, baby.”

“Oh, yeah...” he holds onto your wrists,“Please?”

You let your body relax completely on top of his, still smiling,“Your wish is my command.”

“Aw what’s the matter, McLean? Couldn’t your wife make it?” Duncan was the first to pick up on ridiculing Chris, eyes still puffy from his chronic cries of laughter from last night. On another circumstance, Chris would’ve been fuming, had he not have reason to smirk.

“How sweet of you to worry, Duncan!” the host begins off, clasping his hands,“But she’s made it in one piece!”

On cue, you walk into the mess hall, linking your arm with Chris’,“Hii everyone! So happy to finally see you all in person!”

All conversation died.

Everyone turns to you.

This woman they’ve never seen before... 

His... His wife?

Were they hearing that right?

No way... He was being serious?

Chris was rolling on the inside at the shared alike look of being slapped spread across the contestants, especially of the mocking kind.

“I...didn’t know you had enough space in your heart to love someone else!” Beth’s the first to break out of her ice of shock to chirp.

“Surprised?” Chris chuckled, allowing you to introduce yourself, which was not what you guys decided.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N)! This hot mess’ wife...” turns out improvising in front of teenagers wasn’t as fun as it sounded,“Sorry, I’m...not too good with words, so...help yourself to these cupcakes I made for you guys. I made them as a way to say how huge of a pleasure it is to meet you all!”

As you turn around to unwrap the trays, Leshawna clears her throat to privately address the cohort,"One of two things are gonna happen. One, those cupcakes are filled with maggots and hair. Or two, it's the first actual food we're gettin’ on this set."

Everybody nods in agreement.

They were right to inspect the wrapping and texture with their noses and eyes.

Yet didn’t expect to have the flavour of delicate buttermilk crumble on their tongues.

Oh my God...

Maybe they were deprived from having treats so long on the show, but it was unanimously categorised as a whole new delicious nonetheless.

The punk delinquent scoffs over,“Yeah... I’m not buying that’s his wife.”

“That evil maniac with a permanent smile is probably holding her hostage!” The ginger geek dramatically pinpoints.

“I can see why, these are too die for!” Owen squeaks, scoffing down an entire cupcake, wrapping included, not comprehending what situation it would mean for you if you really were abducted.

“Hm... Maybe he’s paying her.” Gwen suggests alternatively after taking another glance at you: it was your arm around him. Too touchy to be forced...

“I’d understand if he was hot like me, but he’s not even halfway there! Where would he find someone willing to do all that for him? No amount of money should convince anyone to ever lose their dignity for the likes of him." Justin criticises out of his internal debate of skipping the cupcakes or not.

“You’d be shocked if you’ve seen the fansite.” Noah opposes like it was the most known thing.

Speaking of which,"Sierra.” Heather directs, taking sudden control of the situation and everyone’s eyes to peel towards the superfan whose mouth was staining in the same dye as her magenta hair, perking up from her snacking at the mention of her name,“You know everything about everybody. Say, is Chris paying that woman to pretend to be married to him for laughs?"

The girl whose lifeline was Total Drama quickly swallows the last portion of her cupcake to appease her idols with a packed answer,“Oh, no! It’s all true! Unfortunately. Those two got married way before Total Drama was aired. A lot's happened... My mom waited years for Chris to propose to her and there he goes, chasing after that nobody! Do you have any idea how painful it is to see my mom’s husband having an affair? (Y/N) is nothing but a block of concrete, blinding Chris from seeing his true soulmate! A.k.a my mom!” The last few sentences gradually grazed with personal prejudice, but not enough to throw the next cupcake away.

“Wait, but if Chris did get married to your mother... Wouldn’t that make you his stepdaughter-?“ Alejandro posited, already having a hard time imagining Chris take that role biologically.

"So Chris,” Cody interrupts the impending awkward ambient Alejandro’s phrasing would bring, steering the conversation back, still bewildered,“...really does have a wife."

Bridgette takes her slo mo time in grabbing another frosted vanilla good, rethinking, the same man that laughed at their pain,"I...honestly don't know how to feel about that."

"Huuu... I feel like I went overboard with cupcakes, Chris!” you freak out to your husband, fidgeting with the sleeves of your turtleneck,“Why did I pick to make something so childish? I should've picked something more formal... Like a dish from my home country..."

"Relaaaaax, no one else is thinking about that." Chris assured, biting into one of your delicacies.

You continued to murmur on,“I wanted to make something universal, a collection of sweets so in case one likes a certain flavour more than others... I thought teenagers around here liked cupcakes... I feel like such a fool... I hope they don’t think I see them as childish...”

He grabs one and holds it horizontally to your lips, painting them yellow,“It’s not just teenagers that like them, (Y/N). Besides, they are children. Children like things that are childish.”

That’s true... Your paranoia’s sunk,“Well... They seem to be enjoying themselves. I’ve been worrying for nothing.” you smile, drawing your finger on his stubble to take for licking,“You had some icing there.”

Turns out, you were really nice.

The angel to Chris’ devil.

The sun to Chris' moon.

The calm to Chris’ energetic.

“So (Y/N)... I just...have a quick question on behalf of everyone else.” The CIT girl shields her mouth with her hand, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“Of course, Courtney. Whatever would you like to know?” you welcome her, all kinds of possible questions cloud your mind.

She tightens your shoulders in her palms,“What the hell do you see in Chris?”

...You expected that one,“Why, I see a strong, handsome, hilarious man. A goal-driven, deep down caring, loving, in need of love man.”

Now the only true thing she heard was “goal-driven”- to kill them as spiritually as possible. Maybe even physically.

"You're not brainwashed, are you?" Her eyes widened like your answer had tossed her deeper in her horror.

"Get her to blink two times in a row if she needs help!" Tyler shouts, unintentionally defeating the purpose of being discreet from his clean intention.

"Hm?” Teenagers are so funny!,“It's not brainwash when it's love! After all, wouldn't you say you've found yourself in love with someone you never thought you'd be with?" You smile warmly at the type A when the butterflies fluttered an external reaction across her freckled face.

"Th-That's different!” she impulsively shrieked before closing her mouth in embarrassment. She looks around, and after making sure no one was judging her, she continues speaking, back to her whispering voice,“That’s Duncan. This is Chris.”

“Well, we both seem to have a type for the ones that went to jail, don’t we?” you wittily mention, giving her a wink to the similar parallel.

Leaving Courtney to her common dynamics contemplation, there was no better timing for Owen to ask if you had any more cupcakes to give.

“I’m so happy you liked them! I’ll tell you what, I can make more and send them to you."

“Don’t get too flattered. Bed crusher there would eat anything, even things you can’t call food.” The overruling antagonist scornfully gestures, her hair as black as her heart.

“...Ah, right.” you shouldn't have thought so highly of yourself over baking. To Owen, they probably weren’t good, just something to give his appetite.

“Well... That's not entirely true...” The foodie looks to the side uncomfortably for a moment from Heather’s harsh perspective,“Having eaten a lot of things gives me a solid judgement on a variety of tastes. With that said, I’d specifically be really happy to eat (Y/N)’s baked cupcakes again. You can't buy that kind of quality!"

Aw! “Thanks, Owen!” it’s no mystery why everyone was in his support back first season!

“You didn’t use any store bought cake mix, did you?” DJ asks, his naturally kind pitch of voice crunching up an otherwise accusing delivery his words may have played.

“Nope! If I was gonna have half of the ingredients already done for me, I may as well have just ordered the finish product.” the truth radiates through your magnetism, not as magnetizing as your husband, smothering you away in his arms.

For some reason, no one said anything right away. Like taking an exam, silence had scattered among these group of teenagers.

"I'm convinced she has Stockholm syndrome."

Up till Harold breaks it.

"Stockholm syndrome?! Come onn, you know that’s not a real thing!” Lindsay asserted, turning to Beth,“Is it a real thing?"

The nice-hearted nerd smacks a hand to her forehead. Rather than finding humor in uninformed Lindsay, Trent finds his eyes trapped on the sight of Chris’ hand holding onto yours, fingers locked, palms resting. Above all his faults, Chris...still had you.

That kind of love...hard to find, lucky to have.