#but what if i lie instead and somehow fic it myself

[bi-buck-coded]

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[damiansgoodgirll]

Can I request a Damian Priest x reader fic?, reader thinks Damian is cheating on her with Kayden so she distances herself from him and tries to avoid him. She's been hurt in the past (By ex partner) hence her accusations.

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are more than welcomed!

‼️angst, mention of cheating, feels, ex partners mentioned

odyssey of love

damian loved you. you had no doubt on that. he loved you more than anything, you were his partner, his ride or die, his best friend, his lover. there was no reason for you to doubt of his love for you. and yet, you couldn’t get past that feeling of damian and kayden being constantly together.

they’ve been friends for many years, he knew her before he got to meet you so you weren’t surprised there was a special bond between the two of them.

but having her around all the time was getting tiring. when you were at damian’s place, she was there. you didn’t mind filming their tiktoks, but you minded having her all the time when it was supposed be just you and your boyfriend.

you barely had free time together anymore.

car rides? she took your spot and now you felt like they were dating and you were the friend.

movie nights? she was always there, stealing your spot on the couch, getting more and more comfortable next to damian.

gym? he started training more with her than you, leaving you alone or with rhea sometimes.

your heart didn’t want to think that damian was capable of cheating on you with her, but your mind was playing tricks with you and at this point you were sure he liked her more than you.

rhea noticed how you distanced yourself when you were all out together. at dinner you always took spots near damian but now you didn’t even care, all you wanted to do was disappear.

you thought that after your past relationship, you finally had found peace with damian. he promised you that he would never hurt you, that he would never lie to you. he promised and you believed him. still healing from what your ex boyfriend left you with. trust issues, insecurities and a lot of traumas.

but damian was different, or so you thought.

you knew you had to confront him somehow. you deserved to know if he was cheating on you. you needed to know before you became paranoid. and when he texted you that he would come over at your place with food and drinks, you knew it was now or never.

damian knew that something was wrong the moment you didn’t greet him at the gym two weeks ago. he found it weird, maybe too weird. being used to your bubbly personality, he thought that something was wrong the exact moment you avoided him and kept training with rhea. he tried to have conversations with you for the past days but you always dodged him off.

he was tired of it. he needed to know what was going on. he needed to know if your feelings for him changed. so when he offered to have a take out night at your place, he hoped for you to say yes. and when you agreed, he was more than happy to see his girl.

you were lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear damian opening your front door with the spare keys you gave him once your relationship got serious.

sitting on the couch, you pretended to be lost in whatever show the tv was playing, waiting for damian to make his appearance into your living room.

“hey beautiful” he whispered, not wanting to disturb you as he thought you were interested in the show.

“oh, hey damian…” you made him sit next to you on the couch, helping you set the little table in front of you with all the foods he brought “did you leave any food for other people or did you take it all?” you joked seeing the amount of food he got.

he laughed, missing your sarcastic jokes “i did…i tried to contained myself but i trained all day with kayden and now i’m starving…” he joked, not noticing how your body tensed up at the mention of the young woman.

“we should eat before it gets cold…” you tried to avoid any weird feelings and instead focused on the food since you didn’t have lunch.

“uh uh…i want a hug first…and a kiss from you amor” he smirked. how could you say no? you were down bad for him and that hurt more.

you laughed, accepting him with open arms. you felt his head laying over your shoulder and his lips softly kissing your neck “i missed you so much baby…” he murmured softly, leaving more kisses upon your skin until he reached your face.

for a moment you forgot everything that has been happening and melted when his lips gently touched yours. his hands moved to your hips, as he sat down and took your place on the couch, he led you over his lap. your hands moved behind his neck, bringing him closer to your face “how i missed you baby…” he softly moaned.

you knew you had to stop before that led to something more. he was there for a reason and you wouldn’t have slept peacefully if you didn’t have your answers “baby…we should really eat, i’m starving” you whispered against his lips, making him smile into the kiss.

“fine…but later that night, i’m eating something else” he winked as he let your hips go so you could sit on the couch next to him.

your face blushing. he knew the power he had on you.

as you both ate, he asked you about your day and your week since he didn’t see you much. you’ve explained him what you were up to and when you asked him about his week, the answer he gave you made you sick.

why was kayden everywhere?

“…oh and she made me film probably ten tiktoks just yesterday” he laughed but got serious when he turned to look at you and saw your teary eyes “baby? are you okay?” he got worried.

“damian are you cheating?” you asked. no coming back now.

he was taken aback by your question. he wasn’t cheating so he didn’t know why did you get that idea “mi amor…what?” he turned off the tv so there was nothing distracting you from the conversation you were going to have “por favor, mirame…why would you think that?”

you couldn’t help but let those tears fall “it’s just…you’re always with her…”

“with who amor?”

“with her, kayden…and i feel like i’m not enough for you anymore…” you didn’t mean to sound so weak but even the thought of damian cheating on you was killing you.

“y/n, baby…no, why would you think that?” his voice softened as he helped you sitting between his legs “nothing’s going on between me and her, i promise you…”

“she’s everywhere damian…she took my spot in your car, she took my spot on the couch next to you, she took my spot at dinner…she’s always there to film tiktoks and then making excuses to stay more…she started training with you so i had to train alone everytime rhea wasn’t available…i just need to know if you don’t want me anymore damian…” your voice broken with sobs as more tears fell down “please…i deserve to know…i don’t wanna go through this all over again, not with you…” you broke down crying even more.

damian’s heart broke. he couldn’t believe he was the reason you were crying in his arms. he knew about your ex relationship and he promised you to protect you, to be there for you “hey hermosa…shh…don’t cry baby, it’s okay…” he whispered trying to calm you down. your head was laying on his shoulder while your tears flew into his t-shirt.

he kept whispering soft words to help you calm down and when your breath slowed again, he gently lifted your head up so he could take a good look at you. his hands went to wipe away all the tears that kept falling and he saw it in your eyes that somehow he broke your trust.

“everyone think you’re dating…i see the comments, i see people saying that you broke up with me and they’re happy about it” you spoke up “and if you are dating i need to know, please…don’t go behind my back like this, i can’t handle it again…” damian never heard you sounding so broken and he hated himself for letting this happen.

“listen to me amor…there’s nothing, absolutely nothing between me and kayden…we are just friends and that’s it, i promise you” he sounded so serious and you tried your hardest to believe him but due to all your trust issues, you didn’t know if what he was saying was true or not “i know you’re hurt right now…i understand and and im so fucking sorry…no te imaginas cuanto lo siento” he was trying to gain your trust back but he knew it was hard and he had to work for it “i never meant to make you feel like that, i wished i realised it sooner, i wouldn’t have let this happen, i promise you…”

a tear fell from his eye. he couldn’t stand the idea of losing you. you were everything for him. his first real love, his best friend, his partner in crime. you were his missing piece and he loved you too much to let you go.

“i believe you damian…” you sobbed a little, still trying to slow down your tears “it’s just, i felt so fucking jealous and paranoid this past week. you were constantly with her and everytime i tried to get to you, i felt like i was overstepping…”

he closed his eyes to stop more tears from falling. he was hating himself for all the pain he caused you “i don’t think i’ll ever stop apologising for the pain i caused you…but you have every right to know that there’s nothing between me and her…i don’t wanna lose you, you mean too much for me.”

you saw how vulnerable he was. you saw how he was trying his best not to break down in front of you “you’re not gonna lose me damian…i love you so much…i should have talked with you about this instead of attacking you of cheating, i’m sorry…” you realised that maybe overreacted but now you relieved.

“it’s okay…i should have noticed it sooner, i never meant to ignore you and i promise it will never happen again, te lo juro” he smiled softly and you nodded, letting your head fall on his shoulder as his hands moved gently on your back, trying to release all the pent up stress you had.

you stayed there for a few minutes before you both continued to eat. you spent the night cuddling on your couch and damian stayed true to his promise as he made love to you all night long, showing you that you were the one he wanted.

not her, you.

———————————

por favor mirame = please look at me

no te imaginas cuanto lo siento = you can’t imagine how sorry i am

te lo juro = i promise you

[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Stuff of Fairytales - Floyd

Author Notes: Happy MerMay Twisted Wonderland! I won't lie, this fic kind of flew together while I was just sitting and chatting with my mom and sister. It doesn't have any specific music that it was written to or anything like that and my only real idea that went into this was MerMay. Nonetheless, I had fun writing this fic. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ MerMay/ fluff/ romance implied/ sfw

Word Count: 1264

Ignoring Floyd was always something that one did at one’s own risk. Especially when he was staring quite as pointedly as he was staring at me right now. And even more especially so considering that I was sitting on the edge of the pool while Floyd was in his merform.

He drifted over, and I cautiously met his stare, not entirely sure as to what I should expect from him.

For one thing, he’d been oddly peaceful this entire time. And while that didn’t necessarily mean anything, it still felt suspiciously like the calm before a storm.

He tilted his head, slowly coming to a steady stop right in front of me before crossing his arms and resting them on my knees, where I had my legs hanging over the edge of the pool and in the cool water, “Hey Shrimpy, did your world have any merpeople?” 

His tone was relatively innocent, but I still felt my eyebrows lift warily before I shook my head. Half-surprised by his question even as I answered him, “No… They’re the stuff of fairytales in my world…. Kind of like magic is.”

He hummed, rolling his mismatched eyes up to meet mine as he rested his chin on his arms. Almost as if he were, suspiciously enough, trying to look innocent.

I watched him silently for a moment before finally biting the bullet and questioning him as he continued to stare up at me, “Why?”

That singular word had a grin splitting its way across his face, perfectly displaying his too-sharp teeth that made so many others uncomfortable.

But just like how I’d somehow gotten used to his merform’s slimy texture, I was perfectly used to his sharp-toothed grins by now.

“Nothing~ It just explains why you had such a cute, surprised reaction when you first saw mine and Jade’s merforms.”

I rolled my eyes slightly at his teasing tone, even as I smiled despite myself at his words, “You say that like I was the only one who was surprised. I seem to recall Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Grim all being pretty shocked too.”

Despite my words, I couldn’t deny that I had been genuinely startled. Floyd and Jade were nothing like the fluttery, magical creatures I’d imagined as a child. Instead, they were far more dangerous-looking. Something that was fitting, considering their personalities.

But even then, there had still been something enchanting about seeing a merperson for the first time. Much less two of them.

Not that I was ever going to tell Floyd that. He was already amused enough as it was.

Floyd faux-pouted up at me in an almost playful manner, “But none of them were cute. They just looked like a bunch of guppies silently opening and closing their mouths.”

He paused as I fought the urge to snort at his analogy, and, as if somehow he could sense my amusement, he grinned again. His tail slashing through the water as his eyes all but sparkled at me, “You weren’t like that though, Shrimpy. Your eyes were all bright. Like you were excited.”

I almost sighed at his pointed, pleased-sounding words. Because while I couldn’t say that they were wholly accurate, they were a little too perceptive in a way that I could only describe as very Octavinelle.

Floyd, Jade, and Azul were all practically uncanny when it came to their ability to hit upon something people didn’t want them to know.

“I wasn’t excited….” I trailed off unconvincingly, not entirely sure how to defend myself in this situation since he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Lying would be useless. Floyd was so used to his brother’s slippery nature that he would be able to see through any fib I came up with in a nanosecond.

I didn’t have to rush, though. Floyd was waiting. An amused smile on his face as he waited for me to give up in a rare display of patience from the usually restless young man.

But then, I supposed being patient might be easier when victory was assured. His grin wasn’t making it any easier for me to come up with an excuse, though.

“Well, how would you react if you suddenly saw something out of a fairytale?!” I gave up in an exasperated half-surrender.

I refused to tell Floyd that a slight bit of childish enchantment and awe had shot through me when I’d first seen him and his brother’s merforms.

Doing that would just result in him telling his brother, and then there really would be no escaping the teasing and harassment.

As it was, I would just have to put up with Floyd’s teasing and amusement until he drifted onto another topic. He might bring back up my initial reaction to his merform every so often, but I could deal with that. 

After all, it was only fair with how often I got to pick him on numerous things as well.

At odds with my expectations of his laughter, Floyd straightened from where he’d been resting his chin on his arms this entire time and tilted his head in a thoughtful fashion.

After a brief moment, he grinned, and something ever-so-slightly worrying flickered through his mismatched eyes as he met my gaze once more, “I guess I’d squeeze ‘em.”

Before I could even think about reacting, his arms were wrapping themselves around my waist. Pulling me closer and squeezing me with a surprising degree of care considering who it was that I was dealing with.

I gasped slightly in surprise at both his actions and the cold from his wet arms, my hands flying up and grabbing hold of his shoulders in a slight panic. Not entirely trusting him to not pull me into the pool with him.

I didn’t go splashing down into the water though, and my reaction only caused Floyd to grin even more at me, “Your reactions are too much fun, Shrimpy~”

His words were all but cooed, and I frowned slightly, “Floyd, you know your slime is hard to get out of clothes.”

I scolded him in retaliation, continuing to frown down at him, but my words were met with little more than a nonchalant shrug from the merman, who certainly didn't seem like he was going to be letting go of me anytime soon.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content, smiling up at me from the pool that I was now perched precariously on the edge of. Fully relying on Floyd to keep me balanced as he held onto me.

He smiled, tilting his head slightly, perfectly unbothered as he grinned up at me, “Just use the washer at Octavinelle and tell Azul it’s my fault.”

I sighed at his words, feeling myself surrender ever-so-slightly as I let a smile slip onto my face. Sometimes it really did feel like there was no winning against Floyd, and, to be fair, his plan probably would work.

Azul was nothing if not used to Floyd’s mercurial ways that often caused him troubles. 

I relaxed, letting my hands continue to rest easily on Floyd’s shoulders as I smiled down at him, “Just don’t come whining to me later.”

 He outright grinned at my words, his eyes sparkling in an almost challenging way, “No promises~”

I shook my head fondly at both him and his words as I continued to smile down at the man who hugged me close to him.

Floyd himself might not exactly be the stuff of fairytales, but he was definitely  unforgettable, and there wasn’t a thing I would change about him. 

Even if he could be a pest sometimes.

[oleander-nin]

Im not sure if you still take reqs so sorry if you dont but can you do yandere donnie with a reader thats really bad at taking care of themself? Like they’ll stay up until like 5am playing videogames and end up sleeping in so much they decide to skip breakfast and lunch then end up eating a snack instead of a real meal for dinner because its to much work

A/N, not important: Uhh, I think I may have done this wrong- I had an idea, but somehow this came out instead. If it's majorly not to your tastes, send the request again and I'll try again. Thank you sm to @lethelagoon for the title and for helping me with the fic! Also this is posted on the tenth and not the third because I posted smth on the first and decided I could just skip to this week. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: mention of feeding tube, descriptive, mentions of drugging, pills, needles, abuse, kidnapped reader, dark themes, yandere themes

Words: 1357

Summary: Donnie comes home and finds out you broke his rules. Again.

“Do we need to go over your schedule again?” Donnie’s smooth voice sounds from behind me. I look towards him, shrinking down in fear. I set the console SHELLDON swore I was allowed to use down, racking my brain to try and find an excuse to get out of this. It had taken me three months to convince him I was fine being left alone, three months to convince him I wouldn’t break the schedule he created for me. Yet here I was, caught with the console on and his(or ours, as he liked to claim) bed unmade, the clock shining the traitorous numbers brightly. It was three in the morning, and Donnie had just returned from a mission, catching me in the act. I gulp. This was not going to go well.

“Well?” He asks, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. A scowl was on his face, signaling his distaste to the world. I chew on my cheek, opening my mouth and closing it over and over, trying to think of something to say. I didn’t want to be drugged again. I wouldn’t let him drug me again.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I say. It was a half-truth, which is better than a full lie. He can’t prove I wasn’t having trouble sleeping. Hopefully he won’t realize I never tried.

Donnie scoffs, a scowl set on his face. “Then you ask SHELLDON for sleep medicine. That is not an excuse and you know it. Gosh, you’re so- UGH!”

I cower back, my hands starting to shake as he paces around the room, his arms flailing as he continues to rant. I was going to be punished again, I was sure of it. Images of the isolation room and chains flashed through my mind, the slick taste of pills burning my throat. I couldn’t go through that again. I never wanted that to happen again.

Noticing my shaking, Donnie rolls his eyes and crosses the room in quick succession. He scoops me into his arms, holding me close while he continues to grumble under his breath. His arms were tense, the muscles more defined due to his anger. I couldn’t help the wave of panic coursing through my veins, my mouth going dry. 

I brace myself for the sharp pinch of a needle, but it never comes. I glance at his face, his dark eyes boring into mine. He wasn’t pleased, that was certain, but I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t freaking out. Last time I did something like this, he stripped the room of anything I could mess with and kept me locked up for a month. I still remember the pills he brought in, every night at seven. I shudder at the thought, the feeling of my body shutting down and pulling me into an unwanted sleep. 

He continues to stare at me, scanning my face slowly. He sighs in irritation, adjusting me in his arms before carrying me further into the room and setting me on the bed. He sits on the edge, his eyebrows furrowed as he takes his gear off slowly, letting each glove and padding fall to the floor. His steady hands were shaking in anger, his drawn eyebrows furrowed. My chest is tight in fear, knowing what was to come. The only wonder I had was why he was taking so long. I watch his face, trying to look past his eyes and learn what he was thinking. His silence was never good, a painful indicator of how ruthless he could be. Silence was a warning with Donnie, never a blessing.

“You didn’t listen.” He says, his voice tight. He’s not looking at me, his eyes trained on the floor. His hands squeeze the blanket of his bed, his green knuckles going white from the force. My blood runs cold and I desperately try to think of a way to fix this. He looks back over at me, his eyes narrowed and furious. “Why? Do you think I’m wrong? Do you not see the way I love you and want you to improve?”

I stay silent, unable to form a response. I didn’t know how to tell him the way he loved me was wrong in every way possible. I didn’t know how to tell him I still wanted, no needed, my escape from reality. 

His eyes wash over me again, my body feeling heavier with each look he gave me. It was like every time he scanned my body, another layer of fear and shame was set on my shoulders. The room was getting smaller, my lungs struggling to take in air. My left hand crosses my chest and sits on my shoulder, my right digging painfully into my thigh. I couldn’t do this. I wanted to go home. I hate him, I hate him so much. I can’t do this, I can’t be near him. All he does is hurt, and take, and I can’t leave. I was going to die here, stuck under the sick obsession of a mutant turtle.

I feel his hand on my back and I try not to cry, panic and fear growing until I feel as if I would pop. I couldn’t live like this, not any longer. I look up, seeing the way his face had tensed. I could see his lips moving, but couldn’t hear the words. I feel my throat ache from the held back tears, my entire body thrumming in sync with my heart. It was too fast. His room was too dark.

“Breathe.”

I suck in a sharp breath at the order, my body conditioned to do as he says without question. His hand goes under my chin, gripping it firmly, but not harshly. He makes me look into his eyes, the same eyes that were unbothered as he locked me away for weeks. The same eyes that stared angrily as he shoved a feeding tube down my throat when I forgot to eat. A sob bubbles from my chest as I try to pull back, survival instinct kicking in. His grip on my chin grows tighter, his other arm looping around my back and holding me in place. He places his forehead against mine, his lips moving once more. I could feel the words around me, the vibrations in the air, but I couldn't hear them. I could understand what he was saying, but I didn’t know what he said.

I continue to cry involuntarily, the hand holding my chin shifting to cup my cheek so he can wipe the tears as they fall. It didn’t help, his thumb wasn’t fast enough to wash them all away. I sit like that for nearly twenty minutes, the world around me crashing down and landing on my chest. My vision swirls with each sob while Donnie continues to hold me and whisper useless, silent words.

My vision swims one last time before the room starts to come back into focus, a harsh ringing in my ears. Donnie’s face is inches from mine, his drawn eyebrows furrowed. I stare at them through my sniffles. I never noticed he didn’t take off his mask. I try to turn my head to look at the room, but his grip on my face is strong.

“Are you done?”

I blink at him, his thumb roughly swiping my cheek as a stray tear falls. I forgot how his voice sounded for a moment. I take a deep breath, nodding. I didn’t have any other way to tell him, and I doubted I would fall into another fit. His hands fall from my face and I lean my neck back, staring at the ceiling. I felt numb, like my tears washed away every emotion my body once held. I couldn’t tell if I felt free, or even more suffocated. It was surreal, having my body be able to go through such stress before falling back as if nothing had happened.

Donnie’s hands trail down me, as if he was afraid I’d fall apart if he let go. They loop around my waist, pulling me firmly into his lap before he shifts on the bed and falls backwards, keeping me on his chest. I don’t fight it this time, letting him press a kiss to the crown of my head while he slowly rubs my back.

“This is what happens when you don’t listen, love.” His voice is quiet, one hand leaving my back to take his mask off while the other holds me tight. I let my head fall, my cheek pressed uncomfortably against the hard of his plastron. I let my eyes close, too tired to fight him any longer. I feel his chest vibrate as a small chuckle can be heard from him. “There you go. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up so we can discuss your new schedule. This will never happen again.”

I feel my stomach churn at his words, but I do nothing more than hum in agreement. I couldn’t fight anymore, my energy zapped. I just hoped I could sleep in tomorrow. I would delay a talk with him forever if I could. I take another breath and sleep comes for me, dragging me down into the darkness of my mind.

[gunnrblze]

Roommate!Hesh

Hello friends. This is my first actual lil piece of writing I’m posting (in this fandom, on this account lol). I’m debating turning it into a full fledged fic, so if you’re intrigued by that I’d love to know! Not to abase myself or anything, but my writing is quite mid lmfao, I just enjoy my silly thoughts n ideas so here you go :)

•1k+ words, SFW, could possibly be read as some slight stalker-ish behavior if you squint, but nothing actually dark like that! The man is just down bad :(

You weren’t exactly sold on living with a stranger yet. Especially not some army guy, but you had little choice.

Desperately needing a roommate after moving to Santa Monica, a friend mentioning a friend of theirs who has a brother. A brother who happens to be looking for a roommate too.

You trusted your friends judgement enough to pursue the recommendation. Figuring that living with a special forces soldier could either be pleasantly uneventful, or a dumpster fire, based on what you knew of the type.

But David, or Hesh as everyone reportedly calls him, was decent. Clean, respectful, kind when he toured you around the apartment. The near boyish charm that laced itself between his heavy presence may have caught your attention.

But a fling, especially with a new roommate, was not what you needed.

Your room was smaller than his, but having gotten to the apartment second to him, you understood first come first served. You just enjoyed the in-unit washer and dryer and stainless steel appliances, if you were being honest.

The apprehension you had, the hang ups of starting a new chapter, moving in with someone you only just met through a friend of a friend, started to dissipate sooner than anticipated. Instead filled in by a dull surprise.

Hesh worked pretty often, but even when he wasn’t around, it’s as if he were still there.

His section of chores always finished, some of yours even started or done completely for you. You asked him about it after divvying up the household responsibilities, making sure you weren’t confused.

But he insisted it was “no biggie”, he’d just found himself taking the trash out on his way to work. Tidying the kitchen up after he got home in the middle of the night and cooked himself an impossibly late dinner.

Said dinner he left in the fridge the next morning, a sticky note on top explaining that you should finish it up so it doesn’t go bad.

Leftovers usually kept for days though, didn’t they?

His boots by the front door, the smell of his aftershave somehow lingering everywhere throughout the apartment, his hat left in the bathroom and the goddamned coasters that he insisted be used around the living room.

When he wasn’t there, it felt like he was. A ghost permeating the walls. His broad frame, tall and wide, voice deep, green eyes that somehow always landed on you when he was near. They weren’t quite unsettling eyes, they were penetrating. As if he could see what lie inside you, too.

But when he was there, it felt almost arresting. Interrupting. You barely knew him, only lived with him for a few weeks.

But you weren’t sure whether you could tell if it even felt that way anymore.

Anything he bought, you were free to use or eat. Was he just that nice? Your old roommates wouldn’t let you touch their things with a 10 foot pole. But what was his seemed to be yours in a way, too.

You chalked it up to him being an eldest child. But you weren’t merely being treated like a younger sibling.

Your Netflix subscription ended and you didnt want to spend the money to renew it, but it didn’t matter because Hesh had Netflix too. Which meant you had it.

Hesh had every kind of household tool one could need in his toolbox, which meant that you had them now too.

Except you couldn’t use them. Because he’d fix whatever you needed. Hang up any picture frame of yours on your wall as you started to decorate your space. And you merely let him, somehow unable to insist that you could indeed, handle it.

It was only natural when he’d asked if you wanted breakfast one morning, explaining that he made too much food. Too much of your favorite food. Or when he not so subtly watched how you made your tea, filing it away in his brain so he could bring you a cup one day when you were sick in bed.

And then some cough drops. And soup. And cold medicine.

Maybe you felt a bit like a guest at a bed and breakfast, or maybe he was just raised decently.

When the washing machine broke, he took a look at it before you could even bring it up to him, was he listening to you in the laundry room? Hard to say. Fixed it so you could do your loads of laundry.

But not before letting you borrow a t-shirt of his, since all your clothes were dirty, of course. You’d obviously have to wash the one you had on, too.

You thought you were surely screwed when your car broke down outside of work one day. But when you texted Hesh and asked if he knew of a good mechanic. he was, naturally, already in the area just running errands.

So he took a look at your car while you stood to the side and watched. Making a point not to watch his biceps flex around the ring of his t-shirt sleeve, or the way he brushed the sweat off his forehead.

Surely you were paying attention to his explanation of the drive belt in your car being too wore out, and not the way his fatigues stretched over the meat of his thighs.

Why was he in his work uniform if he was just running errands? You didn’t think about it very much.

Your job had been stressing you so much, and it appeared something like second nature for him to wrap you into a hug, rubbing his hand up and down your back, murmuring things that seemed too dulcet for a roommate of hardly even a month to soothe you with. Even though it helped.

He was always there, his magnetism suffocating. But not in the way that two hands might feel around your neck. But in the way the sunshine feels beating down on you. The way you feel tipsy before feeling fully drunk, charged but blissful.

Pleasantly inescapable.

You didn’t really stop to fully question his comforts though, not when he made you a cup of tea and put a movie on in the living room, sitting a bit too close to you.

Not that you minded of course, considering you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder.

And what kind of roommate would he be if he didn’t pick you up and tote you off to your bedroom? He knew you were half awake, and you knew he knew, but it didn’t matter.

With one arm hooked under your knees and the other around your back, your face that didn’t need to be pressed to his chest, it just didn’t matter.

Because what kind of roommate would he be if he didn’t lay you in your bed and cover you up, setting your alarms on your phone so you’d wake up the following morning?

How did he know your passcode? How did he know exactly what alarms you set?

It didn’t really matter to you after he kissed your head goodnight.

[cambion-companion]

Hi I like your blog ^_^ I was wondering if I can request a soft NSFW oneshot of Aemond feeling insecure about his eye and scar, but (fem!) reader lovingly rides him and gives him all the attention? I just want him to feel good 🤧

Hi guys! I love the idea of Aemond and his wife overhearing some ladies gossiping about Aemond's eye and what horror may lie beneath...upsetting him and it's up to the reader to pull his thoughts back to her...it does get smutty towards the end so 18+ only (also this somehow became a continuation of my Lannister!reader fics...must be the wine.)

word count: 2500

Medieval insults here

Aemond x fem!Lannister!reader | upset Aemond | comforting Aemond | smut | first time sapphire reveal

“That’s Lady Beesbury.” ��You took a sip of wine from your golden goblet, leaning closer to Aemond as you spoke. “She’s a horrible creature.  Called me a ‘crooked-nosed fopdoodle’ just yesterday.”

Your betrothed, who had also taken a mouthful of his red wine, choked.  You patted him heavily upon his back several times as he coughed and laughed.  A tear streaming from his lilac eye, Aemond looked at you incredulously. “She…she did not.”

“On my honor as a Lannister, she did.”  You tilted your glass, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you nodded.

“I don’t disagree entirely on the ‘fopdoodle’ aspect.”  Aemond chuckled into his drink. “However, your nose isn’t crooked.”  He reached out, tweaking your nose between two fingers.

You made an undignified squeaking noise, rearing away from him, pushing his shoulder playfully. “If I am a fopdoodle, you are a mandrake mymmerkin!”

“Hmm. Harsh.”  Aemond cut you a sidelong look. “Yet you seem more than satisfied with how I attend to your desires.”

You ignored his mischievous glance, instead gesturing toward a group of foreigners, their furs still draped about their shoulders despite the heat of the Keep.  “Who are they?”

“Northerners by the looks of them.  Botons perhaps, due to the unsavory pallor of their cheeks.”  Aemond sniffed, his brow furrowing in distaste.  

“Yes.  I’m none too fond of the North, myself.”

“Snow doesn’t befit a lion?”  Aemond teased, pressing his shoulder affectionately against your own.

“Nor a dragon.”  You smiled at his familiar touch, savoring the smokey scent of him.

You lapsed into silence, both watching as the Bolton group, tousled of hair and wan of face, shuffled from the great hall.

Aemond placed his hand at the small of your back, his fingers probing the scarlet silk of your dress.  He caught your eye, opening his mouth to speak but the chatter of young women cut him off as a group of them swept into the hall. “…what’s beneath.”  The tallest of them was saying, her auburn hair shining straight, lit by the setting sun. “He wears that eyepatch at all times.”  You glanced at your prince, noting the sudden tension in his jaw as the girl continued. “Some say there’s ghastly ball of flame where his eye used to be.”

“Others say it is rotten, and not to get too near for the smell of it.”  Another girl piped up, her friends nodding at her shrill words.

“It’s obviously the reason he keeps to himself so much.”  The red-haired lady spoke again. “He’s a cripple for life. He would be handsome otherwise I dare say.  No one desires him.”

You felt Aemond leave your side, the absence of his presence sending a cold chill down your side.  Turning, you saw him departing, his long silver hair swishing against his rigid back as he strode from the hall, unnoticed by the gaggle of gossiping girls.

“I desire him.”  You said firmly, making a split-second decision, walking purposefully toward the group of women.  

A dark-haired lady scoffed at your words, her expression mocking as she looked you up and down.  Her brown eyes registered the scarlet gown you wore, your golden hair and fierce green eyes, the lion pendant upon your chest.  She decided better than to speak, biting her words down as she closed her mouth.

You appraised her down your nose. “Wise choice, girl.”

“Who are you?”  The leader of the pack, the redhead, half-snarled at your unwelcome presence.

“Y/N Lannister.”  You answered, your fiery gaze flicking to her face. “Betrothed to Aemond Targaryen.  I won’t ask for your names as they are sadly irrelevant.”  You leaned forward, imposing as you stood taller than any of them. “Mark me well, ladies, for this will be your only warning.  Speak ill of our prince again and I will make sure you and your families are cut off entirely from the Lannister coffers.”

“Is that a threat?”  The most vocal of the women spoke, trying to mask her fear.

“It’s a promise.”  You tilted your head at her, a smirk tugging your lips.  “You’d be lucky to get away with simple poverty.”

With a swirl of your silken gown you departed, leaving the girls gaping at your retreating form.  

You found Aemond in his chambers.  Entering unnoticed, you closed the door quickly, bolting it behind you.  He was seated before the fire, the window behind him framing a darkening sky of deep blue streaked with the last orange rays of the sun.  

You knew he heard your entrance but did not raise his head to meet your gaze as you approached where he sat.  “Aemond.”  You lowered yourself to the cushions beside him, reaching out to tuck a gentle finger beneath his chin. “My dragon.”  You tilted his head up, meeting no resistance as at last his eye met your own.  “They’re nothing, Aemond.” You tactfully ignored the redness around his purple iris, the dampness of his cheek. He moved away from your touch, you lowered your hand to your lap, still keenly studying his face. “They’re ignorant young women with wicked tongues.  Give them no credence.”

Aemond was silent several long moments.  He stood, approaching the fire, staring into the dancing flames. “It was the night I claimed Vhagar as my own.”  He spoke low, almost a whisper. “My nephews…attacked me.  I fought them off, but one brought a knife and, well…”  He turned to face you, gesturing toward the side of his face covered by the eyepatch.  

“Why did they attack you?”

Aemond shrugged. “They felt entitled to claim Vhagar.  They feel entitled to a great many things. Even my eye.”  His face darkened. “I should have fed them to my dragon.”

“No, Aemond.”  You rose fluidly to your feet, taking his forearms in your hands. “Kinslaying would have had dire consequences this world would never recover from.”

“Yes, I know.”  Aemond sighed, pressing his forehead against your own. “I can promise you, however, that there isn’t some ghostly flame where my eye used to be.”

“May I see?”

The prince was silent again, his fingers gripping your own forearms tightly as he looked down at your upturned face.  “Yes.”  His expression was solemn, guarded, as if he expected you to recoil the moment you saw him unmasked.

He made no movement, so you took it upon yourself to slowly reach up, hooking your fingers beneath the band of his leather eyepatch.  You carefully removed the fabric from his head, revealing the vertical scar in its entirety.  Where his eye had once been now sat a sparkling sapphire cut with many facets that reflected the firelight.

Your fingers traced along the scar as Aemond watched your expression carefully, he made to turn his face away, but you caught his jaw in your hand. “Aemond…you’re beautiful.”  You giggled at the slack expression on his face. “This is beautiful.”  You rose up on your tip toes, placing the softest of kisses against the cool stone eye.  You felt Aemond’s breath catch as your palms pressed against his chest.  “You’re the loveliest gem in Westeros.”

His violet eye narrowed at you. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not.”  You gasped in mock outrage. “Lannisters don’t get drunk on so little wine.”

“You’re raving then.”  Aemond turned away from you, back to the fire.  “My disfigured face inspires fear and disgust, nothing more.”

“Aemond…” You reached for him, gently touching his elbow.

“Loveliest gem indeed.”  He made a movement, ducking his head and reaching for his face with both hands.  You couldn’t see what he had done until he turned back to face you.  The sapphire now lay in his upturned palm, the socket of his eye now an empty blackness.  His one eye burned with the intensity of his gaze.  You schooled your expression, reaching up once more with light fingers to caress under the empty eye.  

“You infuriating, hard-headed man.”  You kissed him again, this time just below his gaping eye.  “What will it take for you to understand I am not going anywhere.”  Your kisses trailed down his cheek to the column of his neck where you nuzzled into him.  

You were gratified as you felt his arms wrap around you, drawing you closer as you continued to press your lips against his warm skin.  “I choose you because I want you, Aemond.”  

You reached back, undoing the lacings of your dress, shuffling off the rich fabric so that it pooled around your feet.  Aemond’s eye dilated as he watched you, he caught your hand as it made to unlace the ties of your undergarment. “Y/N…we shouldn’t.”

“We should.”  With little effort, you moved his hand to cup the swell of your breast.

He palmed you beneath the thin fabric of your shift.  You arched into his touch, unbuckling the dark green tunic he wore until it fell to the ground alongside your discarded dress.  Your fingers explored the planes of his defined chest and torso, dipping down to the waistband of his trousers, untying the lacings there as well as you backed him toward the waiting bed.

“Y/N.”  Aemond groaned, ducking to capture your parted lips with his in a searing kiss.

You pushed him back upon the mattress, pulling his remaining clothing off before crawling atop him, your hair falling to frame your faces.  Aemond’s long silken hair was spread atop the mattress, you couldn’t resist running your fingers through it, tugging slightly to elicit a small moan from his lips.

“Is this alright?”  You sat up straight, your thighs gripping Aemond’s trim waist as you looked down at his flushed face. “Me being on top?”

You felt his cock twitch against the inside of your leg as he rose against you, seeking friction.  “Yes.”  Was all he seemed able to say in the moment, his fingers grasping the flesh of your hips with bruising intensity.

In one movement you raised your shift over your head, tossing it aside, baring yourself completely to Aemond’s lustful gaze.  You massaged your own breasts, tweaking your nipples gently as you ground your wet heat along his hard arousal, coating his length with your slick.  

Aemond steadied you with firm hands as you rose up, taking him in hand and aligning him to your ready entrance.  The both of you moaned in unison as you sunk slowly down upon him, his long cock burying itself deep within your quivering walls.  

“Aemond.”  You gasped, the overwhelming feeling of his girth stretching you causing you to lean forward, pressing your hands against his chest for support.  

“Move.”  He pleaded, catching your lower lip with his teeth as you brushed your mouth against his.

You began rocking up and down, back and forth, savoring the feel of being in control, angling yourself so that Aemond’s manhood stroked against your most sensitive spots.  His breath filled your lungs, his tongue sliding along yours to the rhythm of your love making.  

You broke the kiss, straightening once more, fucking him faster, allowing his cock to hit against the deepest part of you.  Aemond reached up, securing your bouncing breasts in his hands, kneading the sensitive flesh as you arched your neck back, a sound of pleasure caught in your throat.  

Your name spilled from his parted lips, you looked back down to his face, reveling in the beauty of it.  “I want you.”  Your words were uttered like a prayer between gasps for breath. “I want to be yours.  I need you to be mine.”  You shuddered, your core clenching tightly around Aemond’s cock.  “Aemond.”

“Lean against me, my love.”  Aemond’s hands gripped your waist as you pressed your chest flush to his, your lips connecting in a sloppy kiss of tongue and teeth.  Aemond rose his hips to meet you, pumping his length into you with wild abandon.  His moans mingling with your own, the lewd slapping of flesh and musky scent of sex permeating the night air.  

“Aemond I-”  You panted, pressing your forehead against his, your eyes closed in rapture. “I’m going to…I want you to come inside me.”

You were still atop him now, letting Aemond take control as he set a punishing pace, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with a jolt of electric pleasure.  He groaned at your words, biting down upon your shoulder as he neared his own climax.  

You felt him begin to twitch inside you, the feeling of his teeth marking your flesh sending you crashing over the edge.  Aemond drove himself deep into you several more times before seating himself to the hilt inside your cunt as it milked the seed from him.  

He rolled you over onto your back, his silver hair tickling your chest as he leaned over you.  “You are a wonder, Y/N.”  Aemond kissed you softly upon your slack lips. “A creature apart from this world.”

Aemond rutted himself into you several more times, loathe to leave your silken heat.  When he did pull out, you felt oddly empty, the evidence of his orgasm leaking from you onto the rumpled sheets.  He kissed you deeper, slanting his mouth over yours, drinking down your weak mewls of lingering pleasure, his hands still groping the ample flesh of your thigh.

You remained locked together like this for many blissful moments, savoring the warm embrace of the other.  The taste of his lush lips moving with your own, the feel of his heartbeat against your chest, his arms cradling you against him as your leg was lifted over his waist.  

“I want to give you something.”  Aemond murmured against your searching lips, brushing his nose against yours.  

“Something else?”  You teased, your eyes opening to take in his adoring expression. “You’re so generous, my prince.”

He rewarded your wit with a dry chuckle, disentangling himself as he moved off the bed, walking over to rummage through the nearby dresser.  You stretched languidly, admiring the view of his bare body before you.

Aemond returned to your side, a small box in his open palm. A small smile traced his curved lips as he watched you undo the small ribbon, pulling off the lid to reveal what lay inside.  A gasp escaped your lips, your eyes flicking from his face to the ring that sparkled in the lowlight.  It was delicately crafted, wrought silver bands entwining to hold an exquisitely cut sapphire gemstone.  

“I know it is not of the traditional make.”  Aemond explained, still watching your expressions. “It was cut from the same stone that made my false eye.”  He hesitated only a moment before continuing. “I would be honored if you would wear this to signify our union.”

“It’s…”  Your voice caught in your constricting throat, unbidden tears welling in your eyes. “Aemond it’s…lovely.  Yes, I will wear it.”  You allowed him to slip the ring onto your finger, admiring the beauty of it as Aemond held your hand in his.  

“Now you will always have a part of me with you.”  Aemond kissed the top of your head as you drew him down into an embrace.  

“Hopefully more than one now.”  You guided your interlocked fingers to rest atop your womb, where you could still feel his release warm inside yourself.

“Hmm.”  Aemond agreed, tucking your head beneath his chin, his legs entwining with your own.  

Your breathing steadied; heavy eyes unable to tear themselves away from the shining gemstone that adorned your finger, signifying your belonging to Aemond Targaryen.  

[watchmegetobsessed]

SNEAKY

A/N: actually surprised this concept made it into a fic, but here we are!

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

SUMMARY: Everyone is into the hot TA that substitutes for your professor. One sneaky picture leads you to what every girl dreamed of in class.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You’ve seen him around. All you knew that he was a graduate student, very good looking, someone freshman girls always stare at and giggle when he looks their way, but your paths never actually crossed.

Right until this casual Tuesday morning when instead of seeing Professor Russell, he strolled into the room and took his spot on the podium. Every girl in your class sighed at the same time as soon as he unbuttoned his suit jacket.

“Good morning, I was asked to substitute Professor Russell, he had some last minute family issues to deal with. I’m Harry, I’m his TA and I will try my best not to make you all fall asleep,” he joked and then started his lesson.

It’s been thirty minutes since then and every female student is eagerly listening to his words, paying more attention to him than they ever did to Professor Russell. And you’re no exception.

He is good-looking if you’re only considering his appearance, handsome face, fit form, a smooth voice and those sparkling green eyes all add up to his charm. Then he tops it all with his insane knowledge, talking about ethnonationalism as if he was born reciting studies about the topic. It’s always insanely attractive when a man has a brain and the looks as well.

The group chat you have with a few other girls in the class is blowing up, messages have been flowing about Harry, some of them are taking sneaky pictures of him, but they are sitting far in the back and for the first time they wish they were in the front row with you.

KACEY: Y/N I’m begging you, take a good pic of him!!!!

WREN: Snap a whole fucking portfolio for me pls!

They’ve been begging you and it’s starting to piss you off so you finally give in.

Unlocking your phone you open the camera and try to angle it from your lap to snap him, but not make it obvious. It’s harder than you thought, because he keeps pacing back and forth, so most of the pictures come out blurry until you finally take one clear one, sending it into the group chat just for them to lose their minds.

QUINN: I’m dead, I’m framing it in my dorm room.

WREN: How is he so fucking handsome???

KACEY: I’m touching myself tonight.

You almost laugh out loud at the last text, but manage to control yourself. When you look up from your phone you catch Harry’s eyes on you as he’s talking and you swear a shiver runs down your spine from the intensity of his gaze before he looks away.

When class is over you’re circled by your friends and you rush out of the room, but glancing back one last time your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before he disappears from your view.

After that, every time you open your camera roll you end up tapping on that one photo of him, musing about how good he looked and you can’t shake off the steamy thoughts that invade your mind when you lie in bed in the evening, imagining having him next to you. You wish you heard some kind of gossip about him, so many guys are talked about around campus, how they perform in bed, but you heard nothing about Harry, the only person you’re curious about.

Friday night your roommate is adamant to get out and have a few drinks, but you’re not in the mood, mostly because she always ends up abandoning you for his ex. Somehow, she bribes you into going to the sports bar for cocktails, swearing tonight will be different.

She pays for the first round and you start to loosen up, you see lots of familiar faces around, it’s a popular place for students. There’s a football game tonight, every TV in the bar is broadcasting the game, though it doesn’t interest you that much. After two more rounds you’re definitely enjoying yourself, mingling with other students around, just having a blast after such a busy week.

You’re at the bar, waiting for your turn to order another round when someone bumps into you from behind.

“Ow, I’m sorry.” Two hands grab onto your hips to steady you and when you turn around you’re surprised to see a familiar handsome face.

“Oh my God, it’s you!” The words roll off your tongue way too easily thanks to your tipsy state, but luckily Harry doesn’t mind your blunt reaction.

“It is me, yeah,” he chuckles. “And you’re… I’m sorry, I remember you from Professor Russell’s class, but I don’t know the names yet.”

“I’m Y/N. I sat in the front row,” you hold your hand out for him that he shakes gently.

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you narrow your eyes at him curiously.

“It means that, erm, I caught you sneakily taking pictures of me.”

Your eyes grow wide and your mouth runs dry, you got caught. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought, apparently.

“I-I’m so sorry, it’s not what you think, I was just—“

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, interrupting your rambling. “I found it funny.”

You’re slightly relieved he is not holding it against you and mostly that he didn’t call you out in front of the whole class.

“God, the girls in the back were bullying me to take a picture, I was pressured into it!” you laugh.

“Oh, poor thing,” he teases you, pretending to be touched, to which you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Wow, getting a little cocky, aren’t we?”

“Only with people who pretend to be paparazzi,” he grins down at you, placing a hand onto the bar next to you, his arm now pressing against yours.

“In that case, you should be just this cocky with everyone else in that class, because I was not the only one snapping pictures.”

“For real?” he laughs nervously and you find it endearing that just a moment ago he was so confident, but now you can see his cheeks turning pink.

“Absolutely.”

“Great. There goes all my professionalism,” he exhales, shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, poor thing,” you pout at him, using his own words, which catches his attention and his eyes cut to yours, an unreadable expression on his face. “Relax, big boy,” you at his arm. “At least you had everyone’s attention the whole time, Professor Russell could never achieve that.”

The bartender finally comes up to you and you place your order along with Harry’s as you carry your conversation on. If you weren’t tipsy you would definitely freak out, ramble and act weird, but the alcohol in your system lets you keep your cool and chat with him easily.

You get so engaged that you forget about going back to your roommate, you get stuck at the bar, talking and laughing with Harry who on top of being handsome and smart is also quite funny. He truly is the whole package.

You even have a shot with him, both of you ditching the people you came with, but when it finally hits you, you realize that your roommate is in the corner with his ex, as usual and Harry’s friends are too focused on the game to notice that he’s missing.

He is definitely your type and from the way he stay close to you all evening you’re guessing he might be interested in you as well, but you wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries, though technically he is not your teacher. He only substituted one time, he holds no power over you in the school system.

When the bartender calls out for the last round you realize how much time has passed.

“Shit, I should get going, I need to study tomorrow,” you roll your eyes.

“Where do you live?”

“Bridgeway, it’s like five minutes away from here.”

“I’ll walk you home, it really is pretty late.”

You don’t protest, just grab your jacket and head out. The cold night air hits you in the head, but you’re definitely still tipsy by the time you reach your dorm.

“Thanks for the drinks and the walk home,” you chuckle, turning to face him in front of the entrance.

You don’t want him to go, the wildest part of you just wants to grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him into your room, but you at least want to kiss those lips you stared at for so long at class and tonight as well.

“Good night, Y/N,” he nods with a polite smile and you know if you don’t say anything, it’s all gonna end here.

“You know, I still have the picture saved on my phone.”

He arches an eyebrow at your confession and he slowly steps closer to you, keeping intense eye-contact.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, it’s really useful on lonely nights when I’m in bed.”

Sober Y/N would have never said that out loud, but drunk Y/N is shooting her shot, big time.

Harry takes his time staring back at you, his eyes lazily dragging down to your lips, your body and then back to your face. He runs his tongue across his pink lips and you’re moments away from just throwing yourself at him. But before you could lose control he speaks up, leaning so close to your ear you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

“Go to sleep, Y/N. And if you feel lonely in the morning when you’ve sobered up, call me.”

With parted lips you just stand there, watch him reach into your back pocket to grab your phone. He types his number in and then hands it back to you. You should get going, but you’re frozen from the offer he just made to you.

“Y/N, be a good girl and go to your room, will you?”

You can only nod and somehow, your legs start moving, taking you into the building. It’s a complete blur how you get to bed, but you do. When you wake up in the morning you feel like a jeep has run you over, memories from last night slowly creeping back to your mind.

Harry.

One memory hits you after the other and then you remember what happened in front of the building. Did that actually happen or did you just dream it?

Reaching for your phone you frantically open up your contacts and there it is, Harry’s number saves, proof that last conversation actually happened. Your thumb hesitantly lingers over the call button until you suddenly tap on it.

It rings a few times and you’re right about to change your mind and end the call when he finally answers, his sultry, morning voice making you throb instantly.

“Hey, still feeling lonely?”

“Very lonely,” you breathe out, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’ll text you my address. I’ll make breakfast while you get here.”

“Are we only gonna eat?”

He chuckles lowly on the other end of the call and you have to bite into your bottom lip not to moan at the sound.

“I’m hungry for more too. What about you?”

“I’m starved.”

“Great. Then better hurry.”

And then the call ends. Suddenly, you’re not even that hangover.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[outrunningthedark]

just that the fandom is proving how they are only in it for Buck and Eddie/Ryan and Oliver when they're complaining about a deleted scene on social media or claiming "queerbait" instead of asking (not demanding, that was poor word choice by me) to hear from someone else a little more often.

I don't think it's a secret that most of the fandom is only in it for Buddie though?

Not that people don't enjoy the show otherwise or wouldn't be watching without the ship, but online fandom specifically? I don't think there'd be a fandom without Buddie. It would be a show like Station 19 or Chicago Fire maybe, good ratings, a couple of people live tweet it, and a gifset would get maybe 100-500 notes on it.

Most of the online fandom is absolutely in it for Buddie, but also Buck and Eddie as individual characters, which is why the reaction to Buck/Tommy from Eddie stans is solely due to the knowledge that Eddie could have had the arc first, and if Eddie actually did come out this season the Buck stans would be letting people know how upset they are - Buddie is preferred because both sides get what they want out of it. The issue is that many in online fandom pretends to care about the other characters to the same degree to appear "better" than the folks only here for Buddie, yet their actions prove time and time again that it's not the case. Take the disrespect towards Hen as a lesbian who's been there from the very beginning. Henren gifs aren't popping up five minutes after a scene airs just so the op can (hopefully) get the most notes. People ask for Ryan to be released from "PR jail", but where are the requests to hear from Aisha? Why don't people get routinely upset when an episode *looks like* it won't focus too heavily on Hen the way they do when they feel like Eddie is being ignored? "There are more Buck/Tommy fics than Henren fics" Okay...and the Buddie tag has always outdone Henren, so....why is a different pairing a problem now? It's their friends writing the fics anyway? And they support them when it's the endgame they like? Similarly, people claimed to care about/look forward to the Madney wedding, and somehow the discussion was never about the actual event until it happened. it was about how karaoke night could lead to a secret hookup or feelings realization or TOMMY helping fandom's faves get their shit together by "noticing" something between them. In an episode about someone else's wedding. They're here for Henren and Madney and Bathena, but what's the thing everyone's blowing up social media pages about? Buddie. Whether it's complaints over being baited with the promo (something being encouraged on this very site) or sending a barrage of Buddie tweets or comments to drown out any Buck/Tommy support...people sure aren't acting like they know how to enjoy anything that isn't Buddie. I have no problem with anybody who is only/mostly in the fandom for Buddie (I myself will always feel the most connected to the Buckley-Diaz dynamic in any form for personal reasons), or anybody who might be new to us because of Bi Buck and Buck/Tommy. Just don't lie about it to make yourself look better when all it does is highlight your hypocrisy. (I mean, unless they want us to see through them that easily. Lol.)

[officialtayley]

So... Plot twist 

Hi everyone, is Emily/em/Sparks9397, make yourselves a snack this one’s long. 

I have a lot I'd like to say, but think a good place to start would be that yes, I’m very sorry for how this played out and for what I did, though, the pics were about as far as the lie went, guess doesn’t matter either way but yes, I am a lawyer, yes I live in Australia, yes that’s my dog, yes I have a boyfriend, etc. 

Honestly, I'm not mad at the anon in fact I was kinda expecting it? (someone was bound to get that’s not my pic), but you did caught me off guard last night and I panicked cause I thought better disappear and leave no trace behind, they all hate you anyways (you guys have been way too nice and fic gate is kinda funny), but I do like to twist the knife and did go back to it in the morning to check how badly i'd fucked up, is why i'm sending this.

if you want me to explain myself, well I was in a bad bad place last year when I started writing, the writing really help me through lots of stuff and for personal reasons i thought it was better not to add my pic, stupid me thought it was a good idea to share another person’s photo, who kinda looks like me if you want to believe that or not, but seems way happier, more stylish, more fun, etc and well you know how that ended... 

Was it necessary to keep posting more pics that weren’t mine, no obv not, yet believe it or not somehow in the past year my life got way better and I made it out of that dark place and was excited to share more of my life, my mistake to not just come clean instead of keep pretending I was someone else. 

Anyways, I could keep going with the apology but I don’t think it matters very much now, does it? 

So I’ll just use this time to say I'm realy really sorry Meike @paramorewillbelegends  and I’m really so so sorry Reese @dnd21, you both were really good friends to me and I'm so grateful to you both for being there for me when I had no one to talk to, sorry I couldn’t reciprocate and be a better friend to you. 

Ps. A03 was more leveled headed than myself during this time and though I deleted everything and didn’t have backup they sent me a copy of everything which I can repost if that’s what you want, but yeahh guess that's it for me, and thanks to Ash if you end up posting this (no pressure). 

i think your apology matters. you've obviously seen what i've said about what you did so i won't say anything more, but if you mean this then it's something people can forgive you for and move past.

i think it's better to do this than to do something drastic. as you can see, no one hates you, even any of us that may have sounded quite harsh, that's not hatred either. anyway, i appreciate that you sent this and i'm sure everyone else will appreciate it, especially your friends, so i'll post it because i think it's important and you didn't have to send it at all but you did, so again, i think it'll be very appreciated.

also you do whatever you feel is right with the fics. a lot of people may still want them but ultimately it's up to you and if you feel comfortable doing so.

[aaakikoo]

I just read your low effort scenarios with Bakugo and I had a silly idea pop in my head. With the Ramen what if reader asked for a taste and Bakugo said sure and was going to give you a bite instead of taking the food reader kissed Bakugo and after said something corny/cute along the lines of tastes even better then I thought. Or the role could be reversed where reader is eating the ramen and Bakugo asked for a taste. It’s just a silly little idea that I wanted to share because you inspired it!

More low effort scenarios with Bakugou bc that’s what I do best

an -> as usual ty for request, I lovr low effort fics bc I don’t need to do sm, if u somehow enjoy this, then cool. 🫶🏼 this is probably isn’t what you asked for but whatever this is the best I could do rn.

another an -> x f!reader.

another another an -> I have written more of these I’ll list em below.

here, here and here.

warnings -> probably just cursing

———

you came home after a long day at work and wanted nothing more but to relax.

your boyfriend had night shift which meant he would be home by time you arrive.

as you headed inside the house, you immediately dropped your bag on the floor and kicked off your shoes. “Welcome back” you heard from the kitchen and you smiled a little to yourself.

“Hey.” You greeted the man as you headed upstairs and changed from your clothes to comfy sweats and T-shirt. You took your makeup off and headed downstairs.

You saw your boyfriend taking a seat on the kitchen island. You walked over to him and gave him a hug.

“Missed you.” You said and he hugged you back, “missed you too, how’s work?” He asked fully taking a seat. “Same old shit.” You said as you noticed what he was eating.

“You made noodles?” You asked and they smelled so good. “Yes.” He said as he began slurping.

“Did you make some for me?”

“I didn’t know you were coming by now.” He said but that was a lie.

“Katsuki you know I finish by 3”

“Sorry guess I forgot.” He said taking another bite.

You grew more annoyed with him at this point. “Fine then I’ll make myself something.” You opened the fridge and you lost your motivation the second you did as you found ingredients instead of frozen food which meant you had fo actually put in the effort.

“Fine I’ll be back I’ll head to the store.” You said putting on sandals and taking your bike. The store was only a couple of blocks away.

You came back with a bag full of good stuff. Chips, dumplings and noodles. When you walked into the kitchen you noticed that Katsuki wasn’t there anymore.

You began making soup to have with the dumplings as well as spicy noodles.

As you finished you poured some soup onto your bowl with a couple of dumplings and noodles on the side.

As You sat the food on the island, you heard footsteps from upstairs. As took a seat and began eating your boyfriend walked over to you.

“Smells so good.” He said and you continued munching. “Are those my favorite spicy noodles?” He asked.

“I think so.”

“Can I have a taste?” He asked and you didn’t even bother looking at him, “no.” You simply said as you took a long slurp.

“Hah? Did you at least get another pack of those noodles?”

“Nope, I only got for myself.”

He took a seat in front of you. “Why? You know I like those noodles.” He said all annoyed.

You twirled your chopsticks around the noodles as you said, “whoops, guess I forgot.” Now he knew that you were teasing him.

“Fuck you. Idiot.” He said starting to get up but before he could you put the chopsticks in front of his lips, offering him a taste.

He opened his lips as you pushed the chopsticks inside his mouth.

“It’s good.”

“I know it is.”

He was about to leave before you said.

“There is more soup and dumplings in the pot.”

[definedbydaylight]

“It’ll Be The Last Time” - Matty Healy x F!Reader

Part 2:

Masterlist: .°˖✧

Word Count: 2132

Warnings: angst-ish, smoking, alcohol, drugs and semi-smutty?, mostly just mentions of it, also i promise this is a Matty fic i just love George so i can’t help but add some love for him in there

Series Summary: “You’ve known Matty since you were 14 and the boy has never failed to get on your last nerve, but over the years you two end up having unexplainable moments where you can’t help but feel you two are connected in a way you’ll never feel with anyone else, until one night he tells you something that may change how you view the boy forever…”

January 13th 2011

Today is finally the day, your debut album is coming out and you should be over the moon, you should be enjoying being out with your friends celebrating, but instead all you can think about is the words Matty spoke to you last summer. You hadn’t really spoken to him since, you’d been out with all the boys since then, you really couldn’t avoid it cause somehow Kelsey and Ross were still going strong all these years later, so you’d seen Matty, you just hadn’t spoken to him past a simple greeting. The club you were at was hosting a release party for you, a small area roped off for just your group, your manager had set everything up as a surprise, you would’ve been fine with a small listening party in your flat, but Kelsey insisted you go along with the idea and enjoy your big day. Honestly she was probably more excited for the release than you were, she’d been planning your outfit for the last week, acting as if it was your wedding day.

The situation at hand felt all too familiar to you, the fact that she’d picked you out a green dress to wear only added onto the nostalgic feeling, but you could never say no to her. You’re currently downing your third dirty shirley of the night, you were over an hour into the party and there was still another 45 minutes before the album dropped and your sad music would be blaring through this club, you almost left bad for the people who came out here who didn’t know what they were about to be subjected to. George and Adam are the first of the boys to arrive besides Ross who’d come early with you and Kels, they walk over to your chosen spot in a booth in the far corner of your section, they both greet you with a hug.

“Don’t look too happy about beating us to an album now y/n!” George jokes to you.

“Oh please we all knew she’d be the first.” Adam nudges your arm. “But for real love what’s with the sulking in the corner? It looks like it’s Kels’s release party!”

All three of you look to Ross and Kelsey dancing together to whatever upbeat club song was playing at the moment, the instrumental far too loud and drowning out any words that would help you identify it, you give a small laugh.

“Just preparing myself for the world to either hate it or love it I guess, I’m ungodly nervous.” You admit to the two.

“Oh please y/n/n! ‘With Your Permission’ is going to smash, every song is a fucking tune and you know it!” George had always been the most encouraging about your music dreams.

“Everyone’s a critic though.” You reply slamming back the rest of your drink, when you look back up you see Matty entering with his girl of the week on his arm. “I need a shot! George care to join me?”

He smiles and follows you back up to the bar, you can’t see but you feel Matty’s eyes following you both as George snakes his arm around your waist guiding you through the crowd.

“4 shots of Tequila please.” You smile kindly at the bartender as he prepares the liquor for you both.

“Any particular reason for the excessive alcohol consumption?” George teases you as the shots are set in front you both.

“Killing the nerves babes.” You smile at him, it’s only a partial lie, you were trying to drown your nerves in alcohol, but it wasn’t about critics or ratings, it was about his best mate who’d drunkenly confessed his love for her just barely 5 months ago now.

“Good enough for me.” He kisses your forehead and you both shoot back two shots in each in quick succession.

Afterwards your eyes find Matty’s and you can’t read his expression like you usually could… it was going to be a long night.

2006:

George and you and had been off and on since the dance, you weren’t really official in the dating sense, but when you both got horny or felt like being romantic you knew exactly who to go to. No one in the group questioned it, you were teenagers and you had sworn to Kelsey about a thousand times that you didn’t want anything serious and she trusted your decisions. The only person who took issue with it was Matty for now obvious reasons, he never really said it but his body language and snide comments told you enough about how he felt. Especially now as you were currently sat on George’s lap at another one of your school mate Josh’s parties, his hands on your waist and one of yours playing with the ends of his hair and the other holding a cider Ross had just brought you on his way back outside from the kitchen. Your whole group was gathered around a makeshift fire pit in the backyard, the heat from the flames keeping you all warm in the crappy early english spring, you were honestly surprised it hadn’t started raining yet as you stared at the dark clouds overhead.

“I’m bored!” Kelsey interrupts the comfortable silence you all’d built up, minus the muffled party music coming from inside the house. “Ooo! Let’s play a game!”

The group groans in unison at the suggestion, but when she breaks out the puppy dog eyes at Ross he’s quick to convince everyone to agree to a drinking game.

“What game do you even have in mind?” You ask your best friend wondering what she might have up her sleeve this time.

“Let’s do never had I ever! You say something you’ve never done, and if someone in the group as done it, they have to take a shot! Adam would you be a dear and go grab us a bottle of something and a few those little plastic shot glasses I saw in kitchen? I’d make Ross do it but he’s just got back from the last trip I sent him on.” And of course no one can say no to Kelsey, so Adam nods and is off to the house.

You all set up in a little circle on the patio beside the fire pit, you’d taken your spot next to George and somehow you’d ended up directly across from Matty on the other side of the circle, his stare held on you and he nursed one of his many smokes of the night. You and Matty hadn’t spoke of what happened at the dance since that night, you’d felt bad in a way about how you’d just left him there, but he knew you liked George, his best mate, and he’d still kissed you. Adam returned with two bottles, one apple sourz and a store brand tequila, a baggie of shot glasses under one arm, behind him trailed the host Josh and you and Kelsey’s school friend Maya.

“Hope you don’t mind but I brought along some randoms to make it more interesting.” Adam says as he hands everyone a shot glass and places the alcohol in the center of the circle.

The game started innocent enough with stupid and playful “Never Have I Ever”s, everyone had taken as least 2 shots at this point, and you were all definitely starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. George had made the mistake of getting on Matty’s nerves by using a very specific embarrassing example to get him to take a shot, and what happened next didn’t help.

“Okay! Ummm.” It was Maya’s turn, and she had no clue what flood gates she was about to open, and neither did you. “Never Have I Ever… had sex…” She admitted quietly.

Ross and Kelsey both took their shot expectantly, as did Matty, you felt your face heat up as your glanced to George at your side, he quirked his eyebrow up at you as you both smiled and threw back your shots together.

“Y/N L/N!” Kelsey shouts from other side the circle. “You dirty dog! Why didn’t you tell me!?” She faked being hurt as she placed a hand over her heart.

You put your face in your hands at the new found attention from the group and leaned over into George, he sweetly rubbed your back and laughed a little at your embarrassment, but you knew it wasn’t in a mean way. The one person you expected to make a comment hadn’t spoken up at all, just sat in silence with a small smirk on his lips, something brewing in his eyes. Josh’s turn was next, then Adam, and finally it was Matty’s turn.

“Hmmm…” He feigned being deep in thought about what he’d say. “Oh! I know! Never Have I Ever kissed my date’s best mate while at a school dance.”

Silence overtook the group after he spoke, your face stilled and your heartbeat quickened as you made eye contact with him.

“That is so weirdly specific.” Maya laughs not knowing the gravity of the situation.

“Well?” Matty speaks up again. “Go ahead and take your shot June Bug.”

Everyone’s eyes were on you again, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment you left it was anger, you held your gaze on him as you took your shot.

“My turn.” You say with heat behind your words that everyone could feel.

“Umm no it’s Kels-” Josh tried to speak up before Adam slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Never Have I Ever tried to throw my best mate under the bus by telling his date all he wants from her is a ‘good shag’ before telling her I’ve always cared about you more then kissed her without thinking about the repercussions of my actions.” It’s your turn smirk at him. “Go ahead Matty…” You say drawing it out. “Take your shot.”

George is quietly fuming beside you and his grin on your waist tightens as Matty grits his teeth and takes his shot, the tension in the air is so think you could cut it with a knife, and your just glad you can tell his anger isn’t directed at you, but at the curly headed brunette.

“Jesus Christ Matty.” George mutters as he rubs his temples with his free hand. “You know if I wasn’t drunk as shit right now I would break your fucking nose.”

“Damn Matty you did not think that through.” Josh laughs trying to lighten the mood and failing.

Kelsey is watching at you as you stand up and turn to George, a worried expression on her face. “Fancy yourself a ‘good shag’ babes?” You smile at him.

He looks up at you, smiling right back. “With you? Always.” You grab his hand as he stands up, you both pass Matty as you walk to the house, but George pauses for a moment and leans down to Matty’s ear. “She’s bloody fantastic in bed by the way.”

You both enter the house taking up residence in the master bath for some privacy, meanwhile outside Ross is handing Matty’s ass to him on platter. Only Adam knew the true nature of Matty’s feelings for you, Matty didn’t open up about how he felt about these kinds of things easily, only telling Adam after he’d gotten wasted at his after the dance. Matty truly did feel bad with how he’d handled telling you about how he felt, but tonight he was drunk and high and couldn’t stop himself from being an ass after learning the George had been the one to deflower you.

“Lay off him man.” Adam tried to to speak up and Ross whips his head towards him.

“Are you kidding me! He acted liked a child and practically decided to try and ruin his relationship with not only y/n but his best mate as well in the process!” He yells, he then redirects his attention back to Matty. “What we’re you thinking Matthew!?”

Matty sat in silence now, just taking everything Ross had to throw at him, at some point before now he’d reached for the apple sourz and began to down as much as he could, feeling every emotion and yet none all at the same time. Kelsey was rubbing Ross’s back trying to get him to calm down but it wasn’t working and she eventually gave up, going to sit between Josh and Maya, trying to process the events of what just happened and why you hadn’t told her.

After several more minutes of verbal abuse from the friendly giant Matty had finally had enough. “FUCK OFF ROSS, I’M BLOODY IN LOVE WITH HER! OKAY!?”

Silence overtook the group once again, everyone finding out the truth 4 years before you did.

Part 3

a/n: okay haha idk i just got into a rhythm while writing this so idk if it’s good cause my brain cannot handle trying to check it over rn cause i have work in like an hour haha, but i’ll revise when i get home! anyway hope you all enjoy! xx

[amethystina]

I just saw this on X (formerly known as twitter) and I immediately thought of you. And I don't know why I had the urge to send it to you, so here it is.

It describes perfectly how I feel about your writing. I usually don't read ongoing fics, but if I find one really intresting I read the first chapter to have a better understanding of it and save it for when it is finished. But with 'Who holds the devil', I felt like I couldn't stop reading. Like I physically couldn't stop reading, and it was all due to your writing. Everything you write about, every detail, every emotion, and every expression is written in the most unique and intresting way I have ever read.

The reason I sometimes prefer reading over watching things is because I have the ability to imagine what I am reading and emmerse myself completly in it when the writing is done well. And you don't just do it well, you do it INCREDIBLE.

In my personal experience, you are the first writer with which I like the long descriptions of things. Because when I read them, nothing feels too long or too much, it just feels perfect for the storytelling. And I only realise that there were a lot of words written after the fact, because everything just sails smoothly.

I don't know why I had the urge to send you this 😅, and I hope I didn't overwhelm you with my unstructured oversharing on here. But I just wanted to say, you are incredible and I hope you stay healthy and happy in the future (even if you suddenly decide to stop writing this fic, there is no pressure as you have already given us a lot).

Take care 💜

I am a little overwhelmed, not going to lie, but in a good way? In that way where I don't really know how to respond because I'm feeling so many things right now, but all of them good.

I've said it before but it will never not blow my mind when I hear just how much my writing seems to affect people. Because it doesn't feel all that glamorous to me, you know? When I'm sitting there, frowning at my document, trying to figure out what word goes where. Or when I'm trying to find the right rhythm and cadence to the sentences, and capture the right emotions and imagery to tell the story I can see playing out inside my head.

But I am, of course, incredibly flattered and also very proud to know that I can have such an impact. I started writing fanfics on a whim — because I wanted to write at least one before I died — and the art of writing (or whatever you want to call it) wasn't even something I reflected on at the time. Well, tbh, I can't say that I do that all that much now, either — I just write what I think sounds nice xD

Point being, even if I've always put a lot of effort into my writing, it never really occurred to me that I might end up being genuinely good at it. That felt like such an unobtainable goal that I never even considered it. And it's been pretty disorienting to be told that I am (but, again, in a good way).

Especially since I go against a lot of the common writing advice that you see floating around. I write a lot of words — some that are definitely not needed. I use adverbs, adjectives, and whatever the heck I want. I often do a lot of telling instead of showing. I repeat things and spell things out for the readers in a way that good writers shouldn't. I do a lot of hand-holding with my readers, taking them through every step of the character's thought process and reactions. I write detailed descriptions of what the characters are feeling instead of only showing it through their actions. The list goes on.

Like, if you look at what the writing advice says, I should be a terrible writer xD

But I'm glad that I'm not. I'm glad that I can write things that move people and that the stories I tell feel that engaging. And I love being able to share them and spread the joy. It's such a wonderful feeling to know that I've made a difference somehow, however small it may be.

So thank you so, so much for your kind words. Which feels wholly inadequate to convey just how grateful I am that you took the time to write and send this, but trust me when I say that it means a lot to me. I never thought I'd reach this point, with people reaching out to me just to tell me how much they love my writing. How wonderful is that? It leaves me utterly speechless sometimes.

How is this my life?

And so far I have no plans to stop writing Who Holds the Devil, don't worry. I can't promise it'll happen quickly what with everything that's going on in my life right now (like being officially diagnosed with burnout due to long Covid — yay me) but I'm way, way too stubborn to give up. And I also love the fic and the characters too much to stop xD I want to see this through to the end just as much as the rest of you.

So yeah. Thank you again for sending this — it made my day. And you take care, too 💜

[deviant-sent-by-cyberlife]

Blooming feelings

AO3 / Commissions / Links /

Summary: Connor starts to question his program and himself, seeing life in a new, different way. Maybe emotions aren’t unnecessary nuances, bothering numbers you need to lock away, but blooming flowers, worth living for.

content: pov Connor, anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort, fear of being replaced/left behind, overthinking

a/n: it was 100% self-indulgent, I’ve had really stressful weeks in the last 3 weeks and other additional dreadful ones will come. In a last attempt to help myself getting thru it all I’ve been bottling and locking up emotions, trying to bury them so I can focus on the task that needs to be done. What a genius move I know

It’s my first fic in this fandom hope you guys will like it ~

You are not supposed to and can’t feel ,

You are a machine Connor,

Not a living thing,

Software instability ^

RK800 heard Amanda’s harsh voice in his head,

A voice calculated, cold and emotionless,

“Connor?

What got to ya?

Told ya not to lick that blood.”

Warm, brown eyes opened to see,

Him and Hank still standing in the lift,

“Did your battery die or what?”

“Sorry Lieutenant, no,

I was sending the report.”

The two of them were leaving a scene,

Where they saw,

The 3rd deviant case in the week.

Connor’s been… experiencing a mild unease,

That he couldn’t place,

Nor he could find,

Any malfunctions in his program.

He ran tests after tests,

But to no avail,

There was no problem in his system anywhere,

Even now,

As he was staring at Hank,

He had the urge to lie to him instead.

I wasn’t sending any report,

Not even writing,

Just heard Her voice and …

Had the impression of concern,

Even something that humans call dread,

But why I had the impulse to hide,

Keep it a secret,

And lock it inside?

But Amanda’s tone rang again,

Voicing his concerns in his head,

But you know that don’t you Connor?

It would mean you are a deviant,

And failed your mission.

Therefore who would need you anyway?

An android,

Which was created to hunt,

Became the hunted rabbit in the dark,

Even Hank,

That drunk police,

Would turn away,

And laugh in your face.

You always accomplish your missions, eh?

Software instability ^

“Jesus Connor stop staring at me!”

The grunt of the grumpy man,

Pulled Connor out of his head,

The door of the lift just opened with a ping,

Letting a little bit of fresh air in,

“Sorry Lieutenant,

I was running some checks in my software—“

“Ugh, forget it.

I need a fucking drink.”

Days went by and that unease didn’t cease,

If anything it increased,

He was waiting in Hank’s car,

While the man stopped at his favourite burger place.

More and more deviant cases happend,

And he was a silent witness to it all,

With every new case,

A new weight appeared in his synthetic cage.

He started to … see these deviants in a new light,

Somehow sympathy crept into his heart,

Sympathy?

But I.. yes,

I’m sure that is the feeling,

What humans call sympathy—

Feeling .

To feel something —

“Alright, now we gotta go back to that shithole.”

He jumped as Hank climbed into the car,

Didn’t realise how long he’s been thinking,

While Hank’s “interesting” music choice screamed inside,

He took an other trip into his mind,

‘ Eyes are the window to the soul’,

He heard once a long time ago,

‘I’m an android. I don’t have soul’,

How easily I answered,

Whiteout a blink and a second thought,

At that time,

That possibility wasn’t unlocked before my eyes,

Feelings,

Amusing little butterflies,

Whose fills up chests,

And helps to bloom,

The pretty flowers of souls.

But now..

“Do I have a soul?”

“What?

What the fuck ya talking about,

Where did that come from? “

Unintentional whisper left the men made lips,

Spreading panic through artificial skin.

He froze,

His system showing error codes,

He just stared ahead,

Onto the dark rode,

Not daring to move.

I.. I failed my mission

Software instability ^

Now Hank knows,

He must realise that I’m …

I’m a deviant now.

He will report,

And sent me back,

Where they destroy and replace Me with Something else.

“.. Fuck knows,

I’ve been seeing all these cases for weeks now,

Seeing at first hand what these deviants do,

Learning their motives and stuffs….

They don’t look that different from me,

Or the other folks I know and see.”

From under a shocked silence,

Connor just stared,

Not registering what Hank just said,

“You know,

At first I saw you as a tin can,

Like an additional machine to a computer,

But then, khm,

All I’m sayin’ is,

That you are more .”

“… you mean, Lieutenant..?”

“Oh Jesus Connor, ughhh.

Maybe you do,

Maybe you don’t,

All I know is that,

We are quite similar at this point.”

“So.. you aren’t replacing me?

“What the fuck would I do that?

We are partners, aren’t we?”

He felt something in the air,

Something inevitable and comfortable.

But with comfort,

Came uncertainty, overstimulation and burden,

However there was something.. freeing there,

The looming weight of being replaced,

Had lifted and gave place,

To a chaos so colourful yet deep,

He felt his fans heating.

It f-feels … scary.

But strangely lifting too.

So this is what ‘waking up’ entail,

Liberating on one side,

And anxiety filled on the other.

They are not the never ending attacks of mosquitoes,

But the kiss of bees,

Worth living for.

Feelings filled his chest,

But for the first time in his life,

He didn’t try,

To shoo them away and stay in the dark.

Software instability ^

B̩͎͍̾ͅr̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕ā̤̓̍͘ḳ̯͍̑ͦ F̘͍͖ͫ͘r̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕ẹ̿͋̒̕

An impenetrable wall broke,

Slowly collapsing,

And leaving painful cuts,

Then,

When the last piece fell,

Darkness befell.

There was no Amanda nor update checks,

Only silence and Himself.

However in the dark,

He saw a blue flower blooming hard,

As he stepped closer and tried to touch,

It omitted pollen,

And embraced him in warmth.

As he looked down,

He realised,

There are many little blossoms under his shoes,

Waiting to bloom.

“Ya comin?”

Hank’s waxy voice slipped through the haze,

Comforting him once again.

We are partners in this case,

And friends in some way,

He really is waiting for me to step forward,

And spend days in union.

“Yes, Lieutenant,

I’m coming.”

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

I’m a sucker for symbolism and metaphors :’D

Ps. English is not my first language, but I tried to somehow get the feeling of Hank’s accent in writing.

My writing requests are open ~

[coralpolyp]

The Complete Works Vol 2: All my Favourite Songs

Cover I did for the fic in Procreate - fully painted by myself this time, instead of rearranging official assets like I had done for Finding the Flow. Again, formatted to be Wattpad-sized, just in case I ever ended up stooping that low.

Welcome back to The Complete Works! This is part two of a two-part archival project I'm doing, where I gather together every piece of unreleased Splatoon writing I've ever done that does not pertain to an ongoing project, and put it all up publicly on AO3, alongside my own personal reflection on it, both over there and over here - what worked, what didn't, why I didn't finish it, and how it influenced what came after it. And I mean everything - full multi-chapter sequences, half-written chapters, plot outlines, one-sentence headcanons, and French revision, it's all here.

All My Favourite Songs

Started: 8th July 2023

Abandoned: 7th December 2023

The fic itself: AO3

Unused content/Complete Works: AO3

At its core, All My Favourite Songs is a very angry story.

It started as a spiritual successor to Finding the Flow - the further my interest in telling Marina's story waned, the more fascinated I grew with this tiny subplot about Harmony being in a constant war with her own neurodivergence rather than working with it, trying to make her way in a field that people of her species are largely unrepresented in, and being in love with her guitarist. What started as "when I'm done with Finding the Flow I'll make a 3 part Harmony story with a similar ethos, and have the two intersect near the end" turned into "I can't be bothered with Finding the Flow lets just get straight into it", with the 3-parts idea being dropped somewhere along the way.

When I was working on this story, I think what excited me was how subtly offensive it all felt, especially with Harmony as a protagonist - the chapters I actually have to show for my time invested in this one present a scrappy, endearing and deeply relatable character, plagued by misfortune beyond her control, and yet later scenes would go on to depict this character that should be "just like you fr" as sad, pathetic, obsessive and a borderline creep - and then somehow go on to bring her back from the brink.

The main thought I had on my mind at the time of brainstorming this one was, in effect, a strange contempt for "losers" - people living under unfortunate circumstances who are ready to just lie down and let it happen to them, letting the god in the machine take every last bit of the blame for who they've become, and inadvertently framing themselves as completely powerless to stop it, seeing as they supposedly did nothing to start it. In its most basic sense, Harmony's character arc is feeling irreparably broken, getting a serious reality check, and then still being irreparably broken but as happy under the circumstances as she possibly can be.

It was an incredibly convoluted serenity prayer, before I even knew what that was. It wasn't a story of "You've been dealt a bad hand, you may as well just give up", nor a story of "You've been dealt a bad hand - here's how to go back in time and get a new one that's way better", it's a story of "You've been dealt a bad hand, now what?"

The key word here, however, is "convoluted" - by the time I felt confident I knew where the story was headed it was just...too much...too much for me to write in my lifetime. Too much for anyone to really follow. It needed serious cuts, and I didn't know where to even begin with making them. In the end I just put it all to bed.

For all it's worth, this story still means a lot to me. It really solidified the ethos I try to carry in all my work of brutal realism and complete and utter greyness - no good guys, no bad guys with ideologies that I disagree with, simply a bunch of deeply flawed people just fighting for what they're pretty sure is right, and all equally capable of hurting other people, whether they realise it or not, or even if they do it in purpose. I don't believe its my job as an author to tell you what's good and what's bad, and make up a scenario to illustrate my point. Its always been my hope that, when I write, I am just showing the reader the world around me verbatim - even, perhaps especially, the bits that aren't pretty. I try to ask questions I genuinely do not know the answer to, because those are conversations I want to have. In some ways I almost feel a little disappointed with myself that I failed to realise this vision, but the simple fact of the matter is that I have a lot more faith in the things I'm working on now than I do the things I was working on then.

Outside of talking about plot, AMFS was, at one point, unique in its use of illustrations, being a picture book of sorts - its an idea that has always interested me, as I never quite understood why visual mediums such as comic books are perfectly capable of being mature, and so are literary mediums such as novels, but the intersection of the two, and having the best of both worlds, is apparently inherently childish. Of course, I would later realise that the "adult picture book" I was envisioning already existed in Japan and its called a light novel, but I still felt quite proud of myself at the time for having a go at it. It didn't quite work out, however - it was too big a time investment, even when I had undeniably slipped into creating rushed, poor-quality illustrations, and I felt that my technical skill with art was not yet up to standard with my prose, and combining them was inclined to make my work seem less serious than I wanted it to. It's an idea I still love, and still want to come back to, however.

This story is also responsible for starting my love of epigraphs and referencing songs in chapter titles. I'm not unique in this at all, if anything I've fallen into an amateurish fanfic-y trap, guilty as charged and completely shameless, but it's still worth noting when trying to evaluate what working on this fic meant for me.

What would have happened:

When writing volume 1, I condensed a 2000 word plot summary into 1000 words. The plot summary for this fic is 7000 words. Like I said, I was insane, its just too much. All I can really do is link the unabridged version here.

For more, read All My Favourite Songs and The Complete Works

The illustrations I did for this fic are in an older post on this Tumblr, linked here.

[nossbean]

endless wips wherein i will restrain myself but a little: god please tell me about 2. LION HUSBAND and 4. TNAU no one asked for hello i'm asking for it 😘

💕💕💕 ! I talked about my dear Lion Husband here so let’s get into TNAU sequel no one asked for <3

TNAU is the acronym for Twelfth Night AU which is Alas, the frailty is to blame wherein Jaime and Cersei swap identities so Cersei can attend Jaime’s mens-only university to study politics and Jaime undertakes finishing Cersei’s degree at a women’s-only college in an otherwise men’s-only uni: this is all set in some quasi 1930/1940 Britain-ish version of Westeros. Ofc while there, it turns out “Cersei’s” roommate is Brienne and initial animosity turns to “oh fuck I think I fancy you but you think I'm my sister” in the vein of Twelfth Night, sorta. There’s a helping hand of the Amanda Bynes classic, She’s The Man, let’s be honest here!

This sequel takes place Later, as in, post the events of Alas, after they’ve sorted everything out. I can’t remember exactly what precipitated this fic — something Wasn't Great, and I wanted to write something unrelentingly kind, and I kept thinking about this bit from Alas:

In any case, the makeup [he’s put on Brienne] doesn’t work. He begrudges that it’s probably his fault, but it somehow looks like a lie on her face, a face made only for honesty. Jaime washes it off for her, he’s careful and gentle about it, and something about this makes Brienne tearful, and it breaks his heart

I’ve known why Brienne gets tearful here since writing it; even if Alas had become much more expansive, I’m not sure Brienne would have revealed what was going on there in any case. But while I was searching for something kind, I kept returning to that bit, to what was happening for Brienne, and what it meant in the context of Brienne-with-Jaime-who-was-then-“Cersei” and what it might mean later. So anyway, here’s the rough incomplete start of a fic that looks at that, set months, maybe as much as a year or more later (cw for recollection of child abuse):

'tis wonder that enwraps me thus

“Have you fallen asleep?”

With her eyes closed, Brienne only guesses where Jaime is by the dance of gentle light pressing on her lids and the mindful shifting of his weight across her hips, but Jaime’s face is near enough hers that his breath dissipates across her upper cheeks when he speaks. Demands, really.

Speaking is always the most awkward part. It oughtn’t be. Even when Jaime had been being Cersei, that first time they did this when Brienne didn’t know anything but that her deeply aggravating, incredibly unpredictable, inexplicably kind (in a sideways sort of a fashion) roommate was perhaps becoming her friend, when Jaime had done this — making himself comfortable, straddling her hips, curling over her with makeup and tools — his weight had been inexplicably soothing, just as it is now, and the various textures of makeup and application so gentle they mesmerised and mesmerise to the point of relaxation. Brienne had settled into it then, and she had been in a comfortable state now before Jaime’s question.

Pursing her lips in case the lippie isn’t set, Brienne murmurs, “No.”

Even to her own ears it lacks a convincing tenor for all that it’s true, and because regardless of how else he is metamorphosed, Jaime remains a pest, he singsongs, “Don’t believe you,” and twirls a makeup brush right under her nostrils.

Brienne doesn’t sneeze — congratulates herself — but she does wriggle and scrunch up her face, pressing back into Jaime’s pillow, and Jaime laughs as is his wont and Brienne fights a smile as is hers.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she says, more earnest and less annoyed than she means. “You’re always so—”

“Charming, clever and rogue-ish?” Jaime intones, and Brienne finally opens her eyes.

Quick to assume, is what she’d intended to say, but Jaime’s diverted her, changed her sentence, and it’s instead become, Stunning, which she manages not to say. By the pleased smirk that spreads his lips, he reads it on her anyway. His hair is shorter now, though curls catch gold from the lamp and tickle along his shoulders. His eyes are thick-lined and mascaraed, and she thinks it’s blusher heightening the colour in his cheeks, making his eyes deeper, highlighting sharp cheekbones, but she’s only still learning all this and it doesn’t readily stick in her head. Mostly though he looks unburdened most days and wears it well. Lively and bright, just as puckish as ever, but free. Despite herself she sighs to look at him and her hand drifts up his thigh. Jaime’s grin turns soft in that way that still makes her stomach flip.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she insists because, though he says it constantly, he’s right: she’s stubborn.

Jaime looks ceiling-ward in a well worn bid for patience she recognizes now as affection before dropping his face and giving a grandiose shrug to this. “If you insist.”

She scowls, he laughs, then ducks down to greet her up-tipped chin with a kiss.

“Hold on,” his fingers are light and careful then on her chin, gently keeping her in place. “Do this,” he says and opens his mouth a little, flattening his lips.

Brienne does as she’s told. Jaime draws his thumb across the skin under her lower lip and Brienne knows this action now: a little lipstick escaped outside bounds. Jaime’s face is so serious as he neatens his work but this, at least, is never as serious as all that. Brienne pokes her tongue out, catches the pad of his thumb just before it slides away. The taste is — mixed. The waxy stick of lippie dominates but she catches some of the tangy sweet of the orange she’d shared with him earlier, lingering or perhaps imagined. Her main prize is on his face anyway: a pleased uptick on the corner of his mouth, his eyes sparkling.

“I’m done anyway, take a look?”

This part mostly passes in a blur. Brienne asks questions, and she listens closely, but she can never quite wrap her mind around everything Jaime explains and describes. Mostly, for her, these moments are for her to watch as Jaime animates. He nearly always wears a smile but now the expression softens: less sharp, more at ease. The muscles around his lips loosen and that relaxation extends up to the corners of his eyes. Their green deepens. His voice goes quieter, a surprise to her, to discover this emotion in him lives close to his emotions around her, revealed in the slight rasp he takes on as he speaks ever more quickly, warming to his topic. It’s a different rasp, but near enough to what she hears in bed, or sotto voce in her ear when they’re in public and Jaime strives to create a beat where they two are alone, or when he greets her upon return to their room, Hello, chit. Jaime is beautiful always, but he opens as a butterfly from a moment of perfect stillness, like shaking off some sort of cold or rust or armour, and she knows it only happens with her, this spread of wings, luxuriant and warm and so vibrant she feels painted by some of his colour.

She feels badly that the details don’t make sense to her, and also sometimes gets the sense that he knows. That mostly he basks in her attention as though she is sunshine bright upon him on some leaf, keeping him warm in the knowledge that someone cares enough to listen and to take an interest.

And if she thinks on that for too long, her eyes will prickle and her throat will form a lump, and now is not the time.

He grins now at her, shining pride with no teeth, and she twists without thinking to tug him down into a kiss. He laughs against her mouth and she cherishes it and him and the way his hand comes under her jaw. It’s still strange kissing with lipstick — she knows and likes kissing him as he wears it but when she is the one who wears it…

A relief, when he murmurs, “Let’s get this off you,” and perhaps the primary reason she agrees in the first place.

She sets out the bits as Jaime fetches warm water. A ritual she yearns for, tries to learn from. She hasn’t told Jaime why, worries it will change his reasons or alter how he does it. And equally she knows that’s silly. If there’s one single thing she knows of Jaime, it’s that he takes things in stride, one more revelation won’t change that.

Brienne isn’t sure she has the words for it.

It had been so unexpected, that first time. He’d put the make up on her, and it had been a disappointment to see: she had thought perhaps it would make her appear more herself. Her face could be so harsh and Brienne never felt harsh. She’d imagined a softening, lushening, of her features. Jaime hadn’t managed that then, far from, and though he had recently, she found she didn’t mind overmuch any longer.

The shock had come when he washed her face.

She hadn’t in her life ever been handled so gently. Perhaps that isn’t fair: she can’t remember her mother but it is possible she had been kind. Her father hadn’t given her more than a supportive hand to her shoulder since she was seven years old, and her nanny… Roelle had not been kind. Roelle had not been gentle. Roelle had seemed only to have rough towels and rough cloths and a mean hold on Brienne’s chin as she scrubbed at her face: tears, snot, sweat. And Brienne, without realising, had learned that, too.

Roelle had not washed Brienne’s face in over a decade — Brienne had made sure of that. And yet until Jaime had held her chin in a light touch, wiped her cheeks slowly with care, Brienne hadn’t recognized that she was as harsh with herself as Roelle had been.

Jaime touches the tips of his fingers to her chin, exerts the barest amount of pressure to tip her chin up and then he smiles down at her. He hums, sometimes, as he does this. Sometimes he chats. Mostly though, he is quiet. He murmurs, “This is all right?” as he passes a soft cloth over her skin with gentle pressure. Tuts when she nods. She might try to answer but her voice deserts her, her heart takes up residence in her throat, and all she can do is sit and be cared for.

Endless WIPs meme