#crab people. taste like crab. look like people

[up-side-in-side-out]

In love with the makeover gag from the “South Park is Gay!” episode

Kyle looks so distraught

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Capital (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You think you married the plainest woman on earth, and you look away for one second and suddenly she is not. Typical. At least, for Daemon.

Warnings: Mature language, sexual thoughts, canon typical violence.

Requested: Yes! But since I am particular about my aesthetic, I didn't answer there. Jealousy + arranged marriage. Brought to you by the seven deadly sins.

Gluttony /ˈɡlʌtəni/

​the habit of eating and drinking too much.

Claw Island is as good as getting vanished from the court. You know it. Your Lord husband knows it. Even the tenants know it. Why else would the King order your marriage to Daemon Targaryen?

It was not as much of a punishment as the King had hoped. The Celtigars are a prestigious family, one of the few left with Valyrian blood. While not ones to flaunt their riches or seek for great power, you led a luxurious lifestyle.

The finest wines. Myrish rugs. The newest books. And of course, the riches from the surrounding sea. Beautiful pearls, a fleet that, while small, sailed with speed. The best foods.

The small island was your perfect little world, sequestered away from the troubles of the mainland. What else could a person long for, when they lived in a paradise? Claw Island had it all. Miles and miles of tempestuous sea, soft sands and gorgeous wildlife not seen anywhere else. Humble, but good people. Natural riches enough to last a lifetime.

But as of late, your breathtaking lands did nothing to bring you peace. Sometimes, in truth, as you walked along the shoreline, you wished for a tremendous sea wave to swallow you whole.

It would be better than this. Among the crabs, the sea life and wreckage of old ships, you would feel at ease. At home, even. And finally, finally untroubled. But things were not as you wanted them to be. With your Lord Father at court, someone had to mind the island. And no one knew the lands as you did.

You shuddered to think of something happening to you. In that case, the island, and its people, would go to your husband. Considering how much he hated it here, Prince Daemon would make a poor ruler.

You glare. He glares right back. Remembering your manners, you serve him a cut of spider crab seared in butter. The meal is rich and decadent, a show of the best Claw Island has to offer.

“Crab, Lady Wife?” Daemon raises both eyebrows. “Again?”

“What else does the Prince wish to eat?” You do your best effort at keeping your tone even. You try hard to not raise your voice at him, remembering the rumors about what happened to his last wife. So far, it seems to be working. Despite being older than you, the man behaves as a child. You have found he benefits from being managed as one, too.

Ever since you got married, he has been desperately trying to rile you up. The Prince always seemed to deflate when you refused to engage. He was clearly itching for a fight, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“You seem too willing to indulge in cannibalism for my tastes.” Daemon, in what he surely believed to be the absolute demonstration of cutting wit, smirks. You smile at him, sedate. You have heard enough remarks about crabs to last a lifetime. “It’s worrying.”

You could answer him. Perhaps make a mockery of his inability to perform in bed and the behavior of the female praying mantis. You do not. Instead, you force yourself to give him a tight smile.

“Don’t worry. I will ask the servants to bring you fish.” You took your napkin out of your lap and placed it on the table. Dutifully, you rang the bell to call for a servant.

“Again?” Daemon complained, sounding much like a petulant child. You smiled and went back to your seat. Your crab was getting cold, and it would most likely be by the time your husband’s fish was served. But good manners dictated you could not start eating without him. You resigned yourself to another night of eating a cold dinner.

“You should write to the King, my Prince. I would serve you venison, were it not for the fact that your dragon has nearly extincted the population here.” While you were by no means poor, feeding a dragon was an expense you didn’t care for, especially one so picky as Daemon’s was showing to be.

While a dragon was a marvelous creature, and having one guarding your lands was a great perk, it was also hard. Caraxes ate the same as five grown men in a day, if not more. He didn’t eat just anything you served him, either. Much like his owner, he was picky. He had come with dragon keepers, and needed to be built a shelter.

You had hoped that his serpentine appearance would mean that he would eat a lot in one sitting, then hibernate, but no such luck. Your island couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard you tried. Animals didn’t reproduce at the pace required.

“Of course, my Lady. Of course.” Daemon says, in a dismissive tone. It’s then, when a servant comes in with his fish.

Your crab is cold. Again. Daemon is not pleased with the fish, but seems wary of extending dinner even more. For once, he doesn’t complain.

Dinner is eaten silently. In your head, you make plans for tomorrow's meals. Perhaps oysters, served cold, will withstand the wait better. You finish dinner and settle down to read some before bed.

When the time comes for it, you close your book. Daemon departs with a cold kiss to your cheek. You go to your bed, just as cold and empty as the kiss was, and fall asleep.

It’s around the witch's hour when he comes back to you, getting into the bed next to you. He stinks of cheap perfumes and oils. As he pulls you closer, to be able to hide his face on your neck, you can feel the smell of sex and alcohol induced sweat. It comes from the clothes Daemon hasn’t even bothered to shed before getting in bed with you.

You don’t like him drunk. He gets sloppy. You do better when he hides his indiscretions, the proofs of your failure as a woman. As a wife. He seeks his pleasure from other bodies, never yours. With you, he is unable to perform to completion.

Perhaps the same happens to him with others, on nights like these. That thought soothes you, and it’s the only reason why you allow Daemon to seek comfort in your arms. Sometimes, he has nightmares. It’s expected then, too, that you are the one to soothe him back to sleep.

Shifting in his grip, you rub his back, gently. You card your other hand through the matted strands of blonde hair, as a mother would do to his child. In many ways, you guess he is one. You pity him, your husband. A man with a void so deep, not even all the vices in the world could fill it.

You are unable to fall back asleep. You lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling. When you hear the rooster’s first crow, you roll out of bed. Sleep is not coming for you. Daemon, unperturbed in his slumber, only sprawls more. You tuck him in.

When you get to your vanity, you catch the servants leaving the correspondence for the day on it. She giggles when you point at the bed and the mess of clothes, gesturing for silence. It makes you feel better, that they think your husband comes from the pleasure houses straight into your arms for more than just cuddles.

One of the letters catches your eye. It’s written in the strange alphabet used for High Valyrian, bearing both the royal seal and the King’s name. You don’t mean to pry. In fact, you open it because you are worried your husband has upset his brother even more.

Marriage is like being tied to a ship. When the tides are good and the ship strong, you soar above the sea. But no one wants to be tied to a sinking ship. It’s that fear what leads you to heating a knife on your candle’s flame and lifting the seal.

You read as you brush your hair, unrushed. You know Daemon won’t be awake for at least six more hours. But the more you advance, skipping polite greeting, the more your stomach sinks, and you jump from sentence to sentence.

“And while I understand your dislike of Claw Island, it is a less harsh punishment than you deserve. Much you complained of wanting a Valyrian bride, and now the opportunity presents itself, ripe for the taking. Yet, you do not seem keen on it. Is it, again, the lack of a throne you find off-putting? Perhaps, the lack of a child bride you can manipulate? Your Lady Wife might not have purple eyes or silver hair, as you mention, but she is a maiden in the bloom of youth. Tales of her beauty have graced the court, shared among the eager mouths of her family and previous suitors. Both Lord Velaryon and Lord Mooton agree that the woman is a delight, well-mannered and easy on the eyes. She has impeccable breeding and education. I will not grant you the annulment. I will not allow you to go back to your whore.”

There is a coppery taste in your mouth. Blood, you realize. From biting your tongue so hard to avoid letting out a scream of rage. It feels like being stabbed, countless times. In your back, and in your heart. Betrayal and deep, hurtful sorrow.

What have you done to deserve this? To be blindsided so? You have stood firm through all the humiliations your husband puts you through. Never once reproaching the way he goes out after dinner and does not come back until sunrise. Never complaining of his audacity to search comfort in your arms when he is drunk and stinking of whores. Never once raising your voice at the insults to your people, your home, your family.

But for Daemon Targaryen, it wasn’t enough. You would never be enough. Childishly, when you had first heard of your betrothal to him, you had hoped for companionship, if not love. At least, you thought, you would have a friend. But you hadn’t been enough of a woman to keep him in your bed, you had not been enough of the blood of Old Valyria for him to give you children, and you had not been enough for him to stay married to you.

He took from you, and took from your island and from your family, and not once was he satisfied. Not once, he was sated. And now, Daemon has done the unspeakable. Not satisfied with making a mockery out of you, with his constant unfaithfulness, he seeks to ruin you further. It’s only King Viserys who protects you and your family from further embarrassment.

You have underestimated him, pitying him while he planned your demise. The ruin of your house. You have been sharing your bed with the enemy. The thought frightens you and fills you with anger at equal parts. What will happen, when the King dies and the awful Princess with whom your husband was so taken ascends? Will you be put to the sword, accused of an imaginary crime to get you out of the way? Treason, perhaps? Hands shaking in anger, you fold the letter and reseal it as carefully as you can.

That is the day you decide you will retreat into your shell, like any good crab. You will close yourself over, put up walls and keep him as far away as you can. And you will wait for the day to stab at his heels until his physique reflects exactly the useless kind of man he is inside.

One day, this man might kill you. You will have to make sure he does not get away with it.

Envy /ˈenvi/

​the feeling of wanting to be in the same situation as somebody else; the feeling of wanting something that somebody else has.

It’s not often you are summoned to the court. But your father is about to be named Keeper of the Keys, a prestigious position often held by members of your house before being promoted to Master of Coin. The implication is clear. Soon, another Celtigar will be handling the finances of the Kingdom. It’s a ploy, to intertwine you further with the Royal Family. As soon as King Viserys dies, it will be your father who serves on Princess Rhaenyra’s council.

Hence, the need for a celebration. Traveling from Claw Island to King’s Landing is exhausting, especially considering that you do the journey by ship while your husband does so in his dragon. He seems overjoyed about it, but you can only think of how much the separate travel is costing your purses.

Daemon arrives early, because of course he does. Meanwhile, you spend your time preparing to put on the play of your life. You must be the most dutiful wife in the Seven Kingdoms, or else he might find a reason to get rid of you. Setting apart your most fashionable dresses, preparing gifts for the King and Queen and otherwise looking radiant.

Knowing Daemon, he is already whispering poison in his brother’s ear. You need to dazzle the King and the whole court, convince them you are not only an adequate wife but a perfect one. No stain must be perceived in your reputation.

You arrive punctually, just in time to prepare for the feast. It’s inside the Hall where you meet Daemon, and greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Chaste, but affectionate, performed under the King’s approving look. You are radiant in your house’s colors, with subtle references to Targaryen’s ones.

The feast is torture. Viserys, Daemon and Rhaenyra are all seated at the same table. They get along wondrously, while you, Queen Alicent and Ser Laenor are ignored despite being next to them.

The only thing that calms your heart is watching your father, sitting at the table of the Master of Coin.

“My Queen.” You say to her, hoping to curry favor. The Gods knew you needed as many allies as you could. “I brought you this.”

You take out a beautifully engraved rendition of the Prayers Book. It’s a gorgeous edition, with a gold finish. You hope that at least, if she doesn’t like it, she would think it is a gift to the babe she carries. It’s a thoughtful gift, the kind of thing you excel at.

“Oh, Lady Targaryen!” The Queen says, and takes it, admiring it in the light. Fortunately, she seems truly charmed by it. “It is the most wonderful thing!”

“I have one myself.” You tell her, as if you had not purchased it for exactly this moment. “When I heard you were from Oldtown, I couldn’t think of a better thing to bring.”

“It’s lovely.” Alicent says, as your husbands ignore both of you. Viserys and Daemon are too busy having their fun to care about what women are doing. “Will you join me in prayer tomorrow?”

“I would be delighted to.” It’s the first genuine smile you wear since your arrival. And it’s the first time that someone from the royal family smiles back.

You do attempts towards Rhaenyra and Laenor. They both ignore you, and so, you decide to keep strictly to conversing with Alicent. You decide to leave Viserys out of it, despite your gratitude to him because you would rather not look like much of a sycophant.

Your happiness at finally making a friend between your in-laws makes you oblivious to Daemon’s silence. During the whole dinner, he barely taunts you. None of the crab-based insults he so favors are present, either. That should have warned you. If you have learned something about your husband is that there is never a time when he is quiet.

He bides his time. The desserts are already served when Daemon delivers his greatest insult up to date. Some couples are even swaying to the rhythm of the music already, no matter if the tables have yet to be cleared.

“I wish to dance, I think.” Daemon says, getting up from his seat. You start to get up too, knowing you cannot refuse him, but he turns towards Rhaenyra. “A dance, niece?”

Rhaenyra preens under the attention and takes his hand. For a second, you stay frozen, hand falling uselessly by your side just when you were about to reach for him. You feel like you are being stabbed. Again.

The humiliation is so great you wish for some great disaster, perhaps one of the couples bumping against a table and overturning it, just to get the attention away from you. Half the hall has now seen you get rejected by your husband. In a celebration meant to honor your father, nonetheless.

You struggle to keep your face emotionless, curved into a polite little smile. You have made a fool of yourself. Hot tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill.

Noticing your despair, Alicent places a hand on your arm, softly.

“Thank you, Lady Targaryen.” She exclaims, loudly. “With the babe getting bigger and bigger every day, I find it harder to stand. You are very thoughtful.”

Her rescue, as she stands and walks down the dais, helps you save face. Your smile turns more genuine.

“It’s but good breeding, my Queen.” You answer, just as loud. “What kind of noble could see a Lady of your station and not aid her?”

Alicent smiles, and she cradles her stomach.

“Indeed. Only a savage, I would think.” Her glance at her own husband is unmistakable. But Viserys is too busy watching Rhaenyra and Daemon dance to help his pregnant wife. His eyes never leave his brother and daughter, his expression twisted into one of annoyance.

Alicent makes her way towards a table where a few knights sit. Most of them are from Oldtown, and you cannot help but smile at her doing the rounds her husband so neglects. But her rescue, and quick exit, leave you in an uncomfortable position. King Viserys and Ser Laenor are engaged in conversation, including you only when they remember your presence, which means once every half an hour.

Without Queen Alicent, you have no conversation partner. The only thing you can do is watch. Daemon twirls around the room as if he were not a married man, taking every eligible bachelorette in the room for at least one dance. He is enchanting, pulling blushes left and right. He dances twice with Rhaenyra and Laena Velaryon.

You play your part to perfection. Each time he glances your way, you give him an indulgent smile or a sweet tilt of your head. Even when he dances again with Rhaenyra, your expressions don't shift. Instead, you lift your cup to them and even find it in yourself to give a small clap.

It’s torture. It’s exhausting, having to play the devoted but never jealous wife, when he is doing his best to embarrass you. Finally, the King retires, but orders that the celebrations do not stop. You consider making your way towards your father, uncaring if leaving Laenor sitting on his own is rude.

Just as you are getting up, a knight, dressed in a fine green gambeson, steps in front of you. You look up at him, wondering what he could possibly want.

His voice is soft and eloquent, with the barest hint of an accent. His voice reminds you of someone, but you cannot quite place who.

“Lady Targaryen. You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.” You answer him, politely. Is he about to ask you for a dance? Is this a ploy for your husband to embarrass you further?

The knight smiles. He is tall and slender, very different from your husband, yet handsome just the same.

“If I had a wife as pretty as you, she wouldn’t be sitting here.” He compliments, and startles a laugh out of you. It has been months since the last time a man complimented you so. Before marrying, you had quite the suitors, but no one dared practice courtly love with the Rogue Prince’s wife. And your husband never once spoke to you kindly.

It’s a thrill, to feel wanted and appreciated again. You love having his eyes on you. It fills you with a forgotten kind of confidence. As the daughter of the man whose star in court is rising, as a beautiful woman and as the wife of a Prince, you deserve to be admired. It’s not your fault your husband can’t see it, you are desirable. People should be currying for your favor. You shouldn’t be begging for the scraps of a man whose only interest is his niece.

“Would she be on the dance floor?” You tease the knight, falling back into the practiced flirtations that had made you so popular before. You feel like you are glowing again.

The knight shakes his head, a hint of mischief appearing in his brown eyes.

“I would forbid her from leaving my chambers.”

At that, you laugh again, blushing. Despite how charming he is, you are still a married woman. You cannot give anyone reason to suspect or judge you, else Daemon might have basis to rid himself of you.

“I am not your wife.” You say, politely. The knight gasps, as if wounded, making you laugh again. You do not realize someone is glaring daggers at you, entranced as you are by him. “But perhaps a dance might suffice?”

The knight gives you a cheeky grin. He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, gently.

As he leads you towards the dance floor, you barely notice Daemon looking disgruntled on the edge of it. You look over and see Rhenyra dancing with some tall and broad knight. He is probably jealous of him.

“You must give me your favor, for tomorrow's tournament. We are, after all, celebrating your family.” The knight says, making you focus back on him. His eyes are brown and kind, so soft. They remind you of someone, but once again, you can’t tell who.

“Ah, I see you are a tough negotiator.” You tease, your tone turning slightly more girlish. This time, it is the knight who laughs.

“What can I say? It’s in my blood.” The man winks, as he starts to twirl you around.

“I think, my lord, you have yourself a deal.” You grin.

It’s only when a Hightower knight approaches the stands the next day and offers you his lanze, you realize the mistake you have made.

Wrath /ræθ/

​extreme anger.

Daemon can’t believe his ears. Out of nowhere, a sweet sound reaches him. It’s the sound of a Lady’s laughter, but something about it makes him turn his head.

Perhaps, the fact that the sound has managed to catch his attention at all, despite the loud music, chatter and other laughs. Perhaps it is that the sound is familiar to him. He doesn’t know what it is, but as the piece finishes, he steps aside and tries searching for the source.

It’s then he sees you. His wife. Glowing and laughing on that Hightower cunt’s arm. And no, it’s not Alicent he is referring to. Otto’s spawn seems to have a proclivity for you because this is the other one. The elder.

Gwayne. His hands all over you, a gentle touch to your lower back to guide you forward. And are your eyes brightening? For him? As you pass by Daemon, you barely spare him a glance. He manages to hear a piece of the conversation.

“Your favor, for tomorrow's tournament…” The man has the gall to ask, as if he could win you the flower crown! The nerve of that Hightower pup, to think himself able to win. It’s clear he doesn’t remember the last time he faced Daemon, and while he was already planning on entering, now he knows with absolute certainty he is competing. Gwayne Hightower seems to have forgotten his lesson. He needs to remember his place.

“… Tough negotiator…” Your cheerful voice answers. Probably telling him he has to win if you do so because you are Valyrian and proud like him. Surely, the idea of getting crowned Queen of Love and Beauty appeals to you. You want a flower crown? Daemon will get you the damn thing.

When he was no more than a boy, his father used to have a particularly overzealous hound. Daemon had taken great delight in setting him free just when ladies were visiting. The dog loved sniffing beneath the ladies' skirts and humping their legs. The whole scene often ended up with Daemon getting yelled at, either by the ladies or their husbands. Now, as he looked at the proverbial dog humping his wife, Daemon understood why the ladies' husbands were so enraged.

He should cut his hands. Hightowers. No sense of shame at all, with their whorish ways. They were all the same. There went Alicent, throwing herself at Viserys when poor Aemma was not even in her pyre. There went Gwayne Hightower, placing his paws all over you and trying to charm you when Daemon was still in the room.

Couldn’t he tell you are his? It’s not that Daemon likes you, but it’s an affront to his honor. You are the wife of a Prince. The mere fact that a measly knight thought he could compare it’s outrageous. And the fact that he dared touch you! The nerve!

It’s Daemon who shares your bed, back in Claw Island. It’s Daemon you hold during the night, who pays for your silly little dresses. It’s for him you have clearly gotten all pretty today. How dare he, that Hightower fool.

He can’t have you. Gwayne Hightower is not allowed to just swoop in and try to steal his woman. You are meant to sleep by his side, be his solace. You are not the kind of woman for whom a simple knight would be enough. Just like him, you love the lush life. Could Gwayne Hightower buy you a dress like that? Could he use a dragon to protect your little island?

Daemon clutches at his cup so hard, he thinks he might bend the metal. You are his bride. He is the only one allowed to have you. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, but it doesn’t mean someone else can.

Rhaenyra approaches him again, no doubt wanting another dance. But not even her allure, which is usually so hypnotizing to him, manages to get him out of his bad mood. He hates when other people touch what is his.

Daemon decides to retire for the night, before she can reach him. He needs to think. How he longs for your shared rooms back at Claw Island. At least that way, he wouldn’t spend the night tossing and turning, wondering if the Hightower cunt escorted you back to your rooms, and if so, at which hour.

Strange, isn’t it? Such a small act can cause such a big shift in perspective. So many months, he had spent thinking of Claw Island a prison, longing to be able to come back to court. Now, he sees it as it was. A shell made to protect the most valuable pearl the sea had produced.

Had Daemon known men at court would try to steal his bride, he would have never authorized this trip. Your father could have been named Hand, but you would have never stepped foot outside your castle if Daemon had known. You would not be taken with Gwayne Hightower if he had a say in it.

He had a plan. The knight would make a fool out of himself. Daemon just had to encourage him in the right direction.

Daemon is up and about as soon as the sun is. He strolls towards the space prepared for the tournament, armor in hand. He changes slowly, giving plenty of time for Gwayne Hightower to arrive.

The foolish knight does. So do you, sitting next to your father in the stands, all pretty and glowy under the sun. You wear a red gown that compliments not only your skin tone, but pays homage to both of your houses. After all, both House Targaryen and Celtigar have red on their coats of arms. A clear show that you were meant to be his, and his alone. What would you even look like, if you were married to a Hightower fool? Red and green would look hideous in a dress.

As the highest-ranking competitor, Daemon gets to make the first challenge. To no one’s surprise, he picks Gwayne Hightower.

Daemon waits with bated breath, already seated on his horse. Does the man dare? Oh, he dares! The Hightower cunt gallops towards the stands. You don’t rise, looking towards the Hightower whore. It’s then he realizes you must be truly innocent. You are either doubting the boldness of the man or are not aware of his house, and do not recognize him under the armor.

But as Gwayne Hightower reaches the stand, Daemon close on his heels, he takes off his helmet. You gasp.

The Hightower whore makes a move as if to get up. Her brother’s voice cuts her off.

“I was hoping to get a sign of your favor, my Lady.” The man says to you, and your eyes widen. You stand, shakily. You look at Daemon, then at the cunt, then at him, then back at the cunt. Daemon arches an eyebrow, visor lifted. “For you have already struck me with your beauty, and the fact that you cannot be mine. Allow me the consolation of placing a crown of flowers upon you, and soothe my wounded heart.”

You gasp at the bold declaration. Daemon has to admit it, the cunt has some nerve. Not only has he praised you in ways that are too bold even for a couple courting, but he has slighted Daemon in front of the whole court. He has made explicit mention of your marriage to him.

Viserys eyes him warily. Daemon scoffs. The distrust is unnecessary. Why would he slaughter the Hightower now, when he has the chance to plummet him into the ground without consequences in just a few minutes? Besides, it would be in bad taste, slaughtering the brother of his sister-in-law.

Your father urges you forward, with a forced laugh. You grasp one of the favors from your box, which has only two, and place it upon the Hightower’s lanze. The pretty ribbons sway in the wind. White and red from House Celtigar proudly displayed.

Daemon clears his throat, and presents his own lanze.

“How touching.”

You ignore him, as Rhaenyra approaches. Surely thinking how he will want to wear her favor, after his rejection of last night. Curse him, Daemon thinks. He should have danced with you. If he had known that up jumped son of a rat was going to try his luck, you would have not left Daemon’s arms the whole night.

“Thank you, niece. But today I fancy wearing my wife’s favor. For it would be a shame for her to be lacking her crown once her champion undoubtedly disappoints.” He loudly declares, uncaring if his niece’s face falls. Rhaenyra will get over it. But this has turned into a manhood competition. He can’t let Gwayne Hightower, of all people, win.

“Can I do that?” Daemon hears you whisper towards Viserys and his whore. “Can I have two champions fighting each other?”

Viserys, as if this is the most fun he has had in a while, answers cheerfully.

“Of course, my dear girl.” It probably is the most fun he has had in a while. Really. It must be very amusing to him, after hearing Daemon complain about you for months. Who would have known he would have to fight some Hightower for your attention? Laughable, really. A Prince groveling. “Double the chances for you to get the flower crown, is it not?”

“Of course.” Your father jumps in, clearly trying to prevent a scandal. “Go on, love. Give the other one to your husband. If more are needed, we will get more ribbons.”

You approach Daemon, pretty little favor on your delicate hands. You smile at him, pleasantly. But this close, he can tell you are shaken by the power play happening right in front of your eyes.

Daemon lowers his lanze as you stretch to place your ribbons. You give him a confused and hurt look. He stretches closer.

“Save that one.” Daemon says, as he places a hand on your hair and pulls out the red ribbon that holds it back. “I’m your husband, I get some privileges.”

His gesture makes you laugh. Daemon feels on top of the world. He gives a superior glance to the Hightower cunt, as if saying: Look at me, I do not need half your effort and get double the results.

Daemon is not so deluded as to think the laugh is more than half nervousness and half playing the part of the dutiful wife you are, but to Daemon is still a win. He can see why the other lords want you. With your hair loose, smiling and with your skin glowing from the sun, you are actually quite pretty.

He ties the ribbon around the pommel of the lanze.

“A kiss, for good luck?” Daemon knows he is pushing, but cannot help but be smug. His pretty wife gave him her hair ribbon to tie around his chosen weapon, for all the court to see. Smugness radiates out of his pores.

Without any expectation, the sweet peck you give him is even more of a delight. Even more sweet is the disgruntled look on Gwayne Hightower's face.

Safe to say, the man gets unseated so fast, it has to be the quickest defeat ever registered. The crunch he makes as he falls from his horse it’s the most satisfying sound Daemon has ever heard. The crowd gasps and cheers. The man does not get up.

That will teach him, he decides. Gwayne Higtwoer will never again even look your way. Daemon turns his horse back around, ready to face his next opponent, but it’s stopped by the pages.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower has requested to continue with the sword.” At that, his blood boils. He nearly jumps off his horse, discarding the lanze and unsheathing Dark Sister.

“What will it be, boy? First blood?” He saunters towards the man, and the sight of him this close only serves to anger him more. He shares Otto’s slender build, tall and slight. In Hightower armor, he even looks like him. Daemon is going to enjoy this.

“Why stop there?” The knight asks, hatefully. “Until one of us yields.”

“As you wish.” Daemon charges, forgoing his shield. He is just too angered for politeness. This is not jousting anymore, it’s his hate for Higtowers, and the fact that this man has tried to take something that’s his. He should have never looked your way. Never. And if it’s up to Daemon, perhaps he will leave the arena without the ability to repeat the feat.

The fight is quick and dirty, but even when he has disarmed and cornered him, Gwayne Higtower refuses to yield.

“What are you..?” Daemon asks, utterly confused because the little savage is grabbing Dark Sister with gauntled hands and pulling.

“Just as marriage is not an excuse for not loving…” He grins, teeth bared in a feral little grin, and Daemon lets go of his sword in surprise at the boldness of the fool. “No weapon is no excuse for yielding.”

He loses it, then. Later, he will only remember red. Daemon throws himself at him and starts punching him, until the asshole goes limp on his arms and has to be pulled away from him.

Only the fact that the Hightower fought back is what allows him to keep participating in the tournament, instead of being exiled again. The split lip and bleeding eyebrow do serve to build a case in his favor.

He wins the tournament without any opposition. With bloody hands, he places the flower crown on your head. Your horrified look is not as satisfactory as he would have thought.

Pride /praɪd/

the feeling that you are better or more important than other people.

Daemon manages to get a hold of you before you vacate the stands. You are trying to avoid the crowds, waiting patiently in your seat. He doesn’t allow it, urging you towards his chambers with a firm grip on your wrist.

Some other ladies titter and giggle, pointing towards the two of you. No doubt, they think he is about to ravish you. They are not wrong.

It’s not often Daemon feels desire for you. In truth, while you have a pretty mouth and a soft body, you do little for him. But today, you are enchanting. The flower crown still sits atop of your windswept hair, making you look like a forest nymph. There are a few red stains along your temple, left there by Daemon’s hands when he placed the crown on top of your hair.

Never has there been a woman more deserving of the title of Queen of Love and Beauty. As you walk with him down the halls, he feels a smug sort of satisfaction. Here is the woman half the court wants, Daemon wants to scream. Here is my wife.

The feeling is not unfamiliar to him, but it is in relation to you. His possessive nature so far has only extended towards members of his house. The lust is new, too. Daemon has experimented it many times, but never towards whom he should.

As soon the door closes after you, he kisses you forcefully, only for you to shove him away.

“What are you doing?” You ask, as you spit out some of his blood. You are remarkably strong, having been able to push him while still in armor. But what shocks him the most is the fact that you did it at all. Months of marriage and you have done nothing but smile, regardless of what Daemon does.

“Shh, Lady Wife. Nothing unusual, I assure you.” He pulls you back in, kissing along your neck. This time, you push him even harder.

Daemon stumbles and blinks, hard. Are you rejecting him? He sits down on the bed and takes off his helmet. He has beaten the Hightower fool half to death and won you the silly flower crown. Why would you reject him?

“You prefer him, don't you?” That has to be the answer, surely. You must be having an affair with the cunt. Why else would you reject him? It’s not allowed. While Daemon is not particularly keen on forcing you, you are his wife. He has a right to your body, and you shouldn’t deny him. You know it. Never before have you refused him, due to the same reason. So this must be something else.

“What nonsense are you on, now?” You barely lift your eyes from your work, busy with pouring some water in a bowl and taking out clean linens. Efficiently, as if a seasoned healer, and not a soft lady from Claw Island, you rip them apart.

“Don’t play daft, wife.” Daemon reproaches, scowling. Your innocent act is starting to tire him. You can’t possibly believe him so dumb. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“If this is about Ser Gwayne…” You start and he feels the urge to scream. He can’t help but cut you off.

“Of course it is! Of course it is about that fucking Hightower.” Daemon’s voice goes high-pitched, imitating yours. “Ser, Ser.” He rolls his eyes. “How easily they hand titles now. Is every scum in this realm a knight?”

Your face doesn’t even twitch. That is one of the things about you that drive him to insanity. No matter what Daemon says, he never seems to get a reaction. It’s infuriating. You are all manners and dimples, even in the face of the most vile insults he throws your way. You either have no honor, letting him stomp all over you, or you think him right. Pathetic. Even the Bronze Bitch bit back.

His nostrils flare. Softly, you step between his parted legs and dab at the cut on his brow with a soaked linen. Ever dutiful.

“You do know adultery is a crime.” Daemon says, in a low, threatening tone. You give him a pleasant smile, squeezing water out of the cloth. It runs red and fast down your wrist.

“So is incest.” Your voice is far too cheerful for someone who just got accused of a crime that’s punishable by death if he so chooses. And not only that, but you have the nerve to threaten him.

“I am a Targaryen.” Daemon practically growls. You glare at him. He should be angry, but instead, his loins seem to heat up. Who can fault him? Any man would feel the urge to take you over and over, when faced with those eyes and those lashes.

Surely, after it, you would understand you were his and not Gwayne Hightower’s. It was not such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a lesser man would have trouble with it, but not Daemon. Give him ten minutes between your legs and you would be singing his praises.

“And I am a Celtigar.” His pause has allowed you enough time to form a retort. You press down on the cut on his brow with a viciousness that startles him. Daemon winces in pain. No getting distracted, he notes. Less you murder him when he is not paying attention. “To stifle the blood flow.” You explain, but Daemon can see the bloodlust in your eyes. You want him to hurt. The past few months have not gone in vain, it appears.

“Mine, you are mine.” He replies, gruffly.

You let go of the cloth, hands on your hips. Your mouth opens and closes, astonished.

“You don’t have any right to speak those words to me.” How he longs to grab you and show you exactly who is in charge. There you are, screaming! You! The woman who Daemon doubted knew how to make sounds louder than polite conversation. “Am I not the bride you never wanted? Your chain? Well then, sail free. Go!” You scream, and Daemon needs to pick his jaw off the floor because never has he seen you this angry.

Are you screaming at him? He feels the urge to pinch himself, to see if he is dreaming. But the way you are pointing your finger towards the door seems very real. Still a bit confused by the sudden personality change, Daemon does not obey.

It feels like a dream. Like stepping into a parallel world. The words that come out of his mouth are spoken by a stranger, and he can only watch as you turn more and more furious.

“No. Come here.” Daemon grabs at your gown, trying to pull you into him. He doesn’t really know what he is going to do if you budge. Place you in his lap and placate you with a kiss? He doesn’t get to find out. Grabbing you has clearly been the wrong move.

You slip out of his grip with a harsh jerk. Daemon is not as young as he used to be, but the sight makes his lust bubble up. You are alluring when angry, all passionate lines, and bloody temples. Valyrian, in a way you had never been before, with your darker coloring and soft manners. Yet, when mad? You are a conqueror goddess made flesh.

“No! I will not. I am not yours. We might be married but I will…” You stomp your foot at him, all angry little crab. For the first time, he sees fire in you.

Such a shame this is the moment you chose to grow a spine. He couldn’t understand where you had been all this time. So many months wasted with the meek little wife, when he could have had you instead.

Why had you decided to show you had a personality now, of all times? It was not fair, if it was for that Hightower cunt.

“Why Gwayne Hightower? Out of all the men on earth?” Daemon mutters, clearly not low enough because you answer him.

“This is not about Gwayne Hightower.” You glare, crown of flowers balancing precariously on top of your head. As you move, a few petals fall down. Angry little dryad that you are, you bat them away.

“If not, what is it about?”

“You!” You scream at him. It’s hateful, it's rage filled, it’s everything you are usually not. A true Valyrian goddess, letting mere mortals feel her might. Daemon would have enjoyed the display more if he wasn’t the mortal in question. “I forgot what it felt like to be wanted. To be looked at as someone who was desirable. Do you know how I have felt? Begging for scraps of attention, trying to make this work?”

“Wife…” He pleads because now there are tears in your eyes, and while Daemon doesn’t do begging, he doesn’t do comforting either.

“Do not call me that! Didn’t you petition for an annulment?” And how had you found out about that? While he had not been exactly secretive with his correspondence, he didn’t believe you to be proficient in High Valyrian. He has no time to ponder on it because you intend to go further. “Well, you are in luck! I will make my own request!”

“Viserys will not allow it.” Even if Daemon has to go beg him on his knees to not grant it, you are not annulling this marriage. Not when he is just starting to see the real you.

“Fine! Then I am going back to Claw Island. Stay here.” You scream, and you look so determined it scares him. For a second, he actually thinks you have the power to ban him from the island and force him to stay, giving you plenty of time to receive visitors. Male visitors, all surrounding you, courting you, as if he were already dead and not just exiled.

“Look. I’m sorry. Can we start over?” Daemon offers, in his most pleading tone. He has not apologized since… Gods. He barely remembers how to do it.

“You made me forget I deserved more than scraps.” You laugh at him, as his first apology to someone in more than ten years is the funniest joke existing. Then, enraged. “It will be a cold day in the Seven Hells, when I give you another chance.”

Hurt. He realizes, as you throw the flower crown at his feet and slam the door. Hurt. You are hurt, not angry. He has done the worst thing a man can do to a woman. Damage her pride.

Lust lʌst/

very strong sexual desire, especially when love is not involved.

Much to your dismay, every time you try to speak alone to the King, you are swiftly intercepted. If it’s not Corlys Velaryon asking you to help him pick a book in the library, it’s your Lord Father summoning you to his chambers. It seems like the whole palace is in it because even Princess Rhaenys asks you to stroll with her through the gardens when you lurk too close to Viserys’s chambers.

Daemon was smarter than you thought. He had taken to using your own weapons against you. The need to be polite kept you from rejecting all these new invitations, and so, you often ended up stuck an entire afternoon with nonsensical plans.

As time passes, your rage starts to subside. Much to your disgust, it morphs into shame. You cannot believe how you lost control in front of Daemon. Everything you have worked so hard on could vanish for a single afternoon pf foolishness.

You would rather not be his enemy. When the time comes for the two of you to go back to Claw Island, Gwayne Hightower is still bedridden, despite it already being days. Daemon is a dangerous man to cross.

Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem angry, or even resentful. In fact, your husband has never been more attentive. With the talent of existing just at the right moment, Daemon appears at your side each time there is a door to be opened or a chair to be pulled.

“No one has ever seen him like this.” Queen Alicent marvels, as he watches him go fetch you a blanket in case the room is too cold for your liking. “Whatever you did to him…”

“Nothing, I assure you.” You answer, sternly. You don’t want her getting funny ideas, like that you are dabbling in witchery or the Seven knows what. It’s not something you can afford. Already balancing on a tightrope after the fight, any accusation could be your ruin. You do not trust Daemon’s change of heart. He is probably just biding his time.

Noticing something is amiss, Daemon comes back with the blanket, wrapping it around you. Alicent falls quiet.

Daemon stares at you, his hands lingering on your back more than necessary. He seems to be taking you in. His eyes fixate on your bosom a tad too long before you realize what he is doing, and you cover yourself more with the blanket.

Your cheeks heat up. You cough. Alicent’s brows raise.

“You are so beautiful, wife.” Daemon says, a bit dumbly.

“And you are a fool.” Your response is heated, and stupid, too. But you feel too embarrassed to care. Alicent is still sitting there, with a scandalized look on her face. Anyone would be ashamed to be the object of such obvious ogling, much less when they have never been exposed to it.

You are unused to this side of your husband. At most, when trying to consummate, Daemon would glance at you with disdain and proclaim it was all your fault. His eyes would never watch the heaving of your chest as you breathed, or the sway of your skirts when you walked. Were you superstitious, you would have thought him a man possessed.

Daemon laughs, either at your comment or your expression. It’s good, you suppose. At least he has not taken offense. You would have thought he would be angered, never one to suffer affronts to his pride without reacting.

“Your fool.” He leans down and places a kiss on your forehead, before walking away.

You stare at him. Alicent stares at you. Neither says anything. You are not sure what to make of it. It’s strange. It’s him now, who serves you dinner. The choicest cuts of meat, the sweetest of wines and meads, never asking for anything in exchange.

He has gotten unusually affectionate. Or possessive. Whatever it’s going through his mind, you don’t know. Daemon has never been open about his thoughts and feelings with you, unless they stem from displeasure.

Perhaps it’s a burst of boastfulness. He flaunts you, a hand on your waist, lower arm, whatever he can get away with. He is suddenly interested in the dresses you wear, commenting on them and gifting you new ones just because he thinks they would suit you. You do not miss the fact that the dresses are always in his house’s colors or styles he personally favors, with intricate needlework and embroidery.

It’s interesting. Once again, his testing of boundaries seems to come back. His hands are always playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, or the folds of your skirt. You have even caught him toying with the buttons of your bodice. It borders on the inappropriate.

“You are pushing it.” You say to him when his hands curls around yours as you dance. He is supposed to keep his hand extended for this step. He doesn’t seem to care. The other guests give him amused looks. No one is about to chide a Prince for his lovesick behavior towards his wife. Especially in a goodbye feast for the couple.

In truth, you are starting to think most of the fathers at court are relieved. If the Rogue Prince is chasing after his wife, then he is not chasing their daughters.

“Holding your hand is pushing it?” Daemon holds your hand more securely, as he makes you spin. This is another new and unexpected development. Now, he only dances with you. No heated looks at Rhaenyra, no longing glances towards Laena. You are not sure how you feel about it.

“It is. You are inconveniencing everyone.” You say, as he spins you again with a flourish. Despite wanting so badly to keep being cross with him, you cannot help but laugh with childish delight. What girl doesn’t want to be twirled around and made to feel special? “You are supposed to exchange partners.”

The balance of the dance has been thrown off by his refusal to let go of you. Any time there needs to be a switch, the couples flounder around the two of you. It’s childish on his part, but he seems unwilling to let you dance with another man.

“Oh, you haven’t seen me pushing it yet.” Daemon laughs, and pulls you in until your body is flush against his. It’s improper and probably not allowed. Scandalous, even. Yet again, no one is about to say anything.

Much less you, suddenly realizing that being pressed so close to Daemon is quite enjoyable. He smells surprisingly clean this evening. No trace of alcohol on his skin, or other women’s perfumes. Instead, he smells of the soap he usually favors and some sort of aromatic oil.

“Will you push further, then?” You raise your brows. It’s sort of amusing that Daemon is trying so hard. You would have not taken him for the seducing type, not when he had been so keen on dissolving your marriage.

“I will.” Daemon leans in, to whisper in your ear. His voice is low, thick with desire. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I want you. I burn for you. I need you in my bed, on top of me, under me, any way you will let me have you.”

You give a scandalized little gasp, softly hitting his shoulder. Daemon grins, pulling you in even more. The two of you are so close, you imagine you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“I’m not done.” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your jaw. Daemon’s lips trail kisses towards your ear, teasingly blowing some air against it. “I want to spend the nights feasting between your thighs, on the valley of your breasts…”

“Stop it! We are in public.” You squeak, yet you look up at him like a flower searching for the sun. The attention he bestows on you is flattering, and you can't help but want to hear more.

“Do you want to hear a secret, wife? Every time you walk, I find myself lost in the sway of your hips. I want to drown on it. Drown on you. Until no trace of another remains, until the taste of your lips is the only thing I know.”

By this point, your skin feels so hot you worry you are about to combust. You gape at him. Not only has he dared to make a bold declaration, but he has done so in a room full of people.

You take a moment to gather yourself. Daemon could be bluffing for all you know, and so, you decide to match him. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone, feather-light.

“Then do it. No one is stopping you. Come to bed. Drown on me. Drink me, take me, ravish me.” You are trembling, and you only realize it when Daemon holds you tighter against him. You feel feverish, voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “Give me Valyrian sons, to hold my island when we are both gone.”

“No. No.” He says, against the curve of your neck, embraced much closer than the dance requires, making a spectacle. “I want them to have your smile and your eyes, and that infuriating curve of your shoulder. Give me daughters with your smart mouth, and your even temper. I want them to be proof of the love I had for you.”

You tremble more. Love. He really said… Oh, by the Seven.

“You are shaking.” Daemon kisses your brow. “Don’t. Unless it is from pleasure.”

Laughter rings in your ears. It's yours, but it feels foreign. You are too stunned to think clearly. Daemon tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you still there, Lady Wife?” He taps at your lower lip with his thumb. There is a teasing tilt to his smile, but his eyes are nervous. Vulnerable. Daemon was clearly not planning on confessing tonight. “Or have I broken you?”

“Prove it.” You say, still caught up on the love part. His declaration has sent your mind reeling, and shown you all of your latest interactions in a new light. You don’t know if Daemon knows what he is doing. He is a deeply passionate creature, much like his house’s sigil. Daemon doesn’t do infatuations, nor does he do dislikes. He loves or hates, and there is no in between.

“I will.” He promises, playing with a stray piece of hair that has fallen out of your up do. “Our whole lives. But perhaps I can start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You frown, puzzled. You even pull back from his embrace to be able to look at his face. What an odd thing to say. Despite it, you admire the utter shamelessness he has about it. Were it you the one accidentally confessing, you would be a bundle of nerves.

Daemon doesn’t even blush. Of course, there is the small fact that he believes himself to be the Seven’s gift to humankind. You suppose if you believed yourself to be irresistible, you wouldn’t be nervous either. Cockiness wasn’t something you thought did it for you, but it seemed like you were learning new things every day.

“You will see.” Daemon smiles. You let him keep his secret, figuring it can’t be anything that bad.

You discover what he means when you arrive at Claw Island. A dragon egg waits for you, the fireplace clearly modified in a hurry, judging by the new stones and bricks that were added to the hearth.

“Even if it never hatches, I want you to have it. For you are as Valyrian as we are, and I was a fool not to see it sooner. You are worthy. It should have been on your cradle as a child.”

Greed /ɡriːd/

​a strong desire for more wealth, possessions, power, etc. than a person needs.

The way his eyes trail after you now, it’s quite unfamiliar. Not lust, nor disdain. Something entirely new. Heavier.

Your afternoons have been filled with new entertainment. You coo at the egg, holding it over the fire. Sometimes, Daemon kneels beside you and helps you hold it, making a game of it. How long before either of you gets burned? How long can you endure, hands so close to the fire, before you are yelping and giving it to him?

When you think he is not looking, you speak to it in High Valyrian, whispering soft promises of how loved him or her will be once it hatches. There is no doubt in your mind it will. Perhaps not in weeks, or even months. Yet, your heart tells you there will be a dragon before your life ends.

Every night, you place the egg in the bed next to you. On your side, you curl around it, trying to share your warmth. Daemon reaches forward, sometimes. When he thinks you are asleep, his hand will curl over your waist and touch the egg, pressing it more against your stomach. You wonder what he means by it.

Does he know what he is doing? The low lullabies he half sings, half mutters under his breath indicate a yes. The way his lips curl into a soft smile against your nape show a longing that’s very much not subconscious.

Just as a pot of boiling water, the egg hatches a night no one it’s looking at it. Both Daemon and you are curled in a love seat, engrossed in a book. He is reading something about the doom of Valyria, your legs over his lap. You are submerged in a text about a man’s travels around the Free Cities.

One of his hands is wrapped around your ankle, in the sweetest of chains. Each time he flips a page, he will brush it with his thumb, softly. While not unwelcome, it’s strange. You are not used to being comforted in the same way you did for him during the first months of marriage. While Daemon doesn’t expect any kind of retribution, you find yourself granting it anyway.

The domesticity is quickly broken, however, when a strange noise fills the halls of your home. At first, you are unable to hear it through the background noise, but if you strain your ears, you can just make it out. It’s a shrill cross between a bird’s chirps and someone crying.

“Daemon?” You close your book and stare at him. Unable to help it, you get a little sidetracked, watching his face. His mouth is pursed in concentration, the candlelight giving his features a golden glow. Despite him being several years older than you, you cannot help but find him terribly handsome. Age has only turned him more distinguished. You betted he was dashing when younger, but unlike his brother, he has aged like a fine wine.

Sensing your eyes on him, he gives you a lazy smile.

“Little wife.” His voice comes out in a pleased rumble at having caught you looking. Your face heats up. Daemon's eyes shift from yours, to your mouth, then back to your eyes. You squirm under his gaze, trying to focus.

“Do you hear that?” You force yourself to utter.

“Hear what?” Daemon leans more towards you, his hand squeezing your knee. You give a small, delighted shiver. Good gods, what is it about him that gets you to turn into a puddle of want with the simplest touch?

“Some sort of animal crying.”

Daemon frowns. He tilts his head to the side, as if to listen better. You keep quiet, hoping to aid him. Then, his face breaks out in the biggest grin.

“It hatched! You amazing, wonderful woman.” He praises, pulling you into him. The hug is awkward, but it doesn’t last because you are too eager to see the baby dragon. Your dragon. You squirm out of his hold and rush out of the room, not even bothering to put on shoes, Daemon hot on your heels.

When you open the door to your chambers, you find the cutest thing ever. A baby dragon, slimy and confused, sits in the middle of his egg in the fireplace. It’s all big, dark eyes and long limbs, much like a baby horse. Unable to resist the temptation, you reach towards them.

“I do not…” Daemon tries to stop you, but the baby dragon climbs right up into your arms, curling close to your chest. Eager to touch it, you let it climb over your shoulder and nuzzle you, even if the sudden weight makes you stagger a little.

“That was really dangerous.” Your husband reprimands, trying to lift it away from you. The baby dragon snorts towards his direction, as if attempting to breathe fire. It only manages to give a cute little sneeze. Daemon glares.

“Aw, you are just like a baby.” You coo at the dragon, petting its head. Daemon looks even more disgruntled.

“Your dragon tried to burn me.” He complains.

“It’s a baby, husband. They don’t know any better.” You rub the scales on its back, soothingly. Unwilling to let go, you find yourself looking around your bedroom. “Let it stay here? Just for tonight.”

Daemon glares. You give him your biggest, most pleading eyes. He relents.

“Fine. But it’s not sleeping on the bed with us. And only for tonight.”

“Only for tonight.”

A month after, and the baby dragon is still sleeping in your bed. He has taken to laying between Daemon and you, leeching off your warmth. Daemon complains of having to sleep on the edge of the bed and his back being sore, but despite it, never once asks you to send the dragon outside with Caraxes.

The trouble starts, how not, with a trip to King’s Landing. This time, you ride with him, as a passenger to Caraxes, while the baby dragon follows. When Daemon lands, the dragon keepers fret around your baby, unsure of what to do with the unexpected visitor.

You command him to stay by your side, despite the protests of the dragon keepers. You are arguing and complaining and shielding your baby while Daemon only watches, amused.

Perhaps the commotion attracts more people, or someone calls for them, but you end up cornered as King Viserys makes his way to the dragon pit.

“What do we have here?” He asks, smiling at you. You give him a nervous look. Your dragon has gotten bigger, and so, you can not pick him up gracefully, but you usher him behind you regardless.

“Nothing, your grace.” You say, lacking your usual charm. You feel nervous about leaving the baby dragon on his own in the dragon pit. What if the other dragons don’t like him? What if he gets lonely?

With one hand, you reach for Daemon. His fingers meet yours halfway, squeezing reassuringly. More often than not, being a woman, your orders were not taken seriously. But if your husband gave an order, people would rush to obey. You hope he intercedes in your favor.

“Daemon, please.” You say, under your breath. “Don’t let them send him away. He will behave.”

“What do I gain, little wife?” He asks, interlocking your fingers together. Daemon gives his most charming grin to his brother, before pulling you into him. You go willingly, body lax and pliant for him. “A kiss, perhaps?”

“Please.” You turn to look at him, hoping to move him. This close, once again, you feel slightly distracted. Your husband smells so nice, and his hands feel so good around your waist, it’s no hardship at all. You press a kiss to his cheek.

“Must you always arrive with such a ruckus?” Viserys frowns. Daemon gives him a small smile.

“You know me.” Slowly, he starts to lead you towards the Red Keep, a hand placed protectively on your lower back. The message is clear. Daemon wants you to make your dragon follow you. You don’t even need to order it because your baby, smart as it is, is already following. The dragon keepers step back, muttering unhappily.

“Is it going inside?” Viserys point at your dragon. Foolishly, you had been hoping he didn’t notice, and so, your stomach drops. But Daemon doesn’t falter, strolling confidently inside as if he owned the place.

“He will behave. As long as no one touches her.” Normally, you despise when people talk about you as if you are not there. Currently, though, you can only feel relief that your dragon is not getting sent to sleep outside in the cold. He is just too little for it.

Viserys walks you towards his private dining room. A blonde child runs around, playing. The Princess and Ser Laenor are already there. And Alicent is even more heavily pregnant than before.

“How have you been?” You ask Alicent, sitting next to her. You half expect to be left out of the conversation as you were a few months before, and so, choose to sit next to someone who has been kind to you. The baby dragon hops on your lap when you take your seat.

Alicent looks absolutely horrified.

“Good enough.” She speaks, blinking slowly. It’s clear she cannot believe her eyes. She stares at the dragon in a mix of awe and fear.

“He is harmless.” You explain, petting it as if it were a small dog and not a baby dragon. “Do you want to pet him?”

Alicent reaches forward with a trembling hand. The dragon sniffs her, and curls to sleep again.

“… And I was thinking of changing the layout of the hall, to make sure he fits…” You hear Daemon complain, and your ears immediately perk up. Is he talking about your baby?

“So you keep it inside?” Viserys asks, sounding disbelieving.

“I have never seen such a close bond.” Daemon boasts. He sounds as if he is proud of you, you realize. It makes something warm flutter in your stomach. No longer are you the wife he never wanted and tried to get rid of. “Damn thing sleeps on the bed with us. It’s better trained than a dog, seriously. We should have given Celtigars dragons a long time away.”

“Why not leave it outside?” From where you are seated, you can’t see his face, but you imagine by his tone, Viserys is smiling.

“She will riot. She loves him as her own son.” Daemon explains. You keep your eyes trained on the nervous Alicent, who has managed to lay her hand on top of your dragon’s head. She looks about to bolt.

“Isn’t he the nicest thing?” You say to Alicent, excited. “He thinks I am his mom, or something. Isn’t it great?”

Alicent does not look as impressed as you hoped for, but she gives you a kind smile. She seems willing to tolerate your eccentricities if for the sake of not having to make conversation with Rhaenyra.

“Very nice.” She compliments. “Pretty colors. Prince Daemon was very kind, giving it to you.”

“He is.” You smile, softly. “Although he complains all the time.”

Alicent shrugs. This time, both of you tune in the conversation between Daemon and Viserys.

“Perhaps, as you build him something outside, you can distract her with an actual baby.” Viserys says. Alicent looks torn at the comment, and you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the topic.

It’s not something you had thought about before. Well, you had. Never with him, though. As a girl, you dreamed of being a mother, and as a woman, Daemon and you had discussed the issue of heirs already. You had spoken about it during your last goodbye feast, in this same castle. But those words had been spoken in the height of passion, and neither of you had done anything about it.

“Trust me. Next time she holds a babe, it will be a proper human one.” Daemon says, and his hand finds yours over the table. You look up at him, meeting his purple eyes. He looks hungry. Starved, even.

You lower your eyes demurely. Viserys laughs. And Daemon, greedy as he is, lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Sloth /sləʊθ/

the bad habit of being lazy and unwilling to work.

The light filters in through the open curtains, giving the room a soft glow. Daemon’s face scrunches up, bothered by the sunlight in his eyes. He has tried to convince you to sleep with them drawn, but you are unwilling. To you, the best way to wake up is slowly, with the sun. Or so you say. He is not very convinced.

Daemon stretches. You reach for him in your sleep. He gives himself a moment to savor it, the fact that he can finally pull you closer. The dragon is finally gone from his bed, although he is no way near distracting you with a babe.

Dragons are not pets. Daemon had been taught that since the cradle, even before he had a dragon of his own. Their control over them was only an illusion, and so, they should be trusted but feared. He had lived by that rule, never once questioning it. Until you.

Watching you raise yours as if it were your own child had proven interesting. You lacked his education about them, but you made up for it by sheer enthusiasm. The fact that your dragon had not bitten your hand off yet or burned you to a crisp could only mean two things: You were some sort of forest nymph, or they were mistaken about their approach to dragons. He knew which one he thought was true.

How much was nature, and how much was nurture in their relationship with dragons? Trying to answer that question would occupy his entire lifetime. Daemon hoped that watching you gave him some insight. Even if he ended up discovering you were a nymph in disguise or some sort of goddess of the hunt. He wouldn’t regret it, fascinating as you were.

No matter how much food for thought you gave him, Daemon had been enjoying the joys of marriage. Perhaps, a little too much. Seeing you with the baby dragon had awoken some unexpected feelings. Targaryens were dragons, after all. When the time came, you would make a good mother. Not only were your instincts well-developed, but you seemed to thrive on having something to nurture.

Ah, the joys of domesticity. Daemon loves that you trust him enough now to allow him to witness you at your most fragile. Asleep and wearing a soft white night shift, you are deliciously innocent. Giving, too. You do not complain when his hands find your hips or when he pulls you flush against him. Nor do you move away when his face hides in your lovely locks, mussed with sleep.

Your expression is open and vulnerable in ways you are never when truly awake. Your eyes open just the tiniest sliver, before you hide your face on your pillow, rubbing against it like the sweetest kitten.

He adores you like this. Worships you, even. Obsessed with the curve of your hip, or the soft flesh above your womb. Daemon can’t help but rub it, hoping to manifest a child into existence without actually fucking you.

If he believed in such a thing, as so many fools in this realm did, Daemon would say this was the Seven Heavens. But he knew the truth. Just like you, who worshiped the Old Gods of Valyria, Daemon did too. How could he not when he had a tiny goddess sharing his bed?

Your nose scrunches up. You twitch. Worshiping a little nymph, now that was hard work. Especially when the nymph in question does her best to escape his personal worshiping time.

If Daemon could spend all day in bed, just like this, he would. He would trace your features with his mouth, peppering your face with soft kisses. He would feast on the soft curve of your neck, drink up all your sweet little noises. Trace a path down your soft limbs, draw nonsensical patterns on your stomach. But you are an energetic little thing, always jumping out of bed, no matter the pleasure he tempts you with.

Convincing you to stay is hard, but Daemon likes to think it’s an art he has perfected. It’s not a ritual, by any means. Each morning goes differently. Sometimes, you need to be kissed silly. Sometimes, you need to be gently worshiped and coaxed back to sleep. But his favorite mornings are the ones that go like this.

“I have to go check on the tenants, down by the shore. The rain season just started.” You complain, as he noses along your hairline. Suddenly, Daemon’s arms are empty. He opens his eyes to find you sitting up and pulling your robe over your night shift.

You look delectable in red. He should buy you more robes like that one. Especially because he is about to ruin it.

“Did you say at what hour you are going?” Daemon sits up as well, toying with the edge of your robe. You bat his hands away, playfully.

“No.” You are hurriedly standing up, perhaps knowing what comes next. Daemon grabs your robe, and pulls you back in, using all his strength.

No matter how much you try to keep your feet planted on the floor, you end up tumbling back into bed. You give a girlish shriek, a smile already forming on your face. You struggle, kicking the blankets off the bed.

“Come back here, you little minx.” He tugs you by the ankle, making you laugh. Your hair is sticking up in all directions and your chest heaves up and down with the exertion of putting up a fight.

Daemon secretly loves it. He would never tell you because you would be outraged, but he enjoys the idea of overpowering you. Perhaps, once you fully trust him, he could ask you to play like that. But for now, he takes what he can get.

“Or else what Lord husband?” You tease, still trying to escape him. More blankets and furs are sent flying off the bed. You give a mean little tug to his hair.

“That was it!” Daemon complains, and starts tickling you. The night shift rides tantalizingly up your hips, giving him an unintentional show. He feels his blood warming, arousal turning into a dull throb in his loins. Your legs kick wildly, you squirm on the bed, and your eyes fill with tears from laughing so much.

It’s only when your poor body can’t take it anymore, and you are crying from laughter that he stops. He thinks of how it would feel, to overwhelm you in a different context, make your body take and take until tears ran freely down your temples. A different sort of crown for his forest nymph, one made from her own silver tears. The visual is too much for him to take without giving himself away.

Daemon lies on top of you, smothering you with his weight. He licks a few stray drops of sweat from your neck, making you flay once again. There will be a day when play wrestling will turn into something much less sweet. That day, though, it’s not today.

“Get off!” You complain. “That’s disgusting.”

“I could eat you up.” He teases, nuzzling into your neck. It's the truth. Daemon loves the taste of your skin and your smell. If he thought he could get away with it, he would crawl between your thighs and feast on you. “You are delicious, wife.”

“Daemon.” You push lightly at him, trying to get up. Again. But your words lack their previous conviction. Daemon can tell he is getting to you. “It’s getting late.”

“The tenants can wait. Let us hide from the world a little longer.” He pleads, clinging to you. Under him, exhausted after the play wrestling, you go limp. He knows he has won then.

You spend the whole day in bed. The tenants end up being visited closer to sundown. Daemon does not regret it one bit.

[cevansbrat0007]

Forgive me Britt, but i cant get this filth thought out of my mind-- Andy fingering a needy Baby Girl at some outdoor dinner. I just need him fingering her someplace risky, under the table

Helping Hands

Summary: Andy helps you relieve some tension while out on date night...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Fingering, Manhandling, Semi-Public Sex, Daddy Kink, Reference to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“What has gotten into you?” Stifling a giggle as you push your boyfriend away when he attempts to whisper more kisses behind your ear. He was definitely in rare form tonight, and he was only on his first glass of bourbon. 

“It’s been three days.” Andy murmurs, toying with one of your curls. “Three whole fucking days since I’ve seen my baby girl.”

“Well, you’re acting like it’s been forever.” You pick up your menu, intending to finally decide on a cocktail only to hit him with it when he starts up again. “Behave.”

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t miss me?” He smooths your curls away from your nape before burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Because I missed you.” While his words come out muffled, you can’t help but shiver at the gentle graze of his teeth along your sensitive flesh. “So much.”

“Omigosh!” You quickly jerk away when you spot your waitress making her way towards you. “Would you – Andrew –  we are in public!” Smiling, you try to right your appearance by smoothing your hands over your skirt.

“Mmhm…” More heated kisses from him elicit more sweet giggles from you. “Why do you think I requested a table in the back?”

Andy’s free hand goes to settle on your waist, effortlessly pulling you closer to him just in time for your server to reach your table. 

“Hey there!” The charismatic brunette chirps, tapping her pen against her notepad. You were pretty certain her name was Paula. “Did you decide on your drink yet? Or can I get you started on some appetizers?” 

“I think I’ll go with the pomegranate martini. As for appetizers…” You cast a sideways glance at your boyfriend who is now making a concerted effort to look innocent while examining his own menu. “I think we’re still deciding. Any recommendations?” 

“Ooh. Good question!” The woman takes a moment to think. “The house-made nachos are always a hit, as are the pan fried oysters, and people love our sweet, gingered chicken wings. But my personal favorite would probably have to be…the herb crusted crab cakes served with our house-made remoulade.”

“Oh yeah? Any of those sound good to you, Big Man?” You rest your chin on his shoulder while you wait for him to make a decision. 

“Eh, I think I’m still gonna need a minute. But I will take another bourbon when you bring out her martini.” 

“You’ve got it! Still sticking with Bulleit?” 

“Yep. Appreciate it.” He winks at your waitress before sending her on her way, which allows him to turn his attention back to you. 

You’re grateful when you receive your drink in what feels like record time. “I did miss you.” You reassure your man after taking your first sip. Cupping his jaw, you lean up to brush your mouth over his own. You moan softly when you feel his lips curve, letting you know just how much he appreciates your show of affection. 

“Fuck, how do you always manage to taste so sweet?” He murmurs, more to himself than to you.  

“It’s the drink, honey.”

“Nah, baby girl. I’m pretty sure it’s all you.” Still grinning, you don’t stop him when he decides to adjust your positions so that you’re now sitting between his thickly muscled thighs as you both rest on the bench. “Tell me about your day. Catch me up.”

“It was pretty boring to be honest.” You offer him a taste of your martini which he declines. “I’m still working on the media plan for that one bakery’s grand opening. It should’ve been done last week, but the owner keeps changing her mind on a few key aspects.”

“Mm.” Andy presses a kiss against your bare shoulder. “You think Sugar & Spice is ever gonna open?”

“Some days I wonder. But that’s really it. Oh, and my boss told me to expect a new account to land on my desk tomorrow. So there’s that too.”

“How many accounts does that make you responsible for now?”

Too many. Although you’re pretty loath to admit it to anyone else but him.

“I can manage it.” You tell him, not missing the way his fingers are skimming along the inside of your thigh, beneath your flimsy little skirt. “You know my boss –”

“Can be an asshole.” Andy finishes for you, just he reaches your clit. He strums his thick fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves, delighting in the tiny whine that gets stuck in your throat. “Have you noticed how tense you seem to get whenever you talk about the prick?”

“Y–yeah.” Instinctively, you try to squirm away, only for you to belatedly realize that you’re pretty much trapped. It’s obvious that your man has you right where he wants you. And he has no intentions of letting you go anytime soon.

After all, wasn’t this why he’d chosen a seat in the back? And between the dim lighting and the setting of the sun, he was probably rather confident that nobody would notice a damn thing. 

“Don’t, baby. Someone’s gonna see us...ooh…” You allow your head to loll back against one of Andy’s broad shoulders as he grows increasingly more bold.

“Now, do you really think I’d let that happen? You really think I’d ever let someone else – a stranger – see you like this?” 

Oh God, his touch feels so good. You’d missed it – missed him – over these last several days. Which let you know that you were becoming equally as codependent as he was. 

“No.” Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as those same wicked fingers dip beneath the fabric of your soaked panties. 

They glide through your wetness, reveling in your slick, tight heat. Andy groans in disapproval when your thighs clench together, making it more difficult for him to have his way with you.   

“C’mon, princess. Be a good girl and let me in.” 

“Andy…” 

Your breathy little moan is like music to this man’s ears. You know it, and so does he.

“I’m just trying to help you relax.” He purrs, nipping at your ear with his sharp teeth. “That’s all. Relieve some of this built up tension.”  

“One of these days, you’re gonna have to learn how to keep your hands to yourself.” You warn, even as a familiar warmth pools in your belly the longer he plays with your traitorous pussy.. 

But Andy doesn’t stop. Instead, you’re treated to the erotic sensation of his palm grinding against your swollen bud while his index and middle fingers continue their intimate exploration. 

“Someone…someone’s gonna see.” 

However, even though you protest, there’s also a small part of you that finds the idea of potentially being watched to be rather…titillating. You gush around him as he grips you tighter, subtly thrusting his impressive erection against the small of your back. 

“Just give me one good one.” Comes Andy’s sensual rumble. “Just one good one for Daddy and I promise we’ll save the rest for tonight when I’ve got you back at my place, in my goddamned bed, where you belong.” 

It was moments like this that had you seriously convinced that you were going to end up moving-in with this man sooner rather than later. A fact that no longer scared you as much as it once did. 

“Please…Andy…” Your thighs begin to shake as you feel that coil tighten in your belly, threatening to snap in favor of pleasure so exquisite you’re all but guaranteed to see stars.

“What’s my name?” He picks up his pace, those dangerous fingers pumping in and out of your silky heat with expert precision. Each turn, each flick of his wrist threatens to be your undoing. 

“My…yes, please!”

“Say it.” Andy’s voice drops an octave as you continue to writhe beneath his careful ministrations.

“Let me – oh shit, Daddy!” The words come on the heels of a breathless sob. “Please lemme cum.”

This proves to be exactly what your boyfriend wants to hear. And you know this because swiftly adjusts his movements so that he can reach that special place inside you, the one that usually has you speaking in tongues when it’s just you and him behind closed doors. 

“Fuckin’ do it, princess.” He snarls, burying his face once more in the crook of your neck. “Soak me. Give me something sweet to get me through the rest of this dinner.” 

“Ooh!Yes!Yes!Yes!”

Unable to help yourself, you finally do as he asks. But thankfully, Andy has enough sense to capture your mouth and swallow the scream that is only mere seconds from escaping your throat. Literal sparks dance behind your eyes as wave after wave of delicious-feeling pleasure crashes over you. 

“Drench me, sweetness. Atta girl.”

The obvious pride in his voice has you clenching your walls around him in silent askance for more. And you can’t help but whimper when he removes his fingers from your heat, leaving you feeling empty. At this point, you would even be willing to get your food to-go if it meant getting another a taste of how good he’d just made you feel on a fucking wooden bench in the back of this gorgeous, but thankfully dimly lit, restaurant. 

Your body gives an involuntary shudder when you watch Andy raise his wet fingers to his full lips before sucking them into his mouth. He moans as your own sweet, earthy flavor comes alive on his tongue.

A promise of what was to come. 

‘That was…wow.” It takes you a second to actually catch your breath, but it does nothing to still the heart that is currently hammering in your chest. “I can’t believe we just…”

“Shh.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss just behind your ear. It was his favorite place to kiss you, other than…well…you know. “Here comes our waitress.”

“Hiya!” Paula chirps before catching sight of your only half drunk drink. “Aww. Not a fan of the pomegranate martini?” 

“It’s delicious.” You rasp, still finding your voice as Andy continues to hold you close. “We’ve just been doing a lot of…”

“Talking.” Your boyfriend chimes helpfully.

“So much talking.” You agree, not the least bit ashamed of the lazy smile that ghosts your lips. “But I will take another. You good with your bourbon, babe?”

“So good.” Your smile only widens when you feel him press a kiss against your damp brow.

“Wonderful.” She jots down a note on her pad of paper. “And did we manage to decide on an appetizer?” 

“Oh yeah.” One of his brawny arms encircles your waist. “We’ll take the crab cakes.”

“Excellent choice.” She beams, again jotting another note. “And for your mains?” 

You and Andy exchange covert glances, neither one of you feeling the least bit ashamed at your supposed indecisiveness. 

“Sorry…but we’re gonna need another minute.”

END

[budbuddnbuddy]

5 weird things that you’ve eaten in the Devildom.

A/n: i thought about what foods MC might’ve eaten in the Devildom since I don’t really see it on here going into depth for any other reason than smut. (no hate to those who do, I enjoy it too)

Warnings this post includes: Freaky demon food, demon body parts , MC pulls a William Buckland ( look up what he did to a king of France), spiders with muscles, just a bunch of dumb weird shit, Mc also wears a suit, in Diavolos section, nothing super romantic happens but you can think of it as both,

5# Devil Spider Crab Sushi Roll

When Leviathan heard that you liked sushi he immediately got all giddy and excited. He was the first one out of all his brothers to try it and the first one to introduce it to the rest of them.

“Really? Leviathan being the one to introduce people to new things?” You smiled as he blushed and looked away from you, the idea of it was so rare that you couldn’t help but be an asshole about it.

“Hey! I’m a shut in not a gatekeeper! Now are you gonna try it or not?!” He practically shoved the wooden chopsticks into your chest and you took a minute to glance down at the odd looking sushi that was still trapped in it’s container.

It was wrapped in the same way regular sushi would be wrapped. Rice,seaweed, more rice. It was just the main ingredient that made you hesitant.

3 gigantic spiders legs poking out through the middle of all 7 pieces of sushi.

If Levi hadn’t told you that those were spider legs you probably would’ve thought they were crab legs that’s how red they were,but that was just the meat of the Devil Spider Crab, the fact that they were big enough to muscle and bone in their legs made you want to almost throw up.

Using your chopsticks you pluck one of the sticky pieces of sushi out of the container and raise it to your face. Sniff sniff. “Doesn’t smell like anything weird…” That’s always a good sign right? You almost place the sushi in your mouth until-

“WAIT!!!”

You tilted your head as Levi set down small bowl of bubbling hot blue sauce. Sniff Sniff. It had a strong sweet smell, but you don’t remember seeing anything similar to this in the store where you guys bought the sushi in…

“uhh….this kind of Sushi can be kinda dry….s-s-so I made some dipping sauce for you!!! I didn’t even have to alter it because all the ingredients are totally human friendly!” You couldn’t help but smile at Leviathan’s thoughtful. He really went out of his way to make sure everything could be enjoyed safely huh?

Taking up your chopsticks with the piece of sushi in its clutches you dunk it in the still bubbling sweet blue sauce, blow on it in an attempt to cool it off, before giving up and just shoving the entire thing in your mouth.

Crunch!

Leviathan watches it all with intensity, watching as you crunch of the legs of the spider, shoving the legs that poke out into your mouth before swallowing it all.

“S-so….what do you think?”

Placing a finger to your chin and staring at the floor with a hardened gaze while attempting to put the flavors together.

“Hmm…..tastes like honey barbecue chicken.”

Not really the reaction he was looking for but hey, at least you liked the sauce!

4# Hellfire Zombie Body Ramen LIMITED EDITION FLAVOR

“Holly shit! MC! Come check this out!” It was about two in the morning. You and Mammon were at a gas station a few blocks down from the HOL. It was an obviously a bad idea to be out so late on a school night but honestly when did you ever go through with your refusals to Mammon anyway?

You shuffle over to where Mammon was excitedly pointing at, a flavor of his favorite brand of ramen came into view, one that you never seen before…

“Is that a new flavor? I’ve never seen that in the grocery store we go to…” You squint your eyes at the green packaging. ‘Hellfire Zombie Body Ramen: LIMITED EDITION!!! SPICE: XXXX’ There was even a picture of a Zombie on the front.

“Thought they stopped sellin’ these but the gas station has been loaded wit em all this time! Ain’t that right Belial?”

The Demon cashier slowly blinked as you glanced down at his name tag, sure enough it said “Belial.”

“…yes.” Man if there was one thing that the Devildom and the human world had in common it would probably be their retail workers hate for their jobs.

After about twenty ish minutes, the two of you snuck your way into the kitchen to prepare for your midnight snack. Once it was finished, you had a styrofoam cup filled with the ramen that you had recently bought.

“Tada! Enjoy!” You take a look at the ramen for the first time. The noodles were a dark bloody red to represent intestines, a few specks of brain and some teeth were scattered around in the broth, finally when you poked the noodles around to inspect some more you saw a big yellow eyeball hidden in the noodles, something that you promptly handed over to Mammon’s cup.

“Hmm…” After some poking prodding, you finally take your fork and twist it around some of the noodles. Raising the steaming red strings of intestines to your nose to give it a sniff. Sniff sniff….ugh gross and smells slightly….burnt?

Whatever, you thought while deciding to just bite the bullet and take a chomp full of the zombie ramen…before spitting it back into the cup again.

COUGH COUGH HACK! “Oi! D-don’t go dying on me!” Mammon practically teleports to your side and rubs your back as you cough up a storm.

Cough! “…It’s-“ hack! cough! “burnt AND sour!” Pushing away the cup, you grab the glass of water Mammon offers to you with a guilty, shameful look in his face.

“…I might’ve been on my phone for a little too long while those were in the microwave….heh” HE PUT THEM BOTH IN AT THE SAME TIME? “a-and it was super rotten flesh flavor! S-so the sour part ain’t my fault!”

Mammon then grabs his cup and takes a fork full before taking a big bite out of his own ramen….before spitting it back into the cup as well…

“Eugh…that DOES taste like ass…”

3# SUPER CUTE KITTY MEW MEW PUDDING

You and Satan stared down in awe at the plate that was set in front of you by your waitress.

“Your ‘Super Cute Kitty Mew Mew Pudding’ with extra ‘Cute Kitty Kitty Mew Mew sugar drizzle’….Lord Satan and….human master.” The waitress then grumbled about putting in her two week notice as more cats started surrounding your table.

“…It’s perfect”

“Marvelous….”

“A grace to this realm…”

“How could something ever be this glorious…?”

The two of you are, of course, talking about the giant massive portion of wiggling cat shaped pudding. It had everything on the head of a cat, two giantic ears, 8 whiskers, a big triangle nose and two adorable big eyes-

“Mew!”

and it was alive.

The two of you spent hours cooing and gushing over the Kitty pudding. Feeding it mapple syrup and sugar packs while one of the chefs goes on a tirade about how he’s ’Sick of his job.’ and ‘refuses to make another damn cat pudding for grown ass people.’ Oh yeah that’s right, about a good 70% of the people surrounding you had their own cute cat pudding and were happily munching away at it.

But not you and Satan no no no.

…Well, at least not yet. You had to get attached first!

So about 30 minutes before closing, you can Satan scooped up a massive ear of the kitty pudding and tap the ends of your spoons together.

Click!

“Cheers to cat cafes?” He smiled as you smiled warmly right back at him, glad that you approved of his new use of human lingo.

“To cat cafes!”

The pudding itself wasnt particularly all that special, but it wasn’t about the taste it was about the effect. Once you chewed the pudding into little bits the kitty just multiplied into even more tiny kitties, now your mouth was filled with meowing tiny kittens!

“This is heaven…”

“Indeed”

2# RAD CAFETERIA FOOD.

Quietly standing on the lunch line you watch as the goblin women in front of you, green skin, red lipstick, with a cigarette in her mouth, scoop up a large amount of dark purple slop and raise it up towards you slightly.

“Move ova ya tray.” She says bluntly in a deep raspy voice probably due to all the smoking she’s done. You do as you are told, shakily holding out your tray as she plopped the mush of dark purple slop right down in the biggest section of your tray.

“T-thank you ma’am…” Her face lights up for a second after you give your gratitude, before she slams down another big portion of purple bullshit on your tray again…mostly likely a reaction from your manners. Seems like the staff here aren’t exactly used to that…

You take a seat next to Beelzebub after paying for your food, by the looks of it he was on his 7th tray, staring intensely at it.

Munch Munch Chew “You gonna-“ gulp “finish that?” Guess the uncertainty on your face was too obvious.

“The lunch lady on line 9 gave me extra…I’m not sure if i should eat it but I don’t wanna be rude…” You continue to stare at your plate while looking back at the goblin lady who was still serving a very long line of hungry RAD students.

“You mean Ms.Pruin?” Beel questions as he slides over his next plate. “She’s the best cook in RAD, her food is really good. You should give it a try.”

You look over at the goblin lady, now Ms.Pruin, once again, still working tirelessly serving hungry students but every now and then glancing over at your direction with a hopeful look in her eye.

Well…if Beel says it’s the best, it’s gotta at least be somewhat okay, right. With that you take your spoon and scoop up a portion of the purple slop and stick it right into your mouth.

Munch munch munch

You brace yourself for a wave of overwhelming foreign flavors, something nasty, something that would numb your tongue right out your mouth, something-

Huh?

“Wait…there’s no flavor!” You stared at your spoon in confusion before taking some more bites out of the slop. Nothing.

“Really? Let me see.” Beel takes your spoon from you and pops a large portion into his mouth, munching on it carefully before swallowing it all down before putting a finger to his chin…then his face lights up.

“The original recipe has an ingredient that’s deadly to humans, angels, and even some demons. She must have taken it out and given you a modified version of the dish.”

You smiled wildly to yourself before gobbling up the rest of your tasteless lunch with glee and from that day, you made sure to always get your lunch from Line 9.

1# Demon Heart.

You sat from across Diavolo at the table outside in the large gazebo in the middle of the pond. Glistening clear water so still surrounds the two of you. Schools of fish circling around you constantly, the trees droop down and sway with the wind, flowers of all different colors are scattered all around the two of you. Just the two of you.

You unconditionally straightened your tie as Diavolo stares at you, elbows set down right on the edge of the edge, resting his chin on the back of his hands, staring. Deeply and lovingly.

“I cannot express enough to you enough how happy I am that you accepted my invitation.” You sigh, glad that he was the one to break the tense silence.

“No problem Lord Diavolo, I mean I don’t think anyone would turn down the opportunity to come to a place like this. It’s gorgeous.” You look around some more, taking in all the details as you were sure that you wouldn’t be coming back here anytime soon.

“I’m sure after that long day at RAD as well as that car ride, that you must be starving yes?” You nodded, Diavolo has asked you not to eat lunch after you agreed to his invite.

“I’m glad. I have a surprise for you.” As soon as he said that, Barbatos as well as some other staff members of the Demon Kings Castle, two hidden dishes are set in front of you both. His is revealed while yours stays in front of you. Some fancy looking meat and strange looking vegetables on the side, drizzled over the meat was bright blue sauce.

“The food looks amazing.” It looked like something you’d see in a five Michelin star restaurant, the fact that he got to eat things like that every single day whenever he wanted was a concept that you were still struggling to comprehend, even after all the time you’ve known him.

“Yours is something much grander. I promise.” With those words, he moves over your plates and take your hands into his own. Looking at you with full sincerity.

“MC…by now you know of my dream for all three realms, peace, equality, and prosperity for all.” You watch as frowns in shame after he spoke.

“However…give our past with eating humans in various ways, myself included,I feel as if that it would be right to set things even. An eye for an eye.”

You squint at him, what was he saying? Did he mean what you really think he means? There’s….there’s no way he actually….

Before you could even form another thought the your dinner plate was revealed, and you could stop your head from looking down.

“…huh?”

A big, brownish, reddish, demon heart laid in the middle of your plate, right in front of you, cleaned and prepared for your consumption.

He was literally letting you eat his heart to atone for his past.

“You don’t have to eat it, I would never force you to do something. However do know that I have more where that came from, I’m sure it’ll grow back eventually.” While you only really heard bits and pieces of that due to the fact that you were still in shock, you got the message.

“….MC?” Finally you relaxed your shoulders and calmed down, before a smile came on your face as you looked at Diavolo.

“I’ve eaten many strange things before in this world. But I’ve never eaten the heart of a future demon king before.”

And before he could get another world in, you sliced up the heart and gobbled it all up, bite by bite by bite. It tasted like human world meat….which kind, you weren’t exactly sure,more like all of them at once but you were sure about one thing.

“How does it taste?”

You grin widely.

“Tastes like home.”

[ohmygraves]

what the 141 guys would eat in an all you can eat buffet

price

price is the one grilling the meat most of the time if they're in like a kbbq where you cook the meat yourself

he tells the boys to grab whatever they want cuz it should be fun rather than trying to get their money's worth

still though he will make sure that everyone finishes their plate bcz no wasting food here people it's an extra 10 pounds for like 100g of food you wasted get your head in the game-

honestly probably wouldn't be that hard, his boys eats a lot in general

keeping it simple with series of meats and booze, though might indulge in some pastries if something catches his fancy

tends to pick something he's familiar with and one that looks good, will be disappointed if the one he picked doesn't taste as good as it looks :(

oh also will definitely go ham at the crabs, kinda shows off how to crack it open and get the most meat from it hehe

i feel like the buffet he feels more comfortable with are the ones that offer him familiar sights and lots of meat. and maybe some veggies too to cut the cholesterol out of his body a little

he might enjoyed k-bbq, cuz they eat lots of veggies while going hard on the meat too

"see you just do this and this and..." *a log of crab leg meat pops out of its shell* "now it's all out"

gaz

oh he gets distracted by the fancy stuff

his plates has a few oysters and somehow lobster tails?? is that a caviar??

his palaté is more adventurous, i think he'd be willing to try out things that he hadn't seen or tried before

still he wants to maximize his stomach space to try out everything that the place has to offer

looks around the selection a few times before grabbing a plate and picking the things he wants (apparently this is the way to go?)

i feel like kyle would be into buffets that offers interesting dishes and unlike the ones that are in common buffets with their ham and mass produced scrambled eggs or something

he has standards

he's a fancy boy, he wants some good drinks while he eats through the entire place

indulges in desserts, but only at the end where he knows that he's had enough of the main dishes (the dessert ruins his appetite so he keeps it towards the end)

soap

picky boy #1 in the squad

cannot handle a single lick of spicy and heat so his options are limited if he goes somewhere "interesting" or wherever kyle takes him

that being said he likes carbs

lots of them

grabs bread and toast and the meats from the meat section and just makes himself some sandwiches

doesn't really take the salads bcz he doesn't like the veggies in it, will end up picking most of the stuff out (he doesn't like raw onions and raw carrots :c)

loves the sweets though

will accidentally eat too much sweets that he couldn't eat anything else because his appetite gets ruined

still though if he goes to a buffet he's gonna make sure he stays until the end, kept going either way until the last seconds.

might end up very sick and in a food comma, someone has to roll him out of the place later

his favorite buffets are those cheap ones where the dishes are something he knows and he just cycles through like five dishes through his one hour time limit

he gets made fun of by ghost because his plate is always full of beige

ghost

i still stand by ghost being a big boy that likes eating

so he lives for these buffets

he doesn't really like the ones where you cook yourself, he feels like its a lot of waiting for the cooking and not enough time eating

also doesn't really go for the soups, cuz he soups take a lot of space in your stomach. will probably indulge in a small bowl or two though just to try.

he likes a lot of things and doesn't really have anything he hates or turn away, keeps going somewhere where he knows where he could eat his fill in the cheap

he might put the place in the red though, he can certainly eat a lot

meat? sure. salad? put it on the plate. toast and eggs? why not. seafood? no need to ask.

his side of the table is always full of dishes and cluttered. you won't even be able to see the table underneath.

also the vacuum cleaner and the savior for price's wallet from paying the fee for leaving uneaten food

kyle always gets him to try interesting food, and ghost just doesn't really comment on it and puts it in his mouth

he likes anywhere where he could eat for the cheap, isn't very picky on the cuisine. as long as he's not the one cooking the food himself he's fine with it lol

[hanniebaeee]

Taste of Love

Lee Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, cravings

Genre: strangers to lovers, soulmates au, fluff

Summary: You have been craving so many random things recently. Your best friend Mila is a believer of the soulmates theory - everyone has their own way of meeting theirs. Mila thinks yours will be through food.

You wake up in the middle of the night, craving an extra cheesy pizza. This has been happening too often lately. Craving very specific things, in the most inappropriate of times.

Your best friend Mila believes in soulmates. A lot of people do. And she keeps saying its because your soulmate must be having some very interesting food out there. Hence the craving. You hardly believed any of it. If this was actually true, why didn't this craving thing happen before? Why now all of a sudden?

Mila had a theory for that too. It's because these things get stronger and stronger and unbearably so, when they're really close and your first glimpse of them is just around the corner.

But, what does it have anything to do with love?!, you thought. Well, here you are, craving hotdogs and crab and rice cakes in class or late at night.

One night, things got so difficult, you were literally in tears.

'But I need to have a wrap right now! Like RIGHT NOW!!' You wail.

'This is fucking insane. If I ever find that guy of yours,  I'm going to fucking murder him!' Mila cried. 'It's fucking 2:30 am, Y/N.'

'Please!' you begged. 'I'll owe you. Please.'

'Fine fine!' Mila sighed, searching what place was open at this ungodly hour.

She found a little shop that was open and quickly grabbed her car keys. Throwing on jackets above your pyjamas, you set off to find this restaurant.

'I never knew of this place before.' Mila said,  pulling in at the parking lot.

You didn't care. You just wanted to eat. You were at the counter and saw the menu held way too many wraps. You hadn't eaten any of them before and you were nervous seeing all the options.

'So?' Mila asked. 'What's it gonna be?'

You bite your lip, feeling totally stupid. You had no idea what you wanted, but it felt like your body would shut down if you didn't eat that fucking wrap.

'I don't know!' You wail, looking around.

'What the hell do you mean, you don't know?!' Mila asked with narrowed eyes, giving you a sharp glare.

Your eyes fell on two men sitting at a table near the window. The third man, with a wrap in hand stood beside them, chewing away. He seemed to be enjoying his meal, his tongue peeping out to pick up the extra sauce from his bottom lip.

'That.' You said looking at him.

'What?' Mila asked, eyeing them. 'Y/N?'

Your feet were already taking you to him, with a helpless Mila in tow.

'Hi.' You said with an embarrassed smile.

The blond haired man looked at you with his mouth full of food. He swallowed quickly and said, 'Sorry, hi?'

'May I ask, what are you eating?' You asked, hoping you didn't look as crazy as you felt.

You felt Mila's right grip on your arm. You were usually a very socially awkward person and would never talk to people unless it was absolutely necessary. And so, you didn't know why this was happening.

The man gave you the name, and you almost dashed to the counter to order your food. Mila (and the guy) watched in amusement as you took a bite and let out the most satisfied moan.

'Wow. That was some craving.' Mila said, sipping her drink. 'I think it's him. Either that or you're magically pregnant and didn't even know.'

'What?' You asked through a mouthful. 'Who?'

'Don't you see? We never knew of this place! Yet we came! And you had to eat what HE was having! It all fits!'

You stared at Mila, dumbfound. You turned to the boys slowly, looking at the particular guy. He was tall and lean, with the most playful smile you've ever seen. His beautiful honey skin was sprinkled with just the right amount of freckles.

As if he sensed your eyes on him, he looked at you and smiled. Shooting him a nervous smile, you turned back, chewing frantically. Mila can't be right!

'You stop it with your soulmate thing, OK? It doesn't exist!' You scold Mila, who just scoffed at you.

'Whatever, Y/N, but I KNOW it's Wrap-Boy.' she said with a giggle.

They left before you did, and the freckled man gave you a quick wink on his way out. You hated to even think Mila's concept was real, but he set your heart racing. You wouldn't mind if he was indeed your soulmate. He was gorgeous. You turned back to your food once they left,  the fact that you may never see him again sinking in.

'How about these ones?' You said, pointing at a tray of pretty powder pink macarons.

'They look so good!' Mila said, asking for two of them to taste. You were in and out of bakeries the whole day, tasting macarons. Mila wanted the perfect ones for her sisters baby shower. You ended up trying so many flavours from so many bakeries, you thought you would throw up with another bite.

You sigh as Mila tested one. Her face went through an array of expressions as she chewed. You glanced around the bakery, taking in all the other yummy treats as the door to the bakery opened making the little bell above the door jingle. Turning around to look casually, you freeze. No way.

The person walking in was wearing a simple light blue shirt and jeans, his long blond hair in a bun. Looking as good as he did that night, only brighter, literally glowing in the daylight. If anything was different, it would be the look of distress on his face.

Mila noticed your sudden change, and followed your line of vision and said, 'Wrap-Boy!'

He went straight to the counter and said, 'I would like some macarons please.'

You stood staring, your body feeling hot and cold all at the same time.

'Macarons!!' Mila squealed in delight. 'I told you!'

You felt your cheeks heat up as the few customers in the shop stared at you and Mila. More than anything,  he was staring at you.

'Why, Mila.' You whispered, wilting with embarrassment. 'Why?'

He made his way towards you, and said, 'You're -'

'Yeah, hi.' That was all you could manage to say. You both look at each other, a blushing stuttering mess.

His eyes bore into yours as he tried to study your face. There was a warm familiarity that you weren't able to ignore.

'What macaron is that?' he asked, eyeing the paper plate in your hand.

'Would you like to try?' You asked, giving him your untouched plate.

Eyes still on yours, he munched on the goodie a smile spreading on his face.

'This is amazing' he said, his deep voice setting your heart on fire.

Mila looked so happy, she could've cried. She placed an order for the exact same macarons and said, 'Can I ask you something. Just for research purposes.'

'Mila.' You said in a warning tone.

'Did you have an unbearable craving for macarons?' Mila asked innocently, ignoring you completely.

'Mila, come on!' You said, shaking your head. She could be weird with you, ok. But not with this achingly handsome stranger!

'I did!' said Wrap-Boy with wide eyes. 'How did you know?!'

'Oh, just a hunch.' Mila said, smugly. Then she passed on a small box of macroons to him.

'Oh no, you don't have to. I'm good, Thanks.' he said, shaking his head, cheeks turning pink.

'Please, you'll need them today.' Mila said and you feel your whole body blaze with heat.

He gave you both a questioning look.

'Will it be really weird if I invite you to my sister's baby shower? Like, it's also her birthday, so technically, it's a birthday party, with a surprise baby shower. Would it be weird? Will you come?' Mila asked, like it's the most normal thing to do.

'Um.' he looked absolutely lost. 'I mean, we don't even know each other. So, won't that be weird?' He asked, eyes moving from you to Mila, back to you.

'Mila, darling, what the hell are you doing?' You ask, giving him an apologetic look. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Oh no, please, there's nothing to be-' Mila cut him off quickly saying, 'We can solve that problem. I'm Mila. This is Y/N. You are?'

'I'm Felix.' He said. 'I'm sorry, is there something going on here? Or do you always invite strangers to your parties?'

'My dear Felix, I'm trying to test a theory, here.' Mila started. 'Gimmie a chance yeah?'

Felix laughed. A beautiful deep laugh you didn't expect. He was an angel with the voice of a demon. Your eyes land on his pretty plump lips, oh, he was so so pretty! You didn't know if you were simply biased at this point.

'And since we are no longer strangers, you will have to come to my party. You can be Y/N's date.'

He looks at you, no longer protesting.

'Is that ok?' He asked.

Every time your eyes meet, you're a little bit more fond of his little freckles and that kind smile.

'Yeah, ok.' You said and Mila is so happy, like as if you said yes to marrying him.

'But for Y/N's sake, I hope you're not a serial killer or a -' Mila gave him a sheepish smile.

'Me? Oh no. No, I'm not.' He laughed.

'So what are you?' Mila asked.

'I'm a musician. I have a little band and things back in Seoul.' He said smiling.

'Oh wow. Really? You're a celebrity?!' Mila squeaked.

He just looked embarrassed now.

'Oh no, nothing like that.' He said, blushing. And the look on Mila's face made him ask, 'You're gonna Google me, aren't you?'

'Am I that obvious?' Mila asked with a laugh.

Felix laughed too, and you were lost in that beautiful sound.

You meet Felix near Mila's sister's house and go in together. Mila's sister was just like Mila, welcoming Felix to the party like she had known for years now. You just smile, knowing that Felix just made two best friends for life.

You were on the quieter side, hanging back, watching everyone and mostly being part of a conversation only when you didn't have to initiate it. Felix caught on immediately and then, he didn't leave your side at all. You were embarassed and you tried to tell him that it was alright, but he wouldn't have it.

'I'm your date. Can't leave you. You know?' He said with a shrug.

You had a permanent blush on your face, trying not to show how much his presence had you worked up. After a while, he asked, 'So, are you gonna tell me what I'm doing here?'

'What?' You asked, you heart thumping away.

'Darling, I know something is going on. That day at the restaurant? Then the bakery? There is something. Isn't there?'

'Felix, Mila can be silly sometimes-' You try to dismiss it, but Felix just raised an eyebrow, giving you a look. 'I'm sorry you had to come. And I'm sorry if you're bored. You can leave whenever you want.'

'Y/N, I'm not bored. At all. I like talking to you. Besides, I wouldn't have come if I really didn't want to. I just know that you two are up to something. And it has something to do with me.' Felix said and you felt guilty.

Mila came by to your rescue just then, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

'Come on, we're gonna cut the cake now.' Mila said, taking your hand and Felix's, and leading you into the crowd. You did your best to not be left alone with Felix again. By the end of the day, when Felix was ready to leave, you were sad again. What if this was really the last time you saw him?

Felix found himself unable to look away from you. He thought you were so pretty, and he loved how shy you were. And he didn't want to leave you. He would have to go back to Seoul in a couple of weeks and he didn't know when he could come back next. So he mustered all his courage and asked you for your number.

You froze for a moment before nodding yes and holding out your hand. He placed his phone in your hand with a grin and watched as you save your number in his phone. He gave you a ring so you could save his number as well and then you went your separate ways.

'Heyy, I got the pictures from the party!' Mila announced, walking into your room. 'I'll send them to you. Please share them with Felix yeah? He said he wanted them.'

You look through the pictures and smile as you come across a few of you and Felix. He looked so cute in pink. And your pictures together looked so good. You sent him some and he texted back almost immediately.

Felix: These are great!

Felix: Thanks for sending them, Y/N

Y/N: No problem😊

Y/N: How are you, Felix?

Felix: I'm good, thanks. You?

Y/N: I'm good too

Y/N: Are you still here? Or back home?

Felix: I have a week left before I leave

You really wished that you had the courage to tell him how much you liked him. True that you didn't know him at all, but isn't love strange?

Felix: Y/N?

You look down at your phone, realizing that you had left him on read.

Y/N: Sorry, something came up

Felix: Busy I see

Y/N: Not really

Y/N: Just hungry I guess

Felix: You know what, I'm hungry too

Felix: Let's go get some dinner. If that's ok?

You stare at your phone before screaming. Mila had the fright of her life, and came running into your room. You push your phone to her and she screams in excitement.

'Say yes. SAY YES!' She said, eyes glowing.

Y/N: Sure. Let's do it.

Felix: Great! I'll come pick you up. We'll decide something on the way.

Y/N: Ok

Felix: See you in an hour?

Y/N: Sounds good👍

You were way too nervous. Mila helped you get ready and Felix was at your doorstep with a bouquet of pink tulips.

'Hello beautiful.' He said sweetly, making you combust on the spot.

'Hello Felix.' You said with a smile, accepting the flowers and inviting him in. You walk into the kitchen to find a vase to place the flowers in. When you come out, you find Mila and Felix in a conversation. Felix was frowning a bit, but seeing you, he smiled again.

'Take care of my Y/N, got it? I'm just lending her to you for a few hours.' Mila said, squeezing you in a hug. 'You have a good time, ok?'

'Yes, ma'am.' Felix said with a grin and you both leave.

'So, what are we having?' Felix asked. 'Any favorites?'

You weren't in the mood for anything fancy so you decide on a pasta place that you have been wanting to try for a while. You both order a few different things and share. Felix was so sweet and caring, it didn't feel like you had just met.

He had even called his bandmates and introduced you to them all, and they were so excited to talk to you. It warmed your heart so much that thinking about him leaving in just another week made your heart sink.

'So, if you leave, when do you get to visit again?' You asked, trying not to sound too heartbroken.

'I try to come whenever I get the time. We usually don't get long vacations. Just a week or two every now and then.' Felix said.

Your heart breaks when he drops you home, tells you how much fun he had and he will miss you when he has to go back. Your voice shakes when you tell him that you'll miss him too. He lingers for a moment,then places a quick peck on your cheek before walking away.

You are sad and frustrated and everything else in between for the next two days. And then you are craving again. Such intense cravings at that. This made you angry. You are sobbing in your room when Mila finds you. Wiping your tears with the sleeve of your top, you look at her.

'I'm fine. Ok? Just fine.' You said, standing up. Quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a jacket, you decide to go out.

'Where are you going Y/N?' Mila asked.

'Out.' You said. 'I think I'll fall dead if I don't eat some brownies right fucking now.'

'Brownies?' Mila asked.

You just hum in response and grab your purse to head out. You were pulling on your shoes when you heard the doorbell. You open the door and see Felix smiling at you. This would probably be the most pleasant sight you've ever laid your eyes upon.

'Felix, hi.' You said, stepping aside to let him in. His smile falters when he sees your teary eyes.

'Y/N, we're you crying? Are you ok?' He asked, stepping closer to you, his worry evident on his face.

'I'm ok, I'm sorry. I am not -' you stuttered, eyes filling up again. 'Why don't you sit and talk to Mila. I will be back in a minute, ok?'

'Where are you going?' He asked, looking around for Mila.

'I have this crazy craving for brownies. I've been craving them since the morning. I NEED some. I can't explain this, ok. I'll just be quick.' You said, but quickly fell silent as Felix held out a box to you.

'You were craving brownies?' He said in a small voice, like he was finding it difficult to believe. His eyes drifted past you to Mila and back to you.

'What's this?' You ask and he opens the box for you.

You're silent again, staring at the brownies he got you.

'I've been making them with my sisters all morning.' He said. 'I wanted to bring some for you earlier, but -'

He watched as you took the box from him.

'You made these?' You asked, tears blurring your vision.

'Yeah, I did.' He said and he looks nervous as you take a bite. Then you are crying. Felix makes a bold move and puts his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you cried.

'Tell me this is real. I'll believe you.' You cry. 'I've been feeling like an idiot, craving things I've never even tried before. And then you're here and I don't know what's happening.'

'Baby, please don't cry.' Felix said, rocking you gently in his arms. 'I want to believe it's true, too. I didn't when Mila told me. But it's a little too much of a coincidence, yeah? And I really don't care if it's true or not, 'coz I know I like you. I want to give us a try.'

'You're leaving. What happens then?' You asked, tears streaming down your tired face.

'Sweetheart, we can figure it out. Ok?' Felix said softly. 'I promise we will. Can you please stop crying now?'

You wipe your tears away, and take a good look at him.

'Y/N. I'm sorry. I feel like this is all my fault.' Mila said sadly. 'I feel so stupid! I never really stopped believing in my grandma's stories. I-I'm sorry if I confused you.'

'No. No, don't.' You say, hugging your friend. 'I'm not mad at you ok? I just want to know if it's real.'

The restaurant was so pretty, lit with a golden glow of the yellow lights and it was so peaceful. You sat with Felix on one side and Mila on the other. You couldn't keep the smile off your face as Felix held your hand in his under the table. It felt so childish, but also so so romantic.

Mila was ranting on about something, but no one was actually listening. You and Felix just shared timid glances and smiled so much. His fingers intertwined with your, his thumb rubbing at your skin gently. You loved it.

And then all of a sudden, Mila yelled. You watch as she holds up her hand and a little red mark begins to spread on the smooth skin of her wrist.

'What the hell?!' Felix said, looking at the mark that had magically appeared on her hand.

'Is that a rash? Are you feeling ok?' You asked, examining the mark.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was wearing a black apron and was holding his right hand up.

'Soobin! I burnt my hand! Where's the first aid box?' The man called out, and the three of you stare at the red burn mark on his wrist. The exact replica of Mila's mark.

Mila puts her hand over her mouth, staring at the man. You look at Felix, before covering your mouth with both hands.

'It's true?! It's actually true?!' You cry out.

'What?!' Mila squeals, before standing up and hugging you over the table.

The man in the apron is now staring at you all, and you sit down, blushing.

'Is he my soulmate?! Am I gonna get injured every time HE does?!' Mila whisper screams.

'What?!' Felix joins in.

'Oh my god! You get the food and I get the pain?! So unfair!' Mila wailed, making you roll your eyes.

'You should be thankful that you have a soulmate with your level of psycho.' You said and Mila swats you across the table with her napkin.

'Calm down ladies, he's coming over.' Felix informed you and both of you sit back.

'Sorry about that. Are you guys ready to order yet?' He asked, bringing out a little tablet from his pocket.

Mila and you are studying the man closely as Felix placed your orders. He steps back after Felix hands the menu over.

'I want to ask him his name!' Mila said. 'I mean, I should right?'

'Why didn't you just ask him? You didn't mind ambushing me at all.' Felix said.

'Hey, you're not my soulmate. But he's potentially mine.' Mila said. 'I have to be careful.'

Just then, the guy was back and he seemed a bit embarrassed, but he asked, 'Aren't you Felix? I'm sorry, I had to ask.'

'Yeah, I am. Hi.' Felix said, blushing, but standing up and shaking hands with the guy.

'Oh wow! I'm Yeonjun. I've heard your music-'

'Yeonjun!' You mouthed to Mila who was absolutely, lost in him.

A few months later:

You wait, nervous and excited all at the same time. Even though you spoke every single day he was away, the thought of having him in front of you was overwhelming.

'I am so nervous, Mila, I can't even breathe.' You complain.

'Don't worry, that look on his face says he's not planning to let you breathe anyway.' Mila laughs before getting off the car. You watch as Yeonjun, who was leaning against the car waves and hugs Felix before taking his backpack from him. Felix then hugs Mila before getting into the car.

You freeze as you watch him get his mask off and then yours away. Then pulling you onto his lap, he kissed you. Months of not being able to touch you or kiss you had him craving you.

'I missed you so much.' He mumbled against your lips.

'I missed you too, baby.' You said, kissing him again.

When you were both satisfied for the moment, Yeonjun and Mila joins you in the car.

'So, what next?'

'Let's go to that wrap place.' Felix suggested. 'You haven't been there, have you Yeonjun?'

'Nope' said Yeonjun, starting the car.

And that's where you went. Where it all started.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

okay, i have no one else to say this to, and ARAs make me feel rabid. Sorry for this, lol. I get constantly frustrated by vegans using specism as a reason for their choice,,, outside of the irony that most of the ones i’ve seen online are super racist and ableist with more care for animals than the people who farm their food. I just think the argument is incredibly hollow. There is constantly more evidence that plants have sentience, so why are animal lives prioritized over plants? with this knowledge wouldn’t an omnivorous and sustainable diet be the most ethical from an anti-specist perspective?

They will never care about plants because many of them go by the “I don’t eat it if it has a face” mantra despite that being quite reductive and not even inclusive of most animals let alone plants or fungi which function on such a high level humans can’t even fully perceive its scope.

They’ll say omnivores only eat animals because we see them as “less than” which they acknowledge as being wrong but if you mention plants they go on about how OBVIOUSLY that’s different because a plant doesn’t have REAL feelings because they don’t have brains or even a basic central nervous system, which, is arguable, but more to the point is really not any different from saying a pig doesn’t have REAL value since it can’t read and doesn’t even have opposable thumbs.

They will flaunt that it’s difficult to argue that speciesism is fake without using an argument a white supremacist would make about poc, but it’s difficult for them to argue for the life of a plant or fungus not mattering without it sounding like something a filthy carnist would say about steak.

Point being, the tactic they use to claim comparing black people to livestock as not being racist is a very easy tactic to redirect at them because the fact of the matter is that humans have a very limited perspective. No matter what you do, you’ll always see the world through the lens of a human being.

It’s easy for a human to sympathize with something they can relate to. A pig? One of the closest genetic relatives to humans and express a lot of human-like opinions through their actions. That’s actually why I don’t personally eat pork. It’s easy to sympathize with a pig. Many people are more okay with eating fish because they’re cold blooded, slimy, don’t have arms or lungs or legs or anything a human can easily relate to, they don’t even have eyelids or a complex heart, so of course they don’t bat an eye to fishing in comparison to hunting because a fish is more primal and feels less human. Then there’s invertebrates, very few people feel guilt eating a crab, they’ll even justify boiling lobsters alive if you tell them it tastes better! After all, is that even REALLY a face? Which part is their mouth? What are those creepy antennae? Perhaps it isn’t even fit to eat since it looks so alien to humans.

Even for the plight of an insect most ARAs can stand by their principle, but what is it that makes plants and mushrooms different? No, they don’t have a face, but they still respond to different stimuli, plants and fungi can even send messages to others in their colony to warn of danger and more that we don’t really understand yet.

The average person doesn’t care about squashing a bug because they don’t see enough of themselves in it to care about its life, so why do ARAs see no issue in harming plants and fungi just because they don’t see enough similarity between them and animals?

To live, you have to take away from the life of another. That’s how life works. You can adjust your diet to suit your ethics, I certainly do, but if you’re going to try to guilt and force it on others then you could at least try to be less hypocritical.

[jymwahuwu]

Hii! Ok so, how would Tighnari and Cyno react to darling being depressed? And I mean, she was depressed before, but now its worse.

How would they react to see darling in a state where she cant get hernself to eat, and struggles to even brush her teeth?

What would they do to make her feel better?

Also, ik Tighnari wats a BIG family, but, would he really risk darling's depression get even worse by getting her pregant? (After pregancy or during the pregancy, a lot of women end up suffering from depression)

Also, just imagine them react to her having a very bad estime asswell witch lead to the first state of depression before abduction (after abduction it got worse) bc of the toxic people she has been surrounded, and cannot bring hernself to look in the mirror?

Ok, idk if ur gonna accept to do this, but I was just trying to make mynself relate to the reader 😅

Anyways, thank you for reading my request and if u dont want to do it, its fine, dw! (Again, excuse my bad english)

TW: yandere, kidnapping, mentioned pregnancy, depressed reader

Tighnari and Cyno see you sinking so depressed that they start looking for any way to make you feel better. This isn't the first time they've comforted the family, and Collei has given them a little experience.

You chew the bread a few times, letting out soft whimpers and sniffles occasionally, and then burst into tears, tears falling into the bread, the salty taste melting on your tongue. They think you're rebellious and tell you to finish your meals in a firmer tone.

"I-I can't." You said.

Cyno: "What? Why? It's just a piece of bread, listen to me, take a few bites."

Tighnari: "Are you sure you don't want that bit of nutrition? Eat it, don't make me say it again."

You are so powerless in your current situation that you suspect this is your punishment - why did the Forest Rangers/General Mahamatra lock you up? Why is he acting like he loves you? Love is locking that person up against their will?

They didn't investigate your mental health before this. This is really unexpected. Poor thing, you can't even do simple things like dressing yourself and brushing your teeth by yourself now. They'll do this for you and even shower you. It's kind of satisfying and guilt-ridden for them - you're like a little pigeon eating in their hands. It would be too cruel to put you in a cage like this.

They bring you any gift you want, almost allow you to get anything you can buy with mora, bring you Fontaine's popular magazine, Inazuma's light novel. They read you some funny joke or content. You can even go out as much as you want! As long as you end up returning within a day, they won't ask you to explain or capture you.

They can't be there for you 24/7. In their absence, they are viscerally uncomfortable at the thought that you might sob. So! They allow you to have some pets, what do you want? cat? dog? bird? little sheep? fish? Crystalflies? Tighnari will teach you how to take care of them. He brought Karkata over here. Sometimes you will see that adorable mechanical crab make coffee and cover you with quilts! Cyno, studies methods with you. He will call himself dad and the pets are the kids.

As for getting pregnant…if they find out you're in this state, they won't even try. Even if there is no big family to leave a little regret, but it's okay. Love is the most important thing in the family. They have to take care of you.

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Hello! As someone with an newfound interest in Ren'Py and the way it works, I'm going to be dissecting the code of Our Life to explain (roughly) how the game adjusts Cove's look based on your actions. We'll be looking specifically at the transition between Step 1 and Step 2 Cove since that's the very first one that players will experience (I might detail Step 3's changes and Step 4's changes if people want that).

According to GB Patch themselves in response to asks, the way Cove changes his appearance is relatively simple:

His appearance is based on your choices and not random, but it’s taste/aesthetic-based choices rather than the usual conversation type options. So, being nervous or outgoing or what have you will influence Cove’s personality, while choosing the things you like will impact the way Cove looks.

Technically, this is accurate, but not entirely in terms of some decisions you can make that determine Cove's appearance.

Coding-wise, changing Cove's appearance is a simple True/False (yes/no) variable, not a point system. After one decision, Cove might change from the natural evolution of his Step 1 hair (Hair1) to the fluffier hair (Hair2) and it doesn't matter how many times you pick options that would cause that hair: if the last decision is for the hair with the middle part, that's what you'll end up getting.

The TL;DR of it is that, for the most part, things that the MC notices/picks up/favors/focuses on will influence Cove's appearance, but there are a couple that aren't like that and will change him anyway. If you're doing a repeat playthrough and are intentionally trying to get a different Cove, then picking different taste/aesthetic choices is the way to go, but be aware that it's not a guarantee; some options will lead to the same outcome you chose before.

If you want to see what options specifically change his look, then feel free to continue reading\~

The first chance that the player has is when they meet Cove on poppy hill during the prologue. They're given choices on what to "notice first" (according to the game's internal code) and the options lead to different appearance changes:

Green hair. [takes off Cove's glasses and puts on his left pink beaded bracelet]

Wavy eyebrows. [takes off Cove's glasses]

Huge glasses. [sets Cove's glasses to the rounded brown ones]

Pink casts. [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

Sad frowns. [sets Cove's glasses to the rectangular blue ones and puts on his left pink beaded bracelet]

The last chance is during the ending of Step 1 where you have the option to either go home or stay with Cove, completely unrelated to taste/aesthetic altogether.

If you choose to go home, Cove's hair is set to the fluffy hair, but if you stay, nothing will be set until you get to talk to Cove about his feelings on Sunset Bird.

"Do you hate it here?" [sets Cove's hair to the middle-parted one]

"This can be your home." [sets Cove's hair to the fluffy one]

"It'll be alright." [no change]

This means that you will never get anything on Cove's right wrist (his right, not our right) if you choose not to play any of the moments (or somehow skipped to Step 2 without playing Step 1, because Cove - by default - doesn't wear bracelets). His pajamas and jacket (the one he dons during Step 2's Road Trip) will likewise remain at their defaults.

This includes if you choose to only play Step 1's Library specifically. It's the singular moment that doesn't contain any chances to change Cove's appearance.

As for the other moments...

Shopping

Your chance is when you see the four keychains at the shopping street with Cove.

You picked up the dolphin. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt and the light blue pajama shirt]

You picked up the shark. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt and the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

You picked up the crab. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt and the light blue pajama shirt]

You picked up the turtle. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt and the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

Grown Up

Cove's pants change (that sounds weird but I'm not taking it back) depending on if you tell your moms what happened between Cove and Lizzie or not.

You told the truth. [gives Cove the pants with the belt]

You lied. [gives Cove the pants with the stripes]

Long Day

Changing Cove's pajamas (and only his pajamas, unlike in Shopping) is done when the MC decides which dessert they're craving.

A popsicle. [gives Cove the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

An ice cream cone. [gives Cove the light blue pajama shirt]

An ice cream sandwich. [gives Cove the purple pajama shirt with the compass symbol]

Then you change his casual shirt when you're watching the clouds with Cove, depending on what you see.

You saw a dolphin. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt]

You saw a car. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt]

You saw an alpaca. [gives Cove the dark blue short-sleeved shirt]

You saw a smiley face. [gives Cove the red salamander sleeveless shirt]

You saw cloud shapes. [no change]

Sandcastle

This time, it's the type of sandcastle you make that varies Cove's hair specifically.

A house. [sets Cove's hair to the fluffy one]

A castle. [sets Cove's hair to the middle-parted one]

A mansion. [sets Cove's hair to the fluffy one]

Then, his pants change based on what you top the sandcastle with.

Red bottlecap. [gives Cove the pants with the belt]

Blue seashell. [gives Cove the pants with the stripes]

Green piece of seaglass. [no change]

Fireflies

Cove will wear (or not wear) the beaded necklace from how you respond to your Mom prompting you on your excitedness to see/catch the fireflies.

"Yeah!" [no change]

You started eating faster. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

You looked over at your moms. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

You pushed your food around your plate. [no change]

Ghost

You get another chance to put on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet regardless of whether you choose to talk to your moms or go outside.

If you went to talk to your moms, the bracelet may or may not be put on depending on what topping you ask for on your toast.

"Jam." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"Peanut butter." [no change]

"Honey." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"Just butter." [no change]

"Extra butter." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

If you chose to go outside instead, the kind of genre you choose for the story you say you and Cove are in decides it.

"It's a horror story." [no change]

"It's an action story." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"It's a fantasy story." [puts on Cove's left pink beaded bracelet]

"It's a documentary." [no change]

Barbecue

Cove's right wristwear changes if you choose to sneak a snack when no one's watching.

A baby tomato. [puts on Cove's right shark tooth wrap bracelet]

A small carrot. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A cocktail sausage. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A rolled piece of ham. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A potato chip. [puts on Cove's right wristband]

A tortilla chip. [puts on Cove's right shark tooth wrap bracelet]

Cove may also get the beaded necklace if you pick certain drink options from the cooler.

Soda. [no change]

Water. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

Juice. [puts on Cove's beaded necklace]

Milk. [no change]

Runaway

This moment only gives you a chance to change Cove's look if you go along with him; specifically, his glasses depending on which snack you ask from him.

"Chips." [sets Cove's glasses to the rounded brown ones]

"A muffin." [takes off Cove's glasses]

"A banana." [sets Cove's glasses to the rectangular blue ones]

"Candy." -> "Fruity candy." [takes off Cove's glasses]

"Candy." -> "Chocolate." [sets Cove's glasses to the rounded brown ones]

"Nothing. I'm not hungry." [sets Cove's glasses to the rectangular blue ones]

Sleepover

If you've been following so far and been wondering when your chance to finally change Cove's jacket is, this is it! It's from how you describe the storybook that Cove picks up.

"I love the main character 'cause the squire's really brave and funny." [gives Cove the white and bright pink jacket]

"It has cool pictures. Some of them even take up the whole page." [gives Cove the gray and black jacket]

"Mommy reads it to me. She uses different voices for every character." [gives Cove the white and bright pink jacket]

"There's a dragon in it and crazy things happen." [gives Cove the gray and black jacket]

So, just in case you're the type of player who doesn't like using the Cove Creator but still wants a little more control (either by picking different options or changing the order of moments so your last choices land on what you want), now you can engineer things to your liking because you know how it works!

And if you were just here for the data, then I hope you enjoyed anyway~

[bettyfrommars]

I love wip games like this, to get a lil taste of all the yummy fics that are out there. Dearest @somnambulic-thing @thecreelhouse and @rebelfell thank you for thinking of me.

What are 5 lines you've written that gave you butterflies?

I wrote so damn much last year while I was spiraling, I forget a lot of where the butterflies came from, but here are a few that stuck with me:

Nightmare Factory Blurb

"I wish I could tell you that," Eddie whispered, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "I wish I could keep you."

Waste Away with Me

"Hey," he tipped your chin to make you look up into his dark, hopeful eyes. "Kiss me if you're mine."

Biker Steve: Ring of Fire

“You’re still good with your hands I see,” gesturing to his calloused digits, the moons of his cuticles stained from grease and oil, knuckles slashed with white scarring.

He flexed his right hand into a fist and then opened it again, deliberate and slow, watching you as he did so.  “I do all right.”

Say Goodnight

His warm breath tickles the shell of your ear. “I’ll be here waiting right where you left off. You’ll always have me as long as you never let me die.”

Handcuffs & Crab Rangoon

“Wait,” Eddie sank his hand around your throat, guiding you back up to full height.  “Kiss me first,” he swiped the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip.  “And then you can kill me.”

a little something extra from another wip because it makes me giggle:

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m real,” he was grinning at first, but then he looked down at his feet and it sank into a frown. “But I think my wish got lost in translation.”

“Your wish?”

“Yeah, so,” he was playing with one of his rings, avoiding eye contact. “There’s a Wishing Well where I come from, and it kinda has…powers.”

“Powers.” You repeated softly, trying to wrap your head around it.

He interlaced his fingers in front of him, and you realized he could easily sit on the tip of your finger.  

------

I think a lot of people have already been tagged so please do this if you would like to and tag me? would love to read your lines. But also tagging: @dr-aculaaa @courtingchaos @kookygranger @allthingsjoeq@girlwiththerubyslippers @texasblues @briarberrythornedhart @rosewaterandivy @br0ck-eddie @destroya2005 @atinylittlepain @catherinnn

[ruiniel]

HIIIII! i've been reading a bit through your blog and i've liked it a lot, the way you write for alucard is very sweet and i haven't seen much of him x male reader so could i make a request?

in my mind reader helped alucard along with trevor and sypha, but reader is a magical creature that lives within the forest and takes care of alucard from afar after sypha and trevor left so it was only just the two of them even after the events with taka and sumi. this is just for little context.

so, reader is pretty much very in love with alucard and is always to his disposition, but when greta arrives and starts to notice how happy he looks with her, reader starts to question if he's even good enough for alucard so even if he's at alucard's disposition he starts to drift away thinking that alucard may be better off with greta. that until alucard finds him again and formalize ofc 🥰

thanks for reading allat and if you're not interested feel free to ignore it, bye bye!

Thank you for the prompt, here's a little scene. I took a pre-poly relationship approach here...

For each other

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021) | Pairing: Alucard x male reader | Rating: T Count: 2K | Tags: self-deprecation, pining, angst, feels

A late, sunny afternoon. There is no one but the two of them in the large kitchen: Alucard has her pinned against a counter, his gaze dropping from her warm brown eyes to her lips, leaning close enough to taste—

They break apart at the sound of something thudding onto a hard surface. Alucard turns his head, eyes still glazed and heartbeat soaring from their kiss. He blinks owlishly at the sight of you unleashing a hoard of crab apples on the table.

You’d been gone for some time, and now meticulously catch the escaped apples and gather them back into the large wicker basket, all the while doing a great job of not looking at Greta or Alucard, staring at you. “Don’t stop on my account,” you murmur, leaning over to catch an apple about to roll off the table.

“...?” Greta untangles herself from Alucard’s arms, half-turning.

“Found plenty of these in a glade not far from here,” you say as you arrange the fruit. “Fallen from the trees, just there to rot if nobody uses them. Who would have thought?” You turn away, taking an apple and avoiding their eyes as you make to leave.

Greta calls your name. “Wait,” she tries again, taking a step forward, but Alucard’s hold is tight on her wrist.

As the door shuts behind you, Greta moves to go after you, anyway; Alucard holds her fast. “Perhaps…” he says, turning her gently to face him, “Let me speak to him, this time.”

Greta nods. There are many things to speak of indeed, things long overdue. Knowing what happened and all you’ve been through together until this point, it might be best for Alucard to reach you first. Her fingers graze the side of his face. “Bring him back.”

When the door is closed, you stare at the stone walls of the corridor, your gaze traveling up, up, up, to the high ceiling. Your ears are ringing. There comes a need to be anywhere but here. 

Your body takes initiative before your mind does and then you’re pacing through castle halls, away, away, through tall grass, through dust and dirt until you find yourself…

“I’ll never escape this, will I?” you speak, gazing up absently at the remains of the Belmont Manor. You’re not even sure how you got here but take a deep breath, head tipping up to the sky.

So what? This is a good thing, right? Alucard being less miserable is a good thing. Greta having him is a good thing, and they need more Good Things in their lives. You want their happiness, would kill to see either of them pleased and living out their best days, such as they are. It’s all win-win here.

Then why the moping?

They don’t owe you anything. She doesn’t, Alucard doesn’t. Could you be such a supremely conceited dumbass that you actually thought needing them and being there meant you deserved to be a part of…

They’re your friends, your companions, the only people who ever cared. They’re your only friends, comes that voice within. So what, you love them no less.

You open your eyes, frowning at the clouds as though seeing daylight for the first time in your life.

You... love them.

Both.

You walk the broken grounds, through what used to be antechambers, through what used to be a dining room.

Breathe. Breathe, you idiot.

Fact is, one doesn’t always get what one wants — in your case almost never, which is just the bare truth and not you feeling sorry for yourself.

Well, you are, but that doesn’t make it less true.

Again, so what? So what, so what—the two words churn in your mind, an endless storm stealing your breaths without remorse. You drag both hands over your face. You’ve been out of it for too long, until you’ve stumbled upon Alucard, never lingered on what it entails, but now you know, now you see.

So, then, this must be jealousy. Feels great. Not only does God hate you, God placed a price on your head and sent their rabid revenge hounds with devotion and tenderness and lust crushed between their teeth, smashing inadequacy and resentment together in merciless jaws before biting into your face.

Someone calls your name.

You start, the breaths freezing in your chest. Great. You sigh. “You really have to stop creeping up on people like that.” Can you do this now?

“I’m sorry,” Alucard says, then just. Stands there.

Oh, no. You can’t do this now. You kick the dirt. “What is it, Alucard?” If you felt miserable before, now guilt and shame joined in and are having a day of it.

“It’s Alucard, now?” he asks softly, and you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. You’d slipped into calling him ‘Adrian’ not long ago. “Either way, I was hoping you could tell me,” he continues.

“Look, I’m just out here... for some time to think...”

“... which was so urgent a need, you had to rush out without looking back, despite Greta calling your name.”

You discover: when you’re hurting after someone, it only hurts more if they ridicule you. “Your point?” you pinch your brows, trying very hard not to lash out, not to be an asshole, because Alucard... Adrian doesn’t deserve it.

Alucard tilts his head to one side, takes another few steps, then sits down on the ruins—and doesn’t catch fire, a childish part of you thinks. “I know things between us have always been,” he looks you in the eye, “complicated.”

“Understatement of the century,” you stare up at the broken clock tower. “We’re going back to me asking about your point.” Your heart beats faster, and you know he can sense it.

Alucard watches you closely, kindly. His lips part. “You were there for me when I needed you. When I didn’t even know… what I needed.”

“... we did that for each other,” you mutter. “Alucard, really, you can stop this. I’m not a total idiot. You two are together, that’s great. You’ve been through so much, you deserve some peace of mind,” you say, even as Alucard rises and nears you. “And hell knows Greta deserves it, now would you please, please, leave it?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’re begging. You never begged in your life, not even when you were held down at knife point, helpless and with your powers snuffed by magic. But now you’re compelled to because, because…

“I only want to remind you,” Alucard follows, looking at you, “that you once told me I wasn’t alone.”

Your eyes widen for a moment. You look away, unable to keep the misery from your voice. “Why are you going back there?” 

“Why are you running away?” He is close enough that you’re unable to move. “I am also at fault. I’ve been absorbed by my loss that I failed to see you.”

“You still mourn your family, which is a grand pass in my book. Look,” you stare at Alucard’s genuinely curious expression. “I… you need the time. Take it.”

“You care so much about what I need?” His face is honest as he meets your eyes. 

“Does that surprise you?” you ask, crawling beneath your facade, which you get the feeling falls short before Alucard now, anyway.

“I need you.”

You’ve never been the violent sort, unless someone threatened what you cherished. But now you want to punch him, because this… the implication is a joke beyond your wildest dreams, the ones that wake you up in a sweat with your pulse in a rush, where golden eyes turn red, with hot breaths in your ear and you can still taste—“Don’t.”

“I do,” Alucard looks up at the broken tower, then back at you. “And I nearly waited too long.”

He comes closer, a hand on your shoulder. You stare at it, then at Alucard, and you absolutely loathe your body in this moment, for all it wants is closer. “You’re with Greta.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alucard’s eyes narrow. “Yes, you remembered Greta, gods willing.” His face becomes colder, but his eyes are pleading something you can’t understand. “I love her.”

“I’m … glad for you,” you say, falling apart.

Alucard shakes his head. “I love her, and she worried herself sick over you, stood by you for days and nights, tending to you when you were wounded. She can’t bear the thought of you leaving here, wanted to run after you just now and ask what happened because she can’t stand to always see you unhappy. Do you see a pattern?”

“I just… I care about her very much, as you likely have guessed,” you mumble, “all I want is for her to be happy. For… for you to be… .”

“Then don’t run,” Alucard says. “Not from her, not from me.”

“I never run.”

“Then don’t.”

“I just said—nevermind,” you mutter with a smile, spent and needy and you would just…

“Come back inside,” Alucard urges softly, running those long, nervous fingers along your scalp, forehead pressed to yours.

You shudder, would purr like a shameless cat if scraps of your dignity weren’t in the way. “... fine,” you murmur, lips curving upward against your will, fears dispersing like shadows chased by the coming dawn. 

Alucard’s hand cups your head again, but now it’s different; there’s hunger in the touch. You lean forward, helpless. Defeated. Aching.

You’re caught in an embrace, like the Inevitable wrapping itself around you and heaven or hell help you. There’s no escape, for you lack the will to fight this, then wonder why you would—isn’t this what… what you wanted? Didn’t you gut yourself over precisely this, wasting nights away, mind on Alucard and what you share and what you feel, what it would be like, to be close to him… to them? 

“You make everything so difficult for me all the time, you know that?” you say with Alucard… Adrian’s breath on your lips.

“I believe I’m actually making it easy.” He’s smiling, pointedly.

You draw back a little and Alucard follows, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “Are you sure—”

“Are you really going to question me kissing you now?” he admonishes fondly and noses at your cheek, upper lip curling like it does when he’s annoyed.

“Fair,” you admit defeat, and with that, tilt your head just enough; feel Alucard’s soft lips between your teeth, Alucard’s tongue curling around yours, his taste and you’re grabbing onto the collar of his coat with both hands—more to keep yourself upright, in all honesty—remembering everything: the tingling, slow, hard pressure of Alucard’s mouth, the weakness in your knees and the flare burning low in your body. It’s just as… no, it’s even better than you thought, not as desperate but closer, softer, deeper. You can only liken it to drowning on air, on want, on taste and the sweet-heady scent of skin.

When you tug with abandon at his lip, Alucard brings you to his chest, a foot wedged between yours, hands ordering your hips flush together. All you can think of is how you shouldn’t be enjoying the manhandling as much but you desperately do, and would like more but this is too good a dream to switch for gratification now, too eager to feel him and your unspoken needs weaved together like bonds.

You release the collar of Alucard’s coat, thumbs drifting along his jaw, the determined, hard lines and smooth skin, the way his nose bumps into your cheek as you kiss, the way your own body runs hot and melds with his rising heat.

“Am I dead?” you ask, breathless when you slowly break apart. You stare at Alucard with a self-deprecating smile, the longing bare on your face, panting once, twice, only for Alucard to kiss you again.

You give up and hug him tighter, hands roaming and clutching at him, drifting down to his waist as Alucard twists with you and presses forward until your back meets the nearest wall.

“Wait... weren’t we... going inside?” you pant, looking beyond his shoulder. People are still walking to and fro, though for now you’ve been reasonably sheltered from any curious eyes.

“Right... yes... of course,” Alucard answers in much the same way. He wastes not a moment in dragging you after him, his arm tight around your waist.

[locobastaaa]

The fine line between what's real and what's not

Tighnari x Reader

Tw: suggestive at the end, Wanderer (Sora) slander (we love him), hybrid bunny! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Your gaze felt heavy on him once he noticed, and you didn't take your eyes off him while he moved around in a frantic hurry. He didn't need to be so nervous under your stare, and he tried to seem unbothered by it, but his tail betrayed him, swaying around behind his back in rapid strokes. 

You chuckled at the sight, moving your palm to accommodate the curve of your cheek as you rested your head on the table, notes and ink splattered on the fair wood, your eyes following the dark spots, reminding you of the work undone. 

You sighed quietly, but your eyes found his figure again, following the droplets of rain curling at the ends of his hair and down the floor. He thought that maybe you'd taken Nahida's words too seriously, but shook his head. You were smarter than that, there was no way you believed that mushrooms would start growing on his head by some little rain that caught up to him when he finished up his daily routine of forest-watching. 

His ears flattened at the top of his head when he remembered the condition of the forest. The complaints of the citizens and wanderers about the increase of mechanical animals were getting irritating, even though he assured that none of the creatures were nearby the path that most (he wanted to say everyone but there were some that shook the recommendations of the forest guide off like it was a challenge to stay on the road, trying to make themselves brave by putting them and everyone around in danger just to prove guts) followed, the letters kept appearing on the mailbox, he even had to accompany some people down the path to see if he was missing something, if he saw what other people claimed he wasn't seeing (which he doubted, but better be safe than sorry), but as soon as they pointed out what seemed to be one of the monsters, forcing him to take out his bow, Tighnari had to restrain himself from shooting them on the head when he realized that the 'mechanical crab' was a deformed tree. 

"Tighnari?" Your voice took him out of his head, realizing his jaw was clenched and his nails had poked holes through his gloves. 

He spared you a glance just as quickly as he averted his gaze, falling down to the door in front of him to hide his flushing cheeks. 

Why were you this cute? He still didn't seem to find the answer, and he didn't find the answer as to how his name on your tongue felt electrifying either, but he'll eventually figure it out (or flat out admit it, since he already knew, Cyno's words, not his). 

"Yeah? Having trouble answering letters?" He spoke too softly for his taste, but you made no comment about it, spinning back to your desk as your hand picked up the abandoned pen from the desk. 

You shook your head, and even if he didn't see you, he heard your movements, he heard everything after all. This time the affirmation are his words, he grows tired of comments assuming his thoughts from his friends, specially if it involves his love life. 

Collei seemed to be on Cyno's side as well, even though she hadn't experienced any romance related situations (he and Cyno made sure of it, she's too young), she implored him to just confess his supposed feelings towards you. 

Unlike Cyno, he shook her off gently and said that there was no time for that sort of intimacy in his life, and that she should focus more on her studies rather than a fantasy of her own. 

Yet here he was, contradicting his own words, living in between reality and fantasy as he drew holes on the back of your head while you wrote, your long ears flapping with each stroke of the pen against paper, he wondered if your ears were as soft as they looked, or if his were softer (most likely not the case even though he took good care of them, they would never shine like yours, yet again, it's a different type of fur so who knows (he knows)). 

"Bunn- (Y/n)" the nickname that Cyno gave you (and that brought an unshakable ick on his chest) almost slipped up, but he caught himself just in time. "When you finish your papers let me know, I'll be in my office". 

He grabbed a few samples from a cabinet and began to walk away, but you wouldn't let him leave after his slip up. 

"You can call me Bunny, you know" 

His lips morphed into a line. 

"It's a thing between you and Cyno right? I wouldn't want to intervene" 

You cocked your head to the side in confusion, a thing between you and Cyno? 

"You know Sora gave me that nickname, right?" 

His eyes narrowed at that. That's even worse! 

"Never knew you and that man were so close". 

Your frown deepened, Tighnari seemed to have a particular hostility towards Wanderer. Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges, but you knew the hybrid had dealt with worse and always kept his cool...Paimon for example-. So it seemed out of the ordinary for him to be so shaken up by a boy who he hadn't had the chance to talk to properly. 

"What's up with you and Sora? He's not that bad when you get to know him" 

His ears flattened at the top of his head again. 

"I don't want to get to know him, I think I've been around him enough to know he's bad news" 

You stood up from your seat and circled around his body like a hyena, trying to catch his eyes. Tighnari gritted his teeth at the thought of you trying to defend that man so uptight. 

When you didn't speak any further, he felt the need to rant as his gaze locked with yours. 

"I don't know why but-," a tingling feeling coursed through his back, as if electricity was running down his veins. "He's crude and vulgar, and he looks at you like you're a piece of meat, talk about a walking contradiction".  His nails sharpened when he pictured how Wanderer basically undressed you with his eyes, it disgusted him. 

You took some sort of offense by this. "He does not look at me like that," his glare stopped your tracks for some seconds before your eyebrows furrowed. "You talk as if you're jealous". 

He did not even imply something like that, you knew that, but testing his waters was something you didn't have the chance to do so frequently, specially since he seemed to have a never ending patience towards you. It was a bit cruel, but- 

"I am". 

Well, that, you didn't expect. 

It felt like all of the denying and hiding was slipping through the cracks of his pride, trying to hold down the water before the dam collapses and he ends up confessing. But he can't stop the flow of it, it's too much, the water had grown out of proportion through the years of silent pining, denying and glances. He especially can't now, your face is so pretty when it flushes red, and he also can't help his body moving before his mind can. 

Your lips are soft against him, and he almost groans like an animal when your fingers close around his forearms tightly, pawing at the fabric of his hoodie. He's waited years to feel you against him, and he pushes the thought aside that a small discussion of a hat guy could have ended up like this. 

Your back is now pressed against the wall and you can't breathe, not because you were out of air, but everything was so sudden that it made your knees tremble and your lungs contract. 

You fought to close your eyes, you had to see it to believe it after all, but his hands felt heavy on your hips, and his body pressed so deliciously against yours that if you couldn't see it, you could at least feel it. Feel him. Feel his tail wrapping around your lower back as he pushes you flush against the wall and his chest. Feel his palms lowering to your thighs as he pulls you up in the air and around his waist, feel his tongue flatten against yours and his fangs brush your lips. 

The line between reality and fantasy began to blur yet again, his hold tightening on your thighs as his ears brushed yours. You were pliant as giddy under his claws, and it made his body temperature rise. 

Maybe telling Collei to stop gushing over some silly fantasy ended up in the  materializing of said spectrum in the real world, because damn if this was a dream he never wanted to wake up.

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 27

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: slight implications of unhealthy eating habits

Words: 3352

Taglist:@thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae

Previous:

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Holding you close to his chest, Namjoon let his lips brush up against your neck, only a small bit away from your scent gland. You let him take care of you, the alpha gentle with you in his arms.

It didn't take much longer before a knock sounded, making most of you look up. With the packalpha's arms holding you even closer, gently moving your face into the crook of his neck.

Inside came a soft call from a woman's voice about having some of the ordered meals already delivered. Yoongi, who sat closest to the doors, went over, murmuring thanks, before he took the two paper bags of delivery.

It wasn't everything by no means, but a part of their meal had arrived, so he placed it on the coffee table. Taehyung and Jungkook were the quickest to look over what was inside.

Taking one bag each, they both started pulling out the things inside, with a box of four corndogs first to be opened. They looked quite appetizing, with a bit of ketchup and sugar sprinkled on each one.

„Oh wah...” Jin mumbled, taking one right away before the youngest even got around to it. „Hyung! Bunbun gets the first one! Sweetie, choose which one looks the best, baby."

Jungkook whined softly, frowning at the eldest. Chuckling nervously, the alpha placed the corn dog back in the packaging, letting the young alpha show you the small paper box.

„It's ok-okay, thank you, Oppa." You said softly, your hands tightening onto Namjoon's, the packalpha returned the gesture right away.

Letting your head rest up against his collarbone again, Jungkook sighed softly, placing the package down, his hands wrapping gently around your cheeks.

Turning your face towards him, the alpha's face was filled with concern. He didn't feel right having you not eat while they did. The youngest understood that it most likely wasn't just you not being truly hungry either.

You had been eating so well the whole time, and he was worried about what triggered this. Have you been just feeling too anxious in the building? There were many people you didn't know around, was that it?

Kissing your forehead gently, he smiled softly at you. „It's okay, my little bunny. Don't worry, baby, okay? He whispered softly, letting his fingers gently caress your cheeks.

„How about onigiri kitty? Look what alpha ordered for you, sweet kitten." Handing you a plastic package already opened for you, the second eldest smiled softly at you, his eyes gentle on your form.

Reaching out for the small box, he placed it in your palms—the nicely stacked up rice triangles with neat rows of sushi - there was cooked shrimp, squid and octopus, salmon rue, a shrimp roll, and avocado, eel, and crab hosomaki too.

When they noticed the way your home cuisine sparked a bit of interest in you, Hobi was quick to reach for a pair of chopsticks laying around, breaking them apart for you before he handed them to you.

„Here, sunshine, have a taste, bub.” He smiled softly at you, ruffling up your hair before he quickly tamed it back down, chuckling gently.

Hovering over the takeout for a second, you chose to eat a few of the sushi rolls first, chewing on the crab one first; the colour was intriguing.

Breathing out softly, Namjoon let his lips linger on top of your head for a few good seconds, gently running his hands up and down your arms.

„Thank you, pup.” He whispered softly, watching you fondly while you ate a little bit from the takeout. The packmembers felt their hearts calm down a little bit, and they themselves dug in—another two bags arriving in the mean time.

„Here, princess, take a bite for alpha... It's really tasty, isn't it? You like it, baby? Have some more, my precious little thing."

Jimin gently urged you on, placing the box full of chicken marinated in some sauce and udon noodles hidden underneath, sprinkled with sesame seeds on top of your lap.

He didn't give you the chopstics, picking up a small bite-sized piece himself before he gently moved it to you with a hand underneath, making sure you wouldn't get dirty.

Smiling widely at you and chewing with a satisfied face, the alpha was quick to feed you a bunch of the udon noodles, but when you gently placed the box back in his hands, he only smiled gently.

„Peaches, sweetie, taste this; it's really nice, hm? It's soft and chewy; you'll like it, alpha promises.” Letting you bite into the large, filed-up dumpling, you nodded a little, satisfied with the taste.

You couldn't really tell what the filling was, but there was definitely a bit of beef. It was tasty, but after you chewed everything up, you didn't feel like eating much more.

Sipping on the pink drink you received not long ago, you all enjoyed the lunch together, everyone munching on something.

Declining the offered bites of pizza, noodles, and cucumber salad, you rested back up against Namjoon, the packalpha pulling you to himself gently.

With your stomach feeling full, you felt cosy enough to let your eyes flutter shut. Noticing your tired and sleepy eyes, he left his scent cloud over with calming pheromones, one of the attributes brought in by being an alpha.

His pack members noticed the difference in his scent immediately, looking over as if they thought something was wrong. Seeing you just cuddling up to the man as he helped you rest fully, had them calm down, the alphas soon following suit.

And so, the room changed it's whole aroma into a soft, calm, sleepy-like den. Namjoon finished up the bite of his pizza before he rested back himself, gently caressing your temples and hair.

It didn't take too long for you to fall asleep, having them notice the way your breathing slowed down and turned more soft, your scent going down in intensity.

Placing the plastic cup you still held back on the coffee table, Jungkook smiled gently at you, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment.

„Hyung,... I want Y/N as our 'mega." The youngest whispered, looking up at the packalpha. Namjoon smiled widely, chuckling at the sudden confession.

To be truthful, it was quite unnatural for the young alpha to get attached so quickly; since he was the youngest, he got cared for for a long time, even though he discovered his second gender pretty much just as they debuted and formed a pack.

Jungkook struggled sometimes with it, agitated that his packmates would feel the need to take care of him—he didn't need it after all; he was an alpha and therefore could take care of himself well enough.

But still, with the packmembers often pampering him a little bit, have it be teasing or not, he grew used to it for a few years, his naturally dominant side hiding for a while.

The youngest struggled getting to know different girls and getting attached to them; no matter how many omegas their company offered them, none of them felt right, whether they were older or younger than him, girls or not—it just didn't work.

He would sometimes think that it didn't matter if it felt right or not; since he technically couldn't know how it would feel when the puzzle pieces fell together, how could he know this wasn't how it would go?

Still, over the years, Jungkook always felt weird, taking care of omegas or even betas, even though it should have fulfilled any of his urges.

Now that he was maturing, he felt his second gender side growing more calm and collected, not as overpowering as once before, even though he was still quite far from being fully ready for bigger steps in his life.

And when he saw you, when he noticed your scent, the alpha realised that none of what was before mattered anymore—you were there now, and he knew this was right.

Mating and marking you would be a step in the future, that was certain, but every good pack would keep the courting process long and slow; it was important to not overwhelm the omegas.

Oftentimes not the most caring alphas would mate the first heat that would strike, and after that, their ruts would alight with their omegas if it hadn't happened earlier due to the long scent exposure.

The courting was important for many reasons, as once mated and marked, the omegas would truly be a part of the pack, and getting rid off the attachment wasn't too easy.

Getting to know each other was, of course, one of the more social aspects of courting, but the process consisted of getting used to the sudden adjustments more importantly.

They might have a completely different diet, they might struggle with health issues, mental or physical, or the alpha might have a too demanding job and would then struggle to take care of the omega in much need.

While supporting a family financially, for a good, understanding alpha, the support would come through actions more.

They have to show the omega they can take care of them, whether it be by cooking, buying them new things, cuddling and hugs, or scenting—everything was at play.

And after many tiring and stressful years, Jungkook finally had the sweet opportunity to express that he was, in fact, a good alpha. He could care for you and support any of your needs and wishes; he was able to provide.

Now that it didn't feel forced to do and came to him so naturally, he knew you would be the one for him, the most important and sweetest.

„I know Kook-ah; I want her as our 'mega too.” Namjoon answered truthfully, smiling softly at the younger alpha before he turned his eyes back to you.

„We should get the den started... It could be a sweet surprise; get it done without kitty knowing." Yoongi whispered gently, resting his back himself while he closed his eyes, his head thrown back in thought.

„I looked at more bed frames that are online; we can choose one together later. We could start decorating the room in the meantime." Hobi answered, opening one of the windows on his phone.

There was a luxury furniture website opened, with a tab called 'DEN ESSENTIALS' showing. The alpha has already filtered the search.

Apart from the regular colour and material options to choose from, there was also a way to narrow down the search for the right bed set by the number of packmembers.

After all, they would want to go back to the den just for you, but if the bed wouldn't fit everyone quite right, it wouldn't be comfortable enough to yearn for it.

The room was large enough, and the alphas have been planning on stretching out the bed from pretty much wall to wall. They might add bedside tables, though.

They didn't truly discuss the design of the room yet, but even if they didn't, they all knew your wants and needs were the most important.

While Yoongi probably wouldn't be the happiest in a room full of Hello Kitties and Cinnamonrolls, as he would sleep on a My Melody pillow, if you wanted to have a den bright and pastel themed, he would never complain.

After all, as long as you would build a nest for them, which, considering how much more and more sleepy and cuddly you were getting with them over the days, shouldn't take too long, they would gladly rest at any place of the planet.

It was an old saying that any alpha will sleep anywhere under the sun, as long as they have their omega with them, and there was for sure a bit of truth in it.

„I asked pup about what type of bedframe she liked the best the last time we went to the store; she prefers the wooden forms.”

„Yeah, those are much more classy; they are more traditional too.”The eldest alpha answered, nodding gently.

He remembered one of his classmates from when he went to school. The student was considered fairly cool and popular, for he had already established himself a pack back then, even though he was still very young and, quite frankly, immature.

The frat boy had two omegas with him, and Jin always felt slightly bad for them, noticing the way his classmate would oftentimes treat them. The disrespect was unimaginable.

But still, since their scents aligned so well, the four mates pack, consisting of one more beta, had formed while they were all still fairly young, the beta being the oldest, 20.

And after the information went around the school, considering the students were still around 18 years old at the oldest, it was a thing that made the boy quite literally famous.

Jin never spoke to him too much; his scent fell sour on his nose, and since they were both alphas and Seokjin was very pretty, putting him in an equally popular spot, the classmate never really approached him, the two alphas choosing to never interact.

He did hear him talk to a few of the 'friends' he gathered around himself, laughing loudly about how they broke the bedframe last night since it was only metal and didn't hold up during his oh so strong rut.

Jin felt slightly sick to his stomach, worried about the two, probably frightened omegas, but even when he tried to erase the image of that alpha in rut from his mind, he never truly managed, a nasty memory.

„Should we paint the room too? It's just white now.” Taehyung asked, thinking about the interior. He was a great fashionista, but room decor wasn't really where he felt his strongest.

„Maybe dark grey? I think it would be best if we kept the place dark and cosy; it should help princess sleep better, especially if she will be napping." The alpha said softly, thinking himself.

„Yea, I agree. I think our best bet is to make it easy to sleep in. It's a den after all; we can worry about details later. As long as little pup likes it, it's all good.” The packalpha murmured, patting your head gently.

The packmates rested back for a few more minutes, until Jin got a call. Since his phone was on silent mode, the ringtone didn't sound, and so, you were kept in your sweet dreamland, while the eldest got told about Sejin already waiting in the meeting room.

He ended the call soon, sighing out, while he started to pack up the empty food boxes—they seriously ate like hyenas sometimes.

While helping around, the rest of the alphas sorted through everything quickly, going from the room to the hall to sort everything in the right bin, making sure to recycle.

„Baby? Sweetheart, my little pup, wake up now. Alphas have to go see Sejin-Hyung. Come on now, sweet baby." Gently coaxing you from sleep, you fluttered your eyes open, Namjoon's dimples showing.

Going to rub your eye, Jimin interweaved your fingers with his instead, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles in a sweet gesture.

Yawning softly, you were still tired, but let yourself be pulled up again. The packalpha slowly placed you on the ground, making sure you weren't so tired you wouldn't stay steady.

Smiling widely at your sleepy state, Jimin ran his fingers through your hair, letting Yoongi come by and take your other palm in his. The older alpha tutted at how messy your hair was, combing it down so it sat neat and pretty.

„There, kitty, hold alpha's hand now, okay? Let's go, little kitten." Gently pecking your temple, Yoongi pulled you behind himself, Jimin walking next to you.

With the other pack members all coming with you, the pack soon piled back to the meeting room they went to this morning. This time, there were much fewer people involved—only the same man and other one.

Smiling gently at you all, Yoongi softly pulled you along, letting you sit down before he and Jimin both took a seat on each side of you.

The room had a strong light on, and with how sleepy and tired you still felt, you just wanted to go back to the soft, warm place Namjoon had tucked you away to, and go rest some more.

„I prepared the documents for you guys. Read them through and sign them.” Sejin said smoothly, handing Hoseok, the one sitting at the corner, a stack of stapled papers.

Each taking one and passing the tower of files along, all of the alphas started reading through it, though Namjoon looked up at his manager first.

„Hyung, would it be possible to take Y/N with us to The Soop?” Sejin looked over, his expression unreadable, for a few seconds.

Resting fully in his chair, the manager sighed out in thought, thinking about everything.

„I mean... As long as everyone is okay with Y/N being on camera, I suppose it would be okay. There should be enough room for everyone still.” No one spoke right away, the packmembers turning to you.

You looked up to Yoongi, the alpha's hand taking in yours, not worried about the situation they were in. You nodded a little bit; it couldn't be that bad, right?

„It's ok-okay, if you stay with me, oppas." You whispered softly, Jimin smiling widely, happy to hear your gentle confession. His heart did a little flip, the alpha realising that you found comfort in him.

„Well, in such a case, you would have to reveal that you have started the courting process before we air the series.” The other manager, whom the packmates obviously knew well but had never introduced, said softly, eyes lingering on your timid form for a little bit.

The man realised that bringing you to the industry quite suddenly could be a bit of an issue, but considering how well the packmembers were to you, he also realised that you were doing exceptionally well.

„It will be aired at the end of June, and we are leaving to record by the start of May, so before then. Sejin said, sighing gently. He could imagine you being mated to them by then, but nothing could be certain.

And if you were revealed as only courted at the moment, some bad stuff could go down, and he didn't want that to happen to any of you.

„That's o-okay...” You said it softly, squeezing both of the alphas hands gently. The pack members smiled at your answer, proud that you would take a step forward like that.

„Alright. I will get the file ready for you too, then, okay? You can sign it later, don't worry.” You nodded happily, realising that you wouldn't be there to truly shoot a show yourself, instead tagging along as a companion.

Namjoon knew that Sejin wouldn't let much of the cameras linger on you, and your face might be censored the whole time too, but that didn't matter.

The fans they had would understand and want what makes them happy to happen, and since it was you, the true ARMYs would be more than happy for them.

Deciding to go into it with such a mindset calmed the packalpha down. Sure, he felt a slight worry at the thought of your reaction to receiving a negative response to being courted by them.

It wouldn't be because of who you truly were if that happened, though; it would be something that would happen because you were courted by them, not anyone else.

The alpha felt a pang of guild strike him straight through his heart, but considering how excited you were about the whole In The Soop series, he couldn't linger on it for too long.

You were a sweet little thing, and they would keep you protected, making sure you wouldn't feel bad for any of the unreasonable hate you could possibly receive.

The alphas were ready to tuck you away from the world into their arms and wouldn't let any harm come your way.

Smiling softly, the packalpha opened the file, starting to read through it.

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Next:

[cocoa-rococo]

Koopaling Headcanons: Wendy

Larry | Morton | Wendy | Iggy | Roy | Lemmy | Ludwig

The bold beauty of Bowser's army and queen of our hearts, Wendy! Truly an icon for us all.

Right-handed.

All her clothes have pockets in them. She sewed them on herself, and after much pestering, she taught Roy how to do it as well.

A superb figure skater and rollerblader. She likes practicing on her own time and going out to a rink with Lemmy and Larry to have fun. Her coordination for moves is perfect.

She is one of the most organized generals out of all of them, and one of the most well-liked among the troops. Also they have some of the best color coordination.

She keeps a self-care journal. She originally did it out of spite, but now genuinely likes the thoughtfulness it provides.

She's allergic to nickel, so she's been finding a lot of her jewelry in titanium or gold.

Likes to bake! She has Iggy help her in the kitchen and has Larry as her taste tester, and often likes bribing exchanging favors with her brothers for their favorite treats. It partially paved the way for her donut business, too.

Speaking of which, HUGE sweet tooth, and likes all kinds of desserts, but little pastries are her favorite. Lemmy once made her macaroons after she had a bad day, and she was so touched she cried, and now the two of them make them together.

Favorite fruit is watermelon. Roy taught her how to spit the seeds out at people (much to Kamek’s disapproval), and now everyone stays a good ten feet away from her when she's eating them. Pomegranate and grapefruit are close behind.

Looooves the beach. Would spend all day there if she had the chance.

Runs a side hobby of trying and reviewing different beauty products, and when she got frustrated on how a lot of them are aimed at skin and not scales, launched her own line of cosmetics. She spearheaded quite a movement in the industry because of this.

She's a big seafood fan! Especially stuff you have to crack open, like shellfish, crabs, and clams. Free stress therapy.

Favorite candy is life savers, but she loves a lot of different kinds, particularly chocolate candies with fillings.

No one knows what her phone password is, not even her siblings. Attempts have been made to discover it. Those attempts have not ended well.

She's not what you would call a professional sketcher, but she's still a pretty decent fashion artist. She keeps a few sketchbooks in her room for designing new outfit ideas.

She swims whenever she needs to think or contemplate something; she says it's relaxing and helps her focus. If she's ever lost or can't be found, the first place her brothers check is a pool.

While not as involved with her siblings in the 'engineering' aspect of kart-making, when they started making their own businesses, she did want to do something related to it with design. After a bit of debate, she decided to focus on making the car look nice, not just run nice. And so, Wendy's Car Interiors was created.

She is allowed to tease her siblings and rough them up, because she has to stand the nonsense these boys put her through all day, every day. Other people do not have that privilege. She will make sure anyone who thinks otherwise is aware that they do not have that privilege.

Has two styles of handwriting: one that's cursive and sweeping for her own diary, and one that's a type of short-hand for when she needs to take notes.

She also happens to be the fastest writer of the seven. Ludwig is a little awed by it.

While her favorite way to spend time is through shopping, she's a surprisingly responsible credit card owner, balancing several at a time and always paying in-full on time. Her reward points amount is in the hundred-thousands.

Likes beach-reads! She goes through a lot of romance novels, but she can enjoy a good cozy mystery or contemporary at times. She likes reading before she goes to bed, too.

She’s fond of a lot of flowers, and certainly won’t say no to some unusually colored roses, but her absolute favorites are plumerias.

She doesn't play an instrument, but if she did, she'd pick either flute or harp.

Aside from Roy and Ludwig, one of her other siblings she's close with is Morton. He lets her practice different makeup color palettes on him, and they like to bond by getting skin treatments and having spa days together.

Not that she would tell anyone, but she does hold both a rivalry and begrudging admiration for Princess Peach and Princess Daisy.

Loves dragging the hell out of reality TV shows with Ludwig, but prefers to listen to talk-shows or beauty videos; they let her have something to listen to while she works on her designs, bakes, or does her routines.

She likes doing yoga as a way to relax, especially with Pom-Pom.

She's a schemer. All her siblings are, but, apart from Ludwig, she might be the most dangerous one out of all of them; she's not gonna stop at one prank. She's in it for the long-haul.

She doesn't remember it much, but apparently she had a very intense phase of bedazzling and glitter-ifying things when she was younger. Larry remembers this especially well because she somehow managed to bedazzle all of his game controllers in the span of one night. He's still not entirely sure how she did it.

When she was younger, she really wanted to be a ballerina, and took classes for it. It's become less of a dream now, but she still likes doing it. Lemmy likes to join her sometimes.

Likes keeping a to-do list, something she picked up from Ludwig. Only difference is that everything’s on her phone, since she always has it with her.

The best, perhaps out of all of them, at portal / teleportation magic, given her rings, as well as enchantment spells. She's also not too shabby at illusions, though hers are more focused on herself (rather than tricks and performances like Lemmy).

Her social media accounts are f l o u r i s h i n g, and swoon-worthy. Lots of beautiful pictures and her living her best life, along with promos for her businesses.

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

TUA Tumblr Simulator pt. 2

Find more here: pt. 1

—

💩is-reginald-hargreeves-dead-now Follow

10/01/2007

NO

💩is-reginald-hargreeves-dead-now Follow

21/03/2019

YES, HE'S DEAD NOW!!!

938,649 notes

🤲health-and-goodness Follow

RIP Sir Reginald Hargreeves

🌄chanceschances Follow

HA, no

FUCK Reginald Hargreeves, all my homies HATE Reginald Hargreeves

256,803 notes

🏰study-hall-monitor Follow

Wait, how old is Reginald Hargreeves? Did he not age? Seriously, look at this photo from 2002 and look at this photo from this year

🦕dino-nuggiez Follow

If you were on Facebook, they'd say he was a lizard person

🐊florida-shaped-being Follow

Fortunately, we're on Tumblr

Which means that people will say he's a crab person

🎃helloqueen Follow

🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

🍁chaos-is-my-peanutbutter Follow

You fools

OBVIOUSLY he's an alien

👾codey-for-everyone Follow

Wait. Omg. It makes sense!

It would also explain their powers, think about it!

You're an absolute genius, I can't believe no one has ever thought about that before!

🍁chaos-is-my-peanutbutter Follow

Lmao I think you're taking this too seriously buddy

🖍️memecent-van-go Follow

You are ALL wrong

He is actually created in a lab by the government and they said he "died" to surprise us with the biggest April Fool's prank in the history of mankind next week

498,737 notes

🪩 traumallama Follow

Congratulations to all the Hargreeves siblings, I am very happy for you. May you lead a very peaceful and cheerful life now that your dickhead father is gone

🌌 jupiters-moons Follow

🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

🌨️ twirlingandwhirling Follow

I just feel bad for The Séance. Wouldn't like to have my abusive dad following me around

👥 lurkeringlurrlurr Follow

By that logic his dead brother, The Horror, would also be following him around

🌌 jupiters-moons Follow

Their names are Klaus and Ben.

🚵 rolly-molly Follow

Can we go back to The Séance thing? I mean, his power is that he can see ghosts iirc, who is to say he can't see Ben? (Also, seriously, The Horror? That must be so bad for a child)

👥 lurkeringlurrlurr Follow

Sure, I guess it wouldn't be impossible

But if *I* had my dead brother following me around all the time, I think I'd lose my sanity

9,734 notes

🪷sweet-sweet-sweeter Follow

Why Reginald Hargreeves kinda hot ngl

🥐food-up-with-this-croissant Follow

Dude, he JUST died

🪷sweet-sweet-sweeter Follow

What? I like old guys!

🌾crying-in-bed Follow

Tumblr user not simping over a white rich dude challenge: FAILED ❌

👾codey-for-everyone Follow

Also he's probably an alien

🪷sweet-sweet-sweeter Follow

Even better for the monsterfuckers

🐍nessiesmuse Follow

The monsterfuckers don't want him either

💟singthissong Follow

Abi, I say this as your friend, your mutual...

Get a better taste in men

🪷sweet-sweet-sweeter Follow

Maybe when I can afford rent, food and bills with one job I will

5,679 notes

☂️brellies-fan Follow

Is that Number Five, aka, The Boy, the one who disappeared 17 years ago?! Why does he still look like 13!? What's happening?!

1,139,580 notes

[rabbitcyclops]

Headcanons Of the Curses!

Note: (I do believe curses have no concept of human gender constructs, I'm just going with what feels right)

Hanami 🌸 She/They

🌸 Favorite food: Hanami is a diverse taste in food, they'll try anything as long as it was sourced respectfully from the environment. Also, nothing with added chemicals or preservatives. I think they're a huge fan of dandelion tea! 🌸 Favorite music: Any LoFi with nature sounds or just straight up nature ambiance. She has a "Nature is the best playlist" mentality. 🌸 Hobbies: Of course, gardening is their main hobby, but I like to imagine they also like to learn about plants and meditate. Maybe they make zen gardens out of sand, too.

Mahito 🐇 He/ They/ It

🐇 Favorite food: I'd expect something bitter and savory. Definitely some strange foods like black ice cream! If you let Mahito into the kitchen it'll make something cursed like a cake with frosting and crab legs (T-T) 🐇 Favorite music: I look at Mahito and he gives me HUGE breakcore fan vibes, something about the distortions of sounds and almost chaotic beats is really perfect. 🐇 Hobbies: Reading ofc, I think he'd like drawing too. Mahi is also a huge people watcher.

Dagon 🐙 He/ She/ They

🐙 Favorite food: Big appreciator of all things seafood, as one would expect, but I have a feeling he also really likes stuff like Gelato and Sorbet! Also, a huge fan of dried crispy seaweed! 🐙 Favorite music: I know this is very specific, but I think Dagon would listen to chill french music, like songs with very soft vocals and dream-like instrumentals. I wish I could link an example of what I mean, but I can't seem to find a good song. 🐙 Hobbies: Dagon is the type to collect seashells! They and Hanami also hang out a lot, so he also learns quite a bit of gardening. She just chills out a lot, it's nice.

Jogo 🌋 He/ They

🌋 Favorite food: Jogo's the type to love some spicy food! But I think he secretly enjoys sweet foods a lot too, like lava cake and ice cream. He steals a bit of Hanami's tea once in a while, too. 🌋 Favorite music: This is me projecting, but I think he'd like Japanese Rockabilly, if he wasn't too stubborn to refuse to listen to human music. I feel like it fits with his whole "delinquent with a golden heart" thing he has going on. 🌋 Hobbies: Jogo doesn't have a lot of hobbies, he likes collecting cursed objects and weapons and likes to organize them neatly!

Thank you for reading~