#dome male reader

[minaj-estyyy]

Imagine accidentally edging bakugo when really he was too embarrassed to let you make him come 😭.

Jerking him off till his head falls back, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. He’d quickly reach up to stop the movement, wrapping his hand around yours. Lowk edging himself…

So you’d continue to edge him throughout the night, rubbing him, sucking him, fucking him… and when he got to close you’d wrap your fingers around his balls to ruin it for him.

“Fucking.. cut it out! Ngh…!”

Why would you? This is what he wanted in the first place was it not?? But you had to stop being mean at some point so you finally gave in.

Listening to him explain how his goal in the first place was to not let you make him come, and then thinking back on the way he was crying to finish pissed you off, so next time y’all get active he WILL be shooting blanks.

At this point I’m a bakugo fan page 🙂‍↕️

[childof-stars]

OSCAAARR!!

Can I request an Oscar x other big cat being (where it can be any) (gn). And y’know how cats are with grooming, I imagine the reader has a scent of another person that Oscar doesn’t like and just grooms them until it’s gone.

(soggy wet cat /aff)

Back again with Oscar! YIPPIE!

I had just gotten back from the Nitro drome, it already being pretty late, Oscar usually goes with me, but he had some work to catch up on

I pull in into classy courts Oscar Outside smoking

"Hey, what did we say about quitting?"

"I know"

He says, then takes one more puff and throws it on the ground putting it out

"Now come on, it's getting late" I say as we both enter inside

I head into the Living room, after taking a shower, "FINALLY! Movie night~!", I say as jump onto the couch right next to him, only receiving a nod in response

*One amazing time skip later*

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, but it's a minute before he responds

"You Stink."

"... I JUST TOOK A SHOWER"

"No. I mean you stink of other people."

"... oh- DUH, you wanna cuddle then?"

"I have... a different idea"

And before I know it, I'm in his lap being groomed, "Ow! Must you be so rough!", "Yes."

And after a about 10 minutes and almost falling asleep, i suddenly find myself under him, nuzzling into me, "Much better"

Please forgive on how long this took and it being so short 😭

[knightyoomyoui]

Perfect Night [+18]

ft. LE SSERAFIM's Yunjin (x M Reader)

NOTE: First fic of my 2025 comeback and marks as a beginning of my new masterlist! SUMMARY: YN and Yunjin both won an award in a Korean music award show. Coincidentally, it happens in the same day as their anniversary. They went home for an indoor date as a celebration. After the date, Yunjin doesn’t want it to be over yet so she requested one last thing for them to have fun and make their night even more perfect. REQUESTED BY: @dav1233555

WORD COUNT: 3100+ (told yall the 2k max for normal request plan still depends lol) DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

The artists and their respective fans that filled up the Mizuzo Paypay Dome in Fukuoka, Japan has their ears and eyes all glued to the presenters of the awards for tonight’s 39th Golden Disc award show.

The two presenters were standing in the middle of the stage, the trophy in their hand, as well as their microphone to announce the winner of the category set to be awarded next to that deserving artist.

All of the nominees were shown in the screen, each earning different levels of cheers from their fans who made it in the attendance. After the familiar faces made an appearance, the presenters have been given a cue now to speak. “And now, the 39th Golden Disc Awards for the Best Group goes to…” the host flips the cover of the card to view the name. He pursed his head forward onto the mic and revealed: “LE SSERAFIM!” The blended sound of cheers and applause echoed around the dome. The camera then pans to the five members of the group that was mentioned all have the glee in faces hearing the name they represent called out for an overwhelming reward to their hardwork. They all rise up to their seats, lined up as they walk through the stage while being guided by the staffs of the show. As they made it, the hosts greeted and congratulated them for an another accomplishment in their career. Amongst the crowd watching, there’s you at one of the VIP tables along with other fellow artists eyeing with sincere support and happiness for that group, especially to that one particular woman who did the honor of receiving the award and came up to the front to begin the acceptance speech. Hearing your girlfriend, Huh Yunjin’s voice blasting through the speakers as she stated out her utmost gratitude for everyone who made it possible for them to bag an award tonight was music to your ears. There’s nothing more you can’t be easily get tired of listening than Yunjin in a bright mood when you know she can easily make your day as well. “Thank you so much to our FEARNOTS who voted for us and never stopped being on our side, appreciating our music everytime we do one. We will also continue to do our best on entertaining you guys, We love you!” Yunjin waves the trophy in the air as she was joined by her other co-members on shouting the last line. Before they leave the stage, Yunjin saw you clapping your hands and gave you a wink. You grinned wider and mouthed “I love you too” on her in response to what she said. It earned a blush from her when she understood it.

Another minutes of a performance from other artists have passed and now it was time for another announcement of winner in a category. This time, it was for the Most Popular Male Artist. It warms your heart hearing their cheers from some of your fans after seeing your face being one of the nominees. Whether you win an award or not, it didn’t matter for you anyway, as having a fanbase of your own already meant that you have become successful in your music career.

“For the 39th Golden Disc Awards’ Most Popular Male Artist, please come up to the stage:” “Yeah there’s no way I would be-”

“Song Y/N!” “Oh, wait what?”The spotlights, cameras, and people’s attention were all directed in a snap at your spot, looking confused and astounded. You weren’t expecting that this night wouldn’t be just a normal music show event you’ll be attending again, but there was something more for you to experience. You stood up and went to the stage. The emcees Cha Eunwoo and Moon Gayoung approached and shook hands with you before they handed you the award. As you stood on the platform, you took a deep breathe as you prepare your speech for the night. As you were there pouring out words that came straight from your heart, you were staring at Yunjin who is looking at you proudly. Her dazzling eyes and soft smile at you keeping you composed and more confident that you truly did deserve this award just as much as hers. “To my fans who keeps on reminding me that all my efforts I’ve been giving to my songs were always worth it, this one for each and every single one of you. We did it guys, thank you so much!” You bowed and waved to the public before you made your exit with joy.

After the show ended, both you and Yunjin excused yourselves to your managers and to her co-members that they’ll be meeting each other for tonight. They accepted since they are already the reason why. The reason that is related to your current private relationship with Yunjin. As Yunjin sneaks through the backstage with the help of her manager and some bodyguards, she then met you waiting at the parking lot. She dashes through you and you accepted her hug with open arms. “I’ll take it from here, thanks noona.” “Yeah enjoy your night, you two.” She greeted and waved away. As the manager brought the bodyguards along, Yunjin separated from you and glances straight through your eyes. “Look at you hotshot, winning an award as well huh.” she teased, patting you in the chest. “Yeah I didn’t see that coming. Thought its SEVENTEEN or others as well since they’ve been kinda trending all over social media too.” you responded humbly. “Probably you got back against them through streams and other criterias that lacked, I guess.” Yunjin shrugged. “But hey, there’s no doubt that whether you won or not, being considered for that award is already a big deal.”

Yunjin takes out her own trophy and clangs it at yours. “It’s just so happens that you were the lucky one to be chosen. Or should I say, WE?” “Congrats to us, love.” you kissed her on the lips. “There you go, savor the feeling of victory.” Yunjin said amusedly. “Let’s go home now. I want to get out of here, please.”

“Excited are we?” “More than you think. Well can you blame me? We’re about to turn our date into a double celebration.” She opened the door of your car and hopped in. “Damn right it is.” Both of you buckled up your seatbelts and you drove yourselves all the way to your apartment in Seoul. Reaching your room, you and Yunjin took off your shoes and placed your other belongings on the couch. “How about you go cook our dinner and I go prep up the table for us?” You originally planned to do all of this on your own and have her take a breather for a while as she rests because you don’t want to tire her more, but then again it made sense since this day is actually for the both of you and after you heard her enthusiasm earlier, you just allowed her initiation to join you on making this night special.  “That’s sounds good, let’s do it.”

You quickly went to the kitchen, prepare all the ingredients and cook the chosen food you wanted for the both of you that fits tonight’s occasion. Yunjin on the other hand was busy covering the tables with new cloth, arrange the plates and utensils, and and some bit of romantic element around the dining place.

Yunjin can’t help but to be shook and amazed that you were literally taking this seriously with the candles and rose petals you told to her to design with. Right when she created a lovely ambience, you have now served all the foods on the table.

Removing your apron and straightening the crumpled surfaces across her dress, both of you faced each other and looked at the satisfying result of your combined efforts to make your indoor date successful.

“Oh, be right back for a sec, I’ll just gonna grab something.” 

“Sure, I’ll wait.”

Yunjin watched you head through your bedroom. Her eyes widened when she heard the door open wide again and unveiled your standing figure holding a bouquet full of her favorite flowers in your arms.

“Oh my… YN, they look so pretty!  And these are- wow, did you seriously went with an effort of buying this for me?” she asked, with her hands on her agaped mouth.You responded with a chuckle before flashing a boastful smile.

“How could I forget? Happy 2nd anniversary to us.” Yunjin smiled. 

“Shall we begin our celebration with a toast?” She chuckled before nodding her head. Yunjin then dropped the flowers on the couch and gratefully accepted you gentlemen act of offering the seat to her.

As you sat, you reached for the wineglass, opened the bottle and poured each pair before raising it together with her.

“To our love and success.”

“And for many to come and last longer.”

“Cheers?”

You collided your glass gently on Yunjin’s before drinking the alcohol.

An hour has passed filled with your exchange of stories, laughters, and clanging sounds from your plates. You were already full and Yunjin was just emptying the bottle of wine.

“I think we had it all for today, huh.” You said. “Yeah, having an indoor date for the first wasn’t so bad after all then.” Yunjin shared her pleased reception for your decision. “Told you I can make everything wonderful just for my girl.” You squished her blushing cheeks. I’ll go to change now, babe. I want to sleep-”

“Already?” She interrupted you, snapping her head to your direction.

“Why? You haven’t had enough.”

“Nooo, I’m not through yet.” Yunjin pouted. “I still want to do one more thing.”

“Seems like you’re drunk now, babe. You really having fun, aren’t you?”

“Why, don’t you feel the same?” She playfully sulked. You walked beside her and pushed her head against your midsection, combing her hair.

“Stupid, ofcourse I’m not. I can’t get enough of you anytime.”

“You sure about that?”

“Mmmhhmm. What, do you want me to prove it to you or something?”

“What if I am?” She looked up at you. You saw the aura in her face changed into something seducive. Her hand began to rub through your shirt before her fingertips bump at your lowest button. “And I want you to show me in this way.”

“Would you do it with me? To make this night perfect?” She asked you breathily as she starts unbuttoning your buttons. With just a huff and a nod, Yunjin hastily then moved her hands toward your belt.

She unfastened it and opened your pants before she pulled it down. The outline of your hardened shaft laying diagonally against your left thigh made her bite her lower lips.

“That’s why you suck at lying sometimes, babe. Your words ain’t as honest as your body when you’re close to me.”

Yunjin slightly pushed you away for her to have some space as she knelt down before you. Cupping the bulge that charms her intoxicated self, she playfully squeezed it through the prison fabric before hooking her fingers at the waistband. “Mhm I love how huge and stiff it gets because it’s mine~”

That one swift move of Yunjin made you bare naked from below, especially your cock springing out from its confinement, pointing at her in which she giggled at how cute it reacts because of her despite of its dominating size.

Yunjin took ahold of your hardened shaft from the base and rained your entire length with kisses and licks up through the head. She finds your skin following her grasp as she strokes you up and down, edging you for a minute by releasing it and watching it twitch for her.

“Fuck, Yunjin. J-just get through it, please.”

Yunjin smirked, feeling an inch of pity for you. She fortunately followed, lifting your cock and sniffing its musky scent before directing it to her mouth and began sucking you. 

You released a huge sigh and placed your hand to her skull, petting and guiding her through your cock as she slurps your appendage inside her warm mouth. Her puckered lips crossing through the foreskin gets you gritting your teeth in sensation..

Based from your relaxed expression, your heaving breaths and trembling hands in her head, Yunjin can tell that she’s doing well with her oral performance, so she proceeded on coating your cock with her saliva, gliding her tongue through every inch.

You looked down and shivered, matching Yunjin’s stare at you while she gives you an amazing blowjob. She’s now sucking the half of your shaft with her fist pumping on the other. She released with a popping sound and sighed, gulping while she continues on jacking you off.

“Shit, Yunjin I’m about to-”

“You’re close?” Yunjin got alerted. “Give it all. In my mouth.”

You nodded. Yunjin returns your slimy cock on her mouth and did a series of deepthroats at you this time as you help her by pushing your hips. Each attempts awakens your senses more with the choruses of her gag reflex absence.

“Fuck… fuck, Yunjin I’m cumming.” You said. Both of your hands are now gripping on Yunjin’s hair. Few more pushes through her face, you felt a streak of hot spunk emerge from your tip straight onto her throat.

You kept her gaped mouth around the thickness of your meat for a second before slowly sliding her off and giving her a chance to breathe heavily. She then swallowed your load and licked some of your pre-cum in her fingers as well as some drops in your tip by tapping it onto her tongue.

“So yummy. That was a lot of a dessert.” Yunjin was impressed. “But I’m sure you still got more left in here, don’t you?” She cupped your balls and massaged it.

“Oh yes I am… and you can have it as much as you want, babe.” Confirming that you’re liking where is this going, you helped her to stand up and pulled her through your bedroom. You finally take off your coat and polo as Yunjin goes to pounce at your neck, giving you some hickeys to remember your heated session for tonight’s date once you woke up tomorrow.

You went through her thighs up to her ass, feeling the panties covering its smooth skin. She yelped at your touch before you stole a kiss again on her lips. Your hands went to the front to get a brush on her soaked slit.

Yunjin whimpered to your mouth. In return, she grabs your semi-erect cock and pumps it back to life. You lift off the hem of her dress and throw it aside, the red laced bra shielding her small mounds became evident at you.

Pushing your idol girlfriend to the bed, you bundled her skirt around her waist and tugged her panties down. Witnessing her dripping cunt, you didn’t want to waste the syrupy liquid so you went with a long slurp of her pussy three times until the juices partly stop.

Yunjin mewled at the feeling of your face against her ass and your talented mouth on the sacred cavern where it rightfully belongs. You kissed each of her asscheeks before slapping them in preparation for what you’re about to do after.

Pushing your now awakened cock again, this time to her tight inviting asshole. It slowly accepted your length, Yunjin shuddered at your cock invading her insides slowly but dangerously. She gripped on to the bedsheets as she noticed her body now rocking with yours as you hump onto her ass, skin to skip slapping playing across the room.

“Fuck, go harder! Shit, oh god how I’ve missed this so much!” Yunjin shouted, acknowledging the longing memory of the last time you and her did this before the long scheduling conflicts affected both of your sexual life.

You used the bundled skirt and her waist as a handle as you continously ravage her plump ass. 

“You’re so fucking tight, babe. I might not hold on any longer!” 

“And you’re too big! Fffuck I’m going first!” Yunjin elicited one last loud “ugh!” before you felt your thighs being showered with her squirt as you still played with her clit for stimulation.

You pulled Yunjin’s upper body, unwrap her bra which you threw aside like nothing, and grope her bare tits from behind. She kissed you to the side while she rubs her rear into your cock.

You decided to switch positions, with you now laying on the bed and Yunjin still buried within your dick, her sexy toned back faced towards you. She ain’t no dumb to miss the point of where it’s about to go, she then began to bounce slowly at your lap as you watched her fulfill her desire.

“Shit, that’s fucking hot, babe. Goddamn.” You sweared watching your baddie girlfriend twerk her voluptous ass against your crotch. Meanwhile, Yunjin is now eyes shut with horny evidence within her face doing what she loves.

A couple of adjustments of her thighs caged around yours as she rides you, she tries to stir your cock around her ass in different angles as possible while bouncing harshly before you decided to take the show to its end as you now about to reach your peak.

You catched Yunjin’s arm and spun her around to join you on the bed.She went close, you cuddled her and roughly pounded her from behind as you spent the last stamina you have in store to make this stunning woman of yours filled to the brim.

She goes along with your mouth, while you grope her breasts and fingered her fast to boost her stimulation. Yunjin moaned loudly at the pleasant effect of your manhood and digits taking control of stretching her innards.

“Oh god don’t stop, don’t stop! Fuckkk mmhmmm yes yes yes ahhh YN I’m cumming!”

Bump after bump after bump relentlessly to her abused ass, you grunted as you released another large load deep inside of her while she squirted another into your hands, staining the bed.

You helped her ride out her orgasm as you slowly withdrew your active fingers through her pussy along with few more curves. Slicked with her love juices, you slurped and gave Yunjin a taste of her own resolution also.

Slipping your limp cock into her ass, Yunjin holds your arm cuddling around her exhausted body as both of you rest from your activity. She gritted in satisfaction as she felt some of your cum escaping through her used hole, making a trail through her cheek down to the sheets.

“What a perfect night we have.” Yunjin said with a smile of satisfaction. She may have not looked at you, but the firm squeeze she did within your grasp made you feel its sincerity more. “I love you so much,YN.”

“I love you as well, Yunjin. More than you know.” You swept off some sweat and loose strands of her hair away from her beautiful face then smooched her on the crown before falling asleep together with her by your side.

[ateliersss]

Bandaids and Kisses

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: One part of motherhood seemed to be patching up your reckless pup after another adventure in the wild against his parents’ wishes. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 2.885 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ Hello, you Yautja lovers. With this, we are going back in time, before the happenings of the "Blooming Family" series. I hope you enjoy it! Comments are always appreciated!

⇨ You want to know something hilarious? A Yautja in their early twenties is the equivalent of a human in its 50's/60's, so Akail as a ten-year-old Yautja would be a minus something human baby.

"Oh my God, Akail! Again?"

You were taken to Yautja Prime about fifty years ago, Life-mated to Mi'ytiar for forty years, and an accepted and established member of his clan for ten years now. Ten years, the same amount of time your son had walked, talked, and breathed. Ruling alongside your mate and hunting for food weren't enough to make your contribution. Giving Mi'ytiar a pup had apparently been the only thing that changed your role among them — from an outsider (and even a simple plaything for their leader to some) to what you were now — the female counterpart of a clan leader, the Matriarch.

You had heard of several Matriarchs on Yautja Prime. Like you, they were mated to the clan leader, but unlike you, they were the superior one in their dynamic and even above an Elder or Ancient. You wouldn't dare to assume the same form of authority for yourself and therefore kept to the secondary leading role just as a queen consort on Earth would. You had much more freedom and control than you could ask for, utterly content in the position you were holding right now, and you never felt the need to claim the power of a true Matriarch. The fact that the Females of the Yautja race were viewed much higher in leading roles than the Males was satisfying enough.

Nonetheless, you still had particular obligations and a certain appearance to maintain. You would take part in organizing the journey of the Un-Blooded to become Blooded, ensure the civilized coexistence within the clan by taking on the role of a judge like in court on Earth, approve of every newborn pup that was presented to you and deem them worthy, listen to their requests and suggestions and try to contribute as best as you could, and even had become a beacon of generosity and kindness to the clan for advice and consolation. The list went on and on, but instead of feeling crushed by the vast amount of responsibility, you relished in it. It was an honor, indeed.

Another thing that was expected of you was joining the elder Females in their den and listening to their wisdom with other younger Females. Rather than a bothersome duty you had to force yourself to attend, you absolutely loved their company.

And the den was a beautiful place you loved to spend your time in, a flawless merge between ancient architecture and the futuristic Yautja influence, round in shape and with a high dome-ish roof that was held together by a construct of pillars and beams into which hieroglyphs were carved. Fire was burning in the hollow beams and illuminated the room above the heads of everyone present.

A week of adjusting to your new life had gone by without leaving Mi'ytiar's home — your home the second you had crossed the threshold — before he decided it was time to introduce you to his people. And the place he had brought you to first was the den of the Elders. It had been a tough start, but they were surprisingly objective. Instead of seeing you for what you were, they saw you for who you were. Even if you were among giants, you had felt welcomed.

On this day and decades later, you had joined them as well, taking your place at the fire pit and opposite the entrance on the only chair in the round room. The Matriarch had her very own seat in the den, a throne-like construction made of something that felt like a mix of stone and metal. Meanwhile, the other Females sat on white stepstones on the mossy ground around the pit.

Matheih, the Female that held the unofficially highest rank among the Elders and had been the first you felt comfortable with, was just about to discuss the matter of a Bad Blood who had come too close to the clan's borders when you noticed movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head to the entrance and gasped.

Your shocked exclamation had cut Matheih off, causing her to startle. The rest of the Elders either looked at you or your son, who seemed to shrink under the intense eyes of the Females.

You immediately rose from your seat, the others following you swiftly, and you raced around them to Akail, who anxiously fiddled with the charm attached to his loin cloth.

One day, you had noticed the longing gaze of your pup fixed to his father's loin cloth and the trinkets and trophies swinging on his hips. Without further ado, you tailored him something new and decorated it with a thread on which various square stones and animal teeth were strung, the thread sewn into the front of the self-made cloth to the right hip. His eyes had been so bright when you presented it to him.

"Akail, my little warrior." You sighed when you reached your son, kneeling in front of him to be on the same level as him.

You cupped his cheeks and examined his face. There were several cuts across his face — two on his forehead, one under his right eye, and one above his left eye — and fluorescent green blood was smeared around his wounds and coated his mandibles. When you checked his dreads, running your fingers through the short tendrils, he winced.

"My sweetling, what happened?" You asked when you grabbed his hands and scanned his arms up and down.

"I follow a tochi." He mumbled and instantly avoided your stern glare.

A lie.

Placing your pointer and middle finger under his chin, you tilted his head up so he was looking into your eyes again.

"Were you near the borders again?" You pressed on and raised an eyebrow.

Akail pulled a grimace. "Yeah."

Another lie.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's dangerous?"

Akail looked down like a kicked puppy. "Sorry, Mama."

No. No, you were not allowed to melt right now. You needed to be strong and determined to be angry at him for disobeying one of your and his father's rules. You needed him to understand that running after an animal for the nth time and moving too far away from the clan's land was risky without someone by his side.

But those damn puppy eyes of his, the same look his father sometimes used on you, they made you weak and yielding.

"Come on." You softly smiled at him and stretched out a hand to him.

When you stood upright again, Akail wasted no time to grab your hand while his other arm wrapped around your leg, clinging to you. You turned to the Females, excused yourself, and apologized to Matheih for interrupting her before you and Akail left the den.

Hand in hand, you walked the short route to your home.

"Does it hurt, my sweetling?" You asked him when you entered the grounds of your home.

You whistled at Be'jaa who had started barking at the intruders, as well as the two other Hell Hounds Mi'ytiar owned, Vohtu and Gihn'tha, and signaled them that it was just you and to stand down.

"Not anymore, Mama." Akail vehemently shook his head, putting on a brave face.

You smiled down at him and led him inside, lifted him into your arms, and carried him to the long table that stood in the center of the main room of your home. Behind it and opposite the entrance door, three other doors lead deeper into your home to adjoining rooms like your bedroom. Just like the den of the elders, this room was round with a dome roof made out of orange and light grey glass, but there was at least a meter of additional ceiling going sideways from where the dome ended and from which a ring of rock was hanging down, like a huge ring-shaped lamp circling the whole room.

Just like a routine, you placed him down on the surface, kissed the little space between his nonexistent eyebrows, immediately eliciting a merry purr from him, and got the Medicomp that was stored in one of the box-drawers under the long shelves where your mate displayed his trophies.

You placed the Medicomp next to Akail on the table, sat down, and quickly got to work crushing the plaster and melting it with the burner, adding the blue solvent and mixing it until you got a gel.

"You know the drill, baby. It's going to hurt." You warned him, taking one of his hands into your free one before you started applying the gel to the thin cuts on his face.

Immediately, Akail let out a sharp hiss and squeezed your hand as hard as he could. But he remained still, not wanting to ruin your already careful treatment. His eyes danced across your face, admired the color of your eyes that was so different from his, studied your smooth skin that wasn't as rough or beige and green as his, scanned your mouth that wasn't hidden behind tusks.

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could even utter the first syllable of his question.

"Be honest with me, Akail. What happened? You don't just get wounds like that because you followed a tochi." You questioned him and placed the spatula to the side before you grabbed the cloth that you had added to the Medicomp and dabbed the blood away from his already healing cuts and his mandibles.

"Stumbled over a stone." He answered in a huff.

Another lie.

"I roll down a slope in a bush."

Lie, lie, lie.

You hummed. "The bad ones near the Stonehenge? I told you to stay away from there. Those statues are unstable and you aren't yet strong enough to withstand their weight should one fall down on you."

"Sorry, Mama." Akail muttered and pulled his head in as if it would help him to escape the shame your words caused him.

You were melting once again at the sincerity in his words and reassurance washed over you. You may have had no idea how to raise a child as you never had the opportunity of doing it before, but you must be doing something right when he was capable of realizing his mistakes and showing remorse. But it wasn't the kind of remorse you were thinking of.

"It's alright, my sweetling. And you did so well in keeping still for me. You were very brave." You cooed and kissed first the healing cuts on his forehead before you turned to the ones at his eyes.

But he wasn't. If he was as brave as you claimed, he would tell you that it wasn't the thorns of the bushes overgrowing the Stonehenge but the still-developing claws of the older Younglings making fun of you that had caused the wounds. Akail had tried very, very hard to ignore their teasing and provoking snides, but when one of them — the tallest of all people — started talking about how glad he was that his mother was a respectable Female of the tribe and not some foreign, lowly pet that warmed the nest of the clan leader and probably pleased any other Male on the side, little Akail saw only red.

He had jumped the older Youngling and bit down on his neck while his claws inflicted as much damage as they were capable of. But due to his smaller size and frail strength, this advantage was turned against him in the next second when he felt his face being scratched open and his back colliding with the ground when he was pushed off by the older boy.

Luckily, before the situation could escalate even more, two Blooded Yautja neared the small group and Akail used the opportunity to quickly stand up and hurry to the den of the Elders where he knew his mother was.

It hadn't been the first time and it will probably not be the last time, but he had promised himself to always protect you from anything that could crush your beautiful heart and kind soul that had shown him unconditional love from the moment he had opened his eyes to take his first-ever look at his mother. It had been blurry and unfocused, but he remembered your smile. That smile.

"Mama?" Akail asked as he watched you packing up the Medicomp.

"Mhm?" You hummed and lowered yourself onto one of the chairs around the table right in front of him.

Instantly, Akail reached for your shiny hair and started fiddling with it, feeling how soft and silky it was. When he was a toddler, he would often play with it while purring, not being able to speak yet but his sweet chatter combined with his wide eyes was enough for you to be reminded how much he was his father's son. Both were enamored, maybe even slightly obsessed with your human features.

Akail huffed. "Why you not look like me?"

"Hm?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the topic of his sudden question.

"Why you look like this? Why not like me or Papa?" He pushed further and curled a lock of your hair around his pointer finger.

"My sweetling." You cooed, lifted him up by his waist, and settled him down on your lap, his legs dangling from each side of your thighs. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your chest, close to your throat. "Do you remember the bedtime stories I sometimes tell you?"

You only felt vibrations against your skin and you took that as an answer, a cue to continue, "When I was little like you, your grandmama sat next to my bed and told me the same ones."

Akail pulled his face from your chest and lifted his head to look up at you. "Grandmama?"

I nod. "Yeah. Mama's mama." You cupped his little face and peppered it with kisses. "Those stories are from the place I was born. Earth."

"Are there more looking like you?"

"Yes. Many like me. Earth is similar to home. There are villages all over the planet and they speak different tongues, too. They have a clan leader called a major or a president and they have warriors, but also normal people who work jobs or go to school."

"What is job?" Akail asked curiously and cocked his head to the side.

"A job is something oomans do to earn a living, to build a life. It is a little different here. For example, with a job, you can earn money and buy food, but here, you just go into the forest and hunt. With a job, you can also build a house, but here, you just do it yourself with the resources this planet has to offer." You explained with a soft smile.

"What a ooman?"

"It's what I am, my little warrior. Mama is ooman, a human. That's why I look so different than you or your Papa."

"But why I don't look more like you?" Akail asked and his adorable face became even more precious when he pulled it into a frown.

You hummed as if you were in thought before you put on a bright grin and started to tickle his sides. "Because I wanted someone unique and extraordinary, and I hoped for someone who is as handsome and strong and chivalrous as your Papa. And speaking of your Papa, he was determined to have a pup like you, my sweetling."

Mi'ytiar had been very determined indeed that his DNA took root inside you. It also hadn't been the only thing that had completely dominated you.

"I know I'm not as big and strong and pretty as the other mothers-"

"You more pretty!"

"What?" You asked with raised eyebrows at his offended tone.

"You more pretty! More pretty than other mothers, more pretty than other Females! Say you more pretty!" Akail protested, immediately standing up for you even against your own words.

You had to swallow your emotions during his short rant. This boy had your heart, so precious and pure, and your emotional intelligence, already developed so far for his young age. You had no idea you were able to create something so beautiful and unique.

"I'm more pretty." You repeated his words with a smile, petting the top of his head, and kissed his forehead one, two, three times. "Why don't you go and look for Papa, hm? I bet he loves to teach you a little something about leadership."

Akail climbed down from your lap with a click of his mandibles and was already running out of your home. You had followed him, a little slower than the hazardous speed of his, and leaned with your shoulder against the entrance as you watched him in amusement.

You had hated the thought of becoming a mother. You had hated the thought of how children would affect your health and body. You had hated the thought of giving up your freedom for them. You had hated the thought of limiting your own life to adapt to theirs. You had hated the thought of abandoning every hope you had felt, every plan you had made, and every dream you had envisioned to tend to each of their needs.

God, never had you been happier to be wrong.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

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[obsessivevoidkitten]

Animal Farm: Mondays

Male Yandere Harpies x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, harpies, general yandere behavior, captive reader, spit roasting, cum in hair, aftercare, male harem, brief mention of being used as a cock sleeve by bull men.) Word Count: 500 (Here it is! I have had a solid wave of productivity lately answering old asks and now there is this, something I said I would do a long time ago. I said I would make a mini-fic/drabble with every group of monster men from my animal farm fic which can be found HERE.)

You sighed. It was early on Monday morning, the sun starting to stream into the window enough to disturb your sleep. You glared at your alarm clock and preemptively turned off the alarm that would go off at 10:00. It was 9:53. You wanted to cry. You had not fully recovered from Rory, Sev, and Bruc swapping you between them as a communal cock sleeve all day on Friday. You lamented your decision to be a monster man farmer with so many different species. You should have stuck to one or two. Oh well… no use crying over it now. At least you started the week off easy after your weekend break. The harpy men had pretty forgiving cocks. Ugh. Was that what it had come to? Judging how not awful your day was by the brutality of the cocks you were about to encounter? You scarfed down a quick breakfast then enjoyed your last few minutes before you were swarmed by the three harpies that called your farm home, Zan, Xilra, and Elry. They all looked similar, green and blue feathers in their hair, emerald green eyes to match, dark skin, with large angel-like wings sprouting from their backs and their legs ended in the way any bird of prey’s did. Sharp. Talons. When you stepped into the aviary your watch read exactly 10:30, you weren’t giving them a second more than you were forced to. It was like your one shred of resistance, even though it didn’t really matter very much. You also were too scared to be late after what happened the one time you were. You were sniffed out and fucked. Swiftly. As soon as you stepped into the large greenhouse-like domed building, it was like a miniature forest complete with all sorts of trees and plants, you were instantly pounced upon by the three monster men. They wasted not a single second in taking off your clothes and tossing them aside on the dirt while pinning you to the wall. “Hey come on! Those were just cleeeEEEEAAAAAANNNED. H-hey!” Two of them were biting, licking and nuzzling all over your neck while the third was using his mouth between your legs. “W-w-why do we always have to start the d-daaaay like thiiiiis??” “We love you little starling~” “Yes! And we must show you!” “We haven’t been inside you for a whole week love! It was torture~” “We must make up for the lost time sweet bird.” And that they certainly did. A week's worth of the pent up libidos of three tall harpy men unloaded on you and in you within hours. They spit roast you while you were on the ground before taking you in mid air. By the end of their breeding session with you you were exhausted. And this was supposed to be the easy day. At least they let you rest afterwards, washing the cum out of your hair and off your sore body before cuddling you and petting you while they sang sweet little bird songs and praised their darling little starling~

[yaut-jaknowit]

Thinking about 'Galactic order brides' lol

Starts off as messages, pictures then meeting and marriage? Me full of giggles thinking about some bad ass yautja male who's highly respected but wants a soft little human to warm his bed and have his pups. (A dream 🩷)

Strangers

Pairings: T'a'yta (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 8674

Summary: With T’a’yta, reader was recommended by a friend to contact him. It started off small. Messages. Then it turned to pictures and facetime, then finally meeting. When you meet him, he’s thick and hulking beast. For such a big creature, he was soft.

Author Note: Okay, I may have a bit more indulgent on my end. I hope that’s okay! I really loved this idea even though I’ve never read those books before.

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

Ao3

In an office job, nothing much happens. You are used to the ins and outs that happen every single day. It’s always the same old, same old thing. You crave for something different, a different scene in your life. Then, the opportunity came.

Ze’se heard about your cry for help, this need for something or… someone in your life. Anything for a change.

“Oh, tots, he’s a doll. Super sweet. A lovable hunk, I promise you that, love,” Ze’se raves about and sends the contact information to you. She has her wrist flopped over in front of you with a knowing look on her alien features. The Yautja was a dark yellow, like spicy mustard. “He’ll see you and wanna take you home in an instant. A lot of the folks that I know wanna. But I know he will take care of you.”

A bright smile eased your features. “Thanks, Ze. I owe you one.” You greatly appreciated her help. Without her, a lot of things in your life wouldn’t be where they are right now.

The towering female Yautja barked a laugh then pulled you flush into her torso with a single hand. “Nah, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a thing. You deserve happiness and a hunk like himself will give you plenty. You know the whole shebang with how males woo us females. I have to fight them off of you when you come visit me.” Heat rushed to your cheeks. She lets you go. Your head is craned further back to find her dark green eyes.

You couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes and a huff. It seemed that way when you would visit her on her mothership. A lot of the males did look at you, nearly oogling you from a safe distance away. Ze’se didn’t let you walk the ship alone. There is controversy about oomans still within some clans. Unfortunately, hers included. That didn’t stop you from making great friends with her.

Some of those males look at you some sort of meat. You were thankful Ze’se always meets you at the docking entrance. If you want to go somewhere, she’s attached to your hip.

“Is he part of your clan?” you asked, needing to know if he was like many of her clanmates. Meaning, to be mindful of how to act around him. You trusted her and knew she wouldn’t put you in harms way. That didn’t stop you from being cautious and mindful at the same time. It wouldn’t hurt. Yautjas and oomans will forever have their differences.

She shook her massive, dome head. “Nope. I know him from a hunt a few years back. Kept in contact with him since then. If I was looking for a permanent mate, he would be first on my list. A recently turned elder. Plenty of scars.” She wiggled her brows at you. “Big muscles. Sweet talker. Great in bed.” At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Your eyes jumped open. “That male knows how to please, let me tell you that.”

A groan left your throat as you pushed away from her. The dark mustard yellow Yautja laughed and snorted. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. Mostly. But like I was saying. Great male. He’s got lots of good offspring. High on the pole. His name is well out there, even on Yautja Prime. If you want to be cared for and pampered, I can see him taking that roll. I should know.” You dragged a hand down your heated face. God, this woman was going to be the death of you.

This is what you loved about your relationship with Ze’se, the easy going with her. “Okay, okay! I understand. He knows how to fuck. I get it!” Another groan. She giggled again and pushed against your shoulder.

“You’ll know soon enough. He’ll… oh, what’s that saying? Wine and dine you to the fullest before he’ll-“ You reached up and clamped your hands over her moving mandibles. Anything to get her to stop talking about sex! Right in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Ze! I sweat to everything unholy. Please, I get it. He’s good. I got it. I think everyone on this street knows how good he is!” you scold her and while pleading with her to stop talking about that. Some heads turned your way but they all kept going their own path. Thankfully.

Both of her upper mandible quirked up. “Eheh, good. I’m glad. You have the info. I’ll get out of your hair and let you have some special time with him.” She rubbed her temple against yours. You smiled at the gesture and watched her spin on her heel. Ze’se struts away from you, hips swaying with each step. It gathered a lot of attention from the surrounding people. A move you knew was purposeful.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn around as well. The day was getting late. After a long day of work, all you wanted was to go home and rest. The resting would have to wait. You would shoot this new Yautja a text before falling asleep. In the morning, you get to see what his response is. You really hoped Ze’se was right about this guy. There has been something missing from your life. Maybe it was someone special, that’s all you need.

Once the front door was closed and locked, shoes came off. Your keys were hung up on the rack. The warm atmosphere of your apartment greeted you like any other day. You strolled in and head towards your bedroom for a change of clothes.

Your work clothes had been replaced with a comfortable pair of shorts and a oversized shirt. Then, you collapsed onto the bed, arms spread wide. Today had been eventful. Not only from Ze’se, but from the amount of work they put onto you. Ze’se, bless her heart, has tried countless times to get you to come onto the mothership with her. Become a hunter like herself. But, you liked your room, your job, the comfort of humanness. There’s none of that on their ships or even their home planet.

It's always kill or be killed. You weren’t about that life.

But… with the way that Ze’se explicitly talked about T’a’yta, he was different. To pamper you? God, you could only wish for that. For a man to kneel before you was a wish come true. You really hoped he was somewhat like that. Not like the other ravenous males you’ve seen up close and personal. Far too many time to count.

You took out your phone and stared at the few notifications on the screen. Nothing of importance. Ze’se had sent his contact number. You saved it as a contact then went to the section to message.

And that’s where you faltered. You didn’t know how to start the message. Oh my god, you didn’t know how to text a random guy! Were you this hopeless?! You thumped your head against the bed with a groan. It had to be simple. Introduce yourself, ask about the weather, tell him stuff.

Yeah… you were hopeless.

An entire hour passes by. Text box was empty. You’ve tried to type out quirky greetings, polite ones, even just a simple introduction and who gave you his number. Each time, you’s quickly gone back. The main reason you think you’re struggling was you didn’t know him. You didn’t know his personality. If he likes funny jokes or something serious. All you got was his name and how well he was in bed.

A sigh of defeat left you. How could you advocate for yourself? How can you even put yourself out there for him? Male Yautjas like a confident female? All the females know their worth is high. They strut their stuff. And here you were, mauling over how to send a greeting to him.

In frustration, you thumped the edge of your phone against your forehead. You took in a few deep breaths before typing out a simple introduction and that Ze’se gave you his number. Then, you told him you were interested in getting to know him. You sent it. No regrets. You swallowed hard. Okay, maybe a little regret.

Before you could get overwhelmed, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up. You jolted out of your thoughts to look at the screen. T’a’yta had messaged back. Holy shit, that was quick.

“It’s good to finally hear from you. Ze’se has not stopped talking about you. I, too, would be interested to getting to know you,” T’a’yta messaged. You flipped onto your stomach and squealed, legs kicking the bed. This was finally your chance. With the phone, you could have tons of confidence compared to in personal.

From there, the two of you texted far into the night. Despite the knowledge of having work in the morning, you continued to text. This was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. A hunk of a Yautja to bend over backwards for your needs. Okay, that sounds bad. All you want is to be cared for. Is that a bad thing?

Right off the bat, the two of you were chatting. You started off by talking about your hobbies. What you liked to do in your free time. You hoped it interested him. The hobbies maybe boring but they made up you. What made it all the better was him digging further into those said hobbies. He wanted to know more about. He wanted to find out what made you tick from the inside out. You were giddy like a school kid with their crush. But after so long without a lick of luck in this vast universe, you could say you were desperate. Could you be blamed though?

When it came to his turn about hobbies, he didn’t jump straight in the stereotypical hunting for Yautjas. You felt a little bad about thinking he would only talk about that.

One of his favorites was watching nature. That seem similar to hunting. But, he appreciates nature at his core. He maybe a hunter but he is more than a trophy hunter. Another thing he enjoys doing is visiting museums, mainly human museums. He wants to know more about humans – or oomans. T’a’yta likes history. He likes learning. Even in his older age, he acts like a sponge. There is no one who knows everything. There is always something to be learned. Even to the ancients in his cultural.

You glanced at the time and gasped. There was only four hours before you had to report back to work. That meant less than three hours for sleep. Worst of all, you didn’t to stop. The talking, er messaging, had gone so well. You felt bad when you texted him you had to go to bed. Or else you might lose your job in the morning.

That’s when you got to see a glimpse of what Ze’se was referring to this entire time.

“If you lose your job, you can always come and stay with me.” My god. The butterflies in your stomach went wild. Ze’se maybe crazy but, you glad she wasn’t lying about his innuendos.

Of course, you had to fire back with something of the same line. “Is that an offer?” If he was already willing to take care of you right from the get-go, you were falling in love. He’s such a sweet talker.

 “I would love to take care of such an adorable thing such as yourself.” He was so cheeky! Your cheeks were heated with the fire that raced through your veins. Your thumbs shook, unable to type out a message quick enough. “Have I flustered the sweet, little human?” A shaky breath passed your dry, cracked lips. You were in it now.

It’s like he could see through the screen and read your expressions. You lowered your head and pressed it against the screen for a moment.

When your phone buzzed again, you lifted up your head, eyes snapping open at the message. “Paya, I wish I could see the look on your face. Since you can’t answer me. You clearly are a fluster mess. I would love to know what my words could do to you in person.” You may have never heard his voice before but you knew that last part was meant as a growl.

Still, you didn’t know the proper response was. The time above the messages screaming at you to go to bed. You ran a hand through your hair before finally finding words. “Maybe one day we can. I’d be more than happy to see the effect too. Good night!” The phone was tossed off to the side. You screamed into the mattress and kicked the bed.

That was a cringy way to end the conversation, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. The texting should’ve kept you safe, a nice façade since he can’t see you. Clearly, that had failed. He still got to you.

Now, you were more desperate to talk to him. There wasn’t time left in the night though. With one more glance at your phone, you got settled down in bed to get whatever sleep you could make up.

For a few weeks after that, every moment you had free, the two of you texted each other. Fleeting seconds while at work to pull out your phone and shoot a message back to him. Anything to keep him on the hook. You were really liking him so far. All green flags.

On one night, you became a little risky. For the occasion, you decided to dress up. You put on all the gimmicks to look as presentable as possible. The best clothing was pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on. A little dolling up had you picture perfect.

In front of a mirror, you put on a small pose with a smile to brighten your features. The picture was snapped. You were swift to send it to him before you could decide to back out. From there, you sat down on the couch, still dressed up, and played on your phone.

It was less than a minute when you got a response back. “By Paya’s name, you looked wonderful, little one.” You squealed and loudly cheered to yourself for getting another win. Both of your fists pumped into the air. It was working. You were actually getting a guy to be interested with you. And, he was staying interested in you.

“I think it’s your turn.” And boy, aren’t you glad you asked for a picture of him in return.

You must have caught him in the middle of hunt. The fact he was letting himself be distracted by you while hunting was another thing you’ll think about later. He took it from an angle looking down at himself. Condensation built up on his dusty brown scales. He looked to be panting, mandibles flared wider to allow the extra air into his lungs. Like any other Yautja, he was built strong. But, like Ze’se had mentioned, he was bulky, a hunk of muscles. He could easily lift you up.

Your bottom lip was caught between your dull teeth. The taste of blood flared on your tastebuds but you didn’t care. Your eyes roamed over the picture far too many times to be respectful. This made you no better than a dog on the street. But, you couldn’t help it. There was something about him both physically and mentally that you were heavily attracted to. This only solidified it more.

Plenty of scars lined his scales. Stories of past hunts that always lead to his triumph of not meeting their god of death. You bite your lip harder.

“Seems like I caught you in the middle of something.” You couldn’t believe the courage to make an innuendo to this man!

Conversations and pictures like this continued on as well. Three weeks passed of friendly talk and some talk of hidden messages. Neither of you coming out to say it straight to the other’s face. A little dance the two of you enjoyed happily.

It was him who offered it. He wanted to finally meet you in person. For someone who was rarely around other Yautjas besides Ze’se, you were nervous. There wasn’t a way to hide behind your phone this time. You couldn’t dance around this. It was bound to happen. You knew it.

So, you swallowed down your nerves and said yes. The meeting place became a little shop a few blocks away from your apartment. Close to comfort. Anything to give you the confidence you needed to face him. It wasn’t a game to you. Far from it. But, you could play a good façade over the phone. When it came to meeting someone personally, it was… that’s where your courage goes right out the window.

When the day came, your nerves were jittering your entire body. It was hard to stand still in front of the mirror to see if your outfit looked perfect. It had to be perfect. You needed to be perfect. This is where everything could go wrong. You card a hand through your hair then glanced down at your phone.

About five minutes were left before you had to go out that door and meet him face to face. There was no backing out of this now. You made a deal, a promise to go there. With a deep breath to fill your lungs, you marched out the front door early. It was best to be early than late. Who knows if there’s traffic. Plus, you can pick out the seat you want in the small restaurant. That way, you can look professional.

The streets of the city you lived in weren’t the best. Every corner you took wide and carefully watched your back. Once you made it to the safety of the restaurant, you find the place empty of patrons. There are a few employees meandering around though. Your brows furrowed at the sight. This place was busy everything time you tried to come here. T’a’yta said he would make the reservation for the two of you. But this was strange.

Someone noticed your entrance and came up to you with a smile. He said your name in a questioning tone. You dipped your head, unsure of the whole situation. “Follow me,” said the host. He didn’t take a menu with him and began to walk away. You were timid to shadow him before scampering after him like a scared puppy.

The restaurant wasn’t fancy by any means but it was still nice. On the inside, every chair and seat all besides one had been shoved to the side. The lights had been lowered to a romantic setting. Flowers and balloons were decorated the space. You stopped in your tracks and took in the area. It was more than anything that anyone has done for you. Did… oh my god. T’a’yta did this for you! Your jaw dropped. You looked like an fearful, cornered animal. What kind of Yautja was he?

Ze’se said his name was up there on the totem pole but… you weren’t expecting this! He had to have bought out the entire space. That had to cost at least a thousand dollars. Did he seriously have that kind of money to fork over? All for you too.

The call of your name snapped you from your scrambled thoughts. You shook your head and looked over at the source.

In the middle of the room was a lone table and two chairs. One chair was already occupied by the familiar sight of T’a’yta. Despite being feet away from you, he was still a massive form that easily consumed the chair. A smirk graced his handsome features. He gracefully stood from his seat and walked around it.

By god’s grace. When he got close to you, he towered over you as the average height of a Yautja. You reached his midriff and had to tilt your head back to find those bright eyes. They glowed lightly in the dark, nearly a beacon to find the alien.

Your heart thundered loudly in your chest. It was on the verge of leaping out and landing straight into his hands. The sound was so loud to yourself, he had to hear it himself. You swallowed hard and pulled on a brave smile. T’a’yta offered a single hand to you, palm facing up. You gingerly placed your own into his and watched the way it was consumed. He’s massive.

T’a’yta eyes you for a second longer before gently leading you towards the table. With no other option, you let him guide you. The dusty brown Yautja pulls out the chair for you. You glance at him for barely a heartbeat before taking a seat. He easily pushes you in then returns to his own seat. Your tongue darts out to lick at your dried lips.

The Yautja is dressed in somewhat normal clothing. He’s not in full blown hunter gear, something you had thought about him being in. A sight you’ve seen a few times already from the pictures of him he’s sent. His clothing seemed to be meant for celebrations or gatherings. Causal clothing. The type Ze’se would be seen wearing as well.

And he looked good in it.

Both of your hands were placed in your lap, head slightly tilted down. Being in his presences was a one-eighty from causally talking to him over the phone and messages. There was no hiding from that piercing gaze he roamed over your form.

A chuff came from the male. He laxed back in the too small of chair that squeaked under the shift of weight. “There is no reason to be tense, my dear.” If it wasn’t for your locked muscles, your jaw would’ve dropped at the deep rumble of his voice. You already knew Yautjas voices, no matter the sex, were a low timbre. His though, was thick as honey and drew you in instantly.

He didn’t miss the way your breath hitched when he spoke, the way your eyes twitched slightly more open. One of his upper mandible quirked up. You noticed the move and swallowed down the lump in your throat. A deep breath was pulled into your lungs.

“S-so, I not-tice the place is-is empty,” you attempted to start off the conversation for the night. T’a’yta stayed in his relaxed position, head tilted off to the side. He watched you lazily with an adored look in those vibrant eyes of his.

His head dipped down. “Yeah. Did that myself. I didn’t want us to be interrupted by anyone. I wanted to see you all alone.” Words that shouldn’t been a red flag by anyone else but the way he says in that voice of his. It made it sound like he was wanting to protect you from prying eyes. He wanted you safe.

That meant you were right. He had bought out the place for the night. How could this man have that kind of cash lying around? Who did Ze’se set you up with? A millionaire? Did she seriously think you could pull someone like that? A small and frail human in the presence of a Yautja. Humans were ninety-nine percent of the time seen as such to these massive hunters of the universe. That included yourself.

Maybe you really had gone way over your head.

Your hands played with each other, hidden underneath the table. It helped you from the rest of your body from fidgeting and letting him know how much of a mess you were. The way his eyes narrowed slightly already told you he knew.

“That m-must have been a-a lot.” If he wasn’t in front of you, you would’ve smacked yourself silly for such a stupid comment. This is why you preferred texting. It allowed you to think of the words before they came spilling from your lips.

He chuckled. A deep, timbre sound falling from his alien mouth. His hips shifted. Your heartrate picked up again. The sight was enticing. He brushes off the comment with a flick of his hand. “It was nothing. I’m glad we get to finally meet in person. I’ve been waiting to catch your scent.” After being around Ze’se for some time, you’ve learned that scent to a Yautja was important. You didn’t take it in a weird way. Instead, you simply nodded your head. With the change of subject as well, you were thankful. There wasn’t a chance you could fully steer this ship without his aid.

“Y-yeah, me too-too. Not the scent part!” You were quick to cover that. “Humans don’t do that. But, I don’t find it weird. I know it’s a thing for Yautjas. I’m fine with it!” Oh my god, the word vomit that came spilling from your loose lips. Worst of all, you hadn’t even had any alcohol in your system. Here you were, acting like a complete fool. You wished for the floor to open and swallow you hole.

Heat blazed to life on your cheeks. You groaned and covered your face with your hand, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. “I’m so sorry.” That’s all you can say to cover up your failure.

The chair groans under his shift of weight. The table dips slightly in his direction. You felt the heat of his palm cupping your jaw. Another hand wrapped thick digits around your wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled your hand loose, but you found every other surface in the place more interesting. There was without a doubt you had ruined this first meeting with him.

A soft purr-like sound came from his massive bulk. You weren’t expecting it. Your eyes flickering up in surprise for a moment. The second they met his though, they were back down to the ground or the table or your lap. The purr increased in volume. It vibrated the air and sent tingles racing up your arms. It was a powerful weapon against you.

All of your tense muscles began to loosen as if he commanded it. Both of your arms rested on the table. He gently held up your head and gave a soft tug towards him. Your gaze found his again. But, you didn’t look away.

“There’s that sweet, little ooman I’ve been wanting to see,” he cooed to you and kept your attention on him. T’a’yta was a master at calming you down from the height of your embarrassment. “Keep those lovely eyes of yours on me. I want to see every expression you make, little one.” You melted against his touch and let yourself be nearly controlled by him. All you could do was dumbly nod.

“Good, such a good ooman. Now, I want you to pick out anything on the menu. Anything you want. I don’t care the price or whatever.” Your tongue darted out lick at your lips before nodding again. T’a’yta hummed and paused for a second before letting go of your chin. You leaned back to a normal sitting position, eyes still on him. The dust colored Yautja smirked then gestured at the menu.

That shook you back to your normal mindset. Your face felt like it was on fire. The way you had just melted at the velvet of his words and soft touches. You took the opportunity to glance at the menu. His gaze had done the same. Relief flooded your system afterwards.

There were only a handful of times you’ve been here over the years. One, it was hard to get in due to how busy. Two, your limited time with your job. Three, a lot of the items on here weren’t something an office worker could easily afford. You came here when all three of those things lined up. That’s once a in blue moon. But now, he was offering you anything on the menu. Including the most expensive steak you’ve ever seen before. Not that you go out very often.

Who was he? A question that kept popping up throughout his whole interaction with him.

As you grazed the menu, your eyes kept flickering up to look at him. The darker lighting gave him an aura that was nearly scary. Yet, there was something deep inside of you that knew this man would never, in a million or trillion years, harm you in any sort of the way.

Money may no be an issue but you didn’t want to seem like a gold digger. The reason you chose this place was because had lined up perfectly. You could pay for your regular meal. Yet, it seemed like he was more than willing to cover every cost.

There was a nagging thought in the back of your mind though. Surely, you weren’t going to make him pay for your food. You liked it when things were equal to the best of everyone’s abilities.

To play it safe, you decided on a simple salad. Plus, eating healthy was a good thing too.

The menu was set down onto the table again. In time for a waiter to come to the table with a pen and paper. “Hello! Welcome to our establishment. And many thanks to you sir T’a’yta for this. We appreciate your company!” He’s cheery with a bright smile on his face while talking to the dust colored Yautja across from you. “Is there anything I could start the two of off with?” The waiter glances between the two of you.

T’a’yta gestures for you to start off. Suddenly, you feel on the hot seat all over again. You bite at your tongue, eyes flickering down to find the drinks. Pepsi products. You tell him what kind of soda you are wanting then peered at T’a’yta. The Yautja had a brow arched.

“You are more than welcome to appetizers. Like I said, you can get anything you want. My treat.” Seriously, you should take his word and go out. There was that same nagging idea in the back of your head that prevented you. You shake your head and busied yourself with looking at the menu for the moment.

His eyes were still on you for a few beating seconds as he ordered his own drink. “Bring every appetizer you have as well.” Your head jerked up, eyes snapping wide. He did not!

The waiter’s own eyes showed off the whites of them. There had to be about ten appetizers. T’a’yta just ordered all of them!

“It will take some time for the cooks to prepare that big of an order. If that’s alright with you?” he asked the gentlemen across from you. A lax look was plastered to T’a’yta’s features. Like the time or the price was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were glued to your fidgeting, surprised form. His inner jaw muscle tightened to hold back his need for action.

“Yes, I understand.” T’a’yta doesn’t care. He’s polite to the worker though. Jesus Christ. You were starting to regret this whole meeting at a semi-fancy restaurant. What if he expects you to pay the bill after he rents the place out? It would take a small loan to pay all of this off. No, you wouldn’t take a bite. All you were having was your salad. Cheap and healthy. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a gold digger or a slob for junk food. Not that you pig yourself out on them, but you still have them as snacks.

With one more look at T’a’yta, the waiter takes his leave with the notes of drinks and thoughts of every appetizer on his mind.

Once he retreated to the back part of the building, you leaned forward. “I’m honestly fine! I-I don’t need to eat that much,” you argued with the hunk of muscles. He laughed from his throat and rested an elbow on the table before leaning forward. T’a’yta placed his chin in his palm.

“If you won’t let me spoil you the way I want, I will do it myself. I’m a Yautja of my word. Eat, get, ask for anything you want. I will get it for you.” Is this normal for a Yautja? You knew the males like to woo the females with trophies and prowess. Since you were human, it was different. Clearly, he had done his research and changed tactics to get the same results.

You let out a shuttering breath and sat up straight. Once more, your gaze dropped to the table. The tips of your ears burned. Your lips were pressed into a tight line for the time it took you to maul over your thoughts. “Fine. Only a little. I’ll only have a little,” you relented to his forwardness. When he wanted something, he got it by the looks of it. Man, was he stubborn in ways you weren’t expecting.

That same smirk returned to his smug features. “Good. I’m glad to see you’ve come to reason, little one.” T’a’yta picks up his head and lets both of his arms rest on the table, one resting on top of the other. “Now, how was your day? I hoped this morning’s weather wasn’t dab on your mood.”

It shocked you a little. You didn’t expect him to know this morning’s weather. From what you know, he lives on his own ship and traverses the universe, loner style. Maybe he had come to check out the city before coming here for dinner.

At the same time, you were thankful for a change of subject. Something to ease you back into a comfortable atmosphere.

“It was good.“ You nodded your head. “I only had to run a couple of errands this morning.” From there, the two of you talked about whatever you could get your minds on. Day-to-day stuff from this last week, even to his latest hunts and the skull he brought back. He showed you the latest scar that said creature had given him. It was small but had nicked an artery. T’a’yta could’ve died.

Thirty minutes passed before three waiters showed up at your table. One had pushed together two other tables to yours and gave amble room for every plate. A few small extra plates were given to you. Then, they were off back towards the kitchen.

Eleven appetizers. There was more than enough for a family of twenty to enjoy. Yet, there was only the two of you.

T’a’yta didn’t move and kept his eyes on you. “Go on and enjoy, little one. Do not be shy.” He returned to his lax position and decided to take in the space finally in your presence. You were thankful not to have his overbearing, all seeing gaze on you.

Everything before you looked so good. You hungered for it all. Yet, again. That same thought. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek while carefully plucking pickings from a few plates. Not even half of the small plate had been filled. That’s when his gaze returned to you. T’a’yta gave you a deadpanned look and positioned himself to sit up.

Deadly, sharp, black claws plucked some sort meat off of an appetizer and offered it to you. He held it directly in front of your mouth. You nearly shrunk away before opening your mouth and taking the meat between your teeth. Once it was gone, he swiped a thumb along your bottom and wiped the cooked chicken juices along the soft skin. It forced you to lick away the excess. “Good, good. How did that taste?” His tone was teasing, nearly taunting you.

You swallowed the piece down after chewing. “Um, it’s-it’s good. I like it,” you answered truthfully and looked at him with timid eyes. The giant hummed then picked up a different appetizer that you hadn’t placed on your plate. Once more, he brushed the piece against your lips and coaxed you into eating it as well.

This continued to happen until every single plate had been tried from. He was satisfied then. T’a’yta used a napkin to wipe his fingers cleaned and made his own plate up. You were slightly dazed and watched him without much of a thought in your head. He grinned.

“How was everything?” His deep voice brought you out of your thoughts. You blinked away the haze and truly looked at him this time.

“Amazing. Their food is always phenomenal!” you explained with a happy alit tone to your voice. A hum tumbled from his chest. T’a’yta takes his own bite.

“I do have to agree. This is very good.” A few more pieces are thrown into his mouth. You were used to the way Yautjas eat with their lack of lips. “Is this place your favorite restaurant to go to?” he questions once the last bite was swallowed.

Your head nodded. “Yeah, when I can visit that is.” Some more of the food on your plate was consumed. Today was pure luck to get the day off from work. Your work rarely likes to give time off. Despite that fact, it was decent pay. All the necessary things were paid for. Which meant you had nothing to complain about.

The Yautja paused and looked at you. “And what’s stopping you?” A sip from what looked to be an expensive drink tilted his head back slightly. Yet, his eyes didn’t find something else. “This place is great.”

That’s a statement you could get behind of. “Well, it is.” Your hands became animated with every word you said. “But, I’m a hard worker. What time I do have, I don’t like to spend it waiting in long lines for a seat here. I didn’t even think you would be able to get a reservation here when you had asked for a place to meet up at.” Those were truthful words. Since the universe had been kind enough to let you find a man such as himself, you had tested your luck. It came evident there was more than meets the eye with T’a’yta.

His mandibles tighten over his inner jaw. “Are you happy you were able to visit the place?”

“Yes, I am. I’m beyond thankful for this opportunity. I didn’t say it before but thank you.” You smiled softly at him and reached across the table to grab his hand. His warmth was a stark difference compared to your own body. He would make to be a perfect heater in the dead of a Montana winter. He squeezed your fingers back in the same gesture.

“There is no thanks needed. I’m glad to have met you and have this opportunity to do this,” he spoke in a low tone,

Before either of you could speak again, the waiter came back. “Are we ready for the main courses?” he questioned and got out his pen and paper again. This time, he didn’t seem as ready to write things done.

“We are.” T’a’yta looked at you again to start off the process. Oh, shit. Right. You let go of his hand to tilt the menu up towards your face.

You cleared your throat and gaze up at the waiter. “I’ll just have the house salad.” Despite his constant reassurance to get whatever you wanted, you still went with the cheapest thing. You couldn’t stop from peeking at T’a’yta. Another deadpanned look was plastered to his alien features. He blinked at you slowly then pointed down to the menu.

“Don’t make me order the entire menu, little one.” You made a small, high pitch squeak at the hidden warning. Clearly, he wasn’t joking around. You huffed and placed the sheet back down on the table.

“Sorry, scratch that. I would like the salmon please.” T’a’yta grunted his approval at the change.

“Hm, for myself…” he trailed off and let his gaze roamed the page. “I’ll go for the steak, the special soup, and some pasta. I’ll let you choose what type. Oh, and bring some Moscato, please.” The waiter scratched everything down on his paper then grabbed the menus from you. Then, he was gone, scampering to the back of the house.

A quiet scoff left your lips. “There was no need for that,” you pouted and crossed your arms. T’a’yta laughed in amusement at the sight before him. His hand reached out to pinch your chin between his thump and pointer finger.

The alien held you there for a breath’s moment. “Yes, there is. I will show you there is no need to shy away from letting me spoil you. I crave to show you that I can take care of you. Such a sweet, little ooman in my grasp.” That’s when you tucked your head to the side, embarrassment flooding your system. He hummed again but let you be.

All of the appetizers were pulled away to make room for the incoming plates of dinner. The same waiter from before dropped off the ordered plates. Your salmon looked delicious sitting in front of you. Steam was wafting off the slab of meat.

“Aren’t you glad you got that instead of a meek salad?” T’a’yta teased you with a smug glint in those bright eyes of his. You bristled at his words and pressed your lips into a tight line. He may be right but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of your agreement. He can’t blame you for being nervous. Who wouldn’t be in your shoes?

Only a shrug was your answer. You dug into the salmon and attempted to savor the wonderful flavor that burst to live over your taste buds. This had to be the best salmon in your entire life. A hum left you while you smiled happily. Yeah, he was right. He knew it as well. Smug little dick. You kept your gaze down casted to the plate in front of you the entire time.

From the edge of your vision, you watched him eat his own three plates of food he ordered. At least he wasn’t shoving any of those down your throat the same way he was with the appetizers. Not that he was in the wrong. You did want an appetizer but felt like you shouldn’t. T’a’yta showed you he didn’t care. Not one bit.

This time around, there wasn’t any trouble. He consumed his three platefuls while you ate your own without his assistance like the first time.

The entire plate was finished off. You sat back a little and sipped at the wine he had shoved your way. Another pointed look in your direction. Again, he’s not afraid to show his cards and what he can do. It wasn’t abusive or wrong or a bad way of forceful. Actually, it was sweet. He wanted you well fed and dined in a romantic, caring manner.

Wined and dined.

Exact words Ze’se had used earlier. How right she was.

T’a’yta had consumed his portion as well and relaxed back into the creaking seat. You were still surprised it was holding up to his massive size. The muscles that lined his body thick from years of training and hunting. His own hand dwarfing a wine cup filled halfway with the red liquid. The same wine you sipped as well. You weren’t a wine drinker by any means but it was delicious nevertheless.

When the waiter came over to clear the plates, T’a’yta handed his card then whispered something to him. The poor man’s widened and flickered down to the Yautja. He rapidly nodded his head and thanked T’a’yta. Then, his sped nearly doubled. Everything was pulled away and left the table with just your glasses.

A short purr poured from T’a’yta’s throat. A mechanism you learned quickly helped calm your racing heart all over again. He smirked when you leaned back into the seat. The Yautja himself rested his elbows on the table. “How was that, little ooman? Did it meet your expectations?” The purring stopped but it already had done its job.

In a slightly dazed mindset, you nodded your head. “Uhuh. Lots. This place is the best,” you reiterated your likeness of the place and took another sip of your wine. You’ve never been pampered like this in your life. This man, this male had treated you better than any man, woman, or person ever. “I’m glad you agreed to this place.”

“I could care less about the meeting place. Money isn’t a problem. What matters is if you had a good time and you’re full.” He leaned in over the table to enter your space. “I won’t tolerate you trying to skimp out of on eating. In my presences, eat what you want until you’re full, alright? I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Shit, he really was pulling out the whole wooing thing that male Yautjas do. But he had changed to woo a human instead.

“But-“ you raised your finger to argue with him. The Yautja narrowed his eyes on you, mandibles pulling tight over his mouth. Immediately, you pressed your lips tightly together and looked down at the dark wood of the table.

He grunted then rose to his feet. Right as you were about to follow suit, he walks around and pulls out your seat. A hand is offered to you. You take it and let him guide you to your feet as well. This was another reminder of how large he was compared to you. He easily towered over your human form. You couldn’t help the bite on your lower lip, eyes roaming up and down his figure for only a moment.

“Shall we?” T’a’yta motions towards the door in a grand gesture. You giggled and nodded your head. The argument leaving your system.

The two of you go to the front of the building. The waiter from before was there and finishing up the transaction just in time. He looks a little nervous before handing back the card and receipt. Your curiosity got the better of you. You attempted to peer at the numbers on the receipt but T’a’yta was quicker and smarter than you. The paper and card are tucked away in one of his pockets. You two bid the waiter a goodbye and head out into the slightly chilly air.

T’a’yta gingerly curls his arm around your shoulder and tugged you close to the warmth of his body. You sighed in content at the feeling. He rumbled his amusement, thumb rubbing against your shoulder.

One thing you noticed on the way back. For a city that’s dangerous at night, not one person gave you a second glance. Many didn’t even look either of you in the eye. The dust colored Yautja kept at your pace the entire time. He was glued to your side.

It only happened once but someone had walked a little close to the two of you, nearly shoulder to should with you. A threatening growl erupted from the elder’s throat. Thundering and powerful. A warning to get away from what he possesses. You could moan as the sound traveled down south and sat in the pit of your belly. You had to hear that more.

Your key fits into the door of your apartment. T’a’yta is at your back, guarding you from the dangers that may appear at a moment’s notice. You don’t mind. Actually, you welcome the comfort and protection. It hasn’t been something you felt in a long time. You craved the need as much as water for a dehydrated person at the sight of an oasis.

The door opened with a welcoming squeak and let him see what conditions you lived it. It wasn’t bad. It was an apartment that was well lived in though. A slight mess but that’s what made it home.

“Well, this is it.” You had spun around to tilt your head back to look the male in those bright eyes of his. They were gorgeous to the point you could get lost in them. You timidly played with your hands between the two of you. “I-I appreciate everything today. It was an amazing date. And-and if you… want, we could go on another?” It was you who had taken the responsibility to offer up a second date. “I’ll pay for it next time.” Of course you had to. It was your turn.

A growl left his towering frame. Not a threat like before but an easy warning. T’a’yta stepped into your space which forced you to take one back. This happened two more times before he crowded you against the closet door at the entrance of the apartment. A whimper fell from your softly parted lips.

One hand rested above your head while the other gripped your chin. The touch forced your head back. This close and personal with T’a’yta allowed you to see all the tiny details of his face. A face of an elder who’s fought his battles and won his wars. A life well lived. The Yautja who began to purr, tongue flickering out to taste the air.

“I had a wonderful time myself, little one. But, if you think I’d ever let you pay for a single thing while on a date, you had me wrong from the beginning.” The course pad of his thumb dragged across your lip. Your tongue darted out and lapped once at the sharp talon on the tip. His grip tightened nearly painfully. “Paya, it’s taken every single ounce of will to hold back. You are perfect. The little ooman who I’ve been needing to have.”

“Someone to warm my bed and bare my pups in my olden age. I’m letting you know now of my wants. If you don’t wish to continue, tell me now. I will disengage. But… if you give me every right, all the power. I will make it my duty that you will never have to lift a finger again. And the only time you’ll break a sweat is when I breed you and you give birth. Any other time, you will be pampered like royalty,” he promised to you directly.

Your breath got caught. His words. They were so dark, so beautifully crafted. He wasn’t afraid to state his wants. There was no dancing around the bush. T’a’yta was a Yautja would knew what he wanted in his life.

That want was you. The perfect human to bed with, make his royal partner and treat them as such. He growled and inched closer. “Answer me, little one.”

The lump in your throat was swallowed down. “Yes, I want that too.”

Relief sagged his shoulders. He nearly dropped his weight against you. Instead, he buried his mouth into the crook of your neck and took in the source of your scent. “I’m beyond glad you agree. It would be hard to rid my mind of every little thing I love about you. I will cherish you the way you deserve.” T’a’yta pulled away to find your gaze once more. “But I will do this the ooman way. I have the patience of a seasoned hunt. I can take my time and win you over in the manner you’re most comfortable in.”

If there was anyway to love this male anymore, you would find the way. He was beyond respectful of you and letting you have all the control in the world. This was just your first face-to-face meeting with him. This was how he was acting in the first place? Call it too soon, but you were already in love with him. There wasn’t a single red flag you could find throughout the whole getting to know him process.

For the first time, you reached up and cupped his jaw in your hands. The texture of his scales wasn’t rough or scratchy, yet there was a clear difference between the two of you. A difference that didn’t matter to you.

You may not be the same species, but love will always find a way.

[mihii-i]

https://www.tumblr.com/k0yaz/758473618729615360/arlecchino-x-married-man-reader-please-oh-wait

Pause- this gave me a vision

Good Luck, Babe! by C.R lyric angst fic Arlecchino x Reader 😼

With happy ending tho 🔫

Like Reader married some mf from the male species when her and Arl were younger (18-20) because she was in denial abt her feelings for Arl and married him as a ‘f u, I totally love men’ but even after a few years Arlecchino can still tell she’s MISERABLE

Wait- double the angst and make Reader someone who’s known for being smart, powerful and just super cool in general but her husband is constantly trying to make her be seen as just his wife and never acknowledges any of the amazing things she does ☹️

I told you so.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, modern au, angst, comphet, more than usual swearing, girls kissing bro why is this even a warning it’s obvi, sexism, misogyny, bad husband ewwww, arle’s real name used at the very beginning, mentions of ugly ass guy inappropriately touching without consent ew, arguing, mild violence, fluff at end, not proofread.

A/N: needed to desperately write this my girlkisser ass is in code red rn cause of my parents 💀‼️ ALSO I DONT LIKE HOW THIS CAME OUT IT SUCKS 🕯️

“I don’t! I could never be into girls, Peruere!”

Back flush to the roughened couch, your aching body stretched backwards into a domed arch as your arms flailed out for leverage. Those words you had so foolishly uttered all those years ago echoed over and over in your brain like a broken record, clouding your mind like a plaguing guilt weighing down every waking moment of your life that followed. You let out a defeated sigh, the exhale dragging out longer than it should have to the point where you felt as if your own breath had tickled your lower lip. The small rush of air…it reminded you of when you felt Arlecchino’s breath gently caress the side of your face as her lips hovered over your cheek, her looming frame inching closer and closer to you as you reciprocated.

Everything. Everything reminded you of her.

The crimson lipstick resting atop the bedside table, the intoxicating scent of the perfume she always used to wear—being inhaled so deeply by you to the point where it tickled the tightened crevices of your throat. You’d spray a little on your pillows often as well, the dizzying smell with a hint of fresh roses accompanying the comfort it burned into you, and helping you fall asleep often. After all, sleeping turned into more of a hobby whenever you found yourself sharing a bed with the said “man of your dreams.”

His weight bundled onto the side of the bed situated beside you only sent a pit of sickness bubbling up within you, teeth gritting as you would lay on your side. The silky pillows enveloped your head as your nightgown loosely covered your body, hand slipped below the side of your head as you faced away from your husband. Sleeping with that man was nothing short of a clawing nightmare. Every damn night, you’d uncomfortably writhe within the blankets draped over your shoulders as you silently prayed for him to fall asleep as soon as possible, the wait getting so awful over all these years that you’d always count the digital clock situated atop the bedside table next to your head.

10:01…10:02..10:03..10:04. Finally.

The earliest he’d slept was 10:04. Giving you enough time to get lost in your maelstrom of guilt and ambiguous thoughts piled up within you.

The dotted red glow of the broken numbers displayed on the clock beside you illuminated the corner of your face dimly, eyelids low as you mindlessly gazed at the smooth wood of the table your head almost shifted onto after nearly falling off the pillow. Archons. You fucking miss her. You miss Arlecchino so much it hurts. You wish that you didn’t marry this awful, entitled man child just to prove a point that only consisted of you placing another mask of suffering upon yourself to conceal your truth. A mask that was cracked and easy to see through anyway. His irritating snores continued to buzz along the vicinity of the room, sounding more like a rumbling growl shaking the bed to be frank.

You hated him, to put it simply. You only married him to prove that you couldn’t fall in love with a girl. He was the one that was at the other end of the table with his chin resting on his hand as he gazed at you in a covetous manner, cocky grin pasted onto his vile face. The was the first suitor you thought would accommodate to your delusion.

“(Name) will you marry me?”

Each syllable hung in the air for an extended in a way that made you want to choke, blood rushing to every part of your body to seep into your sunken heart. With a stiff nod, your shaky hand slowly inched forward palm down, veins protruding along the tightened flesh as you fought the urge to hold it back and prevent him from grasping it. Swallowing back a sob, your bottom lip quivered between your teeth as his rugged hand dragged along your skin, tainting it with his unkempt, rough touch. Heads of goosebumps blistered along your hand as the freezing metal circled your ring finger tightly, suffocating your finger between the tight ring like a corset. He didn’t even bother to affirm your size. But you knew full well that she would’ve made sure that ring slipped seamlessly in perfect fit.

The gyrating ceiling fan above you whirled in rapid motions as the cool breeze emitted from it brushed along your skin, all the way up to fluffing your hair. Your eyes remained lifessly tracing the swift afterimages of the fan as you lounged on the couch, not minding your husband’s exasperated complaints piling up one after another with each venomous word he spoke.

“(Name). I told you to make me dinner when I got home from work, so where the hell is it? I’m fucking starving over here you good for nothing whore!”

Your brows furrowed together at his degrading words, face scrunching up with prominent wrinkles of irritation adorning your features. Upper body carefully elevating off the arm of the couch, you brought your palm to your forehead, before pinching the bridge of your nose with a sharp inhale. Silence swallowed the room from your lack of response to his insolent remarks and insults, only cut through by his heavy breathing vibrating against his throat. Clearing your throat finally, you were able to articulate your words in the small window of time you had before he could cut your off once more. Even the mere scratch of clearing your throat felt relieving once he ceased to speak, feeling as if there was a pass way of freedom which released you from the cage of his grasp.

“I’m exhausted. Cook your own dinner, I physically and emotionally can’t do this right now.” You replied coldly, collapsing back down onto the couch into your returned comfort as the fluffy cushions pressed flush against your spine. His face only contorted into anger, slightly reddened like an unstable child rather than a grown man. “You’re my wife. You’re supposed to cook for me! That’s your job not mine!” He bit back, hands folded over his chest and gaze staring daggers into your relaxed form.

Tilting your head over to his upright figure, you simply cocked an eyebrow, staring back at him with heavy lidded eyes as if he was just a mutt ordering you around.

“I’m not only your wife, you know. I’m my own person. I don’t have to cater to everything you want.”

“You know that you’re inferior to me. Ever since we got married that’s how it should’ve been! But no you had to go do your own little thing!”

“Then how should it be? Come on enlighten me.”

Your annoyance began elevating to a boiling point with each little thing he spat at you, every remark of inferiority made you fall further and further into a hole of sorrow and anger as he spoke each revolting “truth” about his twisted views. You couldn’t help but grasp the fabric of the cushion below you forcefully, wrinkling the fabric in every direction with your husband’s endless remarks spilling from his undignified lips.

“And once a woman is married to a man, they become his wife, and his wife only!”

Slamming a hand down onto the couch, you rose to your feet in one quick motion, glaring up at your husband’s wrinkled face of rage. Letting out a quick huff, you only took in the simmer of the broken air conditioner enveloping the silence once more as a means to tranquillize your boiling anger, breathing ragged as your heart rate skyrocketed from everything you bit back through the course of the argument.

“…I’m going to bed.”

“This early? I wanted a night with you (Na-)”

“You’re not fucking getting one.”

You winced slightly, hunching your shoulders as your skin grew hot from discomfort. Closing your eyes, you only braced yourself for the string of unending curses spewing from your husband’s mouth. Simply, you lowered your gaze as everything surrounding you was manually shut out. Mind enveloped in a pitch black void of emptiness, the only noise flicking at your cold ears being the unnerving ticks of a clock.

How much longer would you have to endure this?

The floorboards only sang out a ghastly creaking noise as you set your foot down upon each elevating slab of wood, the faint yet evident noise reminding you of the man below you having his eyes utterly fixated on your every move like a hawk eyeing its next catch. It was nothing short of disturbing and unsettling for you. Slowly, you made your way over to the entrance of your unfortunately shared bedroom, pushing open the heavy door with a fervent shove.

You couldn’t help but finally take in a deep breath as you flopped down onto the bed, body comfortably sinking into the plush of the silk mattress accommodating your exhausted self. Head still continuing to swirl with a wave of unresolved emotions, and a caged feeling confining to gnaw at you endlessly, you reached into your left pocket to whip your phone in front of your face. Rolling over onto your stomach, you thumbed aimlessly through the various contacts rowed out along your glowing screen, scrolling until you found the one you were looking for.

The contact you are calling does not exist.

Shit.

You just stared at Arlecchino’s inactive contact with deadpan, hopeless eyes, blinking twice to process it once more. You truly couldn’t reach her could you? Having lost all hope, you simply set aside your phone as it fell flat onto the wood with a knock, and you rolled yourself onto your back to combat the pure insanity of your fate enveloping you.

“I told you so.”

The already wrinkled bedsheets below you only bundled together further as you swayed onto your back and side alternately, holding the pillow up to your face with a muffled yell. Her words only continued to return to you with every moment you were awake, perhaps even in death your regret wouldn’t cease to eat away at you for locking yourself into this awful pact. Dim slivers of pale light brightened the left half of your face, glowing from the burning lamp on the table as you squinted upon the sudden flood of light blinding you.

The one thing you longed not to hear at this moment was your husband’s footsteps drawing closer and closer to the bedroom, heavily bellowing against the floorboards. Remaining on your side, your arm tightened slightly from the pressure of your torso cushioning it into the mattress, the mattress sinking deep upon your husband making his way beside you on the bed.

“(Name). Turn off that light.” He grumbled. The stinging odor of his excessive cologne only caused you to choke back a retch, gagging from the pungent smell assaulting your nostrils. You merely decided that he wasn’t worth any more trouble, and you remained too exhausted to even snap back at such a childish individual. Slowly, you reached over to clasp the handle of the switch, thumb fitted against the teardrop shaped steel of the end. For a moment you hesitated, gaze flickering behind you for a brief second—only to catch his eyes tracing your every move. In a sudden, burly voice, he cleared his throat to speak to you, tone remaining arrogant around you as if he had authority over you.

“Tomorrow we’re going to some big event with a few rich people here and there, nothing much. Dress nice tomorrow, we leave at 3 pm.”

You scoffed, squinting your eyes back at him while your body remained facing away. Of course. As always he goes and makes decisions for the both of you without even considering your words or plans.

“And you’re telling me this now?” You retorted, cocking an eyebrow while sharp breaths emanated from the man beside you, indicating his loss of patience. Not that he had any to begin with. “I can do what I want, bitch. Try not to embarrass me with your usual displays of arrogance, ‘kay, (Name)? There’s gonna be a couple rich people there.” Rolling your eyes, you only delivered a small nod in response, not wanting anymore trouble especially when you desperately needed some rest. “Yeah.”

Finally, your tugged down onto the cord of the lamp, the pale yellow light dimming and blowing out completely. Your husband was completely knocked out by the time you lowered yourself onto your side, facing away from him. Rumbling snores reverberated throughout the room, ringing in your ears repeatedly as you folded the edges of your pillow over either side of your head in an attempt to block out every noise.

It wasn’t too early in the morning, rather the darkness spread out within the frame of the window accompanied by the low glimmer of light outlining the moon suggested it was sometime in the middle of the night still. Deep quakes of breathing racked the vicinity the moment you took in your surroundings, alerting you awake altogether. Of course. It was him again. Letting out a subtle, quiet groan, you buried your face into your cupped palms, fingertips tracing along the flat of your forehead as you cloaked your face within your hands.

Was this all you were now? Nothing more than his trophy wife just like he wanted?

A light buzz from your phone lit up the device, making its glowing screen noticeable from the corner of your groggy eyes. You leaned over, inspecting the notification you had received so late at night. There was a single gray bar with the calendar icon in a box to the left of it, the lines: “Rich people dinner at 3” displayed along the margins of the bar. Great. Not only does he set notifications on your phone without asking, but he also doesn’t even formally address the dinner. You simply sighed, breath shaky as you constantly found yourself struggling to come to terms with your current reality clawing at you.

—

“(Name) come on! We’re gonna be late and the fancy pricks’ll look at us like we’re broke!”

You scrunched up your upon hearing him calling you like a barbarian, your dress halfway hitched up to make a few adjustments for a good fit. Loud bangs against the door only heightened your brewing annoyance, causing you to manually drown out his calls as another screeching white noise in the background. The silk of the dress tightly fitted your figure, framing every inch of you and hugging each blooming curve of your body. You hunched your shoulder forward, turning to your side to inspect the dress as a smile crossed your face. For once you felt quite confident in yourself rather than sulking about your husbands antics.

It didn’t take long for you to suddenly be snapped out of your daze as the and of the door swung open against the wall, revealing your husband with his arms folded in the doorway. You nearly choked on your own breath, coughing in shock as the sudden thud of wood banging against the wall had startled you, making your body jolt.

“Well, you look like a snack don’t you?” He sneered, causing you to instinctively brush your hands along your elbows as you folded your arms, physically recoiling from his forward advances. You thumbed at the fabric anxiously, sucking in a breath of fearful anticipation with each step he took. That was until his arm grasped at the dip of your waist tightly, fingers digging in as if he wasn’t going to let you go. There wasn’t much you could do besides hold your breath as you felt yourself being pulled against him, perturbation screaming at every single mental alarm, every possible sense you had before yanking away from him to fix the front of your dress.

“Please. Enough. You said we’ll be late, right?”

He only flashed you a grin, taking your hand in his, which you almost immediately yanked away from.

“Yeah. Get in the car. Remember no smartass remarks. And if anyone asks, you’re my wife. Nothing more.”

You averted your gaze at his statement, only walking over to the door of the sleek rental car before climbing into the back seat. No way you were about to get into the passenger seat next to him. Once you seated yourself into the back against the smooth leather, you proceeded to draw in the remaining droops of fabric your dress hung out of the car before shutting the door and leaning back into the head rest.

The ride felt like it was driving past various roads and buildings for hours, each time you gazed out the window to see a tree flash by quickly feeling as if it had been a century since you had first gotten into the car. However, you found yourself lazily parked—courtesy of your husband—before a opulent hall towering above you and lit up brightly despite the sun peeking behind the clouds in the afternoon. Two large doors framed the opening carved around the center, adorned with outlines of black steel, and large knockers stuck on the inner part of the door frame. A lanky man in a suit stood upright beside the parted door, arms tucked behind his back as his eyes scanned each person who made their way in and out of the building hall.

You exited the confines of the car, ducking your head to avoid hitting it along the roof before standing straight and closing the car door behind you. Your husband only shoved your shoulder in response, grasping your wrist as he dragged you along with him with haste before the doors. You didn’t even bother to protest, and flashed the guard a weak smile as your heels dragged along the rolled out carpet leading into the hall. Just get this over with. You’ll be fine.

He finally released your hand carelessly, not paying any mind to you while you shook your wrist and blew on it to subside the effects of his tight grasp. The chandelier decorated with candles rocked back and forth above your head, while various bars and tables stocked with food and drinks furnished every corner of the hall. Along with that, a large screen flashed at the very front of the hall blared loudly along with the speakers situated on both sides of the screen.

—

The entire event had been nothing but a bore. Rich man after rich man bragging about his company which he knew nothing about. The people who came up to you and your husband when you both were standing by each other attempting to converse with the two of you, and inquire more about you, were only met with your husband’s constant boasts about how you were merely his wife. Your achievements were his too, and therefore he was the one credited. This only led up to you isolating from him, and practically everyone at the party, drowning your sorrows away in glass after glass of champagne. Thankfully, your high alcohol tolerance allowed you to remain appearing sober, only needing to tighten your hand around the table for support occasionally.

Heavy lidded, you brought another glass to your lips as you tilted your head back in one jerk, gulping down the alcoholic beverage and squeezing your eyes shut. You let out a quiet hum as you set down the glass on the table behind you, dragging along the table cover as you examined the vicinity through droopy eyes. The same. Everyone was just wearing suits and that god awful smug expression. You simply rubbed your forehead, stress lines forming along your skin as your massaged it.

That was until a dashing figure caught your eye. Someone familiar.

You squinted your eyes once more, catching a single streak of black hair blended into white, a thin ponytail trailing down her nape to the back of her white suit. At this point, you were sure the drinks had definitely done something to you. You just missed her so much you were going insane and hallucinating like a typical drunkard. Yet, you couldn’t mistake that piercing gaze—near glowing red crosses embedded into her pitch black pupils within heavy eyes.

Despite still being drunk, you shouldered through the crowd, halting upon reaching the circle of people crowding the alluring woman who held a glass of wine between her sharp, black faded fingertips. Her crimson lipstick glistened as a hint of wine smeared across it, expression remaining indifferent to the heaps of people surrounding her while she leaned onto the table. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It really was her.

Arlecchino. Where have you been this whole time?

Steep breaths caught in your throat, you pushed past the crowd, stumbling occasionally and not minding their complaints. You wanted to do so much. Cry, hug her, apologize, run away from your caged marriage, talk to her, catch up—everything. She simply turned her back to the crowd before you could even reach a viable proximity near her, stepping away to a more secluded location. Your heart sank as you began to lose sight of her, gaze fixated on her white suit with the emblem in the center of her chest as you continued to keep your eyes on her in the crowd no matter what.

You paved through each bundle of people blocking your path, staggering occasionally due to your own drunkenness as you finally caught sight of Arlecchino leaned against a polished wall near a table, eyes fluttered shut as she sipped her refined glass of red wine. Breathing heavily, you staggered over to her, resting yourself at her side before slowly trailing your sights up to her face with bleary eyes and a near pleading expression.

“Arle..?”

She only cocked an eyebrow in response, staring down at you with a cold gaze lacking recognition. “Do I know you?”

Hurt burned in your throat as you fought not to cry upon hearing those words from Arlecchino’s lips, your own bottom lip being dragged between your teeth to prevent making its fervent trembling noticeable.

“Arle, it’s me, please.” You choked out, placing a hand on your chest while panting heavily as you locked eyes with hers. “It’s me, (Name)..” you mumbled under your breath in a shaky voice, tears threatening to sting the corner of your eyes at any given moment. Arlecchino suddenly set down her glass, coming face to face with you before her own eyes widened at your familiar features.

“Ah. It really is you isn’t it?”

Although her tone remained calm and collected, it wasn’t hard to tell how her voice softened for you, growing sweet like nectar dripping from her crimson lips. You nearly sobbed upon feeling her hand gently brush along your cheek, your own hand resting atop hers as you leaned into her touch, trembling. You could barely articulate what you wanted to say, each word coming in short breaths as droplets of tears pricked at your eyes subtly.

“My darling. You haven’t changed much. Still as beautiful as the day I met you…” her thumb circled the skin of your cheek, eyes roaming down to the same crimson lipstick she used decorating your own lips. “…and the day you departed from me.”

“Arle- I’m so sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you then! I can’t live like this any longer! I can’t! I knew it was you ever since I didn’t listen to what my feelings told me! Please! I love you, Peruere!” You gasped out desperately in one breath in a near sob, clinging onto Arlecchino like a lifeline as you grasped at the fabric of her coat. She only let out a soft hum, resting her chin onto your head as she took in your scent. You were wearing her perfume. Soothingly, her fingertips traced a repetitive pattern of comforting circles along your back, something she always did when you both were in your youth to calm you down.

“(Name). I’ve never once lost my feelings for you. I love you. And you only. I’m just, pleased that I get to see you again.” She sighed, burying her nose into your soft tufts of hair at the top of your head as she hugged you. She hemmed her arms around your vulnerable form holding her tightly, almost like a promise to never let you go again, to protect you from any harm that dared cross your path. Wiping your eyes, you cleared your throat as you pulled away from your moment of weakness, standing straight before Arlecchino as your palms nervously clasped together in front of you.

“Tell me, how awful is he to the point where he broke you like this..?”

“Terrible. Straight from hell if I could say. I’m stuck. I’m so fucking stuck you don’t even know.”

“I see.”

She paused, proceeding to say her next words.

“Would you reprimand me if I said once more that I told you so?”

You shook your head, contrasting the initial reaction you had when you first lashed out at her all those years ago.

“Nope. I’d affirm that you were right. I shouldn’t have complied with what society wants if it means I have to suffer.” You replied, gritting your teeth together as you looked away in shame. Arlecchino only placed a hand on your shoulder, running her arm down the curve of your shoulder as her sleek hands traveled down the flushed skin of your arm. “You would always get warm like this when I touched you.” She reminisced, letting out an exhale of contentment.

All of a sudden, the comfort of the moment was shattered by your husband’s voice, slicing through the tranquility harbored between you and her mere moments ago.

“Ah! (Name)! Who’s this? A friend?”

He eagerly shook her hand, while Arlecchino’s gaze grew resentful and repulsed of the man before her, her own hand clasped around his with every ounce of hatred she possessed. Brows furrowing, she immediately pulled her hand back, manner remaining distinctive, yet subtly aggressive.

“Ah, you may talk to me now in fact. This woman is my wife! And she’s just my wife don’t worry about it. Anything she told you is my achiev-“

“Shut your fucking mouth. Before I shut it for you—nauseating son of a bitch.” She replied harshly, eyes locked on him with nothing but murderous intent.

“Don’t speak to me that way you slut-!”

He was cut off by Arlecchino’s firm grasp on his wrist, nails digging into his flesh barely. Although—her mere strength alone was enough to nearly shatter his wrist, making him cry out for mercy and forgiveness from the woman looking down upon him. Fear clouded his eyes for the first time you had ever seen as Arlecchino looked him in the eye, his pupils shaking from anticipation and fear. “Refrain from speaking about her like that, or treating her poorly. If I find out about your disgusting antics again I’ll personally tear you apart limb by limb, understood?”

Before he could respond, she tossed him aside like a ragdoll as he gripped his arm in agony lip quivering at the searing pain ripping at the aftermath of his wrist. In the meantime, you felt Arlecchino’s lips brush against your ear, staining the shell a light blood red color as she whispered softly.

“May I?”

You smiled genuinely for the first time in years, nodding as you felt her warm breath caress the side of your face once more. God, you missed that feeling. Her arm circled the wide ends of your waist, pulling you tightly against her as she held you close under her watchful eye. It was simple. She’d never leave you again.

—

“Peruere..since when did you even get such a nice modern home like this? I’d die to live here.”

She breathed out a quiet laugh, tidying up an area quickly with her back turned to you as she stood in her nightly wear. “No need. You will be living here if you’d like, darling.” She glanced over her shoulder at your form splayed out on the mattress, comfortably hugging the pillow to your chest. It was evident that you’d never felt this safe or happy in quite some time. She put down the cup she was rearranging near an odd table in her room, seating herself on the bed as she motioned you to come closer. A light chuckle escaped her lips as you complied, shifting close into her arms comfortably as you basked in her warmth.

“What about my husband?”

“What about him?”

“Well- I am still married to him. I’m legally still stuck.”

Laying back, Arlecchino just exhaled in response, threading her slender fingers through your hair.

“I will get you out. Trust me. For now, just rest how I wanted us to. You have a lot of love you missed out on, and I’m here to help us catch up on that.”

You sighed peacefully against her at those words, curling up at her side as you nuzzled into her. For the first time, you could sleep peacefully with a weight beside you. This was all you had wanted. Safely enveloped in Arlecchino’s embrace, being able to bask in tranquility and solace with the woman you loved as you sought an escape from the cruel torment of your husband.

Perhaps it all worked out in the end.

No.

It did work out in the end, as you slumbered in your beloved’s arms.

A/N: HOLY SHIET THERES SO MUCH I WANNA SAY

first of all tysm for 1k followers I genuinely appreciate all the support and I hope my writing has improved over the course of the past year and a half or so!

Second guess who’s alive again yay but writing is a little rusty

Third I am in fact going thru a little internal struggle atm so if my works are a bit late or kinda ass bear with me please 😭‼️

Other than that ily all I love how the second half of this turned out and yeah 🕯️

I’m kinda cold ngl

[starboye]

starring: tate langdon x male reader

request: omgg can u do a tate langdon obsessive boyfriend fic

warnings: smut, cursing, flff, bondage, kinda sub!tate and dome!reader at times, mentions of offing someone, jerking off, some pervert actions, jealous!tate

he'll never actually say it but you know he's an obsessive boyfriend and that's why you love him, he'll do absolutely anything for you, just name it and he's one it, you want him to get you something to eat? done. you want him to give you a massage? done. oh you want him to fuck you till you can't walk? well he'll do that without you having to ask.

but one thing he will never admit even over his dead body is he's jealous, he doesn't know why but when he sees another man even make a small compliment about you he's thinking of the many ways to hide a dead body, only calming down with your words and soft touches across his face.

and damn it was he a sucker for you, putting up a immovable wall in front of everyone else but the second it's just you two alone he's begging you to let him be little spoon during cuddling and pleading for some head scratches, most of all becoming a brainless dildo the moment you take charge in bed, ordering him around makes his knees go weak.

he will occasionally bring you little trinkets or gifts just to show his appreciation for you or even smother you with kisses once you're alone, sometimes even gifting you pictures of yourself that you have no idea how he took them but you still never minded.

if you do the right things he'll become a whimpering mess under you, starting off with slow kisses that turn into making out while you detail everything you love about him, he doesn't even realize you're on top of him while he's laying on the bed, to drunk off your lips and the sudden feeling of your slipping your hands into his pants and jerking him off moaning and whining out your name the whole night like he's high out of his mind.

he would definitely make a playlist about which songs remind him of you and you treasure each and every one of them like they're gold because to you both they are.

he would definitely try bondage if you beg hard enough, like how could say no to those cute eyes and you didn't disappoint, tying his hands to the head board and teases him over and over knowing he couldn't do anything, it was fucking torturous as hell but why was he so turned on by it, maybe because he liked the feeling of being used by a pretty boy like you.

he's to shy to admit it but he jerks off to picture of you, some nights when he can't sleep due to the overwhelming thoughts of you riding him he'll bring out his phone and scroll through your instagram, jerking off to the mere sight of your face, so pretty for him and those lips look so cute he wishes you were the one jerking him off.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft@mindyonastybusiness

[minaj-estyyy]

Bakugou would get so picky about positions 🤦🏽‍♀️

He would like positions where you couldn’t see his face, he’d say it’s for his “pride” or some shit like that. Imagine how he felt when you asked to try something other than laying him face down on the table/ bed. He would flat out refuse, not even trying to reason with you about this.

You’d try to catch his attention with the silly names they come up with for said positions like ‘magic mountain’ or ‘leap frog’ etc. He didn’t even know what the hell those were. But when you mentioned the mating press, he’d perk up with his eyebrows raised.

“You couldn’t even if you tried.”

…

Imagine folding Bakugou into a mating press just because he said you couldn’t.

Getting him into the position was harder than keeping him there, because when he felt just how deep you’d gone, he’d cum. With each and every thrust he’d given up on coving his face. Instead he’d use his hands to reach down to caress the bump that would appear and disappear between his abs, pressing down on it would make his walls clench around you so good.

He’d love how tight his body felt with you pressed so close against him, how overstimulated he’d feel to have all his senses being triggered at once. The sound of you panting against his neck, the smell of sex in the air that wouldn’t be going away anytime soon, the taste of your fingers muffling his noises that were growing in volume to try and prevent the others from hearing, the way your dick would kiss his insides and fill him up so generously, and the sight of his fucked out face while the feeling of the cool puddle forming on his lower belly imprinted itself on his stomach for him to remember forever.

He loves it, even if he’d never truly say it.

Muah 💋

[childof-stars]

Hi! Me again. I liked the last Oscar request I made so can I ask for another with Oscar? This time some comfort after a traumatic experience

Who doesn't like a good'Ol taste of ✨️Trauma✨️

Let's go off from the last one with Oscar

You having a career in the Nitro dome (bare with me-)

And as you would compete in these, let's say, derbie tournaments, you would often win alot

So much so, You start to get the Attention of Scarr

After one of the tournaments she comes up to you with a deal

"Hey kid, you have some real talent, how about I cut you a deal?"

"Depends"

"He- I like you already, anyway, how about you join us, you can work with me here at the dome, hell- you can even have you own medallion, Just imagine a life of fame and destruction"

You stare at her for a few seconds, "I- I'll have to think about it- Talk about with Pa"

She gives you a glare, a cold sadistic glare,

"Follow me first, I want show you something"

___________________________________________

It's been a too long, you should have been home by now, Oscar waiting for you at the entrance of classy courts

He had been waiting outside for a long time, so much so he had fallen asleep waiting for you

That's when he heard it, a car, but not your car, he looked out the window, and saw a different vehicle pull up, tossing a body out the side of it, your body

Oscar hurriedly ran out to your aid, finding your lying on your side in pain, with deep cuts and bruises

"What in the blue blazes happened!?"

"S-she told me i-if I didn't join them- t-they would kill you- A-and s-she did thus to me"

Oscar hurriedly carrying you inside, cleaning your wounds while trying to comfort you there your tears and hisses of pain

"Don't worry my little kit, it'll all be over soon"

Oscar holding you in his embrace, his warm body, the feeling of comfort and saftey

"And here, when you go back, tell her you accept her deal, and take this with you"

Oscar handing you his gloves

"I've had these a long time, back when I first entered the fighting ranks, now there yours"

You take his gloves and put them on you, admiring them, then giving Oscar a hug

"I love you pa"

"I love you too kit"

I so sorry this took me so long, I've been doing exams all week 😭

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part One

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - none right now really, some angst, harmless flirting, tension, slight fluff, mention of wing loss

Hauntingly beautiful was one of the few ways to describe the High Lord Eris Vanserra.

There was a rake-ish look about him, like he belonged in one of Nesta's regency era romance novels that had her eyes widened and bottom lip caught between her teeth. It was rather infuriating.

Tension continued to linger, one of doubtful trust. Rhys wanted to trust Eris, he wanted to trust that the new High Lord of Autumn knew what he was doing, but something was stopping your brother from investing into the change fully and you weren't quite sure what.

Eris sat opposite you in the meeting chamber, eyes trailing down your figure approvingly, a crown of golden leaves dipping to his brow and accentuating those russet eyes that always sought to burn you with their intense glare. It had been strictly forbidden for you to leave Velaris on your own after what had happened to your elder sister at the hands of Tamlin, you understood it of course, Rhys wouldn't survive if he lost you too, his youngest sibling but by far the fiercest creature in all of Prythian's history.

War was scoured into your bones, hellfire raged in your soul, and you were very well known for your tactical prowess and outspoken nature, from your quick wit to your dry humour. Some said that you were the reason that Prythian still stood, you had worked very hard to undermine Amarantha right under her nose, feigning innocence and naivety that she drank from like a fountain of youth, you had been instrumental in the war against Hybern too, and Eris had watched in stoic awe as you wielded your sword like it was an extension of yourself, gracefully cutting down your victims and using your power to decimate hoards of males into ash.

Eris wouldn't admit it, certainly not in front of Rhysand and Cassian who made it his mission to keep Eris as far away from you as possible, but he thought that you were the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed. And as you sat before him, draped in a sheer black dress adorned with white crystals that allowed him to relish at the picture of your full breasts, it was taking him a lot of will power to not fling you on that table and take you right there and then, even if your brother was watching, he didn't care.

The meeting was simple, Rhys wanted to know how the politics between the courts were to improve with Eris now at the helm and steering the Autumn Court ship. Feyre sat to the left of your brother, dressed in her usual ethereal pale blue, another garment made by your mother, but less impressive than the items you owned. You sat to his right with Azriel to your side, Mor, Cassian and Nesta occupied the seats to Feyre's left in that order, and Lucien lingered somewhere between, still on the side of the Night Court, put just an arms length away from his brother.

Eris was stoic and cruel, power radiated from him, but you seemed the be the only one who saw what lingered beneath that façade. The occasional split second glance he would direct to Lucien when he thought no one was watching, one full of regret and sadness. It seemed that there were many more layers to Eris Vanserra than any of you realised.

"How do we know that you won't rule like your father did?" Rhys had craned forward in his seat, his jet black crown glistening in the darkening sunlight that poured down through the domed windows.

Eris' jaw ticked, a clearly sensitive subject for him, your chin dipped in examination and for a moment, he glanced to you, fire in his eyes that mirrored the very faint sphere of orange that curled around pupils, "Would I have bothered to overthrow him to only rule like him?" Eris replied with his own question and you felt Mor scoff from where you sat, your older cousin not enjoying the sentiment one bit.

"Who knows what you males strive for," Mor bit, more like growled, at him, you face remained distant and cold, you didn't remove your gaze from him, everyone knew that they couldn't hide from you, you were too observant.

Guilt had swirled in your gut at the sight of him, under examination by a group of people he longed to be somewhat friendly with, to work with to better the lives of his people, and Velaris was rich in knowledge and power, it was a court that you would want on your side if you walked a second in his shoes.

It wasn't often, if at all, that you would speak at meetings, it was an unspoken rule for you to be seen and not heard, your presence was powerful enough, and you did have the knack for making things worse with your jabbing words, "Raise your hand if your father is a piece of shit," the room fell silent, and Azriel had his head dipped low to conceal his smirk, his knee nudging yours gently in warning.

Slowly you raised your hand and looked to Rhys who rolled his eyes, but didn't raise his own, he didn't want to indulge you. In turn, Cassian raised his hand, Azriel lifted a finger as did Mor, Lucien's hand raised with his elbow still firmly plastered on the arm of his chair, and Eris didn't dare partake, but you all knew his answer already. Counting under your breath at the souls that had answered your call, you relaxed into your seat, "I don't know about you Rhys but I don't think you're anything like our dear old dad. Mor is nothing like hers, nor is Cassian or Azriel or Lucien. If we were all held accountable for the actions of our fathers then we surely would live in the most tyrannical world possible, no?"

Rhys raked down the iron clad walls of your mind and you gave him a pointed look, refusing him entry and smirking at the twitch that pulled at the corner of his lip, "There is no evidence that Eris will be like Beron, and refusing him alliance only makes such possibilities more likely," you picked at an invisible thread of your sheer black garment and feathered your fingers down the bargain tattoo that curled around your upper arm, one that matched the mark Azriel bore in the same place from a stupid bargain you had made what felt like eons ago.

"In simple terms, brother," you fluttered your eyelashes at him, ignoring his clear fury, "Get over yourself and give it a chance. Prythian can't be a land of harmony when males with big egos can't see the opportunity before them."

Feyre had confined herself to looking at the wall, shifting uncomfortably at the colliding forces of power between you and her mate. It was never something she had the courage to stand between, she'd perish if she even tried. Nesta was smirking at you, the only one who would hold Rhys accountable and live to see another day, relishing in the fury of the High Lord.

Another nudge prodded into your thigh and you snapped your gaze to Azriel, "Will you stop nudging me?" You swatted at his thigh, "This world has been through enough already, Amarantha, Hybern, Koschei... It's time that we made a world to be proud of and we can only do that if we work together."

"Who knew that the fawn had a voice?" Eris spoke and you sent him a satisfied grin, Rhys looked to the High Lord and snarled at the name he had dared to direct to you, but quickly composed himself with a warning glace to you that meant he would deal with you later.

Matching is tone, you teased, "Thank you. My campaign for High Lady is imminent," Cassian let out an audible low chuckle, his shoulders shaking next to Nesta who was doing her best to contain the amused smile that fought its way onto her lips.

Typical y/n.

Looking to Rhys, you smiled and waiting expectantly, he seethed out his answer, "Fine," he moved his attention to Eris who was still smirking at you, eyes blazing with curiosity, "We will work with you, Eris. Let's call this the start of a long lasting alliance between our courts," Rhys rose to his feet, "Please feel free to stay the evening and join us for dinner. I will have a room prepared for you."

An olive branch, one that made you avert your gaze to Eris to see him nod in shocked agreement.

Rhys lowered himself so that his head lingered by your ear, his fingers curled around the back of your chair, and he growled, "My office. Now."

A chill slithered down your spine and you smiled thinly at no one in particular before rising from your seat and following Rhys from the room. The pair of you didn't utter a single word as he led you through the halls of the House of Wind, walls that seemed to shrink away from your pulsating energies as he led you to his office and shut the door behind your entrance.

"What in the name of the Mother do you think you're doing?" Rhys seethed as he rounded your smaller figure, towering over you to the point that he shrouded you in the shadow of his figure and flexing wings.

With a raised brow, you spoke calmly, "I highly suggest you take a step back and stop trying to intimidate me," his gaze softened slightly and he obeyed you, stuttering back a couple of feet and tucking his wings out of sight.

"Eris is not someone that we should have an alliance with," he leaned against his desk and watched as you turned around, lifting the heavy glass lid to his whisky decanter and pouring two glasses of the amber liquid before extending one out to him which he took without question.

You waited until he had taken a sip before talking, "Regardless of what you think, you know I'm right," you took the seat opposite the desk and nestled into the deep brown cushions, leaving him standing before you, "Rhys, you wear a mask to the rest of the world, in everywhere other than Velaris. Cauldron, you even make us follow suit. Has it ever entered your limited mind that Eris may do the same, that he too is hiding behind the mask he has created for himself?"

Rhys frowned, "Did you just call me stupid?"

Scoffing, you sipped the amber liquid and enjoyed the delicious burn that sank down your throat, "All you're doing is proving my point."

Rhys threw his head back and inhaled deeply, clenching his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose, "You know that I love you," he lowered his gaze to wash over you, but you didn't falter, you had never faltered under Rhys' glare, you were perhaps the only one who wasn't impacted by it, "You have to understand that I will always do what is right to protect our home, to protect you."

"And you have to understand that I will always do what is right to better the continent, not just our people."

The relationship between you and Rhys was a complicated one. There was a lot of love and respect between you, but his fear of losing you often clouded his mind. His word was law, but your word was the final judgement. The reckoning. There was nothing even he could do to change that.

Many males had attempted to get close to you, but none were good enough to appease the expectations of the High Lord of the Night Court. It wasn't as if you cared. You required an equal, someone who wouldn't diminish your power, and males had the tendency to attempt to control you.

Rhys had even refused your hand to Helion, much to your disappointment, and before the acts that led to the demise of your sister, he had refused to extend a thought to Tamlin who had clearly been besotted with you. Thank the cauldron for that at least.

"You have a strong will, y/n," a backhanded compliment if you had ever heard one, you rose from your seat and placed your empty glass on the bare surface to his left, "It will get you in trouble."

"Good. I can't wait."

Leaving Rhys alone in his office had filled you with far too much smugness and serenity.

The golden tainted pink hue from the sunset poured through the large windows, trickling up the walls and coating your skin in its soft shimmer as you paced before them.

Black fabric chased after your steps from your dress sweeping in the breeze you had created in your movements, you could feel the comfort of your chambers, you could almost taste it as you rounded the corner and entered the room without a second thought.

The familiar skitter of cool kisses swirled around your ankles and you didn't need to look up to see who was splayed across your cream comforter, "I know what you're going to say," you disappeared behind the thin clouded dressing screen and peeled your dress from your body, rifling through the railing full of ornate pieces whilst Azriel examined your silhouette from his place on your bed.

"Then I don't need to tell you how stupid you are," you looked over your shoulder at his words, like he could see your expression which was one of confusion and annoyance, "I swear you get more defiant each day."

Peeking your head around the corner of the screen, displaying your face and shoulder to him, you spoke, "It's the only exciting thing I have to do around here."

Azriel quirked a brow to you, his shadows dancing around his shoulders at the sound of your voice, "That's not true," you scoffed at his words and disappeared back behind the screen, continuing on your quest to find a dress for dinner, "There are plenty of things to keep you entertained in Velaris."

"Azriel," you deadpanned, not stopping your movements in plucking dressed from the railing and holding them up to your body, "Rhys doesn't let me do anything other than train and sit and look pretty and intimidating. I'm Velaris' glorified trophy."

A particular garment caught your eye and you smirked, taking it from its hanger and pulling it up your form. It was a stunning piece, one you rarely wore. An ornate solid gold bodice of blooming roses and ivy that connected to a red wine skirt that possessed a high slit, cream lace poked from the highest point of the slit and kissed your thigh.

"That's not true. He let you fight against Hybern," Azriel told you pointedly, seemingly becoming lost for words when you stepped from the screen and soothed down the skirt of the dress before bending down to secure golden heeled sandals to your feet.

"I fought against Hybern because there was no choice to do anything but that," you hadn't spared the Shadowsinger a glance but smiled softly at the shadows that curled lovingly around your ankles, you held two sets of earrings up to your ears and tilted your head in the mirror, "I'm sure if there was an option to stay home then Rhys would have gladly assigned the position to me."

Azriel rose from the bed, moving behind you and resting his hands on your hips, his hazel eyes boring into your reflection, "He worries about losing you. He couldn't stop what happened to your mother and sister, I think he just wants to be able to stop anything from happening to you," Azriel smiled at you and your orange ringed violet eyes softened at him, "Wear the red ones, they match the skirt."

"Thanks, Az," he hummed in response and took a step back, the place where his hands once lay turning cold and begging for more, "Shall we go to dinner then? What an exciting evening we have ahead of us," Azriel chuckled and offered his arm to you which you gladly took, allowing him to pull you from the room.

There was an unspoken attachment between you and Azriel, like it could be something more if you were both willing to risk your already perfect relationship on the notion of it. You both knew that feelings lingered, but if Rhys ever found out it would surely cause a civil war within your family, and you'd hate to think where everyone would stand in that battle.

The dining room had been beautifully dressed, a black tablecloth and tall golden candles, gold plates and coated silverware, ornate but expensive goblets and an array of blood red and orange flowers, no doubt a nod from Feyre of respect toward Eris.

Azriel left you at your usual seat with a subtle squeeze of the hand before rounding the table and taking his spot opposite you, scuffing the chair against the stone and sitting in it as you did in yours. Family members trailed in one by one, Nesta took her seat beside you and Cassian sat to her left, Mor took the spot beside Azriel and Elain took the other, then Amren entered, then Rhys and Feyre, the former of which nestled into his spot at the head of the table.

Then Lucien and Eris entered, and the High Lord eyed the last two remaining spaces, the one at the head of the table opposite Rhys or the one next to you, and Eris strode beyond his brother to steal that option. He teetered at the edge of it and peered down on you questioningly, "May I?"

Feeling Rhys' eye on you that you didn't dare to acknowledge, you nodded gently, "Of course," he took your answer in the palm of his hand and used it to pull the chair out, his scent of mulled wine, candied orange and pine filling your lungs as he sat.

Eris was dressed well, a red waistcoat adorned with golden swirls, a cream shirt that was tucked into the waistband of his black pants, like he knew to match your own attire, something that not only you noticed.

Idly, decanters of wine floated about the space, pouring themselves into the empty goblets placed at every seat, and food began to appear, dish by dish, on the long table. Platters of roasted vegetables, silver dishes piled with meats, bowls of fresh salads, boats of sauces, and most importantly, towers of desserts that made your eyes glisten, wanting to skip the main course entirely and help yourself to a slice of cake.

Clearing his throat, Rhys raised his goblet, tearing you from your salivating thoughts, "A toast," he smiled thinly at Feyre whose gaze shifted to you and then to the male at your side, "To new alliances."

The room repeated the sentiment before digging in, doing their best to ignore the swirling tension caused by Eris choosing to spend the evening sat beside you. Though, that soon vanished when Cassian started telling his many tales of his escapades throughout the years with the intermittent corrections from Rhys and Azriel.

"I should thank you," a low voice spoke from your right and you craned your head toward Eris, his hypnotising russet orbs were fixated on you, dark and full of wonder as they raked over your face, "For what you said at the meeting. I hope you weren't scolded for helping my cause."

Eris' voice was low, only loud enough for you to hear and you alone, his eyes were soft and stare void of that stoic cold that usually possessed it. He looked like a completely different person, there was actually kindness bubbling within him, genuine sincerity in his words.

"Rhys can scold me all he wants, it'll never change anything," you replied in the same tone, the orange ring in your eyes burning like wildfire, "Anyhow, it's a cause worth supporting."

From the corner of your eye, you caught Lucien watching you with intrigue, his fingers encased with Elain's atop the table with a knowing glitter lingering in his expression, he grinned as his brother spoke and leaned toward Elain to whisper something beyond your realm of hearing, "I can't remember the last time I saw you before Hybern."

Smirking, you asked, "Have you been thinking about me, High Lord?"

"It's not hard to," he replied honestly, watching the faint blush creep up your cheeks, "When was the last time?"

Humming, you thought about it, it wasn't often you actually left the confinements of Velaris thanks to your brother's protective antics, your eyes glazed over slightly, "It was Under The Mountain, at the beginning, after she," you rolled you shoulders, coiling them in the memory of that night.

That's right, the last time he had seen you before the war had been the night after Amarantha had stripped your wings from your body, carving them off with her talons to punish Rhys' reluctance. It had taken everything within Eris to not set her alight on the spot, if he could have, after he had seen your shaking pale form wandering the halls like a ghost.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up."

"It's fine," you insisted, sighing deeply, "It's a fading memory now, I've adjusted well."

"I'm glad to hear it," the genuine tone to him was confusing, but you always knew there more to him than what met the eye, and part of you was proud to have been correct about it.

Eris had grown up listening to the stories about you and Rhys, two formidable winged warriors that exuded darkness and power, who held the capacity in their fingers to shatter kingdoms if they so wished it.

It didn't scare him. You had never scared him actually.

"Make the most of this alliance, Eris. It's very rare that I speak up on such matters," you told him, sipping from the wine in your cup and placing it back onto the tabletop under Rhys' watchful gaze.

There was an elegance about you, Eris noticed, the poised shoulders and perfectly slender pointed ears, the violet eyes with the speckles of Autumn orange, the grace laced in your words. It was a spectacular thing to witness up close.

"Then why did you?"

There was a moment of contemplation and you furrowed your brow in thought, "I can't sit by and be part of the reason why people suffer," very unlike Rhys, "Other than that," you trailed off, looking deep into his eyes like your violet pools were drowning in his soul, "I'm not quite sure."

Author's Note

Part one to the series I've been planning for awhile.

Prepare yourselves for a pining, needy slow burn with a hint of forbidden love x

[simp-ly-writes]

The Titanic

─────── · · For All Time: The Series (pt.4)

─ · · PAIRING: 10th Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord (not including yourself in the mirror), and you were ready to made that twenty-three days while voyaging on the Titanic... if only the Doctor didn't have similar plans...

─ · · TAGS: jealous!Doctor 👀, female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence, soulmate au, emotional angst, ✨ tension ✨, coarse language, eventual happy ending (but not yet), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,169 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE

─ · · A/N: I. am. so. invested in these two I swear-

─────── · · 

One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord, not including yourself of course while preparing your century-conscious appearance in the mirror this morning. It was the early 20th century- just ahead of world war one and part way through the second industrial revolution. 

City streets were covered in a layer of smog, cars were humming loudly past you and various city dwellers could be heard shouting in the early morning streets. Even with the ability to time travel you still found yourself late, pushing yourself through the mass of people at the port all there to catch a glimpse of the “Wonder Ship.” 

You listen as the horns blare, cheer erupt from the crowd you apologize and step around before finally making your way in life to board. Psychic paper in one hand, your TARDIS luggage in the other. And to think some don’t think to carry their’s with them, you smile to yourself, flashing the blank paper at one of the staff members. 

“Welcome aboard the RMS Titanic, Miss. (last/name). We hope you have a pleasant trip,” the young man greets you with a slight bow, “may we take your luggage to your room for you?” He offers, extending his hand to yours yet you pull back just in time. 

“I should be fine with this old thing, I think the gentlelady behind me might need some help though,” you tilt your head back signalling to the refined woman behind you and the array of suitcases her various staff carry behind her. 

“I will do just that, Miss. Smith,” he smiles at you and you mirror the same before making your way up the step onboard. You pause just in front of the staircase, luggage being supported by both your hands as you spin around in a circle to watch as the stained glass dome above reflects against the mosaic tiles and marble staircase. The carved wood beams and panelled walls are nothing short of stunning not to mention all the crystal fixtures. Humans… never cease to amaze me with their pure determination…

Looking down at your watch, the undocking ceremony would be happening in just under an hour and with that in mind, you made your way towards your room. Yet just before you could turn down the last hall a male voice called out to you, “Madame! Mademoiselle! Miss! Ah- Lady? Duchess?... Princess? Excuse me!” footsteps rushed in your direction before pausing just in front of you. 

“At some point I have been all of the above but its Miss (last/name) now,” you clarify while observing the man before you; watching as their shirt expanded and flexed with every breath, the man smiles apologetically at you, cheeks slightly flushed from running as a white-gloved hand presents a key hanging from a silk bow to you, “well then, Miss. All of the above, you dropped this in the lobby,” he explains. 

“Oh… thank you,” you take the key gently from his possession and tuck it into your pocket before continuing down the hall- pausing after a few steps hearing as he does not turn back, “Is everything alright?” you question. 

“Yes, quite. I was just wondering… do you drink?” You hum to yourself in contemplation. 

“Depends on what's being served,” you counter, playing with the stitching on your gown. 

“We’re on the Titanic, they’ve got it all,” he does his best to entice you with a dazzling wink. 

“If that's the case then… How could I refuse, Mister…?” you linger your words for an answer. It feels good being wanted, you think to yourself standing up that bit taller feeling as his gaze lingers on your warming cheeks. 

“Mr. Hartley, Wallace Hartley-” he begins to answer before your own excitement cuts him off, “the musician!- violinist and band lead if I am correct?”

“Most certainly so, It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bends down, pressing a kiss to the back of your gloved hand, touch lingering as he stares up at you before letting go. You feel one of your hearts skip a beat as you shift your weight from foot to foot. “...Can I expect to see you at the Lounge at seven?” he asks. 

“Till then, Mr. Hartley,” you give him one last look over before entering your room and falling against the closed door. Maybe I allow myself this one night to forget who I am… just the one…

─────── · ·

“Doctor! I have nothing to wear, we’re going on the bloody titanic of all things and I can’t waltz up on the deck wearing M&S!” Donna yells from her room, various articles of clothing thrown out into the hall as the Doctor emerges from the wardrobe in a full black tailored suit with a silk bow-tie to match. “Well don’t you clean up nicely, making me feel real good here spaceman,” Donna grumbles before throwing a shoe by his foot that he kicks aside. 

“You do know that the TARDIS has a full costume room… right?” the Doctor dips his head, whispering the information in an effort to lower his companions tone. 

“And you didn’t think to, oh- I don’t know, tell me that sooner before I emptied my whole closet?!” Donna stands with a frustrated sigh before walking past the Doctor and across the hall to open the suddenly-appeared door. She lets out a long low whistle at the multi-leveled room, each article organized and tagged by planet and era. “Why do you have so many feminine articles?” She picks out a Rococo gown, mesmerized by every pearl detail that glimmers underneath the warm lighting, “I mean this is just… it really takes your breath away, just look! Someone made this!”

The Doctor pauses, a frown noticeably forming on his face as Donna picks up one of your old dresses. He remembers ordering that very gown for you whilst visiting the Queen of France for the first time. He watched you spin and twirl underneath the candlelight, held you in his arms as you smiled brightly up at him. He could still feel your painted lips underneath his shirt before you buttoned it up with a teasing smirk that made him feel hot and bothered all night long- “Doctor?”

The Time Lords blinks repeatedly, “Sorry, what?” He clears his throat, standing up straight- refusing to look Donna in the eyes. 

“Is everything alright?” she asks, placing the gown back on the rack, concerned for her best-friend. 

“It's nothing,” the Doctor shrugs it off, starting to humm to himself while making his way ‘further in time’ towards the earlier twentieth century in search of something for his companion to wear. “I think we have a few options over here and shoes are just underneath. I’ll grab you a coat for the deck.” 

Donna silently watches as the Doctor flinches while touching certain articles of clothing as if they burned him, his eyes blinking away the smoke and ash before casting her a bright smile, coat and shoes in arms. “I think this is everything, I’ll be in the console room when you’re ready-”

“Doctor?” Donna calls out once more, heart pained seeing as the Doctor forcibly tries to stifle a pain burning from within. 

“Yes?” the Doctor pauses at the door, turning back around while staring down at his shoes. Donna pauses, eyes casting over the lanky man’s frame with a saddened sigh, “can I ask you something?”

“You just did-” he quips.

“Oi! Don’t you get all smart on me now,” Donna hisses like a disappointed mother watches as the Doctor's shoulders only deflate more. “Who wore these clothes?”

The Doctor stills, breathing and hearts stopped as the oxygen in the room becomes heavy in his lungs causing him to cough up an excuse. Donna instantly regrets asking the question having never seen the Doctor appear so… weak and small. “You don’t have to answer that!” She quickly rushes out yet the Doctor concedes. 

“They were- they are everything to me, the stars, the void, and time itself…” The Doctor opens his mouth, hesitating before killing the thought as it sparks, “we really must get going now or else I’m afraid we’ll miss the band playing,” the Doctor proceeds to storm out of the wardrobe, hand clenched into a fist that he forces himself to ease. 

─────── · ·

The Lounge is packed by the time you arrive. The undocking ceremony was… uneventful and took quite some time to move such a ship from the port that you left part ways. Wallace was already performing on stage, casting you a wink as you moved towards the front of the stage to take a seat at one of the lower tables. A crystal glass sat in your hands, a small plate of finger-food on the table for you to pick at as you watched the ice melt whilst tapping your foot to the beat, head swinging side to side- following the rhythm. 

You can hear the small conversations happening around you, the clinking of glasses and polite laughs but amongst all the noise a small gasp has you turning around in your seat, attention peaked to find a tall, slender, and very handsome man with brown eyes already staring back at you and your bond snaps back into place. Your hearts stop, you feel yourself sink more into your chair, rooted in place as the song begins to pick up with the shakes in your hand as if you're conducting it. 

With parted lips you whisper a name you promised yourself to forget yet never seemed able to, hands squeezing and threatening to shatter the crystal in your hand. Doctor… and the man responds to the title with darkened eyes and long strides over to you before being stopped by the ginger woman on his arm. You shake your head at the scene, of course! You laugh at yourself before forcing your eyes back towards the stage seeing as Wallce is already looking concerned at you. Want to leave? He mouths, eyes pointed towards the backstage door. 

You raise a brow, Leave, now? But you’re performing… you mouth back, setting your glass on the table and readjusting your gloves. 

Wallace only shrugs before whispering something into the pianist's ear and the song slowly dies out. You stand quickly, clapping with the rest of the crowd as Wallace hands his violin off to one of his band members and jumps down from the stage, sauntering over to you and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

You jolt at the touch, your skin coming alive with a thousand sparks trying to reach the surface and taking on the appearance of goosebumps hidden beneath your gloves and sleeves. Wallace places a hand against your back that slowly dips down seeing as the Doctor nears and for a moment you doubt your ability to see properly as the moment feels too surreal. 

Whatever rush you originally felt was met with an overwhelming sense of calm, as if you were simply resting underwater and being hugged by all angles, protected under his gaze. “Hello sweetheart,” he speaks softly, hand raising slowly to hover just below your chin yet refusing to touch. 

He watches you, waiting for you to reply, to pull him in or push him back like the tide. You press more weight into Wallace’s side as the Doctor studies you, Wallace’s head drops in order to whisper in your ear- asking if you’re alright. The Doctor’s hand twitches at the sight, the millisecond of a touch has you taking in a shaky breath and you suddenly feel too hot, cheeks flushed and throat dry as your body wants nothing more than to be near the Doctor, to try and reform your bond. 

You catch the fiery-haired woman's gaze as she looks between you and the Doctor in nothing short of purse shock and maybe a bit of terror. The Doctor’s hand lingers, slowly cupping your cheek, pulling your face gently closer, “you’re… so you,” his words broken and strained by on-coming tears, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful,” he whispers too quietly for human ears.  

Your throat is dry as you lick your lips, unsure of how to respond- you pull away from his touch, instantly regretting your actions by the wince in his eyes and the sharp pain you feel in your hearts. You force your gaze away and towards Wallace, “Mr. Hartley, meet my ex-husband, John Smith. Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Heartley.”

The Doctor reaches out and grabs the other man's hand in a firm handshake with dead eyes and to your shock, Wallace levels the Doctor's look, looping his arm around your waist with a stiff smile, “A pleasure, Mr. Smith.”

“Wish I could say the same, Mr. Heartley and now darling, ex-husband? Can we at least discuss something’s-” the Doctor begins to ramble, taking a step closer before Donna grips the back of his suit, “Mr. Smith! What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

Yet you both don’t pay attention to the human, your reminiscent gaze now hardened by the Doctor's apparent nonchalance, “You would still be my husband if you didn’t try and kill me, darling, or did you forget already? Seems that's an easy thing for you to do,” you spit out the pet name with enough venom to have the fellow Time Lord stumbling back in shock and hurt before becoming overwhelmed in rage. 

“Forget?” the Doctor wiggles Donna's grasp off himself as he storms back up to you, pointing a finger between your two hearts, “I forgot nothing. Not their screams, the death and murders. Not our wedding and our travels and especially not the way you make me feel. How could I ever forget about the best thing in my life?”

You laugh, cackle even as you stand straight and walk out of Wallace’s hold, the Doctor's finger now pressed against your heaving chest as you shake with anger. “If this is how you treat the best thing in your life, I really must not know who you are anymore, John-”

“I’m not John to you, not now, not ever,” the Doctor’s tone is low as he glares down at you causing you to suddenly notice just how tall this regeneration is as he looms over you, enveloping you in his shadow. 

“You lost any titles the moment you kissed another, you lost me once you began dreaming of her, and you lost any chance to be together again when you broke me so irreversibly that the Master had to come and help me out of all creatures! You. are. a. monster,” you grip the lapels of his suit jacket firmly between your fingers knowing that you’ll leave more than just creases by the time you were done with him and everything he did to you.

“And what? The Master is some saint?! He killed millions without cause and you call me the monster?” The Doctor's jaw is slack, disbelief echoing in the shakes of his head. You can feel his hearts racing and watch as a few strands of hair fall against his forehead. We’re awfully close holding each other like this, you think to yourself feeling as his warm breath fans your cheek and the gentle yet firm way he holds your hips. 

You swallow deeply, the Doctor's gaze immediately locking on to your throat, lingering on a section he remembers kissing the sweetest sounds out of. A thumb now circles your side causing you to bite your lip before responding, “You’ve killed millions too and most certainly more,” you grumble, feeling yourself slowly starting to lose your anger by every circle he traces. I hate the effect you have on me.

The Doctor hums, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again with a wink, “and I would burn down the whole galaxy again if you simply asked me to.” 

Again? You question yet are too caught up on winning the argument to care. “I hate you,” you mumble, adjusting his crooked tie. 

“No, you don’t,” the Doctor whispers into your ear while casting Wallace a smirk as he presses you against his chest, “You’ll always love me and I’ll always love you, for better or for worse.” 

“What makes you so sure of that?” words becoming slightly muffled as you press your face into his chest, soaking up the pure bliss and protection you feel in the Doctor's arms- like all the pain and suffering I’ve faced just fades away, you swallow deeply knowing this just to be your bond speaking to you but a small part within begs it all to be real, but it can’t, not after everything he’s done, I just wouldn't be right or fair to all the suffering I’ve faced. 

The Doctor closes his eyes, grip tightening around you as he places his chin atop your head, “Because we both fear the same thing… the darkness being all that's left and waiting for us at the end.” You let his words linger in the air just like his touch you try and absorb before peeling yourself away, every step like a shot to your chest. 

Don’t go, the Doctor's eyes speak, his touch featherlight whilst holding your hand, gaze utterly pained seeing your broken smile that wavers on a frown and you let go, apologizing to Wallace on your way out before making your way to your room without looking back. You could feel the Doctor’s gaze lingering on you until you were out of sight and even then the ghost of his touch still haunted you all the way back to your TARDIS. 

─────── · ·

Donna was struggling to keep up to the Doctor's long and determined strides as he blindsighted the various ornate details of the ship on a mission towards the lounge. “Doctor! Doctor,” Donna panted, stumbling into his back in her heels as the Time Lord stopped suddenly. “What’s got you in such a rush? This thing is sinking anyways so I don’t think any of your enemies would be aboard-”

“I just feel something, can’t place my finger on just what it is,” the Doctor cuts his companion off, taking a moment to allow Donna to catch her breath before she loops her arm around his in an effort to pace his strides. 

“Well whatever it is it better not be a heart attack since I don’t know the first thing on resuscitating two hearts,” Donna quips while staring at the frosted glass doors before the Doctor bows, inviting her into the room with a teasing smile. 

“I’ll show you how to after…” his sentence dies on his lips after losing the fight to a sharp in-take of air when he hears a rather irregular but all too familiar heartbeat in the crowd. A well dressed woman somehow hears his shock from across the room and turns in their seat to meet his gaze. It was like two stars colliding, an explosion of feeling that expands his chest when he hears his title addressed by your very lips and a chill runs down his spine. 

He wished he had a way to record this moment, to remember it as vividly as he was feeling it, but that would just be a waste of tape, he thinks to himself seeing as you turn back around without a second glance in his direction. Your rejection stings, acting as if he was just another face in the crowd and to make matters worse jealousy fires through his veins in watching some musician eye you up from the stage. And with a burning passion to have you look at him again, his shoes take action, body twisting and turning through the crowd with polite apologies that too die on his lips seeing as the musician's arm works its way around your waist, a position he remembered fondly taking. 

The Doctor almost smirks as your body reacts before your head, turning subconsciously to focus on him and he drinks in your flushed cheeks and wide eyes greedily. “Hello sweetheart,” his hearts sing with utter joy as you are just within reach, his hand lifting to caress your face gently as if you were made of glass. 

Another jolt of pain seeing as you lean into the musician has him drawing in want, lean into me, my love, he internally begs and uses a soft tone to try and hide some of his desperation from painting himself to be a pathetic picture in your eyes. “You’re… so you,” he fails to hide his emotions as tears force themselves forwards, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful….” and you pull yourself away again and again from him, each time more painful than the last. 

And with every word that takes the form of a sharpened stick staked into his chest, he can only stand still and wounded as you walk away and return to being just another memory that he would hold on tightly to until he forgot how it felt originally. 

Feeling as if he is standing alone in a room filled with people, the Time Lords' only stream of conscious thought is on you, how you thought yourself to be forgettable and just how wrong you were. He scouted various dimensions and galaxies, practically ripping time itself apart in an effort to find you after he was done fighting off the remaining Daleks. 

A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of standing in his TARDIS empty handed and alone as it too remained silent, the pure agony he felt before the rage that followed when not even the screams of his most wicked enemies could calm his soul. He was vengeful for so long, 700 years of healing to only form a scab as he searched for parts of you in others. The Doctor shakes his head at these thoughts, too painful to bear in the company of others. 

“You know Donna… I’ve always had the worst luck in a black suit,” the Doctor tries to joke and distract himself yet receives no reply as Donna’s mind is sent reeling with all the new information she just bore witness to, the dresses, the stars, everything, she thinks to herself whilst peering up at the Doctor. Who are you? Who are you, truly, to have such an impact on such a man… the Lord of Time himself… Yet just before she can ask any further questions, a sliver of the vengeful doctor slips out. 

Wallace shuffles on his feet awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed by the situation as the over six-foot alien glares down at him, “I’ve killed more people then there are current stars in your galaxy and even if you did manage to get to her… you wouldn’t stand a chance for very long… you wouldn’t even feel it happen.” 

“DOCTOR!” Donna breaks their disguise, pure unabashed shock and horror evident in her reaction to the Time Lords threat. 

“It's true,” the Doctor adjusts his suit with a shrug, drinking in the horrified human's face with satisfaction before swiftly turning on his feet and returning back to the TARDIS with Donna in tow. 

“I can’t believe you would say such a terrible thing to that poor man, Doctor. That really was not right,” Donna tisks disapprovingly while starting to take off her jewelry and gloves into a pile. 

The Time Lord rips off his suit jacket as if it burned him, tie following suit as he unbuttons the top of his shirt with a sigh of relief. “You know what’s not right, Donna?” the Doctor rhetorically asks, hands starting to float across the console like he had done a thousand times before. 

“Is that without her, I would gladly watch this universe and every other universe burn and take myself away with it but… I don’t… So call me greedy, a bad man, pathetic, a villain, what have you, I simply don’t care anymore!- and that should scare everyone,” the Doctor smiles yet it does not quite reach his hollow eyes, that childlike enthusiasm seemingly lost. Donna knows that look all too well, she’s seen it across her own face and in the faces of others but on the Doctors… it just didn’t look quite right. 

Donna turns, grabbing her pile of belongings and heads to her room without another word. The Doctor cracks his neck before leaning down and tinkering underneath the console in order to distract his mind. Donna takes note of the small tremors in his hand before closing her door to the hall and leans against the door. I’ll find you, whoever you are, Donna commands the space in front of her with determined eyes as if she could will you to be in front of her, I’ll find you… and then shove you both in a closet together, she laughs to herself at the thought… Now just how do I find a Time Lord?

─────── · · 

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE

─ · · A/N: God its gonna be so hot when they kiss... wait.. who said that?

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33 @blackoutdays13 @dlljdhsh @staygoldsquatchling02

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch. 3

L x Fem!Reader

Previous Part | Ch. 4

Word Count: 7k (hehe)

Tags: slow burn, oblivious, colleagues to lovers?, jealous! L, mentions of arousal, Lawliet POV at end, phone sex?, male erection, masturbation [male receiving], mentioning of female anatomy, MDNI, 18+

Synopsis: You continue the meeting as planed and can't help but wonder how you feel about Ryuzaki. With a brief time skip and another meeting ending in an argument, L can't help the strange feeling that's growing in his chest... and in his pants ;)

Masterlist

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

The meeting continues as planned, this time with Light in attendance, and the group discusses the remaining entries in the ‘Second Kira’s Notebook’. Avoiding Aoyama for the time being, Ryuzaki shifts the attention to the Tokyo Dome game mentioned within the page and proposes for Watari to cancel the event and let the police investigate. 

  You sit on the couch uncomfortably, unsure if it’s the strange feeling brewing in your chest from your encounter with Ryuzaki or simply a side effect of chasing down a mass murderer who might just be your friend. Light at your side, you keep your attention on the TV as best as you can given the circumstances.

  “In this note we can see the Second Kira mentioning Shinigami at the Tokyo Dome…”

  Mogi points to the note on the screen and the group nods in agreement, reviewing their own papers and documents for the upcoming events at the arena. Shifting slightly, you resolve to reach forward and grab one of the to-go coffee cups, deciding caffeine might be what you need at this moment. 

  “Here, let me–” Light leans forward before you can reach the table and picks up two sugar packets as well, “–you’ve had a long day of classes.”

  You watch him for a moment before sighing, “So have you though..”

“I guess that’s true… Just let me do this, okay?”

  Light laughs gently at how quickly you sit back and let him make your coffee; remembering the way you always drink it with two sugars. Deftly popping off the lid and pouring in the contents of the packets, Light lets steam emit from the cup before gently passing it to you. 

  “Careful, ok? Wouldn’t want our newest recruit getting out of the task force from some coffee burns.”

“Shut up..” you nudge Light gently enough to not spill the contents and lean down to whisper, “asshole” just out of earshot of his father. 

  Taking the cup and hovering your lips just above the paper rim, you blow the steam back a few times before taking a sip. Throughout the whole exchange Mogi and Matsuda have been conversing about the Tokyo Dome events schedule while Mr. Yagami and Aizawa discuss alerting the arena security and increasing the police presence in the area. Ryuzaki sits watching all three interactions taking place but his eyes linger on the way Light holds himself around you. 

  It makes rational sense, the both of you being well acquainted through years of working for his father, though the interaction leaves L shifting in his seat. The smile on Light’s face is natural, with creases in his eyes as he leans in to make another snarky remark in your ear; the simplicity of it all is what leaves such a sour taste he’s unable to recall in Ryuzaki’s mouth. 

  “Maybe now you won’t look half asleep during the meeting.”

  You take a long sip of coffee and gently kick Light’s shin from next to you on the hotel couch, eyes narrowed at his hushed joke.

  “I’m not tired.”

“Hmm? Then why do you look like that?”

  Like what?

  You move the cup from your lips and shiver as the warm beverage slides down your throat, eyebrows furrowed at Light in confusion before your gaze locks onto Ryuzaki’s. It’s a short connection before you break away feeling as ice had been dumped down your back; from the corner of your eyes you can tell he’s been staring and will continue to.

  “Let’s focus, ok?”

  Mr. Yagami stands and pats Mogi’s shoulder, taking control of the remote and now playing the entire diary’s image once more.

  “This,” he points to the Tokyo Dome phrase once more. “A shinigami? I believe this may be an important reference we cannot overlook. It’s obviously an omen regarding death.. But can we be certain Tokyo Dome is the target for this? Both districts of Aoyama and Shibuya were mentioned in this..”

  The group looks amongst themselves and you turn back to L, watching as he bites the edge of a hangnail on his index finger in thought. Aoyama and the notebooks weren’t supposed to be mentioned for the time being, not until Ryuzaki had deemed it absolutely necessary to inform the rest of the task force of the plan. 

  “For now, yes.” L sits forward and now reaches for a small plate covered in bite-sized fruit tarts “Watari, send a message to the head of the arena’s security to inform them of a potential terrorist attack.”

  Light sits up from the sofa and turns to the man “Shouldn’t we be investigating all of these claims, Ryuzaki? I agree the Tokyo Dome one is important, but it’s way too obvious… we can’t miss this opportunity to catch the Second Kira.”

  His tone is chill and sobering, and you lock eyes with L once more to confirm you were going to keep silent for the time being. 

  “I agree. If we let the Second Kira slip through our fingers and decimate an entire district it would be catastrophic.” Ryuzaki sits back and looks at the entire group, scanning each face. “We’re going to publish this diary on Sakura TV.”

  “What?” Mr. Yagami steps forward with an incredulous shock on his face, “If we publish this, people will react with pandemonium. They’ll live with fear!”

“No– it’s to give each of the local police departments enough time to increase their presence in their respective neighborhoods. Not to mention, give us enough liability to install additional measures.”

  Aizawa stares at L in suspicion. “Additional measures? What do you mean?”

“We can’t install additional CCTV without approval and reasonable suspicion of a threat,” L says, pointing to the television with a crumby index finger. “This is more than enough to justify that. No?”

  Matsuda ‘wows’ in awe at the reasoning while Light remains motionless on the couch thinking everything through. His demeanor is cold and isolated, radiating an energy that makes you subconsciously lean into Mogi who is sitting on the other side of you on the couch. 

  “That’s going to take a lot of manpower, Ryuzaki. Are we equipped to do all of that in such a short time?”

“We don’t have a choice,” you chime in, placing the coffee cup on the table. “If you’d like, I can try and reach out to some old internship colleagues working in Shibuya. Try and see if any additional detectives and officers can cover districts we find more at threat?”

  Mogi nods and begins mentally reviewing the list of people he knows who could also cover any gaps. “I agree. The faster we act on this, the better chance we have of catching them.”

  The group nods in agreement and breaks off into smaller teams in charge of alerting local police, contacting Sakura TV to run the diary, and relaying information back to the NPA about the current plan. Mr. Yagami steps out to a connecting room to make a few phone calls while Matsuda assists Mogi in creating a copy of the diary to send to the station. 

  “Shouldn’t we send someone to investigate these ourselves?”

  Light walks to where you and Ryuzaki have sorted all possible events at the Tokyo Dome, Aoyama, and Shibuya on the respective dates mentioned. You turn to L as do the other members, silently wondering the same thing.

  “Yes, I plan on asking one or two of you to go out and attend one of these events listed…” He continues, looking steadfast at Light, “I haven’t made up my mind quite yet though. Let’s work on the current task for the time being.”

  Light seems relatively unhappy with the response but doesn't push further; he walks back over to Aizawa and assists in drafting messages to different police quarters. You watch him work for a moment before turning back to Ryuzaki who continues sorting event paperwork next to you. 

  The proximity is nearly as close as you both were earlier in the evening, and there’s a slight tremble in your fingers at the increased heart rate in your ribs. He deftly moves and sorts papers back and forth with you, occasionally skimming your fingers with his own; the action is enough to make your ears hot. 

   This is ridiculous. I need to get out this weekend, have a drink, or something. He’s just L… he’s just a guy.

  “I’m going to need you to keep quiet for a bit longer if that’s ok.”

“Hmm? Oh, of course.”

  Continuing to work as naturally as possible, your voices are barely above a whisper to avoid unnecessary attention. The fresh scent of his laundry detergent invades your senses and is so intoxicating you nearly lean in closer to get a larger inhale. 

  Despite being able to work seamlessly with Light, working alongside Ryuzaki isn’t nearly as difficult as people had always alluded to. At nearly every NPA meeting and early police briefings in the Kira case, every detective you worked with scoffed at his name. ‘Unable to work with others’, ‘selfish and conceited’, ‘coldhearted and stoic’ were used more times than you can remember in regard to the man at your side.

  “Here, these may need to be corroborated with the Second Kira’s tapes for syntax.” Ryuzaki gently offers you a section from the diary and transcript from the tapes. “Are you able to complete that within a few days? Or is your course schedule going to get in the way…?”

  “No, I can complete it.”

  You take the evidence and organize it into a pile, admiring the man just inches away from you. Not an ounce of condescenion in his voice, he gives you tasks that genuinely need to be completed and he’s decided to trust you with; taking into account your class schedule, each assignment is neither tedious nor grueling. 

  This is nothing like the stories you had heard, and it’s enough to make you wonder if maybe those overworked detectives at previous meetings had been complaining about someone else. The L at your side is meticulous and competitive, but the way his eyes linger on your lips when waiting for confirmation is gentle and patient.

  “I’ll try and have it done in about two days. Is that ok Ryuzaki?”

“Yes,” he says, peeling his eyes up from your lips and blinking a few times before turning his attention to the documents in his own hands. “Yes, that should be perfect.”

  *******

Two weeks go by seamlessly and you fall into an easy routine between classes and Kira meetings. During lunch breaks, about twice a week, you meet with Light to discuss not only topics regarding the case, but also regular life as students and 20-something-year-olds. It’s as simple as you remember it being when you first started working with his father. The settings are friendly and casual, though less intimate and honest as you remember them being; taking note every time he begins to change his behavior and what exactly was the topic that seemed to be the trigger.

  Working with L has also gotten much easier over the days; Watari picks you up prior to the meeting nearly every day and Ryuzaki has memorized your schedule to call as soon as your seminar finishes to inquire about updates. You report nearly every move, answering when you’ve left home and returned, along with giving him updates on how your paperwork and investigation of Light have been progressing.

  On days when classes end early and you’re at home for lunch, you find yourself stopping by the bakery near your apartment and picking up a dozen earl gray cookies on the way to meetings; remembering the way Ryuzaki seems to perk up when he sees the familiar packaging.  

  It almost feels inappropriate how casual you both have begun to talk to each other; frequent texting that begins to stray just a bit further than completely work related, though they never become too personal. The texts and phone calls that vibrate from the phone L had given you come everyday like clockwork, even on the days where you weren’t scheduled to meet with Light. 

  The routine this Tuesday afternoon is the same as the past two weeks have been: calling Ryuzaki after your evening class has ended and casually relaying a brief update if you had bumped into Light. The wind is cooler today than it has been in months; gripping your jacket tighter, you balance the cardboard wrapping of the biscuits with one finger as you huddle into yourself for warmth. 

  Cars pass by in varying directions as you nod to the steady beat of music playing in your headphones, waiting at the intersection for the familiar black Mercedes to pull up. The leather briefcase slung over your shoulder makes an uncomfortable weight push into the muscle, but the feeling is numbed by another gust of wind and hair being pushed into your face.

  Before you can adjust the flyaways, a familiar car turns at the intersection and flicks on it’s fourway signals before pulling right up to where you stand. The window cracks. “Y/N, I’m here to escort you to headquarters.”

  You giggle at the same line Watari always repeats and slide off your headphones before opening the passenger door and sliding inside. The seat warmers already on, you gently place the box of cookies on the console and sling the heavy bag off your shoulder and onto the floor at your feet.

  “More cookies Y/N? You’re going to have a sweet tooth as large as Ryuzaki.”

“Nah,” you giggle and look out the window at the city lights that have flickered on being to blur by. “I don’t anyone could tie him for that.”

  ******

  “I’m just saying if Sakura TV wants to air that ‘pro-kira’ talk show, they should at least–” Matsuda stands with his arms out to Mogi as if his companion were the one he needed to convince to get his opinion delivered, before turning to you. “Oh– Y/N!”

  You slide your bag at your unspoken offical spot next to the sofa and place the small box of cookies on the table before shimmying out of your coat and smiling at the man. Watari helps you glide it off your other arm before retrieving a hanger and placing it in the small coat closet next to the door as you greet everyone in the room. 

  Ryuzaki is already sitting in his usual spot and watches you intently as you make your rounds before plopping onto the couch in between Mogi and Light; his gaze lingers on the small box of tea-flavor cookies. 

  “Did you ever take ‘Intro to Criminal Psyche’ in undergrad?”

  You turn to Light and raise an eyebrow. “Yea, why?”

“Mmm, I’ve been thinking of missing a few classes to work on the task force assignments a bit more. If you have the notes from when you took it, I’m sure that would suffice to replace the material I miss.”

  You laugh and nudge him, “Wow, ditching class? The number-one student I know has a rebellious side to him after all.”

  Light laughs, though the sound is partially empty of genuine humor. “Of course~, though if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll just have to actually attend.”

“Let me check my files,” you said, looking over at his dad, who is shaking his head with a sigh from the conversation, “If I still have them saved, you’re more than welcome.”

  The moment Light puts his hand on your shoulder in gratitude, the unfamiliar ugly feeling inside Ryuzaki’s gut begins to grow again. His chest is tight with a frustration he couldn’t quite pinpoint, as if the scene in front of him was wrong; similar to a movie spinoff of a book that wasn’t following the plot correctly. 

  Ryuzaki takes a breath, it doesn’t bother him, it shouldn’t bother him, before turning to the now total members present at the meeting. “Alright, now that Y/N is here, we can continue.”

  The group quiets down and Aizawa stands up, holding a variety of documents and reading through them in summary. “Well the DNA procurement is experiencing some delays; with nearly every available agent and officer dispatched to the Second Kira diary locations, the lab is running on a time lag.”

  You hum and turn to Watari to take a coffee from the tray he brings around, not bothering to reach for sugar as he’s been preparing it to the exact sweetness you prefer for nearly two weeks now. 

  “There’s also the issue of Shibuya and Aoyama.” Aizawa flips through to another page and  sighs, “We’ve been able to dispatch any colleagues Y/N knows around the Shibuya main entry points, but Aoyama is still more understaffed than I think it should be.”

  “Even if we agreed Tokyo Dome was the priority?” Matsuda questions.

  “Mr. Yagami, have all the CCTV we’ve requested been installed within the district's limits already?”

  Mr. Yagami turns to Ryuzaki and scans through a few documents before nodding, “Yes, they’ve been successfully placed in all the main access points and intersections you’ve requested. Local police also confirm increased presence there on the days leading up to and following our recommendation.”

  You turn to Ryuzaki and wonder the same question everyone has been considering for the past few weeks: who was he going to choose to send? Keeping quiet over the past two weeks wasn’t exactly easy, nearly every meeting contained Light protesting the decision to focus too heavily on the Tokyo Dome and pushing back even more when L refused to further explain his decision. 

  Ryuzaki takes a long moment to consider, idly placing sugar cube after sugar cube into his tea cup and not bothering to look up. A gentle breeze from the open windows pushes his hair to tickle his cheekbones and you instinctively shiver at the drop in temperature. Opening the window for fresh air was a common recurrence, but you couldn’t help but tense at the chill air that always nipped at your skin. Before Light can glance over and offer you his jacket, Watari walks over to the hotel linen closet to retrieve a throw blanket and passes it to you.

  Additional stocked bedding wasn’t unusual considering the amount of times members have spent the night in the suite, but the smaller plush throw blankets that seemed to perfectly warm you back up seemed to appear only about a week ago. 

  “I’ve made a decision on who I want to attend Aoyama, and I want it known that if either party feels too uncomfortable, we can renegotiate.”

  You lean in, similar to the rest of the members and hang on to every word. “Light, I’d like you to walk the streets of Aoyama on the date we’ve previously decided. Matsuda, please accompany him.”

  What?

  You stay frozen in confusion at Ryuzaki’s announcement while Mr. Yagami immediately stands up in protest.

  “I’m not sending my son to the front lines! First you accuse him of being Kira and now you want him to be killed by the Second one?”

“Dad–!” Light stands up to argue with his father, “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

  I’m not going?

  You look up to look at Ryuzaki who was glancing over at the two men arguing and making no effort to make eye contact with you. He sips his tea and stares indifferently at the spectacle in front of him, occasionally reaching down to grab a cookie you brought.

  Despite working with him on the Aoyama plan during meeting breaks in secret, confirming through texts that Light was still unaware of said plan, and even staying later nights to work out any kinks…. he didn’t pick you. 

  A pang of hurt and nearly anger washes over you as the decision sinks in. The two men arguing over the coffee table now a million worlds away, an ugly feeling tightens in your chest. Had you not proven you were skilled enough to take on a challenge like this? Was all he saw in you was an errand-girl who could watch Light on campus so he didn’t have to?

  You look up at Matsuda who was now trying to calm down the chief, and furrow your eyebrows into a sharp ‘V’ formation. No, even the role of babysitting Light was forfeited from you. It’s impossible to focus and the atmosphere is nearly suffocating as jealousy courses hot through your veins.

  “Alright, I’d like to further explain the plan before you two go any further,” says Ryuzaki, standing up and placing one foot on the coffee table for balance to grab the remote and flip to the details of Aoyama.

  “The diary entry in this event mentions meeting with friends on the streets of Aoyama, a needle in a haystack considering the population density.” He tilts his head to side and continues flipping. “However, there’s a strong chance it’ll come down to just two people: Kira and the Second Kira. At least one of which, we will assume is student age; high school or higher education.”

  “So this is another example of accusing Light? Because he fits the age group demographic?”

“Mr. Yagami, please hold all your questions until I’ve finished.”

  Ryuzaki takes a metal teaspoon between his lips while he talks, “Aoyama is a wealthy neighborhood and a fashion hotspot, most likely a place to be recommended by a young woman. Please keep this in mind while observing pairs of people.”

  Still annoyed by the plan you helped decide on, you can’t help but notice the strange thin smile on Light’s lips as he watches the presentation unfold. Despite his father trying his hardest to prove his innocence, Light doesn’t seem the least bit stressed by the accusation; he’s nearly humming with excitement while you sulk on the sofa. 

  “Alright Light! Just you and me doing some fieldwork, sounds like it’ll be fun!”

Aizawa smacks Matsuda on the side of the head. “This isn’t a field trip to go shopping and eat at cafes! Both you and Light are placing your lives on the line.”

  Matsuda deflates back onto the mirroring couch in defeat while Mr. Yagami remains staring between his son and Ryuzaki.

  “Are you sure about this? Light– I don't want him to make you look more guilty when you’re not.”

“Then let me go! If I can find the Second Kira– it’ll only help me clear my name.”

  Light’s tone is demanding despite pleading with his father for approval in attending the mission. Even while slightly pissed off, you recognize it to be the same uncomfortable aura from your first lunch ‘date’ a few weeks ago. 

  No notebooks…?

  Remembering the aspect of ‘notebooks’ being an important aspect of revealing the Second Kira, you turn to Ryuzaki who has now finally returned eye contact. Scrunching your brows in confusion at his lack of complete clarity, L gives a short nod ‘no’ before returning his attention back to the father-son duo.

“Is this plan alright with everyone? Anyone not going to Aoyama will have different monitoring tasks during these events so please ensure your availability.”

  Mogi and Aizawa nod as Mr. Yagami sits back down in defeat and Light gives a solid statement of his own approval. Matsuda hums in excitement across from you and you sit on the couch with arms crossed and scowling into the space of the corner of the room. 

  “Alright then, let’s continue with some specifics for how this will all play out.”

  *********

  A sour taste remains in your mouth for the rest of the meeting as you listen to the plan you helped come up with be delegated to other members. Aizawa and you will be in charge of monitoring CCTV at the headquarters alongside Ryuzaki while Mogi and Mr. Yagami are on standby duty at Sakura TV in case of a break through.

  At the usual late hour, the meeting is concluded and you take your time packing up your things as members slowly trickle home. Matsuda stretches and holds the door open for the Yagamis before exiting and leaving you in the room with L and Watari.

  “Ryuzaki… can I speak with you?”

  L looks up from handing Watari his empty teacup and nods once, “I assumed you wanted to speak, you usually pack up much quicker most evenings.”

  Any other time the comment might’ve made your heart rate pick up at his attentiveness to your habits, but this time your heart remains heavy in your chest. Following him into the bedroom as usual, when the door clicks shut the only thing you can do is stand awkwardly in silence.

  Hands wet with sweat, you tug at the straps of your briefcase bag and wondering where to even begin.

  “Something is bothering you. I can tell.”

  Ryuzaki leans against the side of the bedframe casually and stares at your face patiently, showing no signs of fatigue despite the late hour. 

  You sigh once and take a step forward. “Why didn’t you choose me for Aoyama?”

  L watches you for an additional second and closes his eyes for a moment. “I figured that's what you were gonna ask.”

“So… why didn’t you?”

  Ryuzaki shrugs and looks off to the messy desk at the side of the room, twitching once as the analog clock on the wall ticks away in the deafening silence.

  “I figured Light and Matsuda were the best for the task. That’s it.”

  That’s it?

  You grip your bag tighter, sinking your nails into the leather, and can feel the anger from earlier beginning to seep out, “What do you mean? Haven’t I worked hard to prove you can trust me? That I would be great for this position?”

“Of course I trust you, but that has nothing to do with this.”

  You furrow your brows, growing impatient as he speaks to you as if it were obvious. “What do you mean? I’ve been helping you come up with this plan and been watching Light this whole time… so why is it different?”

“Did you feel entitled to it? Is that why you’re upset?”

  You wince and take a step back, embarrassment mixing into the defensive that began building.

  Ryuzaki watches your expression and continues, “Matsuda will do just fine watching Light, I’ve already spoken to him privately about it. The other members on this task force are accomplished and determined. Just because you’ve been a great help in conducting this plan doesn’t mean you’re the best person to execute it.”

  Your throat feels tight as his words, and humiliation begins to sink in as he speaks. 

  Of course, other members are veterans at this and you’re still under the position of an ‘intern’ for Mr. Yagami. It’s fucking embarrassing how worked up I’ve become…

  “You could’ve let me know ahead of time…when we were planning this earlier…”

  Ryuzaki turns back to you, an awkward feeling forming in chest at seeing your dejected face turn away from him.

  “Maybe it’s foolish that I was already planning on going but–”

“-- you would’ve thrown the same fit you threw earlier. Announcement of my decision doesn’t mean anything.”

  The words are harsh. Harsher than Ryuzaki means for them to come out as he internally struggles with this uncomfortable feeling and he regrets it the moment they leave his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger, rejection, and embarrassment; the way you scoff hurts him deeply considering the array of ugly emotions are directed at him. 

  “Right. Whatever..” you spin on your heel and open the door to finish the conversation. “Thanks for the clarification.”

  The words are spit with venom through gritted teeth and you don’t bother turning around to say goodbye. Watari watches the anger seethe off you and makes no effort to create conversation as he follows you out the hotel door and down the lobby to the parking lot. 

  If you weren’t getting chauffeured by Ryuzaki’s right hand man, hot angry tears would have escaped your eyes, an aggravated scream would leave your lips, and a few punches to an empty car seat cushion may have taken place. 

  As the car pulls out of the lot, you look out the glass and notice the silhouette of Ryuzaki peering from behind the hotel window curtain before you turn your head the other way. Watari makes no effort to speak and doesn’t protest when you dig your headphones out of your bag and blast music in your ears. 

**************

4am - 4 hours after the meeting ended.

Ryuzaki POV

  He should’ve worded that differently. He knows, she knows, Watari even knows it judging on the somber and judgmental look he shot Ryuzaki after returning from dropping you home. It’s not like he wanted to come off as an asshole, he usually did to most people, but the fact he came off that way to you was what made this guilt so uncomfortable in his gut. 

  Ryuzaki lets out a long sigh and leans back in the office chair at the desk in the hotel bedroom, not bothering to sleep. One more shade of purple under his eyes won’t be noticed and L takes this moment to bite at his cuticles in thought.

  Why hadn’t he just given you the task for Aoyama?

  You had proved yourself more useful than half the people he’s had the displeasure of working with. Patient with his awkward attitude, intelligent with great deductive skills, loyal to his recommendation despite making you observe your ‘friend’ for signs of being Kira, and absolutely beauti-

  Ryuzaki snaps his head to the side and rejects the thought before it forms. On a professional level it should’ve been you. You’ve already done so much to help in the Aoyama plan, more so than he could casually give you praise for, and your ability to follow Light and intuition with his behavior made you the perfect candidate. So why didn’t he?

  L stands up from the desk and begins to walk aimlessly around his room in the moonlight that seeped in from the windows. Instead of giving you the chance to apply yourself and excel with a perfect opportunity, he has you scheduled to sit in a dark room with him and another colleague watching CCTV for hours on end. 

  The nasty and ugly part of him was glad when he had made that decision, keeping you away from the front line despite going to school with his number one suspect— this time you could be far away from Light. Safe… with him. Why did he even want that?

  Ryuzaki sits on the edge of his hotel bed and shakes his head before looking around the room for a plate of desserts that might be lingering. Of course he knew why he didn’t personally want you prancing the streets of Aoyama with Light. The fact it meant you would be at risk of being killed by the Second Kira, who may not need a name to murder, OR the fact it meant you would be spending the whole day walking around cute cafes and boutiques with Light while Ryuzaki was forced to watch it all on CCTV in multiple angles for multiple hours. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

  Pushing those thoughts back down again, completely inappropriate given the situation, he pulls out his cell phone and runs his fingers down the sides in thought. He should apologize. He knows it, and he also knows you would pretend to be fine during the meeting tomorrow despite actually being pissed off at him. Rightfully so.

  Letting out a sigh of defeat, Ryuzaki powers it on and open up your contact and waiting a beat before clicking the dial button and leaning further onto the edge of the bed.

  He’s not sure you’re even going to answer until the line rings for a fourth time and a half asleep “huhhh?” rings out from the other end. 

  Ryuzaki pauses immediately at the tone, not quite a groan but a light and airy moan escapes your lips into the receiver at your sleepy state. L stands motionless at the tone and immediately begins to regret calling at this late hour when his body begins to react against every logical will his brain offers.

  “Hello?”

  Shit. He realizes he’s taking too long to answer and resolves to issuing a short apology.

  “Y/N? It’s L... I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Ohhhh Ryuzakiii”

  L swallows hard at the airy tone you use, knowing you have no idea what you actually sound like considering it’s nearly 4:30 in the morning. His breath is labored as he clenches the phone in his hand, nearly forgetting the whole reason he was calling anyways. 

  “Yes, I’d like to apologize for my words earlier this evening. Though we can discuss this.. Tomorrow.”

“Hmm” There’s the sound of you shuffling on the other end before you continue and yawn in between every other word, “Ohhhh please don’t be mad.. I didn’t.. Mean to be.. A bitch…please– Ryuzaki”

  Fuck. FUCK.

  Even the sound of his fake name leaving your lips in that tone was enough to make him wince at the familiar feeling growing in his jeans. He needed to end this call. Now. 

  “No, I’m not mad. Please get some sleep and I apologize again… for calling this late.”

  Ryuzaki ends the call and throws the phone on the bed as if the metal had been burning his hand the entire time. 

  This feeling was wrong, so. Fucking. Wrong.

  He doesn’t need to look down to know what’s happening, being a young man in 20s he’s quite familiar with the feeling, but he peers down anyway. The fabric around the fly of his baggy jeans was uncomfortably tight and his cock pushed against the confines of his boxers and denim, throbbing slightly in arousal. 

  Ryuzaki lets out a shaky breath and thinks a million different thoughts at once, a majority of them full of self loathing and frustration. He was your boss for fuck’s sake. You both had admitted your trust in one another and he would hate himself for the rest of his life if you thought the only reason he kept you around was to sexually gratify him.

  He had been around countless female agents and detectives who had been bullied or pulled out of the workforce because of menial relationships. Even Naomi had left the FBI upon getting married. If you ever found out that he was hard at just the sound of your sleepy and disheveled voice, you would probably be disgusted and offended and leave the task force; the very prospect of that being the last thing he wants considering your talent.

  A wince escapes his lips when his cock throbs at the image of you now present in his head, and every rational brain cell within his skull is screaming at him to change his thoughts and let himself get soft. But he can’t. Not with the way your lips, coated in that honey flavored chapstick, or maybe lip gloss, you always apply, is painted clearly in his head. The way those very same lips would look around the base of his co-

  NO.

  Ryuzaki grips the comforter beneath him and folds into himself slightly as his erection painfully begs for some sort of friction to satisfy it. ‘It’s an abuse of a position of power’ is what the world famous detective portion of his brain is saying, while the 20-something-year-old portion of his brain is remembering what the swell of your ass looks like when you bend over the couch armrest to pick up fallen documents. 

  Shit… 

  He can feel all logical rationale seeping out of him when twitching fingers move to undo the button of his jeans and let down the zipper of his fly to just apply a little relief. Realistically, you might be interested too.

  The thought makes Ryuzaki bite his lip in disgust while his hands betray his brain and move to shimmy the fabric of his jeans to his mid thigh and let his erection stand up in his boxers. The constant replies to all his messages, working late evenings with him, and brushing fingertips more times than a casual explanation could allow, even bringing him those delicious cookies when you realized how much he liked them. 

   You never did that for Light.

  “Shit..”

  Ryuzaki sighs in a partially drunk state while he stares at the patch of pre cum seeping through the flimsy fabric of his boxers, his cock aching for relief. The image of you with Light feeds the ugly part of him he didn’t even know had existed; despite knowing you for around a month, the idea of you being close with Light brings an unexplainable frustration to his mind.

  While being able to imagine Light’s smug face is nearly enough to soften his erection, the sound of your voice airily moaning his fake name comes to mind once more, and the idea of what it would sound like to hear you say ‘Lawliet’ in that same tone, makes his cock ache even more than he thought possible.

  Ryuzaki’s had erections before during your time at the task force, ones that occurred when he happened to fall sleep and woke up with some light morning wood. But this was different. Fingertips pinching the elastic of his waistband, he tugs the fabric down to join his jeans at his mid thigh; a wince escapes his lips at the change in temperature on his dick. 

  A slight happy trail going down his navel that extended into a full bush from lack of need to trim for anybody, his cock hovers upright with the angry dark pink tip leaking pre-cum profusely. This wasn’t a casual boner he was popping, it was an ugly carnal desire L had written off from having due to his career and work life. Yet sitting on the edge of the bed, all rationale finally seeps out of him.

  It must due to be the lack of blood flow to his brain that makes Ryuzaki bring his palm to his mouth to spit into the flesh a few times before coating his shaft in a mix of pre-cum and saliva. The sensation causes a slight groan to escape and his eyebrows to furrow in focus as he spends an extra second massaging the tip. 

  Giving a few extra pumps to warm up, he begins to slide his hand up and down the shaft with just the amount of tension he likes. The feeling pairs nicely with the image of you in his head, would you jerk him off like this? Or would you want to put those pretty lips to use on his cock while your hands worked on his shaft?

  Balls tightening at the mere image, his hips jerk forward into his hand as his body betrayed his brain and grew hornier at the thoughts. What color bra did you always wear? A week ago you accidentally wore a pretty light blue one under your white shirt… did you know he could see it? What did your tits look like when you take it off?

  “Nngh… oh f-fuck..”

  L swallows thickly and quickens the pace before using his other hand to lift his shirt so he could lean over and spit on his cock once more before taking the fabric in his teeth. His fingers massage the tip before tugging on the skin of his shaft and applying pressure to the enlarged vein that ran on the underside of cock, causing a few groans to leave his mouth.

  And what if you did want him back? Would you let him sit under your pretty pussy while you rode his face? Let him eat you out like he had been thinking about… if you tasted even sweeter than he was imagining.

  Hips shuddering and balls aching with a heavy feeling, that recognizable coil begins to grow in his abdomen as he increases the speed. Sweat dripping down his brow, he nearly coughs when the image of you letting him fuck you crosses his vision. 

  Splayed out all pretty and moaning his name. His real name. Or maybe riding him in this very bed while he sucks bruises only he will be able to see onto those perfect pretty tits of yours.

  “Fuck.. Y/N… gonna..”

  He increases the speed of his hand and can see the image now in a thousand different ways. Him cumming in your mouth, on your face, on your tits, in your hand, in your cunt and then watching it leak out…

  FUCK

  Ryuzaki tugs a few extra times and exhales sharply when hot ropes of semen begin to pour down his hand and even escape on the carpet below. Rubbing his cock through his orgasm, he lays back on the bed with an exasperating feeling as he catches his breath. 

  Hot cum on his hand, thighs, and now floor, the post-nut clarity is a disgusting feeling that washes over him. All the images and ways he’s tried so damn hard not to see you in, make him feel no better than a dog with no respect when that’s all you’ve shown him.

  Of course it’s more than your body that L is attracted to, but the physical and creepy nature of masturbating to you makes him shiver uncomfortably as a line that shouldn’t have been crossed now has. With one more sigh and mentally shelving the images his brain had conjured up, Ryuzaki sits up and reaches for a couple of tissues on the nightstand.

  Sopping up all the remnant cum on his hands, thighs, and carpet, he tosses the tissues into the trash and tucks himself back into his boxers and jeans. 

  Tomorrow…

  Ryuzaki doesn’t want to even begin to consider how he would face you tomorrow, so he decides not to think about it. It was a one time thing, and now that it’s out of his system he should be free from the hypnotic spell you seem to have placed him under. With a sigh, he decides to head into the ensuite bathroom to wash away the physical evidence of his perverted actions and clear his head before facing you in yet another meeting tomorrow. One where you would be fully awake, and he could properly apologize.

part 3 is doneeee

ty so much for your patience with this series! holidays and exams are crazy but im so excited to keep writing this (hehe more nsfw to come, but defrosting methodical L into a horny pining man takes some time)

likes/comments/reblogs are appreciated & let me know if you wanna be on the taglist

-oatmeal ╰(´︶`)╯♡

Tags: @lechatparle24 @irissfoot @iheteeaifs

[cherry-pop-elf]

Detox Day

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: It had been a long day of work, and your poor Hubby needed to detox a little. So, what better way than to have his loving partner help him out? First to put your son to bed, and remind him he deserves some self care

Warnings: 18+, So much fluff, gentle sex, domestic fluff, oral (male reviving) foot massages, kinda foot fetishy? This fic is very fluffy and playful, technical fem doming? ((George is EXTRA submissive in this one. Love me a man that whimpers. Mm))

“Dad’s home-!” Little Freddy shouted, the moment he heard the door open. Poor George hardly got a foot through said door, before Junior jumped onto his leg. Holding on for dear life, as if George would fade into a mist. Just never wanting to let go.

Despite being so bone dry tried, he just couldn’t resist his baby boy. He would take his dress suit jacket off, and hang it, before yanking his son into the air. Holding him high, and making him laugh. Squeals of pure delight filled the air, before he was attacked in kisses. Being held back just as tightly, as you watched.

“How was the shop-?” You asked, as you finished up dinner. Normally you helped out, of course. But George wanted to make sure Freddy had a stable life. Even as a baby, George made sure to have him in a sling around him. With ear protection, of course, while working in the shop. Not wanting to have a strained relationship. Much like what happened with his own parents. Seven kids isn’t as stable as people think. He wanted to make sure little junior always had a parent to love him deeply. When Freddy starts Hogwarts, that’s when you’ll return. That’s a promise.

<OH THE STORIES I HAVE TO SHARE WITH YOU> He would sign, so that Freddy didn’t notice, as he was busy hugging his father. Sounded, ironically, like he had himself a very bad day. One for little ears to not bear. As much as he didn’t want Junior to be naive to the world, he still needed a childhood just as much.

“Now come on over to dinner, you two. Still warm.” You gently encouraged, as Freddy was soon climbing onto his father’s shoulders. Quick to sit on them, and rest his head on the older man’s. Oh how identical they were. The same wild hair, same little smile. You loved them so much. Couldn’t stop yourself from joining in with the grins, as you rounded them up for a much needed meal.

For once, George had actually stayed rather quiet. That concerned you, as you ate. The meal wasn’t silent, however. Junior was more than happy to fill the quiet. Talking about the day he had with you. George was smiling at each word, but you could read him like a book. He was tired. So very tired. Not a need for sleep tired. That defeated tired. Suppose the weight of Fred no longer being in the shop was weighing on him again. His other half, if you will, no longer there for support. He felt alone, and tried to drown himself in work again. Guess you’ll need to fix that, won’t you?

“And then and then-“ But a yawn was quick to cut the little boy off. Poor thing talked himself tired again. A habit he’s developed. Just so full of energy. “Georgie, can you clean up while I put Freddy to beddy?” Was asked, as you hoisted the tot in the air. He whined, with the normal complaints of not being sleepy.

“Sure thing, love. Big boys need lots of rest.” George was quick to sooth. A gentle kiss to the little boys temple, and a squeeze to his little hand. “Love you, Junior.” He added, as your little boy smooshed his cheek against George’s. Reminded you so much of when Fred and George often did that. As a mock facade of ‘cute innocent little boys that could do no wrong.’ You don’t know how he picked up the habit, but a sneaking suspicion that there was a ghost at WWW wasn’t out of your mind.

“Love you to, Daddy.” He yawned, as you would bring the little boy to your chest. Humming away, as you escorted him to his bedroom. Rich in all that he loved. Tucked into bed he went, with his favorite little toy. A dragon plush from his uncle Charlie. Still smelled like soot, and that’s what soothed your tike. Snuggled in his grandmas quilts, and listening to you read him a bedtime story.

George would happily watch, as Junior gave him a sleepy wave. Along with a waving paw from the little dragon. George returned it, and gave a little finger wave to the dragon as well. Making sure they were both greeted. Seemed seeing him at the door way was what helped sooth Freddy to sleep. Out like a light, with his father quick to kiss his head. Doing his best to still be as involved in his life as he could. Even when so horribly tired. So much as just being physically there does wonders.

The door would be closed, with his night lights set, before George finally let himself drop his facade. The age in his face there in a blink. The sag, the exhaustion, the pale cheeks, everything seemed to just scream defeat. He learned to hide his emotions very well, after the war. Broke your heart to know it. He was just so damn drained.

“Go and sit down. I’ll grab you a drink, and you can tell me about your day.” You offered, with a kiss to his cheek. Earned you a crooked smile, as that sounded delightful to him. To just take a minute to let it all soak in. Get his muscles undone.

Into the comfortable arm chair he went. Just leaning back into it, and letting himself melt for a moment. Get off his exhausted feet, and breathe. Your poor hubby. Some Fire Whiskey is needed, and many other little TLC’s.

You would return with the glass, and bottle, to be placed on the table next to him. Along came a kiss to his cheek, before you were sitting at his feet. Your head in his lap, as you hugged his legs. Showing all your attention was on him. Making sure he knew you were there.

“Where do I even start-?” He groaned, as he would take the drink in one swift swallow. The way he rubbed his temples told you it all. A rough day at the shop. Your poor hubby. Not a day where he could just be playful and himself. A bullshit day of bullshit and more bullshit.

He would soon ramble about the day, as he poured another glass. Talking on about the parents, as you would work on untying his shoes. Placing them aside, and smiling to yourself. One sock being orange with purple stripes, and the other purple with orange polka dots. Never change, George. Never change.

“Then she asked for a refund. She asked for a refund, on a love potion, because the person she gave it to didn’t fall in love with her. It made sense, until she explained that he used it as perfume. That’s not how it works, and for the love of Merlin-“ He rambled on, as you would soon massage at his aching feet.

“Damn that feels good-“ He groaned, as he leaned back. Whatever else he was trying to say was forgotten. Just the comfort of being pampered. Not something he was used to. He’s normally the one drowning you in affection. So, you pulled a sneaky. You pampered him because it made you feel better. Get rekt.

“Poor baby. I can feel the blisters already. Such a hard working man. Even with magic, you just have to keep busy.” You tsked, playfully, as you gave his foot a hug. Making him playfully push at your cheek with the socked appendage.

“Got a thing for feet or something, you freak?” He teases on, as you gave a playful bite at his foot. “Freak of nature-“ He scoffed, but you both laughed. Hypocrite he was. Have to be a weirdo to think you could become one of the richest men in the Gaelic isles from a joke shop. Then prove yourself right.

“You are to be blamed for it all.” You egged on, before you would snuggled between his legs. Your chin on his chair, and looking up at him. So much love and devotion, returned in your own gesture. Those big brown eyes. You could stare into them forever. So full of spark, even after so many years. They were still so full. Despite it all, he was alive. Both physically, and mentally.

“Gonna just stare at me all night? Not complaining-“ He would smirk, as he would sway his cup of whiskey. A satisfying buzz on his tongue, as you were happy he was relaxing. He needed it, and you were going to make sure he would get some good sleep tonight.

With a grab of your wand, you gave it a flick. Casted a silencing charm, and an alert charm as well. In case Freddy needed either of you, but also warn you so you don’t traumatize him with what you were about to do.

“I have other things in mind.” You winked, as he rose a brow. With the wand set aside, as you would kissed his thigh. Taunting him, as you would rub at his calves. Getting him to give a blissful hum, as he closed his eyes. Just enjoying being touched.

Just something slow, and gentle. That’s what he needed. He deserved it. To relax, and for you to pamper him. You both loved it. To flip the script, and enjoy each other’s company. To hear each others whispers, and blissful sighs.

“Let’s get you more comfortable.” You whispered, before starting to unzip his dress pants. The sigh of relief he gave, when you pulled them down, was just heaven to your ears. To admire the hard on forming in the orange fabric. You couldn’t help but kiss it, and appreciate it. The simple act of being aroused by someone he loved so much.

“Such a tease.” He muttered, as he enjoyed another lazy sip. Wasn’t something he normally did. Made him feel like some Head Of The House bullshit he hated. As being in a family of seven siblings, everyone played a roll. There was no real ‘boss’ of the family. Molly more so was the leader, than any boss. He hated the idea of hierarchy, but he knew you genuinely enjoyed these moments. Communication is sexy.

“Learned it from the best.” You winked, as he rolled his eyes. <SARCASTIC BITCH> He signed. Well, more so said Female Dog. Even with sign language, he was cheeky. You retaliated with a flip off. “Ah, how educated of you. I would think you were a pure blooded noble~” He fanned himself, making you snort into his thigh.

“Let me be sexy, for like two seconds-!” You begged, between your snorts. That had him laugh even more. It was hard to take things to serious, and that was wonderful. Most of the time. Just to be at a point that it’s just laughter, instead of awkward noises and averting eyes.

“Ok ok, be sexy. Go-“ He finger gunned, with a wink. That had you slap his thigh. “Gregory, please-!” Was just more laughter, as you tried to get back in the mood. Even if you couldn’t, the love of laughter was all that mattered. You loved how he found a way to make you laugh, no matter what. It was wonderful.

“Alright, I yield. Go on ahead. Be sexy.” He would fight his giggles, with another sip from his whiskey. Savoring the flavor, as to try and calm himself down. Along with not he sloshed, because he damn well wanted to enjoy the moment.

With your breathe caught, and tears wiped away, you were finally able to return to the prize. Had you biting your lip, as you admired it. After so many times, you still couldn’t help but get excited to. No matter the years.

You would tug down his underwear, and watched it spring to life. The groan of relief was sending a thrill down your spine, as he was able to get the relief of the air on his exposed cock. Chilling, but needed from the heat of the whiskey in his system.

“Now time for my drink.” You grinned, as you kissed the tip of his cock. A few gentle kisses down it, as it throbbed against your lips. Excited to be given attention. You were more than happy to give him such. Little kisses, up and down his dick. Just taking it easy, as he enjoyed the view.

“Wonder if I’ll be able to taste that whiskey….” You absentmindedly muttered, before you run your tongue up the side. That got him to shiver, as he would hold onto the chair. Just letting you take full control, as he enjoyed the buzz in his chest and groin.

He was just so cute. How his freckles looked like stars, on those roses cheeks. The way his eyelids fluttered, when you licked over his tip. How he bit his lip, when you gave attention to his balls. He had so many beautiful expressions. Who could resist a submissive man?

“Please…..” He almost whimpered, as he stayed a good boy. Keeping his hands firm on the arm rests, and letting you remain in charge. Good boys deserved rewards, and rewards were given to those good boys.

The head of his cock would slip past your lips, and he moaned in relief. The heat of his cock in your mouth was exciting, as his need for you was impossible to hide. How his heart was racing in your mouth, as you took more down.

“Fuck….Fuck that feels good-“ He moaned for you, as you looked up to him. How his face was even more flushed, and how his nose did its cute little scrunch. Oh how you loved when his nose would speak for him. Was just an adorable thing. Had you smile, as you would bob your head. Pulling out more moans of pleasure.

It was simple, like that. It didn’t always have to be complex. Nor hot and steamy. Sometimes, you just wanted to pamper your partner. Make love. Remind them how much you love them. Course, it’s also quite the bonus to hear all the sounds they made. Not distracted by the heat of the moment. All for you to enjoy.

After a while, you could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth. Had your eyes look up, and you could see the way he was trying to hold back. The way he was panting, with his pretty lips parted. His hair slightly a mess, and his eyes closed. Such beautiful lashes he had. Ever fluttering, when your rubbed your tongue over a vain.

He was close, and you wanted him to spill. Spill into your mouth, and watch him whimper your name. To breathe heavy, and drool ever so slightly. To just let all that tension leave his body, as you would take good care of him. Make sure he was cozy, and relaxed.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ His whimpers answered your prayers, as you would take him deep down your throat. Savoring the feeling, as his cock was spurting down it. Oh his moans were just the trumpets of heaven. How his chest heaved, and his stomach clenched. The way his head rolled back, and his mouth opened wider. You didn’t need to get off. That was your reward. A whimpering man.

With his high coming down, you would pull off from his cock. Happy to have swallowed it all, and even gave the tip a little peck. As a thanks. Thanks for giving you such a beautiful sight.

“That hit the spot.” He sighed, as you stood up. A gentle hand to brush his hair aside, as he kissed his cheek. Right on the scar, from when he lost his ear. A reminder you loved all of him. Every, last, inch.

“I better return the favor-“ He said, but you poked his nose. “In the morning, hm? Time for you to get some needed sleep.” You would hush, with another kiss to his cheek. That got a whine of protest, but he knew he was a bit tipsy. Best to enjoy the buzz, instead of risking a hang over.

With his pants and underwear taken off, he would strip off the rest of his exhausted clothes. Nothing a Accio for his sleep wear couldn’t fix. Into those comfy pajamas bottoms, and old shirts that once belonged to his older siblings.

The two of you would quickly give one last check to Freddy, seeing him peacefully asleep, before returning to your own bedroom. To go through your own sleep routine, before snuggling close. Yourself in one of his stolen shirts. Nothing more comfortable than that.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked, as he would play with your hair. “Exist.” You smirked, before he rolled his eyes. Regardless, those words meant a lot. It’s been such a burden to be a lonely twin, but you’ve made it easier. You made him alive.

“Love you, so much, jellybean.” He would give you a gentle kiss, and you returned it. Tucked under his chin you went, as he hugged you tighter. A squeeze of reassurance, as the sounds of late night Diagon soothed you both to sleep.

A simple night, but those were cherished all the same.

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (13)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: Expect daily updates until the story is done.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 12

- Next part: 14

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The Dragonpit is alive with the unmistakable roars and calls of dragons, the air thick with the scent of charred flesh and the earthy smell of caves below. You, the Prince of Dragonstone, circle high above on Silverwing, your gaze fixed on the large domed structure below. As you descend, the faint shapes of your sons and their half-uncles grow clearer.

Jacaerys and Lucerys are near Vermax and Arrax, offering the young dragons chunks of meat. The boys’ laughter echoes through the pit, a rare sound of joy in these troubled times. Nearby, Aegon, the eldest of Viserys and Alicent’s children, watches his dragon, Sunfyre, with a detached interest, his eyes more on his nephews than his beast.

Aemond stands apart from them all, a loneliness clinging to him like a shadow. His eyes flick between the dragons and the older boys, a longing so stark it almost cuts through the distance. It is a sight that tightens something in your chest, but before you can give it more thought, a movement from your sons catches your eye.

Jace and Luke exchange glances, their faces lit with mischief. A few whispered words later, a stable boy wheels out a wooden cart. Perched on it, adorned with crude, makeshift wings, is a pig—a mockery, a cruel jest. The "Pink Dread," they call it.

“Here you go, Aemond,” Jace announces with a grin. “Your very own dragon.”

Aemond’s face turns scarlet, a mix of shame and fury. “You think this is funny?” he spits, his small hands curling into fists. The other boys snicker, even Aegon’s mouth twitches into a half-smile.

“You don’t have a dragon because you’re not a true Targaryen,” Jace continues, his voice taking on a mocking lilt. “Our father is a dragon, our mother a dragon, but you? What are you?”

The words hang in the air like a poised dagger, and in that moment, you see Aemond snap. He launches himself at Jace, fists flailing, the smaller boy’s speed taking your son by surprise. They tumble to the ground, a blur of limbs and angry shouts. Lucerys tries to pull Aemond off his brother, but Aemond’s rage is wild, untamed, and he shoves Luke away, his eyes burning with a desperate fury.

Aegon stands back, arms crossed, watching the scuffle with a mix of amusement and boredom. It’s only when he sees Lucerys getting pushed that he steps forward, his smirk dropping. “Enough, Aemond,” he says, voice sharp, but it’s too late—the fight has already spiraled out of control.

It’s then that you make your entrance. Silverwing’s massive form swoops down over the pit, her shadow casting a dark blanket over the scene. She lands with a thunderous impact, the ground trembling beneath her weight, and the boys scatter like leaves before a storm.

You dismount, your boots hitting the ground with a solid thud, and your eyes, dark with disapproval, sweep over them. “What is this madness?” Your voice, though not raised, carries the full weight of your authority, and the boys freeze.

You move toward Jace and Aemond, still tangled on the ground. With a swift motion, you pull Aemond away, lifting him to his feet with a firm grip on his shoulder. Jace scrambles up, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, his eyes wary as he meets your gaze.

“A prince does not behave like a common brawler,” you say, your tone cold. “Nor does he taunt his kin like a street urchin.” Your eyes shift to Jace, your voice softening but still firm. “Words have power, Jacaerys. Do not use them to wound your own blood.”

Jace’s head lowers, his face flushed with shame. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” you interrupt, “but you will think before you speak next time.”

You turn your attention to Aemond, who stands stiffly beside you, his small frame trembling with barely suppressed emotion. His eyes, a mirror of the Targaryen fire, meet yours, and you see the pain and anger there. “Aemond,” you say, your voice gentler now, “having a dragon does not make you a true Targaryen. It is the blood in your veins, the strength in your heart, and the courage to face whatever comes your way.”

Aemond’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes dropping to the ground. “But I don’t have one,” he murmurs, the words almost lost in the vast space of the Dragonpit. “Not like them.”

You crouch down, bringing yourself to his level, your hand resting on his shoulder. “You will,” you assure him, your voice firm. “And when the time comes, your bond with your dragon will be stronger for the wait. Do not let their words make you forget who you are.”

Aemond nods, his jaw still clenched, but there’s a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. You straighten, turning back to the other boys. “And you will all treat each other with respect,” you command, your gaze sweeping over them. “You are family, and you will need each other in the days to come.”

With that, you mount Silverwing once more, her silver scales shimmering in the dim light of the pit. “Return to your mothers,” you tell them, your voice carrying across the distance as you take to the sky. Below, the boys watch as you rise, a reminder of the power and legacy that runs through their veins.

As Silverwing ascends, the wind whipping past you, you glance back down at the shrinking forms of your children and their half-uncles. The weight of what is to come presses heavy on your shoulders, but for now, at least, the skirmish is over, and the fires of their tempers have been tempered—if only for a time.

The door to your chambers swings open with a soft creak as you step inside, the cool air of the Red Keep a welcome contrast to the heated anomasity that still lingers from the Dragonpit. Rhaenyra is seated by the window, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. She looks up, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern as she sees your face.

“What’s happened?” she asks, setting aside the book she’s been reading. Her voice is calm, but you can sense the undercurrent of anxiety. It’s a tone you’ve grown used to, living in the shadow of your father’s choices and the precarious balance of your family’s position.

You take a deep breath, crossing the room to stand before her. “There was an incident in the Dragonpit,” you begin, your voice steady but weary. “Our sons and their half-uncles got into a scuffle.”

Her brow furrows, and she rises, her eyes searching yours. “Are they hurt?”

“Nothing serious,” you reassure her, though the memory of the boys’ clash flashes behind your eyes. “Jace and Luke were taunting Aemond. They brought out that pig—‘The Pink Dread’—and made a mockery of him.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen, her lips pressing into a thin line. “They did what?” There’s anger there, protective and fierce, but you hold up a hand.

“They’re children, Rhaenyra. Foolish and unthinking,” you say, though your tone carries its own frustration. “But I won’t have them tearing each other apart, especially not now.”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping as she reaches out to touch your arm. “And Aemond?”

“He fought back,” you admit, a trace of admiration for the boy’s spirit despite the situation. “He feels out of place, without a dragon of his own, and Jace’s words struck deep. He thinks it makes him less of a Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault.” Her voice drops, a whisper of frustration mingled with sorrow. “It’s Viserys. He should have known this would happen, bringing us all under one roof again. It’s like throwing oil on a fire.”

You nod, your gaze drifting to the flickering candles that cast long shadows across the room. “I don’t like this any more than you do. You know how I feel about his choice for a wife, and her children.” There’s a bitterness in your words that’s hard to swallow. “But Viserys made his decision, and now we have to navigate this storm without letting it drown us.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tighten around your arm, her eyes searching yours. “And the boys?”

“They must learn to control themselves,” you say firmly. “We cannot afford to have them fighting amongst each other, not with the eyes of the court watching. They need to understand what’s at stake.”

She looks at you, her gaze fierce. “They’re just boys. It’s not fair to put so much weight on their shoulders.”

“It’s not,” you agree, your voice softening. “But fair or not, it’s the reality we live in. They’re Targaryens. They’ll have to grow up faster than others, and they need to be stronger for it. We can’t have them tearing each other apart when the real threats lie beyond these walls.”

Rhaenyra sighs again, her hand slipping down to clasp yours. “I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

You pull her closer, resting your forehead against hers. “We’ll get through this,” you murmur, your voice a low promise. “But they need to see us united, strong. They need to know that we are their foundation, no matter what happens.”

She nods, her eyes closing for a moment as she takes in your words. When she opens them again, there’s a steely resolve there, a reflection of your own determination. “We’ll talk to them together. Make them understand.”

You press a kiss to her forehead, a brief but tender touch. “Yes.” You step back, your hand still holding hers as you lead her towards the door. “Let’s find them. The sooner we set this right, the better.”

As you leave your chambers, side by side, the weight of your shared responsibility settles between you. 

You and Rhaenyra find Jace and Luke in their shared chamber, their faces drawn and tense. The playful spirit that usually fills the room is absent, replaced by a silence that feels heavy with guilt. The boys stand as you enter, their eyes flicking nervously between you and their mother.

“Sit,” you instruct gently, motioning to the chairs by the hearth. They obey, exchanging uneasy glances. Rhaenyra takes a seat beside you, her expression a careful blend of concern and firmness.

“Do you understand why we’re here?” she begins, her voice calm but edged with disappointment.

Jace nods slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “We do, Mother. We… we shouldn’t have done what we did. It was cruel.”

Luke shifts uncomfortably, his voice a soft murmur. “We didn’t mean to hurt Aemond. It was just a joke…”

“A joke?” Your voice is sharper than you intend, and both boys flinch. You take a breath, forcing yourself to soften your tone. “You’re Targaryens. You know the power words hold. Mocking someone, especially your own blood, for something they cannot control—it’s beneath you.”

Jace’s eyes glisten, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “I’m sorry, Father. Truly. We just… we didn’t think.”

Rhaenyra leans forward, her hand resting gently on his. “I know, my love. But you must start thinking. You are not just boys playing in the yard. You are princes, and with that comes responsibility. People look to you, they judge us all by your actions.”

Luke’s lower lip trembles as he looks up at her. “We won’t do it again, I swear.”

You nod, reaching out to place a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You need to remember that Aemond is your family. You will need him, and he will need you, in the days to come. Strength lies in unity, not division.”

Jace nods fervently. “We’ll apologize to him. We’ll make it right.”

You’re about to respond when the door creaks open, and a servant enters, his expression tight with urgency. He bows quickly before speaking. “Your Grace, my Prince, the King has requested your presence. He wishes to speak with both of you privately.”

Rhaenyra frowns, a flicker of unease passing over her face. “What is it?”

The servant hesitates, glancing at you both before he answers. “There has been… troubling news from Driftmark. Lady Laena Velaryon has passed away.”

For a moment, silence fills the room, the words hanging like a heavy shroud. You feel Rhaenyra’s hand tighten around yours, her grip almost painful. The boys look between the two of you, confusion and fear mingling in their eyes.

“Laena…” Rhaenyra whispers, her voice trembling. “How?”

The servant bows his head. “I’m not privy to the details, my lady. But the King has asked for you both. He wishes to discuss this matter personally.”

You nod, your throat tight as you glance at Rhaenyra. “We’ll go at once.”

Turning back to Jace and Luke, you force a calm smile, though it feels hollow. “We have to speak with your grandsire. Stay here and reflect on what we’ve spoken about. We’ll return soon.”

The boys nod, subdued and solemn. As you and Rhaenyra leave the room, you feel a heaviness settle over you. Laena’s death—Daemon’s loss—hits harder than you would have expected. She was family, in her own way, and her passing feels like another thread unraveling in the fragile tapestry that binds your House together.

Rhaenyra’s hand slips into yours as you walk, her grip cold and trembling. “Daemon,” she murmurs, her eyes wide with sorrow. “How will he…?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” you say, though your voice is filled with uncertainty. “We must be strong, for him and for the children.”

She nods, drawing in a shuddering breath as you approach the King’s chambers. The door opens before you, and you step inside, the gravity of what’s to come pressing down on you both like a weight you can barely bear.

The heavy door to the King’s chambers swings open, revealing a somber scene within. King Viserys sits slumped in his chair, his face pale and drawn, a ghost of the man he once was. Alicent stands by his side, her hands clasped in front of her, the very image of dutiful silence, but you catch the brief flicker of her eyes, the smoldering anger beneath her composed exterior. No doubt Aemond has already told her about the incident in the Dragonpit.

Rhaenyra tightens her grip on your hand as you both step inside. You bow your head respectfully, feeling the weight of the room’s tension settle on your shoulders. “Father,” you greet, your voice steady despite the unease coiling within you.

Viserys looks up, his eyes clouded with grief and exhaustion. He waves a trembling hand toward the chairs across from him. “Sit, both of you. There is… there is news from Driftmark.”

You and Rhaenyra exchange a glance, the unspoken worry already taking root between you. You take your seats, your wife’s hand never leaving yours. Alicent’s gaze flickers between the two of you, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she remains silent.

“Laena Velaryon is dead,” Viserys says, his voice cracking. The bluntness of his words cuts through the silence like a knife, and you feel Rhaenyra tense beside you. “She died in childbirth. The labor… it went wrong. She tried to get to Vhagar, but she collapsed on the steps. Daemon was with her, but there was nothing he could do.”

There’s a strangled sound from Rhaenyra, half a gasp, half a sob. You tighten your grip on her hand, your own heart aching at the thought of Daemon, your uncle, watching helplessly as his wife—a woman of such fire and strength—was taken from him in such a brutal way.

“We’ve all been summoned to attend the funeral on Driftmark,” Viserys continues, his gaze distant, as if speaking to himself as much as to you. “It is our duty to pay our respects, to support House Velaryon in their time of mourning.”

There’s a pause, thick with the unspoken implications. You and Rhaenyra share another glance, the memory of your conversations from two months ago flashing between you. Conversations about the Hightowers’ growing influence over Viserys, about the way Alicent’s words seemed to carry more weight in the council chamber than they should. And now, with the eyes of Westeros surely turning to Driftmark, you can almost see the challenges that will rise like shadows at the edges of the funeral.

“Father,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice strained, “what of Daemon? How is he?”

Viserys’s eyes close for a moment, as if gathering himself. “He is… shattered, as you can imagine. They had come to Pentos, seeking a different life, but it was not to be. Now he returns to Driftmark, to bury his wife and face his loss.” He opens his eyes, fixing you both with a weary, almost pleading look. “You will go, won’t you? You will show the realm that our family stands together, despite… everything.”

Despite the divisions, despite the whispers, despite the presence of your father’s new family, his new children. The words remain unspoken, but they hang heavy in the air.

You incline your head. “Of course, Father. We will be there, for Daemon and for Laena. Our families are tied, and we will honor that bond.”

Rhaenyra nods beside you, though her eyes are still shadowed with grief and apprehension. “We will pay our respects, and do what we can to support him.”

Alicent’s gaze sharpens at that, her hands tightening around the hem of her dress. “It is good that you will be there,” she says quietly, her voice steady but tinged with something else—something brittle. “Daemon will need his family, all of them, during this time.”

There’s an edge in her tone, a pointedness that isn’t lost on you. You meet her eyes, seeing the silent fury simmering just beneath the surface. No doubt she’s already heard from Aemond about the cruelty he faced today, about the boys’ taunts and the mockery of the “Pink Dread.” Her eyes seem to dare you to address it, to acknowledge the simmering tensions that threaten to fracture this already fragile unity.

But now is not the time. Not with the shadow of death still hanging over the room. You give her a curt nod, acknowledging her words but not engaging further. There will be time enough to address those grievances, but not now.

Viserys exhales slowly, as if some great weight has been lifted from his shoulders by your assurances. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you both. I know things have been… difficult. But we must hold together, now more than ever.”

You and Rhaenyra rise together, a unified front, as you bow your heads in respect. “We will be there, Father,” Rhaenyra repeats softly. “You have our word.”

As you turn to leave, you feel Alicent’s gaze burning into your back, a silent promise of words yet unspoken. But for now, you push it aside, focusing on Rhaenyra, on the grief and worry etched into her face.

The corridor outside is quiet, your footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. 

The door closes behind you and Rhaenyra with a soft thud, leaving Viserys and Alicent alone in the low lit chamber. The silence between them is heavy, almost suffocating. Alicent remains where she is, her knuckles white as she grips the back of a chair, fury barely restrained. Viserys looks at her with weary eyes, as if already exhausted by a conversation they haven’t even had yet.

“Are you truly not going to address it?” Alicent’s voice is low, but the bitterness in it cuts like a blade. “Your grandchildren taunted Aemond, humiliated him, and you say nothing?”

Viserys sighs, the sound carrying the weight of years of burdens. He rubs a hand over his face, the lines of his age more pronounced in the flickering candlelight. “Alicent, they are children. They act thoughtlessly, all of them. Jace and Luke’s actions were cruel, yes, but Aegon was not innocent either. He stood by and let it happen, perhaps even encouraged it.”

“Aegon is a boy, Viserys!” Alicent’s voice rises, her eyes flashing with a fury she can no longer contain. “He’s still learning his place, his responsibilities. But you—” She pauses, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. “You always defend them, defend him and Rhaenyra. No matter what they do, you find a way to excuse it.”

Viserys’s face hardens, the tired king giving way to the father who has been pushed too far. “This is not about sides, Alicent. They are all my children, my grandchildren. Aemond needs guidance, not vengeance. As do Jace and Luke.”

Alicent’s eyes narrow, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Guidance? You think that’s all they need? You allow them to humiliate Aemond, to hurt him, and do nothing. Just as you did nothing when he—” She stops, her words catching in her throat, but the venom in her eyes makes it clear what she’s referring to.

The image of Silverwing descending upon the sept outside Casterly Rock flashes in her mind. The stones still bear the scars of dragon’s talons, a testament to that day when you stole Rhaenyra from her impending marriage to Jason Lannister. You, the prodigal son who had left for the Dorne border, returned with the ferocity of a storm, claiming what you believed to be yours without a thought to the chaos you left in your wake.

“There were no repercussions for what he did, Viserys,” she continues, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “He defied you, humiliated House Lannister, and shattered a political alliance. And you did nothing. You welcomed him back with open arms.”

Viserys’s gaze drops to his lap, his fingers twitching as if the very memory of it still pains him. “He is my son,” he says quietly. “I did what I thought was best to keep our family whole.”

Alicent’s laugh is sharp, almost hysterical. “Whole? You call this whole? You let him and Rhaenyra do as they please, and now their children are just as wild, as ungoverned. Aemond will grow up believing he’s less than them, that he’s not a true Targaryen, and you’re content to let that happen because it’s easier than admitting you’ve lost control.”

The king’s head snaps up, a flash of anger in his eyes. “And what would you have me do, Alicent? Punish them? For what? For the mistakes of youth? For the passions of their blood?”

“Yes!” she almost shouts, her voice breaking. “Yes, if it would show them there are consequences, that they cannot simply take and destroy as they please. There are scars on that sept, Viserys. Scars left by the dragon, by your son’s defiance, and you—” She swallows hard, her eyes blazing. “You allowed it. Because it was Rhaenyra. Because it was always Rhaenyra.”

A bitter silence falls between them, the air crackling with all the things that have been left unsaid for too long. Alicent’s hands tremble as she grips the chair, her knuckles pale against the dark wood. She forces herself to breathe, to steady her voice.

“You know, I thought… once,” she begins, softer now, almost as if speaking to herself, “that he would see me differently. That when he came back from the border, when he returned from Dorne, I could show him that I was a better choice than her. That I could be what he needed, what he wanted.”

Viserys’s expression softens, a sorrowful understanding in his eyes. “Alicent…”

But she shakes her head, cutting him off. “No. Don’t. I was a fool, Viserys. A fool for thinking I could compete with her, with whatever hold she has over him. She enthralled him, from the moment they were children. And now look at us.” She gestures around, as if the very walls of the chamber bear witness to her frustration. “Look at this family. Torn apart because you cannot say no to them.”

Viserys leans back in his chair, a look of profound weariness on his face. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I’ve failed in many ways. But I will not see this family destroyed by bitterness and blame. Not by yours, and not by mine.”

Alicent’s eyes fill with tears, her fury burning out into something raw and painful. “Then what will you do, Viserys? How will you keep us together when we’re already breaking apart?”

He doesn’t answer, and the silence stretches between them, heavy with the weight of a thousand unspoken regrets. For once, the King of the Seven Kingdoms has no words of comfort, no easy solution. He simply closes his eyes, his hand still resting over his face, and lets the silence speak for him.

Jace and Luke make their way through the corridors of the Red Keep, their footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls. They had left their youngest brother, Joffrey, with the servants, trusting them to keep him safe while they faced what felt like an impending storm. Their father’s stern words still ring in their ears as they approach the courtyard where they were told Aemond and Aegon could be found.

They spot their half-uncles by the training yard. Aegon leans casually against a wall, his expression bored as Aemond practices with a wooden sword. The younger boy’s movements are fierce, each strike of the blade carrying a force that belies his small frame. It’s clear he’s still angry, his face flushed and his jaw clenched.

Jace and Luke exchange a glance, a shared determination in their eyes, before they step forward. Jace clears his throat, drawing the attention of the brothers. Aemond stops mid-swing, his eyes narrowing as he sees them.

“We came to apologize,” Jace begins, his voice steady though the words feel strange on his tongue. “What we did in the Dragonpit was wrong. It was cruel.”

Luke nods, looking at Aemond with genuine remorse. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. We’re sorry.”

Aemond’s eyes flicker with something unreadable—perhaps surprise, perhaps something darker. He lowers his sword but doesn’t put it away. “Sorry?” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think words can fix this?”

Aegon snorts from his place against the wall, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “They’re just doing what they were told, Aemond. Daddy and Mommy sent them to make nice, didn’t they?”

Jace’s cheeks flush with anger, but he holds his tongue, determined to do what his father asked. “We shouldn’t have treated you like that,” he insists. “We know it’s not easy, being without a dragon, and—”

“You think I care about your pity?” Aemond snaps, his grip tightening on the sword. “Your father, the great Prince of Dragonstone, thinks he can send you to smooth things over, like everything is fine. Like he’s some perfect, noble hero.”

Jace stiffens at the tone, his eyes narrowing. “He defended you, Aemond. He told us we were wrong and that you deserved better. And you dare insult him?”

Aemond sneers, his eyes blazing with a mixture of hurt and fury. “Defended me? Your father’s only ever cared about himself and his precious Rhaenyra. He never cared about us. My mother says—” He stops abruptly, as if realizing he’s said too much.

“Your mother says what?” Jace demands, his voice rising. “What lies has she filled your head with?”

Aemond’s face flushes red, his expression defiant. “She says your father is nothing but a selfish, reckless man who took what he wanted, no matter who he hurt. That he only ever looked out for himself.”

“That’s not true!” Jace barks, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “He’s a better man than you’ll ever know. He was more fair to you than you deserve, especially when you speak like that!”

Aemond’s eyes flash dangerously, and he takes a step forward, his sword still in hand. “You want to say that again?”

Before the situation can escalate further, Ser Criston Cole appears, his eyes sharp as he steps between the boys. “Enough,” he commands, his voice firm and brooking no argument. He places a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, pulling him back gently but firmly. “This is not the time or place for fighting.”

Jace glares at Aemond, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. “You’re right, Cole. It’s not the time.” He turns to Luke, who looks equally shaken and angry. “But this isn’t over.”

Luke steps forward, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “We’ll settle this on Driftmark. We’ll see who’s truly worthy.”

Aemond’s eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of something—perhaps apprehension, perhaps excitement—behind the anger. “Anytime, anywhere.”

Ser Criston’s gaze sharpens, and he steps in between them fully, his voice a warning. “You are all princes of the realm. You will act like it, or there will be consequences.”

The boys glare at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges, before Jace and Luke turn and stalk away. The anger in their bodies is visible, the fire of the argument still burning hot within them.

As they walk, Jace glances at Luke, his expression grim. “This isn’t just about us, or Aemond. It’s about our family, about what’s right.”

Luke nods, his young face set with determination. “We’ll show them on Driftmark. We’ll show everyone.”

And as they leave the courtyard behind, the promise of another confrontation lingers in the air, a storm brewing just beyond the horizon.

[darkbluekies]

never trust a cupcake

Female!yandere x male!reader

Summary: mean boy yn got too popular for Hedwig's taste, so she took him

A/N: started to write this oneshot back in August/September but never finished, so I'm releasing what I had done as a drabble instead :)

Warnigns: hedwig goes insane, poison/drugs, knife, kidnapping, throwing up

You can't remember what happened. You were eating the cupcakes you got from Hedwig and suddenly … you felt sick. You must have fallen asleep. But where are you now? You look around, head pounding. You're in a … kitchen? A very fancy kitchen. Whatever Hedwig put in the cupcakes, you still feel sick and as if you're about to throw up. You try to stand up from the chair you've been placed on and quickly notice that your hands are tied behind your back and your feet to the legs. Confusion starts to fade into anger and you tug at the ropes harshly. One thing leads to another and you end up on the floor. The loud sound of wood hitting marble echoes through the large room. You manage to lift your head in the last second before it smashes against the floor.

Suddenly, a familiar face runs in. The anger runs off. Confusion is back.

"Hedwig?" you pant.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were awake!" she apologizes quickly and pulls the chair up with you on it. She cups your cheeks and she lets her hand wander into your hair. "Are you hurt? You didn't hit your head in the fall, did you?"

You turn your head back and forth to get free from her grip.

"What have you done?" you ask harshly.

"W-What do you mean?" Hedwig asks unsurely.

"Did you kidnap me?!"

"Y-Y/N, please don't say it like that! I didn't kidnap you! I brought you home!" She sighs and lets her shoulders slump, voice grow small. "I couldn't watch you be swarmed by all the girls in school … I had to have you by myself. It doesn't matter if you're mean to me … I still love you."

You stare at her in disbelief. Hedwig has always been clingy and suffocating, but you could never have anticipated that she would kidnap you.

"Hedwig, what the actual fuck?" you breathe out. "Untie me. Now."

"Not yet", she answers hesitantly. "You have to calm down first."

"Calm- …?" You snap. "Who are you to tell me to calm down?! You fucking kidnapped me! How sick in the head do you have to be in the head to do such a goddamn thing?! Untie me now!"

Hedwig’s just standing there … listening. You can tell that something shifts behind her eyes. She's trying to hide that she gets sad. As if she's telling herself that she doesn't care if you're mean, when in reality she does. Telling herself that you can be mean makes her feel better about herself.

"You don't need to be scared", Hedwig says carefully. "I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't mean for us to start our relationship like this … but you got too popular for your own good."

You scoff. Fear has started to creep into your heart.

Hedwig walks over to the kitchen isle where a glass dome covers a neatly stacked tower of cupcakes. She picks out one and walks over to you. The sight of it causes your stomach to turn.

"Here, I think you should eat", she says.

"I'm not eating anything from you", you almost growl. "Do you really think I trust you?"

"This isn't dangerou. It's a normal cupcake." She breaks off a bit and puts it in her mouth. "See?"

You watch how she breaks off another bit and moves closer, close enough for you to smell her perfume. It's sweet enough to make your head spin.

"Open your mouth", she says softly.

"Hedwig …", you say distantly. "I feel sick."

Hedwig suddenly becomes alert and runs for a bucket. She returns and holds it up to your face. The bucket smells of strong cleaning chemicals and that is enough to awoken the beast in your stomach. It spurs out of you like a waterfall.

"Good boy", she says softly, running her fingers through your hair. "Get it out of you. You're doing so good. My good boy …"

Finally, you're cleansed. Hedwig puts the bucket in the hallway and gets you a glass of cold water. You hesitate before gulping it down. She tries again to feed you the cupcake.

"I'm never going to eat cupcakes again", you mutter and glare at her.

"Alright … I understand", she sighs and walks over to the fridge. "Cheese?"

You don't answer. You'd rather have cheese than the cupcake, but you'll not tell her. Hedwig returns with a charcuterie board. She picks up a cheddar cheese.

"Open your mouth", she smiles.

This time, you obey. She places the cheese on your tongue and watches how you chew.

"You're such a good boy", she says dreamily and caresses your cheek. "My boy."

She feeds you some more pieces.

"Can I untie you now?" she asks. "I want to change you out of your school uniform."

You nod frantically. Hedwig sits on her knees to untie your feet and sneaks behind your back. As soon as you're free, you jump up and run.

"Y/N!" Hedwig gasps.

You run over to the front door and grab the majestic handles, but it doesn't matter how much you drag, they're as locked as can be.

"Y/N", she says disappointingly, walking towards you.

"Don't!" you shout and run past her, towards the living room.

You grab the TV remote and throw it towards one of the tall windows. The glass doesn't budge.

"It's not cheap glass", Hedwig says behind you. "You won't be able to break it."

"Let me go, you psycho", you hiss and turn around.

She stands with her hands behind her back and watches you carefully.

"Please stop trying to get out, it won't work", she says. "Even if you get out of the house, you won't get out of the garden. Please stop before you hurt yourself." She takes a step forward. "If you just accept your fate you will be happy. I won't hurt you. I will worship you."

"I don't fucking need that. I don't need you."

You can see that it shatters something in her. She stumbles back a step and gulps.

"Don't say that … please", she says weakly, tears entering her eyes as she shakes her head. "You're just scared. I understand. I don't mean to scare you, but-"

"I'm leaving. Open the front door."

"No! No, you can't!"

You push past her and storm towards the front door. You turn around to tell her to hurry up, but you're met with her holding a knife in her trembling hands. The very hands she hid behind her back. You flinch.

“I want you to go upstairs”, she sniffles and nods at the staircase to your right. “I want to change your clothes a-and tuck you in.” She wipes her runny nose with her white sleeve. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You glance at the knife, at the locked door and at the staircase. Slowly, you move up the marble stairs, head spinning. You’re not angry anymore … only terrified. Hedwig isn’t just annoying … she’s insane.