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dragonsfictavern · 9 months ago

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Little Lamb

Astarion Ancunin x f!reader x Halsin Silverbough

a/n: This is also a repost from last week as I tried a new format and hated it. So going back to this loveliness!

Summary: When you offer Astarion a treat after a long day, he more than takes you up on the offer, he suggests a treat for you both. Upon their demise, handlers will ensure their animals are pleased. Astarion thinks the same can be said for your blood. But he needs Halsin's help in order to prove it. To please you and upon your release he will feed and taste it in your blood. You're more than up for trying.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, threesome? Kinda, cunnilingus, breast fondling, blood, biting, aftercare

Word count: 2.9K

The fire crackles lively as you take a damp cloth to Astarion’s face. Washing off the blood from the previous battle. You could tell he was tired, or drained being more accurate of a term. Especially given as he only attempted to wave you off a couple of times, claiming he could clean himself, before giving in and letting you care for him.

In fact, by the look of pure content and adoration plastered across his features, you’d claim him to be downright exhausted. He’d never allow himself to show this side to you otherwise. You try not to show your shock as when moving away curl off his forehead, he hums lowly, leaning into your touch.

You set down the cloth once all the blood is off of his face and he almost stumbles leaning in closer to you. Eyes fluttering open he looks around, coming back to his senses. That mask you know so well falls right over his perfectly clean face.

“Darling, if you wanted an excuse to touch me, you know you didn’t need to wait so long,” Astarion drawls, looking down at his hand to make sure no blood got beneath his fingernails. You raise a brow, the corner of lip twitching up in amusement. Seeing past the persona he hides behind was something that took you longer to do than you’re willing to admit. To know what he was truly asking for between the lines of his snark. But now it almost seems to be second nature to you.

“If you want more of my attention Astarion, you only have to ask,” you reply calmly, though by the look of incredulity he sends you, you know he can hear the humor in your tone. He scoffs loudly, pretending as if he despises every syllable of that sentence. Despite the way he leans into you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the way he pointedly avoids your gaze.

“Needing attention? What am I, a dog?” He sputters, shaking his head for good measure. Even as his shoulder is now completely resting into your chest. You bite your lip in order to suppress the size of your grin. Resting your elbow on your knee, you use it to prop your chin in your hand in order to get a better look at him.

“Not at all. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a treat,” a deep fondness seeps into your tone without your control. You had never been able to hide your feelings for Astarion that well. Not when you first met, when he was manipulating things, and especially not since he’s confessed his own feelings for you. But by now there were things he couldn’t hide from you either.

“A treat you say?” Astarion asks with a pause, going still. He quirks his head, looking at you without really turning toward you. You bite down harder on your lip, desperate not to laugh. You were sure you had him in the palm of your hand by now.

“Hungry?” You offer, pressing into him more fully and angling your neck for him. It had been a few days since Astarion last fed. You knew he was in need, especially after the events of today. He always looked forward to it whenever you walked up to his camp offering yourself up on a silver platter. As you ask, you see a glimmer of interest pass over Astarion’s eyes and before you can blink, he’s sitting up straighter and looking right at you.

“Oh? Why, I have a treat in mind for both of us if you’re willing to indulge yourself with me,” Astarion says, voice turning teasingly sultry for effect and sounding much more invested than he did a moment prior. He takes your hand gently, bringing it to his lips and pressing soft kisses into your warm flesh. Though his eyes remain on you and his lips curl into a grin.

“What did you have in mind?” Your question comes out without hesitance and you’re instead surprised to find… intrigue. Astarion must be able to sense it too as just as the last word leaves your lips, he’s lifting you both up from your spots in front of the fireplace. He turns your bodies, directing them to wherever he plans on taking you two. His arm curls around your waist, pulling you tight against him, causing your hip to caress his with every step.

“You know the way poor helpless animals are led to the slaughter every day, yes? How their handlers aim to please them so their precious meat tastes better,” he explains as you slowly walk throughout the camp, your eyes more on each other than where you’re walking. You don’t know where this, or where you are, going but you know you trust Astarion with your life and everything beyond it. But his choice of wording does raise some questions.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘please them’ in this context?” You wonder, your heart picking up speed as you seem to have some idea of where this is going. Since Astarion’s confession, you two have taken things as slow as he’s needed. He’s experimented here and there, testing his limits. You’ve stopped whenever and wherever he draws that line and you’ve been happy to do so for him. Just when you think it’ll be another one of those nights, you and Astarion round the corner and you see your other partner, Halsin, standing there waiting. You feel your face drop comically as what Astarion’s asking for settles in. “Oh no.”

The area around them was a bit ways outside of camp. You could no longer see the fire or hear any voices. There was complete privacy… for the moment anyway. The only thing around you all was the greenery of the forest, tall and wide trees for as far as the eye could see. Standing amidst them all was your other partner. Smiling at you softly as you both make your way toward him.

“Now, darling, make sure not to tell the big oaf— sorry, oak— what inspired this little idea of mine. Not sure he’d do it if he knew,” Astarion mocks as he leans down to your ear, whispering to you. Though you know he’s teasing and even being aware of Astarion’s true feelings surrounding Halsin, you can't help but send your partner a small glare at his words. To which he only grins cheekily in response.

As you both finally reach Halsin, you slip out of Astarion’s arms. His arm falls easily from around your waist and his feet stop in their tracks as yours continue. You take a few steps forward and before you know it, Halsin’s big arms are wrapping themselves around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Resting your hands on his hips, you look up at him with slight concern. But his smile remains just as soft.

“Halsin, are you sure of this?” You ask him quietly, hoping he felt no pressure to do this. You were happy to see him, of course. But the idea of any of you being uncomfortable from this situation made your chest ache from simply the thought. The beginnings of that ache are immediately soothed as Halsin’s expression somehow becomes even more tender.

“I trust you, little lamb, and you can provide much more consent for this than the animals he’d take from can,” Halsin explains and his words instantly ring true for you. It’s also true that you honestly prefer Astarion taking from you instead of an animal. Though Halsin doesn’t need to know all the details surrounding that. “It’s an honorable sacrifice, what you’re doing.”

“Oh, yes, a real sacrifice it is indeed.” Astarion snorts loudly, standing about a foot away with his arms crossed. Letting you and Halsin talk without allowing his presence to be forgotten. Not that it ever could. Your cheeks flush at his words and in your fluster you step away from Halsin who lets you go without a beat before you start heading back over to Astarion. He gives a resounding clap of his hands that make your eyes and smile widen in amusement. “Now then! Shall we go ahead and start? Today has caused me to become absolutely famished.”

As you reach Astarion you take his hands in yours, separating them with humor dancing in your eyes. Astarion is mirroring the look when you make eye contact with him. Slowly, you start walking backwards, keeping his hands in yours as you guide him closer to Halsin. When you can feel the heat of his body behind you, you stop, never looking away from Astarion.

“You’re lucky I adore you,” you say, lightly teasing him. One hand drops his to reach up and gently cup his cheek in your hand. Astarion’s eyes flutter, flickering over your palm and what he can see of your hand and the simple gesture of soft affection. All signs of humor and laughter leave his face and the rare signs of vulnerability and affection shine through as he looks back into your eyes.

“I know that,” he rasps quietly, three words that shoot straight into your heart and make it soar. In his gaze and in this moment you know you have his complete trust and nothing has ever felt better. With a subtle tug on his face, Astarion catches the hint and leans down, his eyes sparking with tension as they look at your lips. You both share a kiss that was short and sweet and completely perfect. After, you let go of him with a loving smile and face Halsin once more.

“You’re sure this is ok, my love?” You ask, reaching out a hand to gently rest it on his forearm. Astarion and Halsin were both very different people. Though you hold much love for them both, you had never attempted to bring you all together before. So something like this being the first occurrence of it was making you more than nervous.

“It is more than. You know how I have long since imagined a night where Astarion and I may partake in sharing the pleasures of your body,” Halsin’s smile is wide as he confesses this all to you and Astarion. His free hand moves to rest over yours on his arm. Looking deep into your eyes, you know he wishes for you to fully digest his next few words. “Though I had imagined them under better circumstances, I am truly blessed to have you both here with me tonight. Let me prove this to you. Lay down.”

Your breath stutters in your chest, eyes widening as you fully come to the realization of what’s about to happen. Butterflies flutter rapidly in your stomach as you watch Astarion sit with his back resting against a nearby tree. When his legs widen in invitation, you swallow thickly before moving to rest between them. As soon as you settle, both men are surrounding you and making quick work of removing your clothes.

Astarion’s hands move up and down along your sides, his eyes watchful of your every expression. You look upon Halsin, eyes wide as he settles back onto his knees once you’re fully bared to them. Suddenly feeling Astarion’s lips graze your ear, you jump slightly, angling your head more towards him.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, darling? One word, at any time, and it will be just you and I once more,” Astarion murmurs, nose instinctively nuzzling behind your ear. A spot where your scent is most prominent. Your heart melts and while you didn’t hold many reservations about this to start, you certainly didn’t now.

“I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m alright, I swear,” you respond, turning your head further and allowing Astarion to look into your eyes as you say this. To let him know you truly mean it. A flash of adoration passes over his face but it’s gone in a blink and in its place is his usual grin.

“I didn’t think you’d protest. But, you know, just to make sure,” he explains smoothly, though you can pick up on his subtle notes of concern. A smile graces your lips, settling back into his chest as you turn back toward the ever patient Halsin who sits there watching you two with an adoring smile of his own.

“Shall I proceed?” He asks, also checking in. Your heart beats so loudly you know for a fact they can hear it. Warmth spreads through your chest as you nod at him, your legs hooking around Astarion’s as you spread yourself wide for Halsin. A soft rumble escapes from Halsin’s chest as he crawls in between your legs. His hands slide up the length of your limbs, stopping along the inside of your thighs. Your breath hitches and you rest your head on Astarion’s shoulder as you look down at Halsin.

Halsin leans down, slowly kissing up your sensitive inner thighs. Reaching closer and closer to the place where you need him most. You try to ignore your embarrassment at him seeing how turned on you are. How wet the idea of doing this had made you. But as Halsin reaches your core, your toes curl as his breath fans against your wet lips, and all embarrassment is wiped away. Goosebumps form across your arms and you shiver in Astarion’s hold.

His thick fingers part your folds and you have to physically force yourself not to clench, whimpering as tingles light up your core. You watch his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze just as the flat of his tongue laps slowly up your slip. You cry out, arching your chest back into Astarion’s chest and his arms immediately wrap around you, holding you firmly and massaging your breasts.

Halsin groans at the taste of you, his eyes fluttering closed. It’s like something is unleashed within him as your essence hits his tongue. Moving in closer to your cunt, Halsin ravages you like a man starved, his tongue moving at short and quick strokes. You cry out, hips jerking up into his face and his hands on your thighs hold you down, keeping you wide open for him.

Pleasure swirls in your gut, the pressure building with every thrust of his tongue that delves inside you and every flick of your clit. The battling sensations have you moaning and squirming against Astarion who watches you hungrily, a wide smirk on his face. Halsin growls, latching onto your clit and sucking harshly.

Lighting shocks its way through your system as your nerves ignite from his skilled mouth. Your face twists in pleasure as his tongue swirls around your clit before sliding down your folds into the cavern of your core. Your body starts to shake as that pressure grows heavier and heavier. You feel as though you’re on fire as Halsin fucks you with his tongue.

His pace remains steady and it has you writhing and whining in pleasure, desperate for release, your stomach clenching as your thighs shake from the pressure. Halsin’s jaw unhinges as far as he can, doubling in his efforts to eat you out. His tongue consumes you, eagerly devouring everything you’re giving him. His teeth nip at your clit and the coil in your stomach snaps.

You cry out loudly as your orgasm hits you. All you hear is a low chuckle before Astarion swoops in, fangs easily sinking into your flesh. Letting out a short scream, your body jolts as the pleasure of Astarion’s bite combines with the movements of Halsin’s tongue in a perfect symphony of ecstasy.

Astarion drinks from you heavily and you moan, your body rocking both into his mouth and into Halsin’s tongue as he doesn’t stop riding you through your high. Your entire body buzzes and shakes, feeling light as air as your climax moves through and out of you. Right into Halsin’s patient tongue.

You sigh, sagging into Astarion’s body as your orgasm slowly fades. Halsin continues to lap at your core though much slower, considering and being careful of any overstimulation. A rumble sounds out from his chest as he cleans up your release, causing your hips to lightly twitch.

Waiting as patiently as Halsin, you let Astarion get his fill of you. A small smile rests on your face from the overwhelming but pleasing experience they put you through. A grunt leaves your lips once Astarion pulls his fangs out but that sting is quickly forgotten as he nuzzles into your neck afterward. The feeling has you giggling quietly.

Halsin pushes up from between your thighs once the mess is licked clean and moves further up your body. Leaning in he kisses you softly and you hum contently as you kiss him back, enjoying the sight of your wetness coating his lips and chin. When he pulls back he lays down on you two gently, resting his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around both of you. You all quickly settle into the comfort of everyone’s embrace.

“I’d say this went well, don’t you think?” Astarion asks lightly, effectively breaking the peaceful silence. The question has you all laughing as ‘well’ is not strong enough of a word to describe the feeling of what just happened between you three. You know you certainly wouldn’t be against this happening again and you feel as though neither of them would surely mind either.

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loweya-blog · 5 months ago

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Bullied MC

(Warnings: Bullying, harassment, gore, fighting.)

The brothers catch someone trying to bully you/mc.

Belphegore

He is initially shocked when he came across someone yelling at you in the halls. For one, you are a powerful magic user. And even if it was during a time in which you didn't have magic, you still had the seven demons by your side. Once the shock has faded.... he is pissed.

He gets defensive whenever his twin is even slightly at risk. The idea of anybody causing you active harm boils his blood. His eyes narrow and he swiftly gets in between you and the bully. With his temper flaring, there is no reasoning with him.

The bully's eyes widen as they felt a tail wrap around their neck, choking them tightly. Belphegore silently stared, hate swarming his mind.

"Don't ever touch them," He muttered dangerously, just so that the bully could hear it.

It took both you and Beelzebub to pry Belphegore off. Beel hurried the moment he felt something wrong. The bully ran off and Belphegore eventually calmed down and began cuddling up to you, as if trying to keep you close and safe near him.

That night the bully had the worst nightmares of his life.

Beelzebub

Beel was on his way to practice when he heard the cries of a human. A human he knew very well. His stomach dropped as he rushed into the hall. He could see a random demon looking down at you, spewing vile words at you. Beel was in his demon form in seconds and flew to your, getting in between the bully and you.

He wrapped his arms around you and formed a protective barrier between you and the other demon. Once he was certain you were safe and protected in his arms, he picked you up and glared darkly at the bully who dared to try to harm you.

Beel already lost his sister. He already felt the suffering of his twin and now he could feel your pain too. Each tear felt like his own. So he cradled you closely and ignored any of your protests. His eyes glanced to the bully.

"Leave."

It was all Beel could muster at the moment. His priority was your safety above all else. You had to be safe. He flew right back to the House of Lamentation and placed you on the bed. Then he'd get you anything you asked for, especially snacks and listen to you all night long. He would also text his brothers to inform them of the situation.

Beel cared more about you than revenge. Besides, his brothers were already halfway through tearing through the demon and promised to leave him something to munch on.

Asmodeus

You and Asmodeus were supposed to hit the boutique later that day to get you both some matching outfits for an event. He preferred having people wait on him but for you? Asmo would wait for you any day. Besides it gave him some time to check his devilgram.

But.... you were taking a long time to finish up with whatever you were doing so he decided to go look for you, only to find some asshole bothering you in the halls, saying vile things to your face. THAT was something he'd never tolerate.

He slammed his heel right in the back of the demon's head, kicking him far away from you. Asmo had gone into his demon form and had wrapped his scorpion tail around you protectively, carefully combing his manicured hands through your hair to make it look nice again. He cast the demon who was bothering you a glance then smiled.

"Get on your hands and knees. Beg my darling for forgiveness," Asmo demanded with his every charming smile. His eyes.... were of blood lust.

He then guided you back to HOL or wherever you needed to go to calm down, using his charm to force the bully to remain on their knees and begging for forgiveness until their vocal cord was ragged.

Meanwhile back home you were pampered in his bath and reminded over and over about your beauty and pure loveliness.

Satan

Satan was having a lovely day. Satan was going to go to the cat cafe with you. Satan was feeling just fine.

Until he saw someone daring to press you against the wall and spouting horrid nonsense to your face. But it wasn't just that. The thing that truly set him off was that look of fear and the tears forming in your eyes.

His heart was pounding with wild fury as he snatched the bully from behind and slamming him into the ground. Every part of his mind screamed for revenge. He NEEDED to tear this bastard limb from limb and drag him through the halls for daring to make you suffer.

"You will feel every once of pain for daring to harm them!" His voice boomed through the halls.

It was only your touch.... your hand that brought him back to his senses. He could see you were still upset and shame boiled in his stomach. Satan didn't want you to have to stand up for the person who caused you harm. It was unfair. He let the demon go and immediately wrapped his arms around you, still seething in rage but calmer now he could hear your voice.

The two of you left for the House of Lamentation. There he would read to you and talk about what happened. He was careful to follow his psychology books and allow you to direct the conversation and sought to any of your needs.

Later.... when you were asleep.... he hunted the demon down. He wouldn't just kill the fool. That would be too obvious. He had a whole line of curses to try out on his foolish victim.

Leviathan

When his player two didn't show up to go to the Ruri-chan themed arcade with him, he was worried he'd been ditched. Of course. Nobody would ever want to go to an arcade with a disgusting otaku like him...

When this pessimistic demon turned a corner... for a moment he was stunned. A demon was spewing insults at you in the hall. YOU?! The most amazing beautiful handsome fantastic person he'd ever met? Then.... instant anger.

Leviathan didn't get angry easily and when his temper flared it was quick and over with in seconds, leaving him to sulk. He'd summon Lotan if Mammon stole his items or his brothers teased him too much. But.... the sight of a demon bullying you. Lotan was summoned immediately.

And Lotan also drenched everyone involved, including you. Leviathan immediately ran up to you with wide nervous eyes.

"I'm so sorry! I-I just wanted to soak him I didn't think in the moment and it's all my fault. ImsosorrypleaseforgivemeIjustwantedto-"

You managed to calm him down and the both of you escaped to the HOL. Leviathan didn't even want to go to the arcade anymore. He just wanted to take care of his player two. The both of you played games, watched anime and talked about whatever to get your minds off of what had happened.

As for the bully....well.... Levi may or may not have hacked into all his accounts and sent all the grim he could find to your account. What? It was just compensation for the harrassment!

Mammon

The greedy demon was absolutely stunned to see that you weren't immediately on board with his scheming to steal from his brothers to get some extra grim. Actually? no. He wasn't that surprised. But he always offered to let you join on his schemes.

Just as he was about to go start his plan.... he saw you in the hall with another demon. At first his jealousy flared. Who was this demon? Why were they talking to HIS human? But when he realized all the shitty things that demon was saying, that jealousy turned to pure protective fury.

"Oi! Hands off my human!"

Before the other demon could even react, Mammon had sped at him full force and shoved him away from you. He was in demon form and had his teeth bare as he glared at the other demon. He then stood upright and looked at you.

"Lets head home. I got... uh.... you need to stuff for me! Yeah. That's right."

With that pathetic excuse, he dragged you back to HOL where he would cuddle you all night to remind you that you were his treasure. T R E A S U R E. That meant precious, no matter what the bully claimed.

Suddenly the target of all his money grubbing schemes shifted from his brothers to this bully and were ten times crueler. He'd use it to buy his treasure somethin nice to remind them how they shine.

Lucifer

He was late that evening due to paperwork and afterschool responsibilities from RAD. Lucifer hadn't expected you to wait for him during that time but according to a text you sent, you did. It brought a subtle smile to his face as he finally packed up for the day.

The moment he saw that demon harassing you, that smile was gone. He strutted right up to the demon and pulled him off of you immediately.

"Are you alright?"

His entire focus was on you while his grasp was on the idiot who dared to attack you, and tightening every moment. Unfortunately his position made it difficult to immediately lash out like his brothers did. He couldn't damage the reputation of Diavolo. But he was a clever demon and knew how to handle things properly.

First, he would take excellent care of his beloved. He tossed the other demon aside like they were garbage and swiftly picked you up like you were some sort of princess. In moments, you were safe and sound back at the HOL. Specifically his room.

From there, he'd pamper you and soothe you in every way. If you wanted hugs, he'd wrap his black feathered wings around you like a safety net keeping you warm. If you wished for food or entertainment, he'd pour a glass of the finest demonus and put on one of his records. You'd be treated like a queen for the night and constantly reminded how regal you truly were until he could feel your heart overwhelmed with pride.

And when you were fast in his bed, asleep.... then he would handle the bully. He'd assess their weaknesses and strengths first. Then, he'd meticulously pull apart the bully's life thread by thread until everything unraveled. Friends would abandon the bully. Companies would refuse the bully any sort of jobs. Even random curses would appear from which the bully couldn't escape. To seal the bully's fate... Lucifer would have the bully's crimes come to life, expelling them both from RAD and any other place of importance.

All the while Lucifer would spend with you, showing you how lovely you truly are.

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rosquinn · 13 days ago

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One of my Dorian Gray hot takes is that there was absolutely nothing in Dorian and Basil's relationship that was healthy. I keep seeing posts like "Basil's love for Dorian was so pure, that's why the portrait was so pretty and the real villain of the story is Wotton because he corrupted it"

As I see it, yes, Wotton did corrupt him, but saying Basil's feelings for Dorian were pure is simply inaccurate to the story. Basil says himself he merely sees Dorian as an artistic ideal [Dorian Gray is to me simply a motive in art. I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. That is all; ch1] and admitted he (a 10 year older man, who had power over him) tried to isolate him from other people and "keep him to himself". Furthermore, Basil also plays a big role in the way Dorian sees himself and his beauty, by painting him everyday and not maintaining any conversation with him, he's indirectly reaffirming what Wotton tells him: people only care about you because you're pretty and young. There is also this scene from the second chapter:

Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. "I believe you would, Basil. You like your art better than your friends. I am no more to you than a green bronze figure. Hardly as much, I dare say.

The painter stared in amazement. It was so unlike Dorian to speak like that. What had happened? He seemed quite angry. His face was flushed and his cheeksburning.

"Yes," he continued, "I am less to you than your ivory Hermes or your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when one loses one's good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I shall kill myself."

Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. "Dorian! Dorian!" he cried, "don't talk like that. I have never had such a friend as you, and I shall never have suchanother. You are not jealous of material things, are you?-you who are finer than any of them!"

Dorian is even dealing with a suicidal ideation over what Wotton has told him and the way Basil sees him, he needs emotional validation, he's asking to be told there's more than him than that, and Basil's reaction is just─ no. You're prettier than any other object (indirectly comparing him to one, too).

Basil's view of Dorian influences how he sees people as much as Wotton's. For example, to Dorian Sybil was only what she pretended to be, he loved her performance, her acting, how she did exactly what the public wanted (which can apply to Dorian himself), not the real her. She was only an artistic ideal to him, she meant to him exactly what Dorian meant to Basil. He ignored her desires, pain and everything not related to what he wanted to see, since that's what he's been taught he must appreciate.

I also disagree with the interpretation of the portrait as a "pure" reflection of Basil's love (I would personally rather describe it as an obsession, though) and Dorians soul because it's not. At least not entirely. Part of the point of the book is that everyone only saw the part of Dorian they wanted: the portrait represents Basil's idolized version of him, what he wanted to see and how he refused to see Dorian as a person instead of an artistic ideal. That's why he tried to make him redeem himself, because he hated seeing his version of Dorian shatter into pieces. It was never Dorian entirely, not even after aging terribly because that's the result of Basil and Wotton's influence. The portrait was not his real soul, it was a modified version of it other people played with because nobody cared about the whole thing, and the influence was so big those parts became his whole being. It was just an idolized, molded version at first but turned into his real self with the time and the sins. Dorian's soul (the portrait) was constructed upon what others appreciated about him, so when Wotton motivated him to sin, because Dorian's potential to be terrible was what mattered to him, it became ugly and terrible. There was absolutely nothing pure about that portrait since day 1.

#Another ross tpodg post has hit tumblr.this is just my interpretation👍#tpodg #the picture of dorian gray #dorian gray #basil hallward #henry wotton #roscaposting

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yandere-paramour · 13 days ago

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Why is noelle so openly unhinged towards darling? Does it stem from hidden fears? At least the others try to find common ground.

Noelle has DEEP psychological problems stemming from her childhood. Basically, Noelle grew up in a shitty 3 bedroom house with her mother, 4 sisters, and a rotating cast of stepfathers. She shares a father with her older sister, Odette, but is half-siblings with her younger sisters. She has no idea who her father is because he dipped when she was a young toddler.

Noelle's mother is a... complicated woman. To put it simply, she was a serious alcoholic more interested in trying to keep a man than she was raising 5 daughters, which left Odette and Noelle with most of the responsibility. After school, they would both go home to make bottles, give baths, clean the house, cook dinner, and basically raise the other sisters. Mom brought home a paycheck, but it was sparse and usually only enough for rent and a few groceries. Odette and Noelle went without food more than a few times so the younger ones could eat. It was worse when they were younger, but once Odette and Noelle got to their early teens, they started working to supplement the meager income.

In addition to this, Mom was also not too selective with the men she brought home. There was always a new man sleeping in the house one door down, and the bedsprings were always squeaking, making another little sister to take care of. Multiple men were creepy with the many girls, but Noelle always managed to threaten them/scare them off before anything too bad happened, but it seriously scared her; they never slept without the doors locked. Noelle and Odette escaped because they did well in school and got scholarships, but they are both deeply scarred by their childhoods. Their mom is older now (40s), and it's harder and harder to keep a boyfriend, so she mostly drinks, leaving the younger sisters home alone. They're teenagers themselves now, and Odette and Noelle send money home to help out and visit when they can, but they don't interact much with their mother. None of them really do.

Obviously you can see why Noelle is the way she is. She doesn't eat because she's used to skipping meals to feed her younger sisters. She has insomnia/sleeps very lightly because she's used to staying up to study/watch the locked door. She works/cleans/controls constantly because that is all she knows how to do to keep herself sane. Every aspect of her adult life is controlled by her shitty childhood.

This clearly spills over into her relationships too. The reason Noelle takes so much time with stalking gathering information and getting to know her Darling during dates at first is because she doesn't want to make the same mistake her mom continues to make over and over again. She needs to know you, needs to know how you'll react and if you'll be able to love her because any uncertainty scares her. Once she knows she loves you, she can't let you go. She can't let you walk out like everyone else in her life.

She keeps you inside because the inside is safe. She can control the inside, she can keep you safe and pure away from a heartless world that will crumble you up and spit you out, god knows she knows that. She wants to keep you pure and unspoiled by the horrible facts of life, untainted in the way she isn't. Your virtue and loveliness purify her, make her feel like her past doesn't have to haunt her so bad because you are here and you love her so maybe she is worth loving. She loves you so so so so much, she just wants to keep you close and safe because she doesn't want you hurt, she has to protect you.

Since Noelle does so much surveillance with you, she also knows you quite well and tends to pick a Darling that she knows will be receptive to her love and (eventually) love her as much as she loves you. Noelle's Darling tends to be someone who is overwhelmed and exhausted, afraid of the endless painful choices of life, and who wants someone to swoop in and take care of them, treating them like a precious treasured spouse while they sit loved and adored on a soft pedestal. Noelle will absolutely do this for you. She will shower you with gifts and luxury as long as you're a good girl who listens to and obeys her. She knows what's best for you, she loves you more than she loves anything, just let her protect you and everything will be okay.

When she lets you out of the house, even if you're with her and in her sight, she feels like she can't breathe. The world is dangerous and unpredictable and if something random happens and hurts you and she can't prevent it, she'll never forgive herself. She can bring anything you need inside, or she'll ask Ata for a favor and make sure no other people will be at the event to hurt you. She can protect you, she's not a little kid anymore, she's stronger now. Just please please let her protect you.

She doesn't know if she can handle it without you there at home, knowing you are waiting for her with a cuddle and a kind word, making her feel like she's worth something.

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

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I LOVED the jjk men sharing a bed! How would they react if their confident s/o suddenly turned shy because of this compliment? Bonus points if they (jjk men) don't express their love verbally much and also a little shy. So, how about Yuuta, Geto and Megumi? If you write more, can you also maybe add Gojo? Thank you so much!

Please forgive me for not adding Gojo, the Megumi part just escalated too quickly and since I'm having a little bit of a Gojo addiction, one fanfic without him won't hurt 🤍 Let me know what you think!

JJK men turning the usual confident reader shy

Pairings: Yuta x reader; Geto x reader; Megumi x reader (fem is mentioned)

Warnings: tw for Megumi's part regarding body image (contains insults), reader doubts herself

Yuta Okkotsu

You look absolutely neck breaking gorgeous in your summer dress, body hugged in just the right spots. How is this the first time Yuta has ever seen you in something apart from your uniform? Unbelievable, how unacceptable.

“Hey Yuta! Do you even recognize me?”

Your sweet voice rings through his head while you wave at him with your breathtaking smile plastered on your face. Oh, he is definitely recognizing you.

He can feel his face heat up immediately as you start walking towards him, your partially exposed legs moving so elegant that he can feel his knees go weak. Of course he was always very aware of the fact that you are a striking beautiful person, but that summer dress does things to him he can’t quite comprehend.

“Pretty unusual to see me in something else than that uniform, huh? I thought that a change of scenery doesn’t hurt and it’s my day off”, you explain briefly with your firm but tender voice.

Pure confidence is dripping from your features, it’s like you know that the world belongs to you. Well, his world does in fact. And at the moment it feels like this world spins a thousand times faster than usual.

“You look like an angel.”

The second the words slip out of his tongue, he knows that he’s fucked. Yuta never complimented you, always admired you in silence. Why did this stupid words leave his mouth? You must think he’s a freak, that he’s a disgusting pervert-

“W-what?”, you stutter.

His eyes dart towards you in surprise. There you stand, completely flustered with your cheeks redden and eyes widen in a way Yuta has never seen before. Your usual composed facial features are completely screwed up, your hand covers your mouth in a desperate attempt to hide your…embarrassment.

Are you actually shy because he complimented you?

“I’m so sorry, (y/n)! I didn’t mean to irritate you”, he babbles out.

Oh, he screwed up. You’ll probably never talk to him again, he ruined not only your friendship, but made you feel uncomfortable too. But you are so precious, how was he supposed to contain himself when you come here on this lovely summer day, looking absolutely stunning in that dress?

“I…It’s just…I guess no one ever said something so genuinely nice to me”, you mutter.

You know by the glitter of purity in his wide-open orbs that Yuta truly meant what he said. But that something so nice would come out his mouth…Of course this wasn’t the first compliment you ever got, but oh how sweet it was. Not only was his lovelier than any before, but it came from him.

Yuta. The boy you’ve been admiring since he joined Jujutsu High. The boy you’ve always thought saw nothing but an ordinary girl in you.

“That’s a shame. Honestly, I thing you are one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. Not only externally, but everything about you.”

“Stop”, you hush, hiding your face behind your hands while grinning like an idiot.

Suddenly, you feel as insecure as never before, completely thrown off track by his words. It is a little ridiculous to be honest. After all, Yuta is a nice boy and his words were simple. But you can’t remember a single time he ever complimented your looks. Basically everyone else did, whether Gojo, Panda or even Megumi. But Yuta…hearing those sweet words from Yuta’s mouth is something completely different and forces even your confident walls down.

“I’m so sorry if I made you feel bad”, Yuta apologizes.

“Feel bad? I think I never felt so good in my whole life. You are just so…sweet. Thank you.”

Your words catch him off guard and make his very own cheeks redden in an instant. You just called him sweet. (y/n), the girl he always turns his head for, the girl that lingers through his mind all day, just called him sweet.

“Uh…Thank you, (y/n)”, he mutters, heart almost beating out of his chest.

“Hey, would you mind to…To grab something to eat with me?”, you questions shyly while mindlessly tucking a strand of behind your ear.

“Yeah…sure! Let’s go!”

What an absolutely stunning way to start a day. With a new summer dress, a compliment of none other than Yuta and him by your side.

Suguru Geto

He can’t help but stare at you while you tear apart your teacher with nothing but logical arguments. It is threatening and scary to be honest, the way you carry yourself with so much pride and wisdom in your eyes. But Geto is just so mesmerized by the way your beautiful mouth works wonders, leaving everyone in the room in complete silence – even Satoru.

“You’re absolutely annoying, (y/n). But fine. We’ll do it your way, then. Now get off my sight”, Masamichi Yaga hums, rubbing his temples in complete annoyance.

With a curt bow you leave the classroom, a relieved smile plastered on your features. He doesn’t know what got into him, but the second your hair waves a last goodbye, he stands up and follows you down the hallway.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

“Oh, Geto, how nice to see you! Are you doing well? I heard your last mission was quite difficult to handle.”

There you stand with your piercing gaze darted towards him, gun of a mouth draped into a gentle smile. God, why do you have to be so gorgeous? Why is it so hard for him to keep his composure whenever you’re around? You’re just so damn strong, confidence dripping from every pore of your skilled self. Geto admired you the second you joined Jujutsu High, the first time you outsmarted Satoru and your words of wisdom that helped all of them through tough missions over and over. While he doesn’t consider himself an introvert, your presence always made his knees go weak, heart beating out of his chest. Geto tried to stay professional, to ignore the stinging presence of your striking looks and brain, but today…Today he can’t contain himself anymore.

“You’re really making a difference, (y/n). You know that?”

Your heart stops for a second, eyes widen in disbelief. You are known for your arguments and tactical skills, but Geto’s words… His oh so sweet words repeat themselves over and over again in your head. Someone might think you heard praises on a daily basis, whenever about your looks or your brain. But no. Nobody has actually told you that you matter, than your impact is really making a difference. Especially hearing this from Geto’s mouth, who’s an outstanding jujutsu sorcerer and never really complimented you in any way makes your heart drop.

“Do you…really mean it?”

Why is your voice suddenly so quiet and fragile? And why the hell are tears starting to sting in your eyes? You never cry, after all weeping doesn’t solve any problems. But his words aren’t just a random compliment, they touched your soul and filled you with love.

“Of course I mean it…I should have told you way sooner, but I really admire you. I don’t want to imagine where we would be without you…Where I would be without you. I just thought that you should know that…”

And there it is, his signature smile. The smile that could end wars with how welcoming it is.

“I didn’t know that I needed to hear something like this”, you mutter while whipping your now falling tears away with your sleeve.

Geto stops in his tracks, arms embracing you in a tight hug before he is able to stop himself.

“Don’t cry because of a simple compliment that was long overdue. I should have told you that way sooner. To be exact, every one of us should do that”, he whispers softly.

“Thank you Geto. I will always think of you when I’m doubting myself”, you sniffle, avoiding his gaze at any cost.

God, how embarrassing. But what a sweet moment this is at the same time. After all, Geto doesn’t compliment and hold you in his arms on a regular basis.

Megumi Fushiguro

It was never your style to cry about anything or anyone. But his words. His cruel words repeat themselves over and over inside your head.

I always thought you’re a little ugly anyway.

Maybe lose some weight before you talk to me again.

C’mon (y/n), she’s just prettier than you.

You should have known better. You should have known that your now ex-boyfriend means nothing but trouble, that he was never really in love and spit his venomous words exclusively to hit you where it hurts.

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re sitting on the stairs on this lovely summer day while crying your eyes out. Maybe you really aren’t good enough. Your nose is too big, your eyes are too small, your face is a little too round to be lovely. And your body. God, at the moment you truly hate the way your own frame looks.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here, (y/n).”

Your body tenses up immediately while you try to wipe away your falling tears, hiding your face in sheer embarrassment. No, what on earth is Megumi Fushiguro doing here right now? You definitely don’t want him to see you cry, to admit that your ex was trash like he always said.

“Are you alright?”

His nearing footsteps vibrate through the stairs, making you fall into panic mode in an instant. No, please. You really want to be alone right now, you-

“Hey, what happened?”, his soft voice questions.

His long legs come to a stand to your left.

“None of your business, Fushiguro. I’m not in the mood to get picked at by you”, you mumble.

The second he sits down next to you, you immediately turn your body away from him. No way in hell is he seeing you cry today.

“To get picked at by me? You should know me better, (y/n). I can see clearly that you aren’t fine”, he responses, his tone showing his disappointment without a glimpse in his dark blue orbs.

Your eyes begin to water again at the sound of his voice.

“It seems like all I am is a disappointment these days I guess.”

He shifts his weight beside you, body drawing closer to yours. You are such a confident and outgoing person, it doesn’t suit you at all to sit on the stairs and cry. Something that really hurt must have happened. His features darken, hands balling into fists. Oh, he knows exactly what has happened.

“Did he say that, (y/n)? Did your boyfriend say such things to you?”

Megumi really tries to stay calm, to let his voice sound soft and unbothered, but he really wants to punch this jerk right now. It seems like he never really understood what a breathtaking gorgeous girl you are, that you could do so much better than this.

“He isn’t my boyfriend anymore”, you reply, your voice more bitter than you actually feel about that fact.

The relationship’s end isn’t what makes you feel this way. After all, you always knew that this was in no was a forever thing, that it was more like a pastime. But his cruel words simply leave you completely shattered, your heart scarred so deep that you can’t ignore it.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

You snort while side-eyeing Megumi.

“Sorry? Don’t be ridiculous. You never missed a chance to pick on me about him”, you comment dryly.

Oh, if you only knew. Megumi would never admit it, but he simply hated the idea of you having a boyfriend like him – a boyfriend who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve it when he could. Megumi would give you the world, he would carry you on his hands through every highs and lows.

But he would never admit that to you. Instead, he makes stupid comments about every little thing you do in a frantic attempt to keep himself together. Because if you ever catch a glimpse of his true feelings towards you, you’d probably never talk to him again.

“Might be true, but you’re feeling bad already.”

Not this time though. Not when you’re sitting next to him while being a complete mess, not when your puffy cheeks are proof enough than you sat here and cries for a while.

“You boys just never fail to hurt me I guess.”

“I would never hurt you”, he responses immediately, tongue faster than his mind.

Slowly, you turn your body to face him and his heart drops. You look nothing like yourself anymore, heartbroken in every way. What the hell happened?

“I couldn’t care less about the fact that he ended things. But I just feel like it was my fault partially. I guess I wasn’t attractive enough for him”, you mumble through your veil of tears.

Megumi can’t help but stare at you in disbelief. Did you really just say that? Did that jerk make you believe that you aren’t beautiful, that you aren’t worth his puny self? How ridiculous to even think that.

But he can tell by the hurt in your eyes that it must be true. Thick anger begins to rise inside Megumi.

“Did he say that, (y/n)? Did he say anything that implied that you’re not good looking?”, he asks with empty voice.

You cleverly avoid his gaze as you nod carefully. Megumi’s world stops for a moment. It’s so ridiculous, so unbelievable wrong for him that someone called the most beautiful human being on earth anything less than that.

“You have to be kidding, right? Because all I’m seeing is that you’re absolutely stunning. I could watch you for a lifetime, (y/n). You are so breathtaking that it hurts, everyone turns their heads after you. Don’t get me started on the way you are probably the only one that looks good in ratty pajamas, your stunning hair, well-formed hips or breathtaking eyes. For real, I’m convinced that all love songs have to be about you. Don’t let a jerk like him bring you down, don’t you dare to believe a single word of the bullshit he said, you heard me?”

He breathes heavy while all you can do is stare at him. No more tears fall from your cheeks, no more sniffles are heard. No, complete silence hangs between the two of you while Megumi immediately regrets his words. Maybe he took it too far, you must think that he’s a total freak for saying such things.

“Is this…really how you feel about me?”, you softly ask, your arms crossed in front of your chest.

Fuck, your body immediately slips away a few inches, your hands feverishly playing with your hair. But something about your face changes. Is this a slight blush creeping up your puffy cheeks? And it almost looks like a small smile is forming on your delicate lips.

“I always felt that way about you, (y/n). Don’t think I’d made things up just to make you feel better”, he mutters while scratching his head.

“Oh”, you simply blur out while swallowing heavy.

Why the hell is he always acting this dumb when it comes to you? Megumi should know better, he is very aware of the fact that you and him will never be a thing, that he simply isn’t in your league. But now he probably ruined your friendship too.

Suddenly, your arms grip his tightly while you press your face against his shoulder. His heart drops into his pants, eyes wide open at this outburst. The two of you didn’t even share a hug until now.

“Thank you, Megumi. Your words mean the world to me”, you cry out, grabbing his arms even tighter than before.

Is he allowed to…touch you? Carefully, he places his hand on your back and begins to rub it in small circles.

“And you mean the world to me”, he speaks out, more to himself than to you.

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istharoth · 4 days ago

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I fear Haku has taken back the position Rui stole from him. Flower symbolism go boom. (I fell in love again.) Flower and a bit of design study! :D [I think the Haku stans should come together and make a zine about him haha,, unless]

Witty Priest: Lotus: Pure heart, Rest, Sacred, Eloquence, Serenity, and Love that leaves. The three Koi in his card represent the stages of life, from birth to death.

Unworldly Respite: Juniper berries: Protection, Trust, Salvation. White Chrysanthemum: Truth, Adoration, Sincere heart. OR White Gerbera: Unsullied heart. Red anemone: I love you. White Camellia: Perfect beauty, Impeccable charm, and Supreme loveliness.

Ordinary Happiness:

Amana Edulis - "luck will come to you." or Anemone americana - "expectation and joy."

Heliopsis Helianthoides - Longing, adoration, seduction.

Blue Roses: Symbolise the impossible.

White Roses: sincere respect, innocence. Usually, white and blue roses are given as a gift. The blue roses in there would represent blessings while the white ones represent love.

White baby's breath: dreaminess

Veronica: Honor, fidelity, bright home Periwinkle: Happy memories.

Pink rose: warm heart, having love, pledge of love, happiness, gratitude, elegance, and prettiness. Pink rose petals: "Have love," "My heart you only know." FYI for this part: There's no actual Japanese meaning I could find for the petals, but because it's a part of the pink roses, let's be delulu and take it as such.

Additionally, on Haku's vest, there are: Vines with flowers: Beauty and growth intertwined. Vines with leaves: Renewal and continuous personal development. Also, "Good marriage" if the vine ends up being the Chinese Creeper.

[He uses a few Chinese symbols in his design, so if I got the knots wrong, I'd appreciate if you could correct me!!!]

@ghoulspaw @kusanagihaku I think you guys will like this hehe, (ALSO SORRY FOR THE TAG DUHSJBS)

#studying genshin lore payed off for this very moment #+ taking that one flower language my crush was taking also payed off hehe #tokyo debunker #istha rambles #haku kusanagi #istha thoughts #Now to look for other characters who have flowers in their cards so I can make a post for them #tdb

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year ago

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gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 5: Resolve

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, all! I know, it’s so soon! But this one is a cobbled-together piece of stuff you’ve already seen, just padded out a bit more. I figured I might as well push it on out now, so here ya go! Featuring Jason Lannister for the very first time, to finally bring all this shit together a bit more cohesively. As always, thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs for reading though this and reassuring me it isn’t total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, age gap, general Daemon grottiness, allusions to non-consensual sexual situations.

According to most, Daemon Targaryen is a man in possession of little capacity for feeling beyond what is required to partake in lechery and barbarism. He knows himself; his disparagers are not entirely wrong. Except for one important, essential truth—he would die for his family. He loves his family.

Love, as he understands it, is what he has always felt when looking upon his brother, upon Rhaenyra. No matter the strife that has torn him from his kin time and time again, he can freely acknowledge that such sentiments will remain everlasting.

A kicked hound is one most loyal, he thinks with no small degree of bitterness. Or perhaps the meanest hound is more loyal. Either way, I am the hound—and my master, the king.

Love is what has wrenched harsh and twisting in his heart whenever he laid eyes on you, a toddling girl-child eternally eager for the cossetting attentions of your uncle, your kepa—and he had always been kepa, never Viserys, no, your father had never received an honour beyond being called ‘papa’ like any common pauper—now a stranger in so many ways.

The garden and the morning repast had served to ignite the wellspring of all his wildest desires, delivering to him seemingly all he had ever wanted in a prospective bride—young and beautiful, obedient and good-tempered, Valyrian of colouring and of status. But you had seemed smaller than your younger self, trapped in a prison of your own making, hidden beneath layers and layers of chaste courtesy and painstaking banality. And then, accompanying you to the Dragonpit had given him a curious glimpse into the power you kept hidden, the ancient strength of your lineage slipping through the cracks in your genteel veneer.

Regal. Arcane. These are the words that had come to mind watching you interact with your mount, none other than the famed Cannibal himself. Something of the majesty of the Conqueror lay within you, waiting for the necessary spark to kindle the flame. Your exchange with Athfiezar—your silent fearlessness, your devotion to your savage beast, your unassuming poise—reminds him that, for all your equally meek and mild-mannered nature, you are still Targaryen. You are still his sweetling.

It is this that elicits a consuming curiosity to know more.

You are an interesting puzzle, a strange contradiction, one whose buttermilk skin and pert teats and spit-shine lips should herald as a welcome to sample the delights hidden by the fabric of your darling little gowns. Yet, you act not as a silly young thing learning of her sway over men—teasing with fluttering lashes and bit lip and lilting tone as Rhaenyra had—but as a docile girl disinclined to press the limits of propriety as all maidens do. You ride the most savage dragon in the known world, and yet there is no such quality in you that echoes your mount’s disposition; instead, a loveliness that is near to cloying, pure and unadulterated and surely too good to be true. You are a fucking princess, and yet you are perfectly content to fade into the periphery, drawing little notice to yourself and seeking none from those around you, not even your own blood. A scholar, quick-witted and erudite, but somehow still so sweetly unknowing of the depravities that rule the minds of men who lay eyes on you.

You fascinate him. And his newfound realisation does not lessen his temptation to fuck you—to ply you with praise and charm and no small hint of avuncular affection (the reminder of your shared blood thrills him to the bone as always) so that, over time, you might be swayed to give your maidenhead to him—but, rather, that it results in a metamorphosis, a muddling, his longing mingling the base needs of the flesh with a rekindling of his fondness for you.

Which is why he cannot stand the presence of Jason Lannister.

“Why are you entertaining this farce?” Daemon asks, fists clenched at his sides. “A pompous fuck like him has no business anywhere near her.”

“Whatever is the problem, brother?” Viserys says distractedly, hunching over his miniature of Old Valyria and studying the replica of the Targaryen manse on the outskirts with intent. “Jason Lannister is Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. By any standard, I would think he is the best contender for her hand.”

That fucking model of his. Daemon resists the urge to smash the king’s stone city into rubble, though doing so might grant him the attentiveness he is sorely lacking from the man. “Are you not hearing me? He’s an arrogant cunt. He’d bore her in a sennight, let alone whatever hellish span of time an entire marriage would last.”

Viserys hums noncommittally. “She will make do”—he waves Daemon off—“as all noblewomen must when their fathers command them to marry. That is her lot in life. Besides, Lord Jason is one of the wealthiest men in the realm, and I am told he is rather pleasing to a lady’s eye. She could do worse than he.”

His brother’s remark is a fair one—of the trio, Jason is the preferable choice. And what a fucking miserable choice it would be.

He rolls his eyes. This is going nowhere. “And Tyrell? Your idiot son? Are they the ‘worse’ you speak of?”

Between that foppish peacock, his spiteful little twit of a nephew and the prancing lion, the latter just barely scrapes by as the best of the bunch.

“Enough, Daemon.” The king sighs, finally deigning to look up from his pile of rock. “These are the suitors she herself has chosen. I care not for the particulars, only that the girl should be wed before her eighteenth name day. Each of them possesses some quality I am sure she finds worthwhile…” At that, he pauses, brow furrowing. He squints up at Daemon. “What is your interest in the matter, anyway? It has naught to do with you.”

Shit. Daemon makes an evasive comment—something about sullying the purity of their noble lineage—and departs as quickly as he can, eager to escape the risk of Viserys’s suspicion falling on him. It would not do for the man to suspect his intentions toward yet another of his daughters.

He does not intend to seek you and the lord out, truly, but it nonetheless does not surprise him to realise that, upon freeing himself from the wrathful spiral of his own musings, his feet have taken him to the very same garden where he had first laid eyes upon you again after so many years, where you are now enduring the attentions of the insufferable Lannister patriarch. On this occasion, Cole is nowhere to be seen, and the entry is instead guarded by one of the Cargyll twins.

Daemon spies you on the path just inside, a careful distance placed between you and Jason. Though he cannot make out your expression from his vantage point, he observes well enough the flourishing bow the lord proffers in your direction, the polite curtsey you extend in return, his smug prancing step as he leaves your company. He sees the manner in which your shoulders droop, your head bowing as you turn to wander past the great tree and out of sight. My poor girl.

And then his view is blocked by a garish wash of red and gold.

“Prince Daemon,” Jason says with a haughty simper. With a curt nod, Daemon wordlessly returns the salutation. His lack of warmth is noticed. The Lannister lord hesitates for a moment before returning to his condescending civilities, forcing a relaxed stance. “I was most glad to hear of your return.”

He doubts that. There is little love lost between him and the lord. Jerking his chin toward the garden, he asks, “Leaving so soon, are we? I had thought the entire afternoon was devoted to this little outing.”

Jason chuckles awkwardly. “Well.” He scratches his beard. “The princess has another engagement to attend to. Something about a tutor.”

Thank the gods for that Lysan fellow. They had never met, but Daemon is certain he’d like the man well enough.

“Doesn’t concern you?” he asks, scarcely bothering to conceal the scepticism from his tone. At the confusion on Lannister’s face, he clarifies. “That she’d rather spend time with her tutor than with you?”

“Why would it, my prince?” is the answer, self-assured as ever. “He is old, and frail. Best for her to spend as much time with him as she can before she leaves for Lannisport.”

That genuinely irritates him, and not simply the notion of you being shipped off to the lurid monstrosity that is Casterly Rock. Even he knows that your meetings with your tutor are less obligations and more gatherings of friendship—your spirit would surely crumble if you were denied your dearest companion after being coerced to marry.

Daemon suppresses a sneer. “Your confidence is… admirable.” If misplaced, he wants to add.

“There is little competition to be found,” Jason says with a toss of the head. His tawny hair rustles in the gentle breeze, giving him the appearance of the sigil his house has claimed. Fucking ridiculous. Then, the man has the audacity to clap a palm against his arm. “Never fear—I shall take utmost care of her. She’ll want for nothing as my lady wife.”

He shrugs off the over-familiarity, stepping out of reach. “For a time, perhaps. And in a decade? Two? A princess of the realm has no business playing nursemaid to her husband in his dotage.”

He is older than I, he thinks. And if she is truly considering him above the others, then…

“I might be the eldest of her suitors, yes,” the man says, a tense smile disguising his offense poorly. “But I have a rather substantial inheritance, unlike the Prince Aegon, and my constitution is more… pleasing than the Lord Tyrell, I’m sure.” His mouth curves into a knowing smirk at that, leaving Daemon with no uncertainty as to what he really means. That little— “I would not dismiss Jason Lannister from the competition just yet. She will choose me. I suggest you accustom yourself to reality, Prince Daemon.”

He grunts dismissively, incensed. There is no reply he can give in this moment that won’t incite the Lannisters to break faith with House Targaryen; and so, he chooses to remove himself from the odious man’s presence entirely, stalking past with nary a word of farewell.

You sit where your younger half-sister had a scarce moon’s turn ago, eyes fixed toward your lap, turning an ornament about with your small fingers. As he nears, the lion salient glimmers in the sun, gold against gold in dazzling vulgarity. Of course, he’d gifted her something with his own fucking sigil on it. What a worthless bequest.

When he calls your name, you hardly react. Your gaze flickers up to him for a mere moment before falling once more, resuming your surveyance of the item in your grasp. There is a pensive expression lingering in your frown, the crease in your brow. It tells him all he needs to know of your true feelings for the Lannister lord, regardless of the man’s own delusions.

“Why—you look positively miserable, sweetling,” he says, settling himself beside you. You glance up at him again, sullen pout puffing out your lower lip. Though your disposition is so downtrodden, it is tempting to press his thumb to that lip, to push inside and feel the wet warmth of your tongue pulse against his flesh in a coquettish tease. “Not enjoying being courted? The gifts, the attention, the romance…”

You take the bait beautifully. Starting at his reference to the pendant in your hold, your nostrils flare exasperatedly. “No. No. I—I just—” You stop, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

“Go on,” he cajoles gently, lowly. “Tell Uncle Daemon.”

It is all the encouragement you need. “There is little romance to be found in this—this charade.” You sigh, eyes fixed on some minute detail past his head. He’s struck by the melancholy in your voice. “These men—Lord Jason, Lord Denys, Aegon—they do not want me. They want an idea of me. A Targaryen bride with pale hair and Valyrian blood. One who will give them children they shall make little effort to raise, a silent doll to clasp onto and show off at feasts and balls… as though possessing me is somehow meaningful. They do not—they do not see me.”

It’s here your voice cuts off strangely. He wishes it hadn’t, for he finds himself enthralled by the mournful monologue that paints a picture of the loneliest girl in King’s Landing. There is something yearning and haunted in that saccharine stare of hers, he thinks. A babe with her arms held out, wailing at the world as it leaves her abandoned in the crib. It’s an eerie echo of a conversation that took place a decade prior, though the lead role lacks the infantile petulance of the previous star.

He finds himself retracing those steps almost without realising.

“Idīnnon dēmalio syt verdilla mērī issa. Dīnakson toliot, gaoso gaomagon kostas.” He is testing, prodding, waiting for what might result from his efforts. Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like.

The words make your cheeks flush fetchingly and your brow wrinkle once more, glancing back at him apprehensively. Pretty pink girl with a pretty pink blush; how far down does it spread? You swallow—pause—look away, wrestling with a thought. You peep back up at him.

“Se skorverdon jessivo aōt kesrȳsi jiōrtas?” you ask with surprising cynicism. You exhale loudly, staring at some fixed point in the distance. “Ābrazȳri buttā, riñar daor, mērpāves… Tolī jaelan.”

And how much joy did this bring you? you say. A wife you hated, no children, loneliness… I want more. The quiet longing in your voice is palpable.

He grimaces at the mention of his bronze bitch—he’d rather not know how widespread the knowledge of the circumstances around her… accident… had been in the wake of his departure.

“What is it you want, then?” he asks, switching back to the Common Tongue, the corner of his mouth already contorting in anticipation of the naïve response. True love, a happily ever after… We don’t get to have happy endings, he thinks to himself.

“I want someone who loves me,” you say, pressing on crossly at the huff of laughter that escapes him. “I never said I would love him!”

The pessimistic elucidation takes him aback. Again, it is not exactly what he had been expecting. Full of surprises today. He tips his head consideringly at you, inviting you to continue.

You hesitate for a moment.

“I… They say my father loved my mother. I believe it, but—” You swallow, the corners of your mouth turning down as you mull over your words. “They say he had a choice when baby Baelon was born. That he could cut her open to get the babe out, but that it would mean her certain death.”

Gods above. Where in the seven hells had you learned that piece of information? Viserys had kept the circumstances of Aemma’s death under tight wraps, never even deigning to mention it to his own brother. It was pure happenstance that one of the maids he enjoyed fucking at the time had been present on the unfortunate day.

Your eyes glisten as you speak, limpid pools of lilac glowing like fire in the light. “I do not think I could ever choose my own life over my child’s—but they say he did not even ask her, that he just… held her down while they—How could I ever trust a man to raise the babe I bore him if he would be willing to butcher his own wife in her childbed?”

He watches as you clench your eyes tight, set your jaw and exhale a few shuddery breaths. When they blink open, they are no longer so tear-bright. Daemon suddenly admires you for it, for the way you so ruthlessly suppress weakness. He wonders how often you’ve been made to force back your pain for the good of your family.

“What happened to your mother was a terrible tragedy, sweetling.” He reaches forward to finally grip your small, pale hand in his. It is cold and dwarfed entirely by his own. “But you cannot live in fear forever.”

You make to pull your hand away. He closes his grip tighter upon it, coercing you to look up at him properly.

“When hope is gone, what choice left is there but fear?” It is a whisper, carried on the breeze, and the thinly veiled misery pains him in the chest, right in his heart.

I thought that beating thing was black and dead by now, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head, smile. The picture of the melancholy maiden fades from view as you affect an appearance of energy once more, gentle and muted as it is. “I know my father loved my mother, and so love is no guarantee of loyalty. But it would be helpful, I think.”

“You see love and loyalty as intertwined, then?” he cannot help but ask. He is intrigued by this rare showing of spirit, of vitality, a resurrection of his baby niece from long ago. It is you, finally—his little girl, only now you possess the curves of a gold-gilded whore and the thousand-year gaze of an ancient, arcane being.

“Do you not?” Your head is tilted like an inquisitive bird’s, artlessly assessing. “You cannot have one without the other. Loyalty without love makes for an easy traitor, and love without loyalty makes for an unhappy marriage.”

He laughs again at the latter part of your pronouncement. A sweet, trusting little filly waiting to be broken in.

“There are many ways to love someone, princess.” He ogles you shamelessly, savouring the affectation of outraged bewilderment painting your countenance. “I imagine you’ll find few of them in the marriage bed.”

He waits for you to question him—to ask him what he means, to ask him to explain, to teach you, show you—but instead, you pull back, taking all the warmth from his palm with you.

“I dislike your implication, Uncle,” you say stiffly, returning your hand to your lap and nestling it between your thighs to retain the heat.

Fuck.

He backtracks raising his hands in a jesting show of defeat. “I meant nothing by it, gevivys.”

Beauty. It is an apt title. An underwhelming one, even. Surely there is little else more beautiful than the sight you make here, now, a rich blush spreading along the unblemished expanse of your chest—regrettably enclosed by pale damask just above the protrusion of your tits—the planes of your throat, not quite travelling up to decorate your cheeks.

You sigh. “You never do.”

Daemon lets the conversation lull, deciding to instead look upon the little revelation before him. You are an interesting puzzle, one whose decorum in the face of his gentle compulsion—that same persuasion he had so often utilised to get fetching girls to strip bare for him and show off their equally-as-fetching cunts—had instead left him lacking. The body of a slut and the mind of a scholar, all wrapped up in wide eyes and honey-sweet words and wild hair the shade of Old Valyria. Of home.

A wild thought seizes him. If he leans forward, he could do it. He could grip you by the back of the neck and pull you to him, press his lips to yours and coax you past your panic and fear and into a hot, sweeping rhythm, a push and pull of tongue and teeth that would set you both alight. And from there, how simple would it be to murmur pretty praise as he lowers you down, raises your skirts up, cleaves you open until your blood wets his cock with the proof of his claim, incontestable, not even by the king himself? The deed would be messy, perhaps distressing and no doubt painful, but it would solve several issues at once. He would be free to do as he likes with his lascivious desires after you are made to wed him, and you would be free from your pitiful suitors and given a husband worthy of you. In time, the hurt and shock and fright would fade, he knows it.

He could. He could. He—

The spell is broken. Your attention is diverted by the yells of a dark-haired boy as he bowls his way to you, throwing himself across your lap with a cry of your name. Daemon tries not to glare at young Lucerys as he tries to roughhouse with you. Having somewhat learned the schedules of his family, it baffles him somewhat that the child is not at his daily lessons. Should Laenor not have him now?

The thought must conjure the man himself, the Velaryon scion appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Laenor’s expression is forbidding as he strides over to you and his son, silver locs swinging with the velocity of each step. With his glare affixed to his face, he reaches a hand down to you in silent command, staring daggers at Daemon all the while.

What the hells is his problem?

You take hold of your goodbrother, bewildered, and allow him to tug you gently from the bench beside Daemon. Lucerys slides from beside you with a rustle, easily revolving around to dart toward the grass. You are already grabbing at the boy’s wrist to stop him running off.

Daemon watches Laenor attempt to rearrange his countenance into something less violent. “Would you take Luke off to the training yards, sister?”

A look of vague incomprehension crosses your face at the question. At least she senses the oddity, too, he acknowledges.

Laenor’s head turns down to where he sits, and it is then that it dawns on him that his nephew-by-marriage has very possibly been watching him stare at his baby niece’s tits for longer than he can claim plausible deniability of.

Ah, shit. The darting, mistrustful gaze suddenly makes sense.

“Of course, Laenor,” you say sweetly, biddably.

Daemon cannot help but wonder what else you might comply with if gently persuaded. He glances up at you from where he sits, smirking as you turn to him.

“It seems we must part for now, sweetling,” he tells you. He ignores Laenor’s grimace from behind you.

“It does.” You shift lightly. It is clear to see that there is something about your shared conversation that has unnerved you. The notion sends a trail of perverse excitement through him. He wonders what other reactions he might prompt out of you with gentle teasing. “I—thank you, Uncle. For listening.”

The words are honest, free of artifice. It is surprisingly warming to hear. When you make to depart, he calls you back.

“What—no goodbye kiss for your beloved uncle this time?” he asks, hoping he’ll bait you into action. He determinedly disregards Laenor’s huff, eyes trained on you as you swallow with trepidation before quickly making the short few steps back to him.

Your knee settles on the seat beside him, clearly meant to be no more than a brief resting place so that you may carry out his implicit request and leave—if not for the way in which your skirts gather around your leg in a manner assured to result in your toppling over should you attempt to rise without fixing them. Daemon turns his head to yours as you free yourself from the tangle. Up close, closer than he would ever dare get usually, he can see each lash that frames your eyes, the hairs that sprout from your brows, the slick cherry bloom of your mouth—a whisper-sweet gather of plump, plush fruit he wants, needs, to take a bite from.

Would you let me, little girl? he wonders.

You gasp, a short little breath of surprise, and lurch away lightly at the closeness. A brave little thing, you return to him, pressing those precious petal-soft lips to the skin of his cheek. Your covered breasts press involuntarily against his arm.

Fucking hells.

“Sȳz bantis, kepus.” Good evening, Uncle, you say in that light little accent of yours, an unintended provocation of his basest yearnings.

With that, you bundle the boy up in your capable little hands and make for your destination, the Cargyll knight falling into formation behind you.

“Care to explain—well, all of that?” Laenor asks.

Oh—yes. Daemon pushes himself from his seat, deliberately stalling while he thinks of a response that isn’t what the fuck how the fuck when the fuck and why.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says idly, slyly, glancing over at him.

“No!” His goodnephew leans forward into his space. He is taken aback by the vehemence in his tone, uncharacteristic of the bumbling, affable man. “You don’t get to do this to her. Not this one. Not this time.”

“Whatever do you think I plan to do to her?” Daemon laughs, wondering at the answer himself.

Whatever would she let me do to her?

Laenor sighs, steps back.

“Look.” He nudges him to walk alongside as they make for the garden’s entry. “She’s not one of your whores, Daemon. She’s just a girl. She’s not the type to play your twisted little games, so leave her be—please.”

He is warmed by the defence of your goodbrother, an admission of familiarity and care that is sure to have flourished since the man’s entrance into the family some years ago.

“What makes you think I have any intention of—how did you put it—playing games with her?” If he were a little less honest with himself, he would be affronted by the manner in which Laenor has jumped straight to an accusation. But Lord Flea Bottom’s reputation is inescapable, even after so many years. “Perhaps my objective is pure and wholesome.”

“Right.” Laenor snorts, shaking his head as he folds his hands behind his back. “You’re far more likely to fall in with her horde of suitors than to believably claim familial interest.”

True. And yet… why not? He’s conceived all manner of plots to satiate his wants, from drunken fumbles in the dark to his half-baked impulse from but a moment ago. Unlike his previous conquests, though, he doubts the need will dissipate after a single fuck. You are too important to him—his precious girl turned darkest desire, the only woman he could ever deign to carry on his line with.

Viserys has been pressuring him to seek out a bride. He mightn’t be happy with the prospect of his brother asking for his daughter’s hand, exactly, but there is surely no debate that he is the best contender. Not Jason. Not Denys. Not fucking Aegon. Daemon. And, well, if the asking should go poorly—how simple would it be to whisk you away to Dragonstone, to speak the vows and seal the deed before it can be undone? There is no risk this time, no Iron Throne to lose, no treaty or agreement that cannot be broken…

He can see it now. Your sweet little face peering up at him, marked with his blood, lip dripping red with the pledge of entangling your souls together in savage Valyrian custom. Your pretty little eyes wide with maidenly shock as he breaches your untried cunt, tight and pulsing and hotwetwarm, binding you to him irrevocably. The slow waddling of your gait as you round with child, his child, his sweetest babe bringing forth life of her own, belly ripe with seed and leaking his spend—

“Laenor,” he says slowly, eyes glinting as his lips upturn in a wide grin, “I do believe you have the best ideas.”

Read the story on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/120880855

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schoenpepper · 3 months ago

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Intro: You choose the rose brooch.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, photos aren't mine

A/N: Kyotie babygirl angel I am officially incoherent

Masterlist

The rose brooch is a nice touch to your outfit, and you hope that when Riddle sees you like this, he'll blush so hard that his face will turn the color of his hair. Unfortunately, you don't find him in the ballroom. Now, if you were a redheaded angel with a penchant for collaring troublemakers, where would you go?

There's a garden in the back of the banquet hall. Not roses, but you think it'll have to do.

You find him sitting down on the edge of a fountain in the garden, his wings stretching behind him in a graceful manner. He's looking off into the distance and is surprised when you take a seat beside him. "Good evening, Y/N. I see you've taken my invitation." Beautiful blue-gray eyes scan your figure, stopping at the rose brooch pinned to your chest. "It looks lovely on you."

"Thank you." You think he looks lovelier.

The moonlight catches on the pure white suit he's wearing, reminiscent of his wings. When he smiles at you, you're blinded by how downright stunning he looks. Or maybe it's just his halo reflecting the light. "To be perfectly honest with you, I didn't have too much confidence that you would choose me. While I am the optimal choice, I am aware that plenty of other eligible bachelors have sent their own invitations."

His words rip a laugh out of you.

"For someone who's supposedly 'not confident', you sure don't seem like it." You murmur in amusement, and Riddle chuckles.

"Maybe it's because I felt a connection—one that I knew...you felt too."

Slowly, his hand moves closer to yours. Your pinkies link together as you both turn your heads the other way. "Maybe...I do feel that connection." You whisper back.

maybe it's maybelline???

"I'm the future Saint; I'm not supposed to fall in love." His words bring you crashing back to reality. But he catches you before you fall splat on the ground.

"But I love you. And nothing, no one, not even the God of Light, can change that anymore."

Try Again?

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader

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greensbeanspotatoestomatoes · 4 months ago

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Alright so this one is based on this post, of the lovely fairy AU by the lovelier @lara-cairncross<3

Some content warnings maybe?? if there's anything else let me know. Mentions of over stimulation and hints of the ol’ autism. Also mentions of dying although although that doesn't happen!!

Anyways I hope you enjoy!

==========

He swears he didn’t mean to do it. He was just having one of those days, y’know?

The morning started off fine, he even got the hinges on his new project to work flawlessly! It’s just, he dropped his screwdriver. And then he dropped the nails. And then the workshop got too crowded and noisy. And, by then, The Feeling had set in.

Luckily, it didn’t Feel like full shut down. But it did make his mouth feel sour, and his head heavy and his skin all prickly. All in all, Donnie was in a Bad Mood. Just not bad enough to miss visiting April later though. He hoped.

April had introduced them to the Clumsy Big Box of Colours last week, and he was just dying to get a good look at how it all worked. How did those big, clumsy hands put those little miniatures into the Box and make them move? With speaking and music too!

At first they’d been horrified. His brothers thought the Clumsies had captured and de-winged fairies for their entertainment! But after April reassured them that it wasn’t anything like that, that it was purely Clumsy technology, Donnie had been hungry to figure out how it worked.

Unfortunately Mikey had started to feel a bit queasy in the bright light and colours of the Box, so April turned it off, much to Donnie’s dismay. But she promised him he could take a look at it when they visited again next week. Well it's been seven days and he hasn't been able to take his mind off the Box. He’s itching to get a look at it. And his family doesn’t have another gap in their schedule to fly to April for a while. So he has to go today. Bad Mood be damned.

But minutes start to feel like hours as the day drags on and every minor inconvenience becomes 10 times more aggravating. Donnie’s tense and quiet during the flight, just allowing the voices of his family to wash over him. It soothes him a little and his head feels less jumbled by the time they make it to the Main Land. It doesn’t take them long to reach April’s house, with Leo flying them at his top speed. She spots them a couple of seconds before they arrive, always seeming to know exactly when they’re coming. April throws open her windows with a smile and a bright “Hey guys! Come on in!”

They touch down on the kitchen island among the bowls of fruit. Raph immediately gets his hands on a strawberry to munch on, tossing one to Leo as well. April chuckles at their antics, and giggles when Mikey flutters up to her hair to admire her new headband, before spotting Donnie quiet on the counter.

“Oh Dee! The TV’s in the other room, c’mon.”

She reaches her hand out, palm up and some of the tension drains from his shoulders. He has his brace on, fully capable of flight, but the thought of putting his wings to use right now feels so draining, so he gladly takes her offered lift.

April walks them to the TV room, making short work of the journey that would have been a mission for him to fly. “It’s all set up, the power’s off so you won’t get a shock, so tinker to your heart’s content! Just, uh, try and put it all back in the right place?”

He just nods his head along to her words as April sets him down next to the Big Box of Colours. “Well, here you go. Uh, we’ll be in the kitchen, Mike wants to learn how baking works,” she chuckles, “Give me a shout if you need anything.” And with that she gives him a smile before turning back to the kitchen, “Enjoy!”

And then Donnie is alone with the Box. Shaking out the buzzing in his bones, he sets his toolbelt down and gets to work on the most interesting piece of equipment he’s ever laid eyes on.

So he promises it was an accident. He had felt so excited about this opportunity. But he underestimated the complexity of the Box and he was quickly growing frustrated at his inability to understand it. And the sounds of April and his brothers in the kitchen were starting to make his head pound.

And a half an hour later, when April came to check up on him, she didn’t know she was doing anything wrong. She just thought she was getting his attention. But she poked him, and Donnie did the thing he always does when one of his brothers pokes him while he’s working, or when his head is sore, or when he’s in a Bad Mood. He turns his head and he bites.

“Ow!!”

Now, he knows April is a Clumsy. He knows fairy bites are toxic to them. He knows his bite is the most poisonous of his whole family’s. So he knows that under no circumstances should he ever bite April. But in his Bad Mood he’d forgotten it all. And with dawning horror, he realises it might have just cost his best friend her life.

“April!!”

“Donnie!”

He hears his big brother shout his name, when Mikey and Leo shout for April, and the shock and fear in Raph’s voice is just too much. All of the Bad Mood comes surging up and he feels his eyes start to wet.

They're flying towards him and April, but Donnie can do nothing as he watches his venom course through April’s veins, slowly killing her. His brothers frantically fly around her, asking her all sorts of questions, but April tries to shoo them away. “It’s just a little bite,” she says clutching her finger, “Don’t worry guys, I’m fine!”

“No you’re not!” Donnie shouts, “I bit you, and fairy bites are fatal to Clumsies!”

April goes quiet. They all do. They're waiting. Eventually, after a minute of nothing happening, April speaks. “Is something supposed to happen? Nothing’s wrong.”

In the silence, Leo touches down on the table next to Donnie. He looks up at April, then to Donnie, then to Raph who landed next to him as well. “...No you should definitely feel bad. Dee’s bite is pretty quick working.”

Mikey still flutters worriedly between his brothers and April. “Do you guys think… it’s related to the voice thing?”

‘The voice thing?’

Raph puts it together first. “April is immune!” he cries suddenly. “It;s the same reason she can understand us! April is immune to fairy poison!”

Relief washes through Donnie because it makes sense. April can hear them, when humans shouldn't be able to. She always knows when they’re coming, and she didn't die when he bit her. April is immune.

Tears that never quite left, spring to his eyes again. “April I'm so so sorry, I should never have bit you. We didn't know. And you could've died, and it would've been all my fault–”

“Hey.” She kneels down next to the table so her eyes are level with his, “It’s alright Dee. You didn't mean it. And I’m perfectly fine. It’s even more proof that I’m the specialist snowflake,” she puts on her smug grin, like she always does, and laughs. Donnie gives a wet chuckle too.

“How about we leave the tinkering and watch something on the TV instead? Something black and white so the colours don’t affect Mikey. The muffins are almost done too and we can have a snack while we watch. The TV will always be here another day if you want to take a look then. So what do you say?”

She holds out her hand, offering him another lift, and he easily takes it again.

They end up watching some historic Clumsy movie that April calls a classic, munching on pieces of warm muffin. Mikey and Leo pass out relatively quick and Donnie sits leaning against Raph. They’re on April’s lap, which means the people he loves are all nearby and all healthy and safe.

His Bad Mood felt a little less bad after that.

===========

Is Leo my favourite character? Yes. Do i keep writing Donnie-centric stories? Also yes.

I do plan to write on the others soon though, I swear I have other ideas y'all, this one just wrote the easiest.

Also RIP Frida, you're not mentioned bc I have no idea who you are yet. </3

#im tired rn #i might make changes tomorrow who knows #i just really wanted to finish this tonight #rottmnt #rottmnt fairy au #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt april #bean writes #also that scene where raph figures it out was going to refrence his medical knowledge but i couldnt make it work lol

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cinnbar-bun · 1 year ago

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Mornings With You… (Crocodile x Reader)

Scenario: How they enjoy a morning with you~

Rating: SFW, pure utter fluff

Word Count: ~1.8k

Note: GN reader, fluff. MENA! Reader and MENA! Croc but basically ignorable honestly if you want. Reader and Croc smoke lmao.

A/n: You can rip Middle Eastern Crocodile from my cold dead hands I swear to GOD I do not care what anyone thinks THAT MAN IS MIDDLE EASTERN!! I AINT LISTENING TO ANYTHING ELSE!!! As a Middle Eastern woman, I just want to have this win. Just let me have it. Let me live in delusion. Let me pretend I am his housewife 😩

Breakfast was always an important part of the day for Crocodile. No matter the time, no matter the day, no matter the weather- he would always partake in breakfast with you. It didn’t matter if he would be late or miss a meeting, he would never skip out on his daily morning routine.

Today, unlike many other days before, he slept in. He had always dedicated this day of the week to you, and only you. If anyone had dared tried to interrupt this day with you, death would seem like a more sparing result than whatever hell he would unleash upon them.

Thankfully, no one was stupid enough to call him on his transponder, yet.

He scrunched his face as he recognized the sensation of the bright Alabastan sun beaming down on his face. He covered his eyes and noticed the window was open, the red curtains you had lovingly picked out fluttering with the gentle breeze. The palm trees outside were rustling as his thoughts drifted to the taste of the dates they often produced. He yawned and swung his legs over the bed, forcing himself up. He stood up and stretched, sighing dreamily as he smelled the scent of freshly baked bread.

He slid his feet into his soft house slippers while he threw on his satin robe, the one that had matched yours, as you insisted. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, fixing many of the loose strands that had become unkempt after sleeping. He walked down the winding stairs of the large house. His eyes nostalgically glanced around the hallway and décor. Once upon a time, the hallway was barren, with nary even a rug on the floor.

But now, after marrying you, the house gradually became something entirely new- warmer, lovelier, lived in, and cared for. No longer was it simply a place he would crash at for the night, but a home. A home he had shared with you. Despite the many years it had been since the faithful day he had said “I do” at your ceremony, the fact his home had changed so much still would catch Crocodile off guard. On the wall, was a framed picture of you two in your wedding garb.

His lips twitched into a smile at the memory, as if that day were just yesterday. He didn’t look different, perhaps fewer wrinkles and gray hairs on his head, but his eyes were trained on you. You looked so beautiful that day, and the smile on your face made his heart race. You looked thrilled to be marrying him.

Crocodile chuckled to himself as he walked past the picture, stepping into the dining room that connected to the kitchen. You were there, plating olives in the wood trays you had gotten on one of your shopping trips. You glanced at him, smiling that beautiful smile that had him falling in love with you all over again.

“Habibi, good morning,” you greeted in your mother tongue, wiping your hands with a rag as you strode over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His functional hand gripped your waist, swaying with you gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s good because I see you, my love,” he replied, his voice still raspy from just waking up. You chuckled and kissed his nose, patting his shoulder a few times.

“Take a seat, breakfast is almost done,” you stated, and Crocodile complied by pulling out the wood chair to sit in. He watched as you went back to drying and plating the various olives you had bought yesterday from the market.

Once the tray was filled, you placed it in front of him and popped a pickled turnip in his mouth. He nodded agreeably as he chewed on the vegetable.

“Oh, these are sour,” he mused. The crunch of the turnips also showed how impressive this batch was.

“Mhm. Saleh’s crops have been wonderful right now,” you mention happily. “He also said he’s happy to set aside more for us for dinner next week. Oh, and before I forget, I need to visit his daughter soon. She just had her first child a while ago. Saleh was telling me it was a girl!”

Crocodile snorted. “Busy chatting it up as always?”

He was fascinated with how you managed to dazzle a room and become a friend to everyone. It did have many advantages in business, as many suppliers and partners had become friendly with you, enough to the point they would give him discounts or do special favors for him. But even beyond just business or how much easier your presence allowed him to get his goals achieved, he was amazed by how sociable you were. It was the complete opposite of how he behaved, often slinking to the background and watching below. But you? No, no, no, you were in the center of the room, chatting it up with a diplomat and a farmer as if they were long time friends.

He could watch you talk for hours, hear the stories of people he would never remember while you discussed their children with them. The laughs, the smiles, the curious looks, and even the short gasps at whatever one of his associates’ partners said to you- all of it was enthralling.

“Of course,” you laugh, placing a small oil cruet beside the vegetables. “You need to talk more, habibi, you can’t keep hiding away.”

He waved his hand. “No, you got that covered for me just fine. I doubt I could ever remember Saleh’s family tree. Tell his daughter congrats for me, will you?”

“I will, dear,” you say, stirring the contents in the pot. He sniffs the air.

“Foul?” He asks and you nod.

“Mhm.”

“What have I done to deserve you?” He dramatically asks. He grabs the furled-up newspaper by the table and is about to open it when you lightly hit his wrist with your spoon.

“No, no reading at the table. We’re going to eat!” You lectured.

“Fine, fine. No need for the violence,” he jokes, the both of you knowing damn well that little smack hardly did anything to him.

“Don’t be rude at breakfast and I will not need to do so,” you tease.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a smile. You respond by placing a plate of freshly baked pita bread and hummus with sumac and parsley on top. “My love, are you trying to fatten me up? Your bread is addicting.”

He takes one and tears it, dipping a piece into the hummus. He lets out a pleasured groan as he eats it.

“I swear to God, your food gets better every time.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “Enjoy it, my love.”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. He’s careful not to hurt the remains of his left arm, since he refuses to wear his hook in mornings with you. You gaze into his eyes, full of love, and he strokes your hair. You get more beautiful every day, in a way that he cannot help but fall helplessly on his knees for you.

You kiss him on his lips before standing up. “I’ll put you some foul,” you say, picking up his bowl and putting a dollop of hummus on the bottom of it. You scoop up the foul before crushing the legumes further for him. You put a bowl for yourself and walk to him, placing his bowl in front of him while sitting beside him.

He begins to put the vegetables he likes on top of it, as well as some oil and lemon juice, before he digs in. It’s always pleasant to eat with you. It makes his day brighter when he knows he can just focus on you today. He’s lost in your voice, hearing you talk on and on about anything and everything- something he finds so amusing and relaxing. It’s so different from hearing discussions of business for hours on end.

He pours himself more bowls of your delicious food, not even realizing how much he’s eaten until he realizes nearly all the hummus and bread have been eaten.

“That was wonderful, darling,” he says, clearing his throat. “Do you have enough time for a smoke break?”

“I do, in fact, have time for one.”

“I’ll go make the hookahs for us,” Crocodile says, forcing himself up and grabbing the hookahs.

“I’ll go pour us the tea,” you grin, heading to the whistling kettle. He stuffs the top with the flavored tobacco- guava and citrus for him, (flavor) for you. He wraps the top with tinfoil and pokes many little holes into it with a toothpick. As you settle into your living room couch, he fills the bottom with water and heats the charcoal up. He gently places yours in front of you as you begin to turn on the snail to project your show.

An Alabastan soap opera is playing, and you watch with full attention towards it while Crocodile grabs his newspaper and sits on the couch across from you. He picks up the tea you just brewed for him, noticing its dark complexion.

“Good, it’s dark,” he comments. You roll your eyes playfully and click your tongue.

“Don’t drink it so dark like an old man, habibi. Not even my own grandfather drinks it as dark as you.”

“I find that hard to believe. Everybody knows a good chai is dark,” Crocodile retorts.

“Any darker and you might as well just eat the leaves itself.”

“Would you like any tea with your sugar?” He teases back.

“Fine. You go behave like a grandfather,” you chuckle, putting the hose of the hookah between your lips.

“You married me,” he reminds you. You exhale a puff of tobacco, your eyes glued to the projection. A male character comes on screen, talking to the female lead. You sigh and click your tongue again, this time from disappointment.

“This man, again? I can’t believe she even gives him the time of day. Eat shit!” You yell at the screen.

Crocodile raises a brow at you and laughs.

“What’s wrong with him? Why do you hate him so much?”

“Womanizing garbage,” you explain. “He went for her sister while he was trying to court her. And God forbid he take accountability when called out!”

Crocodile glances at the projection, watching as the man looks longingly at the female lead’s sister. “Could he be any more obvious?”

You two laugh as he goes back to reading his paper and smoking. You take a sip of your tea, not noticing how Crocodile’s eyes shift towards you. He lets out a quiet sigh in relaxation while you are engrossed in your show.

He thinks to himself once more how he adores those slow and loving mornings with you.

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #x reader

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