#i hope this extends to the fashion side and he gets to do some more modeling

[tyresdeg]

logansargeant i decided to join the givenchybeauty gentleman society because f1 is all about style and speed together 🤝

[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, dual pov, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics submitted for @levievent 's #levimonth24 / day 22: neighbors

part two. | masterlist

“I'm seeing someone.”

Tea goes flying — metaphorically and physically.

When he confessed a new (and very unexpected) development in his (borderline nonexistent) dating life, Levi hadn’t anticipated Hange Zoe turning directly towards Erwin Smith to unleash a devastating spit-take attack to the face.

It’s a direct hit.

Erwin heroically takes the brunt of the damage, so at least his furniture is spared.

(Levi didn’t need to spend the rest of the afternoon scrubbing down the already scrubbed-down living room.)

Hange’s shout is shrill, the realization hitting them like a full-throttle freight train.

“You’re what?”

“He said he’s seeing someone,” Erwin answers in monotone before Levi can even try. 

The tall blonde extends a hand to leisurely grab the napkin cradling the bottom of his tea saucer. In true Erwin fashion, he doesn’t even blink at Hange’s dramatics — or their consequences unto him.

He raises the napkin to blot the side of his face sprinkled with a mixture of freshly-brewed lavender tea and Hange’s saliva.

(Then again, Hange could abruptly bang pots and pans in the middle of the night and Erwin would merely call it a minor inconvenience to his sleep routine.)

“No, no, I heard what he said,” Hange recovers with a crack to their voice, “but I can’t tell if he’s messing with us.”

“I’m not,” Levi flatly states.

“Okay, but how do we know?”

“Hange—”

Except it’s Erwin intercepting once more. “Because he would never pretend to have a significant other when one of his closest friends happens to be you.”

Hange squints, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

“Why? ‘Cause I joked that I’d stalk him the next time he finally found a date? That was one time, Erwin.”

Erwin rolls his neck to the right, offering Hange a pair of thick, disbelieving eyebrows.

“Technically speaking, Zoe, you threatened to stalk either of us if you caught even a sniff that we could be in the midst of a romantic pursuit. Plus, we’re well aware of the disguise kit collecting dust in the trunk of Moblit’s car.”

An instant shit-eating grin passes across their lips.

“Ha. Fair.”

If Levi’s eyeballs could roll any further into the back of his skull, they’d get stuck.

“However,” Erwin adds, those bold blue eyes flickering back towards Levi, “it doesn’t explain why we were in the dark until now. At the very least, we should hope you would feel safe enough to confide in us about someone you are serious about dating.”

Yeah. 

Out of his two friends sitting across from him, Levi figured Erwin would be the most suspicious of the surprise announcement.

Now that it’s been a few days since That Fateful Night, he doesn’t feel as self-conscious to confess his new reality.

It was as good of a time as any to rip the proverbial band-aid off.

(Besides, it was only a matter of mistakes before his friends learned the truth for themselves.)

Hange, Erwin, Moblit — they’re his only remaining connections tying him to this city. The others from his gym days have all found offers in other towns, returned to their old homes—

Moved on.

Meeting Erwin Smith in boot camp changed the trajectory of his life, for better or worse. 

Levi had known the man longer than he knew anyone else — but only by a few days and some change, considering he was destined (Hange’s words, not his) to meet the hyper scientist and their subdued partner, Moblit, in the army as well.

Then, as if attached to the hip, all four of them agreed to work at Erwin’s gym.

When that fell through, Erwin found the Scout Services Hotline.

.

.

— —

.

.

    The announcement came to him one summer evening with a printed job description and a six pack of beer.

Levi assumed Erwin’s confession on taking a sex hotline job had been one weird, shitty joke.

Picturing stoic, pragmatic Erwin Smith telling people how to fuck themselves in their bedrooms late at night for the almighty dollar felt obscene. 

Hell, it was obscene.

Levi didn’t want to consider his oldest friend in such a compromising position, but there it was laid before him without shame or fear of judgment.

Becoming a part-time sex worker for Erwin was as noncommittal as taking up a fleeting niche interest — like exotic bird watching or crocheting sweaters for fucking cats.

“At the gym, we improved upon people’s lives,” Erwin had told him while sipping his beer, staring out to the city sightline from Levi’s balcony. “Who has the authority to say this job isn’t doing something similar to those who may be lonely?”

“You would make yapping on a damn sex hotline prophetic,” Levi scoffed in return. “Selling some shitty porn script a dozen times a night sounds like the closest you could get to Hell.”

“I disagree,” Erwin argued without heat. “When I interviewed, they stated every employee is given the ability to do as they please. To show their strengths and make it their own.”

“Bullshit.”

“It isn’t.” 

Erwin rested the beer bottle on the knee of his trousers. 

“Flexible work hours give me the ability to find another place the gym can call home. The pay would certainly cover any initial costs after several years.”

“Several years?”

Levi frowned, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Erwin… c’mon. Just take a second to listen to yourself.”

“I’m only offering a chance for you to do the same. You may not be fond of people, Levi, but you’re loyal to a stubborn fault.”

Erwin gave him a sidelong glance.

“I know you won’t put in applications to go to any other gym.”

“Tch.”

A dismissive sound was all he could muster at the time.

He always hated how Erwin could open the cavity of his chest and put his damn bleeding heart on display.

“Who says I haven’t been window shopping to pass the damn unemployment time?”

“I wish you would,” Erwin replied with a heavy sigh. “Your skills are better when in use, not lying waste with the rest of us.”

“Hange and Moblit’re doing just fine.”

Hange, a self-proclaimed babbler, returned to Paradis University to make headway on some fascinating research projects side by side with Moblit. 

It was where they belonged, really.

“Fine, then lying waste with me.”

After a beat, Erwin slid his hand across the space between their chairs and held out a slip of paper.

"Look it over. Really sit down and think about what you did for our fighters and see where I’m coming from. You have a knack for leading. Of making people believe in themselves at their lowest."

He made it a point to stop. Stare.

Levi bit his tongue, meeting his friend's stern gaze.

"Conventional or not, you would still be helping people. Even if it’s a job for a month, at least you’ll be putting a hell of a lot of money in your pocket. It's better than waiting for my signal to move on.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    The bastard was always great at a rousing speech.

That night was the night Levi plugged in the damn website and read the job description.

By morning, he had submitted his application for a part-time hotline employee that included an .mp3 file auditioning his voice.

Erwin must have told his boss that he had a life-long friend possibly interested in the position, because by that night?

Levi Ackerman had a job.

A night turned into a month.

A month turned into six. 

Six to a year.

Suddenly denying begging, pleading people from their chased orgasms became as second nature as completing an Excel sheet.

Yet nothing else changed.

Levi still kept to himself.

Considering the friend group worked odd hours — Erwin with his own clientele, Moblit working towards his Masters, and Hange testing the scientific project of the week at the same university when unsupervised — it was easy to.

Wake up. Work out. Eat. Run errands. Clock in for work. Clock out. Eat. Sleep. 

Repeat.

Routine.

Hell, a lot of his life worked like a well-oiled machine until you showed up.

Now his world is slightly spinning off-axis, and he knows:

Without talking to his friends about his (uncharacteristically selfish and) impulsive decision, everything could very well go up in flames.

(Because when it comes to sticking matters of the heart and Levi Ackerman in one room, the former never walks out.)

After a pregnant pause in this three-way stand-off, Hange leans in, pressing both hands onto the tops of their thighs. 

“So when you say you’re seeing someone, you mean like… romantically?”

“As opposed to what?” Levi flatly asks.

“Well, seeing someone could mean anything, especially for you,” Hange reasons. Levi’s eyes narrow when Erwin gives that short huff of air through his nose like he’s stifling a laugh. “You could be seeing someone about finally fixing your dryer.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m just saying, romantically isn’t the first idea that comes to mind!”

“I have to agree with Zoe,” Erwin finally states, shifting his blue eyes to Levi’s. “You never mentioned that you had met someone in our group chat, and you haven’t made any changes in your schedule that suggest otherwise.”

Levi can’t help but scoff.

“Oh, so now you’re following Hange’s goddamn Google calendar?”

That fucking calendar.

The ‘we’re so busy but we can’t lose touch just because the gym went under’ calendar hastily made at two in the morning and sent with a declaration of war if no one accepted the invite.

All four of them did.

(Then again, Moblit didn’t have much of a choice.)

“I check on occasion,” is Erwin’s short rebuttal, before sitting up straighter. “But the former argument stands: you didn’t tell us that you were dabbling in the dating scene.”

“Wouldn’t really call it dabbling, Erwin,” Levi huffs, picking up his tea cup by clawing the rim of the ceramic. “Shit just kind of happened.”

“Uh-uh,” Hange interrupts. “We’re not playing coy right now, Levi. I want details: name, height—”

“Occupation,” Erwin agrees.

“Where they’re from.”

“If they have siblings.”

“Do they live near here?”

“If they’re allergic to cats.”

An involuntary grimace passes over Levi’s face.

“Ooh! We also need to know if they like tennis,” Hange adds excitedly. “Don’t trust someone who likes tennis, spectator or player. They’re always too put together with an underlying layer of batshit crazy.”

Erwin halts mid-sip of his tea. 

“...I like tennis.”

Hange’s thumb and middle finger sharply snap. “Exactly.”

Enough.

Levi hastily pushes his black fringe out of his eyes with his free hand. “I— No, Jesus, can we stop speculating about her?”

“Why?” Erwin challenges.

“Because I told you what you needed to know,” Levi challenges without tripping over his words. “And I’d prefer to keep the rest of myself.”

“Ah, her.”

When he turns his attention to Hange, there’s a wicked glimmer in their eye.

Well, fuck him.

Too much has already been said.

Hange whistles low. 

“So how recently was this fair maiden introduced into thy friend’s life?”

“Don’t start talking like a freak, Four Eyes,” he warns them while they suppress a cackle between pressed lips. “And — fuck, fine. If no one is going to let it go—”

“We aren’t.”'

Erwin interrupts, making it two against one.

With a set glare at his blonde friend, the smaller man sinks further into his chair and sighs with reluctant resolve. 

“I… met her a few days ago. It...”

Trailing off, he sets his tea cup down to rub at his temples with one hand.

This is going to bring on a headache. 

He really doesn’t need it on a work night.

“You’re both going to have an opinion on the how, and trust me, so do I.”

Hange’s face screws up in confusion, but he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

Erwin grows still. Contemplative.

Yeah, he knew this was going to go terribly.

“Huh?” Hange whips their ponytail back and forth to look between both men, smacking themself on the sides of their face. “Why wouldn’t we approve of how? Is it one of the old fighters?”

Levi scoffs, dropping to sit back in his chair. “I’d rather choke.”

“Then I’m not following. You don’t even talk to cashiers at the grocery store.”

“When did she call the hotline?” Erwin asks, cutting straight through the bush instead of beating around it.

His stare is almost indiscernible. Stern.

(Protective.)

The lightbulb clicks. Hange finally settles their attention on him. 

“Whoa — wait, she’s a…”

“Former client,” Levi confesses after Hange trails off. “Emphasis on the former part.”

The room grows silent.

Levi doesn’t have the capacity to see Hange’s true reaction, because he’s keeping eye contact with Erwin.

Their own telepathic argument bounces back and forth like that very proverbial tennis ball Hange had so teasingly laid down.

The ethics of it all;

The logistics of what it could mean for the future;

The gravity of this choice and knowing its weight is crushing him.

Erwin’s gaze softens a fraction.

Levi’s shoulders relax, if only a little.

“And how did that opportunity come to pass?” the taller blonde finally asks, but it isn’t as harsh as Levi anticipated. 

Hell, it’s curious.

Willing — to not judge; to hear him out.

“Accidentally stumbled into her at the bar down the street,” Levi confesses.

Stumbled is an understatement.

.

.

— —

.

.

    “So then — what does this mean?”

He doesn’t know.

God, he has no fucking clue.

Just like he had no fucking clue you’d be at this bar tonight; that you not only lived in the area, but in the same goddamn building just a few floors south.

You were meant to be a fluke thing.

A moment of weakness.

An anomaly he could solve like every other problem in his life, one he could reason to death and move on from once you realized that this hotline is a slippery slope to financial debt.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t meant to be real.

The calls, the laughter, the exchange of stories felt real, but that’s the selling point.

Imagining idealism.

He could send as many discounted invoices as he could to management to ease the cost of your calls, but there was only so much he could do from his position.

Still—

That being said, he wanted this.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something.

Ever since Erwin’s gym went under and the staff were forced to find something else in the interim, Levi Ackerman turned off his emotions. His passion.

Money was tight. 

Bills were bills. 

But there are worse things to do than apply to a remote-working sex hotline with the promise of flexible hours, medical insurance, and the opportunity to get away from people for a while.

Maybe he hadn’t realized he was simply going through the motions of buying a morning tea at the coffee shop down the street. 

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that his drive to push himself to the brink of exhaustion at the gym all but disappeared.

Maybe he existed to simply exist.

Then you called.

Petra had pinged him to let him know that there was someone looking for a deep voice — not surprising — with a tendency to overtalk and overthink.

Easy.

Those types always cave the second you call them a pet name or sprinkle a little praise.

Yet you burst into his life like a damn firework to the face and he’s never recovered since.

Being nervous is a staple on these calls. He’s heard every justification in the book just as he’s witnessed people use the hotline like they’re robots.

You wanted to talk.

Petra doesn’t send people to him if they want to talk.

(Did she know, somehow, that he needed this?)

Conspiracies aside, the last two weeks became some of the best of his life.

Now you knew his face, and he knew yours.

And Christ, you were beautiful. 

Your voice was one thing — like a soothing balm to his insomnia — but your face nearly took him right the hell out.

Even in the mirror backsplash of the bar, he couldn’t stop staring. Didn’t want to, not when he finally saw what he wanted right in the palm of his hand.

So he was honest.

Honest about his life, his job, his black hole of an existence — maybe to scare you away so you’d choose better than a guy like him.

That he was the first to break the rules.

That he was sorry, because you weren’t looking for more baggage after a shit breakup with a shithead of a guy.

You didn’t care.

So he decided to rip a page out of his goddamn advice book:

Be selfish.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

Autopilot.

Everything is on autopilot when he picks up that damn pen and starts to scribble on a napkin, allowing his nervous system to suckerpunch his logic right out the damn window.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow—”

Bail.

Bail, bail, bail, before you make a damn fool of yourself, Levi Ackerman.

He doesn’t.

He straightens his spine, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand. 

The heat of it almost makes his stomach clench.

If he were bolder, then maybe he’d steal you away from your friends. Keep asking questions to make you talk more. Watch as your eyes light up about your favorite things—

He can’t. Won’t.

You’re with your friends. He’s already taken enough time away from them for you.

“—give me a call.”

Maybe he’s chickenshit for running, but at least there’s a part of him brave enough to leave him his personal cell number in the palm of your hand.

Before you can say anything, he drops some money on the counter to pay for both drinks and a tip and leaves to walk home.

To contemplate.

(Assuming you likely won’t call. He wouldn’t blame you.)

The night air leaves a sobering sting on his cheeks as he steps outside.

It’s considerably quieter than the cramped space of the bar, but cabs bustle in the street.

His pocket vibrates not once but twice.

(So not a text.)

Fishing his phone out, Levi squints at the ‘Unknown Caller’ ID staring up at him.

He swipes right to accept said call, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

His heart falls out of his ass.

Whipping back around to the tinted windows of the bar, Levi can’t help but look for that now-familiar face.

You’re blocked by an endless sea of conversations and bodies, but he still searches.

“My schedule just opened up,” you tell him from the other side of the line, your voice airy like you hold a secret. “I know it’s a little late for some coffee, but — are you free for some tea now?”

Shit.

Maybe he should be giving the headset for the hotline over to you.

“Depends,” Levi exhales. “Any shop worth a damn is closed at this hour.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

He liked it when you cursed. 

Hell, he liked it when you weren’t afraid to be yourself around him the most.

“There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours,” Levi reasons with a shrug he assumes you can’t see; autopilot, “if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    “You said that?”

Hange, now at the brink of teetering off of their chair, gawks.

Levi blinks twice, realizing he’s given more of the story than he wanted to.

That they know it’s serious — dead fucking serious for him, actually — and that you’re his neighbor.

Yeah, he didn’t believe it either until you said yes.

“What?” Levi asks. “Something wrong?”

“No, that was just fucking smooth, dude,” Hange whistles low, impressed. “Pop-a-button-and-open-a-window kinda smooth. Holy shit.” They thumb towards Erwin. “You teach him to talk like that!?”

“Self-taught, I’m afraid,” Erwin hums. “Can’t take the credit.”

Hange flops back into their chair unceremoniously. “Jeeeez.”

“Six floors down, then?”

There’s a rare tint of pride in Erwin’s tone, like there’s a joke somewhere in that question he isn’t saying. 

Levi immediately narrows his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s been my fuckin’ neighbor all this time, if you can believe that.”

He sure as hell can’t. The fact that you’re six floors away — have been — has kept him up at night.

He could run down there right now and show you off to his friends.

He could leave you home-cooked meals if you’re running behind at your office job.

He could do a lot of things, but—

“Is she requesting you to end your time at Scout Services?” Erwin asks, interrupting his trailing thoughts.

Levi’s stormy eyes meet a contemplative, oceanic stare.

“...no.”

A beat passes.

Despite his trepidation, he explains himself.

“She’s not asking me to quit it. Says she gets it, a job’s a job, but I don’t know how true that’ll be in the long run.”

“And you believe her?”

He knows Erwin’s skepticism isn’t unfounded, but it sets a fire in his belly.

Questioning you, the newfound gravity keeping him grounded on planet earth.

(You're just a stranger to him, too, at the end of the day, but you don't feel like one. Not really.)

“I can’t expect anyone to stay neutral about what the fuck it is we do, Erwin," he reasons diplomatically. "I can say everything on my mind and put it on paper, but I’m sure the doubt will still creep in. Everything’s too new to tell. It won’t be easy, but it…”

He sighs, running his hand once more through his straight-and-narrow black hair. 

“I just need you two dumbasses to keep me in check. I can’t—”

Hange frowns, and he hates the sympathetic tone they take when they say his name. 

“Levi—”

“Four Eyes,” Levi interrupts stronger yet weaker in resolve, effectively shutting down their protest, “I can’t fuck this up. So don’t let me.”

The air grows thick, like winding vines corrupting the foundation of a tree.

Levi glances between the two of them, nostrils flaring with unspoken difficulty.

Erwin is the first to nod. Wordlessly, but he does.

Hange sighs with conclusion not a second after and nods, too.

“Am I at least allowed to ask one thing?” they chirp, holding out one slender finger to the sky. “Just one teeny, tiny thing — yes or no.”

A part of him really wants to say no.

A part of him really wants to say this conversation is over before he gives them anymore concrete information about you as he navigates these uncharted waters of being a not-so-normal boyfriend to a very-normal-ass person.

He fights.

Fails.

“...fine,” he grumbles. “The fuck’s the question?”

Hange perks up, all too smug.

“Did the pop-up shop six floors up line work?”

The memory blossoms in the back of his skull.

His body warms as if trapped under an electric blanket, heat setting cranked a little too high. 

Instinctively his eyes flicker to the front door of his apartment.

Like you’ll burst in at any moment with your work bags and stress and the hope that he’ll have the same soothing balm you’ve gifted him, hands at the ready to fix your problems for you.

He hasn’t wanted much.

He’s never wanted much, but—

Shit, if he doesn’t want to be good to you.

“...something like that.”

.

Author's Note:

AHHHH HI EVERYONE! WE'RE AT IT AGAIN WITH MODERN!LEVI SHENANIGANS! How are we feeling to be back?

I seriously cannot believe we're here. I've never done a sequel before, but the demand was overwhelming and I couldn't help but agree: we could do with learning what happens after the final call.

And we will, in this seven (maybe more?) part series. I had to actually break up part one because it got way too large of a chapter, so I promise we'll be picking up right where we left off in P4 -- like, quite literally That Fateful Night in part two.

[edenavari]

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

[mickyschumacher]

style was so fucking good HOLY SHITTTTT can u please please please do a part 2 xx

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after separating from carlos, you thought you would never ever have to see him again. but fate is demanding and it demands you bumping into him in a club. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy (bc where would we be without it), reader is younger than carlos but not like insanely, reader has vagina, angst, ferrari SLANDER, charles moves to redbull oop, GOOGLED SPANISH! I'M SORRY 😭, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies peeps!), oral sex, cumming inside, car sex = dangerous car driving, brief handjob, dry(?) humping, confession time AHHH, incorrect modelling stuff again lol, nicer!carlos ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: complicated ex!carlos sainz x model!fem!reader, bestie!lily he x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+ (whoops)

𝐀/𝐍: a lot of people wanted a part 2 so.... here it is! i hope this is up to your par with what you were thinking about ♡︎ has bit of a build up but the smut is there! decently proof read... i think? my eyes are vv tired from these exams :(

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Three years.

A lot can happen in three years.

For you that meant with some crazy luck becoming the World's top supermodel. Kendall Jenner, Gigi and Bella Hadid, Emily Ratajkowski... whoever the top once was, you had put them all to shame. You were booked and busier than ever. You could've sworn you used to get your beauty sleep but now you were lucky if you could even get an hour let alone eight. The billboards and the magazines loved you and the public, god the public, they cherished you.

Never had the world needed a relatable, kind role model more and there you were. A diamond in the rough, waiting to be seen. You were even on your way of becoming an entrepreneur in sustainable fashion.

Everything was going your way.

It was a surprise for you. After Carlos, you thought you would be moping forever. And you did, at least for a few days. But when your manager and stylist advised you to release your pent up emotions, you thought the best way to do that was fully committing yourself to your work.

No more relationships. No hookups. No races. No Carlos.

And somehow, it worked. You were a single supermodel who won over the public. No races, no Carlos. You were bringing your company money.

But yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop thinking about Carlos. His smugness, the puppy brown eyes, his touch, the little signs that he cared; the softening of the side of his eyes when he looked at you before they were ridden with lust or his need to have some part of him touching you; his hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, or soft circles rubbed on your inner wrist.

You missed him.

But that was three years ago.

You and Carlos didn't even run in the same circles anymore.

For Carlos, three years meant extending his contract with Ferrari, although God knows why, losing three chances at a championship, fighting with Adami over the radio far more than he liked, and losing Charles to Red Bull. All while feeling very empty. No one really recognised who Carlos was anymore. Not his family, not the drivers, and not the fans. Hell, he himself didn't know who he was.

Whoever Carlos was right now... it was the mere shell of who he used to be.

He was drinking far too much for an F1 driver celebrating other's podiums. And now he got angry. He didn't get angry, he seethed. He let himself feel vexed in order to get motivated. But now he was just angry and torn but not for no reason.

Carlos was an idiot. He had made an irrevocably stupid decision. Separating from you was the worse decision he had ever made. And that said something considering he had extended with the most infuriating F1 team of the past few years.

How could he have even made that decision? Normally, he thought things out. He was an F1 driver, for God's sake. Some sort of thought could be accounted for. But he didn't know what it was... maybe he was too emotional the night he was with you. Whatever it was, he should've thought it out.

God, Carlos should've realised that all he needed to do was put more effort it. You and him... it would've worked. He would've stopped hurting you. He would've been fully committed to you.

But no. He had fuck to it up.

To say Carlos hadn't been stalking your socials everyday was an understatement. Cumming to your name was a pre-race ritual that had now turned into checking what projects you were doing. Not to be dramatic, but to him, it felt like you were just keeping him alive, giving him a reason to live.

Carlos couldn't even muster the courage to call you and ask if you could talk. He didn't deserve that. Like he said, you deserved more. And all these fans and the fame and money... you deserved all of it and more. Staying away from you was the best thing he could do for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos had made a terrible, terrible decision to attend the Miami after race party after saying he wouldn't. In fact, he couldn't. Not when he knew for a fact that you were in a club only down the street.

The temptation to see you was strong.

The club lights flared across the dance floor while the heat and humidity of all these dancing bodies clung to his warm skin. Carlos' hands shook silently at his side while Charles and Lando mixed in conversation. Every fibre of his body was telling his feet to stick to this floor. He couldn't see you. He was only going to ruin your night. He bit down on his lip, feeling a familiar ache in his chest.

But his heart... it was a strong heart. And it was telling him to take that five minute walk.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air," Carlos yelled over the music blaring in his ears. Charles and Lando gave the Spaniard a nod before returning to their conversation.

Carlos tried to make his walk to the club as long as possible, veering off to the side, staring far too long into the windows of other stores. But eventually, he stood in front of the thriving club.

You were celebrating having reached 50 Vogue covers, including the Big Four twice. You told your manager you were fine with having dinner at home but the refusal was immediate and came with the claim of you needing a break. So here you were, dressed in the most sparkly, skimpy, backless deep cleavage silver slip dress, dancing your ass off.

When Carlos entered the club, it was hard to miss you. How could he? You were the centre of attention, dancing around in your little dress that was fighting to cling to your body while everyone cheered you on.

He shouldn't of come. He knew it. Because now, he couldn't leave. No matter how much he knew that to leave was the right decision.

You, on the other hand, didn't notice Carlos so easily. You were having the time of your life, swaying your hips side-to-side as the beat coursed through your veins. Your skin was dotted with sweat while a handsome stranger had come up to you, clearly looking to hook up. And while you weren't looking to screw just anyone, you couldn't shy away from the little bit of grinding your body so desperately craved.

The euphoria wasn't as high as you had once felt but it was enough to keep you on your toes. Heat travelled through your stomach while your eyes closed and your head fell back as another man moved behind you. You were in a haze of pleasure that made your pussy ache.

God, maybe you were too desperate for some pleasure. Because why did it feel like Carlos' cologne had engulfed you? Why did the fire burning within you flare up even further all of a sudden?

Your eyes shot open and a gasp fell from your lips when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"Cariño," Carlos breathed out, hooded eyes peering down at you.

Your throat felt constricted. Your eyes watered with anger and shock.

"No," You said, pulling yourself away from him.

"No, no, no," You repeated while Carlos took a step towards you, hand reaching out to stop freaking you out.

"Y/N... I–" Carlos was cut short as you raced towards your table and picked up your purse and jacket, heading towards the exit doors of the club.

You could hear Carlos jog to catch up with you. Sighing, you put on your jacket, striding as far as you could in those stupidly beautiful heels you had worn. But you seemed to forget that he was an athlete at the end of the day.

"Y/N, please. Don't do this," Carlos begged, an inch away from you.

Your lips sunk into your bottom lip, ears attempting to block out the warm voice you had been craving for the past three years. Your heart was racing against your chest while your mind fell into disarray.

"Y/N," Carlos repeated, grabbing your arm gently.

You sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, feeling the hairs of your body stand straight. You turned and looked up at him with with reddened eyes, making him pause for a second.

"Three years, Carlos, three goddamn years... of nothing," You exasperated with the familiar words falling off your tongue all too easily.

"I know. I'm–"

"'... so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses.' Is that what you were going to say, Carlos?" You asked incredulously, arms folded as if they were going to protect you from all this sudden pain.

Carlos winced at your words, staring at you helplessly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I was doing fine... and you... what the hell were you thinking, Carlos?"

A silence settled between the both of you as the cold night air raced to cool down your flushed cheeks. Carlos breathed deeply. "I-I... I missed you, cariño. That's what I was thinking. That what I have been thinking for the past three years. I miss you all the time."

You stared at Carlos silently, chewing down on your lip nervously. This was what you wanted. You had waited all this time to hear those very words fall from his lips. Yet all you could say was: "So? That doesn't change anything." The lie made you crumble on the inside but you continued to speak. "You said it yourself, Carlos, we aren't good for each other. That I... deserve more."

"And you do!" Carlos spluttered, hands flailing about. "You deserve more than a better man, Y/N. You deserve the fucking universe. But I was wrong! I was wrong to say that we aren't good together. We can be good together. I think you complete me and if you let me even have the chance, I would be the luckiest man ever to be with you."

Carlos' hands were now gently holding your face, thumb gently brushing your heated skin. Your heart was now pounding in your eardrums. Your throat was caught. You felt impossibly warm. Your eyes burned, but no tears came out. "I... I gave you so many chances," You whispered.

Carlos' eyes softened at your broken voice as a sorry expression fell over his face. "I know," He sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself, cariño. But if I have to spend forever trying to make it up to you, I gladly will."

"Carlos," You sighed, closing your eyes. You were annoyed with yourself. Annoyed at the fact you were leaning into his touch and annoyed at the familiar heartache that always let him get away with what he wanted. "I'm terrified. I don't want to hurt again. I don't want to hurt you either."

Carlos felt his heart clench, jaw taut with irritation. Every fibre of him hated that you even had to say that. But you were right. You always were. He whispered softly, letting his forehead meet yours, "You won't. I promise. I promise to be a better man. Just please give me a chance... give us a chance."

You opened your eyes to see those desperate puppy eyes boring into yours. You brought your hand to the one holding on your face, rubbing it gently. You knew your answer the moment he asked. "Okay," You responded with a small smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Initially, it was hard to get as comfortable as you once were with Carlos. You took every step with caution and he could tell by the scrunch of your nose and the chewing of you lip when you pondered for a moment too long. It was eating at him but there was nothing he could do but fufill his promise to you.

Carlos took you out on several dates as opposed to the few he previously taken you on. They weren't grand. No. Instead they were intimate. Dates that showed he was putting effort in. Like the time he decided to have a dinner date at his house where all the food was prepared by him. It was disastrous to say the least but you were also convinced he had gotten his sisters to help him out given that there was burnt food in the trash and it's aroma covered by candles and perfume in the air.

A sunset picnic followed after that. It was one of your favourites. The sun was setting, of course, and the warm breeze brushed past you while you ended up reading one of your favourite childhood books to Carlos. He listened intently as his hands roamed your skin. It wasn't necessarily sensual but it was intimate. Like all he wanted to do was just bathe in your presence. And bathe Carlos did as he began to ask you questions about your childhood and your family.

It bugged him that despite being with you for some time, he knew nothing about you. At least not really. Knowing your body reactions felt superficial in comparison to finding out you had a family pet that you cherished so much, your financial hardships, or that your parents disapproved of your modelling. That really hurt him. You didn't have anyone close to you. And he had just left you.

Carlos mentioned to you how much of a polla he truly was, apologising for all you had gone through. And while you laughed at his comment, you thanked him, hesitantly pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

Carlos gazed at you as his heart throbbed at your action. He stared at you with a twinkle in his eyes. There was something about this moment... he wasn't quite sure whether it was the setting sun that made you glow or that breeze that made your hair gently fly while your perfume consumed him, but it made him nervous and happy.

Carlos smiled at your raised brows. "You're just so beautiful, cariño."

You sucked in a sharp breath. That look in his eyes... it was the same one you gave him when you were just mesmerised by his beauty. And now he looked at you the same way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Three months had passed and you had finally stepped into the paddock after what had felt like forever. Everyone was psyched that you were back here. Fans were screaming your name and the drivers had finally seen the reason behind the sudden change in Carlos.

"So... you and Y/N?" Lando queried carefully, watching you talk to Lily and Alex about all the things the both of you had missed.

Carlos peered over to you, catching your passing eyes. His heart skipped a beat at your little wave and smiling eyes. He grinned at you and waved back.

Lando watched the exchange with curious eyes, pulling a feigned pained expression. "Yeah... you and Y/N."

Carlos rolled his eyes at the man who had become one of his closest friends. "Yes, Lando, we're together. We've... we've been taking it slow. So I don't fuck it up."

Lando smiled at Carlos' words. He slapped his hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "Good," He chirped, before dropping his smile. "You better not. That's basically my best friend right there. You hurt her, you better keep an eye out for Lily and I, and Alex by association."

Carlos chuckled. "Imagine if Fewtrell heard that."

"What Max doesn't know won't hurt him," Lando shrugged.

Carlos smiled in amusement, finding you walking towards him with the previously mentioned couple. "What are you two trying to get my lovely lady to do?" He asked with narrowed eyes when you appeared with a suspiciously wide smile. A beautiful smile, but suspicious nonetheless.

You flushed at his words, taking in a deep breath. "I may have been convinced to do a bit of... ugh, golf."

Golf. Your most dreaded sport. From the moment you knew what it was, you could not think of a more boring sport to save your life. No offence to Lily, but it was an old man's sport. And every F1 driver playing it did not help. But Lily being the amazing girl she was had changed your mind.

Lando cheered and Carlos' eyes widened slightly. "How did you manage to convince her? Even I couldn't get her to join me. Me out of all people."

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. "I think your win from me golfing is a little different from Lily's. Lily wants me to learn."

"Yeah? And what do I want that is so different?" Carlos asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to me.

You stood on your toes a bit, reaching his ear. "Quieres verme con esa diminuta ropa de golf," You whispered in Spanish, pulling away from his ear. "Esa es la diferencia." You want to see me in those teeny little golf clothes. That's the difference.

You felt a familiar tingle creep up your spine as you met Carlos' darkened eyes and tightened grip on your waist. His tongue darted out, swiping his bottom lip while he eyed you carefully. You were a vixen. A final smug smile rested on his face. "You're right, cariño. That's exactly what I want."

Lily looked at you two blankly. "Anyone catch that?" She asked Alex and Lando, who both shook their heads. She sighed, "Leave it to us to not know one of the most popular languages in the world. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. Try keep your hands off each other, there's kids."

Lando gaped at Lily's side glance towards him. "Well I never!"

Carlos grinned at Lando's words, keeping an eye on you. "I'll try."

You drew a sharp breath. What kind of mess had you exactly set up for yourself?

━━━━━━━━━━━

To be honest, Carlos wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting when you had told him that your manager had sorted out a golf outfit since it was not like you were playing an official tournament. But when you arrived to meet Carlos, Lando, Lily, and Alex at the golf course, Carlos let out the most strained sigh he had ever released.

You were a model, sorry, a supermodel, you looked good in everything already. But you dressed up for his favourite pass time was killing him.

You stood in front of him in the sun visor that hid your long hair, wearing the absolute tightest sleeveless polo shirt known to mankind tucked into small little pink skirt that rested at the middle of your thighs.

God, you were leaving very little for Carlos to imagine. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do to you first: 'accidentally' splash that white shirt with water because he just knew by those nipples that you weren't wearing a bra or excuse the both of you to the bathroom where he could bend you over and fuck you senselessly.

Lily let out a low whistle when she saw you. "Y/N, the woman you are..." She clicked her tongue while shaking her head.

You laughed lightly as Alex look at her incredulously. "I'm right here, you know."

"Alex, are you a woman named Y/N?" Lily asked genuinely.

"I– no," Alex stuttered with furrowed brows while Lando grinned.

"That’s what I thought!" Lilly gave a smug smile, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek before linking her arm with yours.

Alex stood with Carlos, blinking blankly at your retreating figures. “I don’t get it,” Alex told the Spaniard.

Lando chuckled while Carlos placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You don’t need to. It’s Y/N. Now come on. From what I know, you have a lot to learn from Lily.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos was already bracing himself for whatever antics you were going to put up. He was expecting your full on ass up against him, teasing him to the point where he did end up taking you in the bathroom.

But you had decided to go the hard way.

When Carlos was teaching you how to hit the ball and what angle to use the golf club, he severely used the opportunity to put his hands on your hips. He thought you were going to fall back into his chest and press up on him. But instead you decided to listen to his instructions all so intently.

Then he saw it.

Your tongue darting out past those perfect lips of yours, wetting all those crevices with a natural sheen before you sunk your teeth to concentrate on hitting the ball.

And after he had seen it, Carlos couldn’t see anything else normally. Or he would argue that you wouldn’t let him.

No way was the slip of the golf ball accidental. Not when he watched you slowly bend down to get it, revealing your delicious cleavage in the so very unfortunate cut of your polo. Not when he watched your pink skirt cling to your thighs tightly as your lips jutted out to blow away the dirt from the ball.

It was a golf ball, for God’s sake. Of course it was going to have dirt on it.

And as you stood up, you turned so your ass faced him, skirt hugging your ass tight enough so he could see a sliver of your bare pussy.

Carlos could swear that he had never clutched a golf club as hard as he had in his life.

To make matters worse, all you did was strut away with a smirk while you shamelessly checked him out all throughout the games, leaving him with a semi-hard he tried his best to hide behind the thin handle of the club.

You were torturing him without even touching him. And he hated it.

Carlos couldn’t even excuse himself nor you to the bathroom after you purposefully decide to cling to Lily, who was suggesting different methods to play.

The dreadful day had finally come to an end as everyone began to feel the kick of playing golf for so long. You and Carlos bid goodbye to Lily, Alex, and Lando, after your boyfriend definitely did not inform you that you were going back home with him instead of your manager.

After packing your things away in Carlos’ red Ferrari, you happily took a seat in the front, letting out a small yawn as you stretched your arms.

Carlos quietly eyed you as he reversed out of the parking lot. “Tired?” He asked.

You nodded with slightly heavy eyelids. “It takes a lot of energy.”

“I agree,” Carlos nodded. “Teasing takes a lot of energy, hmm?”

Your eyes were fully awake now. You peered at the side of Carlos’ face. His jaw was taut and hands tightly gripped the wheel. You tried to hide your teetering smile but it was difficult. You just loved riling up Carlos. Especially sexually.

“A lot,” You agreed, also nodding before you moved your eyes out your window to prevent you from fully grinning.

Carlos internally sighed. You were a menace.

As he drove to his hotel, an idea popped into Carlos’ head. He knew the way to hotel and golf course like the back of his hand. He also knew that in two left turns, there was the most sketchy but quiet road in town.

Carlos pushed down the indicator, watching the left arrow blink rapidly at him while he turned the wheel. He could see your head turn to him in curiosity.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

Carlos smiled softly, shaking his head as if it was nothing while taking the last left turn.

You raised a brow. You feigned a gasp. “Is this where you kill me? Is this how I die? On some road in Miami?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Yes. How did you know?” He deadpanned.

Carlos parked the car in between some trees, ensuring that all the windows were fairly covered because no matter what, at the end of the day, he cared for both for your images.

Carlos turned to find your eyes already on him, waiting for an explanation. “You know the last time we met in Miami?”

You blinked blankly at him. “How could I forget?” You retorted sarcastically, covering up any last few traces of pain associated with that trip.

Carlos pursed his lips, smiling apologetically. He took your hands into his, rubbing them gently. “Well, when we were in the car, I had this vision—well I always have this vision but it was strong then, anyways—I had this vision of fucking you in this car, on the highway, ass on the wheel, making a mess on me, and making you cum so hard that you cover that Ferrari logo.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes dilated in pleasure. Suddenly you felt tingly all over your body and a strong heat pulsating in between your thighs. You pressed your thighs together at the thought.

“So I thought,” Carlos confused, smirking at your action, “although you’ve been a tease, I would still like to fuck the life out of you, cariño. Isn’t that so nice of me?” He asked as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You wish you had the urge to roll your eyes. You really wish you did. But your breath was caught in your throat and you just felt a dribble of arousal leak past your aching core.

Instead you moved over to Carlos, putting a leg on either side of him and brought your lips to his.

Carlos immediately responded, hands flying towards your hips, gripping on your skin while he intensely kissed you back. He kissed you not just as a starved man, but a parched man. As if your lips were water and all he could do was drink you.

Your stomach churned with a familiar fire of pleasure. Your skin raised with goosebumps as Carlos’ thumbs circled your skin through the fairly thin fabric of your polo. A muffled moan was lodged in your throat the sound of Carlos’ grunts.

Carlos’ hands moved from your hips to the hem of your skirt. His hands dipped under the pink material that had been enticing him all day, feeling the ample flesh of your bare ass. An audible moan came from his throat as you had moved your lips to his neck to stop drinking those beautiful sounds.

“You’re such a tease, you know that? No fucking underwear so I could see those juicy lips of yours? Were you just waiting for me to take you from behind? What if Lando saw? Hmm?” Carlos queried, groping your ass while his fiery puppy browns pierced into your eyes.

You let out a small whine against his heated neck, bucking your hips against his cock.

“You like that, cariño? The idea of getting caught?” Carlos asked even though he clearly knew the answer if he looked down at the dark stain beginning to form on the front of your skirt.

Carlos smiled softly at your impatient eyes, pressed your hips onto his groin. “Grind on me, cariño. Make a mess on me,” He whispered, taking your lips with his once again.

You moaned as you rocked your hips back and forth in his bulge. The wave of arousal you craved slowly creeped up on you. The hard textured material of his shirt felt like a sin against your pussy. Carlos’ hands helping you keep your pace and making sure you felt every part of hard-on set you on fire.

Smoothly, Carlos used one of his hands to sneak up your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers leaving you in a blaze as he grazed your skin. “That’s it, cariño, that’s it,” He murmured against your lips. His fingers confused past the apex of your thigh, nearing your burning core.

Fuck, were you turned on. The heat radiating off your pussy was dangerous. His thumb edged towards your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves ever so slowly.

“Shit,” you swore, arching your back against the steering wheel. Your pussy ground up against his fingers while trying to press further on his cock; entertaining both levels of pleasure.

Carlos felt his cock tighten painfully against his hands when he moved his eyes from you and down to where your pussy met him. God, you had made a mess. His eyes flickered back up, watching you obscenely cover the Prancing Horse. “Merde,” He cussed.

This was how he wanted you. Fuck. Making a claim on everything that belonged to him with your body. Just the way he wanted.

You could feel Carlos dip his head forward, giving a long lick to your right nipple. You were sure your white polo was now see through, letting your pebbled mounds become available for Carlos’ disposal. You moaned, feeling your pussy become sticky with pleasure as Carlos pulled down the cut of your polo, freeing your breasts from those teasing confines, watching them bounce in admiration before he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

You arched your back even further, pushing your breast into his mouth while the other hand resting on your hip moved to fondle your lonely nipple, leaving you to do the rest of the work. "Carlos," You cried out breathlessly, speeding the pace of your hips as a familiar coil began to unwind at the pit of your stomach.

Carlos knew that tone better than he knew his circuits. Unlatching his swollen lips from your nipple, he looked up at you, making you moan even further. It was hard to disagree that Carlos was a good looking man, but right now, you were seeing him like no other: puffy lips, sweat-ridden tousled brown hair, cheeks freckled with pinks and reds, dark lust-hazed eyes... all for you.

"Don't cum just yet, cariño. I need to be inside you," Carlos panted, his tongue swiping his lips drenched.

You shuddered at the action before looking at him in dismay. "Carlos. Papi, no. Por favor." Please.

Just when Carlos thought his cock couldn't harden any further, you had proven the impossible. He held your chin in his hand, forcing you to hold his gaze. "Don't do that, cariño. Don't papi me. I'm already being so nice, hmm? Be a good girl and listen to be, okay baby?"

You sighed in frustration but you hips eased it's speed, succumbing to Carlos without a second thought.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of your head, continuing to rub your clit excruciatingly slow. "That's my girl," He praised, pressing you right against the steering wheel as he lifted his hips up.

Naturally your hands fell to his shorts, eagerly pushing down the pair of clothing as far as you could in this space. Your mouth salivated at the large bulge in his grey boxers. It was like his cock was greeting you; aching to me to you. In awe, you put your hand over his hard cock, softly brushing over the pulsating bulge.

"Fuck," Carlos sighed, eyes closed, feeling like he was on an obscene high already. He felt you gently trace over his thick cock, going even slower when you reached his tip, painstakingly grazing his slit through his boxers. He shot out his hand, holding yours in place.

Carlos swallowed all the saliva that he had gathered after seeing your wide, almost innocent, eyes beaming at him while a sickly sweet smile sprawled across your face. Jesus. How did he ever let you go? Now that he had you, he most certainly couldn't.

You grinned, knowing exactly how to awake the monster within him. You pushed down his boxers, letting him fully settle into the seat of the Ferrari and his cock stand against his toned stomach with a shade that almost made it look like it was angry with you for taking this long.

Gathering all the saliva in your mouth, you let the hot clear fluid slowly fall from your lips and onto his cock. Carlos sighed at the feeling, thumb reaching out to gather the last few drops from your lips before you brought it into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the pad of his thumb, giving him a pre-show before you released him.

Carlos watched as you bent down towards his cock, using your hand to rub your saliva down his throbbing cock. You could feel him pulsing in your hands, dying to be inside you. You lifted yourself back up, signalling Carlos you were ready.

Carlos' hands skated up your skirt, grabbing your bare hips as he guided you over his cock. All this time he had been teasing you as awfully as you had teased him today, so when you felt his cock against your wet folds, you let out a gasp while you hips bucked against involuntarily.

"Jesus fucking Christ," You swore, shuddering at the intoxicating high swarming through your body.

Carlos' cock throbbed against your pussy. He loved your sensitivity, so he pushed himself through your folds again, tip rubbing against your stimulated clit. He grunted against you. He could watch your body defy you over and over again.

But as much as he loved it, Carlos had been waiting to be in you liked a starved man.

Carlos' eyes flittered up to yours while he slowly pushed his cock into you. He memorised you carefully. Every twitch, every quiver. Your parter lips, the frequency of your moan. The contortion of your eyebrows while pleasure laced your eyes. He could remember you like this forever; his beautiful girl.

"Carlos," You panted, "more, please."

"Your wish is my command, princesa," Carlos whispered against your skin, pushing his hips further into you. His hands tightened around your waist, the warm grip of your folds pulling him in like a drug.

You knew it then and you knew it know. Carols had bewitched you. You would never be able to get enough of this feeling. The feeling of his cock jerking into your pussy because he just can't control himself. Nor the feeling of sucking him in like a vice because you want him all to yourself.

Carlos moaned, thrusting his aching cock while he muttered obscenities as if he was under some sort of spell. For what it was worth, he was. Every day, you entranced him. But right now, the sight of you against the Prancing Horse that was waiting to be covered in your cum... your saliva-covered breasts bouncing, your arched back against the wheel... it was driving him crazy. You were driving him crazy.

Your hands travelled to his hair, lips grazing past the bridge of his nose while you groaned. Your fingers wrapped his dishevelled brown waves around them, giving his locks a slight tug that coursed down his body.

Your hips ground against Carlos harshly, attempting to take any extra sliver of euphoria. His cock drove in and out of you at a rate that left no innocence in this car. It was lewd; the slapping of your sticky skin against one another, your breathless pants mingling together, and the fogged windows occurring from your feverish skin. Fuck, the both of you were in overdrive.

You let out a small whimper when you felt your body start to shake. You looked down at Carlos, who was peppering your bare shoulder with long sloppy kisses as he continued to thrust. Your eyes softened and the coil in your stomach began to tighten. "Carlos, I–"

Carlos smiled at the urgency in your voice. He began to pick up his pace, let out a few breathless pants. "Cum for me, mi amor."

You shook your head. "No, fuck, fuck, I–" You closed your eyes at the nearing high but forced them to open again, finding those puppy browns staring you down with confusion and maybe, just maybe, a bit of trauma from the last time. But you just had to say it. "I love you, Carlos. I love you so fucking much, mi amor. And I'll love you forever," You sobbed out.

Carlos gazed at you with wide eyes, his pace faltering slightly. As much as it turned him on, his heart was probably ten times happier. He felt warm; complete. He softened his gaze, bringing one hand to your cheek. His heart swelled at your natural lean in. Brushing his thumb gently, "I love you so much, Y/N. So much. And I'll never forget to remind you until my very last breath. You're my entire universe, querida (darling)."

Your eyes watered with a sickening amount of love as your body was hit with wave after wave. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed, clenching your eyes, a few tears slowly falling. Your hips bucked up against him, reaching for the high as Carlos rubbed your clit in fast circles.

"That's it, mi amor. Cum for me. Cover the the entire fucking wheel. Make a mess," Carlos encouraged, pushing you against the wheel, making your body convulse even further at the new texture.

"Fuck!" You swore, pussy throbbing and hips involuntarily jerking, reaching your climax.

Carlos groaned at the tight clench around his cock.

"Cum for me, Carlos. Look at the mess I made. All because of you. All for you," You coaxed, riding your sensitive pussy over him slowly.

His eyes flickered to the black Prancing Horse covered in your arousal; each little crevice of the wheel soaking up your cum. God, the monster you made him... He grunted, speeding up his pace as the coil in his stomach began to unwind quickly.

"Fuck, fuck," Carlos moaned loudly, holding you tightly to him. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," He muttered like a mantra, hips stuttering against you. He twitched inside you, feeling the hot salty strings of his cum spill into you.

"Oh, fuck," He sighed again, head falling on your chest while you moaned at the feeling of his cum inside you, clenching just one more time. His cock throbbed with another small high, pumping the last few ropes of his cum into you.

You let out a slow exhale, lifting Carlos' head by tilting his chin to face you. You rubbed his face gently, leaving a trail of kisses on his face as you both calmed down. You eyed the fogged windows and turned to see the Prancing Horse that had started this whole thing in the first place. You laughed softly.

"Well that was a stylish vision you had there," You remarked with a grin.

Carlos grinned right back at you. "Oh, cariño, we are doing that at least once every week."

"Oh, really?" You teased, putting your hands around his neck. "Well this type of car sex is definitely my style," You agreed after some feigned thinking.

Carlos smiled, tucking your sweaty hair behind your ears. He placed a long kiss on your lips. "It's our style."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[dixons-sunshine]

Unholy | Vamp!Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While on a run for some supplies, you and Daryl stumbled across some of his old “friends”. Something happened that struck up an old hunger in the archer. However, with the strict “no feeding on humans” rule that Deanna enforced on Daryl, that hunger wouldn't get satiated. Well, not without your help, at least.

Genre: Smut.

Era: Early Alexandria.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, dry humping, ejaculation (male).

Word count: 5.5k.

A/n: Um, so this got way longer than I had originally planned lol. Whoops. Anyways, this was written for two of the loveliest people I have the pleasure of knowing. @darylssunshine and @lazyneonrabbitt. I hope I did your ideas justice. (Although I feel like I failed because the plot is all over the place.) Also, before anyone comes at me for the way I wrote Daryl as a vampire, I know the lore isn't factual. I just wanted to create a version of him that resonated with me, y'know? Anyways, apart from that, I hope y'all enjoy!

“Christ, woman. Ya gotta be more careful. One wrong slip and yer tumblin' down, and somethin' tells me the landin' ain't gon' be soft.”

You chuckled as Daryl tightly wrapped his arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the platform that you had been attempting to hoist yourself onto only a mere five seconds prior. The platform wasn't that high and the climb wasn't that difficult, but your partner was being extremely overprotective that day. Well, you guess you couldn't blame him. You had just been given the go-ahead to go on runs again by the community doctor, so his overprotectiveness came from a place of good intentions.

“Careful, Dixon. It's starting to sound like you actually care about little old me,” you replied, a playful edge to your voice. You extended a hand and helped hoist Daryl onto the platform. You knew your help wasn't needed, but your partner would never make that known to you.

Daryl straightened his vest and rolled his eyes at your playful comment. “Nah, I dun' care.” He walked off and allowed himself a small smile at the sound of your hurried footsteps to keep up with his speed. “M'only keepin' ya 'round 'cause ya make a mean deer stew. If it weren't fer tha', I would'a gotten rid'a ya a while ago.”

You scoffed and hit the archer on his chest, before bringing your hand to rest over your heart in mock-offense. “How dare you?” you started in a dramatic, over the top fashion. “I'll have you know that I have a million different qualities for people to want to keep me around. I can't think of specific examples right now, but I'm sure I have other qualities.”

Daryl chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, placing a tender kiss to the side of your head. “Yeah, ya do. I was jus' playin'.” He pulled back and took your hand in his, allowing you to intertwine your fingers together. “And I can think'a specific examples. For one, yer incredibly smart. Yer loyal, a good friend, and ya—”

Daryl suddenly cut himself off, making you frown. The archer pulled his hand away from yours as he took a few steps forward, his eyes darting all over the place. His head was slightly cocked to one side, a clear sign that he was trying to hear something, something that you couldn't. His body was visibly tensed up, and his entire defensive demeanour had you on edge.

“Daryl, what's wro—”

You never got to finish your question, because in a matter of milliseconds, Daryl was rushing towards you and wrapping his arms around you, before throwing the both of you over the edge of the platform you were on. Your mind could hardly comprehend what was happening, so no screams or anything escaped you. Before you knew it, the two of you landed on the ground, with Daryl laying flat on his back and you on top of him. The archer had clearly situated himself in a way so that he would take most of the damage the fall caused. Before you could even begin to comprehend what had happened and ask him why the hell he did what he did, an array of gunshots echoed through the air, the bullets ricocheting off of the metal on the platform you and Daryl had stood on a few seconds ago. As quickly as the bullets started flying all over the place, just as quickly, they stopped. In their place, all that could be heard were the bloodcurdling screams of the perpetrators.

Your heart was attempting to pound out of your chest. The screams were dying out one by one, and you could only assume that the walkers had gotten to the people who had shot those guns. The feeling of Daryl's hands gently yet firmly lifting you off of him snapped you out of your thoughts. “Daryl, wha—”

“No time.” In one, swift movement, Daryl was on his feet and he had tugged you up as well. He grabbed your hand and started pulling you behind him, clearly in a rush to escape the building. “We gotta go. They can't see ya. They're gon' kill ya. I can't let that happen.”

“The walkers?” When Daryl didn't respond, you harshly yanked your hand out of his grip. The pain spread through your body at the movement, but you couldn't think of that. The archer spun around to face you, his eyes showing how panicked he was, something extremely rare to see. The panic in his eyes stirred up a sense of dread in you. “Dar—”

A few whistles echoed through the room, effectively startling you. Daryl cursed under his breath and hurried to stand in front of you, shielding you from whatever danger lurked in the shadows. Your heart sped up considerably, the fear in you spiking through the roof. Daryl clearly sensed it, and apparently, so did the danger in the shadows.

“Aah, yes,” a deep voice ominously snarled from the shadows. “She smells fucking good.”

“So good,” another voice chipped in. “She'll make a nice addition to our feast tonight.”

“We're adding her to the rain?”

“Hell yeah. Everyone should have a taste. We're not selfish, Stevie.”

“Holy shit,” another voice chipped in, this one much higher and more feminine. “Boys, look at that. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

“We sure are, Janine,” the first voice agreed. “It's Daryl motherfucking Dixon, back from the grave.”

With that, the voices made their visual presence known. From the shadows, three bodies appeared. Two guys and one woman, all sporting smeared blood on their mouths, emerged from the shadows. Daryl visibly tensed and shifted in front of you, forming a protective barrier between you and the unknown people.

“Hey, guys,” Daryl drawled out hesitantly, his body still acting as a protective barrier in front of you. “Where's the others?”

“Holy shit, it really is him,” one of the guys laughed, clapping his hands together twice for added emphasis. “Daryl Dixon. What's up, man? Last I heard, Tommy told us you were dead. Told us that asshole brother of yours got mixed up with some hunters and killed you. Glad that isn't true. The gang's still going strong, believe it or not. The others are out searching for food. They will be thrilled to see you. We missed you around here.”

“Speak for yourself, Stevie,” the woman—Janine, you guessed—scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. “This asshole left us to die all those years ago. We should kill him and that bitch he's trying to protect.”

“What, that human?” the guy barked out with a laugh. “Please, Daryl here is too smart to be hanging around with humans. He's keeping her alive to feed on her. You know how tough it is to get decent food nowadays. The flesh eaters are beating us to it.”

“Please, don't make me laugh. Dixon?” the other guy piped in. “Guy's too much of a pussy to keep a human around for that. You know how hard it was to convince him to feed on humans. Son of a bitch was planning on going vegan and drinking animal blood. It wouldn't surprise me if the little human is his friend or something.”

As the two guys started arguing, with Janine rolling her eyes and trying to break up the argument, Daryl started whispering to you. “Ya see tha' openin' there, righ' between those two pieces'a metal?” When you nodded, he continued. “I'mma need ya to stay real quiet, head tha' way and hide, alrigh'? Thing's are gon' get messy. I need ya outta the line'a fire. I know ya have a bunch'a questions, and I'll answer 'em all later. I jus' need ya to do wha' I ask, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled quietly. “I love you.”

“Love ya too. Now go.”

Following his orders, you slipped away from behind him, praying harder than you ever had before that you didn't capture the attention of the others. You weren't stupid. You knew exactly what these “people” were—vampires. And based on that little interaction, and Daryl's panic, you were certain that they weren't exactly the friendly type of vampire, either.

You were nearing the opening that Daryl had talked about, succeeding in not making a sound, until you felt a whoosh beside you. You stood face to face with one of the men, the guy giving you a creepy smile. “Where do you think you're going, baby? The fun is just beginning.”

Before you could make a run for it, the guy had pushed you and you were flying through the air, your back soon making harsh contact with the wall. All the wind got knocked from your lungs, and your vision got a bit spotty. Bringing a hand up to the back of your head, you could feel the stickiness of the red liquid before you saw it. You were bleeding.

The scent of your blood filled the air, and hunger instantly dawned on every vampire's face—every face except Daryl's. In seconds, they were all lunging for you, only stopping short because Daryl used his body as a protective barrier again. “Don't,” he warned them.

Janine laughed wickedly. “Looks like Derek was right after all. You're still the same fucking wimp you were all those years ago. Still protecting your precious little humans.” Janine licked her lips, her fangs elongating. “I'm gonna have so much fun watching the life drain from her eyes.”

The last shred of the archer's patience snapped, and before anyone could properly see what he was doing, he lunged for the woman, snapping her neck effortlessly. The woman's life drained from her eyes—temporarily, as Daryl had told you that the only way to properly kill a vampire was by getting it in the heart—and that was enough to send the other two into a fit of rage.

“You motherfucker!”

Daryl grabbed the guy that was charging at him and threw him to the other side of the room. He briefly turned to look at you, quickly helping you to your feet. “Go! Get to tha' openin'!”

You definitely didn't need to be told twice. Walkers were predictable. They were loud, clumsy. You could handle walkers. Vampires were an entirely different ballpark. Daryl could easily overpower you without even using his full strength. You definitely did not want to find out what a vampire using its full strength could do to you. Ignoring the pain in your body, you bolted for that opening, wanting to get out of the line of fire. You didn't want to leave Daryl alone with these psychopaths, but you knew you didn't really have much of a choice. You'd be more of a liability than much help. Being safe would ensure that Daryl had a clear mind. He could defend himself. He'd be okay.

When Daryl saw you crawl into the opening, all hell broke loose. The guy—who Daryl knew from his life before the outbreak to be Derek—met a cruel, agonizing end. He had made the mistake to try and get to you. Daryl rushed over to him, grabbed him and pushed him forward, right into one of the metal rods sticking out of the wall. The rod impaled him in the chest, right through the most vital organ that kept him alive. Derek yelled as the rod drove right through him, but as soon as his heart was touched, he fell deathly silent—emphasis on the deathly. Two down, one to go. Daryl turned around and faced Stevie, the biggest and strongest vampire of the three. The archer knew that he had his work cut out for him.

Stevie approached Daryl threateningly. “What the hell are you doing, man?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone of voice. “That one human can't be worth more than years of friendship with us. All can be forgiven. Hand her over, add her blood to the rain, and everything will be fine.”

Daryl practically growled, his eyes alight with a fiery glare. “Ya add her blood to tha' fuckin' rain yer talkin' 'bout, I'll fuckin' kill ya.”

Stevie shook his head in disappointment. “Matt was right,” he began. “I never should've turned you. I should've left you to die on the side of that road.”

“Yeah, ya prolly shoulda.” The two men lunged for the other, the two colliding against each other harshly. However, by some stroke of luck, Daryl quickly got the upper hand. He unsheathed his knife and plunged it deeply into the other man's chest, eliciting a scream from him. Daryl firmly gripped the shirt of the man, bringing his face dangerously close to his. “Nah, scratch tha'. Ya definitely shoulda let me die tha' day. Guess s'a bit too late for tha' now, huh?”

With that, Daryl withdraw his knife and threw the almost lifeless corpse away from him. However, what the archer didn't know was that he threw the body right into a lever, the same lever that activated the rain the other vampires had been talking about—a blood rain.

Human blood sprayed out of the sprinkler system and rained down on Daryl, drenching him in seconds. The scent was extremely overwhelming to him, and when Daryl lifted his head to see where the blood was coming from, a few drops fell onto his lips. Against his better judgement, he licked his lips, the taste of human blood filling his taste buds for the first time in years. The taste overwhelmed his senses completely, and it took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to just open his mouth and greedily absorb every droplet of blood that fell from the sprinkler.

“Daryl?”

The sound of your voice instantly caught his attention, and he forced himself to snap back to reality. Janine would only be out cold for a few minutes more at best, and he had no idea when the others would return. He had to get you out of there. “C'mon, we gotta go,” he spoke up hoarsely. He quickly walked over to the woman and plunged his knife into her heart, ending her life completely, before making a beeline for the door you had come through earlier.

You quickly followed behind him, confused by his haste, but you refrained from saying anything. Your head was still throbbing painfully and your body was aching all over. Plus now you were drenched in blood, so that added to your discomfort. You silently climbed into the truck you had brought out with you for the run and started it, watching Daryl climb onto his newly-assembled bike and speed off. You shifted the truck into drive and followed behind him, leaving the factory behind you.

The drive back to Alexandria was long, and all you had to accompany you were your own thoughts. You had a million questions you wanted to ask your partner, and you needed answers. One problem you encountered when you finally got home, though? Daryl wouldn't be near anybody, not even you. When you got showered and wanted to settle down, Daryl was nowhere to be found.

The only thing that was left in his absence was an open window and a short note explaining that he'd be fine and not to worry about him.

Three days. It had been three days since that incident at the old factory. Three days since Daryl had disappeared. Three days since you were promised an explanation.

As quickly as you were given permission to go on runs again, just as quickly you were placed on bed rest again. That vampire had thrown you with quite the force. According to the doctor, Denise, you had bruised your ribs, and rather badly, too. She told you that you were lucky they weren't broken. Your back was also really badly bruised. It made sleeping rather hard, and without your partner there, your own personal space heater, sleep completely eluded you.

The house was relatively quiet that day. With you being placed on bed rest and banned from helping out around the community, you laid on the bed while staring at the ceiling, the only thing occupying your mind being the memory of you hugging Daryl for the first time; it also happened to be the first time you had commented on the warmth his body emitted, despite his “undead” nature. However, the archer had simply chuckled, vowing to explain it to you another time.

The sound of the window to your bedroom opening had your senses peaking to high alert. You grabbed the knife that rested under your pillow and hurriedly sprung up from the bed, clutching the weapon tightly. However, you calmed down once you saw who it was; your partner, gripping his crossbow while holding a dead squirrel between his teeth.

“Daryl, oh my god,” you breathed a sigh of relief and helped him through the window. However, once he was inside, Daryl firmly pushed you to the side and tried to put as much distance between the two of you as he physically could without having to leave the room. That made you confused. “Daryl, what—”

“Dun' come any closer. Please,” he mumbled out weakly, removing the dead squirrel from his mouth and tightly clutching it in his hands. “I dun' wanna hurt ya. Jus' needed to see if ya were alrigh'.”

“Hurt me?” You took a small step forward, stopping short when Daryl tensed up. “What do you mean hurt me? That's impossible. You can never hurt me.” You took a tentative step towards the archer, determined to show him that you didn't fear him, despite the warning that he could hurt you. You didn't believe that. He could never hurt you. Of that you were certain. “I don't know what's going on in that amazing mind of yours, but I want to understand. Please. Talk to me.”

Daryl let out a shuddered breath when your hand made contact with his cheek, unknowingly dropping the dead animal on the ground. Your scent was heavily intoxicating, like some drug he could easily get addicted to, and it made it extremely hard for him to keep his hunger at bay. Still, he tried. He tried his hardest. He would never willingly hurt the most precious thing in his life. He'd much rather have his own heart get ripped out than hurt you.

His instincts somewhat got the better of him. Daryl slightly turned his head and kissed your wrist, his teeth barely scraping against your skin. You inhaled sharply at the contact, your mind instantly flooded with thoughts that Gabriel would declare unholy, but you forced yourself to think straight. There would be time for things like that another time. For now, you had to get through to your partner. You had to figure out what was going through his mind. And you had to figure out why his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes had adapted that crimson colour when he was actively feeding not even five minutes prior.

“Talk to me,” you begged, pleaded, in a soft tone. “What's going on?” A few beats of silence passed. Daryl withdrew from your touch and took a few steps back, and you were convinced that he was going to shut you down, but you were pleasantly surprised when he let out a deep sigh and nodded.

“Ya remember those vamps tha' we encountered three days ago?” When you nodded, he continued. “I guess ya can say tha' they were my “friends”. When I got bitten by Stevie way back when, they took me in, showed me the ropes. They told me tha' if I wanted to survive, I'd have to live according to their customs. I'd have to feed off'a humans. For a while, tha's all tha' I knew. I mean, they've been alive for decades. I was a nobody, jus' some kid they took in. It didn't mean tha' I liked it, though. I wished more than anythin' for a way out.”

Daryl stopped for a moment and sat down on the bed before continuing. “But then they said tha' to prove myself, I'd have to kill my brother, drink his blood. Tha's when I jus' couldn't do it anymore. I got some vamp to pretend to have gotten into a scuffle with me and to tell everyone tha' he had killed me. I got my act straight and searched for alternatives, and tha's how I started becomin' “vegan”. I haven't had human blood again since then. Well, not since...” Daryl cleared his throat, his breath hitching when he inhaled too deeply and caught a whiff of your intoxicating scent again. “Not since tha' whole ordeal with those bastards. The blood tha' rained down on us was human blood. I made the mistake of tastin' it. Now nothin' s'satisfyin' my hunger. Not deer, not squirrel, nothin'. M'so goddamn hungry and I dun' know wha' to do.”

Silence. It got so silent that one could hear a pin drop. It got so silent that you could hear someone fiddling around with the pots and pans in the kitchen, that someone being Gabriel. The priest, although not very liked by your group, had been allowed to stay in your home. You were sure that if he had heard Daryl's confession, he'd run to Deanna first chance he got. But that wasn't your main focus at that moment.

Nothing would satisfy his hunger. No, that definitely wasn't something you believed. No animal would satisfy his hunger. However, you were sure that you could think of an alternative to his problems; you could be his solution. Seeing your man in such a state broke your heart, and if you could help him out of his terrible predicament, how could you say no?

With your decision made, you moved over to Daryl. You slowly straddled his lap and looped your arms around his neck. Daryl inhaled deeply and moved to grip your hips and lift you off of him, not trusting his own instincts, but you didn't allow him to do so. “Don't,” you whispered, gently brushing his hair away from his eyes.

Daryl's now blood red eyes stared at you, a small whimper escaping him. God, you smelled so good. It was getting to be too much to handle. If he didn't put some distance between the two of you, he'd most certainly do something he'd end up regretting. “I dun' wanna hurt ya. Ya smell so good and m'not sure I can control myself much longer. I have to go. I—”

“Don't,” you repeated your earlier statement. “No matter what you do, nothing satisfies your hunger, right?” When Daryl nodded, you continued. “No animal blood satisfies your hunger. My blood will.”

“Nah. I ain't doin' tha',” Daryl denied your offer, his breathing starting to fasten at the idea. He had to admit, the thought of tasting your blood sounded extremely appealing to him, but he couldn't. He didn't know if he'd be able to stop.

“It's either with me, your partner who won't snitch on you for this, or some innocent person. If you don't feed now, some innocent person is going to die. We don't want that.”

“Nah, I can't.” Daryl's words rung through the air as his breathing became more erratic. Although he was steadfast in his denial to your gracious request, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips. “I haven't drunk from a person in years. Wha' if I can't stop?”

“That won't happen,” you told him reassuringly, your fingers gently working through his hair. “I trust you. You'll know when to stop.”

Daryl inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as his self-restraint started to dwindle even more. “But, Gabriel's here. He's gon' hear everythin',” he mumbled, lowering his head to rest on your shoulder. “Ya've heard me when I feed on animals. Increase tha' by ten when it comes to human blood. He's gon' tell Deanna and m'gonna be kicked out, maybe even killed.”

“Well,” you began with a seductive smirk. You pulled back, moved your hands down to grip the edge of your shirt and tugged it over your head, leaving your upper body completely bare to your partner's now lustful gaze. “I guess you need some motivation to stay quiet, huh?”

Daryl let out a shuddered breath, his eyes trailing over your body. Any ounce of his self-restraint flew out of the window. All he thought about was you, and how absolutely amazing you'd taste, and he didn't want to admit that the thought sent blood rushing straight down to his dick. “Wha' do ya have in mind?”

Your smirk widened slightly at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you. Your hands moved to the back of his head, your eyes alight with mischief as your idea came out to play. “I'm gonna give you what you told me was your favourite thing and pair it with feeding you,” you began, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back. “This.” Without even giving him time to process your words, you gently yet firmly brought his face down to your boobs, stuffing his face between them. “Drink.”

To say Daryl was surprised would be an understatement. He definitely hadn't expected that. Even just offering to help satisfy his hunger by drinking your blood was unexpected, and then that happened? However, he knew that you weren't about to take no for an answer, so very slowly and gingerly, he pressed a few kisses to your now bare chest, mentally preparing both you and him for what was about to transpire.

The small action had a white-hot fire shooting down through your body, all the way to your core. Without even fully registering what you were doing, you moaned softly and slowly ground yourself down against his erection, eliciting a broken groan from the archer. His self-restraint fully dissipated. His fangs elongated and he finally sunk them down into the flesh of your boobs, right above your nipple.

You yelped at the unexpected pain that came from his fangs penetrating your skin, but you refrained from pulling back against the pain. The pain would soon go away, you reassured yourself. The thought barely had time to sit in your mind until it was proven correct. The pain very quickly dulled into something more manageable and, dare you even say it, something way more pleasurable. The feeling had you rolling your hips against his, a desperate attempt to relieve the ache that formed at your core.

Daryl groaned at both the feeling of the pressure you bestowed on his clothed cock and the taste of the delicious crimson that filled his taste buds. You tasted better than anything he'd ever had before in his entire existence, human or animal. It was almost unbearable. His senses were acutely aware of you. Only you. He couldn't focus on anything else.

Subconsciously, Daryl started moving his hips up against yours, begging for any sort of friction to relieve the ache in his pants. You moaned at the feeling, grinding yourself down against him harder. Daryl wasn't going to last long, and you knew it. You knew his tells for when he was close. And for some reason, the thought of him falling apart simply by the taste of you and the little bit of friction pressed against him was so incredibly hot to you.

Daryl was close, in more ways than one. He was close to coming. He was close to retracting his fangs from your flesh as to not take too much of your blood. He was close to metaphorically dying. He was on cloud nine at that moment, and he never wanted to come down. Your blood was an addictive drug, one that he never wanted to get clean from. There was no rehab for him when the drug he was consuming at that moment was so damn good. He couldn't get enough of you. And after this whole ordeal, he doubted if he'd ever be able to go back to his former animal-drinking ways.

One last suck, one last mouthful of your delicious crimson liquid and one last grind of your hips had him tumbling over the edge. His body shook at the powerful feeling of his orgasm, white, hot spurts of his release coating the insides of his jeans. Daryl whimpered against your flesh, the intensity of it all making his mind incredibly foggy.

“That's it. Good job, Baby. You did so good,” you whispered soothingly, your mind also hazy from both the blood loss and the loss of your approaching release. However, you wouldn't tell Daryl about that last part. He could take care of you another time. Besides, even if he was willing to help you out at that moment, you doubted that you would be able to. You felt very light-headed, and all you wanted to do was collapse into your partner's arms.

Daryl withdrew his fangs from the skin of your breast. He looked up at you with his now-blue eyes, only small specks of red still coating the beautiful irises. “Ya alrigh'?” he asked you quietly, warily eyeing the way you eyes started to droop. “I didn't take too much, did I?”

You slowly shook your head. “No. I'll be okay. Just a bit light-headed.” You forced your eyes to focus on Daryl, desperately wanting to reassure him that you didn't regret a thing and that you were indeed just fine. “I promise I'm okay, Dar. You didn't take that much. I just need to rest and I'll be fine.”

Daryl hesitantly nodded before lowering his head to the wound his fangs had made onto your flesh. He gingerly licked at the blood that poured from the open skin before going back to the source, gently licking at it. “This'll help it heal faster,” Daryl explained, although he didn't have to. You were well aware of the healing attributes his spit carried. He had “magic spit”, as you had jokingly called it once before.

When he was done, he gently lifted you off his lap, placing you down next to him. He grabbed your shirt from the ground and helped you to put it on. “C'mon, in bed with ya. Ya need to take it easy.” When you complied with his request, he took it upon himself to clean up the mess he made in his jeans. He shuddered as he slowly undressed himself, his release sticking to him in a way he didn't like. He grabbed his rag and cleaned himself up, before grabbing a fresh pair of sweatpants from the dresser and putting them on. When everything was done, and with the immediate risk of hurting you gone, he clambered into bed with you. He wrapped his arms around you, cuddling you from behind. He was certain that you had fallen asleep, but he was pleasantly surprised when he heard your voice.

“Should you be this hot?” you asked him, turning around to place your head on his chest.

“Wha' do ya mean?” Daryl asked you in confusion, his arms adjusting to hold you close to his chest.

“Well, vampires are considered to be dead, right? Dead things are usually cold. You're not. I wanna know why.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “I dun' really know why. There are a bunch'a different types'a vamps. M'guessin' the reason I have human heat s'cause I didn't fully complete the “transformation” process. Yer supposed to drink the blood'a the vamp tha' bit ya to fully transform into one. I never did tha'. Stevie didn't want me to and said it didn't matter whether or not I did. Guess tha's wha's keepin' my human traits in check.”

“What happens to those that don't fully transform?”

“Not much. We dun' become immortal. Tha's why m'agin' jus' like everyone else. Tha's a huge plus for me. I definitely dun' wanna live forever. We need human food to survive jus' as much as we need blood. Can't survive purely off'a blood and can't survive purely off'a food. Need to have both.” He stopped, placed a tender kiss on your forehead, and continued. “We can walk in the sun without dyin', so tha's good. And, uh, we can make babies who are completely human, but I dun' know how true tha' is. Never tried it 'fore.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his clothed chest. “Well, I'm always up to try it. To test out that theory. Just tell me when.”

Daryl's breath hitched in his throat. You couldn't be serious about that, could you? “This yer way'a tellin' me ya want a baby?”

You shrugged and closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh. “I'm not getting any younger. I kinda want to start a family. But it's okay if you don't want to. I'd never force you to...” you trailed off, your breathing evening out.

Daryl looked down at you in surprise at your revelation. You wanted to start a family? With him? The thought both scared and excited him. “Ya really want tha'? With me?” he asked you. However, he got no reply. You were fast asleep. He chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. “We'll talk 'bout it when ya ain't delirious from blood loss.”

[freyito]

Can you do the type of dates Mk1 guys will take you on?

idk if yall caught on but i absolutely love making these big ass drabbles for everyone... takes so long but its always so worth it. i got like 3 more in the drafts el oh el

cw: gn reader, juuuust fluff, bonus characters!, proofread

ᴛʏᴘᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴ

⎯ Liu Kang

Need I say it? I'll say it anyways. Stargazing. Liu Kang loves taking you stargazing. He'll take you absolutely anywhere in the world. It does not matter that he's lived under these stars for ages and ages. He enjoys seeing Earthrealm's natural beauty. And the stars, of course.

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han prefers private moments with you, so his favorite date is simply a nice stroll. Sure, he could be lavish and drop a whole bunch of money on you, but he feels like that does not display his love properly. He just likes quality time with you, really. A nice, private dinner with you doesn't sound bad, either... or even ice skating. As cheesy as that is for someone like him.

⎯ Kuai Liang

As much as Kuai tries to be simple, he really loves taking you to festivals. As often as he can, of course that kind of amounts to like eight a year. But he loves them, he loves every single aspect of them. Mainly pampering you and buying you all the food you could want. His favorite festival is actually the Lantern Festival, he loves sending off lanterns with you.

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny sets up the most fancy, frivolous, and expensive dates for you, always. Truth be told, however, he really just likes a night in with you. Ordering your favorite take-out, cuddling up on the couch, watching one of his favorite movies- which, surprisingly, isn't one of his! He really loves horror movie nights, too. He chooses the corniest movies, and gets kind of disappointed if you don't AT LEAST squeeze his bicep during the scary parts.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

I like to think Kenshi is a good ol' fashioned lover boy. He loves extending the date through the whole day. He starts off with surprising you with flowers in the morning, maybe going on for a nice little stroll, have lunch at a quaint little café, and finish it all off with some dancing. Perhaps in the kitchen, or at a club, whichever you choose. Kenshi is actually terrifyingly good at dancing, he's just smooth like that.

⎯ Kung Lao

Madam Bo's. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Are you surprised? No. I know you aren't. Kung Lao loves any date that involves food, but enjoying something as simple and humble as a meal at Madam Bo's specifically has been and always will be his favorite.

⎯ Raiden

Raiden loves picnics! Somewhere in the secluded country-side, just enjoying your time with him. A myriad of home-made appetizers and what not. He believes it's one of the most intimate ways to spend time with you. He also loves to admire the way the sun compliments your figure, as well.

⎯ Zeffeero

Zeffeero seems particularly excited when it rains. Of course. It's in the job description. He urges you in the most nonchalant way for a quick stroll in the rain. Which inevitably leads to dancing in the rain. He tries to keep his composure around you, to look like that respectable wizard all the damn time. But you make him crumble, and he just can't help but giving in to breaking that façade with you.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Tomas also loves taking you out for dinner at Madam Bo's. Partially because he still feels guilty. But he loves the food there, and he hopes you do, too. To be honest, any time spent with you is worth it. So when it comes to dates, he doesn't exactly have a go-to or a favorite.

⎯ Baraka

Stargazing. The wastes provide a great space away from any sort of light pollution, and truth be told, Baraka prefers any time away from any populated places with you. He's afraid of the backlash you could get, as well as just the overall fear of spreading Tarkat. He knows his place, really. But those moments, deep in the night, where the stars are the brightest make up for all the worry.

⎯ Geras

Geras kind of has... no concept on dates. Like, none. He's a construct, and he doesn't really know much of the human connection. He's content simply by seeing you- which is kind of all your dates amount to. He's busy regardless, he has to watch over the hourglass.

⎯ Syzoth

Would it sound weird if I said Syzoth really liked hiking...? Aside from just cuddling up with you, he likes to explore. Especially with Earthrealm being so new to him. Being all sort of tucked away in the mountains, just with you, where he's free to transform and explore and enjoy his new-found life and freedom just... sparks something within him.

⎯ Havik

Oh boy. Havik also SUCKS at dates. Given his rowdy and anarchist nature, it's really hard for him to find a proper way to settle down and enjoy the day with you. Aside from naps, he genuinely would like you to tag along with him on all his... excursions. Extreme they may be, dismantling some sort of order with you really makes his heart burn for you.

⎯ Shao Kahn

With his status, it's kind of hard to find proper time to take you out. However, when he does, it's always a stereotypical quiet dinner. He's got some pretty damn connections, and somehow always manages to land the right table. Under the moonlight, just talking about your days. He enjoys those quiet, mundane moments.

⎯ Shang Tsung

A day AND night out shopping is really what Shang Tsung loves. He spoils you (and himself), and he's all chatty while you two walk down the market. He's very observant, actually. Any little thing you so much as spend more than 2 seconds looking at is now in your hands. He loves buying you the little things.

⎯ Reiko

Being second in command to Shao, Reiko kind of knows his way around dancing. He's a soldier, yeah, but especially when he's close to the royalty I imagine there's some sort of luxury he has to uphold. Reiko's not the best at dancing by all means, but whenever some sort of ball event starts in Sun Do, he's bringing you. And he gets better, each time.

⎯ Bonus Points! Takeda Takahashi

KARAOKE. Takeda SUCKS at singing, but it's not about that. It is so fun with him. Getting a break from the Shirai Ryu, his father, the special forces, pulling you to some dive, screaming his heart out to some white girl pop, he loves it. And he loves it when you two do those silly little duets. He could care less about how bad he sings, it's just those moments he gets to let loose with you.

⎯ Bonus Points! Hanzo Hasashi

It may come as a surprise, but Hanzo loves little pottery dates. For a man like him, it seems so unlikely. But it's quiet, and actually needs a lot of focus. That's what he likes about it. It's something calming to do, with his love. And he likes to see what you come up with, especially. He kind of sucks at painting, though. So he'll pass off the bowls or cups he makes for you to paint.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day XXI

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It is my honor and privilege to provide you little devils with the schedule for Week Four of Kinktober, put together by our dear @hazelfoureyes! I hope you’ve all been enjoying yourselves so far — idk about the rest of y’all but it’s been an eye-opening month for me! Who said an old dog can’t learn new tricks? 🤭❤️‍🔥

If you’ve missed any — or are looking to binge read some smut — please be sure to check out the masterlist I have linked below that @synamartia has graciously been maintaining for us 🙏🏻

And without further ado, here is my fourth offering to you all. I’ll see y’all again on Sunday! ♥️

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prompt: size kink

sanctuary

“let me satisfy your soul.

i’m not a saint

but do i have to be?”

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Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!alastor x bottom!lucifer (or is it? hehe), alastor is down bad, luci worship, very brief mention of blood and viscera (yk, just horny cannibalistic demon things) 🕊️✨

word count: 1.2k

summary: alastor gets sentimental about how much he loves how small lucifer is.

author’s note: hello darlings! i am once again pushing my romantic radioapple agenda. while i never set out to instill a rose-colored haze, i nevertheless hope you enjoy. in regard to my agenda, well… it will happen again. quote is from holy ghost by børns — and this falls under my previous warning; don’t be surprised if you see it again in the future lol

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven's kinktober masterlist

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“You’re so fucking small,” Alastor groaned.

It wasn’t a new observation, by any means. In fact, it was one of the first that Alastor made mention of when he and Lucifer met all those months ago.

You are much shorter in real life!

Typically, a comment on Lucifer’s stature was just an impudent barb to throw at the King. A sure-fire way of pissing him off whenever Alastor felt like seeing that smug look on Lucifer’s face wiped clear off. Replacing it with one he found much more attractive: anger.

Lucifer didn’t always take the bait though, so Alastor had learned to measure the usage of this weapon. There were still plenty of other ways to achieve the same result. Knocking Lucifer’s hat off his blonde bouffant the other morning had been particularly enjoyable. He really did look so much better without that garish thing he dared to call a fashion choice. 

But right now it wasn’t an insult.

Alastor was slightly propped up on some pillows, admiring the pretty King of Hell whine from his words as he bounced on his cock. It was a sentiment Alastor had felt many times, lost in the awe inspiring sight that was Lucifer in the throes of passion. That golden glow radiating from under his skin like a divine beacon he couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. Pillowy wings extended on either side of them, and Alastor loved the way they tickled his thighs with their light touch.

In these moments, Lucifer seemed almost fragile. 

His lean, petite frame was easily held in Alastor’s hands. He had them on that delectable waist now, the tips of his fingers laced behind Lucifer’s back. Alastor wasn’t directing the angel’s pace, instead he was relishing the feeling of Lucifer under his touch. Soft alabaster skin, strong muscles flexing underneath; dew drops of sweat that Lucifer benevolently created to bead from pores that didn’t previously exist, solely because Alastor had complained over it once. How unfair it was for him to be the only one dripping with effort, and worse still, losing out on a facet of Lucifer that only he was allowed to indulge in. 

What a marvel it had been when Alastor felt the slick perspiration the next time they copulated. How the sweet and acrid scent of it filled his nostrils and made his mouth salivate. Somehow managing to taste even better than it smelled when he ran his tongue up the length of Lucifer’s body. Needing only to straighten the arch of his back to elongate himself and complete the path from belly to neck, finishing off with a flourish of his tongue along Lucifer’s throat and the underside of his chin. 

Alastor’s head fell backward, his jaw hanging open to let out an unrestrained moan just remembering it. He really was so spoiled.

“You feel like glass under my fingers,” Alastor panted, tightening his grip on Lucifer as if he meant to test the theory. His ears and cock twitched as Lucifer cursed wantonly, sinking down to grind himself against Alastor’s pelvis. Lucifer’s walls fluttered, managing against all odds to squeeze him even tighter. “Fuck, you take me so well for such a tiny thing…”

The words were husky in this throat, thick with lust and static. Part of him couldn’t believe his raw honesty nor how the words seemed to pour so easily from his mouth. Moaning again as Lucifer cried out his name, droplets of arousal falling onto Alastor’s stomach; his muscles tensing in reaction to the heat and weight of them. 

“I want to see you fall apart…want you to use me until you cum,” he continued, hissing as Lucifer’s hands left his chest to clasp over his own the best they could. His pace invigorated by Alastor’s words.

How delicate those hands were. Dark and graceful, with long slender fingers that could tear him to shreds if he so wished. Alastor felt, as well as heard, his antlers creak; branching out as the image of Lucifer’s pristine, radiant skin covered in his blood and viscera flashed in his mind. Mercifully, he managed not to climax, silently chastising himself for almost finishing first over a fantasy after his admission of wanting to be used. 

“Fuck baby, what’s gotten into you?” Lucifer’s voice was whiny and just above a whisper, but he was glowing with pride. Rolling his hips and clenching around Alastor’s cock with a familiar determination. “Can’t wait to cum on your cock. Gonna milk you fucking dry…”

Alastor groaned and bit his lip, the sharp taste of copper on his tongue as his climax inched closer and closer. Normally he wasn’t this affected when Lucifer spoke this way, the vulgarity of it making him feel more embarrassed than inspired. But this is precisely what he wanted now. To be used by his love as nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure. It was within his power, as all things were.

Lucifer’s hands tightened over his own, which still encompassed that slight waist. His movements were becoming stuttered but Alastor refused to guide, writhing in the blissful agony of anticipation. His resolve was put to the final test as Lucifer took one of Alastor’s hands and brought it to his member, his own hand remaining on top as Alastor began to stroke with an even tempo. Squeezing the tip a little harder in his palm in the way he knew Lucifer enjoyed before moving back down.

The room was filled with nothing but the blended sounds of their affection, until finally Lucifer screamed, wings fluttering as he slammed down onto Alastor’s hips as his orgasm peaked. Alastor didn’t even notice the hot release in his hand, his eyes drinking in the vision before him. Disheveled, sweaty blonde hair framing Lucifer’s ethereal face. Mouth open to reveal sharp teeth and a forked tongue between gasps for breath and the velvet sound of his voice. The vice grip of his walls shuddered around Alastor’s length as he quickly followed suit, spilling into Lucifer’s heat with a relieved cry. Both of their chests heaving to catch their breath as their bodies twitched and jerked from sensitivity and delight.

Slowly, Alastor lifted Lucifer off him, both of them groaning a little from the loss. Lucifer waved his hand absently to whisk away their mess as he climbed down from his seat in Alastor’s lap, taking refuge on his tufted chest while Alastor’s fingers gently carded through his plumes. Their body heat mingled as their breaths evened out and synced, and Alastor couldn’t help the hum of contentment that vibrated through his chest, earning a sleepy chuckle from Lucifer.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lucifer concurred, burrowing himself further in Alastor’s embrace. 

Alastor stifled a laugh as he felt Lucifer’s tail eagerly wrap itself around his left thigh, the tickle catching him off-guard but the feeling of security more than wanted. He kept up the grooming of Lucifer’s wings as a comfortable silence settled over them, quickly punctuated by the deep, even sound of Lucifer’s breathing.

If Alastor enjoyed sleep as much as Lucifer did, he would be jealous of the angel’s ability to fall under in what seemed like mere seconds. Instead, he gazed down at the relaxed, statuesque face on his chest, his immortal heart swelling just underneath it. Beating as both a lullaby and a vow of his ardent devotion. 

His whole world encapsulated in this small, resilient, all-powerful form that he was lucky enough to provide sanctuary for.

“Pleasant dreams, mon ange. I shall be here when you wake.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

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[heesdreamer]

omg the mention of camping in your new heejake fic has me thinking of scenarios in a TENT why am i blushing gn

LOST TIME

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader (ex beomgyu x reader mentioned)

SUMMARY ➩ you and your bestfriends, growing up together since you were babies, had a tradition of going camping together every summer. this year you get paired up to share a tent with the boy you’ve been in love with since elementary.

WC ➩ 7.7k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ honestly this was meant to just be a straight up PWP work due to the request but i got way too into the friendship dynamics and backstory lol.. idk if any other writers relate but sometimes smut just doesn’t feel like it fits in stories but i hope you still like this and maybe ill write something more nsfw later on with this prompt (not proofread and written at like 6am like always lol)

It wasn’t like camping was something you absolutely hated. In fact, for the first 20 years of your life it had been the single thing you looked forward to most throughout the busy year.

At some point it had developed into a promised tradition, an accidental hobby that you and your friend’s coincidentally carried on all throughout your shared childhood and high school.

Your parents had all grown up together too and lived on the same street once they were old enough to start their own families, keeping their tight knit connections and extending it to their partners and children later on in life. You grew up with a community because of this, your neighbors being people you’d spent your entire life around as they were basically family now.

It wasn’t a surprise to any of your parents and their friends families when they all also had kids around the same time, the biggest gap between babies being just over 4 years.

This was how your best friends came to be, as smooth and naturally as gaining a sibling or meeting a soulmate. You grew up surrounded with the same kids, going to the same school and spending holidays together at one of the houses on the shared culdesac.

The camping tradition was started before you even could register what was happening, photos of your parents lined up in bathing suits, holding different sized babies down near the lake shore with bright smiles and sunburns were your only proof that you’d been there as long as you have. As you got older and could enjoy the activities more, it became your favorite thing to do.

Your parents all got older right alongside you and they eventually stopped coming with, knowing you and the other kids would have fun out there while also being safe and smart.

So you continued on like that, all pitching up tents for the weekend and spending your time relaxing on tubes in the river or talking around the campfire, letting off the stress the year had brought you as you finished up high school and entered different colleges.

So it was slightly out of character that you were groaning as you packed your suitcase, complaining to Sunoo on the other side of the phone as he carried out the same action a few houses down.

“It’s just terrible timing.” Your voice was louder than normal as you disappeared into your closet in search of something warm for the colder temperatures at night. “Beomgyu and I are barely even broken up and I’m so behind on class work I could die.”

“Well you know it’s the same time every year Y/N, it’s not like it was sprung on you. Plus Beomgyu broke up with you last fall. I’d say you’re officially over by now.” Sunoo’s voice was barely audible from back in your bedroom but you still sighed and leaned your head onto your dressed with a thud.

He was always brutally honest with you considering he’d known you since you were infants, being the two closest in age out of the rest of you. When you first started school most of the teachers had assumed you were twins, wearing matching clothes and stuck at the hip everywhere you went.

You’d ditched The Shining like fashion now that you were adults but you still were the closest to him out of everybody, having applied to the same college together.

“Plus we haven’t seen the others since the holidays. This is the longest we’ve been apart, aren’t you excited?” His voice was picking up a hopeful tone as he tried to cheer you up and change your mood around.

You sighed softly again and walked back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone from the bed and holding it to your ear so you could hear him better. Leaning forward to look out your window across the small chunk of yard that separated you from your neighbor, you could see him sitting in his chair with a big smile on his face.

“You’ll be sick of them in an hour.” You remarked and knocked on the window, his head picking up to look over at you.

“I’m always sick of them.” He was rolling his eyes and you watched his mouth move in silence as the phone audio lagged behind a few seconds. “That’s the best part.”

You smiled at that and nodded although he wasn’t looking at you anymore, turning back to his bag. You did miss your other friends, almost an impossible amount.

You spent a lot of nights in your dorm room thinking about them and how horrible it was to be apart, replaying the goodbyes you all gave each other at the airport over and over in your mind as you tried to remain hopeful for the next time you could reunite. Nothing could prepare you for how difficult it was to separate for them, your parents all watching you with sad smiles in the background as you cried and hugged each other.

Coming home for Christmas felt like you’d gained a piece of your heart back, spending the entire break inseparable and having more fun than you possibly could with the more casual friends you’d met in school.

Your parents hadn’t nagged you for not being home a lot or felt sad that you all rather be together than with them for Christmas Eve and morning, understanding more than anybody else what it felt like to have such friendships.

“Aren’t you excited to see Heeseung?” Sunoo’s voice cut into your happy daydreams and the smile fell from your face at his teasing tone, stiffening slightly as he glanced at you from his room again, an eyebrow raised in amusement at your reaction.

“I’m excited to see everybody.” You said stiffly and he let out a small laugh at your sudden serious tone, knowing you had caught on to what he was implying. “Sunoo, don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not.” He gasped like it was an offensive thing to suggest, standing and approaching the window so you could see him better as he continued to tease you. “I just think it might be interesting considering this is the first time you’ve seen your childhood lover since being single again.”

“Do not call him that.” You were groaning and flopping back on your bed to which he let out another amused laugh.

You loved all of your friends equally, each one of them bringing a different set of pros to your life and helping to shape your personality as you grew up and molded into the person you were now. They were your family, brothers you never had and they felt the same way about you, resulting in no one ever dating within the group or causing awkward moments that could potentially upset the harmonious balance.

Lee Heeseung was the exception.

Despite Sunoo’s ridiculous phrasing he had never been your lover, not even remotely coming close to it. In fact things were almost more platonic with him than anybody else, never hugging you for too long or jokingly flirting to try and get on your nerves.

You weren’t exactly sure what it was about Heeseung that you liked so much. You’d seen him grow up the same as the other boys and while their changes annoyed you, scrunching your nose at classic boyish humor or lack of hygiene as they all shot up in height and their voices started cracking, Heeseung was the most beautiful person you’d ever met in your entire life.

He’d been born first out of all the babies but he never took advantage of being the eldest, always kind and generous as he drove everybody around and asked for group opinions instead of just doing whatever he wanted out of seniority.

He was funny in a way you didn’t know boys could be funny, not even meaning to make you laugh sometimes and just coincidentally being a beacon of light and humor that left all of you bending over trying to catch your breath at the dinner table. You liked this about him but you liked the small proud smile he’d have after everytime even more.

It certainly didn’t help that he was handsome in an unreal way. He had seemingly barely dipped a toe in the awkward phase you all went through before he was shooting up in height and his features were sharpening, solidifying into somebody who could’ve been intimidating if he wasn’t always smiling and goofing around.

But Heeseung was never your lover and he never would be considering your crush for him, that you had mistakenly spilled to Sunoo at some point during your senior year of high school, was completely dead and gone as far as you were concerned.

You’d even gotten a boyfriend to prove this to yourself, meeting a sophomore on your first day of college and immediately being taken by his style and humor. He reminded you of your friends back home as much as somebody could manage and he helped you adjust to being away from everyone outside of Sunoo. You’d even brought him back home with you last thanksgiving, letting him meet your friends before he abruptly dumped you on your drive back to the airport.

When you’d gotten out of the car with swollen eyes and red cheeks, your friends who had been waiting in the lobby to say the round of goodbyes had immediately crowded around you in worry.

Heeseung was standing back a bit and you tried not to make eye contact with him, humiliated as you murmured to them that Beomgyu had just broken up with you only a few minutes ago.

Jay was furious and attempting to go and confront the boy who was checking your bags in with security but Jungwon was quickly reminding him that you had to spend the next 4 hours sat right beside him on the cramped plane and they didn’t need to make the silence anymore uncomfortable than it already was going to be.

“I can drive you back.” Heeseung’s soft voice was coming from behind the bickering pair and you glanced up at him with wide teary eyes, not liking the pitiful gaze he was peering down at you with.

You felt sick at his suggestion as your heart skipped a few beats, the harsh reminder of how kind and generous he was immediately followed by the realization that no matter how hard your tried or how long of a relationship you had, he’d still make your stomach light up with butterflies. You turned down his offer and said your goodbyes with more tears than usual, promising to see them soon.

Heeseung hadn’t come to Christmas for the first time in your lives and as much fun as you had seeing each other again, the balance was always off whenever one of you weren’t present. He’d claimed he was busy with work and that he’d tried to get time off but he simply couldn’t, a message in the group chat about how he couldn’t wait to go camping being the last time you’d heard from him.

By the time Sunoo spoke again you could see him throwing his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling his suitcase out the door. “This could be the year you know. You should make a move.”

“Don’t be stupid.” You shook your head although he couldn’t see you anymore. “There is no move to be made, we’re bestfriends.”

“That’s because you- Hi Mrs L/N.” You could hear your front door open both through the phone speaker and your own ears. “Are too pussy to do anything about it.”

He whispered the last part so your mom wouldn’t hear and you laughed at the way he stopped mid insult to greet her with an affectionate tone. You hung up the phone and laid flat on your back as you waited for him to climb the stairs to your room.

He was pushing the door open only seconds later and he paused in the doorway when he saw you pathetically sprawled out in your own self pity, sighing softly before climbing on the bed besides your head and petting your hair gently as he kissed his teeth.

“Poor thing. In love with the village idiot.” He was shaking his head and you shoved his hand off of you as he let out a laugh, shielding himself from your attacks. You were sitting up to push him again when three long honks were ringing from outside, catching both of your attention.

You were off the bed and grabbing your bags before you could say another word, a childlike excitement washing over you as you giddily ran down the stairs and gave your mom a rushed kiss goodbye as she complained about the fact Jay had honked and didn’t come in to say hello.

By the time you got outside the other boys were already out of the car, meeting you halfway in laughed filled hugs and you and Sunoo ran to embrace them.

“Oh my god, when did you get so tall?” You were pulling away from Riki in exclamation as you held his arms and shook his frame slightly, scanning him all the way up to his face that was now having to look down at you. “What are they feeding you over there?”

“Straight protein.” Jake was answering before the youngest could, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and he also admired Riki’s growth spurt, although slightly envious considering he hadn’t grown much since high school.

“Protein won’t make you grow idiot.” Sunghoon was leaning against the van with a judging expression as he looked at his friend and roommate, him and Jake going to the same school about an hour away.

You’d stayed in pairs or groups for the most part since moving out. Sunoo and you, Jake and Sunghoon and then Jay, Jungwon and Riki had all moved in together at the best school in the state neighboring yours.

Heeseung was the only one who hadn’t applied alongside any of you despite the belief you all were going to try and stay together as much as possible while still supporting your individual dreams and wants. He had applied to all the same schools as you all did, getting accepted into every single one. Yet when it came down to choosing, he moved the furthest away on his own.

When he had sat you all down in Jungwon’s basement to announce this you remember feeling betrayed. Hurt at him leaving and even more upset that he hadn’t picked the school you were attending considering that was the option he seemed to be leaning towards according to what he told you

You can recall the others cheering in celebration at the fact he’d gotten into an extremely good college despite the sadness that settled in on everyone’s faces when they realized what that meant. You caught his eye at some point during that exchange and he flinched away, not wanting to look at you the same way you did to him at the airport.

Not similarly to the way he was looking at you now, rounding the front of the van as he got out of the passenger seat and made his way to where you were all gathered.

You tensed up for a moment when you first saw him and Riki noticed, following your gaze over his shoulder as he turned around and smiled once he saw what you were looking at, walking over to Heeseung and dragging him towards you with a pat on the back.

“Hey.” He was breathing out as he looked down at you and you took a second to take in his appearance.

It hadn’t been that long since you’d seen him but somehow he looked different, or maybe he just felt different considering how much broader his shoulders were and how much more sure of himself he seemed. You weren’t exactly sure what it was about him that was striking you as new but you were momentarily stunned as you took him in.

Sunoo was nudging you with him elbow suddenly and you realized you’d been completely zoned out checking Heeseung out as you ignored his greeting. “Hi Hee.”

He smiled down at you softly but didn’t say anything else, just standing there for a second before Jay was smacking the hood of the old van and announcing you had to hit the road or else you’d miss the site check in time. You gave him a quick glance before moving to carry your bags into the trunk, stopping when big hands were overlapping yours on the handle.

“Let me do it.” You looked up from under your eyelashes to see Heeseung bending over slightly as he gathered your stuff for you.

You were too stunned to say anything and he smiled again, fuller this time as he turned with your stuff and started to load it up. Sunoo was chuckling from beside you and you whipped your head to the side to shoot him a glare, a silent warning for him to be quiet and not draw attention to the blush on your face or the fact your stomach was lighting up with the same familiar feeling it always did whenever you were around the oldest boy.

The ride was uneventful for the most part, three hours passing as the boys in front of you caught up and told childish jokes, at one point having a competition to see who could catch the most goldfish in their mouth before they were gagging.

Heeseung hadn’t joined in with them from his seat in front of you but you could see his cheeks rising with a smile every time Sunoo squeaked out a laugh or Riki started to tease Jay who was driving. You and Sunghoon were in the back, playing games on his phone as you passed it back and forth and tried to ignore the eyes you could feel looking back at you every once in a while.

You were all just starting to reach your boredom limit and the car was filling with groans of pain as you stretched your legs out onto others and complained about your back pain, when you finally were pulling up to the familiar area.

As you shuffled out of the van, you took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut. It was rare to find this type of visual anywhere you were used to, the large trees surrounding the clear lake with small mountains out in the distance.

The air felt clear and light in your lungs and the temperature was perfect, just hot enough that you could go swimming still but also bundle into a sweater to avoid getting an overwhelming amount of bug bites.

You helped unload the trunk with the others, setting up the grills and coolers in a small area a few feet away from the main camp site. It was empty now, a small lot of perfectly mowed grass but you’d seen the process enough times to know with only a little bit of work, it could turn into a comfortable home for you to spend the weekend. Jake helped you moved some of the heavier stuff, giggling when he almost tripped over a branch walking backwards.

“Here comes the worst part.” He was leaning over to whisper to you as you walked back to camp.

Jay was sitting on the picnic table the campsite offered to people who stayed multiple nights, the hat he had been wearing in his hands as Sunoo ripped up little pieces of paper next to him.

Jake was right in the sense that this was the most meticulous part of the weekend but you never completely minded it. Your names would all be written on a piece of paper and put into the hat, then you’d draw two at a time and be given your tent roommate for the trip. Sunghoon and Jake often got paired and he’s complain the entire time, citing him as a blanket hog.

For 90% of the years you’d done this tradition you’d gotten Sunoo, eventually you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was the one who always got to call out the names being pulled.

Nobody ever called him out for it despite the way they’d roll their eyes as he put on a show of surprise, gasping and covering his mouth in shock and you laughed and cheered him on. So you weren’t thinking too much about the mischievous look on his face, figuring he was just planning out how his performance was going to go this time around.

“Okay first up to bat.” Jay was calling out in a serious tone, shuffling the slips around now that they were all accounted for.

“Jake.” Sunoo was announcing as he pulled the first one out, unfolding it and showcasing it slowly to your eager eyes. Jake nudged your side with an excited look on his face, crossing his fingers and squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation. “And…. Sunghoon!”

“Oh no fucking way.” The boy next to you was groaning loudly as he dropped to his knees dramatically, holding his head and trying to block out the sounds of Sunghoon laughing and cheering as he mocked him.

You laughed with him, looking at Sunoo who winked at you and bunched the papers up in his hands. You bent down to wrap your arms under Jake’s arms, tugging him back up to a standing position as he dramatically leaned against you.

Sunghoon was excitedly skipping over to the two of you, face lit up with pleasure at the sound of his friends complaints. He helped you hold up Jake who had gone completely limp as he feigned death. “Hurry up, he’s heavy.”

“Alright next up is…” Sunoo paused dramatically like he was waiting for a drum roll, sighing and muttering how you guys weren’t any fun when nobody humored him. “Jungwon and Sunoo.”

Jungwon let out a cheer and a swift clap, although not moving from where he was lounging in a camping chair beside the picnic table. Sunoo gave you another look, the same mischievous grin on his face that he had before, although now it made your blood run cold as you quickly realized what he was attempting to do.

“Riki and Jay.” You were proven right as the third pair was announced and you stiffened up completely in shock and betrayal, not even paying attention to the two boys and they agreed they were going to get the best and biggest tent since Riki was the tallest.

“Looks like it’s me and you.” To make your situation worse, Heeseung’s low voice was suddenly hitting your ear and you turned to glance at him.

He looked slightly awkward, not nearly as awkward as you were feeling, and you felt a wave a guilt at the fact he had most likely saw your upset reaction. You hoped he just figured it was because you liked to be close with Sunoo, although right now you were considering drowning him in the lake, and didn’t think it had anything to do with him.

“Looks like it.” You gave him a tensed smile knowing it absolutely everything to do with him.

——

The day was so fun you were almost able to forget your unfortunate sleeping situation. Everybody had gone down to the lake the second the tents were properly set up and secured into the ground, greeting familiar campers who lived on site full time during the summers and splashing each other aggressively until somebody was screaming and blowing water out of their nose.

It exhausted you fast and you were back at the camp only a few hours later so you could conserve your energy, watching Jay and thanking him as he grilled enough meat for all of you to eat multiple servings.

Now the sun had set and your first night was coming to an end in the most peaceful way possible, listening to your best friends have low voiced talks around a crackling campfire. You weren’t saying much but you liked to hear them tell stories about their months apart from you and drink in their voices that you had missed so dearly.

“Shit just changes in college.” Riki was mumbling and you watched him with tired eyes, nodding your head as he spoke about how he’s felt slightly out of place now that he was away from home.

“That’s because everybody is either having sex or trying to.” Jake was remarking from beside you and you turned to glare at him.

He was playing with the dangling netted cup holder of your foldable chair and you slapped his hand away at his statement, causing him to chuckle and nudge you with his foot as he shrugged. “Hey, it’s true.”

“Not for everybody.” Sunghoon was shaking his head and giving him the same grossed out look you were. He was sat across from you and he glanced at you from behind the fire with a nod of agreement. “Some of us have better stuff to do than go to parties every weekend and dick off.”

Jake was scoffing in disbelief and you watched Sunghoon shoot him a pointed look like he was telling him to keep quiet, your mouth dropping into a surprised laugh at the fact he had tried to lie and pretend to agree with you.

“Don’t let her fool you, she complains about her virginity every other day.” Sunoo was casually saying as he took a sip of his drink, his head tilting back to finish it and missing the reaction from the group.

It had fallen completely silent and you stiffened up awkwardly in your chair, a wave of embarrassment washing over you at your friends blunt phrasing. He had always been known to tell the truth about anything and everything but he seemed to realize this was too far, even for him, putting his cup down slowly and offering you an apologetic grimace.

“What?” Jake was sitting up in his chair and turning to fully face you, leaning forward and tugging on your sleeve with an urgent look on his face. “You’ve never had sex?”

“Dude you were with Beomgyu for like 3 years.” Jungwon was muttering from a few spots over and you glared in his direction at the mention of your ex boyfriend.

“Eight months.” The voice from the other seat beside you was speaking for the first time in a while and you turned your gaze slowly to see Heeseung stiff in his chair, staring into the fire as he played with his empty cup absentmindedly. You wondered if he even realized he had said something, let alone suddenly announced the exact amount of time you’d been in a relationship.

“Regardless dude, weren’t you guys like super serious?” Riki was adding on and you looked over to him, happy no one else had realized how weird what Heeseung had said was.

Despite how open you all were with each other, it was rare the conversation about sex lives ever extended over to you. As much as you didn’t really mind the idea of talking to them about your experiences, or lack there of, you also weren’t totally oppose to them never asking and you never telling.

You would’ve laughed at the fact they all looked personally offended you hadn’t gotten laid, maybe even joined in on the banter, if it wasn’t for the boy next to you and how embarrassing it was for him to be hearing it all. As much as you wished you thought of Heeseung the same as the other boys, you didn’t and this proved it.

“It’s not a big deal guys… he never tried or anything. I didn’t think much about it.” You were flushed bright red, thankfully hidden underneath the dark night, and shaking your head as you tried to feign casualness.

“Not a big deal?” Jake was laughing in disbelief and leaning forward more so you’d fully understand the sincerity in his words. “He was with YOU for almost a year and never made a move? He’s crazy.”

You were turning to glare at him at his wording and he leaned back a few inches, keeping a hand on your chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You groaned as you realized this wasn’t something they were going to just let go and move on from, being presented with the most interesting conversation point of the night.

“You’re hot.” He said it like it was something obvious and clear and you faltered in shock, mouth parting and you leaned forward to smack him on the shoulder. He winced and flinched away from you with an upset whine. “I’m just saying dude! We all think it.”

You turned away from him to scan the rest of the circle with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, watching the other boys awkwardly avoid your gaze or just outwardly nod their heads in agreement with Jake. (Sunghoon and Jay.)

You weren’t stupid and you knew the boys were attractive, each of them fit and handsome constantly drawing attention all throughout high school, subjecting you to glares from girls in the hallways and boys trying to befriend you in an attempt to get closer to them.

Still, you’d never considered the fact that they thought about you in a similar way. You never thought too deeply into your own appearance at all, both positively and negatively but you figured the idea would never cross their minds considering they strictly treated you as a close friend or even a sibling at times, minus Jake and his meaningless flirting.

For some reason your gaze fell to Heeseung, who was still completely stiff beside you. He hadn’t been looking at you before but now he was and you faltered slightly at the hard expression on his face, eyes low with something you couldn’t make out in the dark.

“Shut up Jake, don’t be so stupid.” You were turning away from him quickly as you muttered the words and they dropped it quickly the second they realized you were actually uncomfortable and not just messing around.

The conversation moved on for now but you imagined they’d bring it back up at some point during the weekend. You felt a bit better now that the attention was mostly off of you, Jake’s hand resting on your arm as he played with your sleeve softly. You figured he must be feeling guilty for making such a big deal out of it so you ignored him, happily accepting the invitation to go to bed when Jungwon was standing with a yawn.

The awkwardness of that conversation had made you complete forgot about your sleeping situation but you were reminded quickly as the other boys stood to also head to bed, Heeseung standing slowly and hovering near you.

He followed behind you closely as you ducked into the tent but neither of you spoke as you zipped it up, sitting down on the sleeping back to shuffle through your bag as you searched for your pajamas.

You felt bad it was so awkward between the two of you. You’d always felt more cautious around him considering your past crush but you never let it show, not wanting him to think you liked him less than the others or worse, realize the truth was the direct opposite. Still there was something clearly different in their air now and it was suffocating you a bit as you waited for him to joke around or say something stupid to break the tension.

“Are you into Jake?” When he finally spoke it threw you off completely, not expecting him to say something like in such a hardened tone.

You froze in your movements inside your bag, looking up at him in confusion. “What?”

He was halfway sat leaning against a few pillows, watching you from the other side of the tent with that same unreadable expression he had by the fire. He didn’t clarify what he said, knowing you had heard him and you watched him for a few seconds in silent bewilderment.

“Why would you ask me that?” You mumbled, shaking your head and looking down at your disorganized clothes pile again. It slightly agitated you that he hadn’t spoken to you for most of the day and yet that was the first question from his mouth.

“Just wondering.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a completely taboo topic to be questioning you about but his face was anything but casual. “Are you into any of them? Would you hook up with one of us?”

“How can you ask me that? Would you ask one of the boys that or is it because I’m the only girl?” You glared at him as you spoke.

“I’d ask them if I cared.” He stated and you scoffed, not fully understanding what he was attempting to imply in his statement.

He wasn’t acting like himself and you felt a bit worried that maybe you had done something to upset him or weirded him out with your awkward demeanor. You didn’t bother to reply again, grabbing your toothbrush with the pajamas you’d chosen and leaving the tent swiftly through the zippered door.

You were speed walking down towards the public bathrooms and showers on the other side of the camp site, flustered from his random interrogation and replaying the day to decide if you’d done anything that could make him think that.

Jake was touchy with everybody, especially you at times since you objected the least but he always had been and it definitely wasn’t a new and shocking thing for him to be touching your arm or hugging onto your side. You contemplated it potentially being due to his comment about you being hot but considering the context in which he said it, you didn’t think that was the reason.

A hand around your arm was snapping you from your thoughts and you let out a small yelp, spinning around to see Heeseung who was panting slightly.

His eyes were wide a bit like he was worried and you saw a flash of guilt pass through then when he saw your flushed face. He squeezed your arm for a second before letting it go and you gave him a questioning stare at the fact he had seemingly rushed out of the tent to follow you into the darkness.

“Let me walk you there.” He blurred out and gestured to the fact he was also holding his pajamas and night hygiene products. “It’s dark, you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You scoffed slightly at his concern, both of you knowing you weren’t in any danger at the campsite and it was barely a ten minute walk through a lit trail, but nonetheless you nodded at him and continued walking with him now at your side. He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, parting ways silently once you got to the building and he went to the male side.

You took a second to breathe once inside, leaning your elbows on the counter and looking at yourself in the mirror underneath the yellow flickering lights. You brushed your teeth quickly and changed into a comfortable sweater and shorts, wandering back outside to see Heeseung already there and leaning against the wall.

He watched as you walked past him silently, lingering for a second before jogging to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry.” He was muttering and you looked at him for a second before focusing back in front of you so you didn’t trip over the bumpy terrain. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

You shrugged softly and you felt his arm bump into yours as you walked side by side, approaching the tent in silence. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore, certainly not wanting to hear the reason he thought you’d be hooking up with Jake of all people.

When you finally were back inside and putting your toothbrush away you tried to ignore the fact he was climbing onto the large sleeping bag waiting for you to join inside it before he could zip it up completely. Your heart was pounding thinking about sleeping next to him and you suddenly felt overly hot despite the cold chill of the night.

You’d slept next to Heeseung before, all accustomed to sharing beds or living room floors during sleepovers, sometimes even all smushing together inside Jungwon’s van when you had a particularly long late night adventure. Yet it felt extremely intimate to be alone together and zipped up inside a sleeping bag.

Still you had no other option and the cold was starting to get to you considering your pajama shorts, so you scooted over onto the staticky fabric and held your breath as he leaned over you to seal it.

He laid back onto his back and you fell into more silence, not quite touching but you could feel his shoulder only a few inches from yours, rising and falling as he took deep breaths. He was shifting a bit to try and get comfortable and directly bumped into you, freezing at the contact but not making any move to scoot further away.

“I really am sorry for asking you that.” He was suddenly speaking but his voice was so quiet you barely heard him at first, a tired rasp lacing his words.

“It’s fine Hee. Not a big deal.” You whispered back, the air feeling strangely delicate. His hand was touching your wrist randomly but you assumed it was an accident, sparing him a glance at his touch and finding him staring at the roof of the tent.

“Pissed me off when he said that.” His voice was still low but it was hardening again like it had earlier and you winced slightly, confused at his mood changes. Heeseung was never the type to get angry and definitely not somebody who would voice it so openly like this. “Is that weird to say?”

“I’m not sure I get what you mean.” You were bending your legs so your feet were flat against the tent floor and your knees were pointed upwards, feeling strangely vulnerable at the conversation topic.

His hand that was barely grazing your wrist was moving now and you stiffened when he completely grasped it, sliding slowly down your arm until he could feel your palm under his finger tips. You sucked in a breath at his strange actions, never really directly touching him before despite how close you all were to each other.

“I don’t think I know what I mean either.” He was letting out a small self deprecating laugh but he squeezed your hand now that they were intertwined. “I just know whenever he touches you it makes me feel crazy.”

Your heart felt heavy at his sudden confession and you were slightly dizzy as you were trying to process what he was saying and what it meant if he was implying what you thought he might be. It seemed like he was trying to tell you that he was jealous of Jake, jealous of him for touching you earlier and for the way he playfully flirted.

“Jake’s harmless.” You whispered back and you’re not sure why that’s what you chose to address instead of asking him why on earth that would upset him.

“I know.” He said it like he was frustrated, like you were missing the point he was trying to make. “It’s not about that, I don’t know forget it.”

He was unraveling his hand from yours but you instinctively caught him in the middle of his arm, panicked at the thought of him pulling away now that you’ve finally made some progress towards… something you still weren’t fully understanding. But you’d never even toed the line with Heeseung before and you weren’t going to take it for granted.

He was finally glancing at you now that you were practically hugging his arm and his face wasn’t hard anymore, instead having a nervous unsure look that you hadn’t really seen on him before.

“Help me understand.” You loosened your grip on his arm but kept it held against you, breathing heavier as you looked at each other.

He watched you for a while but didn’t say anything just yet, you tried not to flinch when he rolled over on his side so he could face you better and it seemed to work considering his free hand was coming up to push some of your hair behind your ear, resting on your cheek for a second before going back to his side like he hadn’t meant to do it.

“Why did you never have sex with Beomgyu?” He was whispering again and his words sounded particularly vulgar although he sounded like he was genuinely curious.

You didn’t answer for a while because you honestly didn’t have one that wouldn’t make you sound like you were desperate and insane. You could halfway lie and tell him it just didn’t feel right but you had a feeling he would be able to see right through you like he always could.

“It didn’t work right?” He started speaking again before you could and you were turning on your side too so you could look at him in confusion, still holding his arm that was resting in the middle of you. When he saw your confused look he explained further. “Using him to get over me, it didn’t work.”

You froze and your mouth fell open, almost worried you were going to cry considering how embarrassed you felt that he had apparently known your biggest secret this entire time. A sick feeling washed over you and he seemed to notice because he shifted closer to you slightly with a worried expression.

You thought back to how Heeseung had acted on the trip you’d brought your ex boyfriend to. He was more distant than usual but you figured he was just busy and stressed since he had been working so hard, this being confirmed when he couldn’t get time off to attend Christmas.

Now a large part of you was wondering if it was something else, if he had lied so he didn’t have to face you after your breakup. If Jake, somebody he knew and trusted, flirting with you had bothered him tonight then there was no way he hadn’t been even slightly upset considering you and Beomgyu were openly affectionate the entire break.

You tried to not blame yourself for the fact he had missed out on movie night that week, citing he wasn’t feeling well and barely sparing a glance to the two of you curled up together under a blanket on the couch. Remembering how he stared at you over dinner when you were introducing the boy with a bright smile on your face, avoiding his heavy gaze all night because it made your heart feel guilty.

It also made you feel incredibly stupid. Not only did he seem to know you were in love with him but he also determined your entire reasoning for rushing into a relationship.

“You knew?” Your hurt was shown clearly in your tone and his eyes saddened a little.

“Of course I knew, I thought we both did.” He shook his head a little like he was finding himself stupid. “Imagine my surprise when you come home with a boyfriend.”

“You left.” You spat out to him, squeezing his arm at the reminder he had willingly moved farther away from you than anybody else. Despite the fact you’d spent multiple nights together talking about the colleges you’d choose and he assured you he wouldn’t go far if he didn’t pick the one you were set on.

“I had to.” He sounded pained and stressed out like it had been weighing on him and your heart clenched considering you knew exactly how he felt.

As frustrated as you were at the situation you imagined it would’ve been hard for him too, having feelings for you the same way you did but never being sure. You definitely did your best to hide it to keep your friendship steady since it was your priority and you tried to think about how hurt you would be if he suddenly brought a girlfriend to your holidays, stomach turning at the thought.

“I am over you.” You said it forcefully as you tried to salvage any bit of friendship that was left but neither of you believed the words you were saying, his eyebrow raising as he watched you with a curious expression.

“Yeah?” He was mumbling and you squeezed his arm instinctively at his deepened tone and the way his voice quirked up in a question. You nodded your head and hummed softly in agreement, standing behind your claim.

He was shifting closer again and your nose bumped against his, causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

You tried not to think about the fact this was the closest you’d ever been to him, tried not to think about how he basically just confessed to you and taken almost two decades worth of weight off your shoulders. You especially tried not to think about the fact his eyes were flicking down to your lips every few seconds.

You didn’t think about anything at all when he was finally kissing you, closing your eyes immediately and leaning into each other like this was something you did often. Despite how constant you’d thought about what it would be like to kiss him one day, you were still surprised by how natural it felt.

It didn’t make you nervous to lean into him, not even when he let out a small huffy groan when he rolled onto his back so you could be laying halfway on top of him.

Something about kissing Heeseung came naturally to you and he seemed to be thinking similarly considering the way he let out a small relieved sigh when you pulled away to breathe, big hands coming up to tangle in your hair and hold your face still above his as he studied your swollen lips and dazed expression.

He gave you a soft smile and your lips quirked up at the sight of it, feeling content and happy despite your stomach lighting up with those familiar butterflies, leaning back down to kiss him again before you wasted any more time.

[itsokbbygrl]

Old Dogs and New Tricks

Summary: Sarah Miller has always loved her dad, maybe especially today. Years of long days at work and longer nights taking classes and studying have lead to this--his college graduation day. When the Miller family is interrupted during their impromptu picture time, Sarah thinks there might be one more person who could love her dad, too.

Word Count: 3k, one-shot

Rating: T (some swearing)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC

Tags: FLUFF, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, BRUSH YOUR TEETH AND FLOSS AFTER THIS ONE!!!, mild swearing, Sarah Miller POV, briefly Joel Miller POV, likely some University of Texas at Austin graduation inaccuracies, adult learner gets his diploma yay, Uncle Tommy is an A+ wingman, almost zero description of reader aside from having hair long enough to tuck behind an ear, wearing a dress, and having a shimmering laugh, but Joel and Sarah both refer to reader as a woman and use she/her pronouns, no y/n, no 2nd person perspective, reader/OFC has an unspecified family outside of 1 sister

A/N: Helloooooooooo this is the first thing I've ever published here holy shiiiiiiit. I was scrolling on Pinterest for interior design inspo and came across this adorable photo and immediately went, "omg Joel and Sarah core."

So naturally, I had to write it and set it in the HBO TLOU timeline. Sarah is 10 and we're going to suspend our disbelief about the technology of the year 2000 a little bit okay??? Digital cameras were not that good and very expensive and most people still did not have cell phones, but THE MILLERS DO OK. Anyway without further ado, I give you that (not so) old man doing something adorable. I hope you like it! My DMs and inbox are always open (yes I lovingly refer to you all as my little chickens, come say hi to me!). Reblogs and comments are appreciated per usual. 💖 Banner and title card made by me with the help of Canva :)

Sarah loves a lot of things about her life–her soccer team, her fourth grade teacher, all of the friends she’s made in her 10 years of life–but if you asked her what she loved most of all, she would say her family, hands down. Her family is small–just she, her dad, and her uncle Tommy–but their love for each other is anything but. It’s been the three of them her whole life and she’s never felt like there were any missing pieces, until one fateful Saturday in May. 

Sarah has spent nearly her entire life being told how proud her dad is of her, but today is a day Sarah is determined to show her dad how proud she is of him. She knows he tries to hide how stressed he’s been the last few years, how tired, but she’s a smart girl and she, to her dad’s chagrin, notices everything. Sarah almost can’t contain her excitement for her dad as her uncle Tommy parks his truck in the vast expanse of the University of Texas at Austin’s football stadium parking lot. She hops out of the backseat and slams the door like Tommy taught her to make sure it closes all the way on its rusty old hinges, and then bends at her waist to brush any pesky wrinkles from her dress. She wanted to look extra nice for today, trying to tame her thick, curly hair by tying it back in a low bun and fashioning her favorite flower pin on the side, donning her favorite sundress and the sandals her grandma said were nice enough for Sunday church. If they were nice enough for grandma’s church, they were definitely nice enough for her dad’s graduation, she figured. 

Sarah finds Tommy around the front of the truck as he’s pulling their entry tickets from his wallet. “Here you go, kiddo,” he says, extending a ticket to her with a smile. She replies her thanks before following him towards the imposing stadium ahead. Tommy helps lead them through the crowd, consistently checking to make sure she’s still near, Sarah offering him a smile each time she catches him looking. Their seats are up high, in the top third of the stadium bleachers. Sarah thinks she hears Tommy mutter something about only getting good seats if you donate a bunch of money under his breath, but she isn’t sure what exactly he means, so she ignores it. 

“Do you know where dad’s going to be?” Sarah asks her uncle. She wants to know where to look, doesn’t want to miss a minute of this, and she’s dubbed herself unofficial photographer for the day, so she wants to make sure she knows where to point the camera at all times. 

“Not yet, honey. We’ll keep our ears open, they usually announce each college as they come in, so we’ll know when to look for your dad,” Tommy reasons. 

“Good plan,” Sarah nods in return, eyes focusing back on the field ahead. 

Once it appears the seats have nearly filled, Sarah checks her trusty watch and sees the time has just passed 2:00, the scheduled start time for today’s ceremony. As if she triggered it herself, her head perks up as the sound of brass instruments rings out through the stadium, signaling the start of the ceremony. She watches the entrance of students intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dad. 

Sarah turns in her seat and asks, “Uncle Tommy, can I have the camera, please?” 

Tommy fishes in his pocket and pulls out the requested camera, placing it in Sarah’s open palm. “Yup, got it right here. You gonna be on photography duty today?” Tommy chuckles as he watches Sarah’s brows pull together just like her dad’s as she fiddles with the buttons on the camera until the settings are to her liking. 

“You bet,” Sarah answers, poking her tongue between her teeth as she looks down at the small digital viewfinder. “Can’t see anything, gonna use the zoom and see if I can see any better through the screen.”

Tommy lets out a low whistle, “Smarty pants over here, did we forget your cap and gown? Shouldn’t you be down there?” He jokes and pokes her in the ribs to make her giggle. 

“Uncle Tommy! Stop!” She laughs. “I’m trying to focus!”

“Alright, alright, kiddo. I’ll let you focus. Let me know if you find him.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Sarah salutes in return, earning a chuckle out of her uncle. 

The McComb School of Business is announced and Sarah sits up a little straighter, refocusing her efforts to capture every important moment. She squints against the afternoon sun, determined to find her dad amongst the long line of pending graduates. 

“There!” she points and Tommy follows her finger, trying to find what she’s seeing. “See his hat? I told him he needed to put something on it so we could find him and he told me to go wild, so I did. I knew that orange glitter glue would come in handy.”

Tommy spots him then, laughing when Sarah shows him the picture she’s snapped on the little screen, Joel’s graduation cap adorned with orange glitter glue that reads, “This old dog learned new tricks,” accompanied by two clip art dogs pasted on opposite corners. 

“D’you come up with that all on your own, smarty pants?” Tommy asks her. 

“Sure did,” Sarah chuffs. “Dad always says, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” when he doesn’t want to learn stuff like the camera or the computer, so I thought it would be funny,” she finishes with a shrug. Tommy silently laughs, his shoulders gently shaking, and Sarah smiles to herself. 

If there’s one thing Sarah will take away from this day it’s that graduation ceremonies are long and boring. There are about two minutes where she focuses intently as her dad’s row rises to make their way up to the stage. She diligently keeps the camera pointed his way, snapping pictures every so often. As he prepares to take the stage, she and Tommy stand from their seats. 

“Joel Alejandro Miller,” the announcer reads. Sarah and Tommy whoop and cheer as Joel crosses the stage, Sarah keeping the camera trained on her dad, making sure to press the shutter a few times as he shakes hands with the chancellor and receives his diploma. The rest of the ceremony goes by relatively uneventfully, until the graduates are instructed to stand and change their tassels from right to left. There’s a murmur through the audience and then the students erupt in a spirited rendition of, “The Eyes of Texas.” Sarah smiles as she watches the new graduates laugh and sing, throwing arms around friends and pointing to the sky. Once the song ends, the graduates then whoop and throw their caps into the air, and Sarah raises the camera once more to snap a couple final pictures. 

The crowd starts to dissipate, attendees making their way towards the exits to find their respective graduates. Sarah looks over the railing of the ramp as she and Tommy work their way down from their seats and watches as the mass of bodies move through the corridor, thinking about how they resemble a school of fish, almost liquid in the way they shift to accommodate obstacles in the hall. 

After a few minutes of shuffling, she and Tommy find the exit out of the stadium, heading towards the spot they designated to meet Joel after the ceremony. Sarah spots him first, poking Tommy in the arm and pointing his way. Tommy nods in acknowledgement, giving her the okay to head over. She looks both ways to make sure the coast is clear before breaking out in a jog. 

“Dad!” she calls, waving her arms to get Joel’s attention. His natural scowl drops the minute he sees her, face breaking out into a wide grin, and opens his arms as she rushes forward. Sarah meets him with force, earning a quiet, “Oof,” from her dad as she wraps her arms around his middle and hugs him tight. 

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” Sarah tells him, not letting go, but tipping her head back to look him in the eyes. If she notices the extra glimmer along his waterline, she doesn’t say anything. He pulls her in tighter, giving her small shoulders a squeeze, and Sarah feels the deep rumble of his laughter in her cheek. 

“Thanks, babygirl. I’m so glad you came,” Joel tells her, rubbing up and down her back before letting her go from his embrace. 

“Hey old man, proud of you brother,” Tommy greets Joel with a smile and a hug, the brothers exchanging firm pats on the back before separating. Joel gives him a half smile and thanks him for coming and for bringing Sarah.

Sarah steps back from their little group and realizes her dad has already taken off his cap and gown, and that just won’t do. 

“Dad, where’s your hat and robe?” Sarah chides, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a serious look. 

“It was hot, so I took them off,” Joel answers. 

“Well, put them back on! We need to get pictures!” Sarah iterates, raising the camera in front of her dad’s face and giving it a shake. 

Joel sighs, but relents. “Alright, alright, gimme a second, kiddo, then you can play photographer.” They find an open spot on the lawn and Sarah powers up the camera again, using the viewfinder to ensure the shot is lined up just right. 

“Ok, 1, 2, 3…say, “Hook ‘em!”” Sarah says. 

Joel smiles and entertains his daughter’s request. “Hook ‘em!” he says, smiling for the camera. 

“Ok, this one, hold up your diploma,” Sarah requests and Joel again complies. “Can we do one more?” Sarah asks. 

Joel gives her a nod, “Sure thing, honey.”

“Ok, this one, do the Hook ‘Em horns,” Sarah says and she does the gesture with her own small hand. Joel mimics his daughter and smiles for the camera as she snaps the picture. She pulls up the recent shots and turns the camera towards her dad to review them together, unaware that they’ve been watched for the last few minutes. 

“Excuse me,” a soft voice interrupts Sarah and Joel from their scrolling and they look up to find a new member has joined their party. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw your daughter taking pictures and I thought y’all might want a few together?” Wow, pretty, Sarah thinks as she assesses the stranger. 

Joel clears his throat and Sarah turns her head to see her dad’s cheeks have flushed a new shade of pink as he stammers out a, “That’s awful kind of you, darlin’. Thanks for offerin’, we’d love that.” Sarah’s mouth ticks up into a smirk, the dimple she shares with her dad crescenting her cheek. She turns to Tommy and they share a knowing look. 

“Thank you, ma’am. You just press this button here,” Sarah hands over the camera and shows the pretty stranger how to operate it.

“Got it, thanks, sweetie,” she replies before bringing the camera’s viewfinder up to her eye and lining up the duo. “Ok, big smiles,” she says and clicks the shutter. She smiles and moves the camera away from her face for a moment to direct, “How about we get one with both of you showing us your best “Hook ‘Em” next,” before once again snapping the photo. “Alright, let’s do one more. Gimme your best silly faces!” and she lets out a shimmering laugh as she presses the shutter a final time. 

“Perfect,” she says to the small family, smiling and handing the camera to Joel, their fingers brushing briefly as the camera exchanges hands before both of their eyes lift to meet. Tension lingers only for a moment at the contact before they both let out breathy chuckles. The stranger lifts her hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Joel’s gaze following the motion, Sarah’s gaze locked on her father. 

“This was real kind of you, darlin’. Thanks again for helping us out,” Joel says, trying to extend the moment just a little longer. 

“Oh, it was nothin’. My pleasure, really,” she replies in kind, waving him off, her gaze dropping shyly to the ground. “Well,” she continues, bringing her gaze back to Joel’s, “I better head back or my sister,” she turns her torso and gestures to where her party is standing and carrying on conversation, “will never let me hear the end of it, how I deserted her on her own graduation day after she spent torturous hours sitting through mine a few years back,” She chuckles softly and clasps her hands in front of her, kicking out one foot and cocking her hip slightly to the side. 

“Alright, s'pose we better let you get on back then,” Joel replies. Sarah catches a sadness in her dad’s eyes at their pretty stranger’s words. “Thanks again…I know, I know, I’ll stop,” he laughs when she gives him a stink eye at his persistent gratitude. “Have fun with your family. And pass on our congrats to your sister.”

“I will,” she nods before taking a visible breath and waving goodbyes to the three Millers. She turns and heads back towards her own family. Sarah watches her dad watch her the entire time she goes, turning to Tommy and sharing an unspoken conversation before Tommy breaks the silence. 

“Alright, brother, why don’t you say hi to your fancy college buddies before we head out. I’ll entertain the sprout for a few minutes. Then we can head out for ice cream,” Tommy says, pulling Sarah into his arms and giving her a soft noogie while she cringes good naturedly. 

“Uncle Tommy! Stop, you’re going to mess up my hair!” Sarah complains. Tommy relents and Joel eyes the pair suspiciously, but ultimately agrees. He gives the camera back to Sarah for safekeeping, and she dramatically tells him she’ll protect it with her life. He laughs before leaving the pair on the lawn to find a few of his classmates and professors. 

Once he’s out of eye and earshot, Sarah and Tommy form a quick plan and spring into action. 

It’s getting late, the sun set, the evening sky dark and air heavy with the remaining heat and moisture from the day. Joel is sat in his makeshift home office at his messy desk, camera in hand, flipping through the pictures Sarah took earlier in the day. She got some pretty good shots, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly when he realizes how gaudy his cap looked from the crowd. 

He gets to the pictures of he and Sarah together and smiles, loving how happy his little girl looks, how proud she clearly is of him, how much fun they have together. He tries and fails not to think of the beautiful woman who took those pictures earlier, of the jolt of electricity that zipped up his arm and ran through his heart when their fingers touched, and he especially tries not to think about how he never managed to get her name. 

Just when he thinks he’s gotten to the end, the silly faces he and Sarah made only hours ago staring back at him through the small camera screen, he notices the number in the upper righthand corner. 24/25. There’s one more. He flips to it curiously, finding a special face looking back at him. A wide toothy smile, hair still tucked behind one ear, gorgeous little sundress that should have been illegal to wear out in public, and…holding a piece of paper? There’s something written on there and Joel desperately wants to know what it says, but for the life of him, he can’t remember how Sarah told him to work the goddamn zoom. 

He flips to the picture before, of him and Sarah making silly faces, swallows his pride and prepares himself for the shit he knows he’s about to get from his daughter before bellowing out, “Sarah! Babygirl, can you come here, please? Need you to help me with the camera!”

Sarah bounds into the room, sly grin already plastered on her face. Joel holds out the camera and asks, “How do you work the zoom on this thing again?”

Sarah walks over to her dad and points out the buttons he needs to use. “These right here, the plus sign zooms in, the minus sign zooms out, and you use these,” she moves her finger down to the directional arrow buttons that form a small circle on the lower right side of the camera, “to move the picture around when you’re zoomed in. Make sense?”

“Clear as mud,” Joel replies, giving the buttons a try to make sure he has it before dismissing his daughter, thanking her for her help, and thinks he hears her mutter something about old dogs and new tricks as she leaves the room. 

Joel turns his head to make sure Sarah isn’t hanging around before flipping back to the last picture on the digital version of a camera roll. He does as Sarah instructed, presses the plus button until the picture is zoomed in enough that he can read the paper being held up to the camera. No fucking way. He blinks, squints, rubs his eyes, and looks again, but his eyes did not deceive him. Written on the paper in a looping scrawl is undeniably a phone number. Joel leans back in his chair and brings his hand up to his mouth before pulling it down and resting on his lap. He stares at the screen for a moment in disbelief before letting out a low chuckle. He looks away from the screen and over towards the office entrance again, thinking about Tommy and Sarah and their insistence to hang back and let Joel congratulate his classmates and thank his professors. 

“Son of a bitch,” Joel murmurs to himself. He shakes his head and looks back at the screen. He holds his gaze there for a minute, then one more, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, punching in the number and hitting the green call button before he loses his nerve. 

The line rings once, twice, three times, and Joel thinks maybe this was a mistake, calling a relative stranger after a brief (at most) meeting, but then the ringing stops and a newly familiar voice answers with a soft, “Hello?”

Joel smiles as his anxieties drift away, “Hey, darlin’. Nice to hear your voice again.”

END

Tagging some friends who might be interested: @5oh5 @javierpena-inatacvest @swiftispunk @sawymredfox

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - chapter 3

Feylin, eventual Feysand

Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Series Masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Words: ~2.1k

Warnings: just A/B/O dynamics, Rhys being a bit of a dick

Author's Note: having lots of fun writing this, I'm gonna try to post on AO3 too if I remember. I enjoyed this chapter, I hope you will too!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“It’s… not what I expected?” Feyre admitted, surprise lacing her tone. “It’s a lot less… ominous then I thought it would look.”

Rhysand laughed, a lighter one than he used back in Spring. “You are probably picturing the other half of my court, but no need to worry my darling Feyre-”

“I’m not your anything!” Feyre interjected, moving a few paces away from him. “Do not act like me being here for a week every month gives you any kind of ownership over me!”

Rhysand held up his hands in surrender, attempting to placate Feyre’s still wired emotions. “I meant no claim in my statement, Feyre. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying when you’re here,” he told her, walking in the direction they were facing.

Feyre stared at him for a moment, wondering why he seemed so much more relaxed now that it was just the two of them. She tried to take a step forward to follow him, then remembered that she was still wearing those cauldron-damned heels that were far high and far too thin for her to feel safe in.

Carefully, she lowered herself to her hands then sat on the floor, attempting to reach past the skirts of her dress to untie the shoes.

“Feyre, what are you-?” Rhysand started, turning to face her again. “Oh, Feyre darling, would you like some help taking off your shoes?” He asked in a playful tone, already returning to her side, his citrus and sea scent washing over her in a wave of calm.

Seeing as she still hadn’t managed to get her hands on one of the shoes yet and her hands didn’t seem to want to help now that she’d scented him, Feyre sighed “Yes, please.”

“Good manners too, better than most of the times I’ve seen you.” His voice was full of mirth, but the compliment made her feel more at ease. Her omega was settling down, happy to be acknowledged for something, anything positive. He gently lifted the skirts of her dress, and quickly untied the heels from her feet, his hands lingering for a moment before grabbing the heels and standing up.

He extended his free hand, which Feyre ignored. She managed to get on her knees again, but the weight of the dress and her exhaustion combined was too much for her to get her feet beneath her again. She sighed again, grabbing his hand and letting him help her the rest of the way up, brushing against his chest on accident, getting an even deeper breath of him this time.

Lovely. Refreshing. Safe.

“They really didn’t want you to run away, did they?” Rhysand asked after they started walking.

“Excuse you?” Feyre asked, stunned by the question and her thoughts.

“I just mean that they have you in a dress you can barely walk in from the weight and shape, and shoes that seem a bit dangerous to wear. Especially on grass,” he points out, shaking the heels still in his hand.

Feyre leaned over and snatched them from him. “Impractical is the fashion, it does not mean they want me to be shackled to Spring.”

“Two things can be right at the same time, Feyre,” he said, stopping in front of a door to their right, turning the handle and pushing it open, allowing Feyre to walk in first.

The open wall at the back had silk curtains of different hues of blue covering it and swaying in the slight breeze. The bed was situated against the left wall, also covered in deep blues and purples, and a canopy of fabric above it, with drapes tied up and ready to be let down- perfect for feeling safe in a heat, her omega whispered inside of her, a thought she crushed down deep inside of her.

The bed was lovely though, it looked soft and comfortable and ready for her to take a nap in.

Looking over the rest of the room, Feyre saw a large open archway at back of the right wall, presumably leading towards a bathroom, as well as a vanity with a mirror, a large armoire, and a plush looking chair in the corner. Near the back of the room was a small round table with two chairs, and she knew she wanted to have breakfast or tea there one of her days here and look out at the mountains… she might even daydream about painting them.

Feyre walked further in, wanting to see the bathing room. And she wasn’t disappointed- her mouth fell slightly open, staring at the large tub, nearly the size of a small pond, with an open wall facing towards those very mountains she wanted to admire.

Maybe this was where she would take her tea.

Today, if possible.

She moved back into the main room, back towards where Rhysand was standing in the doorway.

“What do you think?”

“It’s… beautiful,” Feyre admitted reluctantly. She had been prepared to hate her time here. Hate everything here. But so far, everything… even Rhysand has been tolerable. Lovely, even, in the case of her room.

“Thank you, Feyre. I’m glad you like it.”

Feyre chewed her lip, trying to force out the question sitting in her throat.

Violet eyes tracked the movement, his brow cocking a moment later. “Yes, Feyre?”

“Were you…” she paused, embarrassment at the question building. “Were you serious about returning me to Spring if I… gointoheat?” is forced out of her, needing to know the answer.

“Of course, sweet omega. I would never deny you going back to your chosen alpha when in need,” he said reassuringly. Her cheeks flushed at pet name, unable to make herself as mad about it as she should be, since he had taken her away from said alpha and her wedding ceremony itself-

Oh, the anger was coming back. She had been taken from her alpha.

“But you’ll take me from him on my wedding day.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “You were panicking over your wedding day Feyre, shooting all of those emotions right down the bond at me,” he said, waving his left hand at her. “I saved you from having to run away in front of all those guests, from the alpha who still hasn’t claimed you after a year.” His voice quieted at the end, rage pouring into it.

Feyre inhaled sharply, her fear suddenly a gaping wound, she knew it wasn’t right that Tamlin hasn’t marked her yet-

“And while I would love for you to be my sweet, claimed omega, I know that you are very much in love with Tamlin.” Feyre bared her teeth slightly at his words, anger bubbling to the surface over her hurt. “It’s just too bad that there were all those petals everywhere, too bad that your betrothed couldn’t bother to make the ceremony feel safe for you.”

“How dare you!” Feyre yelled, hurling one of the shoes in her hand at his head, striking him on the forehead. She raised the remaining shoe as he opened his mouth again, ready to hit him again if he continued insulting her alpha.

“I have merely stated the truth Feyre.”

The second shoe went flying, disappointingly caught in his hand instead of by his stupid, perfect face. “I did not ask for your warped version of the truth, Rhysand. I also did not ask for you to save me from my wedding.”

He considered her words for a moment, and then the shoe was dissolving into nothing but dust. “And yet I did anyways,” he said with a smirk, turning to leave her room. “Do remember, I gave you a whole year before calling in the bargain. I was simply worried about you, Feyre darling, and decided to pay you a visit.” He picked lint off of his finely tailored suit, before looking Feyre in the eyes again. “I will see you for breakfast in the morning, Feyre. Taking your meals with me will be my one requirement of your time here. Dinner tonight will be on your own, however. Nuala and Cerridwen will be available to help you if you need it-” he paused at her look of confusion. “The shadow wraiths who helped you Under the Mountain,” he explained, and Feyre nodded her head tightly at the reminder.

Rhysand moved towards the door, taking a moment to look back at Feyre, still in her wedding gown. “Would you like me to have them come in now to help you take off that monstrosity of a wedding dress? Or perhaps I could-”

“Rhysand!” Feyre yelled in answer, storming over to the door as fast as she could to slam the door in his face.

Feyre turned the lock on the door, nearly sliding down it before she remembered that she was unable to get up on her own. She trudged over to the vanity, observing herself in the mirror. Her makeup was still alright, but her hair looked worse than before, now a frizzy mess on her head. She began pulling the various pins from her, each one followed by a small sigh of relief. Once she had finished, she shoved the pins into one of the drawers of the vanity, not caring about being clean at the moment.

All she could think about was getting out of this cauldron damned dress and into that amazing tub just a few feet away.

She tried to remember how Alis had put her into this thing, but her memory was of no help to her. She knew it had gone over her head, but she thought Alis had secured it somehow, buttons maybe?

But she couldn’t reach them. No matter how hard she fiddled around, she was stuck in the dress.

If Tamlin were here, this would be so much easier. He would probably rip straight through it and tear it off me, Feyre thought, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. But Tamlin wasn’t here. So she continued trying to free herself.

After a quarter hour struggling with the damn thing, she gave in and reached out through her bond with Rhys.

Could you send Nuala and Cerridwen in to me?

Of course, darling, was his answering, insufferable reply.

A minute later, the two wraiths were at her door, before Feyre remembered she had locked her door, and would take a while to get up alone. “I locked the door and can’t get up, could you come in anyways?” She asked, her voice small.

They passed through the door, becoming corporeal on the other side.

One of them helped her to stand, and the other immediately set about finding the buttons holding her inside of the dress.

They worked incredibly quickly, one twin working on the buttons as the other lifted the layers upon layers off of her body, and within five minutes she was left in just her slip dress and lingerie.

“Thank you,” she smiled at the two.

“Of course, Lady Feyre,” said one of them. “Is there anything else we can do for you before dinner?”

Feyre chewed her lip, then asked “would you get me a pot of tea please? On a tray I can have next to the tub, if that’s possible. Oh, and please call me Feyre.”

“That should be no problem at all, Feyre. We’ll be back in a few minutes, feel free to get comfortable in the bath if you’d like.”

And with that, the quiet and gentle twins left the room, taking the pile of tulle with them.

Feyre looked over to the archway, and like a moth to a flame drifted into the bathroom, landing on the edge of the tub, dragging her fingers through the water. Already the perfect temperature.

Her slip went over her head as she walked back into her room and was thrown onto the large chair near the armoire. She sighed as she slipped off the bra and panties she had been so excited to show her husband fiancé, and tossed those on the chair as well.

Returning to the bath, she tested the water again with one foot, and then stepped in fully, sinking down and submerging herself up to her neck, tilting her head back to wet her hair.

She floated over to the edge of the bath, resting her head along it and looking out into the beautiful, snow capped mountains.

Aside from how annoying Rhysand can be, and how he knows just how to get on her nerves, the Night Court doesn’t seem to be as horrible as Tamlin and Ianthe claimed it would be.

After all, she has a room fit for a queen and a view so spectacular, her fingers are itching to paint for the first time in over a year.

[sitp-recs]

heyo!! been loving the super specific rec lists youve been making lately :)

do you have favorite fics that include riding! as in. riding cock. bonus points if there’s good dirty talk about it. don’t care who’s on who as long as it is HOT! but obv i love drarry most. hope this is fun!

An ask after my own heart 🥹 thank you for the delicious request anon, here are some fics with memorable riding scenes imho. This reminded me of my fave Starker PWP but that’s neither here nor there so I’ll keep this short & Drarry. I hope you enjoy! 🔥

Move by @shealwaysreads (829 words)

“Come on, fuck yourself on it. I won’t make it move until you do.”

You Either Fuck or You Get Fucked by @fw00shy (2k)

"That's not how fucking works. Fucking's…" Draco waved a hand in the air. "You either fuck or you get fucked." "Sure," Harry said. He took out a Sickle. "Toss for it?"

in charge by @bonesliketambourines (2.4k)

Draco's bossy. Turns out that extends to the bedroom, too. Harry likes it—a lot.

Mens Rea by @lqtraintracks (E, 3k)

Mens Rea: the mental element of a person's intention to commit a crime; or knowledge that one's action or lack of action would cause a crime to be committed. “Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?” I’m super fucking guilty.

Like Gold by @the-sinking-ship (4k)

Draco runs away from home on the back of his boyfriend’s motorbike.

Catch the Snitch (No, Catch My Heart) by prolix (4.5k)

Draco secretly loved when Harry lost a match.

A Delicate Arrangement by mindabbles (E, 6k)

Harry's learned over time that a delicate touch is sometimes superior to a harsh grip. If he can remember that with Draco, he might solve the case, protect a dozen children, and he may, he may just get what he wants most.

Sexplanations (Of the Horrible Sort) by @bixgirl1 (7k)

Harry's willing to put up with a certain amount of injury, as long as he and Malfoy can keep doing... whatever it is they're doing. Maybe. Mostly. Especially if there might be more to it than sex.

Team Building for Dummies by InnerLilith (E, 7k)

Tensions run high when Harry and Draco are both drafted (as starting Seeker and substitute, respectively) for the English national team ahead of the 2002 World Cup. An impulsive bet on the outcome of a practice game resolves the tension in ways Harry wasn’t expecting.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Bored and annoyed, the two take up tabloid baiting for sport and pleasure.

like a scratch on the roof of your mouth by eleadore (E, 9k)

Two weeks into the new year, Draco Malfoy saves Ron's life in a spectacular fashion.

It's the Love of the Chase (That Created the Ride) by @lqtraintracks (14k)

Draco and Harry are new Auror partners. It's a bit dull. Until they finally see some spell action and things get a lot more interesting (in Draco's pants).

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (15k)

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

you look so fine by michi_thekiller (E, 16k)

In which Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate. Dark!Humor or Crack!Horror, you decide.

Buy A Heart by xErised (E, 17k)

Draco's cock hardens as he looks at the invitation to the charity auction; his golden ticket to one wild night of desperate sex with Potter to get rid of this inexplicable obsession. His heart whispers that one night will never be enough, but Draco is beyond caring. All he knows is that he will pay any price to have Potter over and over again.

White as Snow by @bixgirl1 (19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (20k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Touch Me Fall by @lqtraintracks (23k)

Malfoy was such a ponce. And he was a complete snob. And he was so fucking fit Harry wanted to jump him where he sat. It would be too easy to forget his objective tonight: to really, really, really get Malfoy out of his system.

In Your Arms, Rests My World by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (24k)

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it. “You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

Embers by @shiftylinguini (41k)

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice.

[anjukurada-fanfic-rec-blog]

HELLUVA BOSS SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 SPOILERS!!!

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One of the themes for this episode seems to revolve around Parasocial Relationships at many different levels. For those who are unaware of what that means, here's a quick definition:

"Parasocial relationships are one-sided relationships, where one person extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, is completely unaware of the other's existence. Parasocial relationships are most common with celebrities, organizations (such as sports teams) or television stars."

Parasocial relationships ARE COMMON and are, at a base level, normal! Humans are social creatures, even the most introverted will be driven to find even a small connection with another person. We find connections based off interests, personalities, common personal themes (such as lived history and trauma, happy moments, etc.) A person with certain insecurities or trauma may find a connection with a character or actor with similar insecurities or traumas, and find comfort in that shared experience.

Honestly, anyone in a fandom has had some level of parasocial relationships! A favorite actor. A favorite sports star/team. A favorite character that you hold dear. You may collect things in regards to that person/team, you may follow their social media, you may keep track of what they're doing with their lives. As I stated, Parasocial relationships are normal.

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ALL of Fizz's fans are in some form of parasocial relationship with him. You have some really wholesome and innocent ones like these:

And you have ones who are a little TOO comfortable and end up crossing boundaries and comfort zones simply because they BELIEVE it would be acceptable. The image that Mammon has made for Fizz would imply that Fizz is comfortable with this treatment, and therefore, the fans show their support in a more uncomfortable fashion. But there is still a disconnect there. Most of these fans still see Fizz as a character. An actor and a performer, NOT as a personal friend. They all still have that understanding that THEY are not any more special than the person next to them. They are there FOR THE COMMUNITY, for the bonding and the sharing of experiences. None of these people believe that they actually have a chance at being something special for the Real Fizz. Some may cope with that by buying a Robo-Fizz to fulfill fantacies, but they still understand the disconnect. They're there for the community and the experience, and they're fine with that.

But then you have THIS MOTHERFUCKER. The physical representation of the Darker side of Parasocial Relationships. He doesn't understand the disconnect, he doesn't understand that boundary that he's crossing.. The emotional intensity of this parasocial bond makes him act recklessly, obsessively, and downright threateningly, resulting in stalking and harrassment in order to attain even a modicum of attention from his obsession. Blitz mentions that this Imp has been snooping around their dressing rooms in order to get to Fizz, and he stalked them this whole way after Mammon's show just to have this interaction. He continues to be obsessed with Fizz into adulthood.

It is normal to have an emotional connection to other people, even celebrities and stars. We can relate to them, they give us joy and entertainment, it is even normal to hope to have an interaction with these people. But this imp has bypassed "normal" and has convinced himself that Fizz would give him the time of day. That their connection would be enough for Fizz to have a personal relationship with him. He believes that he is owed Fizz's time and attention. He either refuses or is unable to see the fear and discomfort he causes the person he claims to care about, and will lash out at anyone who tries to get in the way of him and his obsession. He has created this fantasy world where he and Fizz would meet and be together and be happy for the rest of their lives, completely disregarding Fizz and his emotions. When he tries again in adulthood to get Fizz to talk to him and acknowledge him, he becomes angry when Fizz refuses to "play his role" in this imp's fantasy. When he is rejected for the last time, he becomes so angry and hurt that he actually goes into Fizz's room prepared to attack him with a knife.

People keep saying that this imp was cringy, that this whole thing was cringy and unrealistic, but this is actually a REALITY that many of us either don't acknowledge or we just don't see. We hear stories of obsessed fans ALL THE TIME. Ones who show up at celebrity's homes and places of work, who stalk and harass them, who demand some form of communication and respect. We hear of fans who claim that they are dating a celebrity, and actually believe that they are simply because the celebrity SPOKE to them. There have been attempted and successful kidnaps and attacks by these fans.

As cringy as this is, THIS is a reality for many people who are in the spotlight. There are a lot of people who don't understand the boundaries, the limits, and the social norms, and will fully believe that they are fated to be with a certain person. We have all, in some way, felt that desire to have an interaction with someone 'special'. Many of us pay hundreds of dollars in order to have a picture taken with a special person because that moment is SO important to us. But for some, they cross that line and it becomes a very dangerous situation...

I love how they portrayed that situation here. Realistic, even if cringy.

[tmwcs]

S E 7 E N : M A M M O N P A R T F O 4 R

M A S T E R L I S T

Warnings: Just lots of fluff, mentions of bodies being mutiliated, torn, shredded, turned into statues, enveloped by metals, people getting smacked, (they had it coming) and i think that's it really.

You couldn’t recall but you were quite certain that that was the first time he had cursed as throughout the day, he had displayed himself in a composed and fashionable manner, in an overly polite display.

Yet the moment that he witnessed the audacity of the regulators refusing to heed his tone, the vulgarity in his choice of words came out, and it came out deadly.  

Looking back at you, with his hand reaching up to cup your cheeks once more, he places a passionate and deep kiss, the first and only one he has given you since the moment you met him earlier in the day. Pulling back, he lovingly gazes into your eyes as you hear the lashings of the members in the background.  

“Tell me….pretty kitten…..are you ready to see some dark shit?” he smiles at you, his nose tip touching yours.  

Nodding, you were beginning to get used to witnessing the full extent of what these men were capable of.  He chuckles affectionately.  

“You want to know my real name?” he gently whispers against your lips, slightly breathing against it as he rubs his own against yours…from left…..to right. “You want to know where I come from? What I do? What I’m capable of?.....Pretty kitten?” he whispers as he continues to affectionately rub his lips against yours.  

“……Yes…..” you whispered back at the feel of his warmth.  

With a gentle kiss to your lips, he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and tells you softly.  

“Good girl…..watch what I do.”  

Turning around, as he extends his arms back to cradle you in against his broad shoulder blades. Taking both of your hands in his, he loops them around and places them over his waist, making you hug him from behind as he pulls you closer, causing your chest to plaster itself onto his back muscles. With his hands softly placing yours around his waist, he takes your strong one, lifts it towards his face, and places a kiss on the back of your hand, before gently reaching towards his back and placing your hands on to your side, and walks forward.

 “Alright you morons, hope you said your prayers….” Jungwon chuckles out.  

With one hand tucked inside his pocket, as he did before, slightly ruffling up his black jacket, while the other lifts to eye level, he positions his fingers as he prepares to snap them.  

“Time to say good night.”  

Snapping them, you watched at how, on que, with a hollowed gut feeling taking place in your body, that the pieces of jewelry that adorned each member, the metal of their weapons, the rings, and the badges, had all started to expand and morph, appearing as if they were melting and yet coating their bodies as they hysterically run around, scattered, trying to remove and push the seemingly liquified substance off as the golden shine of their rings turned them into gold statues, or the silver blades of their knives extended into a greater length and it’s jagged edges spiraled all around them, cutting them to bits and pieces.  

Members who didn’t adorn any pieces of jewelry, not even their rings or badges, witnessed their peers being slaughtered in such an usual manner, or turned into statues of gold.  

“Fucking get him and kill that whore!” You watched as the remaining members rush in, all aiming their guns and batons towards Jungwon.

 “Oh don’t worry…I got you.” Jungwon smirks as he narrows his eyes at the men rushing in.

Taking off one his rings, with a large diamond in the center, he tosses it before him, and in doing so, within a blink of an eye, a series of speared shrapnel disburses by the numbers, piercing, jabbing, stabbing, and tearing through the men’s bodies as they soon become unrecognizable from the amount of punctures and piercings they suffer from the diamond arrows.  

With the members collected on the ground, dying, issuing out their last breaths, Jungwon speaks out… 

“You fools….go ahead and flare your diamonds, gems, silver and gold…

For I will bestow upon you, the tales of the old.  

The sickness of GREED infects you, your selfishness follows suit. 

Stemming from the moment, you consumed the forbidden fruit. 

You yearn for money and treasure…

the sparkle of a virgin’s pleasure. 

Until you raise high, far, wide, and reaching Heaven’s height.

I watch as you strip the innocent, of their rightful birthright. 

So witness as I, Mammon, Prince of Greed, The Golden Demon and Treasurer of Hell...

Will turn your flesh into silver and gold, forever marking my story to tell.”  

After hearing him call out his name as he displayed an introduction similar to that of Jay’s as he notoriously announces his title, you realized that with Jungwon, it was all started to make sense.  Jay and his affinity with insects, the butterfly he drew out and named after you.  

‘Beezlebub…Lord of the Flies…’ 

And Jungwon’s lavish pieces he adorned on his fingers, the diamond earrings he had on as well as the high valued pair he created for you… 

‘Mammon…Prince of Greed.’

It was all coming together as you realized, these men, were what you’ve ounce recounted reading about in the Bible… 

‘The Seven Princes of Hell….the Seven Deadly Sins.’

The only you haven’t been able to tell was Helel…though you knew you were going to find out soon enough.  

With the park now decorated with blood, torn flesh, and golden statues of the forever cursed members of the cult and the screams of pain and agonizing torture fading out to silence, Jungwon smirks as he turns back over to you.

Reaching for your hand, he pulls you in and walks you, leading you by his strong hold. Looking at the gold statue of one of the regulators, he softly tells you.

 “Its okay, you can touch it.” he nods to the statue as he softly gazes at you. "Go ahead."

Glancing over to him, he softly smiles as he leads you by the hand and gently swings you over towards the statue. Touching it, you don’t know why you were surprised after everything you’ve witnessed, yet you issued a gasp as you felt the legitimate value of the gold figure, who was just a moment ago, a man of flesh and bone.  

Chuckling softly, he continues to lead you with his grip, swaying your hand as he holds on and walks you back to your apartment.  

Opening the door, he leads you in and walks you into the center of the living room. Little Kimchi napping on your sofa as he leans over and greets the baby kitten with his gentle fingers.  

Straightening his posture and standing directly in front of you, he smirks.  

“Stay here, go to sleep, and wait till morning. Okay?” he softly issues out as he raises a piece of your hair that grew from the nape of your neck.  

Looping his finger under your collar bone, he hooks the small piece in his fingers, rubbing the tips against the strands as he enjoys the feel of the smooth silkiness that transpires from his movement.  

Seeing a faint bit of smoke that emerges from the side of your peripherals, you watch as he burns off the piece, and holds it in between said fingers, just like he did before with the brazen woman at the store.   

Holding up the small bit of strands he burned off, he looks at you with an affectionate expression.  

“Taking a piece of you back with me.” He issues softly.  

You smirked and nodded, and he responds by pocketing the burnt off strands, and rubs the tips of his nose against yours one last time.

 Taking Kimchi into his arms, he cradles the baby animal as he stands before you, leans in, and whispers… 

“See you in a little while…both of us will.” He stated as he nudged against the sleeping kitten, referencing how they both will welcome you when it is time for you to come ‘home.’  

As he continues to cradle the kitten, he leans in and places a gentle and faint kiss on your lips.  

The moment you opened your eyes, he, along with the small kitten, were gone…  

"And I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations." – Luke 16:9                      

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry @honeysjae

[good-yonji-au]

So I discovered this AU about 5 hours ago and it has me in a chokehold. Your Yonji is a precious bean and he must be protected at all times, and Sanji being a big brother is everything I didn't even know I wanted. <3 I hope you don't mind the influx of questions I have after going through the whole tag.

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics? Some that came to mind for Yonji are:

"Stray Italian Greyhound" by Vienna Teng

"To Be Human" by Sia

"Zephyrus" by The Oh Hellos

"Stigma" by V

And I think "Soap" by The Oh Hellos maybe fits Sanji's feelings toward having his brother back in his life and being willing to extend a second chance to him after seeing how he's changed.

Holy shit that's a long ask! Lemme see...

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

They've hugged, mostly at WCI arc. But for the most part they're touch adverse (despite being touch starved). Yonji enjoys instigating physical affection to anyone but he's not great at taking it.

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Yonji very rarely fights anymore. He usually quickly gets overwhelmed and becomes a mess, yes, due to all of the emotions. Whenever he gets into a fight he loses control of his Haki and it's a bad time. However, if he has a goal, (protecting someone, getting something etc.) he can power through it. His fighting style is still mostly brute force punching because he hasn't learned any other way. However, when he joins the Revs, he gets taught to be more smart about it.

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

It used to! He broke a lot of them/refuses to use them. He knew how it worked enough to keep it functional up until he meets the Strawhats and upon finding the frankly horrendous state of the prosthetic, Franky helps make Yonji a new one, specialized for tailoring! He rarely gets issues with the new are but if he does he can usually troubleshoot himself or attempt to contact Franky.

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

For the most part, he's self-taught! Maybe I'll give him a mentor but I'm usually pretty adverse to making OCs for my AUs. Hmmmmm. He definitely had a training arc under some big name shops at one point though.

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

*smacks yonji on the head* This good boy can fit so much guilt complex in him! He's guilty about everything all the time! Yes, he does want to help Ichiji and Niji, which comes into play post WCI. While Sanji and Yonji tend to avoid talking about Judge or their siblings, Sora has been brought up before. I know I haven't mentioned it on tumblr yet, but I sometimes draw Yonji with a necklace, which is supposed to be a trinket of Sora's that Reiju gave to him when Yonji ran away. Yonji's memories of Sora is hazy and he pretty torn up about it. Yeah, he asks Sanji for stories about her. <3

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

He lives on this random island along the Grandline! Something kinda like Saboady or Hand Island. The Straw Hats (specifically) Sanji has visited few times post the initial meeting but Yonji does not actively travle with them. He might had, like, one adventure with them but otherwise he's not part of the crew or anything. He does get the SH's den den mushi number and keeps in touch that way. Occasionally he'll send packages- usually at the behest of Sanji at the behest of Nami, lol. Later, Yonji ends up getting roped into joining the Revs and he splits his time between being at his shop and at Baltigo.

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

YES! Specifically Yonji crying and gushing about how good Sanji's cooking is. Yonji is a little foodie and while he can't cook to save his life, he does happen to know a good bit about how food gets made and really learned to appreciate the effort that goes into cooking. Sanji is not normal over this fact. He has the "Don't touch my brother!" moment at WCI screaming at Judge. Which sends Yonji into a blubbering mess. (A lot of things happen WCI lmfao.)

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics?

My ass doesn't actively listen to a whole bunch of music but I have made a playlist for this AU! The vibe mostly is like upbeat songs with sad lyrics lol.

Forgive my terrible terrible taste in music:

Thank you for the songs! Gonna snag 'em and add 'em to the playlist hehe.

Also, thank you for the ask!!!! <3 <3

[jaimeslanisters]

the pawn in every lover's game (part five)

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

When you're ten, your father sends you to King's Landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. A lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 6k notes: slightly tipsy while posting this so forgive any mistakes! hope you enjoy!

The library is blessedly quiet as you enter. With the official welcoming feast for the wedding set to begin in a few hours, the Lannister apartments that typically only housed you and your uncle had been transformed into a verifiable disaster zone. Your cousins were scrambling about to get dressed and ready, blurs of shining golds and deep reds, with their servants scuttling behind them. Your father had long since slipped out and even your Uncle Tyland had vanished, eager to escape the mess. After your third time crashing right into a harried handmaid, you had followed their example and had left the apartments with haste, wishing that your extended family could all just disappear so the Red Keep apartments that had become your home could once again become the tranquil space you were used to. The halls are hardly any different with servants and noblemen alike buzzing about and, desperate for peace and quiet, you had headed directly for the library.

When you first enter, only the usual maester is seated by the entrance. He doesn’t look up when you come in, keeping his head bowed as he scribbles away, and you silently move past him, heading to the table in the back that you and Aemond share. As you head deeper into the library, you realize with a flush of embarrassment that your gown, an opulent golden dress covered in hundreds of mini jewels that cinches at your waist and flares out from there, is too big to fit through the narrow rows of books that hide your childhood meeting spot and that you’ll have to turn sideways and pull it up at the sides to squeeze through. For the first time in your life, you pray to the gods that Aemond is not there to see how ridiculous you look as you shimmy through the aisles, cursing under your breath as you take care to not catch the jewels on your dress on any of the books.

Predictably, however, the gods do not take your side and, when you tumble out of the aisle, nearly falling, Aemond is there to watch you with barely repressed laughter.

As usual, he’s surrounded by books and scrolls, some of which you know must come from the Lord Hand’s desk as he usually helps his grandfather with some of the day-to-day tasks. He’s dressed for the occasion with his black tunic encrusted with shining emeralds that form dragon heads on his chest, some of his hair braided back rather than simply pulled back as he usually did.

You don’t pause to admire how handsome he looks, however, instead frowning at him. “I would love to see you, Prince Aemond, attempt to navigate small aisles in a gown like the one I’m wearing right now. Perhaps you wouldn’t be laughing then.”

He shakes his head, biting back a smile. “I don’t think you would enjoy that, my lady. I’m afraid I wouldn’t look nearly as captivating as you do in that dress.”

“I’m glad you thought I looked lovely as I played the fool for you,” you shoot back even as your cheeks blaze at the compliment. You slide into your usual seat, crossing your arms. “Perhaps you can demand the aisles be made larger to accommodate women’s fashions so I don’t look quite so ridiculous the next time.”

“I can’t see most women wearing gowns fit for a royal wedding feast to the library but I’ll be sure to bring it up with the Lord Hand next chance I get,” he says as he turns back to his work, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

You roll your eyes, reaching for one of his papers to skim. “More’s the pity,” you reply as your eyes scan over the carefully written out summary of proposed tax increases for the lords of the Crownlands. “I heard from the Queen that Princess Rhaenys is here. You might wish to discuss these increases with her to ensure that the other lords don’t complain. The Crown rules the region but many of them tend to fall behind House Velaryon.”

“I doubt she’d want to speak to me. I don’t think Princess Rhaenys likes me much,” he responds, not looking up from his work. “Something to do with a dragon and a funeral.”

“The fact that she came to this wedding means she doesn’t want to depend on Princess Rhaenyra to support her own house,” you shoot back and he looks up at you. “Lord Corlys is at war in the Step Stones. That could easily serve as an excuse to not attend. As it is, however, she’s left Driftmark in control of her good-brother and come here with other members of the house and Baela Targaryen. Even if she does think you dishonored Laena Targaryen by claiming Vhagar, she must hate the Princess and Prince Daemon for what they may have done to Ser Laenor.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Even if they didn’t have him killed, they dishonored him by marrying mere days after his death. It wasn’t the appropriate amount of time after Lady Laena’s death as well.”

“Their mistake is our gain,” you respond, smiling when he nods. “Princess Rhaenyra may not realize it but she is no longer the Realm’s Delight. They scorn her and, by choosing Daemon Targaryen as her consort, has maligned most of her allies, most crucially the Velaryons.”

“Lord Corlys has always been firm in his backing of Luke as heir,” Aemond hums. “Princess Rhaenys, however… I remember the funeral of both her children well. If Meleys had been near her at the time, I can only imagine the destruction she would have rained down.”

You glance back down at the summary in your hands. “Discuss it with Lord Otto. Princess Rhaenys would be instrumental going forward. The Queen has a tea arranged for Helaena and the other ladies of the court tomorrow. I can… speak with Lady Baela then, see if I can find out more about the state of House Velaryon.”

He quirks an eyebrow up at you. “From what I can recall from the few times I’ve met Lady Baela, she’s half feral. She resembles more of my uncle than she does a true lady.”

Your smile widens. “If she’s anything like your uncle, then she must resent the insults her stepmother and father have levied against her mother. Perhaps… she’s even resentful of the fact that the seat that is rightfully her’s will go to little Lord Strong instead.”

He laughs then, quietly, and you beam. “I’ll speak with Grandfather then. See if you’ll be able to manage your part. Take care that you don’t poke and prod at her anger and cause her to explode.”

“Hotheaded people tend to reveal more than they ever realize,” you reply, shrugging. “Either she will warm to me or she won’t. Either way, I imagine she’ll let something slip. I’m not frightened of dragons - I’m afraid I’ve spent too much time in their company to fear them.”

He leans back in his chair, looking you over. His uncovered eye gleams with mirth. “If you’re not frightened of dragons, my lady, why have you never accompanied me on Vhagar? I offered once.”

You shake your head immediately. “You offered two months after you first claimed her! I was only twelve!”

“You’re a woman grown now,” Aemond replies quickly, his voice low. “Would you ride her now?”

You meet his eyes and suddenly the silence of the library feels heavy, wrapping around you and holding you in place. His lips are curled at the corners and his eye is watching you carefully, burning you as if he was physically trailing his hands over you. The mad desire to reach over and grab his face and pull him close nearly takes over and you let out a shaky breath, trying to find control.

“Perhaps,” you say, moving as close to him as you dare. The heat of his body scalds you through the thick lining of your gown; somehow, you want more and more. “If you promise to make sure I land back on the ground after.”

“Vhagar respects nerve and cunning,” he responds, reaching over to pull the tax summary out of your grip. His hands brush your’s and you suck in a breath, praying that he didn’t notice. He smirks and you know you’ve failed. “You have that in shades, my lady. She wouldn’t harm you.”

You tap your fingers on the desk, looking down for a moment before you glance back up to meet his eyes. “Helaena once told me something of same. She said that Dreamfyre would never hurt me since Dreamfyre would never harm anyone she cares about.”

Aemond watches you and, for a moment, you think you’ve overstepped, but then he smiles at you, soft and gentle as if it’s only saved for you. “Helaena has always been wise where it counts.”

He turns back to his work and you reach for another sheet from his pile, if only to stop yourself from reaching for him.

——————————–

The hallway outside of the throne room is crowded with people and you fight to the urge to pick at your neckline or your sleeves, knowing that it was only the nervous energy affecting you. Your family was next to be called and, behind you, your cousins anxiously whisper with one another, your great uncles speaking to each other in low tones. As members of the main line, you, your uncle, and your father stand at the front. Your eyes scan the little you can of the throne room past the throng of people. What you can see is beautiful - large banners are strung up on the walls and beautiful flowers adorn the long feast tables.

Your eyes meet Lord Commander Harrold Westerling and he spares a smile for you, one you easily return. Johanna Lannister was his niece and, as her daughter, he was always kind to you even if he rarely crossed your path as he was usually assigned to the king. Finally, he looks over at your father and, after a nod, Jason begins to step forward.

“House Lannister, with their lord, Jason Lannister. Lord Paramount of the West and Master of Casterly Rock.” Ser Harrold’s voice rings loud and clear in the throne room though you can’t imagine much can hear him over the buzz of conversation. As one, your house all move as one, following behind Jason as he walks confidently down to the royal table in the shadow of the Iron Throne. Around you, some lords that notice bow their heads in greeting but the majority talk amongst themselves, ignoring your family’s entrance.

It rankles.

Lannisters used to be revered, you think, eying your father’s back as he continues forward. But now the Rock has five daughters and a babe for an heir. They think us weak and vulnerable.

You hold your head high, keeping your eyes locked on the royal table as you approach. A marriage to a dragon would help House Lannister reclaim its former glory but it would take more than that to ensure the realm remembered that the Lions of the Rock were still meant to be feared.

“Your grace, Lord Hand,” Jason greets, bowing low as he stops in front of the royal family. The rest of the Lannisters all follow behind and when you look back up, Aemond meets your eyes.

He nods his head in greeting and you nod back, eyes flitting over to his sister at his side. She looks pale, paler than usual, and in her hands, she grips a napkin, the fabric nearly tearing in her hands. She doesn’t notice you, her head bowed over her lap as if she’s in prayer. Next to her, the Queen Alicent speaks with your father, her eyes shifting over occasionally to check on her daughter.

The King is, predictably, absent. Otto Hightower sits in his place and you send a quick prayer to the Seven that Viserys coughs out a lung in his chambers while the welcoming feast takes place. It was the very least he deserved.

With a quick glance at Tyland, who nods his consent, you step away from your family and walk up the steps to stand in front of Helaena and Aemond, curtseying again when you slow to a stop.

“Your highnesses,” you murmur, eying Helaena with care. She doesn’t look as if she hears you, too preoccupied with shredding the napkin with her bare hands but you push forward. “I wanted to personally wish you, my princess, peace and prosperity in your upcoming marriage. I also wanted to vow that I would remain loyal at your side throughout it all.”

“Claws of gold, claws of green,” Helaena murmurs. “Shadows in the walls.”

You glance over at Aemond but he looks just as confused as you, carefully watching his sister for any sign that he needs to take her away from the feast for her comfort.

You move closer. “Helaena,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see House Tarbeck be announced. “I will not be able to accompany you during the feast but once the dancing starts, I’ll come up to help you if you need,”

She looks up suddenly, her eyes flashing. “A lioness will burn blood to protect her pride,” she insists, almost begging, and you stare back, helpless.

I’ll help you. I won’t let even Aegon hurt you if it’s in my power to stop it.

“I’ll be with her,” Aemond says to you quietly and you look at him with gratitude. “If you see me take her out, meet us in the hall outside the small council chamber. It should be quiet and empty there.”

You nod, wanting to say more, but your father calls your name and you’re forced to retreat with your family. Luckily, thanks to Tyland’s position as Master of Ships and your own closeness with the royal family, you aren’t seated far. On your side of the throne room, only the Hightowers are closer than you and, on the other side of the room, the Velaryon family sits, directly next to the royal table on Aegon and Daeron’s end.

You watch them carefully. Rhaenyra had unceremoniously rejected the wedding invitation, citing her pregnancy as a reason to stay on Dragonstone. It was an insult, a grievous one, to not even send her bastard sons or husband as an envoy. The cracks in House Targaryen grew ever wider and more obvious and, not for the first time in your life, you wonder why Viserys had named her heir if she wasn’t willing to dine with her own family to at least pretend there was peace amongst them. She needed allies - desperately. Viserys had yet to formally adjust succession laws and you had heard whispers everywhere you went about the King violating the laws that had allowed for his own ascension to the throne over Princess Rhaenys. Rhaenyra remained stubborn and blind in her pride, preferring to slight her half-brothers and sister rather than attempt to consolidate power to her claim.

Princess Rhaenys, however, seemed to be perfectly content with ignoring her good-daughter’s lead. Her house all sits around her, looking perfectly in place, as they talk cheerfully and calmly amongst themselves. At her side, however, Baela Targaryen sits, her head held high and her discomfort clear on her face.

You had heard that Baela had been separated from her twin and father, and shipped off to be fostered at Driftmark. You had also heard that it was Rhaenyra’s poor apology for marrying Daemon before her six months of mourning were up after Ser Laenor’s mysterious death, a grievous affront to House Velaryon. There were even rumors aplenty that the two had had Laenor killed to clear the way for their union, something that you knew had broken down the once firm alliance between the houses.

It was no small wonder that the Velaryons hadn’t snatched back Rhaena as well.

You feel a twing of pity for Baela before you remember that she had helped the Strong boys attack Aemond, that she had been the first to strike him, and you almost curl your lip in contempt. It’d be terribly funny, you think, for her to have helped Lucerys Velaryon take Aemond’s eye only to have him take something of even greater value from her - her own birthright, Driftmark.

Still, you had given Aemond your word. Baela Targaryen would have her comeuppance if you had anything to do with it but first, you needed to secure her and her grandmother to the side of the Hightowers.

Reaching for your goblet of wine, you take the tiniest of sips to settle yourself before turning back to your family. Jason has already charmed the Hightower ladies, all of them taken in by his easy grin and suave words. Across from him, Tyland is deep in a conversation with Lord Ormund Hightower, heads bowed towards each other as they talk about ships and lumber. You try to follow along with their conversation as best you can, eager to soak in more about your uncle’s position, but then the last house finishes greeting the royal family and all are seated.

A hush falls across the room as Otto Hightower rises to his feet, tall and striking in front of the Iron Throne. There’s little of his grandchildren in his features, save perhaps, his steely countenance. “In the King’s absence, he has asked me to speak for him and express his sincerest apologies for not being here in order to celebrate the union of Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena.”

Hidden safely in the crowd, you make a face at such a clear lie. Even if the King were in perfect health, you somehow doubt he would be willing to attend a celebration celebrating any child of his that wasn’t Rhaenyra. Aemond catches your eye and he smirks at the more than obvious look of scorn on your face.

“The crown would like to thank all of you and welcome you to the beginning of a weeklong celebration for the King’s eldest son and his youngest daughter. Together, they will serve the realm by cherishing the customs and laws of not only Old Valyria but of the Seven Kingdoms. May their example serve as a shining light for us all.” He claps his hands and servants pour out of the side doors, carrying trays and trays of endless food as the singers burst into song.

The room applauds his speech, cheering either his words or the beginning of the feast you don’t know, and you think about how it was not mere luck that had enabled Otto Hightower to climb to the most powerful seat in all of Westeros - maybe even including the Iron Throne. The King’s absence had given him the opportunity to throw the entire weight of the throne behind Aegon and Helaena and, by saying they were cherishing all of the customs of Westeros, had reminded nearly all the noble families of Westeros that, by rights, Aegon was the rightful heir and, in order to continue to uphold the laws they had vowed to protect, they needed to support his ascension.

It was a masterful move, you think, as a servant lays a plate in front of you. It was subtle enough that his true intentions could be denied but firm enough to cement his and his house’s stance on the matter. You glance up at the royal table and see Aegon, nearly as pale and withdrawn as his sister, firmly push away his plate in favor for reaching for another goblet. On the other side, Helaena, coaxed by her mother, has begun eating.

You can’t look for too long when one of your cousins calls your name and pulls you into a conversation about the most eligible bachelors in the Red Keep. More and more of your cousins join in and soon, you feel vaguely like a lecturing maester except your focus was the social climate of the royal court rather than medicine or astronomy. Your cousins all titter and giggle, eyes scanning the massive room to find the men that you were mentioning. They gossip and scheme and, when the plates are taken away and the center of the room made clear for dancing, they all prepare themselves to go search for potential husbands.

Before they can do that, however, a hush falls over the room as Aegon and Helaena rise from their places at the royal table and make their way toward the center. They both look impossibly pale, ethereal in the glow of the torches with their shining silver hair and glowing lilac eyes, and your cousins whisper about what a striking couple they make.

You clench your fists under the table.

The court musicians begin to play a song and the melancholic cry of a flute rises above it all to sing its melody. Aegon and Helaena face each other once they reach the center of the room and, after only a moment’s hesitation, they reach for each other and begin to dance.

It reminds you uncomfortably of when you were all children, before the betrothal between the two siblings had been announced, and Aegon and Aemond would join you and Helaena as dancing partners in your lessons. You remember how back then, during his good moods when he wasn’t distant and standoffish, Aegon would spin Helaena around the room, moving faster than you had ever seen him move in the training yard, and her shrieking laugh would echo in the room.

There is no laughter now. The two only stare at each other blankly, their faces cleared of emotion, as they move through the motions of the dance with no passion, no eagerness. The facade fools at least your cousins and they swoon about the two’s beauty. You want to hiss at them to shut up, to realize that this marriage was a mistake for all the good it would do to support their family, but instead, you bite your tongue, watching them dance resolutely.

Finally, the song ends and Aegon and Helaena stand together for one beat longer, long enough for it not to seem as if they were desperate to pull away from one another, before they separate. The room erupts into applause and, after a moment, you follow suit, clapping your hands. The dance floor is officially opened for the rest of the court and your cousins immediately disperse, seeking out the men they had narrowed in on earlier.

You nod your head at your father and uncle before heading after Helaena who has already retreated to the relative safety of the royal table. The rush of nobles to the dance floor crowd your way and you want to push and shove to get through quickly and only a lifetime of etiquette lessons keeps you from doing so. You just manage to escape the throng when an all too familiar figure steps in your way.

“My lady,” Victor Florent greets, bowing his head, and you fight the urge to roll your eye, instead smiling politely as you curtsey back. Since his arrival at court two years back, Victor Florent had become somewhat infatuated with you. At first, it had been flattering - you were young and he was five years older, somewhat handsome though the traditionally plain features of House Florent held him back. But then you had realized he was almost frighteningly dull. He seemed to think that you desired nothing more in the world than to find a good nobleman to father your children and to sit by a warm fireplace, stitching garments for your children until you were too old to move your fingers. The worst part was that he didn’t even mean it as an insult though, you took it as one to be sure.

He truly believed that you wanted that since he wanted that. He was the fourth son of Lord Erren Florent and his eldest brother’s wife had already given the Florents an heir and a spare. He would not rise higher than his station unless he fought to do so and he so clearly did not wish that. Because he thought that he, as a fourth son, was accepting of his lot in life, he could not ever consider that you, a third daughter, would ever want anything more.

He tended to trap you in conversations when he could and talk up his admittedly impressive achievements in tourneys and the sizable amount of gold he had squirreled away to support his future wife and any children she may have him. The fact that he meant to impress you, a Lannister who routinely wore jewelry that would cost him more than his savings could bear, with his funds was laughable. If you could have gotten away with it, you would have told him so.

As it stood, Uncle Tyland had made it clear to you that you weren’t meant to reject all the men who came to you straight out of hand, not even Victor. Men always desire that which other men crave and Prince Aemond, for all his talents and skills, is just a man at the end of the day, he told you and you had begrudgingly seen the logic in his reasoning. Aemond, however, did not seem to notice the rather strange popularity you had gained amongst the men of the court, never bringing it up to you. Plenty of other men have approached you though they always stopped rather quickly even if you were perfectly polite and cordial. A few had gone to your uncle to request more directly and he had always denied them, treating it as a fun game to find how he could insult them openly to their faces without them catching on. Victor Florent remained your only stubborn suitor.

“If I am permitted to say, my lady, you look like a vision tonight,” Victor says, eyes bright and cheeks rosy.

You stop yourself from replying ‘No, you are not permitted to say’, and instead you lower your eyes coquettishly to the ground. “Thank you, my lord. Now, if you would pardon me, I believe I promised Princess Helaena that I would find her once the dancing began.”

You move to side step him but Victor is that much faster, blocking your path. “Oh but wait, please. I was just about to ask you if you would do me the honor of being my first dance.”

He’s persistent, I’ll give him that you think and you apologetically shake your head. “I’m sorry, Ser, but I must attend to the princess and I do not know how long she may need me for. I would hardly wish to be holding you back from any of the other ladies in the court.” You look over and spot one of your cousins, standing against the wall as she speaks cheerfully to a girl you recognize from House Marbrand. “My cousin, the Lady Jocasta, is just over there. I’m sure she would be so ever pleased to dance with such as a talented knight such as yourself.”

His cheeks explode with red and it would be charming if he wasn’t blocking your way. “I will do so, my lady, if you ask, but really, I must ask that you save a dance for me at one of the other feasts?”

You smile tightly. “Of course, Ser Victor. I promise I will make every attempt to do so.”

Victor’s face brightens at that. “I saw that your father has come to the capitol as well. Perhaps we can arrange a tea or luncheon soon?”

You nearly roll your eyes. His intentions were clear - your uncle had denied him but perhaps your father would not. You could see his exact logic. Tyland only took care of you and was openly fond of you as his ward and niece. He would value your hand more than perhaps your father, responsible for four other dowries, would. “My father is a busy man, my lord,” you respond, a tad more chilly than you had intended but Victor does not seem to notice, still too star-struck by you. “I fear his schedule would be too busy for such a… meeting of small consequence. He is Warden of the West and I do not wish to take up his important time. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

This time, he allows you to walk away, hastily bidding you farewell, and you shoot up a prayer to the Seven that your father will not make any poor decisions if Victor chooses to approach him now when he was in his cups. Jason would never fail so miserably and give your hand away like that but, if Victor was somewhat intelligent about it, you fear that your father would agree to a meeting and that sounded like a miserable affair.

Quickly enough, you reach the royal table and nod in greeting at Aemond and Helaena as you quickly claim Queen Alicent’s chair that she has abandoned in order to walk around the room and socialize, sitting on the other side of Helaena.

Helaena sends you a shaky smile, still clearly out of her element. She seems moments away from bolting from the throne room and you don’t blame her. “Is Ser Victor still bothering you?”

You sigh, even as Aemond lets out a too-sharp laugh. “I managed to escape more quickly this time though perhaps not quick enough. He seems determined to get a meeting with my father before this week is out.”

“Would Lord Lannister be inclined to give him one?” Aemond asks, fingers tapping on the table.

You finally roll your eyes. “Perhaps if he catches him at the right moment. He’s a lovestruck fool if he thinks that my father or my mother would consent to such a match. I may be the third daughter of five but I’m still a Lannister. He offers me nothing but comfort he says.”

Aemond smirks. “You never did like the stories about giving up nobility for the arms of your lover.”

“Some of them make for pretty songs, my prince,” you say, looking back out at the crowded dance floor. You can’t make out Victor or Tyland but you can see Jason laughing in a corner, talking with Lord Tyrell. “But in reality, lords and ladies have duties to fulfill and their houses to honor. Lann the Clever did not win the Rock for me to disgrace it by throwing away all it has given me to live with a household knight. I was born and I live to serve and better my house and the Westerlands.”

Helaena nods, eyes shining. “Lions will soar high above the rest.”

You smile wryly. “Besides, if I marry poorly, Jeyne and Joy will not stand a chance in the marriage market. If for nothing else, I will seek a better match to better their odds.”

“We all have our duties,” Aemond agrees. “We all have our roles to fulfill. Shame that so many are comforted by what is easy.”

“Indeed,” you reply. “I’ll find a match, one that is worthy of my house and suits me.”

Aemond hums. “And what sort of marriage would suit you?”

You look over at him but his blazing eyes are already on you. Your breath catches and it’s only Helaena between the two of you that keeps you steady. “I will not suffer a fool or a craven as a husband,” you finally say, voice firm. “I will only marry a man whose ferocity matches the lions that live within the walls of Casterly Rock.”

A slow smile spreads on Aemond’s face. “I can’t imagine you submitting to any other.”

“Who said anything about submitting, my prince?” You fire back and he laughs in earnest. Even Helaena breaks out in giggles, shooting you a playfully scolding glance.

You watch them, grinning and your chest glowing warmly. A rush of emotion fills you and you almost want to burst out about how much you care for the both of them, in drastically different ways but both equally as deep. You’d do whatever it takes to keep them both safe and the intensity of your devotion would frighten you if it hadn’t been a fact that you had always known deep down since Driftmark.

More than customs and laws, more than any true desire to see Aegon on the throne, you want to give them the throne because it is what they deserve. Helaena was born to be a loving and gentle queen, a mother to all of the Seven Kingdoms. The world didn’t deserve it but it needed to see her as you saw her - the sweetest and kindest girl to ever live. Aemond was made to be a protector of the realms. If Aegon was king, he would be Hand and, just as Otto to Viserys, he would be the true power on the throne. Your children by him could inherit the real power, not a throne that you had realized meant less and less. You would make it so. Together, House Lannister and House Targaryen could create a power and forge a legacy that the kingdoms had not seen since Aegon the Conquerer.

You want to tell them both this. You want to tell them you’ll gift them both Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms because that, more than dowries and marriages and gold, is the greatest gift a Lannister could ever hope to give them but you don’t.

Instead, you smile at the both of them, wishing you could find the words to say it all to them.

“I think I will retire soon,” Helaena says softly, once her laughter has subsided. “It’s too… loud.”

You nod, already rising to your feet. “I can inform your mother.”

Aemond shakes his head, already out of his chair. “I can do that. It would hardly do for Ser Victor to accost you again, would it?”

A laugh escapes you. “Thank you, my prince, I would avoid that if I can. Take care that he doesn’t try to trap you in conversation about me as he has to my uncle several times before. I imagine he pestered my poor cousin Jocasta for details on me.”

His eyes brighten with that, suddenly eager. “I hope he does. I have plenty to tell him.”

“Please don’t maim someone at my wedding,” Helaena cuts in, frowning. “We are not Dothraki. A marriage is not blessed if someone dies during the festivities.”

“No, sister, I don’t imagine it is. I assume it’s quite the opposite,” Aemond teases, his face softening as he looks at her annoyed face. “I would not curse you like that.”

“You might curse Prince Aegon like that,” you retort and he shakes his head, giving you one final small smile before he descends from the royal table and joins the mesh of people. It’s easy enough to track him - he stands taller than most of the crowd and his silver hair is a beacon, even amongst the colorful attire of the court. You watch him for a few more moments but turn back to Helaena.

She’s smiling at you, mischievous and you wonder if it’s too late to take back your earlier mental praise of your character. “It seems that your wedding will go much more cheerfully than mine.”

You shake your head. “Is that another one of your strange predictions?” You ask, feeling a flash of anxiety at being laid bare in front of her like that. She had never hinted that she had noticed the relationship between you and her brother and your desire to nurture it to flourish into more.

Helaena’s smile only grows. “I don’t need that to see the truth.” She turns away to you to walk away and, as she does and you follow, she looks over her shoulder at you, eyes bright and glazed over. “Lions will ride dragons someday.”

You try your best not to trip.