#i knOW the last one hes looking at gabriel but STILL

[morinotsume]

His cheek twitched a little as her fingers lightly stroked over the scruffy edge of his jawline, the pleasant smile still resting on his lips. It seemed like neither of them could quite keep their hands to themselves. Her description was apt; in those days he wasn't much more than a cornered animal. Always itching for a fight, scratching and biting for something to call his own -- until her, anyway. Silver Fox had given his life some meaning, at least for a little while… at least until she was taken from him.

Then it was back to sorrow and rage and blood. A cycle he had been on ever since, even after his memories were also taken from him. A cycle he hoped he had just broken.

Oh, so that was why thinking of 'Old Blue' brought about that melancholy feeling… "He was a good old mutt," he said softly, fingers lightly running along her arm. "Didn't deserve to go out like that, but at least it was by somebody who cared about 'im. Didn't want 'im to suffer." His cheek rested against her crown.

The pad was resting on his leg, and he tapped the small, branching chart with the initials. "I want you to know. I have some kids. Only one came in the usual fashion, my boy Akihiro. I ran off to Japan for a while, trying to find myself… only wound up making some enemies and leaving a little something behind I didn't know about until he was grown and lookin' to settle a score. He's… better, now. Couple girls, Laura and Gabrielle. Weapon X made Laura… took some 'a my DNA they had on file, made themselves a test tube baby." He frowned. "Put her through the same process as they put me, tried to make her a killer. Only partially worked. She's working on those social skills. Gabrielle was cloned from her, some corporation wanted to try makin' a little army. She's… the only one left. The only good one of the bunch, they didn't have time to break her."

And her best friends are Deadpool and a land shark, but that's a bridge to cross at a later date.

"Aside from them, I have a foster daughter, Amiko. Her mom died on account 'a me, so I did the honorable thing and agreed to make sure she was taken care of. She's bein' raised by a woman I near married, Mariko… but that was never gonna last, she called it off." He sniffed softly, smiling to himself; now that he was rattling it all off it sounded so preposterous just how many youths seemed stuck in his orbit. "An' since I started runnin' with the X-Men I seem to keep takin' on apprentices and foundlings. First one was a li'l scrap named Kitty. Walks through walls, takes absolutely none of my nonsense. Then an orphan named Rogue, her touch absorbs life force 'an mimics mutations -- always too scared to let people close. Jus' recently got married to a fella called Gambit. 'Nother orphan, Jubilation. Her folks died in an accident right before she found out she had powers -- somethin' like superheated plasma. Looks like fireworks outta her hands. She's got a li'l squirt called Shogo."

Logan pinched his septum, looking somewhat playfully aggrieved. "And now that I say it all out loud… It doesn't sound as bad as I'm explainin' it, does it?"

Silver Fox smiled. She thought back to when they met— the very first time they met. The memory, though foggy, was slowly beginning to clear.

"The first thing I noticed about you were your hands," she reminisced. "To make sure you weren't holding any weapons. It is a little ironic..." after all, he didn't need to hold weapons, he had them inside his arms. But she hadn't known that back then. "Then, your mouth, you were baring your teeth in a way that made me think 'he's not a threat, he's tired of getting hurt'. Like a wolf with his leg in a trap."

Her hand went up to lightly brush her fingers against his jaw, feeling the scratchiness of stubble.

"I remember that... he ran off, he did that often– was wild like that, you wanted to go after him and I told you he would come back on his own," she remembered, her expression turning sad. "He did come back, but he had the hydrophobia– I think now they call it rabies, no? Nasty, incurable disease. We had to put him down."

Silver Fox was happy to tuck her head into the hollow of his shoulder as she moved on from the sad memory, thinking about a better one also involving her sweet old pup, back when he wasn't old.

"My first husband Trigo and I snuck into a military fort near the mountains. Those soldiers had been giving our tribe and the neighboring ones trouble, bringing disease and famine to our land. Something had to be done," she remembered that part of her life even before all the old memories resurfaced. It was easy to recall it. "Trigo was a mutant too, he could see the future of objects or people just by touching them. We used that to mess up the fort. Poisoned their water, killed their cattle, messed up their guns so they couldn't hunt."

Her brow furrowed. "Then... an old woman woke up and saw us," she continued. "She started screaming, I tried to make her be quiet, but I didn't speak English back then. She couldn't understand me. I had to kill her or she would have alerted the whole fort. Then, I noticed she had a pup with her. I asked Trigo to see what would become of the pup. The soldiers would have eaten him. So I took him, named him Ootskwiimi, Blue. Then he got old and became Old Blue thanks to you."

[tonydaddingham]

Good Omens S2 + Onion Headlines (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Aziraphale Special | Crowley Special )

+ bonus

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

I love this show and it means a lot to me,

and I feel disappointed and a little bit misled tbh by the choices they have made-

These are two thoughts that can coexist btw

[passionpluto]

@the-lost-messenger gave me a like, so I'm starting things off with an MLP unpopular opinion!

I really wish MLP developed its celebrity characters more. Like, within 9 seasons, Sapphire Shores, Coloratura, and Songbird Serenade have all been the Pony of Pop, which essentially makes the title meaningless. Yes, pop stars are disposable to some extent, but we still talk about Beyonce, Lady Gaga, and Sia (the closest inspirations I imagine to the three) even though new singers have come around since then. Sia a bit less so due to the whole Music can of worms, but the other two are still dominating long after their debuts! Gaga alone has had a huge renaissance with Gen Z lately, including things like the Bloody Mary Wednesday dance, which shows that pop stars don't just leave the public consciousness the minute a new one pops up. That's not getting into Save Britney, Kesha's lawsuit, or all the numerous other cases of fans going to bat for their favorite nostalgic pop stars.

So the life that's shown in MLP, where seemingly all stars have a few hits and then are replaced and never heard from again is depressing as hell to me. "Pony of Pop" should be a title for legends of the craft, akin to how "the King of Pop" is pretty much always used to refer exclusively to Michael Jackson, but instead it's just a commercial gimmick that leaves you the second someone else comes along who supposedly deserves it. I can't believe I'm saying this as a Coloratura stan, but no fucking wonder managers like Svengallop exist in this kinda framework!

This whole theory started because I was mad that Songbird Serenade became the third Pony of Pop just for a movie with no actual backstory behind it not that long after Coloratura took the spot (and also me being sad her VA never returned so we could hear more about her), but somehow it just blossomed into a rant about MLP celebrity culture and...yeah.

[alexanarchy999]

Thinking about the time my ex actually believed my alter ego was a whole ass person I was having an affair with 💀

[insufferablelust]

Aemond claiming you as his 🔥 SMUT

RAVISH [BYKA ZALDRĪZES] Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen Reader

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Bind by her betrothal to the rider of Vhagar, the daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen meets Aemond Targaryen to find herself getting more than she ever expected.

Words counted: 6.9k (My sincerest apologies)

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy breeding kink, Chocking, Claiming of maidenhood, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of blood (nothing graphic).

Hello! this is my first time posting my work for any HOTD characters, thank you to the anon who requested, and special thank you & dedication to Gabrielle my friend who helped me Beta this work❤️ My request is always open for HOTD characters. English is not my native language so bear with me. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

Rules to Request

You can feel the tightness of your evening attire wrapped around the slopes of your curves, with the long thick fabric that overlaps the bodice of your dress downwards. You stayed as still as you could when your ladies dressed you with much attentive eyes. Hands everywhere from the collar to the soles of your feet.

One of your ladies braid your silky silver hair loose but neatly, perfecting your looks for such occasions. One being the arrival of your uncle, the rider of the biggest dragon in all the realms, Aemond. You can feel the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage, albeit constricted by the tight layers of your attire, it does not deter your nervousness.

Not only is his arrival would have significance on the chess play of the throne of the dragons, but it would bear you consequences that you, in fact, are unable to escape this fate. The fate you have little to say against. The near last wish of the king to betroth you to unite the two sides of the Targaryen blood. Marriage of dragon and dragon, hoping to conceal the gaping wound left by Viserys decisions.

Neither your mother nor your father can truly save you now as you have made your decision to choose your destiny to try and serve the realm the only way you know how. The rising tension and possible bloodshed of cousins and nieces are no longer needed, you had hoped, if you agree to this arrangement. You have no other choice than to take his hand in marriage, even if it means that you have to sacrifice your own freedom and the ambiguous name of the true heir.

You have yet to set your feelings for the rider of Vhagar, he is not only an enigma to you but, more so, a mystery that you are both eager yet scared to fully unveil. There is a part of you know that there is a darkness that surrounds his being like no other, as your brothers have always told you. However, if you are to take his hand in marriage, you would have to force yourself to see the light in him, as you wished for the Seven to guide you in your unprecedented path.

“Princess, pardon me but Her Grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence at the gate, for Prince Aemond’s arrival.”

At once your shoulder straightened as you breathe out a heavy sigh, pulled out of your heavy thoughts by one of the servants. You smiled, and replied with a gentle “Of course, Lyana. I am to be done and head there right away.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you gathered your thoughts, and silently prayed to not only the Seven but to all old Gods of Valyria to gain you strength and will to overcome this behemoth of a challenge that is to be bestowed upon you in a matter of minutes. Opening your eyes again, you begin to shuffle your way out of the mighty wooden door, and off to your journey just outside of the Red Keep, on the gates overlooking Rhaenys Hill.

You’re accompanied by the two of your ladies as well as your trusted guard as you make your way down the castle. You can see in the distance the few people including the Queen, that has already stood patiently waiting for Prince Aemond’s arrival. You blushed as the foot of your dress sweep gracefully onto the stones below, your heart raced with anticipation of meeting your soon-to-be husband.

“Your Grace.”

You curtsied as you approached Queen Alicent, a sign of greeting and respect you have for the mother of the alleged battling heir to the throne. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you smiled as she gently touches your arm. Her smile is soft, casted as genuine, however, you can clearly see the tightness in them.

Alicent has always spared you more content than to others directly of your mother’s blood, your obedience to the crown, realm, and dedication to the Seven, helped her to overcome the dreaded raging crossfire between the two apparent heirs. Your demur soft upbringing, contented her enough to welcome you in a hug, albeit fabricated with quarrel.

“Princess, it is a delight for all of us to be blessed by your presence, in honor of the Prince, of course.” She replied, your lips set into a thin smile, as you bowed your head to Princess Helaena. Unlike to her brothers or your step aunt’s entourages, you have a knit bond with Helaena, having to endure the chaos of the brooding conflict in the throne, you both shared the same wish to cultivate what was once a peaceful reign and put an end to the family’s misery. You watched attentively as she rubbed her swollen belly, knowing full well the usurper successor of your mother’s rightful throne cradled in the form of the babe inside her body. Your eyes fleetingly meet hers as you continued to smile.

“As it was a delight for me to procure your request of my presence, Your Grace. I am of honored to be here for the Prince’s arrival.”

Alicent patted your arm one more time before you both overlook the land of King’s Landing, with the view of the Narrow Sea dances in your eyes. You were always amazed by the beauty of the realm, the blue greyish skies are your scenery, especially when you have the opportunity to ride on your dragon’s back. Oh how you wished you could just fly away to Dragonstone right about now and see your family again. Alas that too is wishful thinking.

You were suddenly halted of your longing when the sound of the bellowing of mighty Vhagar came to light, your eyes drifted to the source of such powerful force, as the silhouette of one of the greatest beast come into view. You admired her majestic wings from afar, eyes squinted at her fierceness, biting through the wind and seamlessly breaking through the clouds. As the dragon got closer to the Hill of Rhaenys, just outside the Dragonpit, you could also make out the rider of said beast.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Even from miles away from the ground, one would not miss the way he fiercely ride the biggest dragon alive known in all seven realms, a dragon he conquered to be his own, the dragon that came to him not when he was born yet when he was in his biggest pit of despair. Vhagar’s bond with her rider is as strong as ever, just like when she roamed the skies with Queen Visenya Targaryen once during Aegon the Conquerer’s reign.

You could make out the shadow of his being as he landed on Rhaenys Hill ever so smoothly, dismounting from the beast before patting her and giving her to the dragon keepers. You hissed in pain as you finally realized that you have been clenching your hand too tightly in front of you.

“Seven heavens dear, are you alright?”

You can hear the soft gasps, and murmurs around you, noticing how you clutched your fingertips together. You have not noticed the entire time that you had been so nervous, it numbed the pain of your even dull fingernails on the palm of your dainty hands.

“Gods.” You exclaimed feeling your palm stings, Queen Alicent noticed the whole thing, her eyebrows furrowed in worry, so did Princess Helaena. “Princess, may I accompany back to the keep? so we can clean your hands” Said Haelena softly, in which you find yourself grateful for.

A nod and curtsy came from you as you lower your head in shame, “I apologize Your Grace, My Princess, for I have unable to assuage my pain. May I please be excused to clean up?” Your voice is in the teetering edge of whimper, eyes too humiliated to stare into Alicent or Helaena’s eyes. If you could summon your dragon here and then, you would and fly away with her so you don’t ever have to come back to Kings Landing but the luck of the Seven was never truly behind you since the start.

“Very well, Princess. Please see to it that the maester is make aware of her condition, and let her heal properly.” Alicent replied sternly, her voice laced with bitter shame covered with fantom worries, and she encouraged Helaena to accompany you, stressing that it would not be much fuss that neither of you would be there to greet the one eyed Prince.

You curtsied once more, before turning away from the looks of all the ladies and lords that have awaited for the Prince’s arrival. You tried to drawn out the murmurs in the background as your hem of your dress shuffled across the cobblestone, making your way back inside the keep.

Haelena was patient as she accompanied you to the Maester’s healing chamber, making small comments so that they are well aware of your little incident. The blush on your cheeks has yet to subside nor does the pounding in your chest. The bodice strangling you from the outside, as your own fear strangled you from within.

“Niece, however are you feeling? has the pain subsided?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the soft ringing of Helaena’s voice, your mind eased a little hearing her, she is a soothing presence in the midst of your confusion. You may live in King’s Landing, however your soul have always been with your family, home is wherever they were, and that was Dragonstone. How you so badly wanted to be there.

“No need to be worrisome, muñus. By the will of the gods, I shall be fine. It was just my foolish mistake. I should have been more careful.” Aunt.

The last words that left your mouth were that of a whimper, small plea you made to yourself. A plea that you knew would save yourself and possibly the realm had you not make the same reckless mistake over and over again. Helaena whom has been pestering over the healers, sit down besides you. She might be your aunt by bloodline, but she is also closer to your age, knows the burden you carry with the looming threat of the crack in the lair of the dragons.

“Dare I ask what is occupying your mind, dear?”

There is a tinge of pleasant playfulness in her voice that didn’t fail to make you tilt your head and chuckled. Sighing, “None of the matter, My Princess, it is merely a big day for us all.” You looked straight into her eyes as you replied, knowing full well she would understand what does big day entailed.

“Jorrāeliarzys, a fierce dragon such as yourself need not be worry of any apprehension.”

She clicked her tongue at you like a mother scolding their child, you feel comforted by the warmth she displayed to you knowing full well all of this heap was due to her own brother’s arrival upon the keep. Aegon himself has not been able to sleep peacefully since he catches the news of his brother’s wind in Kings Landing.

“Thank you, Helaena. I shall pray that the Prince arrives at the gates safely—“

Your moment was cut short however when you both heard the huge door opening, revealing the two guards that stood in front. Your breath hitched slightly, when you took upon notice the presence whom have entered the healing chambers.

“Brother, welcome.” You quickly took back your hand as soon as the maester was done wrapping it up in a soft silk cloth, concealing your earlier omission from him. Your eyes had not dared to look into his, instead focusing them on the ground beneath your feet as the brother and sister embraced each other in front of you.

Had you not looked away, you would have seen that Aemond’s eyes have certainly never wavered from your presence, his attention was on you as soon as he arrived to the gates. Blood boiling with fury as he had heard what had happened to you. It was supposed to be a happy day, at the very least for him, as it is the day he was going to set eyes again on you. His future wife. The queen to his soon to be realm, the one whom he will fight for.

His eyes has yet to set ashore from your slightly trembling body, it only darted towards your enclasped hands in front of you. “Do you wish to retire to your chambers? you have had a long day on Vhagar’s back.” You can hear Haelena’s voice ring, you wanted so much to greet him as you are accustomed to, however you found your lips to be very hesitant. No sound came out.

“I shall retire later, sister. I wish to see the princess first as I have been made aware of her conditions.”

The smooth sound of his thick voice caresses you softly, yet it leaves a rough grip on its awakening, just like dragon scales. You tilted your head slightly, finally looking at him as you have been sought after.

“My Prince.” Your voice finally escaped your lips, breathing a shaky breath as your eyes locked with his. “Welcome back, the keep has not been the same without your presence.” You smiled gently, lips pressed into a thin line— there is so much resistance coming from you and he knows it.

Aemond then stepped forward, standing in front of you. You felt his dominating figure as he towered over yours, making you swallow the bile in your throat. Your breath, however, hitched in your throat as he tenderly brings your hands upwards, bending over a little to place a lingering kiss atop of the cloth covered skin. “How severely does it hurt, My Princess?”

Shivers come washing down on you when you felt his lips ever so gently grazes your skin, even through the cloth you can feel his warm breath, his attentive touch and words releases a bit of pressure off your shoulders. But you must not let your guard down as you are still standing in front of a man that has caused way too many mishaps for your house. The threatening presence to the house destruction, yet, all of that just gravitated yourself closer to him.

“It barely hurts… All is well, My Prince—“ You replied eyes darting between his patchless eye, and to Helaena behind him whom watching this whole encounter with a smile, “I apologize to have caused you much trouble upon your arrival day, for I swear to the Seven, I did not mean it.”

You can hear Aemond clicks his tongue in front of you, clearly unamused to you apologizing for something that causes you terrible pain. After all you are to be his wife, he would always protect you even if it meant from your own self. “By all the realms, you have no need to apologize-“ He tilted his head in what you can only take as a menacing smug gesture with a grin.

“I’ll take your hand in marriage in less than a moon time, and soon your hand would cradle my babe, I am merely seeking to even give you a new hand, if My Princess ever so wishes for one. Hm, ñuhys jorrāeliarzy?” My beloved.

That pulled a hefty gasp out of you, your hands that were still in his grasp turned so cold. Although it is not a new matter that the King and Queen has betrothed you both, it still feels like you’re reverted to how you are a shy maiden, not nearly as experienced as he was in anything. You have your mother’s wit as well as fierceness, your father’s attitude yet you always find yourself in another dichotomy altogether where you’re more demure than those of your siblings characters, Jacaerys is a wise leader, so as your other brothers, you— you are something else. Never wish for any power yet contented to defending your own.

“I suppose so, My Prince. However you needn’t to worry. I shall be fine by the time moonlight arrives.” You replied with trying hard to keep up with his intense eye contact. It was difficult for you to not drown in his lilac eyes, his silver hair, perfectly sculpted jaw, and even more domineering stance. You have wished sometimes that the Gods would just damn you in the Grand Sept for your lewd thoughts.

“Very well, little dragon. I shall see you during supper tonight, for I can not wait to have a feast.” The last words may not he spoken loudly as his lips were truly beside your ears, however, you can hear it as it was meant to be heard by you only. Your cheeks could not contain the warmth that rises to its surface, only spreading further down your neck— flustered and hot everywhere when the back of his nimble fingers grazes your cheeks twice.

“Whatever do you mean by—“

“We shall meet again, Princess.” With a tentative smirk and a chuckle, he put down your hand and left as he was never there, with his own clasped behind his back striding out of the healing chambers. Your mouth still agape as to what he meant, your heart raced as your body burned with desire. You can only wish to be spared tonight, as you wanted to keep your virtue until you wed.

—

The gold ring glimmered under the light of fire within your chambers, you keep twirling your hand to get a glimpse of the engraved Valyrian words across the ring itself. Byka zaldrīzes. The writings wrote, there is a small ruby gem on the top, adorned with small scales to imitate that of your dragon’s— Silverwing. Aemond had given this to you few moons ago, when the Queen and small council have decided to betroth you both. It is “A token for our betrothal, to remind you that I have promised in the name of the Seven and all Gods to solely devote myself to you.” He had said. Little dragon.

Your heart fluttered at the thought, even when everyone deemed him the cold even sometimes heartless prince, he had shown you slivers of his tender nature. You of course knew of what transpired during his childhood, you knew of his torment, and his tormentors— you were there to witness by your ears, always trying to comfort him afterwards out of goodwill. The memory of it all remained fresh in your memories. After the death of your younger brother, Lucerys, both side of the throne were cold as ice, sharp as Blackfyre— alas you too would fly to Dragonstone if not for the binding vows of the betrothal your mother had arranged when you were a mere child.

You see, you were supposed to marry Aegon, the usurper soon to be king, however that came short when she decided to wed Aegon with Helaena instead, and reconcile the betrothal the deal, with binding you to Aemond, instead. At the time you knew the reason why she were to wed Aegon because Alicent disapprove of your twin brother Jacaerys for his lack of Valyrian blood, or so Alicent claimed. 

You, however, was spared of the thoughts considering you were born with silver hair, striking that of your twin brother— mayhaps the reason why you were so fragile as a child, the Maester thought once that you could not have made it far to adulthood let alone reach your 15th name day. Your hand might be taken by a man you do not wish to wed out of loyalty to your mother but perhaps, unable to escape, this is the best possible outcome you could possibly get. 

Letting out a sigh, you smoothen the red and gold dress you’re wearing, the sheer fabric on the sleeve of your arms are giving you room to breathe despite the tightness of your attire. Few strands of your silver locks tied in a braid behind your head, whilst the rest flowed down your shoulders freely. The most beautiful maiden in the realm, the ladies often said. You admired yourself in the mirror, before hearing the door knock.

“Forgive me, Princess, but Her Grace, the Princes, and Princess have all waited for you in the dining hall.”

“Thank you, Lyana. I shall depart right away.”

Taking a deep breath, you shuffled your way out your chambers and into the dining hall. Two guards were stationed in front of the giant door, you nodded your head before they opened it. Taking a sight to your views, you can see the familiar faces of the Queen, your uncles and aunt. It seem that there is only five of you present, with one babe cradled inside Helaena.

“Your Grace, My Princes, and Princess.” You curtsied and bow your head before making your way inside. You locked eyes with that of Aemond’s, his lips curled into a grin as he set eyes on your beauty, before settling on the ring adorning your finger. You can also feel the heated gaze of Aegon interlocking between you and Aemond, Gods, you hope there will be no quarrel tonight between the two.

“Niece, it is a pleasure to be graced by your company again.” Came the voice of Prince Aegon with a smirk, already looking halfway intoxicated by the wine perched on his silver glass. “As it is mine, Your Highness.” you sat down on the chair, smiling at your hosts. “For I can see that my brother is assured to be… joyous.” Aegon chirped, you didn’t miss the glares Aemond threw his way.

“Has the remedy by the Maester treat your hand well, Princess?” Helaena asked you before giving his brother a chance to refute, you were thankful for her quick response. Darting to your palm, recognizing the piece of cloth it is still wrapped in. Trying not to grimace of your earlier humiliation, you just nodded your head, “Yes Princess, I cannot seldom express more of my gratitude for your kindness. It is treating very well.”

“That is a very good news indeed, now we shall feast on the supper.” Queen Alicent smiled at you, looking as uncomfortable with the brooding tension of her own sons— gesturing to the table in front of you. “How was the trip, Prince Aemond?” You tenderly tried to slice yourself a piece of roasted duck, only to hiss with the ever looming pain, sighing, you heard a click of the tongue belonging to none other than your betrothed.

“Allow me, niece.” Aemond voice cut through the silence as he offered to slice your meal for you. Warmth feels your cheeks once more as you pass your knife to him so he can cut it.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“It was pleasant enough, Vhagar was restless as she had to fly during a hailstorm, however, the journey felt too long knowing what awaits me in King’s Landing.”

The implication of his words made you look around, seeing his brother, the very man that threatens your mother’s throne snickered and with a huge grin adorning his face.

“My my, you have grown, brother, I did not know you could be so… feeble.” He swings his now empty cup so the servants can pour more wine inside. You inhaled sharply at his comment, knowing what awaits.

Shocks were thrown around the room as suddenly, the knife in the hand of your betrothed—belonging to you, are raised upon the soon to be Usurper’s King direction.

“I can and will have your tongue for that.” The air around you is thick with tension, “Aemond!” his mother gasped, a rivalry of heir successors that you have rarely seen in Dragonstone between your siblings, yet appear to be so common now in the grand pillars of the Keep.

“Enough—“

“You could do well try, if you can get past my guards, weakling.”

“Still hiding behind your guards? you are no man, merely a boy sent to be a fake king.” Aemond jabs, standing at his full height now— knife right against his brother’s neck. The clanking sound of the knight’s armor can be heard.

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.”

Next thing you heard was the loud banging of your knife on Aemond’s hands carved deep inside the table, he had stood up in a rage of fury, if looks could kill, Aegon Targaryen would be 12 feet under by now.

“I said enough!” You have in rare occasions see Queen Alicent be this mad even when her sons drove her crazy, let alone hear her voice this loud. The staring feast between Aegon and Aemond lasted even after the Queen told them to cut it off, looking at Helaena whom seem to be uncomfortable by the situation, you clear your throat and placed a soft hand gently on the back of Aemond’s shoulder.

“My Prince, perhaps I can show you, around the Keep? it has been long after all since you last set foot here.” You tried to keep yourself composed.

You carefully thread your words so neither brothers or queen for that matter, would raise the growing tension ever more. You bravely looked towards Aemond’s piercing stare at his drunken brother. A pregnant pause followed suit, before Aemond let out a scoff and turned around.

The screeching sound of his chair was loud in the silence that cut through the hall, he began walking away as you threw a curtsy before the Queen, and scurried after him outside the hall.

“Prince Aemond, please wait.” You tug the midway of your silk dress so you can follow his pace but he walked with as much rage as he did before. Slender and tall figure scurrying away. Hearing no reply coming from him, you let out a sound akin to a desperate whine.

“Dear will you please— Ah!”

You suddenly feel your back pressed against one of the walls inside the small hall not far from where the bed chambers were located. The walls felt cold to your back, your breathing was loud, so was his. Only then you registered that one of his hands were on your neck, wrapped around your delicate throat with enough pressure to block out some of the air when you inhale. The necklace given by your mother digging through your neck.

“You are quite the woman now, aren’t you, niece?” a teasing chuckle came soon after, “I am intrigued on how you have kept your innocence for all the time I have been gone, hm?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“W-what does that entail, Aemond?” your lips trembled when you speak of his name, you can feel his knees pressed to open the gap between your thighs— causing you to gasp and widen your soft lilac eyes.

“Still remains a maiden, Princess?” Aemond tilt his head, smiling throughout.

“I— of- of course, what are you so boldly implying?” You were taken aback by his implications, the stinging tears on your eyes are threatening to fall down along with the hoarseness of your voice.

“lykirī, issa jorrāeliarzys—“ scoffing in amusement, “I merely wanted to know how hard I can fuck you tonight.” You tried to wiggle away from his hold against your neck only for him to, once more, clicked his tongue at you as if you’re a disobedient child, and put his other hand on your waist to steady you against the wall— leaving no space to go. Calm, my love.

“ah ah, do not make a fuss now, sweet one. wouldn’t want to alert the whole castle on the doings of their virtuous Princess, now would we?”

You can feel his nimble fingers caresses the exposed skin of your hunched dress, the silk making way for his touches to graze yours ever so tantalizingly. “I have dreamed of this, —of you like this.” He muttered, “each time you soothed me after your cunt of brothers disrespected me.” you were still much shocked and flustered at his ministrations. Lips moving down to capture your neck, slowly moving down to the column of your now exposed throat.

“Aemond— not here…”

“Hush, dove. Now that you will soon be my wife, I shall have you whenever, wherever, and however I desire to.” His words are muttered against your skin, drawing soft breathy whines from you.

“Aemond, we should n-not… Please…” You tried to reason with him, even when your hips grinds against his pants covered knees— still nudged in the slope of your inner thighs. You felt your clothed bundle of pleasure rubbed ever so slightly against him when he further raised his knee against you. Making you whine in delight and frustration. “Gods! mmh, aem!”

“Seems to me that you wanted this as much as I do, little one.” He teased as he continues his quest, deep kisses left in his wake, “I shall claim you how I see fit, wouldn’t you say so, princess?”

You tried to answer him but only mewls and whimpers escaped out your lips as you continued to grind against his knees, meeting his now fasten pace, and the kisses on the sensitive spot on your neck just below your jaw is making you high. Gods, it feels like you’re set ablaze by thousands of dragon fire.

“Asked you a question, niece.”

“Yes! Gods yes! take me however you desire.” Your resolve has been breached once and for all, for you can not escape how intoxicating his touches are. You have been to wound up with all the realm duties, indulgence is not one for the Princess, however your desire is far too strong to resist your soon-to-be husband.

“You may not be a whore from the common streets, but you are my own, byka zaldrīzes.” Little dragon. “You will know how wrong my brother was after I fucked you.”

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.” The words exchanged by Aegon now rings on your ear.

Wanton moans escaped your lips as he continued his assault on your neck, he bent down a little to access the hem of your embroidery to push it down— you whined at the loss of his knee on your soaked cunt, “Why’d you st— oh gods!” you threw your head back against the wall at the feeling of his warm lips engulfing your now hardened buds.

“Patience.”

He muttered sharply before suckling on your teats, nipples darkened with blood rushing to them— all plump and Aemond salivated to the thought of them filling up when you, one day, will bear his child—children. “Cannot wait to fill you up, watch you swell with my babe.” He groaned, switching from one buds to the other— left you panting.

“Ah mm! can’t wait— oh! to carry your heir, my Prince…”

Whilst his mouth is preoccupied by your left nipple, his fingers are tweaking your other one, pulling and twisting— making you writhe in pleasure, you are sure that your small garment is soaked by now.

“You will never be able to escape me in our marit—“

You both were pulled from your pool of lust and pleasure when you heard the clanking noises of a knight’s armor rounding the corners of the Red Keep. Your eyes wide as you tried your best to push Aemond away only for him to raised an eyebrow and covered your mouth with his hand.

“Shh, do not make a sound, little one.”

You were about to protest when you felt his other hand trailing up your haunched hem, his feet parting your lets.

“nnh—“ you tried to speak against his hand, but he just let out a scoff and pushed you impossibly deeper to the wall.

“Rȳbās.” Obey.

Pleasure overtook you as Aemond’s fingers pushed aside your garment, fingers came in contact with the flushed slick soaked flesh of your needy cunt. “you are enjoying this.” He shake his head with so much amusement to his gleaming eyes and smirking lips—voice just above a whisper to make sure no one heard him, but if you have to guess, he wouldn’t care if someone catches you anyways.

“Here I though my little Princess is a pious woman, and here she is, with a dripping cunt begging me to fuck her.”

You heard the clanking sound moving away, noises slowly disappearing into the cold night. “I’d rather say you have been wanting me to do this, is that what you mean by showing me around?” He chuckled deeply, feeling your already flustered face, heated more.

You gasped a breath of relief when his hand unclasped your mouth, “N-no. I truly wanted to—“

“No need to lie, zaldrītsos. Your cunt tells me enough.” with that he gave your pearl of pleasure a slap, you jolted with a loud whine “Aemond, fuck!” Little dragon.

Your pleasure was short lived, however, when he wrapped his arm below your knees before pulling you up his shoulder. Hauled you up before strolling down the hall to where the royal apartment quarters sits.

“Put me down, Aemond!”

“Quiet.”

He playfully patted your arse as he make his way to what you presume to be his chamber. You did not get a good look if there were guards stationed outside, as you thought they would be— he is the prince after all, it’s not like he could care less.

Aemond slam the door shut, before he puts you down and you catch your breath.

“Aemond, what was th—mmmh!”

Your complaints were cut short when he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate manner, lips engulfing your own, as his tongue breached past to enter your hot cavern. His free hand move up to grasp your hair in a tight knot as he slowly move you back towards his bed, the back of your thighs hitting the edge.

His tongue continued to explore yours as his hands roam over your body, from your sensitive jugular to your taut breasts, belly and the conjuncture of your thighs. You let out a gasp of relief and shock as he pushed you to the bed.

Aemond wasted to time to flip you over and manhandled you so that you’re face down on the bed, your back in a perfect arch, silver locks flows beautifully— your arse is up in the air, whilst your feet dangled from the edge. Having ripped your evening attire off, you’re left bare. Cunt exposed. Needy, soaked, and desperate for his attention.

“Kostilus…” your begs are mere muffled mewls by now as he stood to admire your beauty. Gods. He has waited for this for a long time. Your betrothal might just be the cure to his raging agony. Please.

You heard a thud—“Oh Gods!” throwing your head back, as his cold fingers gathered your slick and run them along your folds, gently at first. You turn your head slightly to see him only to had your moans halted.

It’s Aemond, but he no longer wears his eye-patch. His sapphire gem shone bright under the moonlight that seeped through the night sky of King’s Landing. His soft lilac eyes gleamed too. You’re enthralled by his beauty, every marks and turns.

“My, my… you’re drenched. Desperate, aren’t we?” He scoffed at your agape mouth, feeling his 2 of his fingers entering your cunt with vigor, you closed your eyes tightly as you clench on him in instinct. “Ah ah, none of that, open them now, dove.”

Your eyes fluttered open as he commanded, “Look at me, Princess—“ you did with your eyes droopy and sinful lips parted in shallow breaths, “In less than a moon time, you shall find yourself in this situation, each night in our marital bed, ñuhys ābrazȳrys.” it delighted you, and heated the fire in your core to hear his devotion. My wife.

“Y-yes husband.”

Aemond groaned as he sped up his fingers, squelching noises now aloud bouncing off the walls, “Say it again for me.”

“ahh.. mmh! fuck— I am yours, husband, I promise by the Seven!” His fingers grazed your most sensitive spot, as his palm graze your pearl.

“After I claim you, I’d have anyone’s heads that dared to look at you as I do.” The silken sheets beneath your fingers now creased as you keep on clenching them, “Not that they will ever try, not after you begin to swell.” you arched your back with your toes curled, building release arose inside your belly, “with my seed, my babe, my heir.”

“fuck yes! yes yes! as many as you wish.. please, Aemond!”

“Come for me, little one. I’ll fill you up afterwards.” His free hand tangled itself on your silver locks to yank it back, your body shaking with your high so close, eyes teary with your lips wet, raw, and bitten. Truly a sight reserved only for the Gods.

One more brush of his palm against your pearl simultaneously with his fingers abusing your core, all of it was too much as you let out a silent scream, you came on his fingers.

“Good lord! Aemond…”

“Fuck, princess…” His fingers does not let up, however, and continues its assault inside your now gushing cunt. “You are Gods sent.” He whispered before pulling his fingers out slowly, watching you thrash on the bed, licking his fingers afterward.

“Beats the sweetest Westerosi wines.”

You have no more strength to reply as your legs felt like jelly, however the heat in your cheeks and race of your heart never cease, your eyes blink slowly when you heard the soft clad of his tunic, then followed by his cloth pants fell down the floor.

“Ae—mmh!” Toes curling at the feeling of the flushed hard tip of his cock gliding over your now oversensitive folds, “Ready, little dragon?” he teases the entrance of your weeping cunt as you whined,

“Just put it in— Oh!”

“You—fuck! you are greedy for a maiden.” He slowly thrust his tip inside you making you wince at the intrusion. “Aemond… it hurts…” you closed your eyes briefly for Aemond’s length is not to be messed with… long, width as thick, and curved on the tip. You wish you have more time in the future to admire him fully. “Shh shh, the pain will subside soon, little one, stay with me.”

To ease the pain, his fingers once again found haven on your clit, softly pressing as you jolt in overstimulation, “Mmnh.. please…” your body is writhing in both pain and pleasure, “Hells, you’re so tight.” He grunted, pushing inch by inch as your cunt accommodates his size, before pushing it in one thrust.

Your back arched deeply as your mouth agape, loud mewls and moans escapes them on a rapid rate, as you sure the guards will be able to hear by now. His free hand let go of your hand and move to place them on the slope of your hips before moving to pull almost every inch of his length, then slams it back down to the hilt.

“You f-fill me up so much, my prince.” Moans are now freely came out of your lips, as he continued his unrelenting pace, thrusts that are deep as well as it is hard, giving you no chance to catch your breath. You felt like you are flying with your dragon, its that high pleasure that are like no other. “and I shall do— fuck, again and again to ensure my seeds take.”

Though composed, you can hear his breathing shallower than usual, his thrusts are erratic yet remains a choking pace on you. Your fingers grasp the sheets so tightly, you’d have no excuse if the maids found it shred the next day. “My prince—“

“Close?” he can feel your cunt tightening, and holding a vice grip to his cock, the clench made him lose his mind. Gods, he’d stay inside of you all day if you let him, “I’d rather spend my life inside you than to deal with my cunt of a brother.”

“and… and i’d let you.” your voice are jagged, as your body thrown forward and backward following his pace, cock filling your walls— you can feel every vein and ridge, making their indents known to claim you. “What an obedient little wife you’d be.” he muttered with vigor, his hips never relenting to stop, always reaching your spot.

“Only for you, my—oh! my prince!” your peak is nearing, you can feel it so does he, fastening the fingers on your clit, “Come for me, little one. Do it.” He encouraged you, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder tenderly, “Avy jorrālean, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

“Av— aaah oh gods!” you threw your head back, back arching and, “Aemond!” you peak, coming from him harder than the last, body slumping to the sheets as your high took over. “Please… please, fill me up. put your h—heir inside of me.” You begged with the last ounce of your strength.

Your cunt clenching on his length so tight that he is so close to reaching his own release, “Gonna put a babe in you, gonna— fuck! watch you swell over and over again.” He groaned loudly, feeling himself getting lost on you, in you.

“Avy jorrālean.” You half whine and whispered, “fuck!” Aemond releases inside you, coming with his seed pumping you full, whispering your name over and over again, against the skin of your neck. I love you.

You both panted, he held your now full belly in his palm before sliding out of you gently— his actions so soft and light, a striking contrast to his earlier ministration. “Oh.. Princess..” He cooed tenderly at you when he flipped you over and look to where you’ve separated, eyes focusing on your mixed fluids. “stop looking its—“

“Ah ah, shush, little dragon. let me take care of you.” He kissed your lips once more before placing a soft pillow beneath your head.

There and then you knew that you might not marry the kindest man, nor the man you dream of in all seven realms, however, you knew in your lonely despair, being wed to Aemond would satisfy your affections. Soon thereafter, you marry and in less than a moon time your belly began to swell, and you can only wish to raise the babe with your husband in a safe unbroken house.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

maybe some fluff and smut w negan where reader has scars/self harm scars and reader is like looking at them thinking about the past and negan cheers her up😋 also he’s like aggresive in bed but is sweet outside all that. also maybe some aftercare included too

thank you so so much for requesting (and for your patience!) I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Post Whisperer War Negan x f!reader

Tags: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal thoughts, cunnilingus, rough sex, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

The voices around you blend into a monotonous rhythm. At this point in the community meeting, they shouldn’t be surprised people are beginning to zone out as they rehash the same talking points over and over again. 

You try to force yourself to focus but it’s a losing battle. The gist of it, as Negan so eloquently said to you the other day is “At this rate, the only thing that’ll be on the menu is regret, served with a big glass of desperation… but hey, if we gotta start cannibalising each other, I have no problem eating you out”. 

That last part earned him a scoff and quick slap to the arm.

Gathering in the heart of what was once the thriving community of Alexandria, the aftermath of the Whisperer's rampage is visible everywhere. Ruined homes, scattered debris of what was once vibrant greenhouses and the scarcity of resources cast a shadow of uncertainty over everyone.

“Gabriel is already working on the vegetable patches,” Rosita takes over “but we need food. Now. So I say we raid the old military base not too far from here. We can round some people up and scavenge through there in a few days time. Daryl’s out there now, seeing if it’s worth it”.

You sit quietly on the porch steps to one of the only houses left habitable, staring down at the scars that map your hands and lead up one of your forearms.

It’s been a while since you’ve truly stopped and studied each one, every line acting as a reminder of a time when pain felt like the only answer. 

You trace the lines with your fingertips, the blurry memories of these desperate moments slowly coming back to you. Back then, it was a release and the only way to stop the chaos swirling inside your mind. You remember the fleeting relief that followed, how it dulled the aching inside, if only for a moment. 

In a twisted way, it’s quite funny. You’ve fought so hard to stay alive since the dead began to rise and yet you would still do this, still hurt yourself.

How ironic.

You let out a small sigh, shifting your gaze up to watch Rosita again and pretend like you’re listening. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve self harmed or even had those thoughts. It feels dangerous to think about though, as if thinking back to those memories is like walking a tightrope of temptation. 

“If you’re interested in going to the military base, talk to me or Carol about it,” Rosita begins to finally wrap up the meeting “if not, then go speak to Gabriel or Aaron about helping with the rebuild. We gotta all work on this, no slacking. That’s the only way Alexandria can survive”. You nod vaguely to her words and thankfully, the meeting ends. 

As everyone disperses, you stay seated on the porch steps. Your mind feels foggy as it struggles to fully return to the present moment.

Thoughts of the past continue to tug at your consciousness, lingering like a bad smell. A sigh escapes your lips as you run a hand down your face, your eyes immediately going back to the scars that litter your arm. 

“You buffering or something?” The question completely catches you off guard, the deep voice coming from behind you. 

You already know who it is, of course you do, especially since you’re one of the only people he ever approaches— mainly because he knows you won’t tell him to fuck off… without good reason.

“I can’t just sit and enjoy the view?” you bat back, your prior feelings instantly getting masked with a facade of sass. 

Negan leaves the safety of the doorway now that it’s just the two of you. He grunts softly as he sits beside you, looking out at the remains of Alexandria.

 “... what view?” he asks dryly.

You roll your eyes. “Jackass” you curse him playfully.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, silently debating how to go about this. “You catch everything that was said in the meeting?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Negan doesn’t exactly understand why but he always finds himself drifting over to you, his gaze flickering between you and whatever he’s supposed to be paying attention to. And the past few minutes of the meeting has been a very obvious case of depressive daydreaming, something he’s seen you slip into every once in a while.

“Hm? Yeah,” you shrug casually, glancing over at him.

He waits, wondering if you’ll crack and open up on your own. When you don’t, he tries again.

“You got notes written out on the lines on your arm?” Negan gestures to your scars, being as blunt as possible about it. 

Automatically covering your arm with your other hand, you shoot him a glare. Negan has always somehow toed the line, knowing how direct he can be without upsetting you too much. 

He doesn't push; he simply tests the waters before backing down and letting you take the lead. Negan quickly put his hands up in surrender. He knew there was no easy way of mentioning your scars but the sooner he addresses it, the sooner you’ll talk. 

He’s expecting a slap or to be cussed out for mentioning it but instead, you stand and march into the house.

It’s your natural reaction to flee the second someone mentions your scars, something you’ve done even when others simply looked in the direction of your arm.

He groans out your name, instantly standing to follow. “Don’t just walk off,” he follows you inside, silently thankful that the house is empty, everyone else out working for the day “you know I didn’t mean it like that… well, you know I didn’t mean to offend ya”.

You pause, debating with yourself on what to do. You opt to look down at the floor, unsure how to feel about the sudden confrontation.

"Listen, I get it. I saw ya eyeballin’ your arm for half the meeting and not to get all mushy and shit, but those scars don’t define you” Negan's expression shifts, giving way to something more sincere. He steps closer, his tone dropping to a softer register.

“They’re not a mark of weakness or worthlessness or whatever bullshit you tell yourself. They show you survived. You’ve got grit and I admire that more than anything.” He reaches out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face toward his.

Despite every inch of you wanting to run again, you look up. The warmth in his eyes is undeniable and as much as you want to sink further into your defences, you can feel them slowly melt away.

You've always been a fortress in life, sturdy and unyielding. Every brick laid was a lesson learned, or another wound healed. 

You've perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length, never letting them see the cracks that run beneath the surface. In today’s world, vulnerability feels like a foreign language and one you've continuously avoided speaking.

“And if you ever need to remind yourself just how strong you are,” Negan continues, dropping his hand back down to his side “I’m right here, darlin’” 

You smile at his valiant offer and before you can stop it, you slowly open up “I just… sometimes, even when I don’t want to do those things again, I still think back to it. It’s like I’m reminiscing… and it can be hard to decipher whether my brain is thinking back because I want to be back there again or because I’m relieved I’m not…”. 

You brace for the impact, scanning for the possible retreat in Negan’s eyes but instead, you see nothing but understanding.

“You don’t think I feel like that now that I’m a supposed free man?” He asks softly “Even now, there’s still days —usually when I get the hundredth dose of stink eye thrown towards me— that I wonder if I’d be better off disappearing back into that cage. Even though I fuckin’ hated being in there!”. 

A strange sensation almost overwhelms you. The tension in your shoulders strangely ease and for the first time in ages, you're both not just survivors forced to endure; you're simply you and Negan is simply Negan.

Both of you flawed, real, and human. In his presence, vulnerability seems like less of a burden and more of a shared strength.

The air crackles with unspoken words and electric energy. You can almost taste the bittersweet mix of apprehension and desire. It's suffocating and you know you need an escape… but not by running away. 

As you look into his eyes, something shifts within you. The world outside fades and all that matters is in this room. Right now, you want to cast aside any doubts and just embrace the thrill. 

In a quick move, you step closer to him, invading his personal space. The sombre glint in Negan’s eyes transforms into something deeper.

Without thinking, you reach for him, fingers brushing against his arm and igniting a spark that sends a shiver through you both. Surprise flickers past his face before that signature grin breaks through, wide and knowing. 

You lean in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “This has all been… a lot…” you begin, unsure how exactly you’re about to say this “and I think… I think I might just need—“

Negan doesn’t give you time to finish that sentence, your urge towards him telling him all he needs to know.

In one swift motion, he pulls you flush against him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that ignites a wildfire of emotion. It’s a blend of urgency and tenderness, a collision of passion that leaves you breathless. 

It’s dizzying, the way he makes you feel seen, even if it’s just for this heartbeat in time. You let yourself be swept away, surrendering to the connection that pulls you both together.

“Oh I know exactly what you need“ Negan mutters against your lips.

You pull him into another bruising kiss before egging him on further “Then show me”.

That’s all Negan needs, your request allowing him to let loose. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he slowly begins moving forward, forcing you back until you hit against a table. He grabs your waist and lifts you up onto it, his hands immediately going for the zip of your pants.

He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “You just sit back,” he instructs, pleased as you lift your hips and let him tug down your jeans, not stopping until they’re on the floor beside him “let me take care of everything, baby”.

In an instant, Negan is kneeling between your thighs, pressing soft kisses along both legs. You can feel the warmth gather at your core, immediately wanting to welcome every inch of him.

“Ready to turn off your brain for a bit? Hmm?” Looking up at you through his eyelashes, Negan places a gentle kiss on your clothed pussy. 

He tries not to smirk as he feels your pussy pulsing desperately for him. Letting out a whimper, you nod.

“Ah ah ah,” Negan tuts, his tone as soft as it can be despite his scolding words “you made me wait a long fuckin’ time to show you a good time, you damn well know I’m not going to dig in until I hear you say it”. 

“Fuck– Negan, yes,” you say breathlessly, glancing at the door as you do “please, I want you”. Even with how exposed you are, your mind is too hazy to care about the possibility of someone walking in. All your attention is on Negan’s breath that’s only a mere few centimetres away from your soaked pussy.

Kissing you through your panties again, Negan hooks a finger around the fabric and slowly pulls it to the side, carefully revealing his gift.

Without a second thought, he buries his face between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you from squirming away. 

You gasp loudly, not expecting so much contact so quickly. You bite your lip to quieten your moans but it’s no use.

He looks up at you with his mouth full of your pussy, his eyes gleaming with desire. He sucks harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit. 

He releases his hands from your hips to rub your ass, pulling you against his face. Mumbling against your most sensitive area, a shiver runs up your spine as he compliments “Mmm, best fuckin’ meal I’ve had in years.”

Your legs quiver as you get closer to the edge, your core helplessly clenching around nothing as he eats you out. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. And the one thing Negan wants now more than anything is to taste your release on his tongue.  

“Come for me, doll” he growls encouraging, his stubble scratching your inner thighs. 

With a series of whines and moans for more, you let go.

He keeps his face between your thighs, lapping up your essence as you come undone. Negan waits until you've stopped convulsing before he lifts his head up, wiping your gleaming juices away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He grins up at you, happy with his work. “Well, you wanted me…” he trails off purposefully, taking a moment to plant a kiss on your leg before giving a slight tug at your panties that are still pushed out of the way “so now you’re gonna get me”.

Negan hurriedly unbuckles his pants as he stands, freeing his hard cock and giving himself a few strokes, precum already dripping from the tip. Working in tandem, you yank down your panties and drop them next to your jeans. 

Before your panties have time to hit the floor, Negan’s kissing you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, both of you as impatient at the other.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Negan continues to talk, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick entrance, “this the distraction you were looking for?”.

You speak only in moans, going wild at the sensation of his cock being so close to your centre and yet still so far away from actually being inside of you. 

He cups your chin, making you maintain eye contact as he presses you for an answer “I can’t hear you, sweetness”.

“Please, just do it” you pant, still not over your initial high.

He grins wider at your compliance and slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your body tenses as he stretches you out in a way that borders on painful. “Negan,” his name leaves your mouth as a haggard breath.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, you know you’re ready for it, you can take it” he coos, pushing all the way in before he stops to give you time to adjust.

He groans as he fully sheaths himself inside you, his hips flush against yours. Attempting to be a gentleman, Negan starts slow.

His eyes leave yours, watching as he gradually pulls out. He grunts satisfactorily, filling you to the hilt again. 

“Please,” you whimper “don’t tease”.

Negan chuckles, though his restraint is weakening “Patience is a virtue, darlin’”.

You tilt your head back, the slow force of Negan inside of you making your brain melt. All you want is already inside of you but it’s not enough. This isn’t a time for sweet love making. 

You want to be fucked, plain and simple.

“Yeah and you’re a vice so fuck me already,” you nudge the heel your foot against his ass, trying to make him speed up. Negan smirks again, his ego adoring your words.

The table creaks under you when he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room. 

"You can take it, can’t you? Fuck yeah, I know you can" He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to pound into you. 

You nod desperately, wanting to prove to him that you can take all he’s got to give. He hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wider and increasing his depth.

His movements become harder and faster, making sure you can feel every inch of him. You yearn it, trying desperately to shimmy your hips on the table to meet each thrust.

Negan pistons into you like a man on a mission, burying his face in by your neck as his hands frantically begin to explore your body. Negan knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take this opportunity to finally see your tits. 

His hands push up your shirt, hiking it up in a hurry as your bra comes into view. “Wanna introduce me to the girls?” He suggests, his breath coming out in hot pants against your neck.

At this moment, you want everything just as much as he does. Reaching down, you lift up your bra just enough for your breasts to come free.

Even though there’s no rush, it feels as though you don’t have the time to take off your bra properly, feeling that coil tighten in your lower stomach.

His eyes drop to your chest, and he licks his lips hungrily. “Goddamn, just when I thought you couldn’t get any better” Negan cups your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fuck into you. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Oh my fucking—” you groan out, interupting yourself with another moan. You grip the edge of the table enough to turn your knuckles white, your whole body feeling overwhelmed.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop and straightens up, his thumb trailing down to your swollen clit.

“C’mon darlin’, I need to feel ya clench around me,” Negan slams into you, his rhythm erratic as he nears his own release “one more time, baby, come for me”. 

Your body convulses as it hits you. Gasps morph into a wave of quick, sharp pants as you clutch Negan any way you can. Feeling your pussy clamp down on his shaft, Negan’s hips sputter to a stop as the contractions send him over the edge with you.

It takes all of Negan’s willpower not to stay exactly how he is; with his dick buried deep inside of you. 

But he knows better and quickly pulls out, releasing his load onto your inner thigh instead. He has to nuzzle his face in by your neck, silencing himself the best he can. The last thing either of you need is Negan to get loud and attract people from outside.

The sound of your mixed breaths fill the room as you both come back to your senses. You look down at the mess on your thigh, wondering how much longer you both have until someone comes looking for one of you. 

“You know what?” Negan breaks the silence, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as he moves to look at you “I think I like it when you open up”. He nudges your legs, a deep chuckling escaping him.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes “and get me a towel or something”. He licks his lips, his mind already wondering what your next session will be like, subtly noting how much he likes hearing you order him around. 

He nods “Yes ma’am”.

Leaning down, Negan searches the back pockets of his pants before pulling out a small handkerchief.

“Now,” he announces as he gently wipes his cum off of your thigh “my cum rag can become ours”.

“Negan!” You exclaim, your hands busy yanking your bra and shirt back down to push the rag away from you “Don’t use your dirty cum rag on me!!”. 

Negan chuckles, his smile alone keeping your annoyance at bay. “I’m just fucking with ya, it ain’t a cum rag,” he wipes the last drop of himself off your leg “but now that we’ve christened it as a cum rag, I guess that means we'll have to use it again”. 

Negan winks as if you don’t get the obvious insinuation and before you can object, he kisses you. You’re quick to reciprocate, knowing that there’s no way you’d turn down an opportunity like this again.

A faint smirk graces his face as Negan pulls back, pleased with the fact that you returned his kiss.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Negan clears his throat “But seriously, next time you need to talk to somebody, or open up them legs, I’m your man”. 

You smile at the sincerity of his words, knowing he’s completely and utterly serious about both offers. 

Thinking for a moment, you agree “I will”. 

He holds up his pinky “Promise? And then I’ll help you into your jeans?”. 

You scoff as if he’s inconveniencing you by making you a pinky promise but you both know you appreciate the gesture. Lifting your pinky up to his, they hook together.

“Promise”.

And with that, Negan steals one more kiss before helping you back into your jeans.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 6

content warning: fluff!, mentions of alcohol, uses of Spanish (if wrong, PLEASE correct me), boy-mom tendencies coming from Conchata, judging coming once again from Conchata (she means well, I promise. it just takes her a while to get there), mentions/pics of food, some PDA, it gets a little suggestive so MINORS BEWARE, Tyler + Nancy + Kron are all white for those who don’t know, Miggy still looks like ATSV Mig though, this is probably the LAST time that sorority party is mentioned, some body insecurity, Kron is a moron + freak, some violence at the end

word count: 8.5k, kinda proofread (no comment 😒 just buckle up)

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GymRat!Miguel who hopes his package makes it to you in time for New Year's. He hates that he can't just come and see you. He wanted to be with you as the clock struck 12, he always wanted to have a New Year's kiss with someone, but it felt a little silly to drop everything a drive to you. January was soon, which meant that the new semester started soon. He wasn't one to count down the days until school started, but if it meant he could be physically near you again, he would mark off the days in bright red on every calendar in the house.

GymRat!Miguel who records himself counting down with his rambunctious family in his grandma's backyard. His baby cousins are jumping up and down, throwing Pop-Its on the ground just giggling away. His aunts and uncles are yelling loudly. His mom and dad are huddled up together, his dad kissing his mom's cheeks as she laughs. George is a little drunk so he's feeling a bit more brave than usual. Gabriel and Dana are sitting in a corner, lighting sparklers to pass out to his relatives.

GymRat!Miguel who sends the video to you as soon as he can. You were probably busy with your own family so he didn't expect you to reply right away. He watched the fireworks that his uncle set off. A little dangerous with the trees being so close, but amazing nonetheless. His mom and dad gave him a group hug, then started dancing and singing loudly to Selena. He didn't even look to his Gabriel who he knew was kissing Dana's face off. He really missed you.

GymRat!Miguel who confessed everything to his Abuela as soon as she opened her mouth to say "¿Qué pasa, mi nietecito?"

He sat at the end of the table next to her, sniffling away as he rambled about everything that had happened the past semester. The late nights, the early mornings, his roommate that didn't dry off in the shower sometimes, his failed party, his missed alarms, group projects, and most importantly you.

He told her how much he missed you and how silly he felt. She rubbed his hands and reminded him that love has no bounds. She jokes about all the times she stayed with his abuelo after the stupid things he's done.

Who proposes without a ring?

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at his Abuela's stories of her younger love life. They trade stories back and forth, his stories mostly of you because you're his first true girlfriend. His Abuela listens with glee, happy to see her Miguelito so joyful. She warns him not to be like his abuelo in terms of common sense, but to be like him when it comes to how much love he has to give.

GymRat!Miguel who is eager to show her a picture of you. She is the second family member to see you outside of Gabriel, as she is one of the family members that he is closest to.

She was the one he cried to when the truth of his parent's past life unfolded. She was the one he went to when his mom berated him for the smallest things. She was the one he went to when he felt that he was competing to be seen, but he didn't want Gabriel to notice his pain. She was his everything.

He opens his growing folder full of pictures of you and scrolls to one of you during one of your library dates. You're looking up at him with the cutest smile on your face. Your glasses are falling a little bit and there's a half eaten granola bar in your hand. You were studying for an art history exam and complaining about the influx of European artists over every other continent. He had told an art joke he found on the back of a laffy taffy.

"What did the art thief say to the museum curator?" he said, getting his camera ready.

"What?" you ask, highlighting a passage.

"Give me all your Monet," he said, a snicker following.

You turn to him quickly with a giggle, "That's so silly."

"It made you laugh, though," he said, snapping a picture.

You were really sweet that day. Looked sweet, smelled sweet, and even your kisses tasted like strawberries.

His Abuela took the phone in her hands, pulling her glasses down to look at you.

A smile grows on her face as she sighs, "¡Muy hermosa!"

Miguel's heart soars. He is glad that she sees what he sees.

Of course, she wants to see you. She compliments you profusely, praising Miguel for finding such a beautiful girl. Miguel promises to bring you by one day, happy to be the bridge that connects to women who bring him such joy.

GymRat!Miguel whose bubble bursts when his mom comes up from behind, asking what he and his Abuela are talking about. He quickly brings his phone back to his chest and looks up at his mom.

“Uh, we were just talking about school,” Miguel answers.

“What are you hiding, mijo?” Conchata asks, raising her eyebrows as she tilts her head. There was a warning tone in her voice, daring him to lie.

“You’re always fussing at him! It’s New Year's, Conchata, let him relax,” his Abuela sighed.

“Ma! He is hiding something,” she says, voice getting sharper. “He’s been strange ever since he got home. What is it? Háblame.”

Miguel just let the air go from his lungs.

“We were talking about my girlfriend. I was just showing Abuela some pictures,” Miguel said, tone quiet as ever.

“That’s it? Well, can I see them?”

Miguel hesitated, not knowing how his mom would react. She could be a bit of what people described as a “boy-mom.” Despite all of the years of her nitpicking and nagging him, she still had her moments where she thought others were too good for him.

Miguel hesitantly showed her the same picture. She quickly yanked the phone and looked intensely, pinching the screen in and out.

Then she started scrolling. It would have been fine, but there were still some of the scanned Christmas photos of you that he didn’t move to his locked folder yet.

“Hey!” he said, jumping up to grab his phone. He quickly uses his height to his advantage and gets it back in his hands while his mom tried her best to keep scrolling. He looks at the photo she stopped on, one more swipe and she would see what was only meant for him. “Seriously, Ma?”

“I just wanted to see,” she said, straightening her blouse. “She’s- nice.”

Her tone was nonchalant, sarcastic.

“Nice? That’s it?” Miguel ask with his mouth turned up.

“Sí. What does she study?”

“Art.”

“Hm,” she says. “I guess you’ll be the breadwinner. If it goes that far.”

“Ma, please don’t start this,” Miguel says, feeling a headache coming on. “I already told you that this was a new relationship. One that has lasted this long for me. And there are plenty of jobs you can get with an art major!”

Conchata made a face as to say ‘really?’ with her arms folded.

Miguel looked to his Abuela with an exasperated look in his eyes.

“They are hard to get, but the world cannot move without art or love,” his Abuela says, taking Miguel’s hand in both of hers.

“Love?!” Conchata just about shouts.

Miguel just groans.

GymRat!Miguel who stomps over and yanks up Gabriel by his shirt, disconnecting him from Dana, and dragging him inside.

“Gabri. A dinner party? Really?!” Miguel huffs out, irritation high in his voice.

“Where’s ‘Hi. Hello! How are you?’ No ‘Happy New Year’s Eve, Gabriel. My darling baby brother who I love!’ Just using your sheer strength against me. Removing me from the safe arms of my girlfriend. Just rude,” Gabriel turns his nose up and folds his arms.

“You running your mouth is all the answer I need,” Miguel says as he flicks Gabriel on the head. He yelps out a cartoonish ‘yeowch!’ “Why did mom just tell me about a dinner set up to meet my girlfriend?”

“Um! Well, you see, things happen when you’re enjoying a lovely ski resort!”

Miguel just geared his hand up for another flick.

“And!” Gabriel says, leaning back with his hands up. “Sometimes little brothers have to cover up for their big brothers when they almost punch the shit out of their half brothers!”

“So you tell them to throw a dinner?”

“No! That’s not even how I roll. All I said was that you were probably talking to her. Blame Nancy. And Tyler. And ma! Once Nancy suggested it, ma was ready to tag along. She’s been trying to stick her nose into your life for years.”

Miguel’s shoulders just slumped.

He pulled Gabriel in for a hug, “Sorry Gabri. I should have just asked you. She was just being really weird about the whole thing.”

“It’s ok, nobody knows your heart like me. But, do you really think it’ll be that bad?”

Miguel pondered that question.

“Hopefully not. I won’t let it get awful. She doesn’t deserve that,” Miguel says.

“Let’s look at the bright side. Tyler likes her. Dad likes her. Nancy’s opinion doesn’t really matter, but she likes anything Tyler likes. Kron is an idiot. And I definitely like her.”

Miguel clicks his teeth.

“Oh don’t make that face, Miguel. You know you love me!” he says and puckers at Miguel’s face.

“Ew, get away from me. You were just slobbering all over Dana,” Miguel says as he pushes Gabriel away and turns to go to his designated room.

“You’re so mean!”

GymRat!Miguel who answers within seconds when you call as he sits on the bed.

“Happy New Year!” you sing out, dragging the ‘year’ in a cute melody.

“Happy New Year, baby,” he says, smiling at your cuteness.

“I got your package!” you say, fighting with the phone to stay straight. You finally get it steady and start backing up. “It’s so comfy! The chest part is a little snug, though. Nothing too crazy.”

You stand in the middle of the camera. Miguel had delivered a bunch of his old sweaters to you after you mentioned wanting to snuggle during one of your FaceTimes.

He did everything to make sure they smelled like him. He used a specific detergent. He sprayed them in his cologne. He even wore them each for a set amount of time.

The one you were wearing was merchandise from when Gabriel decided he wanted to play basketball. You turned around and Miguel was met with ‘O’Hara’ printed across the back and your cute little shorts.

“Do you like it?” Miguel asked, internally freaking out. You’re wearing his clothes and his name.

“I love it!” you say, grabbing the phone and climbing onto your bed. “They smell like you too. I feel nice and warm.”

You brought the neck of the shirt up over your nose, eyes smiling at the screen. You were going to be the death of him. He’s become jealous over cotton and wool.

“Can I see it one more time?” Miguel asked, eyes heavy as he sat back against the headboard.

You popped up from your cocoon of his sweater and bit your lip, “Is this riling you up, Miguel?”

“More than you know. How could it not? My girl is wearing my clothes,” Miguel replied earnestly.

He heard you let out a soft noise, embarrassed as you stretched the phone out.

“Yeah, I’m really loving this,” Miguel said, voice lower.

You brought the phone back to your heated face, still not used to that type of response from Miguel.

“Don’t hide from me, cariño,” Miguel said, watching as you fanned your face. “Let me see you.”

“Cariño?!” you say, heart beating even more.

“Are you not my sweetie? My baby? My girl?” he asked, looking at you playfully.

You just rolled to the side and let out a huff.

“You’re teasing me,” you say, voice just above a whisper.

“Not teasing. Just admiring,” he says, eyes twinkling.

You bite the nail of your thumb, “I have an old selfie stick. I can go get that if you want to see more.”

“Please!” Miguel all but shouts.

You giggle as you run to get it out the of box. Miguel’s anticipating the show as he listens to you throwing things across the room.

When you get your phone high in the sky to pan over your body, it takes everything within Miguel to not start howling. Your legs were glowing, thighs full and ready for him to grip and bite. Your shorts were squeezing your hips. Most importantly, his sweater was stretching across your chest.

“God, I wish I was there,” Miguel groaned, rearranging his pants. His excitement was making his clothes feel uncomfortable.

“Me too,” you say, panning the camera back to your face. “I want my muscle bear.”

“Yeah?” Miguel asked, smiling at the screen. He loved it when you called him that.

“Mm hm,” you reply, picking at a loose thread. “I told my mom about us. She was getting worried and said I was walking around the house like a ghost. She’s excited to meet you.”

Miguel sat up straight, heart dropping. That was a stark difference from his mom.

“That’s great! When does she want to meet? I need to get her a gift. Is she still looking for that travel bag set? Or do you think she would prefer a meal?”

“Miguel-”

“I can ask my Abuela to help me make something. Does she have a favorite restaurant? Should I wear a suit? Business casual, maybe.”

“Mig-”

“I need to get her some flowers too. Does she have a favorite flower? Oh my gosh. Is she allergic?”

“Miguel!” you speak up, laughing at his state. “Calm down. It won’t happen until like, next month. You have enough time to prepare.”

“Baby, don’t laugh! This is important. I have to make a good impression,” Miguel pouts.

“And you will! I’ve already told her so much about you.”

He actively gulps, “Even the party?”

“Ok, that didn’t go over too well. She ran her mouth to my dad about that. But! She doesn’t blame you,” you say, calming tone.

“She hates me. Your dad hates me. How am I going to win them over?” he says, dramatically bopping his head against the wall.

“Miguel,” you sigh. He just groans out shaking his head from side to side. “Baby, look at me.”

The cursed baby card had Miguel at attention.

“You’re sweet. You’re handsome. You’re intelligent. And you’re charming. I promise you, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” you say, reassuring him.

Miguel nods slowly.

“You think I’m handsome?” smile creeping back.

“Oh my god. Is that all you got from that?”

“No! But you called me handsome, so I have to lock that away.”

“You also have himbo tendencies,” you respond.

“All the better to fawn over you with, cariño.”

GymRat!Miguel who curses when the pictures of you in his sweater come in shortly after you in the call. One of them is you on your stomach with the ‘O’Hara’ on full display with your underwear and ass peaking out.

He sets it as one of his wallpapers in record speed.

“How do you expect me to NOT be a himbo?”

“Feral”

“Oh my god. 😭”

GymRat!Miguel who does his same pick up and spin you around number when he sees you a couple of weeks later. You were glowing and giggly.

GymRat!Miguel who casually greets the people in the dorm lobby as he carries you to your dorm room. You didn’t even fight him, as he was always adamant with PDA. You just put your head in his neck and didn’t look up until you were at your door.

You saw the red face of one of the girls living on your hall as Miguel kissed your neck. You quickly averted your gaze, squirming so he could hurry up and open the door. Miguel just assumed you were hungry for more and took even longer to open the door.

“Mig-” you say, cut off as he groans into your skin. “The door, please.”

Your legs wrap around him tighter as he turns to where you were just looking.

“Sorry about that! Got a little excited,” he says to the girl with a wink. She turns even darker and it looks as if steam is about to escape her head as she scurries down the hallway.

“Rude.”

“Miguel!”

“What? She could have said something instead of just watching us.”

“Just please. Open the door, you goof.”

“Yes ma’am!”

GymRat!Miguel who is ecstatic that Jess won’t be there until tomorrow afternoon. He lays you out on your bed and hovers over you.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he says and drops his body on yours. You let out an ‘oof’ relishing in his dead weight.

“I missed you too, Miggy,” you say, patting his head. “Enough to be on my bed with outside clothes on.”

Miguel looks at you, sheepish. “I’ll help you wash them. And pay for it.”

“Yeah you will. But for now,” you pull him close and bring his lips to yours. “Let’s enjoy this.”

He loses track of time and kisses you until your stomach growls for dinner.

GymRat!Miguel who goes all out for Valentine’s Day. He opted to buy you one of the Valentine’s Day packages that the school offers, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt.

He sets up a small breakfast for you and Jess for Galentine’s as a gift for having his back. He had MJ deliver it to you, as he still had class that morning.

He sent you a photo later after his workout, one of your paper kisses on his cheek as he stood in the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You almost screamed in the middle of your studio class.

To end the day, the two of you did a couple challenge in Target. Once back in his car, you both gave each other gifts.

You almost cry when his “something that reminds me of you” gift is in fact not something from Target. It’s a cute bunny necklace inside of a handmade box.

“Miguel! This is so beautiful,” you say, in awe at everything.

He puts the necklace on for you, “A bunny for my baby.”

You devour him with kisses in the Target parking lot.

GymRat!Miguel who’s sweating bullets when your mom comes to visit later that month. He woke up with his stomach rocking. He couldn’t even look Peter in the eye as he stepped out of the bathroom, apologizing profusely.

“Dude, you might not make it out of here if you don’t calm down,” Peter says while lighting a candle he definitely wasn’t supposed to have in the dorms.

“I know, I know. It’s like my body can sense the bad vibes from my brain,” Miguel says, gathering everything for today’s lunch. “I haven’t even eaten anything today.”

“Cheer up, O’Hara,” Peter says as he pats his back. “At least you’re not meeting her parents’ eyes while you’re humping their daughter in their guest bathroom!”

“Jesus, Parker.”

GymRat!Miguel who laughs when he sees Gabriel’s texts. He’s sitting in the parking lot of the meeting location an hour and a half early.

“Ik your ass has the bubble guts”

“Remember to breathe”

“And that the dinner with our mom might be waaaay worse”

“Like”

“Miles worse”

“Thanks for the words Gabri”

“Real touching”

“So you’re saying I should become a motivational speaker?”

“Got it”

“Not quite!”

GymRat!Miguel who runs open the restaurant door when sees you from the waiting area. He’s so freaking nervous.

“Hello!” he says, holding the door for you both. Your mom gives him a quick thank you as you all step inside.

“I remember you saying he was tall, but I didn’t know he was this tall!” your mom says to you as she holds Miguel’s arms.

You introduce them, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara. Miguel, this is my mom.”

Miguel almost sputters as you casually call him your boyfriend.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Miguel says, handing her a gift bag and you both a bouquet of flowers. “I have heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” your mother says, shocked at the gifts. “And what a gentleman. You didn’t have to get me these!”

“Please,” Miguel says. “I needed to get something for the woman who brought such a gift to this world for me.”

If Miguel still wasn’t so nervous, he’d chuckle at the twin surprised looks you and your mom were sporting.

GymRat!Miguel who hits it off with your mom quite well. He’s a bit shaky at first, stuttering over simple phrases when the conversations were first starting. You put a hand on his thigh, rubbing your thumb to bring him reassurance. From then on, he just let go.

He’s able to chat about everything she brings up. Even the obscure TV show that she loves to watch. You’re highly impressed with how good he’s doing.

He even apologizes smoothly when the sorority party is brought up. Your mom reaches across the table to hold his hand and tells him that she is proud of him for owning up to his mistakes and taking a stand.

She heads to your car first, giving you two some private time.

“You think that went ok?” Miguel asked, finally relaxing his shoulders.

“I think that it went swimmingly. I also think that I want to kiss you.”

Miguel turns to you, blush high on his cheeks and neck as you walk your fingers up his thigh. You give him a peck on the cheek and say you have to drive your mom back to her car.

Miguel walks you out and waves you all goodbye as you leave the parking lot.

“He is such a handsome young man! Charming, too,” your mom finally says.

“I know!” he was never going to shut up about that once you told him. “What else do you think about him?”

“I think he’s great for you. He’s very smart. Respectful. He’s clearly infatuated with you. He couldn’t stop looking at you.”

You avoid your mom’s gaze as she teases you.

“He was lovely, truly. He has my approval. Now, it’s your father he has to really impress,” she says with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes, not even ready for that storm.

“As long as he doesn’t break your heart, he has nothing to worry about from me. Your father? One bad day and you might not see Miguel ever again.”

You just tapped your finger on the wheel and pursed your lips, mind lingering near the future.

GymRat!Miguel who talks to you about coming to his house after the semester is over. The midterms were soon but so was spring break. He had to let you know sooner rather than later that his family was going all out with trying to meet you.

“A dinner?” you say incredulously as you look up from your sandwich. “Like at a restaurant or at home?”

“Like a full blown dinner party at my bio dad’s house.”

“That’s,” you say taking a pause as the words settle. “A lot.”

Miguel felt like shit.

“I know. Look, I can tell them to cancel the whole thing. They can see you whenever,” Miguel says, sliding his foot next to yours under the table.

“No. If attending this is how I can make a good impression, then I’m more than willing to attend. I just need to prepare. Starting right now.”

Miguel smiled, “And I’ll be there with you for every step of the way.”

Miguel sat with you and helped you break down every relative that he knew was coming.

Gabriel

You knew him already

Easy to please

Annoying (according to Miguel)

Likes you a little too much (also according to Miguel)

Wants to steal you from him

“Miguel, I don’t think he’d do that. He has a girlfriend,” you say, still writing down notes.

“Baby, I know my brother. He might have a girlfriend but that doesn’t stop him from being Denis the Menace,” Miguel huffs out.

Tyler

His biological dad

A little aloof, but means well

Gifts money like it’s nothing

Might still be a little in love his mom

Will give you a bear hug, unaware of how large he is

“Kind of like you, babe,” you comment.

“But I’m doing way more than hugging you, babe.”

“And he’s in love with your mom?”

“It’s a long story.”

Nancy

Tyler’s wife

Definitely married Tyler for the money but eventually found love with him

Owns a Pomeranian named Lala

A bottle blonde turned housewife

Wanted to actually be on a housewife show until she secretly went to Bravo-con and saw how stuck up all of the housewives were

“I feel like that was pretty obvious, but alright.”

“She’s still not the brightest, but she’s nice.”

Kron

A dickhead

Miguel’s half brother

Tyler and Nancy’s only child after Nancy never wanted to go through the pain of childbirth again. And she didn’t want anymore changes to her body.

A year older than Miguel

A dickhead

“Should I have to stay clear of him?”

“No because if he tries something with you, I will handle him myself.”

George

The dad Miguel grew up with his entire life

Where Miguel gets his hopeless romantic tendencies from

Really likes soccer, wanted one of his sons to be a soccer player but got two nerds instead

Met his mom before she knew she was pregnant with him and charmed his way into her life. He didn’t know that Miguel wasn’t his until he was born and Tyler barged his way into the room when he was originally visiting someone else. He saw Conchata’s name on a baby sign and came in crying.

He still stayed with his mom because he loved her but he made Tyler sweat for ever leaving his mom like he once did: lost

“Your dad punched him?” you ask, stopping your writing.

“Yeah. My mom says it wasn’t pretty. Tyler learned a valuable lesson that day because Nancy came in and slapped him once she figured out what went down. He’s never denied Nancy or my mom a material thing since.”

Conchata

Hard on Miguel but dotes on him a lot now

The reason for a lot of Miguel’s self doubt

Wanted Miguel to be a doctor but has settled with science

Blasts music on Sunday mornings while she cleans, therefore waking the entire house

Will actually give you trouble (hence the conversation from two months ago)

“Did she give Dana any trouble?” you recall Gabriel’s girlfriend. “Is there anything that I need to not do specifically?”

Miguel tilts his eyes up, “Now that you mention it, I feel like she welcomed Dana with open arms. That might be more of a little brother privilege than anything else, though.”

You bit your lip, “That’s not good then. I don’t want her to think awful of me or our relationship.”

“She won’t. She just needs time to process.”

“That makes it sound like I’m stealing you from her.”

Oof.

Abuela

Already eager to meet you

Miguel’s world

Taught Miguel how to do certain meals and crafts as he was almost always at her house

Thinks you’re gorgeous

“She said that I’m gorgeous?” you ask, shocked.

“And talented,” Miguel hums. “And brave. Lots of compliments.”

“Oh!”

GymRat!Miguel who stays pent up all of spring break. He was supposed to be enjoying his days off but instead he’s replaying your whiny voice messages and watching videos of you in his clothes. He doesn’t know how much more he could take.

He looked down at his state. Tissues, lube, ragged sheets, your polaroids, his phone. You were driving him crazy.

GymRat!Miguel who almost sprints around campus when his last final is finished. He’s free! For a couple of months at least. To celebrate, he and Peter are having a small get-together in their dorm room with lots of pizza, wings, jello shots, cake, and games.

GymRat!Miguel who cries like a baby at Gabriel’s high school graduation. His baby, who he raised and cared for, practically birthed, is growing up!

George makes sure to get a wobbly video of Gabriel dancing across the stage and Miguel with snot dripping down his face as he hollers.

“What to do with these two?” George sighed as he wrapped his arm around Conchata.

GymRat!Miguel who tussles with Gabriel later that week after he finds out that he sent that video to you. Their dad has to come break up their play fight.

GymRat!Miguel who isn’t surprised that Tyler managed to pay for all of your transportation and stay ahead of the dreaded Stone-O’Hara dinner.

Miguel picks you up from the fancy hotel and thinks that his dad went overboard.

You're waiting in the lobby when he sees you, stunning as ever.

“Wow,” Miguel says, stunned to stillness as he takes you in, unbeknown of his presence. Your dress is flattering you in every way. His goes from your legs, to your heels, to the necklace he got you for Valentine’s Day adorning your chest.

“Baby, you look amazing,” he says, finally coming up to you.

You look up at him with those deer eyes again.

“You think so? It’s not too much, is it?”

“Not at all,” he says grabbing your purse and helping you to your feet. “So beautiful, cariño.”

You duck a bit, bashful from his gaze. Miguel leans your head back up, stealing a kiss from your lips.

“If we weren’t expected, I’d take you back up to the room,” Miguel whispers.

You ball your hands on his chest and look around nervously.

“I might have to take you up on that offer tonight,” you whisper back, heart rattling.

It was Miguel’s turn to feel shy. He walked close behind you as you both made your way to his car, mind racing of the things you both could get up to.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks your reaction is adorable when you see just how huge the Stone property is. You can’t believe that one man owns all of this land. Miguel tells you that this is, unfortunately, just the beginning.

GymRat!Miguel who almost knocks Gabriel down. He’s gawking at you like an idiot when he opens the door to Stone Manor.

“Woah,” Gabriel says, mouth gaping like a fish.

“Hello to you too, Gabriel. It’s nice to meet you in person,” you say with a cute curtsy.

Gabriel continues to flounder, mouth opening and closing like that cat meme.

“Will you at least let her in, you idiot?” Miguel barks.

“Sorry! So sorry,” Gabriel says and opens the door further. “That’s really embarrassing. You’re supposed to see my charm and fall madly in love with me.”

Miguel is about to seriously hurt him when Dana comes around the corner and does the job for him.

“Who’s falling in love with who?” she says, elbowing Gabriel in the stomach.

“Nobody and no one!” Gabriel keels over in pain.

“Thank you, Dana. You could probably hit him again for me,” Miguel says. “I want you to meet my girlfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure! The boys have told me a lot about you. I hope that you enjoy tonight’s dinner,” Dana says, reaching her hand out to you.

“Gabriel has said a lot about you as well. He didn’t say how cute you are though!”

Dana blushes instantly and holds her hand over her mouth as she giggles.

“Of course he couldn’t. He was too busy trying to win you over. I might have to beat them both to the punch though,” Dana replies.

Miguel and Gabriel just make the same irritated noise.

GymRat!Miguel who hold your hand as the four of you walk into the dining room. You’re gripping his hand tight as you take everything in.

It was so grand. Like a hotel. The ceiling fixture was huge and intricate. The color scheme was muted with pops of bright white.

It was…a lot.

“There she is! The lady of the hour,” you see a man even taller than Miguel say. He has brightly gray hair that’s styled intricately so. He’s grinning bright as he comes towards you with his arms wide.

He indeed goes for something like a bear hug, just like Miguel said. Except, Miguel is there to steady you when Tyler collides with you a bit too hard.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just so excited to meet you! I’ve heard so much through the grapevine and I remember your emails like they were yesterday! Please, Please! Have a seat.”

“Not before she greets everyone, Ty-Ty!” you hear a shrill voice from behind him. “Sorry about him. He’s like a golden retriever. My name is Mrs. Stone but you can call me Nancy!”

You shake her hand and exchange pleasantries. She snaps her hand behind her with a beckoning motion.

“This is our son, Kron!”

You look up to see a man with platinum blonde hair and a scowl aimed towards his mom that could rival Miguel’s.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, holding your hand out.

Kron eyes your body in a way that makes a horrible feeling go down your spine. His eyes plant themselves a bit too long on your chest before he decides to return the greeting.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, with a voice that assume was supposed to be smooth. Yuck.

Miguel quickly wraps his hands around your shoulders, “Let’s go meet my other parents.” He turns his mouth up at Kron as he moves you past him. If Tyler or Nancy weren’t there he’d buck at him.

“Mom, Dad, Abuela, this is my girlfriend,” Miguel says with a hand on the small of your back.

“Tan bonitia!” his Abuela cries and walks fast to take your hand into hers. “Eres tan bonita! Miguel! Where did you find such a doll?”

You giggle at her words, bashful at the attention.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. You are extremely beautiful yourself.”

“Oh, a sweet one too! Call me Abuela, yes? ¡Eres un ángel!” she says cradling your face to get a good look at you.

“Gracias, Abuela,” you say, a little softer. Miguel thinks he’s falling in love if he hasn’t already admitted it.

“Come, come! Meet my daughter and son-in-law!”

“This is George!”

“Lovely to meet you, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, looking into his eyes with a smile.

“A pleasure to meet you! My son has been in high spirits these past couple of months. And truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for what you did for him. He’s so stubborn, like his pa. He wouldn’t have budged!”

You chuckle at his comments about that O’Hara stubbornness, “It was no effort on my part, Mr. O’Hara. I wasn’t going to let something like that slide.”

You briefly turn to Miguel, trying to find a safety net under all this attention. You were happy to see that he was staring right back at you.

George then stepped to the side and brought Conchata forward, “Speaking of effort, I’d love for you to meet my wife.”

Here was the big one. The one you felt in your heart and soul was the woman of the night to please, the final boss.

“Mrs. O’Hara, what an honor it is to meet you. Miguel has told me countless stories about you. I’m happy to finally meet you face to face, and not just through words,” you say, holding your hand the highest it has been all night.

You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was.

You panicked, thinking maybe you said something wrong. You’re about to pull your hand back until she finally reaches out and shakes your hand.

“Yes. You are the one that my son took forever to introduce me to. I’m happy that you made it here tonight. I do hope that you enjoy it,” she says. Her voice was calculating and a little cold.

You didn’t know how to take that so you just smiled and hoped that this was how she acted when she first met new people.

You heard the clinking of a fork against a glass.

“Gather around everyone,” Nancy said. “Dinner is about to be served!”

You all go to your seats. You smile at Miguel as he pulls your seat out and helps you sit at the table. He sits next to you and rubs your thigh, just as you did to him months ago.

Gabriel and Dana are sitting in front of you and Miguel. George and Conchata are to Dana's left as Tyler and Nancy are to your left. Kron has somehow placed himself near the head of the table near the parents, while Abuela is seated at the opposite end near the O'Hara brothers.

Nancy calls your name with glee, "I hope you came hungry because tonight we're doing a six-course meal."

You raise your eyebrows. You didn't know that this was the route they were going to take and from Miguel's face, he didn't know either.

There is an array of what you assume to be butlers and servers to come out, each holding a dish. There's even a chef who comes out with a smug look on his face.

"The theme for tonight is 'Everlasting Love.'"

You watch as Gabriel gives Dana a quick side eye and they communicate a silent conversation within just a few seconds. If you were to guess, it would be something along the lines of "is this serious?" and "as a heart attack."

"The first course is roasted artichoke hearts with a feta dressing drizzle. It represents the budding of a fresh relationship. I do hope you enjoy," he says walking away as the waiters lifted the cloches from the plates.

Below were the tiniest little artichoke hearts you've seen in your life.

As you were grabbing your utensils to begin eating, you could see Gabriel fighting for his life not to let out a laugh, shoulders twitching. Miguel just sighed as he put an entire heart in his mouth.

"So," you hear Tyler start up a conversation. "I hear that you are an art major. I would love to see some of your work. We do need a new painting for the entrance hall."

You wait until you swallow before you answer back, "I would love to create a piece for you! I'm sure you would want to see my work first, but whatever you want, I'm sure I can provide it."

"That's exciting! I'm so tired of seeing that boring white horse everyday. Right, Ty-Ty?" Nancy whines a bit as she leans close to Tyler.

"My wife is right. I'm sure your work will liven up the place!"

"I took that picture of the horse," Kron looked at his parents with a frown on his face.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you all to take that down. I'm sure it's very valuable," you say, trying your best not to upset anyone.

"Nonsense! We can always put the horse somewhere else," Tyler says, patting his son on the shoulder. "There's no need to frown son."

"You don't even know what her art looks like. It could be awful for all we know," Kron mumbles.

Rude.

Miguel's about to open his mouth but you quickly respond, "I would be happy to show it to you. If you don't mind, I can pull up my website right now."

So, you did. There are gasps, oos, ahs, and oh mys as your phone makes its way around the table. Kron's face cracks especially when he sees your work. He gets a little red in the face as he squeezes a compliment out.

By the time the next two courses come out, (an oddly pink soup based on the pool of memories that we store in our hearts and a market salad with cranberries and almonds to represent the start of young love) you've managed to impress the Stones, George, and Abuela plenty more times, shut Kron up four more times, and get an eerie stare from Conchata several times.

She hadn't really said a word since you shook her hand.

You all were enjoying a small palate cleanser of sparkling grapefruit juice to represent the sparks of love at first sight when she finally decides to speak up.

"Where did you get that dress?"

She had your full attention, "Oh! My mom lent it to me. She said it would be perfect for a special occasion."

"Your mom?" Conchata looked concerned. "She didn't think it was a bit inappropriate for dinner?"

You look down at your dress. Your cleavage was on display. You knew it was too much.

"I-I guess it is a bit too exposing," you say, conscience over every rise and fall of your chest she could probably see from her side of the table. You didn't bring a shawl with you either. You couldn't hide it.

"I mean, look at Dana. A long, non-revealing gown," she pans to Dana with a warm smile.

You did look to Dana who looked up, bug-eyed and confused. She looked back and forth across the table, a little incredulous.

"Ma, Dana's entire back is exposed," Gabriel said matter-of-factly as Dana turned her body a bit to show the criss-cross detailing of the string pulling the dress together.

"Sure, but, we can't see it here at this table."

"Conchata, dear, what is this about?" Nancy reaches her hand across the table, concerned.

"This isn't about anything! I'm just making conversation like everyone else here," she responds.

She's about to open her mouth again when her mom bites out a sharp "Conchata!" from the end of the table.

Luckily, the tension is broken by the chef bringing out the fourth course: a rare filet mignon to represent how our hearts bleed as they yearn for love.

How fitting.

You chewed your food in silence, controlling every movement that you could because now you felt that the entire table was ogling your chest.

It wasn't until the second palate cleanser, a red sorbet, came out that you saw that Kron's eyes never left you or your body. You felt sick.

You excused yourself and briskly walked to the bathroom.

You closed the door and took a deep breath. You looked over your appearance again. Was it really too much?

You washed your hands and took a few deep breaths. You were here to meet Miguel's family and make a good impression. Even, if his mom seemed to hate you, you were still gaining the hearts of everyone else. You're doing this for Miguel. Keep it together.

After a short pep talk, you straighten out your dress and your back, wanting to walk back into the room with your head held high.

What you don't expect is to be met with Kron as soon as you open the door.

"I'm sorry, did you need to use the restroom?" you ask, thinking that you were in there too long.

"No, but I was hoping to speak with you," he says, staring you down. "I apologize for my reaction earlier. Your art really is nice."

"Thank you," you say, trying to discreetly step from the door. He really did give you the ick. "I'm sorry that your parents are trying to take your art down. That was never my intention."

"No harm, no foul," he said. "What is confusing is how a pretty little thing like you ended up in Miguel's bed and not mine?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, a dirty look planted on your face.

"I'm not speaking another language, baby. You should dump him and get with the winning team. You'd make a great trophy wife."

"Look, Kron. Chronic. Megatron. Whatever," you say, trying to get away from him as he leaned closer. "I'd really appreciate it if you left me alone. I'm just trying to get back to dinner."

"The one person who you want to notice you is not impressed," he says with a snicker on his lips. "My parents seem to already enjoy you. You could drop this whole gig and be with me. Seriously."

GymRat!Miguel who storms over to where you went with a quickness. You were gone way too long and Kron was nowhere to be found.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Miguel asked with a bass in his voice.

"Great. Now the bear has been poked," Kron says to you. "We're not doing anything, Miguel. Calm down."

"You are doing something because why are you that close to my girlfriend?"

"Is she your girlfriend? Because I'm real close to getting a taste of that-"

Miguel grabs Kron up by his collar so quickly, you almost miss his movement, "You wanna finish that sentence?"

"Hey. Hey!" you whisper-shout, trying not to get the attention of everyone else. "Can we please just make it through this dinner? You two can do whatever you want afterwards. Please."

Miguel lets Kron go who sports a smirk across his face as he heads back towards the dining room.

"Thanks, dollface," he says, shooting you a wink.

Miguel only tightens his fist as he watches him walk away, "I should have hit him."

"Later, baby, please."

GymRat!Miguel who is significantly calmed down by the time you both make it back to the table. You let him breathe you in for a minute or two and it was like the bad energy was drained out of him.

The last two courses were a dessert and a specialty tea. The chef offered them both up at the same time, claiming that they complement each other like two parties in a couple.

You sipped your tea gingerly, happy to have made it to what you hope is the end of a long night.

The dessert in front of you looks delicious. It's in such a cute cherry shape, and it takes everything within you not to take your phone out to snap a picture.

You're about to dig in until you hear Conchata clear her throat.

"Are you sure you don't want to save that until tomorrow? I wouldn't want you to be bloated or anything," she asks hurriedly.

Oh.

So that's what this is about. All the remarks, the stares, the comments. They weren't about your character, your words, or even how you treat Miguel. It was all because of your appearance.

She thought you weren't good enough for her son because of your appearance.

You put the fork down, defeated. Conchata won the night.

Your throat burned as you bit back tears of shame and embarrassment.

"Mom, are you serious right now?" Miguel spoke up, voice cold as ever.

"Miguel don't talk to me like that! I'm your mother."

"A mom that's kinda being a bitch right now," Kron mutters under his breath.

You would agree, but it wasn't your place to make that comment.

Miguel lets that be known as he gets up and socks Kron right across the face.

The entire table is up in a flash, trying to get Miguel off of him.

Tyler is finally able to pull Miguel up after a few minutes. He's heaving, face the angriest you've ever seen it.

He yanks his body from Tyler's and opens his mouth, "This sorry excuse of a party to gang up on my girlfriend is over. I'm sick of it."

"Ma, you really said some horrible things tonight. I've tried for years to remain respectful towards you, but tonight you've really pushed it, and hurt someone that I love."

Love? Your eyes went wide and your heartbeat started to ring even louder in your ears.

"Kron, I've been sick of your bullshit for god know's how long. Biting off of me and my accomplishments is one thing, but cornering and harassing my girlfriend that I chose to bring around you is another. If you ever try that shit again, our poor dad isn't going to be able to get me off of you. You will never be me. Get over it."

"And finally, it seems that only a select few of you can stand up to the consuming fire that is Conchata O'Hara. I love my girlfriend for who she is first and foremost. She was the light that came into my life. You think I'm going to let something as minuscule as her body stop me from loving her? You should be ashamed, ma."

Miguel moves quickly as he shoves two plates in one of the butler's hands and tells him to pack it to go. He then turns to his grandma at the end of the table who didn’t even budge when Miguel snapped.

"Lo siento, Abuela," he whispers to her, truly upset that he let this get this far.

His grandma just gave him a long kiss on the cheek and whispered something in his ear.

"C'mon. We're leaving," Miguel holds your hand as he gets ready to guide you towards the entrance.

You bow to everyone, "I'm sorry about all of this." You're pulled by Miguel who wants to get out of the suffocating manor quick.

What a horrible first impression.

GymRat!Miguel who is silent on the car ride back to your hotel room. He's partially still calming down and partially listening for you to say anything. Your head hasn't turned from the window. He just places his hand in yours, hoping that he can get the message across that he was here for you.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn't see you crack until you're up in the hotel room, the lights are dimmed, and your heels are off. He's quick to wrap his arms around you as you sob. Your cries becoming louder and louder. His heart breaks at every shaky breath that you take.

"I know, I know. I got you, baby," he says, rocking with you, in hopes that you could just breathe.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you unzip your dress, offering to wash your body. You tell him no and that you need that little quiet time to yourself to think. He understands.

He still paces the room while you're in the shower, thinking about the things he should have done to prevent this.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the leftover dessert, still wanting you to enjoy something from tonight. You hum in between bites, sniffling a bit along the way. Even in this state, you were most precious to him.

GymRat!Miguel who kisses away your tears as you let out your insecurities. He reassures you that you're perfect. Body, mind, and soul.

"I love you," he says looking at you deeply. "Honestly, I feel like I've loved you since our group project. I loved you since our smoothie date. I've loved you since carrying your art supplies. I've loved you since listening to you rant about animatronic rats. Since you opened your dorm door pissed off at me. Since our coffee dates. Since our library dates. Since I first saw you with your matching outfits."

You still couldn't believe it.

"You love me?" you say, still trying to comprehend.

"Te amo, mi amor. Deeply and truly."

GymRat!Miguel who keeps you in his arms the entire night, kissing you to oblivion. You're both staring at each other. A faint moonlight peaking through the curtains.

"I love you too, Miguel," you say, words drifting into the night.

It's all Miguel needs to kiss you to sleep.

dividers by: @y-onb + @benkeibear 🩵

a/n: If you would like to become my designated Spanish checker or a buddy to help me learn/write my Spanish, please let me know 😭. (There was already someone but I forgot your @ !!!)

As always like, reblog, and COMMENT! Let me know how you feel. 🩵

(I am thinking of putting these on my AO3 because they are officially long enough to be fic chapters lol. The question is...how much should I change the format?🤔)

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx @lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @ce3stvu @ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

[lilpy]

🌟 Lucidrien 🌟

Reverse Crowley or angel Crowley. I made my first version of Lucidrien in 2019 and I still love him SO much so I wanted to give his reference sheet a little update. His counterpart Forneus is still in the works 💕

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Have some backstory:

Before he got his new job as "field agent" on earth, Lucidrien was a formless but vaguely long, wobbly entity of light and sparkly stardust, spreading himself out in space to do his job as the protector of dreams, watching over every being in the universe and making sure to keep the balance between good dreams and nightmares intact. He never really heard of any war or rebellion in Heaven, the other angels had sort of forgotten about him anyway. He was feeling best when nobody bothered him. When one day Gabriel popped up and stuffed him into a tiny human corporation and pushed him towards the edge of Heaven, Lucidrien wasn't sure whether he was tangled up in some angel's dream or if he was experiencing Reality for the first time in a long time. When he is looking back nowadays, he remembers that Gabriel told him that they were short-staffed in Eden and needed Lucidrien to back up the guardians of the Wall because somewhere inside of Eden, there was a massive demon spreading Evil. Lucidrien hadn't fully managed to put his conscious thoughts in order yet to know what demons were and especially not how to use a corporation with wings(he had never gone through training in the first place) so when Gabriel gave him one last push on the back, he started falling and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He fully lost consciousness before he hit the ground(water, actually, but he'd never know) and the first thing he saw when he woke up, were two big blue eyes and a dark wing shielding him from the sunlight. ⭐️

[kinardsevan]

i was watching some Gabriel Iglesias jokes and he was discussing the correlation between men and wine, and it made me need to write this. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 call it another trip down the outsider view of bucktommyweek, even though it's now September.

-

“Lucky bitch.” 

Taylor mutters under her breath as she shifts in her seat, waiting on her date now for at least ten minutes past when he last texted he’d be around. She’s not even sure why she’s still waiting, but she doesn’t have any other plans for the evening, and she’s not about to spend another night at the station editing footage together her field report on the wildfire in the Angeles National Forest. But as she stares across at the man a few tables over, he seems to be held up as well, checking his watch and phone every few seconds. He has two empty wine glasses on the table with him, and a bottle resting in ice. She recognizes enough of the label to know that it’s not cheap. She stares at him for a time, contemplates getting up and going over, asking if he wants company. He’s tall and muscular, beefy, as the youths say today, and she hasn’t been with a guy like that since…well, since Buck. And truth be told, even Buck wasn’t as muscular as this Adonis sitting feet away from her. 

All at once, she’s both irritated, jealous, and annoyed. Irritated that this specimen of a man is sitting so close, yet so far away, and he’s not there for her; jealous for exactly that reason, and annoyed that she’s still waiting on the arrival of her date when she could be chatting up the man sitting at the other table. Still, she’s not entirely sure what stops her. Maybe it’s the way he seems to have an invisible box up around him, shutting everyone else out, or the way he keeps staring at his phone, waiting on whoever hasn’t arrived to meet him yet. Maybe it’s because of something else she can’t put her finger on. Either way, she doesn’t get a whole lot of time to piece it together, because her own date finally arrives a few seconds later, and before he can launch into a list of excuses as to what took him so long, she stops him. 

“First of all, I wait on no one, so this is your singular warning to not do this to me again,” she states. “Second, I’ve already ordered appetizers because I’ve been here waiting all this time for you to arrive, so third, I hope you’re prepared to pick up the check.” 

Somehow, a miracle, she thinks, the man sits down in the seat across from her, finally launching into his speech about why he was late, and she’s a little shocked he didn’t bail at her lecture. She’s pulled it out before—laid out her expectations front and center—with the understanding that she won’t be treated like a petulant teenager because someone else can’t keep their time straight. 

After the long-winded excuse, the appetizer arrives, and then there’s an order of their own drinks and the main course, and the next time she looks over at the beautiful man, his date has clearly arrived, although Taylor can’t see her between the other patrons around them now. What she can see, is the gorgeous man smiling, enraptured by whatever his date is telling him, a twinkle in his eye as he sips from his wine. At the same time, her own date drones on about his day job, and all she can think, yet again, is lucky bitch.

. . .

“Oh come on, not this motherfucker again.” 

It’s four weeks later when she sees him again. They aren’t even at the same restaurant. He’s being delivered to a booth this time while she sits at a different table, waiting on a different date. Late guy didn’t even make it to her doorstep. She’d abandoned him in the parking lot of the restaurant after he’d made a comment about journalists being hacks. And now, when she’s having to meet Kenny, one of the network higher-ups about trying to gain more of an anchoring position, this jackass has to be front and center for her again. 

She tries to ignore his presence by scrolling through her phone, even taking time to scroll through Tinder. Still, she mostly swipes left as the tables around her fill up. Once again, she’s left waiting while other people start their meals, enjoy their dates, and so forth. When she looks up at the pretty one again, it’s clear that his girlfriend has arrived because he’s got that same stupid smile on his face, although maybe a bit more subdued? Like maybe everything isn’t perfect in fantasy land? She wiggles an eyebrow to herself, contemplating her chances again over whether she should introduce herself to the walking Statue of David. But then the network bigwig is arriving and taking her attention away from the pretty one, and the next time she looks over, she sees him holding someone’s hand. Well so much for that. 

. . . 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

Six weeks. She’d gone six weeks without seeing the sexpot that was the beautiful man who was now plaguing her dreams. And, like, it’s not like she was fantasizing about him or anything…but she was very aware of how gorgeous he was both times she’d seen him previously, and she couldn’t help herself, taking inventory of him. Those muscles, that jaw, the curl of his hair…

Except, tonight he’s less buttoned-up. The sleeves of the maroon henley he has on are shoved up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy lines of his arms, as though he completed a workout not that long ago. But it’s the jeans that do it for her; the way they hug his ass and thighs, and all over again, she’s jealous. And also now, now she’s angry. She’s angry that she keeps getting roped into these stupid nowhere dates and network meetings that aren’t gaining her the traction she wants, but some other girl out there is getting to ride that stallion all over fucking Los Angeles. When is she going to get her turn? 

Clearly not tonight, because date number four with the guy she’s been out with over the past two weeks is starting out the same way the last three have—he’s late. And the thing is, Taylor gets being late. Reporters are, by nature, always late to the scene. It’s a minor miracle when they’re actually at a place, much less with cameras rolling when an event happens. More often than not though, they only get the aftermath, so she can rationalize not being on time all the time…. But this guy hasn’t been on time once. And they specifically picked this restaurant because it was closer to his place than hers. And yet…

The pretty one is on his phone, looking rather perturbed as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the line. She watches as his expression goes from that, to one of concern, a pause to smile and laugh—there’s that stupid twinkle again. Does this bitch even realize how good she has it?—back to the worried expression. He’s too far away for her to make out what he’s saying, but before long, he’s slapping money on the counter and leaving before she can figure out what’s driving his attention. Her journalist skills have her wanting to get up and leave, follow after the man and find out what has him so concerned all of a sudden…but her stupid date comes through the dining room then, already rattling off an excuse. She stands, lists all the reasons that she’s not staying and why there won’t be another date—and why the tab is on him for the drinks she had while waiting—but by the time she makes it to the parking lot, the beautiful man is gone. 

Taylor huffs. 

. . . 

Three weeks later, she’s sitting at a table in a coffee house, reading through an article she’s written up. She’s gotten a decent amount of bylines since her book got published, and if things are going to continue to fuck her over at her current network, then maybe it’s time for a change. Besides, she’s heard some good things back from a friend down at the sister network a few miles over, so why not? 

The door chimes, and she ignores it, along with whoever walks in and up to the counter. They’re too far away for her to really hear, but she looks up when a barista comes to her table with freshly ordered latté and scone…

…and her eyes fall directly onto one Evan Fucking Buckley. She stares at him with a furrowed brow for a minute. He’s in his LAFD hoodie and a pair of dark joggers, probably coming off of a shift and heading home, if his generally slumped composure is anything to go by. There’s a generous bruising along the side of his jaw that has her curious, but they haven’t spoken in quite some time—not since a few weeks after he was struck by lightening, and even then, it was a short conversation—so she’s not about to step back into his life and start asking questions. 

Still, she’s taken by seeing him out in the wild. She watches briefly as he makes small talk with the barista behind the counter—someone he clearly knows well. While she can’t hear them or read lips, she can tell by their postures that the barista is asking about the bruise, and he’s quick to dismiss it, as though having his face that color is just normal. Still, she doesn’t want to eavesdrop, and before long, she’s looking back at her computer, trying to work on the article she has up. 

The door chimes again, and this time, she looks up, only because her brain is still atuned to picking out Buck’s voice in a crowd. Still, her brow furrows when she overhears ‘hi, honey’. 

She looks back up, glancing around the café, very confused when she doesn’t see another female striding up to him. Instead, her jaw slacks open as her eyes fall on him. The fucking beautiful man. The one from the restaurants—the one she’d been so jealous about. And he-…wait what!? She watches him stride right up to Buck and slide a hand down his back right over his ass and use the other to turn his cheek with fingers wrapped around his chin, clearly eyeing the bruise. Buck nods—clearly having been asked if he’s okay—and then the gorgeous one kisses him and Taylor is pretty sure at that point her brain is in a puddle on the tabletop. 

A moment later though, she quickly recomposes herself, because they must’ve felt her staring, when Buck looks over in her direction. His brow furrows briefly, and then he lifts a hand and waves. She gives the slightest hint of an affiliative smile and a quick wave back, turning her attention back to her computer. She’d been right, all of those times she’d seen the gorgeous man before. He was taken, and the person lucky enough to have him was in fact a lucky bitch. 

She just never expected the lucky bitch to be her ex-boyfriend; and that spurred a jealousy all of its own. 

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt.2

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

I heart slowburn x

You idled on where you could go for your honeymoon. At least Miguel gave you the twisted liberty of choosing where you could go, you didn't even care enough to want to go to nice places anymore. Why was he trying to drag this out with a honeymoon? Neither of you wanted it, yet Miguel always valued whatever his Consigliere had to say, you weren't going to take one of your few chances to argue with him over something so minuscule, you were saving your rage and confusion for the things that would matter in the future. Maybe somewhere warm, maybe Italy or France or something. You wondered what Mexico would be like since Miguel is half Mexican, you wondered if a part of his family were settled there too- you had to admit, you were curious if the apple fell far from the tree. You immediately dismissed this misplaced curiosity, you didn"t know Miguel well enough yet and he would probably have your head on a spike if you even mentioned it. Miguel's brother Gabriel came into the penthouse to pick up a few things and you told him that you wanted to go to Italy, Gabriel said he'd pass that along to Miguel's pilot.

It was getting dark out and Miguel said you'd fly out tonight but he still wasn't back. You hadn't seen Miguel since breakfast, you probably ruffled his feathers just by challenging him minutely. All you did today was get ready, did up your hair, splashed on some makeup, wear one of the dresses he gave you, and sat around. You were bored out of your mind, if this was what married life would be like, you would be very irritable and uncooperative indeed. You couldn't back out now, being bored was better than being dead.

You took this eventless time to wander around this penthouse, one of his capos told you he owned many but this was one of the nicer ones, it was quiet, serene. You spent this day with one of Miguel's lackeys stationed outside of the door and Little Miss Fuck Me Eyes, AKA the maid, but you actively avoided her.

It was a nice place to live in, expensive and clean, but it felt...empty, even with people in and outs mavbe it was just the lack of Miguel that was making you feel this way. Your heels clicked around and your eyes squinted towards Miguels study.

Should you...? You'd probably get a shot to the kneecap at least for meddling with Miguel's private affairs. Your fingers wandered to the handle tentatively, your curiosity outweighed your fear. It would be a stupid mistake, yes, but if Miguel wasn't going to be here now, he definitely wouldn't be around later, so you had time to snoop and pretend you weren't there.You opened the door and your eyes shot around, he was such a neat freak, but there were bits of paper strewn on his desk. His desk was dark oak, it was almost black, his desk chair was real black leather too, and the warm ambient lights offered some sort of atmosphere where he could work. You strolled softly behind his desk to look at the loose papers. The first one was marriage papers, the official documents to your betrothal, the other one was the NDA you signed and the last one was...an entire background check on you. You sifted through the paper and there were pictures of you walking around on the streets of New York, you clutched onto it, your eyes narrowing at the words you were reading on the page.

It had your bank details.

Your clothing measurements.

Your GPA.

The earnings of your parent's company.

Every ex-boyfriend you've ever had

The shops you go to.

Your favourite food.

Quite literally everything about you.

He ran a background check on you and had someone follow you around before you got engaged. You frowned at the paper. You set it down and sighed, taking a minute to consolidate what you had just read. Raking a hand through your hair, you walked around his desk and stole a glance at the walls- you couldnt believe you missed what he hung up on the walls. You inched forward to inspect the Renaissance paintings that covered the room, he even had a real Caravaggio, Lord knows how much it cost. Then you shifted towards a picture that wasn't a painting. It was of Miguel and his brother when they were about teenagers, embracing each other for the camera after a presumably long day of playing sports or something like that- but what really stunted you was that he was smiling. You don't think you've ever seen Miguel smile at all.

What you didn’t realise was that Miguel was at home, trying to find you in the penthouse.

He knew he was an hour late but he was held up by some important consultations. His brow raised when out of the corner of his eye, he found the door to his study open which was very odd- it was always left closed, he should probably invest in a lock. His fingers opened it up sottly and there he found you, snooping around his study like a second-rate degenerate criminal, but when he found you, you were gawking at the art on his walls. You were absorbed in the paintings, in a trance akin to that of a dream, he almost didn't want to disturb you, You were wearing a slinky black strapless dress that hugged you just right, it stopped just below the knee, your skin was glowing in the ambient light, the heels on your feet making you look taller, but not as tall as him. He liked that he had the choice to power over you.

He had the sentiment he always had when he looked at you: you looked nice.

“Enjoying your prying?” A low irritated voice husked behind you, you turned around and yelped in surprise, your chest heaved at the shock of seeing him right here, in a place you had no business being in. You were dead already. You winced when your eyes met his, he seemed amused and annoyed all at once as you gaped at him at the doorway. He was so….so…clean and smart but his sleeves were rolled up and a few buttons were undone, he ditched his tie as you saw it in his hand. You swallowed thickly.

“I'm fine.”You seemed to muster up, unsure of what else to say, You had to admit, you were a little afraid but you would rather die than show that. You weren't sure what was going to fall out of his mouth, probably a verbal tongue-lashing. “Caravaggio? His paintings are rather dark.” You couldn't help but comment on it, of course, he would have refined taste, not just in anything business-related but also something as cultural as art.

“Isn't that what's fascinating about it?” Miguel grumbled, hoping you wouldn't hear him. It was a bright, keen and astute observation. You pursed your lips and stayed silent whilst crossing your arms. “I don't want you in here.” He clipped coldly as he finally made his way to approach you, he stole a look towards his desk and found that a few papers had been messed with. So you know about it now.

“I don't want you having your capos stalk me.” You bit back shrewdly with challenging eyes and Miguel raised an eyebrow a little, just enough for you to notice from the corner of your eye. Touche, dick.

“I have to know how I'm working with.” He said so emotionless, so flatly. Like everything was about business, like neither of you was actual people with feelings.

“Well, I don't know who I'm working with, so you're not fighting fair.” You inched forward to him as you let out with a strained breath. Unfortunately for him, your statement made him think.

“You won't have to and you're right, I don't fight fair.”

“I told Gabriel I want to go to Italy, by the way.” You pivoted the subject around and Miguel was internally pleased that you did.

“Portofino is nice this time of year.” He commented briskly, again, reverting back as if you were mere acquaintances discussing destination spots and the fucking weather. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

-

You packed quickly and Miguel's driver took all your bags as you were about to head out of the front door. You weren't really paying attention as Little Miss Fuck Me Eyes was all over Miguel again, talking to him about what needed to be done the time both of you came back. You didn't know why you didn't like her, it was probably because she was so obvious about it, she was practically drooling over your husband as if you weren't here.

He was your husband. Whether you liked it or not. When she glanced over at you, you raked a tuft of hair behind your ear, your wedding ring on full display as you did so, she definitely noticed it with the way her face settled into a scowl.

It didn't take long until you were both in the back seat of Miguel's lamp-black Porsche, completely silent to the drive to the airstrip that Miguel owned. You blinked out the window, watching the bright city lights blur into colors against the dark of night, well-mannered in your straight posture and crossed legs. Miguel took a second to contemplate your presence, he almost hated how well-behaved you were. A small fraction of him wanted to see you get messy, preferably under him. He shook the defiant out of his head with a scowl, staring out of his own window in response. There was this thick tension between you, this sustaining of a non-existent friendship, trying to keep the conversation simple and polite between you and the man you barely knew anything about.

He did his research but your parents did their own- they didn't let you get involved even though you were the one they were marrying off.

It felt like forever in the car, Miguel escorted you out like a...gentleman. Watching you sway so confidently up the stairs to his private jet. He had a full view of your ass in that dress he liked, he didn't know how to feel about it so he just breathed deeply instead. Miguel followed you up, stepping into the cool, crystalized plush leather of the plane. Jesus, the amount of money he spent on this is probably uncountable, just thinking about it made your head ache. Miguel watched as you were awed at the interior, he had a slight feeling of contempt at your reaction, like you didn't think your lifestyle would change into this. He makes this kind of money every minute. He was a very wealthy man. He could afford 20 of these if he wanted to. You needed to stop being so surprised and get used to shit like this.

You thought that Miguel would probably want to sit the furthest away from you, he was distant like that but a flash of confusion covered your face when you found him sitting next to you as he did up his seatbelt.

So close.

The proximity was...different. So different.

“Good evening, Mr. O'hara.” Before you knew it a soft sensual voice in front of you pierced through your absent-minded thoughts. Oh, of course. Another insanely beautiful woman worked for him. She took out a single glass and pulled out a 100-year-old Merlot. Her perfectly tailored uniform clung to her so tightly it was like glue. Of course, he had a gorgeous flight attendant. Of course. It shouldn't bother you, but for some reason it did. “How was your night...with your friend here?” She glanced to the side at you, finally realizing that it wasn't just her and Miguel in the plane, so they couldn't exactly fuck like dogs. Her face scrunched into a condescending smile, looking you up and down. It was obvious she was defeated but she concealed it behind bright eyes. Why did every single woman who worked for him want to fuck him? It was honestly galling.

“She's my wife.” Miguel said thickly, his voice held a certain gravitas, and his tone was clipped, almost like he was annoyed. The revelation seemed to get to Little Miss Fuck Me Eyes Number 2, her face dropped and it honestly made you feel better. “And yes, we had a good night, thank you. Please get another glass for us please.” It was almost like he was politely laying into her.

“Of course, Mr O'Hara.” She smiled softly as she whisked away to get another glass.

Miguel wanted to roll his eyes. Yeah, yeah baby, keep dreaming he wanted to say. He really didn't like it when people gawked at him, especially the women who worked for him. It wasn't him who employed all these objectively beautiful women, it was Gabriel and he was extremely biased. He doesn't fuck his staff. Well, he can't because he's a married man. Married to you. A beautiful woman who he just can't figure out. Even though, he had all the info he could get about you...the way you talked to him, and the way you acted around him was confusing. You were so puzzling and he wanted to uncover the secrets that you held, how messy you could actually get behind this complacent good girl agenda.

His eyes flickered to you and it was obvious you were lost in your own little world. He looked at your lap and noticed that you weren't wearing your seatbelt, before his mind could even check it, his hands reached out for your seatbelt.

You almost jumped into your seat when you realized where his hands were, he was leaning towards you, close enough where you could fully smell his deep and rich cologne. He did your seatbelt and without hesitation, tightened it harshly with one tug, you gasped softly at the unexpected action. Woah. His hands were...big.

“Make sure you don't die a day after your wedding day.” He muttered just above a whisper. You let out a gentle cough and resumed your 'respectable' position, pretending like it didn't affect you whatsoever.

Miguel wanted you to be affected by him, maybe so he could intimidate you. But after just a short few days together and many moments of where you should be intimidated by him- you weren't. It was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He could have you affected by him in another way…maybe sexual tension would do the trick in breaking this facade you had up... He contemplated the idea but then ultimately rejected it as quickly as it came.

He can't fraternize with you.

This was merely a business transaction.

He wanted this as clean as possible.

No feelings. No fucking up.

He would never get involved. He won't do it.

He’s done too much to stop now.

-

taglist (giggles): @deputy-videogamer @aisyakirmann

[sports-on-sundays]

princess of monaco / CL16

Summary: Charles x Monégasque!wealthy!singer!female!reader - You finally get to meet the famous Formula 1 driver from your country. But it promises to become much more than just one meeting. I encourage listening to Enchanted by Taylor Swift in the first scene, and Monaco by MKTO in the last scene.

Warnings: language, use of pet names 'princess' and 'honey', slight soulmates feel

Requested?: No

Author's Note: Sorry my go-to careers for reader is always a singer or a baker, and today it ended up a singer. Also my requests are open right now; feel free to request! (Thank you to the person that did request; I'm working on that right now!)

Your father is one of the richest men in Monaco. Which means, of course, with all the other blessings you've had lavished upon you your entire life, you've always had the pleasure of these boring parties.

But you're here, because you have to be, and really, are you in any place to complain?

Besides, you have a certain amount of fame yourself. Though not a very famous one, you are a songwriter, and have done a few shows as your fame increases.

It's then, though, that your older brother saunters over to you with a big smile on his face, and you suddenly have a feeling by that mischievous look maybe this party could be promising after all. He smiles, nodding to you, grabbing an hors d'oeuvre off the snack table before slipping to stand next to you, eating it.

"What's this all about?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at him. Your brother Gabriel is nearly as successful as your father, in his own field, as a specialist doctor, but never acts nearly as professional at these parties as your father does.

His grin widens. "What is what all about?"

"The stupid smile on your face, dimwit. Got some prank you're about to pull on me or something?"

"What?!" he asks, mocking offense. "No, of course not! I actually have great news to tell you."

"Hmmm?" you ask, unimpressed, crossing your arms, still not sounding very convinced.

"I swear! Great news. Has to do with Formula 1, actually."

Now you're really confused. Ever since you and your brother were children, you were huge F1 fans, and watched the races every single weekend together. It's a tradition that has long since faded, with the business of adult life, but the two of you still continue to follow the sport and be fans of, of course, your country's own, Charles Leclerc. "Formula 1? What has that got to do with anything?"

"It actually has to do with everything?"

"What? Last minute Hamilton is retiring and Sainz is staying in Ferrari after all?"

Your brother laughs at the joke, and jokes back, "No, no, not quite that miraculous..."

"Oh, then, never mind then," you say teasingly, re-crossing your arms and turning your face away from him. "I don't even care what it is if it's not that!"

"Oh, really?" Gabriel says quieter, nudging you. "You wouldn't even care if I told you Father invited Charles Leclerc to this party, and he actually showed up?"

"H- Huh?" you ask, suddenly very interested, your head snapping right back to your brother's gaze.

But he just grins and subtly gestures with his head.

And your eyes follow his gesture across the room, until your eyes finally land on Charles Leclerc himself standing there, talking with some other less rich, less important, less famous guys. Your heart beat quickens in awe as you stare.

"Hey, but don't leave your mouth hanging open like that. That way, you look really stupid, and you definitely won't have a chance with him."

"Huh?!" you ask, your voice cracking, as you look back to your brother. "What are you talking about?"

He smirks. "You do have a mad crush on him, don't you?"

"Oh, shut up!"

"Well, don't go up asking for his autograph. You'll look like a fool."

"Gabriel, I know," you say in exasperation, gulping as you look back at Charles Leclerc himself, in the flesh.

And only across the room from him.

"Well, are you going to go talk to him?"

"Fuck no!"

Your brother stares at you like you're stupid. "Why not?"

"Are you?"

"Not unless he talks to me."

"Why not?"

He sighs, getting your point made, and shrugs, before saying in his silly tone of voice, "You know, if we just hang out here by the snacks the whole time, he's bound to come over to get some at some point."

"My God, Gabriel."

"You can't deny it's a good plan."

"You're stupid."

He grins. "Really? I personally think it's pretty smart."

So, it's decided. As stupid as it seems, you're going to stand by the hors d'oeuvres the entire night, until Charles Leclerc might come over to get some snacks, and there's a slight chance that you and your brother will get to have maybe a quick exchange with him.

Well, it's worth it. What else do you have to do any better?

But, apparently, luck is on your side tonight, because pretty soon Gabriel nudges you and murmurs, "Oh, lookie. It's the man himself coming over. Don't make yourself a fool."

And sure enough, you see him walking over across the room in your direction as he finishes up a conversation with one of your father's friends. He looks extremely fresh in his black suit and bow tie, and pristine white shirt underneath. You swallow.

He's literally the hottest one in this room. At this entire party.

And he's shining, too.

Your heart pounds in your ears as he ends his conversation and heads towards the snacks, a hand casually in his pocket.

He's reaching for a drink.

You gulp.

He's so close, you could reach out and touch him.

It's then, though, that he glances up.

Meets your gaze.

Because of course you were staring.

And he smiles.

You heart squeezes in your chest, magic fills your head, and you feel as though you could faint right there and fall right into poor unassuming Gabriel's arms.

Charles finishes grabbing his drink and a snack, and you're expecting him to just walk away, and that would be your only interaction with him, and you would replay that smile in your mind time after time, but that would be it, but-

He casually steps over to you and your brother with that lovely smile on his face, puts his hand out to Gabriel, and says, "Charles Leclerc, and you are?"

Gabriel beams, actually, in your opinion, looking more like an idiot than you do, before telling Charles his name, and introducing you as his sister, as well, with your name.

Charles eyes immediately turn to you as he puts out his hand to you, saying, "Y/n? That's a lovely name. It suites you, mademoiselle," he takes your hand in his. "Lovely name for a lovely young lady. I'm delighted to meet you." And with that, he leans down, bringing your hand to his lips, gently kissing it, before letting it go and straightening with- oh God- such a charming smile.

Now you really do feel as though you might faint.

"Thank you..." you get out, glad you didn't forget to respond to the man out of pure enchantment.

And, thankfully, after that, Charles and Gabriel just chat mostly for a while, which gives you a chance to regather yourself after the dizziness hit you. And that gives you a chance to, frankly, stare at Charles, and listen to his just lovely voice.

You just don't realize how much he can see you in the corner of his eye. And how every moment you glance away from him, he takes glances right back at you.

Soon, though, suddenly, your father comes rushing over. "Father-!" you say with a little smile, your face lighting up. You're always happy to see him, since you never really get to see him much, even at his own parties.

But once you realize he's serious about something, you let your shoulders slump again as you glance away. Your father whispers something to Gabriel, and Gabriel nods, his expression serious, before saying, "Right." He turns to Charles, saying, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to go."

Charles smiles and nods, "No problem at all."

Gabriel nods, and just like that, both your father and brother are gone.

And here you are, with Charles Leclerc, a nervous, blushing wreck.

Charles nods to you, though, taking a step towards you, and sips from his glass, before saying, "Well, Y/n, it looks like it's just the two of us, huh?" You think his eyes might quickly glance down to take in your fitting black slit dress, before returning to your eyes and saying, "So, the host is your father, hm?"

You smile, nodding, clearing your throat, trying to keep cool. "Ah, yes, uhm- Yes, me and Gabriel's father."

He nods, that little smile still on his face, the air between the two of you thick with electricity.

But maybe you're just imagining it. Right?

It's then that you feel the ounce of confidence to actually continue the conversation yourself. "So.. uh, congrats on your season this year..." You show a polite little smile.

He nods, glancing around the room, "It could have been better, but we pushed. Most races, we did everything we could."

You feel yourself begin to relax into the conversation a bit more as you laugh a bit and say, "I was really hoping Ferrari would win Constructor's."

He chuckles, nodding, taking another sip from his glass. "Oh, trust me. I was, too."

You stare at him, with his dimply little adorable smile, and say kind of dreamily, "Monaco was... amazing..."

"Hm?" he asks, confused for a moment, before he says, his little smile immediately turning into a big grin, "Oh, yes, my win?"

You nod. "Yeah. I was here for it."

"Oh, yeah? Yes... it's one I'll never forget."

"Me neither," you smile. "In all honestly, despite how embarrassing it is to admit it, I cried when you won that race."

"Cried?" he says with a little twinkle in his eyes. "You've been my fan a while then?"

You blush, shrugging. "I suppose you could say that. But I'm Monégasque. What else would you expect?"

He shrugs with a little cute nod, and says, "I guess so. Well, thank you for your support." He looks back to you, studying your face. "It's nice to think about all the fans from my own country who have been supporting me through the years, such as yourself. I'm sure there's none of them that are as beautiful as you, though."

Your eyes widen at the sudden last comment, and your cheeks heat up, before you stutter, "O- Oh... I- Thank you."

"It's the least I can do as repayment for getting to have a conversation with someone so stunning as yourself. So tell me about yourself, then. Because I've gone on about myself for far too long. Besides," he smiles knowingly. "You seem like the type of girl that would know a lot about me already, hm?"

You glance away, trying to swallow the embarrassed lump in your throat that's keeping you from speaking, feeling thoroughly like a flustered mess. You sigh shakily, before finally murmuring, looking away from his eyes, your head spinning with delight, "I... I guess you could say that... Well..." you clear your throat. "There's not much to say about me... I'm a singer."

His eyebrows raise in immediate interest at that. "Really? So you like music?"

You nod, sighing a bit as your composure comes mostly back to you. "Yes... I've always loved music. You know, singing, and a few instruments, but I was never that good. But I know you play some instruments?"

He smiles, nodding. "Primarily piano," and then he gently teases, taking a casual step towards you, "Maybe we'll have to write a song together sometime. I can only imagine your singing voice is just as captivating as you yourself."

Your heart skips a beat at that one as, just like that, that one more little flirt sends your head spinning once more and your face heating up.

You swear, usually, you wouldn't be this ditzy, especially not with a guy. But this guy is Charles Leclerc.

Charles beams, finishing his drink and setting it down on the table, his arm reaching near you in order to do that, before looking back up to you and saying after, his soft greenish eyes taking you in as he teases quietly, in a gentle, respectable voice, "Getting a bit shy now on me?"

You swallow, glancing away, your heartbeat pounding in your ear. "Not... really."

He smiles and murmurs, taking one more step closer, so he's standing basically right next to you now, inches away, "Then why don't you look me in the eyes?" A soft hum escapes his mouth as his hand gently touches your chin, tilting your face towards his own. His soft smile turns to a smirk as he jokes, "Head up, princess. Your crown is falling."

You know there's no going back when a line that would usually make you roll your eyes by how corny it is makes you feel butterflies down within your stomach.

You decide to convince yourself that it's just the tone, and has nothing to do with the words that actually came out of his mouth.

"Stunned speechless, princess?" he asks, eyebrows raising. "I thought you'd be used to this attention, from guys a lot more handsome and charming than myself."

"That's just the thing..." you swallow, gazing into those eyes. "I don't think I've ever met a guy that's as handsome and charming as you."

His eyes flicker in amusement and gratitude before he licks his bottom lip and nods, glancing around the room, before murmuring, turning back to you with the cutest little smile, "Y/n, I like you."

"From what I know about you, I like you, too."

His smile widens and those adorable dimples deepen. "And I just realised something somewhat unfortunate."

Your eyes immediately grow concerned, and before your brain has a chance to run possibilities, you ask, "What is it? Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, yes." He's now looking out at all the people at this party. Most people are talking, but slowly more and more couples have begun dancing in the middle of the floor to the lovely music being played live. Slow, classical, but absolutely and utterly pleasant. The kind of scene you could imagine in a royal ballroom, someplace far away and hundreds of years ago. "It's just that..." Charles continues on. "I seem to have missed the memo that I'm supposed to have a date for this party... All these couples dancing, and I've no one to dance with."

You stare, swallowing, thinking you know exactly what he's getting at, but being thoroughly too scared to ask.

That's when he looks right at you, his eyes bearing into you, and says simply and quietly, "I'm sure you with me... dancing, no one would be able to keep their eyes off of us."

You swallow, your eyelashes fluttering.

Is this a dream? Because you swear you've dreamed of stupid fantasies just like this one before.

You barely squeak, "I... for some reason, I reckon you're right."

He grins and holds his hand out to you, before whispering the most anticipated words: "Care to dance, my lady?"

You let your hand slip into the one he's holding out to you. "Why, I'd love to."

He beams and gently grips your hand, before pulling you out onto the dance floor with himself. His hands find your waist, and you put your arms on his shoulders, your sweaty hands clasped behind his neck. You dance together, letting him lead the way. At first, that's all it is, him gazing romantically into your eyes with that charming twinkle in his eyes, until, after a while, he mutters, just so you can only you can hear, "Are you comfortable?"

You nod, your gaze never leaving his, a little simper grazing your lips before you say, "I'm having fun. Charles."

He winks at you- sort of. His other eye scrunches up a bit, which makes you smile as you realise he really can't wink very well. But you don't mind. You like it. It's cute.

Besides, he seems to be doing everything else right, anyway.

"Oh, good," he says as he suddenly dips you in rhythm with the music, sending you into a fit of surprised giggles as he chuckles softly, too. When he brings you back up, your hands slip down to rest against his chest as you laugh.

And he looks at you like you're just the most beautiful work of art he's ever set eyes upon.

A look like that would be enough to make anyone's heart skip a beat. Especially from Charles Leclerc.

"Your laugh is almost better than the music itself," he compliments. "It's like all I want to do now is make you laugh."

You smile, shrugging. He continues to sway you as you talk. "It's not very hard to make me laugh."

"Oh, good. Does that mean my job is easy?"

You shrug, grinning. "All I'm saying is that it shouldn't take much, Mr. Leclerc."

He chuckles. "Just Charles is fine."

You beam. "Okay, Charles."

It's then that he takes your hand up and twirls you in a circle, making you happily squeal, which turns into more giggles, before he catches you, dips you low, and brings you up, so all the sudden, there he is, with one hand holding yours and the other around your back, with his face merely centimeters from your own.

You gasp, the giggles getting caught in your throat as you stare into his eyes.

"Did you think I was going to kiss you, princess?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of how hopelessly bright pink your face must be. "I- You might."

He smiles and whispers, "Do you want me to?"

You swallow, staring, almost paralyzed by the question. Do you want him to?

The question hangs in the air, until you sigh, somehow conquering your bad case of speechlessness and murmuring, "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind it if you did."

His eyes travel between your eyes, before finally resting on your lips as he whispers, "Perfect." And he leans in, kissing your lips gently, like he means it.

And when he leans away, he looks at you like he really did just kiss a goddess.

You feel like you might just faint right there in his arms. And this time, you really do mean it.

Charles dances with you and talks with you the entire night, up until he has to go. Now he stands by the snack table, where he first walked up to you, facing you with a little smile.

You stare, every fiber of your being wishing the night wouldn't have to end. You swallow. "Well, I guess this is it, then, huh?"

His eyes soften. "I guess so, Y/n. It's been fun."

You smile softly, your heart aching, though you know you've already gotten tons more than you would have ever asked for or imagined. "It has been. Charles."

He smiles, taking your hand in his. You can feel a piece of paper in his palm, and are about to ask him about it, but before you can, he leans in and gently kisses you for the last time. As he pulls away, he murmurs, "Well, princess, it's been a pleasure."

And with that, he leans away, slips his hand out of yours, and turns walking out. Leaving the slip of paper in your hand.

You watch him walk out of the building until he's completely out of sight. Only then do you open your palm as look at the paper, which has presumably Charles's swirly manuscript scrawled across it.

I've loved this night together, Y/n, and I hope we can turn it into many more, if I charmed you as much as you charmed me. I hope you won't forget me like I won't forget you

Text me if you get the chance; I think I've gotten the privilege of meeting the princess of Monaco herself tonight

Followed by a phone number.

And that's when you realise that this isn't the end. Why, this is only just the beginning.

"You got what?" Gabriel stares at you, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"I got Charles Leclerc's number."

He stares at you, dumbfounded, before suddenly leaning back, shaking his head, crossing his arms across his chest. "Okay, okay. Now, what's the point of this prank?"

"It's not a prank! I swear I'm being honest! I can show you the texts."

He leans in, eyebrows raising. "Go on."

You take out your phone, pull up the texts, and hand the phone to him. You watch in amusement as Gabriel reads it, scrolling, his face progressively getting more and more shocked the longer the phone is in his hand.

Finally, he hands it back, and murmurs simply, eyes wide, "No. Fucking. Way."

You grin. "Told you!"

"How? You're seriously going out with him next Friday? Charles Leclerc is pulling up next Friday in his freaking sexy Ferrari to pick up my sister for a dinner date?"

You shrug, liking to finally be on the front end of the teasing, and seeing Gabriel, The Tormentor of All Your Childhood, basically, reacting like this. "Yeah, pretty much. I mean, it's not that crazy..."

"Oh, shut up!" your brother snaps, giving you a gentle shove, rolling his eyes. "We both know you're just ecstatic about this."

"You're just jealous. You want Charles to take you on a dinner date."

"Hey-!"

"What?! You sure act like you want him, too!"

Your elder brother just rolls his eyes, shaking his head and standing up saying promptly, "Y/n, you, my beloved sister, are thoroughly a lost cause."

"You won't be saying that when Charles is my boyfriend!" you squeal with a little giggle as Gabriel begins walking out of the room.

"Actually, I will be! And I'll be saying that in your guys' fucking wedding party, if I have to!" your brother calls back obnoxiously from the next room. But you can hear the laughter in his voice.

And you can also feel the butterflies in your stomach.

"Charles, it's beautiful..." you gasp softly. You stand on his boat, in the middle of the night, just you and him. He has his arm around you, holding you close to his side, and you look out, back towards the land, towards the beloved city that you both call home, lit up in the night with it's millions of lights, shining out, reflecting on the sparkling, beautiful Mediterranean Sea. Water gently beats on the sides of the boat, soft waves gently swaying it, and cars driving far off in the distance can be heard, the sound travelling across the water. The cool salty sea breeze gently blows your hair, tossing it gently on your shoulders, refreshing your face and bare arms. And Charles's body, with his arm around you, warms you, keeping the breeze from chilling you and causing goosebumps to begin appearing on your arms. You inhale the fresh, perfect, silent air. "It's just perfect."

He hums, nodding. "It is, isn't it? This is my spot, in the middle of the night, that no one else knows. But when I thought of the perfect place to bring perfection herself, I thought of right here. Because this is the only spot where I can close my eyes and just be."

You swallow. "But what about me? We've only just met? How can you call me perfect if you hardly know me?"

He stares ahead. Is silent for a while, before saying gently, "I suppose I wish to know exactly who you are and what makes you radiate such... perfection. What makes my heart drawn to yours like a magnet?"

You gulp. "Oh, stop saying stuff like that. It's all too early."

He finds your hand and squeezes it as you lean your head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

You sigh. "Well, it's alright."

He nods, and says, "I suppose I've just finally found who I'm looking for. It's like you're exactly the girl I've dreamed of. Everything you tell me. About yourself, about your life. What makes you tick, and every single thing you love. It's like..." he trails off.

"I suppose I feel the same..." you murmur.

You feel him lean down and kiss your scalp. You shut your eyes as the cold wind gently strokes your cheeks.

Charles took you to a restaurant, and you sang in the car ride there, and it was like he just fell even harder. He had looked at you like you're the entire world herself, and let every single note fill his being.

It's like your heartbeat was synced with his own.

"Y/n, look up."

Your eyes flicker up, and you tilt your head to look up, where Charles is looking.

"Wha-"

"Honey, the stars."

You stare, taking in the heavenly lights, your eyes slowly finding more and more, finding the blanket of glimmers adorning the sky like jewelry on the most lovely queen.

It takes your breath away.

"Someday," Charles says with a wistful tone to his voice, "I hope I'll be able to say I love you to the moon and the stars and all the way back. But right now, at least, I can tell you with confidence of this:" he looks back down at you. You meet his gaze before he continues, "All the stars in the sky and planets in the system and galaxies in the universe. Every single lovely thing I've seen on earth and in the heavens- I am convinced that none of it has anything on the kind of beauty that effortlessly shines through you, inside and out."

You stare in utter awe of him.

And that's when he takes you in his arms and kisses you with all the emotion that those words invoke.

It seems like a lot of words for just having met someone. The kind of story that could either fall apart within months, or become the most adoring, beautiful relationship that lasts a lifetime. But if the world around you tells you anything, it tells you that the world is full of beauty. And if the look in Charles's eyes tells you anything, and the way a puzzle piece seemed to fit the moment he kisses you, then you know how this story promises to end.

And aside it all:

Hasn't the prince of Monaco finally found his princess?

[natandacat]

For s3 i either want armand to be lost in the fog absolutely no contact whatsoever with any of the cast (potentially they could do something fun by putting him in his suicide attempt era now and hes currently somewhere doing his thing with sybelle & benji) OR i want him to be fucking everyone but like. In secret.

Louis is fucking armand bc of bad divorce decisions and bc its somehow a better idea than fucking lestat right now (aaaand he kinda accidentally called daniel claudia during his early fledgling craze so hes forbidding himself from fucking him until that starts making sense). Also the sex was real good for 74 years and fucking around is a bit too san francisco for his taste so as long as he doesnt think about it too much this is a good arrangement. Armand is NOT allowed to call him maître or to mention anything serious at all though. The longest sentence they say to each other is like "take off your clothes" and thats IT.

Lestat is fucking armand bc louis wont fuck him and armand is looking reaaaally dishevelled these days and its activating his obsession with dolling him up. Lestat gets to give him long scented baths every time he shows up grimmier than the last and dress him up in whatever high fashion garments hes got in his closet that armand can make snide comments about -which they both enjoy as old snobs. Also gabrielle might be more around bc of the akasha business so shes on his mind a lot and armand is always eager to indulge his mommy kink as a way to one-up gabrielle.

Daniel is fucking armand but armand does wipe his mind about it bc he still wants to do the whole absent father thing as a misplaced act of what he believes is kindness but also hes very lonely and he cant help but indulge in the fantasy of a fledgling who wants him around (which is kinda real by daniel molloy standards but armand is convinced that he knows best and daniel hates him. Which is true but daniel kinda just needs like an apology and to scream at him for 3 uninterrumpted days which armand cannot comprehend for now)

None of them are aware that everyone else is fucking armand so when they meet theyre all like "ah yes armand... havent heard of him... yeah its been years..." when they just got their backs blown out like 2 hours ago

[dalliancekay]

The 'Aziraphale Still Believes in Heaven' Take

Is one that I see so often. Too often. The way many fans (still) say Aziraphale is so naïve, he's never learned anything, he never changes, Metatron just offered him a promotion and he happily jumped on it. Happy to go back to Heaven. Still in their clutches. Leaving Crowley behind. Cos nothing lasts forever. Amirite? Poor long-suffering Crowley. So patient. Goes through so much. Aww. Takes that say that because Crowley never told Aziraphale about the venom in Gabriel's "Shut your stupid mouth and die already", Aziraphale has no idea that Heaven is not the good guys, that he still believes they are on the side of truth and light.

Takes that claim Aziraphale wants Crowley to come to Heaven and be an angel again so they can be happy like in the good old times. Takes that basically say that Aziraphale is stupid. And blind. LISTEN Do you mean this Aziraphale:

Who knew before Crowley did that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, that things are wrong and one can get in a lot of trouble for a thing as minor as a suggestion to improve things. Is this the Aziraphale that would seriously suggest to Crowley, who he was immediately deeply anxious over, to go back to 'good old times'? What good old times? How is Heaven a place of light when:

A bunch of angels comes down to Earth to bully and PUNCH ONE OF THEIR OWN?

Why would he think they are the light when they shame him for being who he is?

And yes, Aziraphale wants to do good. But that's not tied to him being an angel. And it's not a bad thing ffs! Crowley does good as well. Aziraphale might be the only one who knows, but he knows. Maybe getting humans out of the Garden to seek knowledge was always a (certainty) possibility, and maybe not, but it was Aziraphale's decision to arm them.

And She didn't make him Fall for it. And do you remember when:

Aziraphale first openly questioned that Heaven was actually doing what God actually wanted? He had a think after the Flood, didn't he. He did what he thought was right. He trusted Crowley over his fellow angels, with his own sense of rightness. He and Crowley saved the kids that Aziraphale triple checked the Archangels saw no problem in letting die to make things easier. And She didn't make him Fall for it. In Edinburgh:

Az re-evaluated his assumption that grave-robbing is bad and did a full 180 degree turn when he learned it can be spun another way, trying to save the grave-robbing girl AND the possible future lives of children that could be helped via more learning. And when we come to Metatron and his threats, we don't see the full conversation, but don't we see enough? Aziraphale says that he's not interested. Metatron keeps nagging at him. Pushing the symbolic coffee from Coffee or Death at him. Flattering him with obvious untruths. After all, Aziraphale knows what Heaven thinks of him. He tried to reason with Metatron before. Metatron tells him they know how deep his disobedience lies:

Aziraphale is not a fool. He knows this is an offer of come quietly or we will find a way to destroy you and your demon this time. Aziraphale didn't have to hear Metatron's quip of: "For one prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story. For it to happen twice, makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem." He knows the system is rotten. He knows for a LONG time. Did you see his face when he met Muriel and realised what a lonely sad existence they lead.

AND Crowley doesn't love Aziraphale despite the fact that he's being used to get out of trouble, being made to listen about random things the angel enjoys from symphonies to food and plays, and who continues to believe in goodness and kindness. CROWLEY LOVES AZIRAPAHLE BECAUSE OF THOSE THINGS AND because he sees Aziraphale for what he is, an angel who thinks for himself, changes his mind, angel who is brave, who stands for the right thing, who sacrifices his own happiness for the safety of others, especially the demon he loves. They are the same. They are lonely. They are one of a kind. And they love each other.

Aziraphale wants to stay at home. In the home he built for himself and Crowley. On Earth where he's found so much to love. But he knows it is impossible. As Crowley confesses his love, Aziraphale struggles to stay on his plan. He'll miss Crowley terribly. He wants them to be together. For him, they were an 'us' the whole S2. However tenuously. Fragile existence and all that.

But even this was ripped away from him. And whatever he's planning, he knows he needs to do the first steps on his own. He can't submit Crowley to the torture that being in Heaven is going to be for him, an unwanted, despised angel. He can't make him come. He can only ask him. And Crowley said no.

So he leaves. Furious. And determined. Whether it is to burn the place down or find God and ask Her all the questions to Her face I don't know. But his love will push him through.

And if I see one more simplistic take of the snarky demon is really good isn't he, so that means the stuffy angel is bad (and needs to change to be worthy of the demon) I will curse their dreams with lines about shades of grey. AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY ALREADY LOVE EACH OTHER

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"The little spoon." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

During a night of drinking, you let Maggie, Glenn and Carol know that Daryl likes to be the little spoon.

A/N: There is no plot, just a short imagine hehe hope you like it!

You were very drunk.

While Carol, sitting on the couch, in the same state you were in, laughed at a rather funny story, you grabbed the moonshine next to you on the floor, and took a swig before laughing with her again. Night had fallen in Alexandria hours ago, but without the family members there, the two of you took the opportunity to have a good time. Carol loved you like the daughter she could still hold on to, she used to braid your hair, make you breakfast, and after years together, you two protected each other. You loved her just as intensely, because she had been the mother you lost when the apocalypse began.

But the laughter died on your lips when the door opened. Glenn and Maggie entered first, followed by Daryl, and Carol squinted to get a better look at them, because at that point, the alcohol had blocked her vision like a thick fog.

“Hey, guys!” She waved the bottle in the air, smiling warmly. “We were waiting for you!”

“With several bottles of alcohol apparently.” Glenn chuckled, as Daryl bent his knees in front of you to be at your height.

Your own vision was blurry, but you could still see the slight smile on his lips.

“You look familiar.” You tilted your head, looking at him oddly. “Have we met before? Because I don’t usually say this to people, but you are very, veeeeeeeery handsome.”

The others laughed as Daryl gently pushed some strands of hair out of your face.

“'kay, party girl, you’ve had too much to drink.” He took the bottle and set it aside. “We better get ya to bed before ya start sayin' weird things.”

“Again.” Maggie muttered, hiding her laughter.

“Like what?” You asked, frowning.

Daryl chuckled.

“Last time ya got drunk ya told Father Gabriel ya didn’t go to church 'cause ya were afraid of being set on fire 'cause of yer sins.”

Carol laughed a little louder than everyone else.

“That can happen, you know? Besides… we’re all sinners! Look at yourself, trying to get me into bed without buying me a drink first. At least ask me to marry you before you try to get in my pants.”

You tried to grab the bottle from behind him, but Daryl pushed it away.

“We’re already married, sweetheart.”

“We are?”

“Yep.” Daryl took your hand, lifting it up so you could see the ring on your finger. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Awww,” Carol said, and turned to look at Glenn and Maggie, who were still enjoying the show. “He said forever.”

“Yep, and I mean it.”

For his part, Glenn helped Carol. But as Daryl placed his arms under your legs and shoulders, to lift you up so he could carry you into the bedroom, a silly thought flooded your mind and pushed out of your lips before you could stop it.

“Did you know Daryl likes being the little spoon?”

Daryl felt the heat rise to his cheeks as everyone stopped to stare at him.

“I like it, so what?” He said embarrassed, but trying to keep a straight face so no one would laugh at him.

You waved goodbye to everyone, your hand in the air before disappearing up the stairs. The moment you two reached the bedroom, Daryl sat you down on the bed, and the world started to spin around you, (even though it was probably you), while you watched silently as he knelt down in front of you to take off your black boots.

“We should totally have sex right now.” You chuckled.

Daryl chuckled as well as he pulled your pants off after.

“i aint gonna make love to ya, sweetheart. Not tonight.”

“Why not?” You asked with some disappointment.

Daryl looked up, and you threatened to get lost in the ocean of his gaze.

“I don’t wanna make love to ma wife when you’re this drunk. Now get yer pretty ass under the blanket.”

Your black t-shirt fell over your thighs, and with your lips turned down in a sad expression, you moved on the bed until the blanket covered your body, enveloping you in a pleasant warmth as Daryl pulled off his vest, shirt, and pants until he was down to his boxers.

You tried not to look for too long.

He laid down beside you, on his right side, his left hand searching under the blanket for your skin beneath your t-shirt, rubbing your back softly.

You sighed at the touch of his hand.

“G'night, peach.”

“Goodnight, love.” You murmured softly before closing your eyes, and within a few minutes, you fell deeply asleep.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 13.5)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

(So, this is a quick update because chapter 14 keeps getting more complicated but I promised a continuation last weekend and couldn’t get it out due to health concerns. I hope y’all can forgive me for such a short chapter piece, but thank you for reading regardless!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“You’re here.” 

You paused, hands already wrapped around Lucifer’s as the words spilled from both his and your mouth. In spite of everything, you giggled semi-hysterically and the stalled expression on Lucifer’s face relaxed as well. 

He looked at you between the bars of the gate, eyes shining to the point of tears. You pressed harder against the bars of your cage as if to slip through, one hand raised to cup his cheek and thumb the cherubic blush there. 

        “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again.” He admitted, surrendering to your touch. 

It hurt to smile but you couldn’t help yourself. You grinned through your own tears, dripping down your cheeks before falling to the clouds beneath. You were struck by his admiring gaze, even with the blurring of your vision. It reminded you of the many times he’d looked at you when you were a mere mortal and not privy to the knowledge you had now. 

      You had tried so hard to fight against what that look meant, stupidly thinking you wouldn’t fall prey to it if you feigned ignorance. 

      The King sniffled, hand intertwined with your own as you explored the planes of his face once more. He closed in on the bars that kept you from each other, slumping forward to press his forehead to yours. He inhaled deeply, trying to absorb everything that was You without heeding what lay behind him or beyond. His wings had expanded to their full glory, acting as a screen between you and the less than welcoming retinue that had just attacked him. Lucifer couldn’t provide full privacy from the throng of nosy citizens gathered behind you. But at least you were shielded from Gabriel and his goons for the time being.

“It’s alright.” You soothed, fingertips fleeced through his blond hair. “We’re together now.” 

      The noise he made was more a sob than a laugh as he intended, but your heart swelled at the sound. For a moment you soaked in the touch of his face against your own, in all of its cold, marblesque glory. If you closed your eyes, you could convince yourself that you were back home, spending another lazy afternoon trussed up with Lucifer in your bedsheets. 

                Your eyes opened again, suddenly. 

“Lucifer, where’s Charlotte?” You asked. 

      The father of your child seemed out of sorts at the question. His mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish’s before enlightenment brightened his features. 

“She’s fine!” He replied. “She’s all tucked in her crib, fast asleep.” 

“Her crib… at the Farrows?” You gulped down the shot of bile that raced up your throat. 

“Well… yeah,” Lucifer’s smile wilted at the hysteria building behind your eyes like a tsunami wave. “I couldn’t very well bring her with me!”

“So you left our daughter with those people?!” You couldn’t help the shrill accusation from leaving your mouth when a million and one horrible possibilities ran through your head. 

“No! I would never!” Lucifer denied, head shaking vigorously. “She’s being watched over by the goats!”

Your eyebrows rose, rearing back. “What?”

“The goats! The ones with little wings and tails that I made? I showed them to you right before you… well, you know!” Lucifer caroled. “Remember?”

You stared at him blankly until the metaphorical lightbulb in your brain flicked on. Incredulity bodied you.

“You left… our baby… with stuffed animals…?” 

Lucifer stilled for an instant before reanimating until his body resembled less a sturdy human’s and more a flexible jello mold as his arms pinwheeled at his sides. The Devil’s wings flapped and shuddered with his anxiety.

He matched your hysteria with a frenzied laugh. “Oh! No! Not— I wouldn’t! I-I-I gave them sentience! Th-that-that was the plan! I was gonna tell you before but — I-I guess it slipped my mind after you started glowing!” 

Lucifer attempted to steady himself after the sudden burst of emotion as you stared in alarm, though he was panting when he leaned forward. 

“They were made for Charlotte. To cater to her every need! And if anything happens, they know to get me right away!” 

His eyes went wide and earnest. “I would never, ever, ever put our baby in danger. I swear to you. Never. I-if I could’ve brought her with me, a-and been sure that no one would try to take her, I’d —”

Your fingers brushed over his lips as soon as he was within range again. 

“Okay.” You interrupted.

 Lucifer blinked.

“Okay?” He asked. 

You nodded, taking his hand once more to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I believe you.” 

Your kiss had the desired effect. Lucifer melted into a daze, smiling almost shyly at the gesture before you looked into his eyes again. You tried to communicate your sincerity without words, for it would take far too long to tell him everything you’d discovered upon arriving in Heaven. 

     You sighed softly, feeling his warm breath on your face. Lucifer gravitated toward you, close enough to kiss between the infernal bars holding you back… 

“Lucifer, I…” Your words came out shakily, the heartbeat you shouldn’t have ringing in your ears. 

His lips were a hair’s breadth away. Too distracting. Your eyes fell shut. “I… lov-”

“I fucking told you this would happen!” 

You froze. 

A harsh voice rose above the din and fray, bringing reality with it to jolt you upright. 

Lucifer’s expression fell, warped by shock and horror as you were ripped away from his grasp and pulled back from the gate as if it were on fire. You gasped as your back collided with another’s chest and an arm wrapped around your midsection. 

      Your head snapped up to see Adam’s ghoulish mask hung above you, glaring over your head at Lucifer. He continued to squeeze the life out of you as he flew back and stopped a good meter away from where you’d been standing. 

       “Let go of me!” You shouted, squirming in the man’s grip. You dug your nails into his forearm, trying to pry him off of you. An unusual feeling lanced up your spine, something that was not quite pain but uncomfortable and indescribable. It further disoriented you as you were dragged back.  

A force of wind blasted over you and Adam, stopping the latter in his tracks with a curse. The gale blew back your extremities, forcing you to cover your face to block the brunt of it. You squinted through it to catch another glimpse of Lucifer. 

       The Devil’s wings pumped through the air in his rage as he stood ablaze in red, ivory and gold. He looked much like he had before your death: a fiery comet promising destruction to anything in its path. Pure energy radiated off of him from all sides as his horns protracted from the crown of his head. Fire bloomed between them to match the blood red that had overtaken his eyes, and the jagged stripes rippling over his porcelain face. 

His fangs gnashed and once delicate hands contracted into long claws that grappled with the gate panels until they bowed and bent under the pressure. 

Gasps and screams filled the air all around you.

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