#if any one has any questions or tips i'd love them! i tried to be as comprehensive as i could

[zaldritzosrose]

I Could Be Your King (Aegon x Wife!Reader)

Request from @bridgertonbee1814, hope you like it!

Summary: Your marriage to Aegon came long before war, but it was war that threatened to tear you apart. You were the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin. Just that was enough those who claimed to support Aegon to make him question his own wife's loyalty. As did you, torn between your mother and husband. Your own feelings would make the decision for you.

CW: MINORS DNI, afab reader, she/her pronouns, reader is has the canon Strong features but is only described once, Aegon being a devoted husband, mentions of death, p in v sex, profanity, Aegon needing love and affection.

Words: 3525

You'd die for what I'd kill to give away. They're holding me, but I don't want to stay…

The crown was a heavy weight on Aegon’s head. You could see it every time he would enter your chambers of an evening. Preferring the warmth of your rooms over his own – once belonging to the late King Viserys. Another thing he wished not to inherit. To be King, to now sleep in his father’s chambers. He bore the weight of not only his father, your grandsire, but also the weight of the war that had broken out the moment he had the Conqueror’s Crown atop his brow.

If it wasn’t for you, he would have run. Anywhere, as far away as he could. Anywhere would have been better than how he felt now. His one beacon was you. His one constant. 

But he was afraid he would lose you.

Bury me, steadily, cold blue lips. Reaching still, holding on for one last wish…

You heard the door open, but you didn’t look up. You recognised the footsteps as your husband. But you could not bear to look anywhere but the parchment in your hand.

Lucerys was dead.

Lost to the waters around Storm’s End, torn from the skies by Aemond and Vhagar. The ink on the parchment smudged with every tear that spilled from your eyes. Your little brother gone, your uncle to blame. Your husband’s brother, to blame. 

You could feel Aegon stood behind you, his hands rested on the back of your chair. Though he said nothing. 

“He’s dead…”

Your words were barely audible. Aegon wasn’t even sure you were talking to him. He already knew, of course, it had been the topic of the council meeting he had come from. And now, looking at your tear-streaked face, he remembered the smug smile on Aemond’s. Even when his brother claimed it to be an accident, that smile remained.

“My darling I-“ 

But Aegon didn’t know what to say. What words could he say that would make you feel better? Or even simply not make you feel worse?

Would you give it all just to have a little? Would you give it all to be in the middle?

The letter was from Dragonstone. It wasn’t from your mother, but you imagined Rhaenyra was distraught. The letter had come from Princess Rhaenys, without her seal so it wouldn’t be intercepted and kept from you. War had barely started but your allegiance was being questioned.

The daughter of Rhaenyra, but the wife of Aegon. If there was any worse place to be, it was torn between two sides of a war.

We're all going down. We all want a crown…

Aegon simply stood behind you in silence. You could feel the tips of his fingers brush against your shoulders. Wanting to touch you, comfort you, but resisting.

“I assume you know? I imagine Aemond is quite proud of himself.”

Your words were harsh, but Aegon didn’t take them to heart. You were in pain, and you were right to be angry. He tried to reach out again, barely brushing the blanket wrapped around your shoulders before you had stood from your seat.

“It was the main concern of today’s council, yes.” Aegon said simply, his voice low and tentative. As though he was standing in front of a wild animal.

You were much like a dragon now, the venom in your words your fire. He could almost see the rage burning behind your eyes.

“Ah, a concern. Is the death of my brother only a mere concern!?”

Aegon stammered. That was not what he had meant, and if you hadn’t been so consumed by your pain you probably would have seen that. His hands remained outstretched, held up now as though he was surrendering.

And they all want me now. But I don't want to drown…

The letter was scrunched in your hand, but the words were branded into your memory. You had accepted such pleas, but not after the death of Lucerys. 

Your mother needs you. Your brothers need you. We all need you.

That is what Rhaenys had written. Pleading to the love you held for the other half of your family. To the mother who had fought hard against your betrothal and marriage to Aegon. Who had all but demanded, through coin pressed to a servant’s hand, that you use your marriage to him to secure the throne for her.

You wanted to scream. At Aegon, at the gods, you knew not who. You simply wished to scream. There would be suspicions about your loyalty, you knew that. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to wish to reply to. Because you were torn, feeling like you were being split down the middle. 

Half your soul tied to your mother, your brothers. The other half, to Aegon.

“That is not what I meant, my love, please…” Aegon took a tentative step forward, gauging your reaction before coming even closer.

He was a hair’s breadth from you, hands still outstretched but his whole body was tense. You didn’t move away, but you didn’t reach out for him either. Aegon could see the letter in your hand. Part of him wanted to read it. He knew there was more than grief over Lucerys in your heart. More than anger toward Aemond.

“Did they question my loyalty? Did they expect me to run back to Dragonstone and join my mother’s cause?”

Aegon’s hands began to lower, one moving up to run through his hair. Of course that would be your first thought, because you were right. After the fury directed towards Aemond, especially from his mother, the next question from the cancel had concerned you.

And Aegon hated to admit it, but for a second, he had thought the same. Would this be what turned you away from him? Would this be the one blade to break the tie between you both?

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king. I could be your...

He wanted to ask you. To demand you affirm your loyalty to him as your husband and King. But he could never do that to you. The idea that he had even questioned you, even in his mind, made him feel sick.

“They did, and I made quite sure any such words were never to be spoken again,” Aegon said gently, seeing the frown on your face ease just a little in response.

To know he had defended you, especially his council, his mother, his brother. Your heart softened just a little at the thought. Aegon moved forward again, holding one hand out to you. You wanted to take it, to feel his skin on yours, but you couldn’t move yourself to do so.

“You are my wife, my queen. Any words against you, are words against me.”

Aegon took a chance, moving his hand to cup your cheek. You didn’t move, but you didn’t push him away. He could feel the dried tears on your cheeks, his thumb wiping the ones that began to fall anew.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king. I could be your king…

His wife. His queen.

Those were your titles, but not the ones you knew we used behind your back. 

Bastard. Daughter of the false queen.

Those were the words muttered behind your back. They were not stupid enough to say them to your face. It used to hurt you. Such insults had been levied against you since you were a child. Though not as often as your brothers. But now, being married to Aegon, they had been easy to forget.

But it seemed even being crowned as his queen did not protect you.

Your past is calling back to you again. You've run so far, and still your scars are there…

“But it will not stop them thinking it, husband.” Your voice was resigned. Though your rage had dissipated, the pain was still there.

Aegon wished he could stop it. To control the words, the thoughts of those around them. This was a crown he did not even want, and now it was causing you pain that you needn’t feel. 

He was fighting a war within his home now and beyond it. And he feared he may win neither.

“Then I will do nothing but defend you, my love.”

But you knew it would never happen that way. No matter what happened, you would always be Rhaenyra’s daughter. The bastard princess.

“You have a war to fight, Aegon. We have a war to fight.”

You had a dragon; you were the queen. You would be expected to fight, even if Aegon would not say the words. But could you fight your mother, your brothers, Daemon, Rhaenys. Even Baela and Rhaena. Could you really bring yourself to take them down if you had to?

You've reached the edge, over your head, but you've gotta fight…

Days passed since the letter. Aegon had done his best to keep you and Aemond away from each other. Knowing the sight of your brother’s killer would only cause you pain. And what kind of husband would allow his wife to hurt?

He had sent Aemond on patrols, utilising the might that was Vhagar as a way to keep Aemond occupied.

As for you, he had spent as many nights as he could at your side. Hoping his presence was enough to calm your mind. To show you that his loyalties lay with you.

The words had never passed between you both. But there was an affection between you. Whether you could call it love, that was not something either had ever crossed your minds.

But more recently, it had been a constant in your thoughts. Was it your love for Aegon that stopped you replying to Rhaenys’ letter? Or was it the fear of choosing your mother over him?

Every time you thought of leaving, your heart felt heavy, and your stomach felt sick. And no reason you could think of seemed to make sense, except for love.

Aegon had returned to your chambers again that night, and he looked more tired and drawn than usual. You were already in your nightclothes, laying on your bed with a book in your hand. He didn’t even ask before stripping himself down to his smallclothes and crawling into the bed at your side, settling immediately back into the pillows behind him.

“How was the council this evening, my darling?” You asked, and Aegon froze momentarily at the endearment you graced him with.

Aegon couldn’t remember a time when you had called him anything but uncle, husband or his name. Though such names often fell from his lips, he had never once asked the same from you.

So, to hear them from you now…

He did his best to ignore the flutter in his chest. Settling back and turning to press his lips to your temple.

“It appears Aemond and Cole are content to undermine me at every turn.”

Aemond’s name hitting your ears made you stiffen and Aegon noticed but said nothing.

“Undermine you?” You set your book down, turning your attention to your husband instead.

Aegon sighed, his head falling back against the headboard. The turmoil on his face broke your heart. You knew he never wanted to be king, he had told you as much. But you could tell he was trying with everything he had.

I can if you let me try. I can if you let me try.

Your whole body turned, your hand resting atop his and playing with the dragon egg ring on his finger. Your face nestled against his neck, gently inhaling the scent of him. A scent you had come to enjoy. You would smell it on the pillow…no his pillow…when he would wake before you in the mornings.

Aegon let a smile tug at his lips at your closeness, at the gentleness of your touch. Even when his day felt like the worst of his life, you always seemed to be the balm to his worries.

“They have been meeting in secret, it seems, to plan this war without my knowledge.” 

Your hand tightened on his. Anger simmered in your stomach at the audacity. Was there no one but you who supported Aegon and believed he was capable of ruling without interference?

That was the first time you had been so absolute in your thoughts. That Aegon was a good king. That he could be a good king if he were allowed to be. 

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

You sat up, surprising Aegon it seemed as you straddled his thighs.

“Those fools underestimate you, Aegon.”

Aegon’s hands went instinctively to your waist. Your relationship was not without physical pleasure. If there was one thing Aegon knew he could do, it was please you in that regard. There was never, and would never if he could help it, be a shortage of intimacy between you both.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

 “None of them listen to me. Not my council, not Otto, not even my mother anymore.”

Your hands cupped his face, your fingers rubbing gently circles on his temples as he tugged your body closer. It had been a growing problem from the moment Aegon had called his first council. You had, in the beginning, assured him that those men would come around and see him as someone capable of great things.

And at the time, you had simply said words you knew would calm him, soothe his worries.

Now? You meant every single one. You truly believed Aegon could be a king to be remembered. He already had the favour of the smallfolk; he simply needed the trust of those within his walls.

“Then we make them see, we find a way to show them what kind of king you are.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Aegon was quick to return it, his arm snaking around your waist and pressing you tighter into his chest. His other hand tangling into your hair, weaving your silken brown locks between his fingers.

“We? How will my queen help me?”

Your heart raced. It was like something had switched inside you. With Aegon’s lips on your skin, his hands gripping and pressing you to his chest, and the need that simmered in your core, it was like you were tumbling further and further into something unknown.

“Remove those you cannot trust, punish the ones who defy you.”

Was it selfish on your part? Yes, Aemond had received little consequence for his actions, but you had never once asked Aegon for such things. That was his brother, and though you were his wife, you knew what it was like to be torn between two sides.

But now that Aemond, and Cole, had embarrassed Aegon so, you knew he would want to do something.

Aegon kissed you harder. The arm around your waist loosening as he bunched your nightgown up around your hips. Your words had ignited something within him. He realised he had been blind to his most steadfast supporter.

You, his niece, his wife, his queen. Even when you were torn between him and your mother, you had never wavered in your loyalty. Even when it pained you. You had stayed at his side.

The moan that fell from your lips the second his fingers pressed against your pearl was like music to his ears. His rhythm was slow but forceful. Your hips already rolling to meet his hand. 

“Even my brother? I know your feelings on Aemond, my beautiful queen,” Aegon whispered, his lips moving down your neck.

Your head tilted back as he kissed a heated trail down, settling on your breast as his free hand tugged the straps of your nightgown away. His question floated in your mind. He knew you well enough to know your anger towards Aemond would never dissipate.

You could only nod as Aegon’s lips wrapped around your nipple, rolling the bud between his lips as your pleasure overtook your ability to speak.

But Aegon knew you had a point. Aemond did as he did because he thought Aegon was a pushover. Someone he could belittle and embarrass again and again. Your words only reminded him that no one should be safe from a king’s ire.

“Aegon…” you sighed, and any other questions he had were long gone.

He tilted you back gently, urging your legs to part as your back hit the bed below.

“I should bring you to my council, my love, it seems you are the only one I can truly trust.”

Those words hung heavy as Aegon descended on your breasts again, one suckled between his lips as he kneaded the other in his hand. His hips nestled between your thighs, the only barrier being your smallclothes.

“You are my king, my husband, there is nothing that would turn me from you…”

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

You had said it. He was your king. Those were the words he had longed to hear. You had called him king before. When you would tell him he was a good king, when you remind him, he was the king.

But you had never called him your king.

The fire in him threatened to burn him from within. Knowing you backed him, knowing you were entirely loyal to him, it made him desperate to show you that he was just as loyal and bound to you.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

The words had fallen from your mouth before you could stop them. But you didn’t want to stop them. You believed them wholeheartedly. He was your king. Yours. And you would do anything you must to make sure he believed them too.

The sound of fabric tearing had you sat up on your elbows. Your smallclothes in tatters in Aegon’s hands, and a hungry look on his face.

“Say it again.”

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

His hands tugged your legs wider, before leaning back and tugging his own smallclothes from his body. His cock stood proud against his stomach, hot and slick as he kept you splayed out in front of him.

“My king…”

Aegon had never felt so desperate for you. He had desired you, every time he had bedded you, but this…it was like it would pain him to not have you.

His queen. His comfort. His wife.

His lips crashed against yours. He could already feel the slick heat of your cunt against him, you were as needy as he was. As filled with desire as he was. There was little gentleness as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing inside with a groan that rumbled out of his chest. Aegon was never rough with you, unless you asked it of him. But his body was working separate from his mind now.

“Again.” 

He buried himself deep with one, swift thrust. Your back arching from the bed as he bottomed out. The stretch was enough to have you moaning before he’d even moved.

But when you didn’t answer, he slammed his hips back into you.

“Say it again.”

Your legs hooked around his waist, your nightgown hanging loose off your shoulders as your breasts bounced with ever harsh thrust.

“My king…yes…my king!”

Your hands gripped the sheets as he pounded into you, fuelled by a heady mix of lust and love. Aegon’s hand was quick to tug both of yours above your head. Holding them tight as his pace only quickened.

Your moans were pitching higher and higher as you raced closer and closer to your peak. Aegon groaned into your neck as he felt your walls begin to spasm and clench around him. He wouldn’t last long, he could feel it.

“Oh, my queen…fuck…come for me, gods, come for me..” Aegon panted into your neck, pleasure licking at his spine.

His hand was tight around your wrists, your back arching from the bed as you peaked. Muscles spasming around his cock as his name fell like a prayer, over and over from your lips.

I could be your king. I could be your...I could be your king.

It wasn’t long before Aegon followed, painting your inner walls white with his seed as he peppered kisses of your heated skin. As his pleasure simmered down, something else began to seize at his heart.

“I love you…I love you so much...” 

Your mind remained foggy with pleasure, but you heard those words. Aegon’s hand released your wrists, and you immediately tugged his face to yours, pressing a hungry kiss to his lips. It was a mess of teeth and tongues, but Aegon could feel every ounce of emotion in that one kiss.

And when you pulled away, breathless, you finally uttered the words that had his heart soaring.

“I love you too, my king.”

Aegon taglist:

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @sylasthegrim @aemondsbabe

@kaelatargaryen @sihtricsafin @thought--bubble

@towriteloveontheirarms @anjelicawrites @multyfangirl

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @khaleesihel

@arcielee @tumblin-theworldaway

(If you want to be added or removed, let me know!)

[amoristt]

anon: can you write a ghost x reader fic about y/n being wrongfully accused of being a spy and she makes a run for it and ghost finds her? YESSSS . LOVE ITTTT

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - wanna tip me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

- Heavy footsteps, the air thick, the wall in front of you even thicker. Never did you think that beige wallpaper would be such an obstacle in your way as the echoing sound of footsteps gain on you. The door is shut tight, but the room is still under construction and lacks any furniture to help barricade you in. There isn't even a fucking closet for you to hide in. The only thing other than light brown plank flooring and a door with a half-painted white frame, was a window overlooking a yard.

It was roughly a five-story drop- too high to continue your run unscathed, but at this point, you've got some pretty heavy options to weigh. On one hand, potentially cut your life short, on the other, get caught and dragged out fighting.

Not that it would be much of a fight. You didn't even have time to grab your gun or knife before you made your escape.

Your heart aches. This wasn't right. While you weren't sure what dirt Shepherd had on you, what documents had been falsified as evidence of your alleged 'treason', but whatever they were they must have been pretty damn convincing to have Graves up in arms almost instantaneously. Tears bite at your eyes- had been since you first ran, but now they were heavier. Angrier. You wipe them harshly and red blotches bubble at your cheeks.

Shaking, you bring your radio to your lips. You can't hear them, but they can surely hear you, switched to a different station so you couldn't use their chatter to work around them.

"Please," you damn near sob. "Please, there's a mistake. There's been a fucking mistake, I haven't done anything. You really think I'd do this to you guys of all people?"

Grave answers your pleads like a poison, settling deep into your lungs, replacing all the air in its wake.

"Enough running. Come out and no one has to get hurt."

There was no use in arguing, you realized. They would never hear of it- not the people that truly mattered when it came to imprisonment, anyways. Even if you could convince your humble squad of your innocence, it would never hold up in the end. Besides that, by the way Graves spoke to you, the way he had looked at you, like you were a fucking bug that needed squashing, told you all you needed to know when it came to fighting against Shepherd's allegations.

You knew, ultimately, that running wasn't going to exactly help your case, but you didn't know what else to do. It felt like everyone had turned against you in a moment. You hadn't even had time to process anything. One moment you were joking with your crew, and Graves scampered off the take a rather important call.

Shepherd, was all he had said before disappearing.

And god, when he came back, red-faced and tense, the accusations poured.

Soap tried to defend you. Ghost fought to question, to figure out what the fuck was happening, but the supposed 'evidence' was apparently damning enough to convince Graves through and through that you were a spy.

A rat.

Ghost's voice, laced with desperation and confusion, when Graves began to 'explain' your betrayal haunted you. More so than the act of being accused of treason, even. You just stared at him, past that skull mask, into those familiar dark eyes. Even now, as you ran for what could possibly be your life, that half-hidden expression was all you could see.

The moment Graves brought up arresting you, and even moved to try and grab you, your brain damn near malfunctioned. Your body reacted on its own.

You fucking ran.

Though you weren't sure how someone had found you, this was the position you were in now. The curtains blew out with the breeze, soft and inviting, almost like it was beckoning your jump. They unfurl before you like great wings, and you stare down at the green grass below. You'd surely be crippled by this fall. If not that, it could very well kill you.

Your heart seizes, your lungs struggle to take in air as panic begins to sets in like vines creeping over your nerves. For a moment, you freeze. There was no other way out.

But then there's a slam on the door behind you, so great that the frame creaks and sharp chunks of wood launch off and scatter onto the floor around you. You flinch and your body once again takes priority over your mind, tossing your leg over the sill and swallowing hard. You're going to have to make the jump for it.

You heave yourself up and over, planting your feet flat on the sill, your entire body shaking with both fear of the leap and the deeper issue at present. One hand braces against the top of the window, the other covering your mouth.

Behind you, the door bursts open. Wood splints and tears as it slams into the wall.

"Enough!" A voice shouts, thick with accent and heavy breaths. "You're going to break every damn bone in your body."

You can practically feel Ghost's gun pointed straight at you. You cringe.

Would he pull the trigger?

"Might as well do it now before someone else does trying to beat a confession out of me that'll never fucking come." You didn't mean for your voice to carry so sharp, so laced with the pain and hurt of being hunted by your own friends.

By Ghost, of all people.

How could he be so fucking blind after everything you'd been through together? You wanted to reach out and smack him upside the head. You'd patched each other up more times than you could count, you trusted him with your life, he'd trusted you with his.

Or so, you had always thought.

But the way he's looking at you has to second guessing.

But, ultimately, you knew the game at play. He was a good soldier- the best. He was a former lone wolf, distrustful to his core. You'd worked so fucking hard to get close with him and now it was all crumbling down. Even if you stayed and explained yourself, there would be no point. You would be arrested, processed, thrown in jail labeled a traitor to your country and more people than not would be celebrating it. You'd never see the light of day- shackled and stuffed into a prison so far off the map that God himself would struggle to find you.

And you would be damned if you were going to just sit there and accept your fate. Even if it meant you appeared just as guilty as Shepherd had painted you. You just needed to get away for a bit, collect yourself, and have the time to figure out what the hell was going on. But it seemed that was never in the cards for you. 

The ground below looks menacing, but more forgiving than the fate that awaits you.

You can hear Ghost taking heavy steps forward, and you wonder why he hasn't just come up and ripped you from that sill already.

"Get down," He barks, and you shake at the tone, refusing to look back at him. Defiance shines through as you refuse to climb down.

"I'm not going down for something I didn't do!" Exasperated, your knuckles whitening with your iron grip. It takes what feels like eons to prepare for gravity to play its course, but in reality, it's been mere seconds. You try to force down air through the boulder in your throat.

For a moment, everything stills. You knew the outcome that was bound to come to this. You knew, deep down in your heart, that your fate was not a good one at this point. Either you die on impact, or you'd be wheeled into the interrogation room on a stretcher. That alone makes your skin crawl- interrogation. Knowing you had not a single detail to offer despite the amount of 'tactics' that would be used on you... The torture would essentially be never-ending.

You were well and truly fucked.

"I have to do this." You try to keep your voice level, but it betrays you. You hear Ghost suck in a sharp breath, the sound of his gear shifting. At this point, you don't even care if he shot you. At least you'd die with the person you loved.

"You don't." Ghost's voice is quieter, closer. Now you can really hear it- the sadness. The desolation. It wracks you to your very core.

With a hasty glance over your shoulder, you take in the sight of him. Maybe the last sight of him you'll ever get the chance to see. His looming figure stands feet away, gun still fixated on you. He looks defeated. Or, perhaps, torn. Riding that fence and teetering on the edge between believing you or hauling your ass back to Shepherd kicking and screaming.

Tears well in your eyes when realize his finger isn't even on the trigger. You nod at him sadly.

"I do."

And then, you give yourself to gravity. For a split second, you're weightless. Without much family back home, you found yourself thinking about your squad. How would Soap react? Gaz, or Price? Would they try to find your innocence, or would they take your cowardly actions at face value? Would Graves struggle with the weight of your life if he discovered his manhunt had been unwarranted?

Would Ghost be okay after firsthand witnessing such an awful, selfish act?

Would he ever forgive you?

With a sickening crack, your body slams into the brick wall of the building and you're left dangling in place. Your shoulder screams as you hang, and when you snap your attention toward the searing pain, you see two large hands grasped tight at your wrist and elbow.

"Damn it!"

Ghost's voice reaches you like a bullet had been ripped through your chest. He'd caught you, holding fast and unrelenting. You tried to fight, struggling against him, trying to reach up and pry those fingers away but they didn't budge.

It was over. You'd been caught. You were going to fucking prison and forever labeled a traitor to your country and everyone you ever knew. Everyone you ever fought with, and for, would remember you as a rat. A stain on the fabric of the U.S. Army.

"Let go!" You cry, feeling yourself reeling back into that room with Ghost's unwavering grip. "Just let go!"

Ghost grunts a sharp no before you're hauled up, into the room, and held fast by his arms caging you against him. He crushes you to himself, fingers near digging bruises into your skin and he's shaking you realize. Tears well up and flush past your waterlines, disappearing into the cloth of his gear. You haphazardly beat on his chest with a loosely formed fist.

"They're gonna fucking kill me" You sob. "It's not me, I didn't do anything."

You feel Ghost's arms leave you, and you realize now is when you'll have to surrender. You'll have to hang your head low and saunter away and into the clutches of the armies worst. You're crying into your hands now, not caring what you look like. Not caring this was the first time Ghost had ever truly seen you cry. And god, did you cry.

"Simon, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't me!"

He's silent as he watches you fall apart right in front of him. Though he uncurls his arms from your shaking frame, he doesn't back away, looking down at you, like he's unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to believe anymore. As you press your forehead to his shoulder, your legs threaten to give out from underneath you.

"Why is this happening." Your voice escapes you as a whimper, broken up with sharp, painful breaths. "What could I have done for someone to do this to me of all people? I know I'm not a saint, but,-" Finally you look up at him, babbling. "Fuck, what do I do?"

Ghost's eyes narrow as he watches you, taking in every word. He places his hands on your shoulders, the first familiar gesture you've felt yet.

"You think you've been framed?" He asks, tone cool despite the waves of emotions in his eyes. You nod.

"That's the only explanation I can think of, but why? I would never do this to my country, my home." You flicker your eyes up to his own. "I would never do this to you."

You can see him trying to work it all out in his brain. Weighing the evidence he'd been presented with versus the fact that he fucking knew you. Knew you like the back of his hand, knew you without even having to think about it. He knew you as he knew himself, and he just knew you wouldn't do this.

"So what is it then." He starts harshly, so terribly confused it brings about anger, like he needs the answer right now because he doesn't know what to do next and time is running thin. 

Shaking your head, you shrug. "I don't know. I just-... I know that there's something going on here. Maybe by mistake, maybe intentionally, I don't know. But I didn't fucking do anything."

Ghost digests your words. You continue.

"I just need time to figure it out and I don't have it. I've got 141 and god fucking forbid, the Shadow's coming for this at this point." your face falls. "...Did anyone try to defend me after I left...?"

Ghost stiffens and swallows hard. You nod, laugh hoarsely. Of course.

"It was fast. There wasn't time to think." He offers. It made sense. You wondered what would have happened if anyone found you up here. If it had been Soap, or Gaz. Or Graves.

His eyes are softer now, his breathing leveling. Surely he's made a choice, but you aren't sure of which. You pray it's in your favor, that he realizes that this is you you're talking about. You pray he remembers all the time, the trust. As you watch him, like he's miles away from you, you can't help but notice him staring at you like you're just mere arms reach away.

Like you'd never left his arms at all, actually. Still flush against him a crying mess of pleads and hurt.

"Ghost, how copy?" Grave's voice pipes up from Ghost's radio.

You still. Ghost lingers a moment, like he doesn't want to answer, his eyes dart from his radio and then back to you, and you press your lips into a tight line.

Don't fucking answer it, your mind begs. Don't do this to me.

When Graves repeats himself, urgently this time, Ghost drags the radio begrudgingly up his clothed lips. Mouth running dry, hands shaking, you take a step back.

'Please,' You mouth. Ghost shakes his head and refuses to meet your gaze.

He was going to turn you in, after all.

He was a good soldier.

You, in that moment, recall the moments you spend side by side with this man. This scary, intimidating man, that you'd found comfort in. The person you plucked from the litter and thought to yourself, this one.

And he hadn't wanted you in. You bulldozed your way through until he found himself picking you out in crowds, remembering all those little things about you that no one else seemed to give a damn about. Waiting for you in the morning, sharing his thoughts and time.

You had always hoped, in another world, you two could enjoy life without all the pain together. A life outside of the army. 

Surely, it would have been enough.

Face downcast, you hear him take a breath to speak.

"Clear." He says. "No sign."

There was no stopping the tears that spilled down your cheeks at that moment, mouth covered to muffle yourself, crouching down as your knees shook.

"Sonofa bitch! Regroup back at point A." Graves says with a sigh.

"Copy." Ghost says quickly, shoving his radio back into his belt. He takes a knee in front of you, and his hands cup the side of your wet face. You eye him, babbling thank you over and over again, sick with fear, gratitude, and confusion. A cocktail that left an unnaturally horrendous taste on your lips. He retrieves a hand just long enough to set his knife down o the floor in front of you.

"Now you've got time." He says matter-of-factly, but you can still sense that urgency in his words. He wants you to escape. To figure this out and come back to him his friend and partner.

He takes your discarded radio and switches it to the proper channel so you could keep tabs on their whereabouts and plans. The voices of your squad chatter on the line, Soap's voice above all wondering how the fuck this was even happening. Bless his heart, he even mentioned being worried for you, which was quickly shot down by Graves reminding him of your betrayal.

As Ghost crouches before you, massive, all-powerful it seemed, you watch his eyes. He pats your cheek. His gloved finger points to the window.

"Ever try a stunt like that again, I'll kill you myself." He bites. You nod, struggling to compose yourself. He stands and your mind begs for him to stay, to be with you during this, but you know he can't.

He lingers in the doorway like he's thinking the same thing. 

"I will... Do what I can. Watch your back, soldier."

And then he's gone, and It's silent save for your harsh breaths. You shakily pull yourself up from the floor, grasping the knife he'd given you- his favorite blade entrusted to you. You'd wait for nightfall and make a run for it, find shelter day by day, and hopefully reconnect with him somewhere to go over what the hell was going on.

You prayed he'd find a way to convince them of your innocence, ask the right questions to the right people, and have more players in your court.

It would likely be your only way out of this awful nightmare.

[wileys-russo]

i thought of a PERFECT lessi fic. so r is a teacher and one of her students have a cute crush on her. lessi notices the little gifts she’s getting and gets jealous

school yard crush II a.russo

"-alright that's the bell and i will see you all tomorrow. make sure to be sensible and smart when walking home or by the road please year three!" you called out after your students as they filed out one by one, chattering happily that the day was finally over.

"miss?" you looked down to see one of your boys was requesting your attention, hiding something behind his back. "yes ben?" you gave it to him as he shuffled from foot to foot. "this is for you bye!" he handed you a folded piece of paper and raced off out of the room causing you to laugh.

watching to make sure all of them made it out safely you returned to your desk, having some homework to mark before you could head home hopefully before five.

taking a seat you opened the letter, a smile growing on your face as the boy had scrawled a poem using the letters of your name to compliment you. "so cute." you chuckled, taking a photo of it and tucking it away in your desk.

"lessi? you home?" you called out a few hours later as you let yourself in, not having seen her car in the driveway. dumping your bag on the counter you noticed a heart shaped note stuck to the fridge indicating your fiancé had headed to the market to grab a few things.

unsure when she'd left or when she'd return you headed off to shower, ready to wash off the day and get comfortable to continue the marking you'd not yet finished.

stepping out of the bathroom and into your bedroom you could hear music and smell the inevitable scent of the blondes cooking signaling she was home. changing into her arsenal travel top and a pair of shorts you made your way toward the source of the alluring scent.

"hello you." she saw you before you reached her, stirring something in a pan as she sent you a beaming smile. "hi baby." you kissed her gently in greeting before clinging to her tightly, feeling an immediate sense of calm settle over you as the two of you shared an embrace.

"you smell lovely." the striker mumbled as she rubbed your back and kissed your cheek, the two of you stepping away from one another. "it's this new body wash, it's caramel scented." you yawned, rounding the bench and settling yourself on a stool.

"when did you get that?" alessia asked curiously, moving to chop some carrots as she kept a watchful eye over what was already on the stove. "one of the kids at school gave it to me, i tried to give it back but he started to cry and i felt too guilty." you admitted with a sheepish smile.

"mm teachers pet? every class needs one." alessia laughed, sweeping the carrot off the board and into the pan. "no i think he has a crush, it's quite sweet really." you chuckled, alessia's smile disappearing at that. "should you be encouraging that?" she questioned with a small frown.

"i'm not encouraging it!" you chuckled as your fiancé simply hummed. "alessia russo are you jealous of an eight year old?" you teased with a grin, the blonde sending you a glare over her shoulder. "no." she grumbled with a frown.

"my love i mention that my name's gonna change once i get married like every five minutes. i'm not leaving you for him less." you laughed at the question.

"i'd also be marrying you in prison if you did." alessia retorted as you clicked your tongue in agreement. "look its harmless babe. i'm sure his parents got the body wash anyway, you know very well they have no issues trying to bribe me to pay their kids a little extra attention. and you have no issues eating the chocolates that follow!" you smiled standing up and moving to hug her from behind, poking her very ticklish sides as she squealed and grabbed your hands in hers.

"he did write me a little poem today though. you know you could take some tips from this kid i don't see any love letters from you!" you teased, placing a few gentle kisses to her neck. "i leave you notes in your lunch all the time!" alessia protested with a huff.

"yeah that say things like 'property of future mrs russo' or 'reminder that you have the best fiance in the world'." you laughed with a roll of your eyes. "they make you smile do they not?" alessia raised an eyebrow as you had to agree.

"then you're welcome."

"mm so romantic." you smiled, the blonde pecking your lips before you removed yourself, grabbing your phone and waving her over to read the poem from today.

"i guess that's a little bit sweet." alessia admitted with a sigh, stealing another kiss and returning back to the stove.

"what's cookin good lookin?" you questioned as you slid your laptop out of your bag, placing it down in front of you and moving your bag to the floor.

"beef ragu." you could have moaned at the answer, instead sighing happily as alessia chuckled at your obvious excitement.

"if food is the way to the heart you could have asked me to marry you the first night you cooked for me and i'd have said yes." you grinned, flashing your wedding ring at her as she sent you a wink.

~

"come on come on come on, i want butts in chairs within thirty seconds or we'll do extra math all afternoon instead!" you warned playfully as your class took their time dawdling in from their morning break. though at that threat they sprinted in and hurried to sit down making you laugh.

"it's quiet reading time to calm down a bit, everyone go and grab a book please!" you encouraged, gesturing toward the bookshelf on the back wall.

"why did you get us to sit down if we had to get up again to get a book miss?" one of the girls called out with a groan. "because i can! now off you go." you waved, taking a seat at your desk. focused on the paper in front of you you jumped slightly as you glanced up and found a pair of eyes much closer than you thought.

"these are for you miss." ben thrust out a handful of flowers and weeds, messily tied together with a hair tie as dirt showered down on your desk making you wince. "did you pick these out of the garden buddy?" you asked to which he nodded with an eager grin.

"okay. i think we need to have a little chat." you smiled, standing to your feet and gesturing for him to follow you outside. "3C my listening ears are on, so keep reading and no silly business or its times tables for all!" you warned seriously before stepping out of the classroom and partially closing the door.

"how come you brought me those flowers ben?" you started gently as the two of you sat down on the bench outside your classroom. "because my dad gets my mum flowers." he answered matter of factly as you bit back a smile.

"okay. so you got them for me because..." you encouraged for him to finish your sentence. "you're really pretty, like my mum." he again answered confidently. "now ben that is very sweet, but you know you and me aren't like your mum and dad." you started softly.

"i'm your teacher, so we have a special relationship but not like the one your mum and dad have. i am always here if you're feeling sad or upset or confused or angry or if you just need to chat, and i'll always do my best to help you. but i already have a fiancé, and i love her like your dad loves your mum." you continued, the boys face falling slightly but nodding along.

"and she gave me this ring which means that we promise to only love each other like your dad loves your mum. one day when you're ready and a lot older, you'll find someone like that too! but you have to stop getting me things okay? its very thoughtful but i want you to only think of me like a teacher or a friend, okay?" you finished as ben nodded.

"now you and olivia are pretty good friends right?" you diverted as he confirmed. "so why don't you go and give her the flowers? because you can give best friends things like that too to make them smile! just not teachers." you clarified as the boy let out a small oh and nodded quickly.

"alright. thank you for listening! back inside you go." the smile returning to his face as he raced inside you let out a sigh, taking a moment to collect yourself and return, clapping a pattern and grinning as all your students clapped back.

~

"only me!" you perked up as your fiancés voice rang through your shared home, a thump as she tripped over on the way in making you grin as she hurried to the kitchen.

"welcome home clumsy." you greeted her as the blonde returned and wasted no time flopping her taller form down on top of you. "how was dinner?" you asked, running your hands through her hair, alessia having gone out with a few of her team mates after training.

"it was lovely. missed you though!" she pouted as you kissed it away, having declined her invitation in favor of lesson planning. "brought you some leftovers. have you eaten?" she pushed herself up to hover over you as you shook your head with a guilty smile.

"baby it's nearly nine thirty! no more work, i'm banning it." your fiancé scowled, closing your laptop expertly with her foot and hauling you up to your feet. "those are for you too." she kissed your cheek and nodded to a bunch of flowers on the counter as she moved to heat you up some food.

"oh lessi, they're gorgeous. thank you!" you smiled softly in appreciation as she placed a bowl into the microwave. "are these just because i told you about ben today?" you teased, having called the striker during your lunch break to fill her in on your conversation.

"no! they're just because i love you." alessia defended, moving to press her body into yours and bury her face in your neck as you hummed with a chuckle, the taller girls lips beginning to mark a trail down the column of your throat as she pushed you a little harder into the counter.

"maybe it had a tiny bit to do with it...but just a tiny bit!"

[harleehazbinfics]

Home is where my Heart is.

Chapter 1: A New Home Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 1395 A/N: aaaa im so happy i can finally post it. pls enjoy~ it's hazbin hotel guys, that's a warning in itself

(edited as of Feb 20)

I hopped off the bus clutching my hat in one hand and my bag in the other. Lifting my hand off the hat, I reached inside my coat for a piece of paper.

“Angel Suites, 123 Bullard Avenue,” I muttered reading the paper then looking at the tall building in front of me. I sighed and went inside and was then greeted with a stench of tobacco from the clerk in the front smoking reading a magazine.

I grimaced and knocked on the wooden desk to gain his attention, from the lack of a bell. He lifted his eyes from the paper and narrowed his gaze to glare at me, causing me to break in nervous sweat.

 “Hi, I-I’m Miledy Calliope. I called you yesterday for an apartment room?” I tried to say out cursing at myself from my stutters.

He rolled his eyes, folded his newspaper to the side and opened a small drawer to his right, muttering curses as he looked for my keys. When he finally found them, he threw them at me to which I hastily caught, causing me to drop my belongings.

“The stairs are to the left,” he groaned in annoyance, opening his newspaper again and turning on the radio on his left increasing the volume, seemingly to drown me out if I had any more questions and then taking a drag from his tobacco.

I huffed and drudged to my now apartment room, it was cold and damp inside. It has a somewhat worn-out couch and bed, an empty kitchen. To save myself from a migraine, I plopped down on the bare bed and collected my thoughts to stay calm.

“This is better than nothing at all. Better than staying at that damned place for sure,” I complained quietly looking through the glass window in melancholy. I sat up and rummaged through my bag to find a little rabbit stuffed toy, squeezing it for comfort for being in a new environment and an entirely new life.

For a while, I did as much I could do to make the place cleaner than I found it and homier for me. As the sun went down, cleaned up myself. I wore a glittery loose dress, the length all the way to my ankles, accompanied by bright earrings and a fur coat.

After locking up the door, I headed towards my first gig.  I breathed out a sigh as I tried to shake off my nerves, I stood at the half-filled club. I turned my head when I heard a shrill call for my name.

“Miledy!” I see a short woman theatrically calling my name.

“Miss Mimzy!” I replied excitedly, “Thank you so much for having me!”

“Of course, no problem! Just bring in some bills, yeah?” she joked with her thumb and pointer together to sign for money while winking.

“I’ll try!” I shrugged with a smile.

After a while of talking someone gave me a cue to get on stage. “Good luck, honey!” Mimzy cheered.

As soon as I got on stage and sang in front of the mic with a sudden boost in confidence, I didn’t notice a fine gentleman sitting next to Mimzy greeting her and talking with each other.

“Mimzy! Good evening, my dear,” the brunette greeted tipping down his hat. “A newcomer I see.”

“Hi, Al!” she replied enthusiastically, “Yeah, I scouted her from the city down during my trip. Lovely, isn’t she?”

Alastor merely hummed amused and answered, “A pleasing voice indeed. Would you mind introducing me after the show? I'd love to get to know this new talent of yours.”

Mimzy raised her eyebrow a bit skeptical, “Sure, no problem.”

The further the songs went on the more Alastor was enchanted, barely able to take his eyes off her. However, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one to take interest in her, his face contorted into a sneer when he lustful stares the men had in his peripherals, as they enjoyed their liquor.

When I finished my stage, the place erupted in cheers, whistles and applause making me feel overwhelmed with the attention. I smiled and waved my hand at them, thanking them for enjoying the show. I bounded to Mimzy and her company, where she counted her money.

“That was fantastic, darlin’! Look how much money you raked in!” Mimzy cheered.

“Given how clear and beautiful her voice was, I'd say it's quite deserved!” the gentleman with a glasses complimented. I blushed and replied with a small thank you which he smiled at.

“Miledy, this is my friend Alastor, he works as a radio host right here in New Orleans.”

“Miledy, Miledy Calliope. I just arrived in town today actually,” introducing myself to him and shaking his hand, his grin subtly growing deeper.

“Well, I have to go check the schedules and see when I can squeeze you on stage again. Toodles!” Mimzy smiled with an obsessive glint in her eyes.

Alaster faces me once again, “Can I offer you a drink?”

My smile froze a bit, thinking about it. He analyzes me a bit before adding with a laugh in his tone, “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to harm you! I’m a frequent patron here and a very well-known voice and face here, you know? I neither don’t want to put my reputation to be at risk nor do I want you to have a bad time around here. Just think of it as a welcome gift as friends.”

I thought over what he said and smiled as he went on. I conceded to him, “Alright, why not? Sorry about being so skeptical.”

“No worries at all! It’s great that you’re on your guard. Not a lot of people are like me,” he teased bringing us to the bar.

“What? Tall and charming?” I retorted getting more comfortable around him.

He chuckled charmingly making me blush again, he then joked “Well, I was going for a kind respectable gentleman. I guess that can work too.”

I laughed at his not-so-subtle attempt to improve his self-image while his smile seemed a bit more genuine as he finally heard this woman laugh. He seemed to be enthralled with the image of me laughing and giggling at his remarks that he fished for more reactions out of me while we enjoyed a bunch of drinks.

The night grew colder, we started to gather ourselves and got out of the establishment.

“You sure can hold your liquor, darlin’,” Alastor remarked, he himself flushed red.

“I can say the same to you for a lanky figure like yours, sir,” I teased, “This was fun. Thanks for tonight, Alastor.”

His gaze softened and reached out pat my head which I indulged, finding his touch comforting. Oh, dear was I drunk.

“No problem. It was a fantastic night for me too. Do you have any plans anytime soon?” he asked keeping his hand on the top of my head.

“Mmm. I think I have to buy a few things for my apartment, why do you ask?” I answered, somewhat hopeful raising my eyes at him doe-ishly.

He breathed out a chuckle from my actions and replied, “Allow me to accompany you then. I’ll show you a fantastic store, one where your money’s worth spending to. I’ll free some time in a few days to show you around.”

“I’d like that. Thank you,” I smiled.

“Great! Now come, I’ll escort you back home. These streets are crawling with criminals at these hours,” he explained offering his arm out to me which I latched onto, growing creeped out as we strolled down to my place.

When we were half-way there, I heard a blood curdling scream as clear as day. It seemed so close to me, as if they were screaming in my ears, causing me to freeze and hold onto Alastor tighter. His perked up in alert as he circled his arm around me protectively, unbeknownst to me of the sadistic smile he had in the sick pleasure of the sound of suffering.

Reminding himself of the damsel in his arms, he rubbed had over my back and led me faster. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s nothing, just some pesky crows,” he lied.

I didn’t question further and walked briskly right next to him, blocking my ears as the screams slowly quieted down leaving it to my imagination.

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game, an AU where (somehow…) jason and tim (begrudgingly) team up in the search for a hero/battle for the cowl era (either when jason says tim should work with him on the gang stuff or when batman jason asks tim to be his robin) :]

for the ask game!

god, Search For A Hero my beloved. for the Search For A Hero version of their team-up, I think I'd write it something like this

I think the biggest reason Tim says no when Jason asks him is Jason asks Tim too early in the arc. as the storyline develops, Tim gets more and more desperate to best Ulysses, which is what pushes him to make the mistake that gets Ulysses' siblings killed. he's in a tight spot and he misjudges the situation. (i think the guilt he carries from that moment is one of the biggest inciting incidents for becoming Red Robin) so, i'd introduce Jason to the plot just a little later. just as Tim is on the edge of desperation. Tim isn't entirely adverse to working with villains if he thinks he can stay on top of them. so instead of sending Jason to prison, i think if Jason came to Tim at the right time, Tim would begrudging accept Jason's help

part of Tim's plan would be leveraging Jason's power with the mafia/mob scene in Gotham. they'd agree that topping the gangs would just cause a power vacuum (i'm pretty sure that's actually addressed in SFAH but i could be misremembering) so it's more about a balancing act, which is where Jason thrives. Tim is right on the cusp of being willing to do more morally questionable things, so it'd be a fun internal war for him to second-guess himself at every turn.

there would be such a delightful lack of trust in their partnerships. TIm has *zero* reason to trust Jason, and while Jason likes Tim enough, i don't think he's naive enough to put any trust in Tim. so there'd be moments where they don't fill each other in on aspects of the plan. Jason kills people behind Tim's back, Tim keys in his cop friend behind Jason's back. it builds the tension between them with a lot of hot arguments that get more and more charged.

the jealousy. there would just have to be a scene where Jason gets wildly jealous over Ulysses' complex over Tim. Ulysses tries so hard to pit himself as like, Tim's biggest adversary, his opposite. and Jason would *despise* that. sure, Jason is working with Tim, but part of the fun is that they're still enemies as they do it. i think it'd be sort of fun to have the moment where Ulysses blows Tim up be something Jason witnesses and he raises unholy hell about. because if anyone is going to kill Tim Drake, it's going to be him. and that angry possessiveness is what makes the romantic/sexual tension something neither of them can ignore anymore.

Tim deciding to put on the Red Robin suit to fight Ulysses would be where Jason just. goes full tilt possessive "he's mine i marked him that's my suit. see. mine. i said so." and Tim would push back but. what ground does he have to stand on bc he could've picked any suit with any cowl to protect his head after the blast, but he did choose Jason's. it was his own open invitation to Jason in a way. and well. they fuck nasty about it. and then Damian becomes Robin, so why not Tim keep the suit and just maybe, keep Jason in his back pocket.

and!! for the Battle for the Cowl version. man on one hand i love "Tim accepts Jason's offer to be his Robin" fics but i feel they lack a bite to them, so this is personally how i would try to pull it off, while being relatively in character.

so the biggest thing for me is, TIm agrees to be Jason's Robin not because he trusts or likes Jason, but for the same reasons he became Robin in the first place: to keep Batman stable. being Jason's Robin isn't about wanting to work with Jason, it would be Tim knowing there's no world Jason is ever going to stop and seeing Jason slowly tip over the edge of madness and well. if Tim was self-sacrificial enough to do it for Bruce and attempt to do it for Jean-Paul, he can do it for Jason.

him agreeing would i think startle Jason. like, Jason's offer was never particularly serious because he's at the point he knows Tim wants nothing to do with him. so when Tim says yes it sort of. snaps Jason out of the rage BftC puts him in. he's so startled but enticed by the thought, he willingly agrees to stipulations Tim sets, like no murder. like even if just to see where this goes, Jason jumps on the chance.

i'd really want to keep Dick and Damian as Batman and Robin, and the weird divide that would exist with Dick/Damian and Jason/Tim both running around as Batman/Robin and how off kilter that puts Gotham. like Gotham is so baffled by it, it actually makes criminals easier to handle. because they have no clue if they're getting the Batman who needs Robin to keep him in line, or the Robin who needs Batman to keep him in line. people know there's two Batmans, two Robins and no one knows quite what to do with that information. who's the "real" Batman? who's the "real" Robin? and on the personal level, the divide between Dick and Tim would be unmistakable. Dick would know what Tim's doing and try to convince him Jason is a lost cause bc well, Dick at this point *really* believes Jason is a lost fucking cause. So Dick's genuine care and concern for Tim just drives a further wedge between them.

i think there'd need to be a scene where Tim flat out asks if Jason even *wants* to be Batman. in a sort of attempt to slowly ween Jason off of being Batman, but also because i don't think Jason ever really wants to be Batman, he just wants Batman to be what his vision of justice is. and it'd be the first real heart to heart they have, discussing the legacy of the Robin and Batman mantles and how it's affected them. it'd be heated, but it'd be their first real conversation as just. Jason and Tim.

to me, i think the end goal of this AU would be Tim successfully "taming" Jason, and not in like a soft way, but in like a manipulative way, where even Jason knows that's what Tim is doing, but he just goes along with it because it's the first real human connection he's had in a while. also, i would work in Scarlet, Jason's sidekick in Batman & Robin (2009) as like. a pseudo daughter figure for them to help Jason find his humanity a bit. so it's not just Tim as Jason's rock, but also this misguided girl they'd both try to help. and well, then they ride into the sunset and all that, but still have a complicated, toxic dynamic they're both aware is unhealthy, but as balanced as it can be.

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (Part 8)

A/N: ok. Wahou. Firstly, thank you all. The love this has been receiving just makes me feel so happy. I'd like to apologize again i do take a bit of time to update as i work. I'd also like to thank evberyone who sends ideas for the story. PS: you can tip me a dollar if you want, but my content stays entirely free.

WARNING: violence, mention of death and injuries.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You heard the door close behind you. The boys had left and Simon was tense. 

"Who's that guy?" He asked. 

"That's Sergeant Peter Hansen." You explained. 

You headed to the fridge to check what you could cook tonight. 

"Since when did you know him?" 

"Since he moved in. Across the hall Simon." 

You answered, rolling you eyes. 

"I don't like him." 

You sighed turning back to him. 

"You're just jealous again." 

"No. Not this time. There's something off about him. " 

You smirked. He closed his eyes, realizing his mistake. 

"So… you were jealous of Alejandro?" You teased, slowly walking up to him. 

"That's…fuck…" 

"You didn't want him to flirt with me…" you kept teasing. 

He straightened himself as you were finally in front of him. 

"You didn't want him to kiss me… or even fuck me-" 

You had only time to blink. You were pressed against a wall, his body flushed to you. Face so close to you. 

"Bunny… don't play like that." 

You let out a shaky breath. It felt so hot all of sudden.  But you loved the way you rilled him up. 

"Why… don't like that thought…?" You whispered. 

"Hate it." 

"Why… cuz I'm yours..?" 

"Yes. My bunny.. only mine." He growled. 

You put your hand on his chest, pushing away. He played your game and stepped back. 

"Am I really?" 

He frowned. 

"You still haven't apologized… yet you come here… and you want me to be fully yours?" You teased again, with a smirk. He chuckled darkly, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. He wrapped his hand over yours softly, bringing it up to his clothed mouth. 

"Oh little bunny…" he growled. "I'll show who you belong to." 

You gasped. 

"You'll only want to be mine after it." 

You sighed. You had woken up that morning with Simon already up and about. 

"You didn't run this morning?" You questioned.

"No"

"Why?" You worried. 

"Couldn't get out of bed… weirdly enough… my bedsheets smell like you." He teased. 

Fuck. He knew you'd slept there. You feigned ignorance. 

"Yes. Very weird…"

Later on you had found him on the couch hugging Reaper. 

"Hey!" You complained.

"He smells like you." 

"That's not an excuse! Give it back!" 

After last night's announcement, the squad had decided to not leave you alone a single second. They spent the day at your place. Simon hadn't said a word about it so you suspected he was the one who called them. 

"Ghost. I'm at the base. Do you really think that hacker would try to get in? He's not obsessed." You had tried. 

Nothing had worked. The day was spent in your room, your custom built PC being much more useful for your work. The boys had been bringing you snacks and drinks to make you smile each time. You were trying to find any information. You had ended up using drastic measures. Illegal ones. 

You had gone back to old places, contacted old friends that remained seen by the governments as online terrorists. They, of course, had full secrecy with you. You had helped them all at some point,  so even weary of your new affiliations they accepted to help. 

Thanks to them, you had finally managed to get his username. Darkends. What a dumbass name. Could you show off more than that? 

Thanks to that little information you had finally managed to find a few things. Unfortunately, that asshole was involved in the worst things. The fact that he was after you disgusted you but filled you with the need to catch that asshole and make sure he was locked away for the rest of his days or better. Dead. 

As time passed, the boys had turn by turn come to tell you goodbye and see you tomorrow. It was dinner time when Simon knocked softly and walked in. 

"Hey. Dinner is ready." 

You had smirked. 

"You made dinner?" 

"What? Absolutely not. Food poisoning is not on my to do list. I ordered." 

You laughed. You stretched, sitting on your desk chairs had made your muscles sore. You let out a small moan as you felt your muscles stretching. 

You turned to look at Simon staring at you. 

"Fuckin hell…" 

He shook his head, turning around and walking out. 

You smiled and got up, following him. 

You weren't prepared for the view. You weren't prepared for the candles. For the dim light. For the coffee table to be decorated and pillows surrounding it. The blankets. You felt your heart melt. 

"Simon…" 

"Sorry, it's fast food… not a grand five star dinner…" 

You smiled, looking up at him. 

"It's perfect." 

His eyes softened a bit. 

"Come on let's eat." 

You followed and sat down on the ground next to him. Your heart felt so light. 

"Thank you Simon…" you whispered. 

"No.. not yet." 

You frowned. 

"Eat little bunny." 

You smiled. 

Dinner went along very nicely. You guys talked, slowly getting to know each other more and more. You felt so happy. Like he was finally letting you in. After dinner, you had cleaned up. Sitting back down on the couch this time, he had made pop corn and put on a movie. You snuggled closer next to him. He chuckled. 

The movie was funny. You were laughing as he seemed to just look at you. It made you slightly embarrassed. He was going to sip on his soda when he spilled it on his shirt. 

"Fuck." 

You giggled. 

"Take it off, I'll throw it in water before it stains." 

You paused the movie. 

"I'm sorry…" 

"Simon, don't apologize. I'm spending a wonderful evening." 

You smiled at him, the most honest smile you could throw at him. 

You got up to fill up the bathroom sink, putting some detergent in. He walked in and you froze. He was shirtless, his shirt in one hand. He was handsome. But the fresh bruises and cuts was what your eyes focused on. You must've had a worried look on your face because he slowly stepped closer, lifting your chin up so you'd look at him. 

"It's nothing. It's just a couple bruises." 

You frowned slightly. 

"Does it hurt?" 

He chuckled. 

"I've… had much worse." 

That did not, in fact, make you feel better. At all. He must have seen it too. He grabbed your hand, lifting it up to his chest. He placed it on a bigger wound. Clearly a gunshot wound. 

"This. Is my worst one. I was… shot and left for dead." He explained. 

You felt your heart shatter. Silence settled in. You leaned in, pushing both of your hands aside, and dropping a light kiss on it. He sighed. 

"I'm glad you're here…" you said. 

"I'm glad too. I haven't been for a long time. You're making me feel like it's worth it. You and the squad." 

You wanted to cry. You tried to keep it in. He dropped his hand, leaving yours on his chest. He was letting you explore. You softly passed over his pecs, featherlight touch over the angry violet marks. You let it softly trace down to his abs. You could feel his muscles twitch under your touch. The more they traveled south, the more you noticed his breath quickening. His chest lifting. 

Reaching his navel he swallowed hard. You traced a scar on his hip bone, very close to the hem of his sweatpants. He grunted.

"Bunny…" 

You kept tracing, now along the hem of his pants, stopping in the middle where you could see a soft trail of blond hair. Suddenly realizing what you were doing you quickly took back your hand as if his skin had burnt you. 

"H-hum… I'll put this to wash." You stammered. 

Ghost took a small step back handing you his shirt. 

"Yeah… sure..thanks." 

He stepped out, leaving you alone in the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror cursing yourself for what had happened. 

When you went back to the living room, Simon had put a t-shirt on and sat on the couch, head back staring up at the ceiling. You stood there looking at him. The realization of how important this man had become to you made your heart flutter. It also made you slightly worried. After all, you still didn't know what he wanted. Sure the little attention was adorable. But you needed to hear it. 

"Bunny. Come here." He ordered. 

How did he? You didn't even make a sound! 

"How…what?" You were confused. 

He straightened his head looking at you. You could see a thin outline of a smirk through the mask. 

"Come on." He patted the empty space next to him. "The movie isn't over."

The next morning, Ghost had welcomed you with a full breakfast ready. 

"Oh… thank you Simon." 

"Yes. You're welcome, please get dressed, I have to go to the base today." 

"What? I can-"

"No. No discussion. Get comfy. Take your laptop. I have to get through training some recruits, you're not staying here."

"Simon. It's already hell to get into this base when you work here. No one else would even try." you tried. 

"Bunny. No discussion. You're not staying alone."

God. Bunny. Everytime he called you that you wanted to drop to your- no. Wait. 

"S-simon…" you whined. 

"Do you want my hoodie?" 

You chuckled. 

"What? Wearing it around the house isn't enough for you anymore? Want everyone around the base to see me wear it too?" You teased. 

He leaned forward, incredibly close. 

"That sounds like wonderful fucking idea." He growled. 

His words ran back in your mind. You'll only want to be mine after it. God. Was he fucking succeeding? Cuz the thought of him wanting you to wear his clothes for everyone to see made you feel all kinds of warm. You tried to gain composure again. 

"I… don't think you deserve it yet." You whispered. 

He chuckled. 

"This isn't about deserving it. But you do as you wish." 

He straightened himself. Fuck. Now you wanted to wear his hoodie to base. You pouted. 

"I want the one with a pocket in the front…" you mumbled. 

"Good girl." He praised. 

You stood there in shock a bit as he walked to his bedroom. You took a deep breath walking to your room. He grabbed you as you were going to close your door, handing you his hoodie. You snatched it, pretending to be pissed. 

You heard him chuckling as the door closed. You got dressed, leggings and his hoodie. You smelt his scent as soon as you put it on. Did he… put his cologne on it before giving it to you?  

You shook your head, grabbing your bag. You made your way into the living room, still questioning yourself on how he made you comply so easily? 

You peaked around. Everything had been cleaned. No mugs left, no plates. 

"I could have helped Simon." 

"It's alright. I don't mind." 

You looked at him. He was in tactical gear, minus the vest. You couldn't deny how hot he was in it. You blushed. 

"You ready?" 

You nodded. 

He put a hand in the small of your back, walking you out of the door. He was locking the door when Peter stepped out of his apartment. 

"Oh hi Sparrow!" 

"Hi Peter!" You greeted. 

Simon automatically tensed looking at the man. 

"Lieutenant." Peter greeted. 

Simon didn't say anything. The awkward silence stepping in. 

"Hum.. so you liked the muffins?" 

The muffins… wait. You didn't try them. They weren't in the kitchen this morning. 

"Oh yes! Thanks, that was great. " You lied. 

"Nice. Hum… be careful your shoelace is untied." 

"Oh.." 

You looked down. You were going to bend down when Simon dropped to one knee. 

You blushed heavily. 

"Hands on my shoulder." He ordered. 

You obeyed. He took your feet and lifted it to his knee, tying your shoelace. He took all of his sweet time, making a show of letting his fingers dance over your ankle as he made sure everything was well and tight. He softly tapped your ankle to make you drop your feet as he stood back up. 

You could feel your cheeks burning. It was such an adorable gesture. But you also knew he was entirely jealous of Peter.  

They were staring at each other. The air was thick as hell.  

"Hum… Ghost." You called softly, putting your hand on his biceps. 

"We should go, we'll be late." You tried. 

He nodded, putting his hand back on your lower back. 

"Bye Peter!" 

You hurried away with Simon before the two men would explode. Not only was Simon's behavior weird, though it wasn't the first time, but Peter acting that way was even weirder. 

Once in the parking lot, Simon opened the passenger door for you. You froze when he grabbed the seat belt to buckle you up. Softly pulling on it around your hips, making your breath hitch. 

"Simon." You called. 

He looked up at you.

"You threw out the muffins didn't you?" 

He just stared at you. 

"Would you be mad if I did?" 

You bit your lip. 

"No. Just confused. Do you hate him that much?" 

You saw his jaw clench under his mask. 

"I don't trust him. At all. I want to keep him away from you. As much as possible." He groaned angrily. 

You let out a shaky breath. You lifted your hand to his cheek. He was actually angry and worried. 

"Simon. I'll keep my distance if you want…" 

Even if you didn't feel as if Peter was a threat, you trusted Simon and his instinct. If it made him feel better to know you were away from him, you'd happily comply. 

"Attagirl." He praised. 

You rolled your eyes faking annoyance. He closed your door, walking around to take place in the driver seat. 

"Let's go bunny." 

And on that note, you drove to the base. 

You could already see the team waiting for you guys when you parked in front of the training grounds. 

Soap had jumped to open your door. 

"Sparrow!" 

"Soap!" You mimicked. 

"Welcome back to the training grounds." Price smiled. 

"Thank you, I was forced to come." You smiled, earning a dark look from Ghost and a laugh from Price. 

"Understand us Sparrow. We'll all feel better having you where we can keep an eye on you." Price said. 

You looked at him through half lidded annoyed eyes. 

"Again, I'm on a highly secured military base." 

That argument seemed to be shoved under the carpet every single time. You were dragged inside by the men. Obviously, as you were completely out of place, everyone stared at you, making you blush. The guys walked you to a specific corner of the warehouses. You gasped. They had made a corner of training mats and blankets and pillows. 

You blushed. This was embarrassing. Adorable, absolutely cute. But in a room where soldiers were training to fight and kill, you had taken a little place out of this space, and turned it into a realm of comfiness. You felt like you were intruding. 

"This… guys. Too much." You stammered,  blushing and shaking your head. 

"Ah don't worry. Look, Ghost already made them look away." Gaz said. 

You turned around. He was right with one dark look, and probably a promise to turn the training into a living hell, Ghost had made everyone avoid looking this way. 

"Thank you guys really but perhaps something a bit less showy next time…" you smiled. 

They laughed. You sighed and climbed into the fort. It was actually incredibly comfy. You took your laptop, headphones, and hard drive out. You started preparing your things to work when soap approached with another man. 

You recognized him. You remembered him by his mask, hanging very loosely. He was training with Simon before their mission. 

"Hey, here you go" 

Soap dropped various snacks and drinks next to you and the other soldier dropped some more. 

"Guys. Seriously. This is too much." 

"By the way, this is Konig." He ignored.

The big man waved shyly. 

"Hey!" You waved back. 

"If you need anything you can also ask him." 

"Soap. I'm fine. Go train. All of you." You sighed. 

They hurried off. You glanced at Ghost who was looking at you, tightening his gloves around his wrists. You mouthed STOP to him. 

He shook his head making his shoulders roll. You were hypnotized by the movement watching him step into the fighting ring. You forced yourself to turn back to your laptop, trying to get some work done, you still had a hacker to find. 

When lunch time came around, the boys made sure to take you in a room a bit more secluded to eat with you. You chatted happily. You returned to the training grounds after that. 

The day had ended calmly. You had tried to stay focused on your work, but you found yourself often gazing at Ghost sparring. The way his muscles rolled. They way he powerfully sent the recruit's down. It made you feel hotter than necessary. That man could easily break you. Yet this morning he kneeled down and tied your shoe lace. Yet he lets you touch him as you wish without any consequences. Yet you were here, sitting in his hoodie that smelled like him. You were sure your heart was going to burst. 

The way he came to find you after training, his scent mixed with sweat. The way he often sent looks your way to make sure you were ok. 

The way he put his hand on your lower back to walk you back to his car. And buckled your seatbelt for you. His hand sometimes caressed the side of your thigh with his knuckles every time he stepped a bit too much on the gaz. 

The way he opened the door for you once you arrived home. 

"Y/N." 

You hummed. 

"Are you alright? You barely spoke on the way home. Something on your mind?" 

Yes. You. 

"Sorry. Just trying to find a way to make my search a bit easier. But it's not work hours anymore." You said with a smile. A little white lie he seemed to accept. 

"Alright. I'm gonna hop in the shower." 

You nodded with a smile. You went to drop your things in your room. Stretching a bit. Your mind was trying to figure something for dinner as the water in the bathroom started running. You walked back to the living room with Reaper in your arms. A knock at the door made you put him down on the couch. 

You walked to the door, opening it. 

"Oh. Hi Peter!" You greeted. 

Your conversation this morning came back running to your head. 

"Hey! Sorry to bother you, you got some eggs to spare?" 

"Oh hum sure." 

You walked in as he followed to the kitchen. You opened the fridge grabbing a pack of eggs. 

"Here." 

"Thanks." 

"No problem." 

He stood there awkwardly, glancing back behind him. 

"Hum… your boyfriend is not home?" He asked. 

You frowned. 

"He's not really my boyfriend. He's showering." You said leaning on the counter. 

"Really? Fuck, by the way he acts it looks like you two are married." 

You blushed. He had been acting as if you were his yes. And fuck. That's all you wanted. He had managed to do exactly what he said. Make you crave being his. 

"Yeah. It's complicated." You said. 

"Complicated enough to refuse a date?" He asked. 

You blinked. What? 

"Peter…" 

"It's alright. Don't worry. I just needed to say it. You're amazing Sparrow. And in all honesty, I kind of like you. I wanted to ask you on a date but. The big guy showed up." He said with quite a dark chuckle. 

"I'm sorry Peter. You're amazing..but I think my heart belongs to someone else." 

He nodded.

"I fully understand. Really. It's fine. I hope we can just be friends." 

You sighed, swallowing hard. 

"Perhaps it's better if we shouldn't. It's not fair to you." 

He remained silent for a little moment. He nodded. 

"I understand."

Simon walked in, freshly showered, stopping as soon as he saw Peter. The staring match had begun again. 

"Thanks for the eggs, neighbor." He said, nodding towards Simon before heading for the door. 

You heard the door close. Simon rushed to you.

"The fuck is that guy doing here? You ok? Hey look at me." 

You obeyed. 

"I'm fine Simon. He asked if I could give him some eggs, that's all." You lied a bit. 

"No.. there's something else. Tell me."

You sighed. You were scared of his reaction. Not towards you. But towards Peter. 

"He… came to confess." 

His gaze hardened.

"Confess?" He spat, almost if the idea made him nauseous. 

"Yes…" 

Simon looked frustrated but visibly he was trying to contain himself. 

"And what did you say?" 

You smiled. 

"Do you even need me to answer that Simon…" 

"Yes. Please." 

"I thanked him, but told him I didn't feel the same way. That my heart… was busy somewhere else." You answered trying to keep cool about it. 

He relaxed. 

"Alright. Next time just call me." 

You chuckled.

"Sure, sure." 

The next week was spent the same way. Sometimes you'd stay home together other times you were dragged to the base with Simon. 

The boys had started joking saying it wasn't bringing your spouse to work days, making you blush and earning a harsher beating while training for embarrassment. Though as Simon had told, he didn't care about what they said, as long as you weren't home and anywhere near that guy. Obviously he meant Peter. 

It was finally the weekend, you wanted to get home as Simon had promised to draw you a bath.

You were walking to the car with the squad and you were checking for something you might have forgotten. 

"Fuck." You cursed. 

"What is it?" Simon worried. 

"I forgot something inside. Be right back." You began to turn. 

"Hey come he-" 

"Simon, it'll be just a minute. I'm fine. Be. Right. Back. For god's sake this is a secured military base." 

He sighed, nodding. 

You jogged back to the door, opening it. You ran inside to your little corner, looking around for your charger. 

Suddenly you felt a chill. You slowly turned around. Your eyes widening. A black figure stood, looking at you, your charger in hand.

You stood very slowly. 

"Thanks, I forgot about it." You tried. 

No answer. Who were you kidding? No soldier dressed like a fucking ninja. 

"You're not here to chat and Gossip right?" 

This wasn't the first time you were targeted..not the first time someone tried to kill you. 

He took a step forward, you took one backwards. You had to run..you had to make a run for it. In a second you let your bag fall to the floor, fuck your laptop..and you ran. 

A hand grabbed your hair, pulling harshly at your scalp. You yelped loudly. He yanked hard enough to send you falling to the ground on your back. Your ears were ringing, the sound of your pounding heart making you almost dizzy. You crawled back and you were going to try to get up when the shadow dropped on you, charger wrapping around your throat. No… no. No. He was trying to kill you. 

Fucking secured military base my ass. You tried clawing at the man, using your legs to push him away. The more he pressed the less you could breath, and the more your vision started to fade. With a last desperate try you punched his throat. It was enough to make him falter. A second had been exactly what you needed. You pushed him away with all your strength, the adrenaline being the best help. You turned around, vision still blurry, you tried to stand just to be brought back down..you were terrified. You were going to die. He was going to kill you. 

And then suddenly you remembered Simon. The way he looked at you in the bathroom. 

"You're making it worth it." 

No. Fuck no. You couldn't die. You filled your lungs with air, your throat aching and burning. 

You let out the loudest scream your throat could, breaking something deep in it. His name was the only thing you could think of. The sound echoed through the warehouse, making the sound even louder. There was no way they hadn't heard you. No way. No way right? The charger had found its way back around your neck. This time much tighter. You were quickly losing consciousness. They heard you… they did right? 

You… you couldn't die here. You started to fade, unable to keep your eyes open. 

The memory of Simon's words accompanied you as you fell deep in the darkness. 

"I'm right here"

---------------

[noforkingclue]

That one Hobbit/LOTR anon, back again. If you're still up for it, can I have a dark!Thranduil x human reader? (I'm not sure it's mentioned in the movies, but just in case please AU him as unmarried or widowed.)

The reader trespassed in Mirkwood and was imprisoned by Thranduil. He doesn't believe her story so he keeps her locked up, or maybe just because he's petty. Thranduil has her brought out and questioned semi-regularly, it's possible he just bored. The details aren't super important.

Reader is pissed obviously, but treads the line and avoids being overtly disrespectful. She doesn't say much, but is passive-aggressive to a level that allows for plausible deniability. She doesn't seem cowed by him, doesn't kneel or bow, and never directly address him or use any honorifics.

Thranduil outwardly seems aloof and disinterested in all their interactions, acting like dealing with some common human was beneath him and an inconvenience. But, internally maybe he finds himself craving your subjugation and frustrated at your lack of proper deference.

Reader says something to the effects of "You may be a King, but you're not my King" and that makes him snap. That's the first time you see a break in his countenance and suddenly his hands are on you and he's right in your face. He's only ever had his guards escort you, he's never touched you before then.

Now, you're scared. Maybe he threatens you, maybe he makes you beg or prostrate yourself. There's a lot of options here.

In this prompt I don't know that he'd make it sexual immediately, I imagine he'd be in denial about being attracted so someone so much lower than himself. However, I'd leave it up to your discretion.

Thank you in advance!

So this is my first time writing another LotR/Hobbit related so I hope I've done a good job!

Also, I anyone wants any other fics from LotR/Hobbit please feel free to request them! I love both of these so I'm happy to write for them :D

Anyway, hope you like the fic :)

Title: Submission

Warnings: dark fic

You gasped as a strong hand curled around your neck and lifted you high off the ground. Thranduil was a lot stronger than he appeared. He easily lifted you into the air as the tip of your toes just brushed the ground. He brought you closer to him, your nose brushing against his.

“Would you care to repeat what you just said.”

His voice was calm and level but this close to him you could see the boiling rage in his eyes. You swallowed thickly and refused to answer. He tightened his grip slightly and you knew that it was going to leave bruises. That is, if you survived.

“I would advise you not to disobey my orders.”

“You may be a King,” you croaked out, “but you’re not my King.”

Thranduil sneered and dropped you harshly. You gasped at the sudden impact on the cold floor and he turned on his heel and marched back up towards his throne. Really it had been an honest mistake. You were a nomad and you had ventured into Mirkwood by mistake. As soon as you realised where you were you tried to leave but it was too late. You had swiftly taken prisoner and had been locked up ever since. You had lost track of the days you had been kept here and longed to be back on the road.

It wasn’t as though you had been kept in solitary confinement. You were regularly brought up for questioning by the Elven King. You had answered his questions as best as you could but he was beginning to test your limits. Today you finally lost it and, well, it hadn’t ended up well for you. You rubbed your neck, wincing when you accidentally pressed too hard against it.

Thranduil sat back down on his throne and looked down at you. He crossed one leg over the other and propped his chin up on his hand. You were a stubborn one and really he was beginning to think that you weren’t a spy. That you really were just a harmless traveller who stumbled in here by mistake. But he wanted to see you crumble. He wanted to see you on your knees, begging for mercy. This had been the first time he touched you and he curled his fingers, wanting the feeling of your soft flesh under his hands once again. He drummed his fingers of his other hand on the arm on his throne as he looked down at you.

Yes, you looked good like this.

On your knees and fear in your eyes.

“You are a traveller.” he said, his voice shattering the silence

“I,” you coughed, before continuing weakly, “I am.”

“Hmm.”

“I am glad that you are listening to me.”

You glanced up at Thranduil and the look on his face told you that you were on thin ice. For a human you were not unpleasant looking and your defiance was an interesting streak. He was too used to people doing immediately what he wanted. While that was nice, and expected, your stubbornness was a refreshing change of pace.

Now he wanted your submission.

“You would like,” he said eventually, “to be out of the cells.”

Your gaze sharpened but the fear remained. Thranduil wanted that to stay.

“That’s correct.” you said

He raised his head and looked down at you.

“Then maybe,” he said, “you can do something about that. For your King.”

Those last three words made your blood turn cold and you didn’t like the look on his face.

“Unless you’d rather go back to the cells,” his voice remained level, “but I can assure you that you'll have a far more comfortable time if you do as I say. And pleasant, if you behave.”

“And what do you want?” you asked weakly

“Come here,” he beckoned you towards him, spreading his legs, “and I’ll let you know what to do.”

You made to stand up but Thranduil held up a hand.

“On your knees,” he said, “where you belong.”

Crawling towards him was humiliating but maybe, just maybe, this was providing you with a way to escape. Little did you know that as you crawled towards him, Thranduil was already making plans. You might be a mere human but he was never going to let you go.

You were his.

[jamneuromain]

Hey honey! I'm loving your bingo challenge<3

So I want to send in a request for Steve Rogers for the prompt 'ugly duckling'

So basically Steve meeting readers family and friends, and the running joke is how reader bagged an Greek god looking man like him despite being not so pretty. He soon understands why reader was first hesitant and a bit surprised when he asked them out. But Steve takes a stand for them in front of everyone and call them out on their behaviour and all the fluff! Please feel free to change anything you like or ignore the request if it's not worth it! Thank you so much! I love your fics💙

Hi hon <3

I feel so much about the "ugly duckling" so I added a little bit of "horrible family actions" that I've seen. I hope you'll enjoy this!

Make an Impression

Steve Rogers x You

Warning: Ugly Duckling, shaming from all aspects, bad language word(?)

Summary: Steve was nervous about meeting your family - your larger family, that is.

A/N: My eighth entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty.

"What if they don't like me?" Steve whispered in horror as he looked at himself in the mirror.

"They will love you." You stood on the tip of your toes and kissed his cheek, "Seriously, my mom thought I'd be single for life. So she is already way beyond happy that I'd be taking someone home for this traditional festival."

Steve mumbled a "yeah", before turning to you, "I really want to make a good impression." He almost knotted his brows into a bun, "Any tips on how to be the best boyfriend?"

"You are the best boyfriend there is." You help flipping his collar in place. He was so nervous about meeting your family that he tried on five different ties for over a dozen times, leaving his collar a mess, "You'd be helping out... I think. And you definitely do not need a tie to suffocate yourself when you're helping out. They will love you." You emphasized the idea that your family would welcome him one more time, shrugging, "Just try not to answer any questions when my aunties and my grandma ask you about 'when are we having kids'."

"Kids?" Unfiltered panic filled his eyes.

"Um-hmm." You fiddled with the hem of his shirt, tucking it in place, "I know, we aren't even planning anything yet. Still, they love to do that. They'd be scheming when we're having our fifth kid with or without our help."

Steve swears he is sweating like a fountain.

"Smile. Tell them we're enjoying our solidarity. And you will be fine." You threw him a sympathetic look, "Tell them about your military stories. That would distract them enough."

You hoped your boyfriend would survive under your ruthless (or so you believe) aunties.

"C'mon. Mom said we should be there by 11 to help her cook lunch." You kissed his cheek again, "You'll do fine."

"Not quite sure about that." Steve muttered. If confidence could be measured from 1 to 10, he'd be negative a hundred by now.

You thought your aunties - your father's sisters - would be hogging Steve until he was going to have a panic attack, asking about your relationship or about his family three generations ago. But within an hour, you heard that he was able to make all of your aunties laugh with joy by telling some interesting stories in the barracks, while your mother kept you in the kitchen to help her around.

Help with cleaning. Not cooking.

After an hour and a half, your grandmother pulled an ancient photo book out of nowhere and started to show him your baby photos.

With pots of traditional dishes simmering over the stove, you were finally able to get a break from your mother's accusations of "not practicing homemaking" and escape to your boyfriend.

At which point, the photo album was only about one-quarter through, and your aunties had just started the chapter where you were 4 or 5.

"...now this." Your grandma chuckled and shook her head, "This was precious. She has always been the not-so-good-looking one among my grandkids. Hasn't changed about that. See her skin? And the hair? Her cousins tried almost everything to help her look better."

Yes. By "help" she meant that your cousins, who were not that older than you, shoved you around like a doll, pinning all their least-favorite hair bands and hair pins onto your head, and giving you ridiculous "make-overs".

The kind of "make-over" some 6-year-olds could achieve.

While your male cousins ignored you.

Some of them still did.

You didn't mind.

Your family isn't exactly the tightest bun in the world. You tried avoiding them until important family-gathering activities such as this one. Because they would criticize everything from your clothing to your work. And probably also tell your boyfriend that you are not that good.

"And what are you wearing?" One of your aunties eyed you disapprovingly, gasping as if she had just seen you. Even though you have been helping cleaning and cooking for at least sixty minutes, "Sweetie, your ass is going to rip your jeans. Why not sportspants? They are definitely more comfy. Could help cover your thick thighs too. Honestly, how you are able to date... him-" She gestured at Steve, "is baffling."

"That hair..." Another auntie tutted as loud as she could, "So messy, my dear. Have you tried conditioner? My boy brought back a bottle of L'OREAL conditioner from Paris and it has been working wonders. "

Third auntie chirped up helpfully, "Must have been that awful job, cutie pie. I told you that you should be working closer to home, not driving three hours to see your family. That incompetent husband of mine recently opened up a factory and we'd be happy to arrange a desk job for you. Smaller pay, but closer to home. What could a ton of money do anyway if you can't see your family every week-"

That's enough bullshit for you for a day. You'd rather drown yourself with mud than listen to them criticize from head to toe.

"I think that's my phone." You forced a smile, getting up as fast as you could, "I'm gonna go check."

"See, I told you a busy job can do you no good..." One of your aunties yelled behind your back, before gossiping in a low voice with others.

What you didn't see (or hear, for that matter) is that Steve apologized swiftly, leaving the couch and following you.

Eight months ago

Steve accompanied Bucky to his graduation ceremony that day. Being around the same age, they chose a path in the military at the start, though Bucky had a severe injury to his left arm and had to leave the sergeant program after only a few months. After some rehabilitation and trying a handful of jobs, Bucky decided to head back to university and study criminal law in order to become a police officer, or a district attorney if he's not fit for police work anymore.

Steve, on the other hand, was luckier. He stayed in the sergeant program and got assigned to the States right before Bucky's graduation. After three tours and a surgery to collect bomb shells from his leg, the Army decided he could be a drill sergeant on the New Jersey Base, responsible for training new recruits before shipping them overseas.

Anyhow, Steve pulled Bucky into a big hug when the ceremony was over. He whistled and nearly clapped his hand numb as Bucky beamed at him in a black graduate gown.

"I guess I'm the smarter one of us now." Bucky smiled coyly, punching Steve in the chest, "And the luckier one too." As he fished a cute girl in gown by her wrist and introduced her, "This is my girlfriend Wendy. Wendy Stone. Wendy, Steve."

She reached out shyly to shake his hand, "Hi Steve. I've heard a lot about you."

And as if Bucky was the magnet, attaching people like coins in a line, you slipped through the crowd patting Wendy on her shoulder, "Your phone. You almost forgot - Hi Bucky, I'll be out of your hair in a minute."

Bucky's palm flew to his forehead, gasping out in shock, "Damn. I haven't introduced you two yet. Steve, this is Y/N, Wendy's cousin. Y/N, this is my best pal Steve."

Five months ago

You had hung out with Steve a couple of times, but only in the presence of Bucky and Wendy. Wendy and you shared the same apartment, so it was nearly inevitable for Steve to bump into you when looking for Bucky, or Bucky asking both of you to join Game Night for you four to know each other well.

Steve grew fonder of you, nonetheless. He loves the laughter whenever you hear a silly joke; he loves the way you make a face to him whenever Bucky and Wendy getting all gooey and clingy, making both of you feel like the third and fourth wheel; he loves your optimistic and can-do attitude, whether it was Wendy having a bad day at work, or when the pipe burst in your apartment.

Before he opened his mouth that day, sharing a pot of coffee with Bucky during the quiet morning of a Sunday. Bucky cut him off, saying Steve's line, "You should ask her out."

"You think I should?" He gulped nervously, counting the larger bubbles on his coffee.

"Dude, why do you think I've asked you on these game nights stuff?" Bucky snorted into his mug, "You practically glued your eyes to her the day you met. It's hard not to notice."

"Thanks...?"

"Don't thank me yet, punk. I've asked Wendy about her. She's one tough-" Bucky paused before continuing, mulling over the semantics, "Is it degrading to say son-of-a-bitch? Because Wendy said the exact same words. Anyway, according to Wendy, she doesn't really date a lot. And her work is crazy as hell. Plus, they came from the same family, cousins from their mother's side. They are a hard-to-please bunch of people, and Wendy heard that her father's side was even worse."

Steve didn't really take the last line into consideration back then. Still, asking you out was one hell of a mission, worse than the tour he had in the middle of some desert. It took some persuasion and some more coaxing ("good-measured coaxing", Bucky insisted) to get you on the first three dates. But from that point forth, everything has run smoothly, until now.

"You alright?" Steve closed the door behind him. Your tiny room seems smaller with his broad shoulders larger than the door frame.

"Yeah." That's a lie. "Another few hours and we'll be left alone." You swept away the invisible dust on your jeans, murmuring.

That's why you don't like your relatives. The smell of grease and tobacco rose from the backyard where the men were drinking and smoking, more revolting than the way you remembered.

Steve pursed his lips tightly into a line, "Are they always like this?"

You huffed out an unamused laugh, "At least we were related. You should have seen how they treated my mom."

"That's why she's in the kitchen?"

An unimpressed glare threw in his direction, "She enjoyed that, believe it or not. Cooking and cleaning and homemaking." Raising your chin towards the kitchen, "Blamed me about 'not doing my part' just now."

"Why don't you-"

"Stand up against them?" You knew what he meant. You did. You tried. But they would always accuse your mother of not "teaching you properly".

"They are bullies, Steve." You shrugged, pretending that it didn't bother you at all, "They'd do anything to make sure we get all those nasty comments. And the moment any one of us stand up against them, they'd ask my parents to force me to apologize."

Steve crossed his arms, furrowing his brows again.

"Look, my mom is ... old-school. So are all of them. She nags a lot but she'd be sad if I'm not here to support her during this family reunion. But reunion means all of them, so..." You held his wrist, resting your head on his shoulder, "family comes first."

He took you into his arms, landing a kiss on your forehead.

You craned your neck to smile sweetly at him, as if nothing had happened, "Let's get back to the living room before they mock me for being a baby about it."

Surprisingly, for one full hour, they weren't able to make a comment about you - plenty of comments about Steve since your three cousins had arrived. More comments about your cousins. Gossips about their neighbors. Judgements thrown around on their men and your mother's cooking.

"... your daughter better have clarity on herself." Your grandmother pointed at your mother, drunk on her third cup of wine, her words slurring, "Steven....s Steve, here, is way out of her league. And she needs to maaaarry him before some s... ska... skank butts in."

Your mother eyed you, mouthing silently, asking you to eat rather than reply, before coming up with a polite smile, "Of course. But young people have their own opinions on marriage, and I suppose it's only fair that they figure it out themselves."

One of your aunts waved her fork too hard, sending a piece of chicken into the air, "Oops. Ma's right. And you need to have a kid soon, sweetie. Marry him, and have a kid. Your body is a ticking clock. Don't turn deaf towards it."

"I'm surprised you were able to get a boyfriend, let alone... this." Another aunt gestured at Steve, "You've never been the pretty one, cutie pie, and you sure ain't now."

You put your hand on Steve's thigh to calm him. You could feel his muscles tensing and his jaw clenching, not so subtly. You shook your head lightly.

Don't give them what they want. You hoped you were able to convey the message.

"Oh my oh my," the last aunt chuckled, "we are not going to witness some cheesy scheme of renting a boyfriend here, are we? I heard from my daughter Jean that it's quite popular these days. You know, it's not that embarrassing not to have a boyfriend, I mean, we all thought that way-"

Jean, being one of your cousins sitting by the table, chose to munch her food in silence rather than responding to your aunt.

"That's enough." Steve placed his napkin on the table, folded it back into a triangle before he spoke, "All of you." His rigid tone from the military days seeped into his voice, having the conversations on the table stop for the moment. Taking your hand beneath the table, he watched every person on the table with a serious expression, "Our relationship is none of your business, and so is her appearance. I see a beautiful, strong, independent woman, and I pity you for none of you were able to see her the way I do. Because you were so focused on yourselves, comparing everything about you to make you feel less pathetic. "

A brief pause.

"You didn't say anything about your daughter owning a clothing store, inherited from you, that barely gets by." He looked at the aunt who called you "fat".

"No one said anything about your son stuffing potato chips in his mouth and being unemployed, still taking expensive trips with your pension, because he's the son in the family." He points at the aunt who called you "cheap".

"And finally, you know damn well that husband of yours is having his third secretary-mistress. Since that's all the rest of you could hint about this afternoon." He directed at the aunt who thought you weren't "homemaker" enough.

"I hope you'll have the day you deserve." He spat out, standing from the table, asking for your hand.

For the first time today, your eyes sparkled with light. Gladly taking his hand, your rose from the table. Not minding if you have shoved your chair backwards too hard or the sudden movement is not "lady" enough.

"Mom, I'll come visit next week. Promise." A big smile raised the corner of your lips, waving your mother goodbye while the rest of the table watched in silence.

You still had trouble believing this when you got in your car. Steve immediately pulled you into a hug, nudging your neck with his cheek.

"Not so scared about 'impressing' my family now, huh?" You joked, tugging the end of his blonde hair lightly.

"They're going to hate me and you after I dumped every scandal on them." He mumbled apologetically, "Sorry, I hate bullies."

"No." You signed, "I should've be braver and just ... cut them off."

"You did the best you could." He kissed your shoulder gently, looking into your eyes, "You are everything I've dreamed of, and I meant everything I said at the dining table. You are incredible."

"Hold your proposal, Rogers." You teased him, seeing his ears turn into beet-red as you mentioned "proposal", poking his chest with your index finger, "You aren't on your knees yet and I'm not having five babies without five carats."

Steve's face flushed with a shade of pink, looking like a total turnip if it wasn't for his blonde hair. "Five babies???" He gulped, and then, "Does that mean we're having ten babies if I buy a ten-carat now?"

It was your turn to be stunned speechless. Only when he was grinning madly did you realize he was messing with you too. Laughing with tears, you fell into his embrace, "Steven Grant Rogers, you are a horrible person."

A few laughs bubbled from his chest as you leaned back in your seat and buckled your seat belt, "You'll get used to it." He started the engine and changed the subject, "I didn't have much food in your house. Mind if we stop by at the new Burger joint and order something?"

"I almost forgot how awful my mom's cooking is." You set your phone on navigation mode and put it on Bluetooth speaker, chuckling, "I'm starving. Let's go."

Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[lyrashifts]

Um so I have a question.. I'm a huge marauders fan since I was a kid and I was also an attempting shifter for a year but then I stopped due to work and stuff and now I want to get back at it soooo badly but the problem is I don't have as much time to give to shifting and you could say ive lost a bit of faith (not saying it isn't real just saying that I couldn't do it maybe) I was looking to ask if you have any tips? I'm sorry if this is a bother for you and thank you for your time<33!!

hello darling! firstly i just want to say you are not a bother at all. i honestly love getting asks, and my inbox wouldn't be open if i didn't!

obviously you don't even need motivation or the belief to shift, but having motivation and faith definitely can help make the process easier. but here are a few things i've done / plan to do when i lose motivation

reya's 4 day reprogramming method has a cult following in this community. in terms of time you're probably going to need to say a lot of affirmations throughout the day, but you don't actually make any attempt to shift until the fourth day

i've seen robotic affirmations circulating on here and i tried them myself (i personally just repeated "i am in my __ dr") and i find they work really well!

this isn't even required for motivation or shifting, but i find that working on your self-concept helps a LOT. i used to have a lot of negative self talk, which was probably a contributor to believing specifically i couldn't shift or wasn't ready, but i'd say it's a lot more controlled now. for me it also took away a lot of my negative views from this reality, so instead of viewing shifting as escaping this one i thought of it as going to another one

ofc, taking breaks and looking at media related to your dr can help!!

also, taking a break from social media (or just platforms like shifttok and shiftblr) is good. overconsumption (even of good info) isn't beneficial (too much of anything is bad) and working to just trust yourself and your shifting ability can be super helpful!!

practicing meditation is both good for your health and i've heard a lot of success stories of people who've practiced it for while (since so many methods are essentially just meditation with a very specific goal)! a good rule of thumb is to practice as many minutes as your age

i hope this helps!! i believe in you! (so so sorry for the late reply this was rotting in my drafts and i remembered just today)

[son1c]

Fibulah is the best ship everrrrr 💖 A match made in heaven fr (yknow, cuz they’re both dead?)

Although, pressing question, how’d they meet?

they met because one of the chaos emeralds just so happened to be taking up residence in lah's haunted mansion! fibula was able to track its scent to the premises, and quickly deduced it was hiding somewhere inside. of course, once he actually WENT inside, lah's two ghostly admirers tried everything in their power to scare him... but they had no idea who they were up against LOL and he scared the both of them silly instead.

as it turned out, lah had found the chaos emerald before fibula ever got there, and was keeping it in her room. so, after fibula crept his way through the rest of the mansion and saw the prize being guarded by another ghost, he figured he'd have to scare this one too in order to claim it.

lah of course was surprised to see him there... she figured the other two ghosts would've scared him within an inch of his life, as is what happens to most travellers who stumble across her mansion. all except for one... who she remembers quite fondly... she even has a picture with him...

intrigued, lah attempted to get closer and see what set him apart from the rest of the trembling lot. but before she can get TOO close, his head suddenly fell off and rolled across the floor to the tip of her tail! WHAT! she was startled by the sight, but also DELIGHTED. she was not expecting the stranger to die just like that--it was an extremely rare treat for her to see a real death.

THEN. just when she thought things couldn't get any better, the head winked and said "gotcha!" and she realized he wasn't dead but UNDEAD. a monster, just like her... and this girl lovesss all manner of spooky beasts. plus, i think it'd be really funny if her werewolf fixation switched to a zombie fixation, or if she just rotated interests in halloween monsters to keep things fresh in general. gotta spare some love for the vampires every now and again, right?

ofc while she was distracted with his decapitated head, the rest of fibula's body had snuck behind her to snatch the emerald. i'd imagine she would willingly trade it if he was able to bring her some good pictures of people being scared... and the ghosts use OLD cameras, so he might even be familiar with them... you know, the polaroid, print-on-the-spot type...

and OFC fibula's pictures are the best she's ever seen. no one is better at getting a scare out of poor unsuspecting people than him!

[motherofmisfits]

Hello Mother,

your blog and posts are beautiful. Thank you for making them.

I would like to ask about my heartype, ravens/crows. I crave wings. I crave for the feeling of the weight on my back, the freedom of flying and gliding over the world. I need to preen, I need to run my beak across my chest, getting rid of the loose feathers and cleaning the dirty ones. But I cannot. I am stuck in this body. I can’t even feel my wings, as I do not shift, and meditation doesn’t do anything for me. I have even tried hypnosis, which has little to no effect on me. I just ask for your advice. What can I do to feel like myself again?

Thank you.

Hello, my dear crow.

I know. It is difficult being trapped in a human body. I understand your struggles.

I cannot promise the advice I give will help. I myself am not strongly connected to any winged creatures, though I have a few on my kin questioning list. Even then, I am not strongly connected with them. But here are some ideas I could come up with.

I'd recommend spending some time outside, maybe collect sticks and make a little nest for yourself in your yard. Or you could make a blanket nest indoors. For flight, maybe try looking up some flying videos. You could even have a fan blowing in your face as you do so. Listen to crow/raven calls. In doing some research, I've learned they have a good number of different ones and can even mimic sounds, including humans, apparently. Maybe try mimicking some of their sounds if you can.

They also seem to love to play around, so just have some fun. They've been known to play with snow, sticks, anything really. So go outside and mess around. Besides, that has the added fun of letting you preen. While you may not have feathers, you can pick sticks and leaves from your hair and clothes to try and simulate the feeling of preening.

As for wings, you could try to make yourself some since I know buying them might get expensive. There are probably many cosplayers who have tutorials on how to make wings. If you are unable to do that, try using a weighted blanket to simulate the feeling. Even just a regular blanket could work as well. Maybe a backpack could help imitate the weight.

While I may not have this problem with wings, I do have an extra pair of arms. For me, I barely get shifts with them, and they always are vague. When I get shifts, and even often when I don't, I like to imagine them on me. This may not work for most because it requires a lot of imagination and most crave a physical feeling, but for me, it brings a lot of comfort. I enjoy thinking about what my extra set of arms would be doing, how they would be posing, and how I would use them. Maybe my method might work for you, if you wish to try.

The main advice I could give is to do research on crows/ravens. Maybe you'll see something you can do as well.

Also, maybe reach out to others in the community. I don't know much about bird kin/heartypes. Maybe you can find another raven or crow otherhearted or therian, or winged otherkin in general, to give you advice and tips that have helped them.

Just remember, if you feel like you are a raven/crow. Then you are a raven/crow. In whatever way you feel like.

I wish I could help you more.

Have a blessed flight, little raven.

[queer-reader-07]

Hello! I saw your tags saying I could leave you an ask about makeup and I have a couple questions if you don't mind! The main things I want to look into are eyeliner and eye shadow, and maybe lipstick, but I'm more interested in eye makeup right now. I've always wanted to do eye makeup but it seems complicated so I haven't tried it out much.

For eyeliner, what type is best for someone who has pretty much never used it before? I looked it up and found out there's a lot more types than I thought, but I'm mainly talking about pencil and liquid eyeliner. Is there a general price range I should shoot for that's going to get me decent eyeliner but not cost a lot? Good brands to look out for?

For eyeshadow, it's pretty much the same questions as above. I'd love to do colorful types, it just seems very complicated to me. What's the process for applying it, do you need other things as well?

This got a bit longer than I expected so I'll stop there! Thanks for letting me know I could send an ask :)

hi!! questions are more than ok, i love talking about makeup ☺️

eyeliner:

i find pens the easiest to use and learn with! i swear by the NYX eyeliner pens, which are pretty affordable (they're on the drugstore side of ulta and available at target but that's only helpful if you live in the states lol). there's two that i like:

the "That's the Point" eyeliner pen is felt tip and very thin, i liked that when i was still learning because it made such thin lines that i wasn't as stressed about messing up

the "Epic Ink" eyeliner pen is what i use now, it's a brush tip not felt tip which has a slightly steeper learning curve imo but so worth it! i love this one and it's 100% my go to now.

eyeshadow:

eyeshadow seems scarier than it actually is i promise you!! here are my tips for applying it:

it will have a stage where it looks awful and you think it's irredeemable and you'll want to wipe it off. DON'T. it always go through that stage, keep blending and you will make it out the other side

dark -> medium -> light is the holy grail order for blending eyeshadow. start with a small, dense brush and the darkest shade. then use a slightly larger fluffier brush to do the medium shade. and finally a bigger fluffier brush with the lightest shade.

you don't need a super heavy hand when it comes to eyeshadow. lightly blending usually goes better than putting a lot of pressure on the brush

blending out the edges of your eyeshadow with a pressed powder/powder foundation makes it look extra blended and nice!

i think eyeshadow is easier to apply if you have an eye base. this can be a dedicated "eye primer" but i just use concealer. it helps with color payoff

the only tools you really need are a couple brushes. i'd get a small dense brush for packing color on. a larger fluffier brush for blending. and a thinner, flatter brush for putting eyeshadow under your eye

my favorite eyeshadow brand is Juvia's Place. their products are super pigmented, not too expensive, and very blendable. the glitters in their pallets are also exquisite!! morphe's eyeshadows are ok, and i have a lot of friends who like Colorpop but i've never used them myself

for brush brands i have a collection of Morphe, Eco Tools, and Ulta Beauty. i like all of them but morphe and ulta are my favs.

i hope this was helpful! drop another ask or reblog if you have any more questions :)

[baodurs]

🤥🎂🌙🌋🙉❇️🌠 - for either... or both :o

oc emoji asks

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

my first instinct for phaedra was to say yes she's a good liar, but i'm not so sure... she's a good speaker, very poised, and good at keeping secrets & dealing with people, but i think outright lying could make her uncomfortable enough to be kind of obvious! i guess it depends on the situation and if she feels guilty. she's a competent utilitarian liar, but she's not good at prolonged deception or lying to people she knows well. if she ever tried it, she'd hesitate and just seem distressed lol

morven doesn't see much point in lying. she's usually blunt and direct (red hawke); when she does want to hide something, she's more likely to just be like "none of your business" or "i'm not telling you." beyond thinking it's usually a waste of time, she doesn't have any qualms with it, and she's a good liar when necessary. usually in the form of denying something when directly questioned—she's good at sounding dismissive or making someone feel foolish enough for asking/stonewalling them long enough that they just drop it

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?

fictional calendars scare me i haven't thought much about it... but i think this thedas astrology doc is fun! using that, i'd say phaedra was born under eluvia* and morven was born under fervenial*

*assuming i just went for the most obviously fitting ones. but who knows!

phaedra looks forward to her birthday! as much as she is dutiful and self-effacing, she's always been more proud and less satisfied with her role than she wants to be, so she enjoys having a day where the weight of that lightens a bit and she can indulge in those "lesser" emotions. the key is that it's a limited (one day) and sanctioned (literally her birthday!!) form of indulgence, so she lets herself enjoy it

morven prefers to treat it like any other day. being celebrated is uncomfortable for her (if it's sincere, then it's awkward; if it's insincere, then it's annoying), but she rarely does anything big anyway. she likes her birthday as far as she can use it as an excuse to gather her family and friends together!

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

phaedra: her deepest desires are an inscrutable mess i fear. but the clearest and most present one is just to do right by the wardens. and she'll go very far for it! she wants them to have power and respect and she wants to be a good commander. and a good warden, really, but she struggles more with what that means.

morven: just some peace and fucking quiet to be honest!!! she has never dreamed very big. but clearly she's only willing to go so far for it, considering her entire life. she won't sacrifice much for a cause or for the greater good (she's vehemently against the circle and the chantry but too afraid of the consequences for herself and those close to her to do much about it), but she'll do anything for a person she loves

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

phaedra isn't a very angry character IMO. she feels a lot of frustration or resentment, but true anger is rare for her and fades pretty quickly. so losing her temper is a surprise to her and to others when it happens; she'll just seem the usual level of cold or serious until she lashes out very suddenly and then almost immediately regrets it and tries to save face

comparatively, morven is a generally angrier person with a much longer temper. it's a more familiar and useful emotion to her. i think seeing her lose her temper is also surprising but in a different way—less "where did that come from" and more "i guess i should have seen this coming but i didn't realize where the tipping point was"

🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?

phaedra: that she's selfish. as a cousland, she struggled with her own ambition vs what was actually expected of her, and as a warden, she struggles with what is necessary vs what feels unacceptable (either to her the cousland that still lives in her brain!). it's her duty to her family vs her duty to the wardens vs her duty to ferelden vs her idealized sense of honor, and for someone to tell her that her own ambition or desires still won out over all of that would be worse than anything else they could say.

morven: that she's not doing enough or hasn't done enough... i think a lot about this act 1 conversation with carver:

hawke: you will not use [bethany] against me like that! she deserves better. carver: then you should have given better. hawke: i gave everything! question me, mother, yourself, but not that.

and that's really just it IMO! she's willing to accept when she's failed, but not that she still didn't give everything she could have. she wants to be malcolm, and on some level her failures become proof to her that she's not and that he was different or better, which is not Great but is something that confirms her worldview and the way she sees her father. like, if there's a flaw, then let it be with Her (and thus not with malcolm) and not with her efforts. this maybe makes her sound more fatalist than she actually is but what can you do

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

phaedra: is it passé to say the reflection amulet from the temple of sacred ashes... i think she tries to honor the idea that when you're a warden, your old life doesn't matter anymore, so she doesn't hold onto much from her origin. but this is something that reminds her of home that she got after leaving it behind, and she has a reverence for spirits, so she appreciates whatever gave it to her.

morven: having too many Things makes morven nervous, so she values things that are useful and don't feel like they're taking up space. a decent candidate for a prized possession would be something like malcolm's grimoire. (i apologize for how many of her answers are about malcolm.) but idk let's just say that for now bc i can't think of something better on the spot!

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

i think if someone made this offer to phaedra, she might just reject it lol... she's an envious character who wants a lot of things she can't have, but she also thinks she wasn't meant for those things/doesn't have them for a reason. it would feel wrong for her to wish them into existence (just wishing for a cure to the blight, for example, would feel to her like an insult to the wardens). she might pass the wish onto a loved one if possible <3 if she absolutely had to do it, she'd wish for something incredibly minor and practical like "i wish for mild weather on my next trip to the city" lmao

morven... hm. i think a lot of things would occur to her, and it would depend on when the offer was presented. she is not used to thinking big picture or hoping for things out of reach, so most of her wishes would be about safety/security for herself or friends. post-da2 morven is the only one who would entertain something big. first thought would be to cure carver of the blight, but i don't think she'd actually wish for it. i think she'd wish for one last conversation with malcolm, especially after legacy, bc that lack of closure is the one thing that will eat her alive until she's dead!!!!

[florence-and-dayton-abdl]

Just wanted to say I've just found your blog and fell in love! You guys are absolute goals for so many people here! The quality of your photos are amazing and you seem so genuine! ❤️

I read that he introduced you to ABDL and you found it interesting (which is super awesome btw) Were there any roadblocks or huddles that you faced together? And do you have any advice for new couples that are getting into this lifestyle? Or any tips on bringing this lifestyle up to your vanilla partner? (Sorry for the multiple questions!)

Hey there 👋 Thanks for your message and kind words! Florence here: yes, Dayton introduced me to ABDL early on in our relationship, and even though I'd not experienced or even heard of ABDL before, I was keen to try it!

As we mentioned in a previous post, we didn't try everything at once - it's been a gradual process, with lots of communication, willingness, learning, and time. What we've tried and enjoyed has evolved over the years we've been together, but there have also been periods where we've not engaged with ABDL regularly because of life circumstances.🙂

I don't think there is a one-size-fits-all piece of advice for couples exploring ABDL together, but from personal experience, I'd say it's important to try things gradually. Just be mindful of what you're each comfortable with and not to rush one another.

On bringing up the topic to your partner for the first time: for us, it was through a conversation on what kinks we each have. This meant we were both sharing something, which perhaps made it easier. But in terms of advice, maybe just try not to overwhelm them with too much at once. Start with the general idea "I like the idea of wearing diapers," for example, and go from there. Give them time and let them ask questions at their own pace. 🙂

[xxsycamore]

𝗖𝗮𝘁𝗯𝗼𝘆!𝐍𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 😼🐾

Art by me!

► What if Napoleon was a catboy? Nyapoleon, if you will? Well here are some headcanons...! I originally wrote these a loong time ago but lost motivation, promised myself to post them for cat's day (02/22). Hope you enjoy! If when you're done reading those some other headcanon comes to mind...I'd be more than happy to see... 👉👈

Napoleon Bonaparte x MC • rating: G • wordcount: 1,015 • masterlist

What if Napoleon rose from the dead, not ONLY as a demi-vampire…but also as a demi-cat catboy, as well?

Aside from the pointy fangs in his mouth, Napoleon finds additional inhuman traits on his new body…

A svelte, tar-black tail, fur short and velvety to the touch, curls in the form of a question mark as he stares at the mirror - similarly, a pair of cat ears point sharply upwards in attention.

What were you expecting, of course Catboy Napo has little tuffs of white hair at the tips of his ears! It matches his hairstyle!

Touching them in curiosity with half-folded fist, Napoleon inspects them as they give a small twitch. This is new…

He thinks it's just that. Just like how his bloodthirst hasn't kicked in, hence him being a demi-vampire, maybe his cat traits are, too, just for decoration. Wrong!

There is a rumor among the mansion residents that his eyes appear to "glow" in the dark, reflecting light just as any cat's can do…

Why do you think he loves the garret so much? The little room situated in the attic is perfect for him: the alcove is a high spot with limited room, big enough just for him to curl up and have a nap there.

The reason why he sleeps in so late is because he loves the quiet hours of the night when even the merriest of the residents go to sleep.

He feels more energetic during the night, which works perfectly with him as he frequently takes gigs as a bodyguard at balls around Paris.

Comte's mansion is full of expensive decorations and antics with rich history just like himself, if not older than him. It's a shame when he accidentally knocked off an ornate vase once, breaking it into dozens of pieces. Who placed it so close to the edge of the table, anyway? And worse: why did it feel good to knock it off?

Having acquired a tail, Napoleon is suddenly provided with extra balance that comes in handy in his sparring sessions. That makes him a tough opponent for Jean, but it's also making his fellow soldier less warry of hurting him.

Cats love horses, Napo loves horses.

The mansion's oh-so-thoughtful butler, Sebastian, has a whole section of his diary dedicated to Napoleon's catboy-ness, frequently sharing the little things he learns about the former emperor with the man himself, ready to help him in his journey of exploring his new body. One of the pages begins with, "Today Monsieur Napoleon hissed at me as I tried to wake him up."

He actually comes to you if you minou-minou-minou at him! (french for ps-ps-ps)

His favorite food is crepes, right? Why? Because it often has whipped cream in it? His diet suddenly involves a lot of dairy products among other foods that would suit a feline's palate.

The course of his days changes as a girl enters through the door, all the way from the 21st century. Being made her personal bodyguard led to an adventure involving lots of both bickering and laugher… and love.

MC's scream fills the entire mansion one morning as she finds a catboy curled up at the feet of her bed. A freshly slapped-across-the-face, tail-between-his-legs Napoleon pouts, ears flopping on his sidies. "Your bed shouldn't be so comfortable if you don't want me sleeping in it, Nunuche."

With MC's arrival , Napoleon's world is turned upside down yet again. Having come to terms with his new body only somewhat, falling inlove with a human girl reminded him of how unhuman he was now. Fortunately, love turned out stronger than even his stubbornness, and despite, ermmm, certain events that took place soon after, it all turned out good for them in the end.

That same sequence of events saw him becoming a full-fledged lesser vampire… but what about his other nature?

His instincts unfurled tenfold. Sharper senses now see him recognizing MC's steps with crazy accuracy, enough to tell when she returns home from her shopping trips… in addition, he's ready to welcome her at the door with remarkable speed as well, as result of his body being flexible and sturdy.

It's a show of affection towards the person you love if you suddenly want to nuzzle against them! It totally has nothing to do with being a catboy, and that's totally not Napoleon being in denial.

And MC doesn't find it odd or anything, oh no. She's lucky to have such a cute chaton all to herself, she wonders what would happen if she gives him some pets…?

Purring. Purring happens.

The first time it's devastating for Napoleon. He's flushed silly at the bizarre low sound escaping his throat uncontrollably. It's embarrassing. He doesn't know how to stop it, and worse of all, he wants more. He feels fully at ease when she pets him, when he's in her company, when he receives her love… if he could play cool and save his skipping heartbeat to himself up until now, from hereon there is evidence of his being utterly down bad for MC.

He obediently lays his head on her lap for more pets. Just experimentally, until he has this purring business figured out. She finds it adorable: he loves making her happy; it feels good; he starts to give in… soon he's cheeky about it.

"I only purr like that for you, Nunuche… you make me feel so comfortable. Don't stop. Let me lay on your lap all afternoon."

Sunbaths? Sunbaths. He knows a spot. *takes MC to that one field*

Just a lot of napping on her, everywhere, even during her chores…

Cue MC having a lot of those "help I can't stand up ever again, nope" moments

To sum it up: Napoleon as a catboy is loving, sleepy, curious, slick and flexible, cheeky and wanting to be pet constantly, purring loudly… What is there not to love?

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @cilokgoang Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[badgod01]

Birthday - Chapter 2

Despite Infected being a very easily-distractible individual, he continues doing that for a few days—thinking, racking his brain for any potential possibilities of topping Pest. He wants it to be special and exciting since, as far as he knows, Pest doesn't like bottoming. "It just doesn't look appealing" is something that Infected keeps going back on. It's interesting; Pest has pulled him and Poob apart countless times but doesn't think of any of that as appealing enough to be done to him. On one of his thinking days, he wanders to PartyNoob's apartment by himself when they get off of work to ask them something.

"Hey! I didn't expect you, so I'm still in my work uniform," Poob says, but any hint of embarrassment isn't there. "Nice to see you, Infected." They smile at him, ushering him inside wtih a wave of their hand. They're used to people popping in and hanging out, but usually not one of their boyfriends on a weekday.

As soon as Infected steps into the apartment, he realizes how anxious he actually is. It's kind of a weird question—a very weird question—that he doesn't really know how to go into it smoothly. So he doesn't. "Hey, so for Pest's birthhday I was thinking I'd top him—do you want to join and do you have any ideas of what he'd like?"

As soon as the words fell out of his mouth, Poob's eyes lit up. "Oh, do I!" They grab his hand and led him into their bedroom. They look underneath their bed and pull out a shoe box; upon opening it, Infected's eyes widen when he sees a box full of kinky shit, but that apparently isn't just it. "I've been thinking about this for a long time." Underneath the box was a leather-bound diary, and when Infected is handed the item, Poob grabs a fresh set of pajamas. "I'll shower, while you read that like a good boy." They give him a kiss on the cheek before heading into the bathroom.

Infected's face flushes up and he looks down at the book, but glances curiously at the box. He kind of wants to go through the box first, and nudges open the lid. Just at first glance, he sees a small pouch, anal beads, a gag, and bondage rope. It's also heavy but Infected doesn't want to rifle through all that and potentially break something. Maybe Poob will show him another time, but for now, Infected opens the book. It's an embarrassing thing to read; it's all the things they and Pest did together, with dates of when it happened, as well as their thoughts.

Pest LOVES fucking me in doggy style. I like the way he grabs onto my thighs and treats me like a toy. He's really SO hot. I want to do it more often. I love pushing his buttons and making him mad so he fucks me harder ♡

11/22

For my birthday, Pest gave me a fuck ton of eggs and I LOVE it. We fucked in missionary and he kept making me come over and over again until I only had dry orgasms. I struggled to push the eggs out, which was the best part tbh. That's also his favorite part, even if he wouldn't admit it. He LOVES watching me push out his eggs.

11/30

We've been mostly having vanilla sex (well vanilla to Pest's and my standards I guess) so we tried something a bit more special today. Sensory deprivation. He tied me up and blindfolded me and rubbed me all over, but not enough to even get me close to cumming. It made me feel crazy and he took a video of my dick throbbing so he could show me later, which was arguably the most embarrassing prt of it. He also used the ovipositor on me which was SO hot. I almost thought it was his dick until I felt the tips of his fingers on my ass.

He only let me cum when I began drooling all over the pillow and crying, so he stuck his dick in and filled me with his eggs. He took off the rope and stuff when I laid them, but I kinda wish at one point I'll get to do that with him. His only concern was that there was a possibility I'd get scared and freak out if I was blindfolded and tied up during egg laying, which is valid and honestly I probably would lol.

12/07

We tried prone bone, had to put his muscles to use, and it was amazing. No notes. I kinda wished there were no eggs involved in that one, but man I can't deny how hot it is to have them be dumped directly into me like that…

At the fifth page he read, he's starting to think that PartyNoob perhaps gave him the wrong item or maybe was mistaken. Even then, he couldn't stop reading. The thrill of being given permission to read something so private and so intense made him feel excited. Each time he raises his hand to turn the page, it gets heavier and more intense as he lingers onto every word written. He wonders distantly if it felt the same way when Poob wrote these pages, pants tight and face red.

As soon as he opens the next page, he finally sees it.

01/05

Talked with Pest about him potentially bottoming sometime… Seems he's kinda into it. He wasn't really helpful when talking about stuff he'd be into but he got all blushy, which is super cute. I had to REALLY press for details and by the time we were done I gave him a blowjob for a job well done. ♡

'Yeah, that sounds like him,' he thinks distantly. Infected continues reading.

I floated by some ideas with him and this is what he said:

-Tentative YES to bondage; seems kinda nervous about me doing "weird stuff" to him, whatever that means

Infected snorts. Of course Poob would ask that first.

-YES to anal

-YES to oviposition (me giving him eggs to lay instead). A really surprising one but I can't judge lol. He says it just feels biologically good to lay eggs which is REALLY hot…

'Holy fuck?' Infected's eye twitched.

-MAYBE to creampie. Doesn't like the idea of having to clean up, which is SO him that I can't be mad about it lol

-YES to facial/coming on any other part of the body. He says he doesn't want to get it in his hair because he thinks it's yucky? (not his wording)

Infected kinda wishes Pest did say it exactly like that. That would have been hilarious to imagine with his dark, accented voice.

-NO to facefucking, he's scared of biting my dick off (reasonable) with either his teeth OR his mandibles

-I asked him if he liked rough or soft sex + he didn't give me a straight-forward answer on that one. I'll have to ask again some other time. For what it's worth, he DOES like it whenever I do my mommy dommy stuff with him, even if he prefers to dom

Infected did see some mentions of that before in the journal. He's also seen it happen a few times when Poob takes control of the bedroom, and it's glorious to see how quiet and shifty Pest gets when they do. This is the moment when he realizes what the hell he's reading and how strange it is in hindsight. Infected certainly doesn't own his own journal like this… but maybe it'd be fun. It'd give him something to do when he's sitting in his apartment all day.

-YES to degradation (obviously)

-NO to slapping or harming him, but he does like biting and ******LIGHT****** spanking

Infected laughs at the emphasis and turns the page.

-MAYBE to threesomes. He (and I) don't wanna have sex with /just/ anybody. He has to be the right guy.

Anyway, I had to head to work after that, but I sent him a dick pic when I was on the elevator lol

Infected promptly closes the notebook and sighs. Seems like the end of that. After that honestly overwhelming read, he wants to take a cold shower. Speaking of, PartyNoob appears in the doorway wearing their pajamas, looking refreshed.

"Did that help at all?" they ask, sitting next to Infected.

"Uh, yeah! More than," Infected says. "I did have to look through some of the other stuff to find it though…"

"Oh, I know. I don't mind you reading that," Poob replie There isn't even a hint of shame to their response.s.

Infected doesn't know what else to say other than the less than eloquentt "Oh, okay," that leaves his mouth. He rubs his thighs together, shifting for even a bit of relief.

Poob places their hand directly on his bulge, making him moan and buck into their hand. When he looks at them, they're grinning. "Do you need help with that, baby?"

Infected lets out a pent-up sigh. "Please." It comes out whinier than it should.

PartyNoob gives him a gentle kiss, placing their hands on his thighs. They push themselves up onto Infected's lap, opening his fly and pushing his pants just down enough for his cock to spring out. His breath hitches when they wrap their hand around his dick, and he gasps when they spit on their hand and begin pumping it.

"What was your favorite part?" Poob prods.

"I liked reading about you fucking," Infected replies.

They laugh a bit. "You have to be more specific than that."

"I liked—" He swears under his breath, pushing his forehead against Poob's. "I liked reading about all the positions he fucked you in."

"Who fucked me?" They squeeze his dick gently, making Infected groan.

"Pest." Infected struggles to get his name out of his mouth. "I liked reading about Pest fucking you in all those positions." He grabs Poob by the wrist, stopping their movements right then and there. "I need to fuck you," he whispers, desperate.

Poob licked their lips. "Well, I can't let you fuck me because I just showered."

Infected sighs, nodding his head. Reasonable, but that doesn't mean he's not slightly upset about it. He loves fucking Poob, and Poob must know it, because they grin at him and give him a kiss on top of his head.

"I'll give you a blowjob, though. And I'll let you fuck my face if you wanna." Poob sticks out their tongue from the side of their mouth and taps their cheek with the tip of their finger, clearly teasing Infected.

"Fuck."

Poob laughs a bit. "I'll take that as a yes. Go sit in the middle of the bed, handsome. And take off your shoes."

Infected follows their orders obediently; he takes off his shoes and sets it beside the bed, before he scoots into the middle. He has half the mind to take off his jacket and put it aside as well. After that, PartyNoob crawls up to them, looking so pretty yet so seductive, with a small smile on their face.

They place their hands on Infected's knees, spreading them apart. "I love your dick. It's just the tastiest," they say softly, hands reaching for Infected's belt as he squirms at the words. "It's got a nice curve. It's thick yet not big enough to hurt or go too deep." Infected's belt falls to the floor and Poob carefully opens his fly and unbuttons his pants. "You might have the most perfect dick I know."

"Hah—" Poob hasn't even touched Infected yet, and he's throbbing in his pants just from the words. Poob's vulgar, but never spoke to him like this. Their worship is intense, and all he could do is bury his face in their collarbone, feeling spineless. Poob has a special ability to make him feel submissive, and they know the power they hold so carelessly over him. They're dangerous.

"I just really, really love your dick," they whisper, pushing down Infected's pants and underwear enough for his dick to pop out. That's when Poob pounces, pushing Infected onto his back and taking a mouthful of his dick instantly.

Infected's reaction was immediate, moaning and whining for them. His dick was so sensitive and their mouth was so hot that it was impossible to not react. His dick was coated in saliva from Poob's tongue when they pulled away, sighing happily and licking their lips as if it was just a sweet treat.

"I mean, look at this." They wrap their hand around Infected's shaft, delicate fingers pushing against a prominent vein on the underside of his cock. "You got hard reading my sex diary. You probably read dirty novels too, don't you? Or are you an eromanga guy?" They begin pumping their hand up and down his  dick, making Infected writhe on the bed. "Answer my question, handsome."

"I—ungh," he whines out, making Poob giggle. Infected resists the overwhelming urge to hide his face in his hands, wanting to answer Poob just as directed, but their hand is so adept. "I'm not—it's just, ah, reading what you did with Pest…"

Poob squeezes his dick hard, making Infected let out a particularly needy whine and thrust his hips forward. "Good boy!" They grin and lick their lips before wrapping them around his dick yet again. They open their eyes just a smidge to look up at him, hollowing out their cheeks while they suck his dick. Infected reaches forward to grab Poob's hair and starts pulling their head down to meet his thrusts. Despite their eyes watering around the waterline, they don't seem bothered by it. They close their eyes and take it, breathing deeply through their nose.

"I'm gonna come," Infected says through gritted teeth. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"

At that moment, he unloads in Poob's mouth, letting out a loud moan. At that moment, every part of his body tenses up and time feels like it's stopped for him. When he's finally finished, he relaxes, letting go of Poob's hair and his legs hit the bed. It takes a moment for either of them to say anything to each other—Poob is busy swallowing his load, and Infected is busy gathering his breath. Both of their faces are red.

"I love you too," Poob says, "but I'm hard now too…" A hint of a whine comes from them as they sit up on their knees, a tent showing in their pajama bottoms.

Infected grins wickedly. "I'll let you fuck my face too."

Poob smiles back, crawling back onto Infected's lap. "If you can handle it, handsome." They unbutton the front of their pajamas, revealing nothing underneath, just their hard dick poking through the front.

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Just a little," Poob replies. They moved forward more until their thighs were on the opposite of Infected's face. "I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to control yourself."

"Well, when I read about a pretty boy and their hot boyfriend fucking, I can't really help it." Infected kisses the tip of Poob's dick, making them curse softly under their breath.

"Open, baby," Poob instructs.

Infected opens his mouth and Poob inserts their dick slowly into him, sighing as they do.

"Just stay still and be a good hole, mkay?" they ask with the sweet voice they always have.

Infected moans in response, closing his eyes. He tries to relax as Poob begins to slowly roll their hips back and forth. It's much more different than the other times they've had sex; it genuinely feels more like making love. At the same time, Infected squirms a little bit—he's being used. He likes pleasing his partners, he knows that much, and it feels the most obvious that he's aroused by this. It doesn't help that Poob lets out pretty moans—all of them is pretty—but these moans are soft yet punchy, almost sweet like the rest of them is.

"My good boy," Poob whispers softly, threading their fingers into his hair. They scratch his scalp gently as they slowly insert their dick in all the way into Infected's throat. They aren't the biggest, they're almost as big as Infected is, but his throat still spasms around the intrusion and his eyes shoot open. Poob pulls out, leaving Infected red in the face and coughing a bit. "You okay, handsome?"

Infected licks his lips. "Yeah," he assures them, though water is in his eyes. He still looks up at Poob with a determined look on his face. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so," Poob replies back. They put their thumb in Infected's mouth, prying it open yet again, before slowly inserting their dick in his mouth again. He hollows out his cheeks, just like how they would do it, and they begin to thrust their hips gently back and forth.

They go deeper this time. They shove their whole length into Infected's mouth, back and forth, but doesn't hold it long enough for him to choke. They keep it there just long enough for him to react, to hold onto their thighs, but not enough for his body to go full alert. He's kept on the delicious edge where he can't do anything at all but sit there and allow Poob to fuck his face. All the while, he's hooked on the noises that's in the room—gentle moans, soft praises to Infected's body, and the soft gagging noises he makes.

Infected lets out a whine when Poob takes their dick out, making them giggle softly and rub their dick across his lips.

"Can I come in your mouth, handsome?" Poob asks, hand wrapped around their shaft. "Look at how much I wanna come." Poob's eyes are starry and intense when he looks up at them, and Infected goes cross-eyed trying to look at their throbbing hard dick.

"In me," Infected replies meekly.

"Where can I come?" Poob's hand speeds up and they moan.

Infected's breathless. "In my mouth—come in my mouth," he begs. He lolls out his tongue over his bottom lip, opening his mouth.

Poob takes the initiative and inserts their dick into his mouth yet again, but this time they're fully using him. They wildly thrust their hips back and forth with zero rhythm, without consistent depth. Sometimes their dick is fully inside his mouth and other times their tip only grazes his tongue. It's a struggle, but it isn't as bad as it was before. Just breathe, he thinks to himself. He closes his eyes and pays attention to the noises; he can hear the exact moment Poob is about to come by the way their thrusts slow down and the loud moans they let out. Eventually, they thrust all the way in and hold, coming down his throat.

Infected tenses up, trying his best to swallow it all down. Poob whines, rubbing their dick against his tongue a few more times before taking it out. As Poob's dick softens, Infected opens his eyes and sighs. "Even your cum is sweet."

Poob laughs, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. They reach over to the side table and grab tissues, patting them both down. "You're cute."

"Are you saying my cum is cute?" Infected asks, swallowing it down. He winces a little when Poob pats gently around his crotch. After that, Infected tucks his dick back into his pants and sits up. He flips the pillow over before laying on it again.

Poob doesn't respond to him, throwing the tissues into the bin in the opposite corner of the room. It falls on the floor and they get up to throw it away properly. They button up their pajama bottoms before they lay down next to Infected. "So… Do you have any plans for Pest?" They tap their fingers across his chest, laying on their side.

"I have a few," Infected says. "First of all…"