#its like that lady on twitch who was like its not enough if you just follow my account you have to sUBSCRiBE because follows are Worthless

[euthymiya]

khaenriahn princess reader x knight capitano ; jealous capitano ; implied hidden relationship ; pre cataclysm ; royal au ; capitano is not cursed yet so his skin is supple and youthful ; banter and fluff

“There is word, my lady,” his voice says lowly. You hum, reaching over to grab at his helmet. Capitano gently captures your hand before you can, pulling it away from its path to uncover his face. There’s a fleeting frown on your lips, but it’s gone as soon as he brings it up and presses a small, delicate kiss to the knuckles through the dark cloth that hides him from you.

“Oh? What of, my dear knight?” You ask curiously. Something tells him it’s almost mockingly innocent.

“That there is a rather…determined prince seeking your hand in marriage.”

Sometimes, it feels unfair that very rarely do you get to see the face hidden underneath the armor, but you suppose you don’t need to see Capitano to know exactly what emotion is twisted in his face. You fight back an amused grin—his voice tells you all you need to know.

You’re certain he must taste his own bitterness as the words fall from his tongue.

“Such grand news,” you gasp, “and yet…you speak with such hesitation. Has this news not brought you joy, my captain?”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he says unamused, voice low and just shy of a grumble, “I value your wellbeing above all. Should a capable prince ask for your hand, I would be most delighted if that is what you accept.”

“You do not sound delighted at the idea,” you tease.

“Perhaps my lady has not given me reason to think she would be interested in such a proposition,” he mutters.

This time, his voice does, in fact, sound the slightest bit petulant—like a child who sulks after being scolded. His tone is usually one that is far too courteous. Painfully so, in fact. (You’ve spent a good number of exasperating moments insisting he be more casual with you. You reap the rewards of those efforts few and far in between). But now, he betrays himself with a flicker of frustration, far too evidently for even you to miss.

He realizes too late how childish the words must sound spoken so irritably. You can tell that he clenches his jaw, seeing the tension even under the mask as he forces himself to still the bitterness spreading through his veins.

“Tell me, my dear knight,” you grin. You can imagine the unhappy lift of his brow as you speak, “what makes you so certain I would be disinterested in such an enticing offer?”

“It seems my assumptions were incorrect,” he grunts, straightening his back before promptly adding, “forgive me, my lady. I must see to rather urgent military affairs. I shall be seeing you—”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Sir Capitano,” you quip, your hand grabbing at his wrist, tugging him towards you. He stills, stiff as a statue as your hand reaches for his helmet once more.

This time, he doesn’t stop you. He allows the lithe, delicate fingers he knows so well to grab at the edge of his helmet, carefully tugging it off before his face slowly reveals itself to you. You smile, cupping a cheek before tracing your thumb along the soft skin of his face.

“I am not jealous,” he says stubbornly.

“Haven’t they taught you never to lie to a princess?” You hum, stepping closer. His lips twitch just a fraction at the edges before two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. Flush against his chest. Tucked right against his heart. Pressed so close, you almost wonder if you could feel his heart beating through the armor if you paid close enough attention.

“You torment me, my lady,” he murmurs quietly, “I fear I cannot accept this arrangement. It would tear through my soul to watch you be wed to another.”

“Then do not watch me,” you whisper.

You have seen his eyes flicker with soft, warm affection countless times. There is beauty underneath the helmet he wears so often, beauty that not many are so fortunate to see. You see it often, though. In private, hidden moments that he affords you. In the quiet of your chambers where the maids cannot disturb you. In the corners of the palace where no one can interrupt your fleetingly lingering touches and longing gazes.

Your hands hold his face, slowly pulling him closer as you study every precious slope across his skin. The slightly jagged curve of his nose. The plumpness of his lips. The slant of his sharp cheekbones. Every feature you know by heart, and revisit in your dreams.

You smile lightly at the thought of his jealousy, as guilty as you should feel for teasing him. Your knight—and you, his beloved princess.

“Do you wish to marry a prince?” He asks, leaning into your neck, breathing in your scent as his nose trails up your jaw until it reaches your cheek. Your breath hitches. His lips quirk into a smile.

“I wish to marry someone who owns my heart,” you say breathlessly, “prince or not.”

“Perhaps what you need is someone who is far more capable of carrying the weight of your heart. You possess rather discerning taste—it is not easy to please you, my lady.”

You huff, glaring at him from the corner of your eyes as you ask, “do you mean to call me difficult?”

“Among other things,” he chuckles. There’s a light, teasing trail of kisses pressed to your skin, leading straight to your lips. Capitano knows exactly what he’s doing, though—he stops just at the corner of them, making you pout as you try to lean in and close the gap.

He grins smugly, pulling away just enough to create distance between your mouths.

“You should not toy with a princess,” you say, displeased.

He hums, rubbing the small of your back as he counters, “and you should not toy with the heart of a man devoted to you.”

“Forgive me, my dear knight,” you murmur, gently bringing his face closer as your hands cradle his face once more, “I shall not torment you with such teasing again.”

“I am most grateful, your highness,” he fights back a chuckle.

Jealousy is unbecoming on someone as noble as the captain of your military forces. You like the way it looks on him just a little, anyway. Love the way his posture is more rigid and his voice is sharper when forced to consider the possibility of your heart yearning elsewhere. Enjoy the way he holds you tighter and closer as cool armor steals your warmth.

“Shall I tell this prince I am not interested?” You ask with a knowing look.

He hums thoughtfully, a smug smile playing on his lips as he replies, “no, I think I’d rather witness the expression of his highness when he realizes his charms hold no sway over you—a rare defeat for a man so certain of his allure.”

“Someday I shall marry you, my dear knight,” you whisper. Finally, with a softened look, he leans in to kiss you. Slow. Delicate. So gentle, it almost feels like you are one whisper from the wind away from falling apart.

“I look forward to it, my lady. Not even celestia could stop me from claiming your hand.”

————————

The last line is a big rip if you know what I mean 😔

[regularbeans]

the more people write thinkpieces about why you're problematic if you dont reblog and only like posts (especially art and fics i guess) the less ill reblog those posts. i have three aries placements, dont tell me what to do /hj

[brunchable]

Christmas Present | B. B.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F! Reader Themes: Christmas Meet-Ugly, forced proximity, enemies-to-lovers(ish), rom-com Summary: You and Bucky are fighting over the last deluxe holiday gift set. The petty bickering escalates into a full-blown argument in front of shocked holiday shoppers, causing store security to intervene. As punishment, the frazzled guard handcuffs you together in the security office until you both "calm down." A/N : This oneshot is part of my 4K Follower christmas themed celebration. I hope you enjoy this first one! Thank you so much for reading my stories! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was supposed to be a quick trip. Grab the deluxe toy train set, pay, and leave. That was the plan. But life had other plans, and those plans came in the shape of a six-foot something man with a smirk as sharp as the jawline above it.

You reached for the last box on the shelf—your prize, your golden ticket, the sole reason you braved the chaos of twenty-third shoppers.

"Excuse me, I believe I was here first," you said sweetly, gripping the box.

"Excuse you, sweetheart," the man countered, one metal hand already gripping the other end of the box. "I had my eye on this before you decided to swoop in like some holiday vulture."

"Holiday vulture?!" you spat, yanking the box closer to your chest. "I don’t see your name on it, Terminator."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to make you flinch. “Name’s Bucky, not Terminator. And I’d be happy to write it on the box for you... after I take it home.”

“Not happening,” you hissed, tugging harder. The box creaked ominously under the strain.

“Let go,” he growled.

“You let go!”

By now, a crowd of amused onlookers had formed, phones out, capturing every moment like a live-action reality show. One kid shouted, “Go lady! You’ve got this!” while a woman in a reindeer sweater whispered, “This is better than The Bachelor.”

“Look, lady,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, “I don’t want to ruin Christmas for you—”

“Oh, really? That’s what this feels like!”

“But my friend’s kid specifically asked for this,” he finished, as if that were a valid excuse.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, so did my niece. And unlike you, I didn’t wait until the last minute to shop.”

“Your cart’s full of candles!” he shot back, pointing to your precariously stacked haul.

You gasped, scandalized. “They’re scented candles and they make great gifts! Not that you’d understand.”

“I understand they’re not as hard to find as this!” he said, gesturing wildly to the now-doomed train set.

The tug-of-war escalated, your battle waging in the aisle of festive chaos. The crowd grew, complete with commentary.

“Bet five bucks on the lady!”

“Ten on the guy with the arm!”

And then—CRASH. The box tore clean down the middle, spilling its contents across the floor. Tiny train cars scattered like shrapnel, and a miniature conductor figure flew into a nearby stroller, making the baby cry.

Gasps echoed through the store as you and Bucky froze, still clutching your respective halves. Somewhere in the distance, someone yelled, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

A whistle cut through the air. “Alright, break it up, you two!”

You turned to find a middle-aged security guard glaring at you like an exhausted babysitter. His name tag read “Carl,” and he looked about one tantrum away from quitting.

“We were just—”

“I don’t care!” Carl snapped, his moustache twitching with barely contained rage. “Both of you. Security office. Now.”

The security office smelled like stale coffee and regret. You sat handcuffed to Bucky, who, despite his protests, looked far too comfortable with the situation.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, yanking futilely on the cuffs. “We’re adults!”

“Debatable,” Carl deadpanned, sipping from his 'World’s Best Grandpa' mug. “You two are staying cuffed until you learn how to act like it.”

“I’m not a criminal!” you protested.

“Not what the footage shows,” Carl replied, spinning his chair to reveal the grainy security camera feed of you and Bucky mid-squabble. The freeze-frame of you squawking like a bird while clutching a toy train in a death grip was particularly unflattering.

“I’m offended on her behalf,” Bucky said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, shut it,” you hissed, elbowing him.

“You’re the one who tore the box!”

“You’re the one with the metal arm. That thing’s basically a wrecking ball!”

Carl slammed his mug down. 

“Enough!” He massaged his temples like a teacher on their last day before retirement. “You’re staying here until I feel confident you won’t burn the store down.”

“Burn the store down?” you repeated, aghast, throwing your hands in the air as much as the cuffs allowed.

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” Carl muttered, eyeing both of you like feral raccoons fighting over a sandwich. With an exhausted sigh, he locked the door behind him and muttered something about “needing a damn coffee break,” leaving you and Bucky alone in the tiny, overheated room.

The silence that followed was so oppressive it felt like the room had shrunk. Only the faint, mocking jingle of Jingle Bells played faintly from the store’s speakers as you and Bucky sat shoulder-to-shoulder, stewing.

Bucky, apparently unable to sit still, started bouncing his knee—a rapid, relentless motion that made your entire chair vibrate like a washing machine on spin cycle.

“Stop that,” you snapped, glaring at him.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, his knee bouncing harder.

“Your leg,” you hissed. “The whole chair is shaking! Are you trying to make me seasick?”

His lips twitched, clearly enjoying your misery. “It’s a free country.”

“Not for your knee, it’s not!”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be bouncing my knee if I wasn’t chained to someone with candle obsession issues,” he shot back.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who went full WWE over a toy train set!”

“You’re the one who tore it in half, lady!” he said, pointing accusingly.

“I was fighting for my family’s honor,” you retorted dramatically, crossing your arms as much as you could.

“You mean your candles.”

“It’s called being thoughtful, you Grinch impersonator!”

His knee bounced harder, and you grabbed his leg in desperation, making him pause. “Seriously, stop! I’m going to throw up, and then you’ll really regret this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But only because you look like you might actually hurl, and I don’t need Carl coming back and cuffing me to the radiator this time.”

“So,” Bucky continued after a beat of silence, “Do you always fight strangers over train sets, or is today special?”

You glared at him. “Do you always shop last minute and ruin people’s holidays, or is that your side gig?”

He snorted. “Ruining holidays? That’s harsh. I’m saving them.”

“By what? Sabotaging shoppers?”

“By making sure my best friend’s kid gets the one thing he asked for,” Bucky replied, voice softening slightly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. 

“Okay, that’s… kind of sweet,” you admitted reluctantly.

“What about you?” he asked. “Candles for everyone?”

“No,” you mumbled. “The train set was for my niece. She’s… had a tough year.”

Bucky nodded, silence enveloping the two of you yet again, the tinny chorus of Frosty the Snowman blared overhead, and the absurdity of your situation finally hit you. You started giggling, and to your surprise, so did he.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, still grinning.

“This,” you said between laughs. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been part of.”

“Right,” he agreed, laughing harder.

For the first time since being forced to sit there, you weren’t arguing. Well, unless you counted arguing about whose laugh was uglier.

Carl finally returned, jangling the keys like a janitor who had seen too much. His Santa hat was slightly askew, and his mustache twitched with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He looked like someone’s adorable grandpa who had just been told the grandkids set fire to the Christmas tree.

“Alright, you two,” he grumbled, unlocking the cuffs. “You’re free. But before you go…”

He planted his hands on his hips, his gut straining against his red vest, and glared at you like you’d just stolen cookies from the jar. 

“I’ve been doing this job for fifteen years, and let me tell you, I’ve seen a lot of nonsense. But this—” he waved a hand between you and Bucky “—takes the fruitcake. Grown adults fighting over a toy train set like it’s the last turkey on Earth? Really?”

You started to open your mouth to argue, but Carl cut you off with a stern wag of his finger.

“No, no. Don’t even try to explain. You’re both guilty. Guilty of being Christmas disasters. And you…” he pointed at Bucky, his stubby finger trembling with indignation. “You’re what? Pushing 40? Shouldn’t you know better?”

That’s when Bucky’s lips twitched. And twitched again. And suddenly, he was laughing. Not just chuckling—a full-on, shoulder-shaking laugh that echoed through the tiny room.

Carl’s mustache twitched in annoyance. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said between gasps for air, “but… I’m being lectured by someone who looks like Santa’s understudy.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re like a cute little Christmas elf—just missing the pointy shoes.”

Carl’s face turned as red as his vest. “I am not cute!” he barked.

“You kinda are,” Bucky said, grinning.

You smacked his arm. “Stop antagonizing him!”

But even you couldn’t suppress a giggle as Carl threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I’m done. Get out. Both of you. Before I call other mall security and have you escorted out by the Grinch Squad.”

Bucky saluted dramatically. “Merry Christmas, Carl!”

Carl muttered something about needing a stiff eggnog and waddled back to his desk, leaving you and Bucky to stumble out of the security office.

“Well, that was fun,” you deadpanned, starting to walk away, only to stop when Bucky called out.

“Wait! Hey!”

You turned, eyebrows raised. “What? Did you leave your dignity back there?”

He ignored the jab, shoving his hands into his pockets. For the first time since the ordeal started, he actually looked... awkward.

“I, uh… was just wondering what you’re doing after this.”

You blinked at him, genuinely caught off guard. “What am I doing? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, serious,” he said with a little shrug, his smirk less cocky and more boyish now. “You’re, uh… funny. And kind of cute, when you’re not threatening to strangle me over toy trains.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“This—” you gestured dramatically between you both “—is the foundation of your flirting strategy? Chaos, insults, and shared custody of a train set?”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he teased, grinning now.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I just spent an hour handcuffed to you while debating whether or not to throw you out a window, and now you want to… hang out?”

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, like this was the most reasonable suggestion in the world.

“Because this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “I barely know you, we’re still enemies by all accounts, and—”

“You haven’t said no,” he interrupted, cutting you off with a pointed look.

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Damn him and his stupid smirk.

Finally, you sighed, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity. “Fine. But if this turns into another wrestling match over a menu, I’m walking out.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Whatever you want.”

As you both walked out of the office areas and back to the mall, you muttered under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Believe it, sweetheart,” he said, falling into step beside you. “And next time? Maybe we’ll skip the handcuffs… unless you’re into that.”

You glared at him, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving into an unwilling smile. Maybe chaos wasn’t such a bad foundation after all.

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room as Bucky groggily reached for the remote. Still half-asleep, he flicked on the TV, more out of habit than interest. The morning show’s upbeat jingle played, and he squinted at the screen, his brain catching up to the cheerful voices of the two hosts.

“—and now, for what might be the most hilarious Christmas shopping moment caught on camera!” the female host announced, barely suppressing her laughter.

Her co-host, a grinning man in a Santa tie, chimed in, “Oh, this is a good one. Forget Hallmark—this is real-life rom-com material, folks. Roll the clip!”

Bucky froze mid-stretch as the screen transitioned to shaky footage of himself and you, locked in a dramatic tug-of-war over the train set in the middle of the toy aisle. The commentary from the crowd was clear as day.

“Go lady! You’ve got this!”

“Ten bucks on the guy with the metal arm!”

“Oh, no,” Bucky muttered, sitting up straighter, dread pooling in his stomach.

The video jumped to the box tearing in half, scattering train pieces like confetti, followed by the baby wailing and someone shouting, “SANTA WOULDN’T APPROVE!”

The hosts erupted into laughter.

“Okay, okay,” the woman said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m calling it now—this is the meet-cute of the decade. I can hear the Hallmark writers typing this into a script.”

Her co-host nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Two strangers, both fighting for the same toy on the eve of Christmas eve—classic enemies-to-lovers setup.”

They both howled with laughter as the clip transitioned to grainy security footage of you and Bucky cuffed together, bickering like an old married couple.

“And this is where the movie writes itself,” the man said, pointing to the screen. “They’re forced to spend time together, cuffed in the security office. Sparks fly. Cue the heartwarming ending!”

The woman leaned toward the camera, her expression conspiratorial. “So, the real question is… did they exchange numbers? Did they get coffee? Did they—”

Bucky groaned and buried his face in his hands as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, flipping it over to see a message from Sam:

Sam: Congratulations, you’re famous. 

A second message immediately followed:

Sam: Also, what happened next? Don’t leave me hanging! Did you at least get her number?

Bucky tossed his phone onto the bed with a groan, only for it to buzz again. This time it was Steve:

Steve: They’re right. This does sound like the start of a love story. Please tell me you didn’t blow it.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face as the TV hosts continued speculating.

“What do we think, folks?” the male host asked, gesturing dramatically. “Should we start a Twitter campaign to find out what happened next? I need closure!”

“Absolutely!” the female host replied. “If you’re watching this, toy train couple, please—reach out. America is invested.”

“I’m never leaving the house again.” Bucky groaned louder, sinking into the pillows. 

His phone buzzed again.

Sam: Famous AND trending. Look at you.

Bucky grabbed a pillow and smothered his face with it, his muffled voice barely audible: “I hate Christmas.”

He sighed and shifted, his pillow falling to the floor—he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, his irritation melted away as he looked to his right, where your figure was still peacefully curled under the covers. Your hair was a mess from the night before, your cheek pressed against the pillow in a way that made you look adorably innocent—though Bucky distinctly remembered you weren’t so innocent a few hours ago.

A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. He let out a breath, shaking his head as he muttered to himself, “Actually. . . Maybe I don’t hate it too much.”

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @Janonymus0 @veronicapaula

[theonottsbxtch]

can you do a bonus part to your franco x piastri!reader series, where the rest of the grid reacts to their relationship

THE OTHER GUY BONUS PART | FC43

an: i really enjoyed giving you guys this bonus part, they're so cute i love them so much

fc: random brunettes on pintrest

twitter

interview with yn piastri

The bright lights of the paddock press conference feel warmer than usual, or maybe it’s just the tension in the air. You’re sitting in front of a lady who pulled you aside for a quick interview, her eyes sharp, knowing that every word, every glance, will be dissected later. The end of the Formula 1 season always brings its own frenzy, but this time, all the focus is on you. You could feel the attention, the hum of anticipation in the air.

The interviewer leans forward, a grin on her face as she adjusted her microphone. You knew what was coming. After weeks of speculation, cryptic posts, and a whirlwind of gossip, it was finally out. She was most definitely about to ask the question that has been burning on everyone’s mind.

“What a way to end the season, yn,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “That was quite a statement you made.” There was a pause, just long enough for the her to try and get you to say something. “Franco Colapinto. What a bold choice.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your legs slowly, letting the moment linger. You watched as she waited for your response, hanging on your every word. You smirked, leaning into the mic just a little.

“What can I say?” you shrugged nonchalantly, though you knew exactly what you were doing. “I pitied the guy.”

You could see the corners of her mouth twitch, trying to hold back a laugh. She wanted more, they always did.

“Is that all?” the interviewer presses, her tone playful but probing, looking for cracks.

You didn't flinch, not even a bit. You’d played this game long enough, and you knew how to stay on top. Your lips curved into a smirk, your eyes narrowing slightly in mischief.

“Yup,” you said, keeping your voice light, almost bored. “This is my charity work for the year.”

The interviewer burst out into laughter. You let the words hang in the air, knowing full well they would be all over the headlines tomorrow. But before the interviewer could push further, you felt a warm presence behind you, familiar hands sliding around your waist.

You stiffened for just a second, caught off guard—not by the touch itself, but by the timing of it. You knew it was him. Franco pulled you closer, his chest pressed against your back, his scent—clean and comforting—filling your senses. You could hear the faintest murmur of his breath against your ear before he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, completely unbothered by the cameras flashing all around. His embrace was steady, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

The room fell into an almost stunned silence, as the interviewer watched the two of you, waiting for the next bite of drama. But there was nothing left for them to feed on.

The interviewer’s eyes widened slightly, clearly trying to decide whether to ask more or just let this moment speak for itself. She cleared her throat, a little flustered by the sudden turn.

“Well, I think that’s a perfect note to end on,” she said with a nervous chuckle, glancing between you and Franco. “Thank you, yn, Franco. I’m sure we’ll all be talking about this for a while.”

lando norris twitch stream

williamsracing

liked by ynpiastri, francolapinto, alex_albon and 984,247 others

a surprise visit from our favourite internet sensation

*tap to load more comments*

francolpainto: muyyy lindaaa

userone: i'm telling my kids they were romeo and juliet

usertwo: best wag ever

lilymhe: how he pulled her will always remain a mystery

oscarpiastri: @/ynpiastri i'm telling mum you're a traitor

f1 posted a new video

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0 @st4rgirl-ellie @dullypully @cinderellawithashoe

[jyoongim]

i came across this reel and my immediate thought was "lucifer finding out alastor wanted to date his daughter" (not charlie ofcccc)

Morningstar!Reader x Alastor

>i switched it up a bit so it’ll be Lucidaddy finding out Alastor is dating his baby<

————————————————————————————-

“Just play it cool sis. Its just dad” you tried to reassure your sister, Charlie who was sweating profusely. You grabbed her hand and gave her a smile which made the older girl calm down a bit.

”Youre right! Its just dad…hahaha”

Vaggie had suggested that since the hotel wasn’t going like planned that Charlie should call y’all father. 

Who just happened to be the King of Hell itself.

Charlie shot it down, but you knew that your dad could help relieve some of the stress off the both of you.

So you had everyone in the hotel cleanup and promise they would be on their best behavior.

especially your boyfriend.

”Just be your charming self without the sarcasm please” You pouted up at the tall demon, who sported a smile as he hummed in acknowledgment at your words.

You were nervous to introduce Alastor to your father. You didn’t really have much experience with dating and the relationship between the two of you was as good as it was between him and your sister (slightly better because you’re his baby). You just wanted everything to be smooth enough to slip that you were dating someone.

Surely nothing could go wrong right?

——————————————————————

“Hi dad wel-OH!” Charlie wheezed as Lucifer pulled her into a big hug, squeezing the air out her lungs

”Charlieeee!” He gushed before his eyes caught yours.

You tried to avoid the bone-crushing hug, but your father was too fast; pulling you in as well.

”Oooh my girls how I’ve missed you!”

You missed how Alastor’s eye twitched.

You and Charlie squirmed out of his grasp, trying to regain your composures as you sucked air back into your lungs.

Charlie cleared her throat “Dad welcome to the Hazbin Hotel” she gave a wobbly smile as she showed the last minute decorated lobby.

She introduced all the residents so far and just as she was continue showing him around, Lucifer looked at the bar

”Oh! What in the unholy hell is that?” He looked to you

”babygirl tell me you didn’t approve of that?”

Before you could say anything, Alastor manifested by your side.

”I thought it adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” His smile was big, showing off his teeth.

Your dad grimaced, looking from Charlie to you to Alastor “who-who what are you the bellhop?” he asked.

Alastor laughed “haha! Oh no! I am the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard my radio broadcast?”

Lucifer deadpanned “nope. Maybe that’s why the girls call it the ‘Hazbin hotel ahaha”

you and Charlie winced.

Alastor narrowed his eyes “It was actually my idea.”

”Oh? Well it wasn’t every clever” Lucifer challenged, making Alastor bend to his level ”Ahaha Fuck you” Alastor hissed.

You and Charlie got between the two, you frowning at Alastor, slapping his chest, while Charlie tried to distract dad.

”OoohOk! Dad Alastor here has been a big help.” She said trying to paint the Overlord in a more positive light. She looked at you as if to help plead her case.

”She’s right dad” you said with a smile “Without Alastor I don’t know how we would have gotten this far” you looked at the red demon smiling “he’s been good to us”

That was true. You have no idea where the hotel would be without Alastor’s help.

“These two lovely ladies have such optimistic hearts. I am more than happy to fulfill any desire they have” Alastor said, smiling down at you, wrapping an arm around you, pulling into his side.

Your father narrowed his eyes at the actions and growled lowly.

”uuuh huuuhh. Well-” he slapped Alastor’s arm with his cane and guided you and Charlie to the other guests to be introduced.

”how about you introduce me to your OTHER friends?”

When Charlie introduced Vaggie, you felt your stomach ball in a knot. “Oh you like girls THANK goodness!ahaha” Lucifer’s eyes caught yours, a nervous smile of his face “don’t tell me my baby is in a relationship as well?” Oh what a hopeful look he had.

You looked at Charlie, who gave you an encouraging nod, you cleared your throat, straightening up

”o-oh well about that…” you nervously laughed, looking down as you wring your hands.

A large hand grabbed yours to ease your nervous antic, and instead intertwined your fingers together. You look up to see Alastor standing behind you and bringing your interlocked hands to his lips and press them to the back of your hand. He smiled at you softly as he wrapped his other arm around you.

You looked over to see the King of Hell looking like he’s going to be sick. 

“Dad…Alastor isn’t just the host of the hotel…he’s also my boyfriend” you said smiling at your dad.

Lucifer went to say something, but your sister stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder “Dad she’s happy and i know Alastor looks like he’s up to no good which most of the time he isn’t   But he actually makes her really happy. Look”

The short king watched as the tall red demon gave you a squeeze, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead and nuzzle you. He saw how Alastor looked at you with complete devotion, while you looked at him with love in your eyes.

He sighed, bringing your attention back to him. He held out his hand, a tight smile on his face “nice to meet you”

Alastor grinned and shook his hand…before wiping it like it was the most repulsive thing “pleasure to meet you sir!”

You sighed a breath of relief. That wasn’t so bad.

”Tell me…you haven’t slept with my daughter have you?”

”DAD!”

”DAD!”

”what?! I can ask that!?”

”Your youngest has an insatiable sexual appetite”

”AL!”

”SAY WHAT!?”

[amongemeraldclouds]

starry eyed

Tom Riddle never meant to feel affection. That warm, sickly feeling felt like indigestion and heartburn. An inconvenience. But Salazar, you had never been on a date. It was an injustice he needed to make right.

Tom Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request | Fluff

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.9k words

It was just supposed to be another project. Tom Riddle expected you to just be another schoolmate who would let him do most of the work so he could have things exactly as he wanted. He never minded the work; enjoyed it, even. But he did mind having another student’s grimy fingers all over his carefully planned and skillfully executed projects. Just the thought of it made him want to cast crucio on whoever owned those grimy fingers.

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits. 

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold. 

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky. 

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

A/N: Tom secretly liking biscuits is so adorable. A subtle nod to our tea party!

[criticallyinneedofadar]

The North

Uh oh. New hyperfixation just dropped.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Tragaryen!Reader

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

The cold cuts through your thick cloak as you descend Cannibal’s side, his black scales glinting faintly in the weak northern sun. Winterfell rises before you, a stoic fortress that speaks of enduring hardship and unyielding honor. The men waiting at the gates, wrapped in furs, watch you with expressions ranging from curiosity to mistrust. To them, you are not the Dragon Queen’s emissary, not a rider of the Cannibal, nor a strategist who has studied every battle fought in the Seven Kingdoms. You are just a girl—a second daughter.

But they will learn.

Cannibal growls low behind you, the sound reverberating in your chest, and the men instinctively step back. You hide your smirk as you step forward, head held high, your boots crunching on the snow-packed ground.

Lord Cregan Stark waits in the courtyard, his gray eyes like a winter storm, scrutinizing you. He is taller than you imagined, broad-shouldered and clad in furs that make him appear even more imposing. A faint scar bisects his left eyebrow, and his expression is as unreadable as the Wolfswood in winter.

“Lady Targaryen,” he says, his voice deep and resonant, carrying over the murmurs of his men. “We do not often see dragons in the North, let alone one such as yours.”

You incline your head, keeping your voice steady despite the cold biting your cheeks. “Cannibal and I go where duty commands, my lord. My mother has sent me to call the banners of the North in defense of her claim to the Iron Throne. The honor of House Stark is known even in the halls of Dragonstone.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but not unkindly. “And yet, she sends you instead of your elder brother. I wonder why.”

The question hangs in the frosty air, a test if ever you’ve heard one. You meet his gaze unflinchingly.

“My mother does not send fools to treat with wolves,” you reply. “Jacaerys flies east, but I have studied the North’s history and strategies since I was old enough to hold a book. I know its people, its lords, its victories—and its sacrifices. You may question my youth or my blood, Lord Stark, but do not question my ability.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, perhaps a hint of amusement or approval, but he says nothing for a moment. Finally, he gestures toward the hall.

“Come inside. The North is not kind to dragons—or their riders—when left too long in the cold.”

You nod and follow him, acutely aware of the curious gazes trailing after you. Cannibal rumbles again as you leave him behind, his presence a lingering shadow even as you step into the warmth of Winterfell’s great hall.

The great hall is alive with the warmth of a roaring hearth, its walls hung with banners of direwolves and the scent of roasted venison thick in the air. You sit at a long table, opposite Lord Cregan, with his advisors flanking him. They are older men, clad in heavy furs and carrying the stern expressions of those who have weathered many winters.

From the moment you entered, they have looked at you as though you are a curious ornament, a bauble sent south to charm and flatter.

“…Of course, it is a delicate matter,” says one, a gray-bearded man named Lord Mors Karstak. His tone is patient, as though explaining a simple concept to a child. “The men of the North value strength, but they also value respect. Perhaps it would be best, Lady Targaryen, if you left the… delicate matters of war to those better suited to them.”

Your spine stiffens, the words wrapping around your pride like a vise. You meet his gaze, your expression unmoving, even as your blood begins to boil.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘delicate matters,’ Lord Karstak?” Your voice is even, but it carries an edge sharper than Valyrian steel.

The room falls still. Lord Karstak shifts in his seat, clearly expecting you to demur, but you do not give him the satisfaction.

“Well, my lady,” he begins again, his tone softening as though you are a maiden too tender to hear the truth. “The raising of men, the planning of battles, these are tasks that require a certain… authority.”

“Authority,” you repeat, leaning forward slightly. “I see. And what about riding dragons, Lord Karstak? Do you believe that requires authority?”

His brows furrow. “I—of course, my lady, but—”

“Do you ride a dragon, Lord Karstak?”

The question lands like an arrow, and the other advisors glance at him uncomfortably. He clears his throat. “I do not, my lady.”

“Do you command the loyalty of a beast that has lived longer than the walls of Winterfell?” you press, your voice growing colder with each word. “Have you flown above the clouds, stared down armies, or felt the fire of your mount burn away the enemies of your house?”

Karstak is silent now, his face redder than the embers in the hearth.

You lean back, letting the moment settle before turning your gaze to the others. “I may not have gray in my hair or the winters of the North etched into my face, but I am a dragonrider of House Targaryen. My mother has trusted me with the honor of commanding dragons and men alike. I suggest you remember that before assuming I am here to embroider banners or pour wine.”

Lord Cregan remains silent, but there is a glimmer of something in his eyes—approval, perhaps, or at least curiosity.

Finally, it is another advisor who speaks, a lean man with the pinched face of a fox. “Well said, my lady. But the North is no place for grand gestures or fiery displays. It is built on trust and loyalty. And trust is not so easily won by words alone.”

“Trust is earned,” you agree, your gaze steady. “But if you wish to see action, you need only ask. Give me a challenge, and I will meet it. If you seek proof of my worth, I will provide it.”

The men exchange looks, some dubious, others intrigued.

Cregan finally speaks, his voice calm but firm. “That will not be necessary. Lady Targaryen has come here with her mother’s trust, and I intend to see that trust is respected. If any of you doubt her words, you may speak to me directly.”

The tension eases, though Karstak continues to glower. You incline your head toward Cregan, silently acknowledging the support, though you know this is just the beginning. If the North requires proof of your strength, you will give it to them in full.

You are no gentlewoman of the court. You are a dragon. And soon, they will all understand.

[arabella0001]

i know its long but plspls give it a chance!!

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession (Illumi Zooldyck x Reader)

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession

Pairing; Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Anime: Hunter x Hunter

Synopsis:A woman with secrets, a man with control. Illumi Zoldyck finds her, and their silence lingers with something unspoken.

Warnings: slow burn, dark themes, rough sex, fingering, comfort in Illumi's way

You’ve always kept to the edges, moving through life unnoticed. You’ve had your share of battles—physical and otherwise—and learned early that blending in was as important as any skill. Your past is a blur, just fragments you’ve pieced together, like a puzzle you can’t quite finish. In the shadows, you thrive, and that’s enough for now.

There’s always been a quiet certainty that when the time comes, you'll be ready. You’re waiting for something, though you can’t say what—maybe a clue, or someone who knows more about you than you do. Tonight, it’s just another evening, another bar, another meet-up. But your instincts tell you something’s off.

The bar was shrouded in shadows, the faint flicker of a red neon sign casting eerie shapes on the cracked floor. You pushed through the heavy door, the creak of its hinges slicing through the muffled hum of conversation. The smoky air wrapped around you like a warning, but you ignored it, your heels clicking softly as you approached the bar.

Two men sat at the far end of the bar, framed by the flickering light. One of them lounged lazily, a grin stretched across his lips—Hisoka. Beside him, the other man sat perfectly still, an eerie contrast to Hisoka’s theatrics. Illumi who absentmindedly wrapped his hair around his finger while Hisoka teased him, clearly enjoying the moment.

Illumi’s needle hung from his robe as usual, while his other hand rested casually on his knee, ever ready to strike if necessary.

“Illumi, don’t be so dull. Where’s the fun in that?” Hisoka chuckled, looking amused.

“Be quiet, before I make you” Illumi replied, rolling his eyes in annoyance, still sipping his drink.

Hisoka’s gaze snapped to you almost instantly when he sense your nen, knowing exactly that you are Y/N,  his grin unfurling like a blade hidden in silk. He adjusted his suit jacket with deliberate flair, the faint gleam in his eyes hinting at both curiosity and danger.

‘Well, well, look what we have here,’ he purred, stepping toward you with unsettling grace.”

“A lovely lady, all alone and ripe for the picking.”

He extended his hand towards you, offering it with a gentlemanly air, though a glint of mischief danced in his eyes. Illumi remained seated, his gaze flicking between you and Hisoka, his needle twitching slightly, as though he were anticipating whatever might happen next.

You raised an eyebrow at Hisoka’s bold approach, your crimson lips curling into a smirk. A small part of you felt uncertain—there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right. “And just what do you think you're 'picking'?” you asked, your voice calm, but with an edge of challenge. Despite the unease creeping at the back of your mind, you accepted his hand.

Hisoka's grin widened at your firm handshake, a spark of amusement lighting up his eyes. “Oh, my dear, I’m not sure yet. But I have a feeling you’re going to make this evening very... interesting,” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice turning husky. “Care to join me and my friend for a drink? We can discuss the possibilities.”

Meanwhile, Illumi remained passive, watching the exchange with interest. His eyes flickered between you and Hisoka, seemingly impassive. His needle quivered faintly as though waiting for the right moment to strike. When your gaze met his, Illumi simply studied you with his trademark unreadable expression, the coolness of his stare sending a chill through the air.

Your eyes lingered on the Illumi’s needle, his cold presence making your pulse quicken. There was something unsettling about the stillness in his posture—it was like he was watching you with the precision of a predator. A chill ran down your spine, and despite the intrigue it sparked, you couldn’t deny the sense of danger radiating from him. Your heart beat a little faster, the unease creeping up on you, yet you couldn’t look away.

“You seem... interesting,” Hisoka said playfully, glancing over at Illumi with a mischievous glint. “Our friend here looks like he’s already sizing you up. No need to worry about him,” he added, with a wink.

You turned to Illumi, your gaze steady, though you felt a slight unease at his intense observation. The silence between you two was thick with unspoken tension. His presence was imposing, yet you couldn’t look away.

“Well now,” you said, breaking the silence. “A drink won’t hurt.”

You slid into the stool next to Illumi, crossing your legs and leaning back slightly, still feeling his piercing gaze on you.

Hisoka clapped his hands together clearly pleased with your response. “Excellent choice! Another round for us, bartender,” he called, signaling for more drinks.

Illumi remained silent, his posture relaxed but alert. He regarded you with the same intense focus, his gaze sharp, as if assessing you on some deeper level.

“So, tell me” Hisoka said, returning to his seat beside you after collecting the drinks. “What brings a stunning woman like yourself to a place like this? Looking for adventure, perhaps?” Hisoka’s question was light, but the underlying curiosity was clear.

You took a slow sip of your drink, never breaking eye contact with Illumi. His attention was making you feel uneasy, but you stayed composed. You couldn’t help but wonder: why was he playing with that needle? What was his deal?

After a moment, you turned to Hisoka, offering him a small, confident smile. “Just passing through, waiting for a friend,” you replied smoothly, your voice calm but with a hint of mystery. “What about you two?”

Hisoka chuckled, sipping from his own glass. “Just enjoying the finer things in life: good company, fine liquor,” he said, winking at you playfully. “Perhaps a little entertainment, if you’re in the mood.”

Illumi, on the otherhand, didn’t respond verbally. He simply tilted his head slightly, studying you with a gaze that felt as though he were trying to see through you. The needle twitched once more, drawing lazy circles in the air, as if testing the limits of the tension between you.

The silence stretched on, uncomfortable, until Illumi finally spoke. “Your friend had better hurry,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “This isn’t a safe place for someone like you to linger.”

His words were cryptic, but there was an edge to them, something that made your skin prickle.

You glanced at Illumi, your eyes narrowing. “Someone like me?” you asked, not sure if you were being threatened or warned. Hisoka, sensing the tension, stepped in to break the silence.

“Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said with a soft chuckle, placing a calming hand on Illumi’s shoulder. “Our guest seems perfectly capable of handling yourself. Aren’t you, Y/N?”

Hisoka’s tone was light, but there was a subtle edge beneath the words, as though he, too, were aware of the growing competition for your attention.

You noticed the way Hisoka’s touch on Illumi’s shoulder seemed both friendly and possessive. It was clear they had some sort of complicated relationship, and you were caught in the middle of it. But what caught your attention, is that they know your name, but you decide not to speak about it.

You raised an eyebrow at Illumi’s comment, trying to keep your cool despite the unease settling in your chest. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you perhaps… threatening me?” you whispered, your voice steady, even though the tension in the room was making your heart race.

Illumi’s lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. “Threaten you? Oh, no. I'm merely offering... a warning.” he purred, his tone oozing with condescension. “Consider it a courtesy.”

Hisoka quickly intervened, his voice soothing. “Pay him no mind, Y/N. My friend there speaks in riddles sometimes. It’s just his way of showing interest.”

Despite Hisoka’s attempt to downplay the situation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more complicated was at play here.

You looked at Illumi’s mocking smile, the chill creeping up your spine at his tone. You turned back to Hisoka, trying to ease the tension. “I’m not sure I buy that,” you murmured to yourself, then smiled at Hisoka, attempting to lighten the mood. “But thanks for the intervention.”

Hisoka chuckled, clearly unfazed by the tension. “Ah, always so perceptive, aren’t you?” He raised his glass in a toast. “To new acquaintances and the intriguing games we play, hmm?”

The tension between the three of you remained thick in the air. Illumi leaned back in his seat, watching you intently, his needle still tracing lazy patterns in the air.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to Hisoka. You could feel his eyes flickering over you, sensing your curiosity.

Hisoka grinned, clearly pleased by the question. “Oh, I dabble in many pursuits,” he said. “Collecting rare artifacts, attending underground fights, savoring exquisite cuisine...” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for dramatic effect. “And occasionally, I provide a... more exclusive form of entertainment for those who know how to appreciate certain... unique talents.”

His words were playful, but there was a sense of pride in them, as if he relished in his dangerous lifestyle.

As you turned to Illumi, you could feel the weight of his silent gaze. His presence was suffocating, and you sensed the layers of his mystery, but he didn’t respond.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your tone casual, but with a trace of challenge. The air between you two thickened.

Hisoka’s grin widened, but he avoided giving you a direct answer. “Illumi here is a man of many talents,” he said vaguely. “He has a... certain calling in life.”

Before you could ask more, Illumi stood up abruptly, the scraping of his chair on the floor making you tense.

“Enough idle chatter,” he said coldly. “If you’re done prattling, perhaps our host has something more stimulating in store for us.”

He turned and began to walk toward the exit, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake. You watched him leave, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. His mention of a "host" caught you off guard. Who was he talking about? The way he spoke suggested something far more serious than a casual meeting, but you couldn't place the connection yet.

“Well, that was certainly an interesting introduction,” you said to Hisoka, trying to shrug off the discomfort.

Hisoka chuckled, unbothered by Illumi’s abrupt exit. “Yes, Illumi can be a bit... intense,” he said. “But don’t worry, he means no harm... unless provoked.”

Hisoka leaned closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. “I find your reaction to him quite fascinating,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?”

You turned your gaze back to Hisoka, intrigued by his words, but still uncertain of where this night would lead.

“Well, I've faced worse than his eccentric personality,” you smile jokingly.

Hisoka’s grin widened, clearly amused by your bravery. “Is that so? I’d love to hear more about these ‘worse’ encounters of yours. Perhaps over dinner, hmm?”

He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks. As they waited for their refreshments, Hisoka continued to regale you with outrageous tales of his adventures, each one more bizarre and captivating than the last.

Meanwhile, Illumi re-entered the bar, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He slid onto the stool next to you, his presence subtly overwhelming. Despite the physical space between you, you couldn’t escape the weight of his gaze, as if he were silently dissecting your every movement.

You glanced at him as he returned, going back to the host he’d mentioned earlier—but of course, you had no idea what he meant by that. There was something about the way he had said it, a certain expectation, as if his presence here was tied to more than just a casual meeting.

You noticed Hisoka’s quick, subtle gesture when Illumi sat down—a nearly imperceptible nod, as if confirming something without words. It didn’t escape your attention, but you couldn’t quite place its significance.

“Okay, I’m done,” you say calmly, though clearly irritated. “Do you have a problem?” you ask, looking at Illumi, bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Illumi’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. However, there was no sign of anger or aggression in his demeanor. Instead, he tilted his head and studied you with a curious, almost intrigued look.

“Problem?” he repeated in a low, measured voice. “Hardly. I simply find your... audacity rather intriguing. Most would have fled in terror at the sight of me, yet here you stand, unflinching.”

He leaned back in his stool, his posture relaxed, but his gaze never strayed from you. “Tell me, what drives someone like you to face danger so directly? Is it bravery, stupidity, or perhaps something else?”

The question lingered, heavy with a subtle menace. Illumi’s gaze pierced into you, as if trying to read something in you only you could answer. Hisoka observed the interaction, clearly fascinated, eager to see how you’d handle Illumi's probing.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain composed despite Illumi's unrelenting stare.

“It’s none of your business,” you respond firmly. “And... why should I be terrified of you?” you meet his gaze without flinching, even though your heart races slightly faster.

Illumi’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile at your defiance. “Brave words,” he murmured softly. “We’ll see how long they last.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a fleeting, chilling touch. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of disgust and morbid fascination. “Perhaps I should demonstrate just how terrifying I can be,” he purred, his voice carrying a dark, unsettling promise.

Before you could react, Hisoka placed a hand lightly on Illumi's shoulder, his voice a smooth contrast to Illumi’s ominous tone. “Now, now, let’s not scare off our lovely guest just yet,” he chided, a playful edge in his words.

Turning to you, Hisoka flashed that signature, teasing grin. You quickly pull your arm away from Illumi’s touch, a sense of unease growing in your chest. Your heartbeat quickens, his aura undeniably dangerous, but there’s also something about him that draws you in. Still, the feeling of being unsettled and annoyed lingers.

“Thanks for the intervention,” you say to Hisoka, giving him a brief but grateful look while keeping your attention fixed on Illumi. “But I think I’ll leave now.” You stand, meeting Illumi’s intense gaze one last time.

Hisoka rose to his feet with a sweeping bow. “A pleasure, You. I do hope our paths cross again, though perhaps next time in less... tense circumstances.”

As you made your way to the door, Illumi remained seated, his gaze unwavering as he watched your every movement. “Until next time” he whispered, his voice carrying a dangerous promise.

Once you exited the bar, Hisoka whistled lowly. “Quite the spark between you two,” he said, his eyes flicking to Illumi. “I hope you can handle the flames to come.” Illumi remained silent, watching the door with a slight, unreadable tilt of his head. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something crossed his face—perhaps a mix of interest and calculation—but he didn’t comment. Hisoka smirked, sensing the night was far from over.

You stepped outside into the cool evening air, the wind brushing against your face. Your thoughts raced with everything that had happened—Illumi, Hisoka, the odd tension that hung in the air between the three of you. Something about them—about him—kept you intrigued, despite everything telling you to stay away.

The following days passed in a haze. Between training your Nen and trying to keep your mind focused, the encounter with Illumi and Hisoka lingered at the back of your thoughts. You went through your routines, honing your skills in the solitude of your own space, but a nagging thought kept surfacing: Could this strange connection with them somehow serve your ultimate goal?

Your instincts told you to stay cautious, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something much larger.

That night, just as you were about to slip into restless sleep, a knock at your door shattered the silence. Your heart raced, pulse quickening with anticipation. Hesitant, you approached the door, peeking through the peephole. A shadow loomed outside.

"Illumi?" you whisper, barely above a breath.The knocking continues, more insistent this time.

You hesitate, every instinct telling you to stay safe. Yet, curiosity overwhelms you. Slowly, you open the door just a crack.When you see Illumi standing there, you freeze for a moment, unsure what to do. Part of you wants to slam the door shut, but the other part... is intrigued.

"How do you know where I live?" you ask, your voice a little more uncertain than you'd like to admit. "What are you doing here?" You keep your gaze locked on him, your body on alert.

Illumi steps inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door softly behind him. In the dim light, his presence feels almost suffocating—like a predator watching its prey.

"You shouldn't be surprised," he murmurs smoothly, his voice like silk. "In our world, secrets aren't hard to uncover. Especially when someone as... captivating as you is involved."

He steps closer, his proximity sending a ripple of heat through your body. The danger in his every move is undeniable.

"I came to extend an invitation," he says, his voice low, mesmerizing. "Tomorrow night. A private gathering. It will be... an experience you won't forget."

You swallow, trying to hold your ground as his gaze locks onto yours. His presence, so close, sends an electric current running through your skin, leaving you with a chilling sense of unease—and, for some reason, something else.

"I don't think so," you respond, trying to keep your composure. "I don't trust you yet to accept an invitation from someone like you."

Illumi’s lips twitch into a small, calculating smile as he watches you. His gaze is cold, yet there’s something predatory in it. "That’s precisely why you should consider it," he says, his voice low and steady. He reaches forward, his fingers grazing the side of your face with eerie precision, his touch cold yet deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

"We’re not used to being dismissed," he continues, his voice unwavering and cold, yet there’s an underlying intensity. "Especially by someone with potential. Consider it a test—a way to prove you’re worth our attention. A challenge, if you will."

He leans in slightly, his breath cold against your ear. "If you prove yourself, the rewards may outweigh the risk," he says, his voice steady but carrying an unsettling weight. He pulls back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. "Until tomorrow night. Don’t take too long."

You watch him leave, your heart still pounding in your chest, the intensity of his presence lingering in the air. You hate that your body responded the way it did. Part of you feels intimidated, but there's also an undeniable temptation, a pull you can't seem to shake.

The next day, you're pacing your apartment, anxiety gnawing at you. The offer, the invitation, the mystery—it's all too much to ignore. Despite your better judgment, you're drawn to the dangerous allure of Illumi and Hisoka. By the time the sun sets, you've made up your mind.

You arrive at the mansion on the outskirts of town. The eerie quiet of the place sends a chill down your spine, but your curiosity pushes you forward. Inside, you spot Illumi waiting for you, his piercing gaze immediately locking onto yours.

"Well, well," he drawls, his voice like velvet. "Look who decided to join us. I must say, I'm impressed."

You stand tall, despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, meeting his gaze with a steely resolve. "Impressed by what exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "I must admit, I find your... choices somewhat intriguing." You don’t dare voice your true thoughts, though a part of you feels the pull of his presence.

Illumi chuckles softly, a sound that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Oh, my dear," he purrs, his eyes dark with quiet amusement as he circles around you, "it’s not just my... choices that draw you in, is it?" His voice is smooth, dangerous, a predator’s calm before the hunt. "It’s the power I carry, the silent threat, the allure of what lies beneath the surface."

He steps even closer, so close you can feel the heat of his presence. Stopping behind you, he leans in, his breath grazing your ear. "But don’t worry," he murmurs, his fingers cold as they gently cup your chin, turning your head to face him. "I won’t hold it against you. In fact, I find your boldness... rather intriguing."

With a deliberate motion, he guides your chin to face him fully. His cold fingers send a shiver through you, contrasting with the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Shall we proceed?" he asks, his voice low, commanding, almost hypnotic.

You try to hold your ground, though it’s hard not to react to his proximity, to the way he takes control of the space between you. "Let’s get this over with," you say, your voice betraying a hint of unease, though you strive to sound unaffected. "Lead the way."

Illumi's grip tightens slightly, a silent reminder not to challenge him further. "As you wish," he responds, releasing your chin with a fluid motion before stepping back.

He leads you down the mansion’s corridors, each step echoing through the vast, silent halls. When you reach a heavy door, guarded by silent figures, Illumi unlocks it with a key, revealing the eerie blue light spilling from within.

"Welcome to our little sanctuary," Illumi announces. "Inside awaits an experience beyond your wildest imagination."

You step inside hesitantly, immediately feeling the weight of the atmosphere. The air is thick, pulsing with an almost tangible energy, and the blue light casts an ethereal glow over everything.

"What is this place?" you ask, your voice tight with uncertainty. "And who else is here?" You glance around, sensing eyes on you from the shadows, though you can’t make anyone out.

Illumi senses your unease and speaks with a calm, almost possessive tone. "This is a sanctum for those who appreciate the finer things in life," he explains, guiding you deeper into the room. "The company is... eclectic. But don’t worry, they mean no harm... for now."

He looks at you, his gaze unreadable. "As for the others, let's just say you've caught the attention of some very... interesting individuals." He places a hand on the small of your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "We’ve been discussing the possibility of adding you to our little family."

Your breath catches. "Family?" you repeat, your voice wavering slightly. "I don’t even know what you do. I’m not sure I’m interested in joining your... family."

You glance around again, noticing how the shadows seem to shift, as if alive, watching you.

Illumi’s grip on your back tightens, his voice low and cold. "Oh, you’re already a part of it, whether you like it or not," he says, his tone calm yet firm. "Once you've crossed paths with us, there’s no turning back."

He leads you to a raised dais at the center of the room, motioning for you to sit. "Sit," he commands. "Now."

You obey, though the feeling in the room only grows heavier, more oppressive.

From the shadows, Hisoka emerges, a wicked grin on his face as he looks you over. "Well, well, look at our little bird perched so prettily," he says, his voice dripping with dark amusement. His gaze shifts to Illumi. "She looks like she belongs here, don't you think?"

You feel a shiver of dread as Hisoka's gaze locks onto you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Part of you feels threatened, yet the way Illumi stands near you, his eyes fixed on Hisoka with a certain quiet possessiveness, makes you feel... somewhat protected.

Hisoka steps closer, his grin widening. "In a world full of mediocrity, we seek out the extraordinary," he says with a mocking tone. "And you, my dear, are a rare gem indeed."

Before you can respond, Illumi places a hand on Hisoka’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop. "Enough games," he says quietly, but with an edge to his voice. He turns back to you, his demeanor shifting to something more serious, yet still oddly intimate. "We’re not merely what people assume us to be. We are... curators of chaos, seekers of the sublime."

You listen to his words carefully, still trying to wrap your mind around everything. You're intrigued, but more than a little scared. There's so much you don't understand.

"So, what is it you want from me?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "What is your game? What are you, assassins?" You joke, but oh dear, their gaze tells you everything, and you freeze, realizing the truth of their job.

Illumi’s smile grew, a thin, calculating line that didn’t reach his eyes. "Assassins, mercenaries, enforcers—labels are irrelevant when you're dealing with the best of the best," he said, his voice a low purr. "We’re not concerned with ownership; we’re more interested in partnership."

Hisoka snorted, his grin widening. "Partnership implies equality, sweetheart, and you're nowhere near our level. But don’t worry, we’ll bring you up to speed."

Illumi placed a hand on your knee, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the deadly nature of their profession. "Think of it this way—you'll be part of an elite circle, operating on the fringes of society. No ordinary life for you anymore, my dear. Just the thrill of the unknown, the rush of adrenaline in the face of danger..."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize they are indeed assassins, and it troubles you more than you intended. You feel in danger here—there’s no way out. The mansion is full of people waiting for you to join their group, but... why?

As you overthink, staring at them intently, you suddenly realize something that terrifies you. You've heard of an assassin family—the Zoldycks—and you can't help but ask, a tremor running through you.

"Illumi... what's your full name?" You look at him, hoping for honesty, feeling tense and drawn to this dangerous man, almost seeking his comfort despite the fear bubbling inside you.

Illumi’s smile widened, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Ah, you've done your research," he purred, leaning in closer to you. "My full name is Illumi Zoldyck."

He watched your reaction intently, savoring the shock on your face. "Yes, I come from a long lineage of assassins," he continued, his voice low and hypnotic. I’m the shadow that moves unseen, the force that shapes outcomes without lifting a finger. I’m a master of control, an architect of fate—everything I touch bends to my will."

Hisoka chuckled darkly, interjecting, "And a total psycho, if you ask me." Illumi shot him a withering glare, but then focused back on you.

"But enough about us," Illumi said, his tone shifting to a more intimate cadence.

Your eyes widen at the revelation, a chill running down your spine. You knew about the Zoldycks, but never thought you would meet one, especially not one so close to you right now.

"A Zoldyck..." You mutter under your breath, trying to process the new information. You look at him, feeling a mix of fear and fascination as you’re drawn to him. "Why do you need me to be part of... your group?"

Illumi doesn't answer directly about your role in the organization, but he can’t help but feel drawn to you in a way his family wouldn't approve of. Though cold and calculating on the surface, there's something different when it comes to you. He won’t show this weakness, of course.

Illumi leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded you with an unreadable expression. " Let’s just say... you’ll fit nicely into the framework we’re building. There’s always a place for the right person."," he replied cryptically.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Yeah, she's got the spark, the fire in your belly. We could mold your into something truly exceptional."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint in his eye before returning to you. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Hisoka paused, studying your reactions closely. "So, what do you say, my dear? Are you ready to embrace your destiny and become part of our little family?"

You swallow, feeling like a pawn in a game you don't fully understand. The allure of power, of being part of something bigger than yourself, is undeniable.

 "I... I’ll think about it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, torn between fear and curiosity. You can't tear your eyes away from Illumi.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Oh, my, you're torn between fear and curiosity? How delicious! I can't wait to see what you’ll choose... or maybe I just want to watch you squirm."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint flashing briefly in his eyes before returning to you. There was an undeniable intensity in the way he looked at you, like he was considering you, weighing you, perhaps even contemplating something more. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Illumi rose from his seat, towering over you, his eyes boring into yours. "I’ll give you time until tomorrow night."

Afterward, you head home, your mind consumed by everything that happened. As you think, your thoughts drift to Illumi.

As you departed, Hisoka called after you, his voice echoing through the mansion's grand halls. "Don’t take too long, darling! We’re eager to see what you'll become!"

Illumi, meanwhile, remained standing, his piercing gaze following you until you disappeared from view. Once alone, he allowed himself a fleeting moment of introspection, his thoughts drifting to the enigmatic woman he had encountered.

Despite his usual composure, there was an unfamiliar warmth simmering within him, a sensation he couldn’t quite define. Illumi pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—molding you into the perfect asset for their organization.

The next evening, as planned, Illumi awaited your arrival, his demeanor as cool and collected as ever.

You arrive at the mansion, nervous and troubled by the decision you just made. As you step inside, you see Illumi standing there, looking calm and collected as always. Your heartbeat quickens.

Illumi greeted you with a nod, his eyes assessing your appearance and demeanor. "You've decided, then?" he asked matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Come, let's discuss the details of your new role."

Without awaiting a response, Illumi turned abruptly, his movements deliberate and fluid as he led you deeper into the mansion. His steps echoed in the silent corridors, and you couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, like he was drawing you into a world you weren't sure you were ready for. The maze of corridors felt endless, each turn more isolating than the last.

"I assume you have some experience with combat, " Illumi said, his voice low, almost assessing. His gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, a subtle but deliberate scrutiny. "We'll start with a physical test. I want to see what you're capable of. "

As Illumi finished speaking, the door creaked open behind you, and Hisoka leaned in casually, his grin widening as he sized you up. 'Well, well,' he purred, 'Let’s see if our recruit lives up to the Zoldyck legacy. "

Following Illumi, your pulse quickens, a mix of nervousness and something else, something unfamiliar. The door to the training room swings open, and the cold gleam of weapons lining the walls hits you like a slap. This was no ordinary training facility—it was a shrine to death, and you were about to become a part of it.

I... yes, I have some combat experience,' you reply, trying to sound confident, but your voice betrays a hint of uncertainty. His gaze, slow and deliberate, traces over you—making you feel both exposed and oddly... seen. You force yourself to stand tall, though your heart races under the weight of his scrutiny.

You notice Hisoka observing you with keen interest, his grin widening as he watches your interaction with Illumi.

With a deep breath, you brace yourself, feeling Illumi’s eyes still on you, studying, calculating. His nod is almost imperceptible, yet his gaze remains sharp and intense, like a predator’s. 'Let’s start with something simple—agility, reflexes. Show me what you can do.' His words, though neutral, hang heavy in the air, a silent challenge."

He pointed to the obstacles ahead—hurdles, balance beams, pendulums swinging with mechanical precision. 'Your task is simple,' Illumi said, his voice calm but firm, 'Cross without making a mistake. Only the ground should feel your weight. Understood?'"

Before you could respond, Hisoka chimed in, "And remember, sweetie, speed and precision are key! Show us what you're made of!"

Illumi glanced at Hisoka, his expression a sharp mix of annoyance and something else—something colder. But he didn’t waste words. His gaze snapped back to you, every ounce of his attention now fixed on your every move. "On my count," he instructed, raising his hand. "Three... two... one..."

You nod, taking a moment to observe the obstacles before you. Your mind races with strategies and tactics, trying to decide the best approach.

As Illumi starts counting down, you spring into action, moving swiftly across the floor. You leap over the hurdles, balancing carefully on the narrow beams, and dodging the swinging pendulums with quick reflexes.

Halfway through, you feel a surge of adrenaline, pushing you to move even faster. With a final leap, you land safely on the ground, panting lightly.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you look up at Illumi and Hisoka waiting.

Illumi watched your performance with a critical eye, noting your speed, agility, and overall technique. When you finished, he gave a slight nod of approval. "Not bad. You managed to complete the course without major errors."

Hisoka, on the otherhand, was practically bouncing with excitement, clapping his hands togetyour gleefully. "Bravo, bravo! What a delightful display of athleticism! I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed."

Illumi raised an eyebrow at his friend's exuberance but turned his attention back to you. "Next, we'll assess your marksmanship skills. Follow me."

Without a word, Illumi turned, leading you to a shooting range tucked in a quiet corner of the room. The stark silence of the space was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint sound of your breath. 'Prove your worth,' he said coldly, 'Handguns, rifles, knives. Show me what you can do.

You follow Illumi to the shooting range, feeling a mix of confidence and trepidation. You’ve handled guns before, but not in a formal setting like this. Nodding, you select a handgun first. Illumi helps you check the weight and grip before you aim at the target, his touch on your hand making you unfocused for a second. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze the trigger, hitting the center of the bullseye. Next, you move on to the rifle, your aim steady and true as you fire off round after round, each bullet finding its mark except one. Finally, you pick up a knife, flipping it expertly between your fingers before demonstrating your throwing skills. The blade embeds itself in the wood of the target.

Illumi observed your performance with a calculating gaze, his expression unreadable. When you completed the tests, he stepped closer, inspecting the target results.

"Decent accuracy with the handgun and rifle," he remarked, "but room for improvement. That stray shot could’ve been fatal in a real-world scenario."

Hisoka, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the minor flaw. "Pfft, a single miss? Hardly a concern, darling! With practice, you’ll be hitting your marks every time."

Turning to you, Illumi continued, "Your knife work is satisfactory, though perhaps a bit flashy for our purposes. We prefer subtlety and efficiency in our assassins."

He paused, studying you intently. "Overall, you demonstrate potential, but you still lack the polish and discipline required for our organization."

You listen to Illumi's critique, a small part of you stung by the criticism, but you push that aside, focusing on his words of guidance instead.

"Okay." You nodded. His cold, enigmatic demeanor makes you so aware of your surroundings.

Illumi's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded curtly. "Very well. We'll continue your training tomorrow. For now, rest and prepare yourself mentally for the challenges ahead."

With that, he turned and wanting to leave, leaving you alone with Hisoka. The latter grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don’t worry about old Illi’s harsh words, sweetheart. He’s just trying to whip you into shape."

Hisoka sauntered closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. "I, on the otherhand, think you’re perfect just the way you are. Though I do hope you’ll indulge me in a few... extracurricular activities tonight."

He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I have a feeling you’d look stunning drenched in blood."

With that, Illumi shot Hisoka a glare, making him leave. Hisoka already knows that his friend Illumi is interested in you, but he doesn’t say it directly. Illumi doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to you—the cold, calculating, and emotionless man on the surface. He can’t help but make you squirm and tease you in his own way, but he mostly focuses on the mission ahead.

Illumi’s glare held a clear warning, and Hisoka knew better than to push furtyour. With a playful smirk, he bowed mockingly before turning on his heel and departing, leaving you alone once more with the enigmatic assassin leader.

Illumi returned his attention to you, his expression unreadable. "Tomorrow, we will focus on strategic thinking and adaptability. Be prepared to face unpredictable scenarios."

Without another word, he dismissed you, his actions as abrupt as they were efficient. As you exited the training room, you couldn't shake the sensation that Illumi's interest in you went beyond mere professionalism—but the cryptic nature of their interactions left you unsure how to interpret his intentions.

Later that night, Illumi entered your quarters without awaiting an invitation, his usual composed façade slipping for the briefest moment as he took in your appearance. The fleeting flash of desire in his eyes earlier seemed to intensify in this intimate setting, and despite his attempts to suppress it, he couldn’t ignore the pull.

"I trust you're resting adequately," he stated, his voice low and measured. "Tomorrow, we'll be engaging in close-quarters combat drills. Your agility serves you well, but you must learn to harness your strength more effectively."

As he spoke, Illumi’s gaze roamed over your form, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his eyes tracing the curves of your body beneath your attire. The air between you thickened, heavy with an unspoken tension. It was a strange feeling, as though his usually tight control was slipping—something more primal simmered beneath the surface.

"Remember," his voice trailed off, his eyes still lingering on you as he tried to steady his breath. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his body as he stands closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space.

You swallow, trying to maintain composure under his intense gaze. His voice is cold and calculated, but you can’t ignore the thrill that runs through you at the sound of it. You nod, acknowledging his instructions about the upcoming training session.

The air between you both feels electric, charged with something neityour of you can fully control. As Illumi draws closer, his proximity seems to suffocate you, making it harder to breathe. Your senses heighten as he stands just a little too close, a small distance remaining between you—but not enough to ignore the intensity of his presence.

Illumi’s internal struggle was evident. His disciplined assassin’s mind was still sharp, but it was no match for the growing pull of his desires. He had been raised to control everything, to compartmentalize every part of himself—sexuality included. Yet, for some reason, you seemed to be different. This thought frustrated him; he couldn’t allow such feelings to complicate matters. But even as he thought this, his body betrayed him.

Illumi’s gaze darkened as his fingers tightened at his sides. He clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain control.

"Illumi...?" You look at him, hating yourself for the way your body seems to lean toward him. His presence is consuming, and despite your attempts to fight it, you find yourself wanting him closer.

Illumi’s resolve cracked under the weight of his desires, his stoic mask slipping away. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he closed the space between you, his hands reaching out to pull you flush against his hardened body. His touch was rough, possessive.

"You should not intrigue me so," he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "It complicates things unnecessarily."

But despite his words, his hands remained on you, his fingers pressing possessively into your waist, his body hard against yours. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, an animalistic hunger he could no longer suppress.

Your breath caught in your throat as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his muscular frame. The danger he embodies is palpable, but it only draws you closer, your body betraying your better judgment. You can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the heat radiating from him, and yet, you can’t pull away.

His words, laced with frustration and desire, hung heavy in the air. You can sense the internal battle he’s fighting, the need to keep control clashing with something far more primal. You can practically feel the tension between you, the undeniable pull that neityour of you wants to acknowledge.

"I could say the same thing," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet the words seem to carry a weight of their own.

Illumi’s grip tightened on you, his thumbs brushing along the sensitive skin of your lower back as he ground his body against yours. "Then perhaps we should indulge in these... complications," he purred, his voice dripping with dark promise.

With swift, practiced movements, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed onto yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of you as though he couldn’t get enough.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, leaving you gasping for air. You clung to him, returning his kiss with equal desperation, lost in the whirlwind of sensations, pleasure, and danger that only he could provide.

You gasp as Illumi’s kiss deepens, his dominance taking over as he pulls you closer, his movements quick and forceful. The danger and excitement mix within you, the fear of what might happen next blending with a yearning you can’t deny.

His skilled tongue dances with yours, igniting a fire within you that spreads throughout your entire being, you moan softly into the kiss, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations. Ilumi's hands explore your body with a hunger that mirrors your own, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake, you arch into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating caresses.

Illumi's lips left yours, trailing scorching kisses along your jawline and down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he nipped and sucked at the tender flesh.

One hand slid beneath your shirt, palming the soft mound of your breast as he continued his assault on your senses. His thumb flicked over your nipple, coaxing it to peak before pinching gently, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"We shouldn't rush this," Illumi breathed, his hot exhalation fanning across your damp skin. "But I fear my restraint is wearing thin." His fingers deftly unfastened your pants, sliding inside to stroke the slick heat of your core. "Tell me to stop, if you dare."

You barely register the sound of your pants being undone until his fingers slip inside, stroking your already drenched folds, making your knees buckle slightly, you can believe this the composed assassin Illumi you know, but you can’t help but feel aroused by him/

Illumi's fingers delved deeper, curling inside you to stroke your inner walls with a practiced ease that belied his typically reserved nature, his voice a low rumble filled with dark satisfaction. "Your body knows exactly what it craves, doesn't it?"

As he spoke, he added a second finger, stretching and filling your with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The wet sounds of their intimacy mingled with your ragged breathing, creating a lewd symphony that only served to fuel Illumi's desire. Though Illumi was never one for excessive words, but in this moment, he can’t help, his voice brough

"You should see yourself now," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours as he worked your tighter. "So compliant, so eager for more. It's almost...beautiful." With a sudden twist of his wrist, he found that secret spot deep within your, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cry out, unable to contain the intense pleasure, your back arches. The way he is so talkative, speaks so confident, so hynoptic, sends a thrill through you, even as a part of you wonders how he can be so bold, so unashamed of his desires.

“Illumi…” you gasp as you grind further on you his hand.

"Yes?" Illumi purred, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he sought to unravel you completely. "What is it you desire, little assassin? Speak, and I might grant your request."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Perhaps you’d prefer to break under my control, against the wall, with nothing but the sound of how you crumble to my mercy?" You gasp at his filthy words, your eyes widen of this part of him, almost possessive.

Illumi's free hand slid up your side, his palm sizzling against your overheated skin as he cupped your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly. "Or maybe you yearn for something more...depraved?" His thumb circled your nipple, tugging it into a tight peak that sent jolts of electricity straight to your clit.

Your breath hitches as Illumi’s words paint vivid images in your mind, each one more tantalizing than the last, his touch is addicitive, possesive, every caress igniting a fresh wave of desire within you, making you tremble.

Illumi's fingers picked up speed, plunging in and out of your quivering channel with a ruthless precision that bordered on violent, he groaned "I wonder how many times I could make you cum before you collapse from exhaustion."

He grind on your behind, bitting down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, as his other hand slipped beneath your shirt once more. His nails scraped across your ribs, leaving red welts in their wake, before he reached your breasts. Rough palms squeezed and kneaded the supple mounds, tweaking your nipples into stiff peaks that throbbed in time with the pounding of your heart.

"Illumi, please... "you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whimper.

"Yes, what?" Illumi demanded, his tone sharp with impatience. "Speak clear, Y/N"

His fingers curled inside your, rubbing that sweet spot with a maddening persistence. "Do you want me to fuck you harder? Deeper? Make you scream my name until your throat is raw?"

His fingers plunge deeper, faster, the brutal rhythm threatening to consume you whole. you can feel the coil of tension building within, making you close to your climax.

You start screaming, feeling how your orgasm wash over you and with a swift movement, not letting you relax, he spun you around making you gasp, pressing your back against the cold metal of the wall, the rough surface provides a stark contrast to the heated, intimate contact of his body pressed against yours as you gasp. One hand gripped your hip, holding your steady as the other fumbled with his belt, freeing his throbbing erection.

"I’ve decided I’m going to take what I want. Now," his tone sharp, positioning himself at your entrance.

His words are filthy, depraved, and they only serve to stoke the flames of your arousal higher, you can feel his hardness prodding at your entrance, a thick, pulsating promise of the pleasure to come.

“Yes, Illumi, fuck…please“ you admit breathlessly, your resolve crumbling under his touch and words.

With a feral snarl, Illumi surged forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out, your back arching as you felt him stretch your open, the sensation bordering on pain but suffused with overwhelming pleasure.

“So willing” Illumi hissed, his hips snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm. "This is what you needed, isn't it? I want to hear you admit it.”

“Yes…” You nodd desperately, feeling so intense and trembeling.

“Good. “" He leaned in close, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, his hot breath mingling with yours. "And I'm going to give it to you over and over again, until you're begging for mercy."

A strangled moan escapes your lips as Ilumi fills you completely, the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your entire being.

Each forceful thrust drives you closer to the edge, the friction of his hard length against your sensitive inner walls pushing you towards a precipice from which there's no return.

“yes.. Iillumi please, “you pant out, your voice a broken, pleading thing as you lose yourself in the relentless pace of his hips.

"Please what,Y/N?" Illumi taunted, his start gripping your throat slightly, moving your head towards him, as he drove into your with renewed vigor. "Tell me what you need, what filthy things you want me to do to you."

He captured your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his tongue dominated yours. At the same time, his fingers found your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud with merciless precision.

"Come," he commanded, breaking the kiss to nip at your jawline.  As if in response to his words, your orgasm crashed over your like a tidal wave, ripping your apart and rebuilding your anew in its aftermath. You screamed his name, your voice echoing off the walls as your pussy clamped down on his shaf.

Your mind goes blank as the intense waves of pleasure wash over you, Ilumi's relentless stimulation pushing you past the point of no return.

Your screams mingle with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, the obscene squelch of your arousal coating his cock as he continues to pound into you even as you come undone.

Ilumi's command hangs in the air, a dark challenge that only serves to heighten your awareness  of his own impending climax, you can feel him twitching inside you, his grip on your hips becoming almost painful as he struggles to hold back and you push into him more so you can help him.

With a guttural roar, Illumi buried himself to the hilt one final time, his cock pulsing as he unleashed a torrent of hot seed deep within your spasming depths. Each powerful spurt seemed to go on forever, painting your insides with his essence until you are filled to bursting.

As the aftershocks of your shared climax subsided, Illumi slowly withdrew, his softening member slipping free of your abused hole with a wet pop. A trail of cum dripped down your thigh, a visible testament to the thorough breeding you just received.

"Well, that was satisfying," Illumi murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he admired his handiwork.

His sharp eyes studied you for a moment, his stance unwavering. "You’re in no condition to keep standing like this."

Before you could spleak, he moved swiftly, placing a firm hand at your back to guide you toward the bed. His touch, though not gentle, was steady and unyielding. "Lie down," he commanded, his voice a low murmur.

You feel utterly exhausted, your body spent, yet vulnerable—vulnerable in a way you never thought you would be with a Zoldyck. The fear lingers that it was just a fleeting, intimate moment for him, and you long for the comfort of aftercare. You're conflicted, unable to predict his next reaction, fully aware of his cold, enigmatic, and stoic nature.

You look at him, unable to control the vulnerability in your expression. You can’t help but wonder, despite his personality and history, if you’ve become important to him—though it doesn't show on the surface.

Illumi’s gaze softened, if only for a heartbeat, as he took in your vulnerable expression. It was the briefest of cracks in his otyourwise impenetrable facade—a fleeting flicker of something raw, something human beneath his usual cold exterior.

Without a word, his fingers brushed over the marks on your neck, a touch so delicate it almost felt alien—so different from the relentless passion they had just shared. The contact was soft, almost tentative, sending a shiver through you, who couldn’t help but feel the weight of this quiet intimacy.

But just as quickly as it had appeared, the tenderness faded, replaced once more by his usual aloofness. "Get dressed," he said sharply, his voice regaining its customary chill. With his usual precision, he began to gatyour his discarded clothes, a stoic figure once more. "We have matters to attend to."

Your heart skips a beat at the brief, unexpected softness in his eyes—a connection so fleeting, so fragile, that it leaves you aching for more. But the moment evaporates as swiftly as it came, and you’re left questioning if it was ever truly there or just a brief illusion, a crack in the facade that closed too soon.

Can… you stay a little longer? you ask, a quiet uncertainty in your voice, hesitant of how he’ll respond.

Illumi freezes for a moment at your request, his assassin’s discipline momentarily faltering. The connection between you is something unfamiliar, something he hasn’t had to process before. His mind is caught between his hardened, emotionally detached instincts and the surprising intensity of the bond you're offering.

Illumi paused, his hand hovering just above his shirt as he considered your words. The room grew heavy with the tension of his contemplation. Finally, without a word, he sat down on the bed, his posture rigid, but not dismissive. He was clearly weighing something—something beyond his control.

"You want me to stay," he said flatly, his voice cold but with a slight edge of curiosity. His eyes never left yours. "Is that because you enjoyed our...interlude? Or is it something else entirely?"

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, a brief crack in his impassive exterior that he quickly masked. It was evident that You’s unexpected emotional intimacy had caught him off guard, forcing him to confront feelings and desires that he had never fully acknowledged before.

Your heart races as you watch Illumi sit, his presence overwhelming, as always, but now more than ever, it pulls you in despite the tension between you. His words cut through you, making your emotions feel more tangled, and you realize just how much you’ve invested in this moment—how much you’ve allowed yourself to feel.

"Yes... and no, " you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper, stepping closer, but still unsure.

You reach out, pausing, as if to test the waters, before carefully placing your hand on his knee. A quiet hope stirs within you—that this small touch, this tentative gesture, might offer the reassurance both of you are craving.

Illumi’s muscles stiffen at your touch, a sharp breath escaping his lips as your fingers make contact. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, just staring at where your hand rests on his knee, as though trying to process the strange new feelings this simple connection stirs within him.

Slowly, cautiously, he places his hand over yours. His touch is deliberate, firm, and warm, but there’s a hesitation in it—a carefulness that reflects how much he’s struggling with the emotions that you’ve brought to the surface. "I see," he says quietly, his voice low, but there’s a shift in it. "In that case, I suppose I can spare a few more minutes."

Illumi stands, his hand hovering briefly before he reaches for you. When he pulls you into his arms, the gesture is stiff, almost as if he’s testing how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. His arms wrap around you, but the embrace feels tentative, as though he’s still unsure of what to do with the warmth he’s suddenly feeling.

In the stillness of that moment, Illumi’s heart races in his chest, the thundering beat a stark contrast to the icy calm he’s always projected, betraying the chaos he’s desperately trying to suppress.

As Illumi pulls you into his arms, a sense of calm washes over you. His warmth is solid and grounding, a stark contrast to the heat and chaos of your previous encounter. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the closeness—the simple, quiet connection that feels like it might be more than just physical.

Though your emotions swirl within you, you keep them in check, not wanting to overwhelm him. Instead, you focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soothing sound of his heartbeat that seems to anchor you both in this rare moment of peace.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

Illumi’s arms tightened around you, holding you tight. The soft pressure of his body against yours was a sensation he hadn’t known before, and it both unsettled and captivated him.

"For what, exactly?" Illumi asks, his voice cool, but with a subtle hint of curiosity. "I'm not used to such gestures. Explain to me, why do you feel the need for this?"

But even as he spoke, Illumi didn’t pull away. Instead, his body stiffened for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing your temple in a brief, but telling gesture. It was a small act, a flicker of something he rarely allowed himself to show—soft, but unmistakably affectionate. It wasn’t much, but in that fleeting touch, something subtly shifted between them, a crack in the ice that had always surrounded him.

The press of his lips against your temple sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. The tenderness of the gesture, despite his usual stoicism, made you ache for more. You leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the intimacy that had quietly bloomed between you, fragile but undeniably real.

"For being here," you reply softly, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "For trying, even if it’s not something you're used to."

"Don’t get used to this," he murmurs, his tone strangely quiet, almost as if he's speaking to himself, not wanting to admit the slight shift inside him.

Illumi’s grip on you relaxed just slightly, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your back. Your words, simple as they were, had touched something within him. "Trying," he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly. "Perhaps that's an understatement for what we’ve done. But with you… it feels different. Necessary, almost."

He trailed off, his words unspoken, but the emotion behind them clear. Illumi was used to being distant, to keeping his feelings locked away. But with you, that wall had started to crumble—piece by piece, allowing something deeper to emerge.

Your heart swells at Illumi’s honesty, his words a raw admission that makes you feel even more connected to him. You press yourself closer, wanting to bridge the emotional gap between you, to share in the understanding that seems to be growing between you both.

"I feel the same, Illumi," you whisper, your voice sincere and filled with unspoken understanding.

Illumi's breath caught in his throat at your words. The sincerity in your voice reverberated through him, stirring something deep he wasn't prepared for. For years, he'd hardened himself against the idea of emotional connections—intimacy had always been something distant, too complicated to allow. But with you, the tension was palpable, like something he couldn’t push away, something he wasn’t sure how to control.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle, but with an intensity that spoke volumes. It was a stark contrast to the fierceness of their earlier encounter, but somehow, it felt more consuming—this kiss was softer, but it lingered with a weight he couldn’t ignore. It felt different, like a shift, like something he couldn't quite put into words.

As the kiss deepened, Illumi became painfully aware of every touch—your body pressed against his, the softness of your skin, the way your breath matched his, shallow but steady. Every movement seemed to pull him in deeper, and for once, Illumi couldn't escape it. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed him, but it was a feeling he found himself craving—something he hadn't realized he'd been missing until now.

[terry-perry]

Hey, I see you're looking for Alastor request to write him better.

Could I get Alastor x F! Reader where they're constantly flirting with each other until someone shouts just kiss already which takes Alastor off guard enough for the reader to sweep in and kiss him, then as he kisses back she gets dragged off to is room. The rest from there is up to you :)

Inspired by the writings of F. Scott Fitzgerald

"Do you think I ought to bob my hair, Alastor?" Y/N asked the distinguished demon by her side as they shared a few drinks at the hotel's bar. Husk busied himself by wiping some glasses, refraining from rolling his eyes as the pair continued with this back-and-forth.

"I'd look rather darling with such a hairstyle, don't you think?"

"An absolute dream, my dear," Alastor responded, regarding her more intently than usual.

He wasn't sure what it was, but something about her was especially vivacious that night. Perhaps it was the way she seemed to make a bit of effort to be on his level for the dinner-dance the hotel was hosting to celebrate its grand re-opening. Like with many of the antics that go on in the place, Alastor stood passively by, subtly scaring those who came close to him.

Then he spotted her.

He liked how becoming the dark red dress she wore was and how It set off her unnaturally shadowy eyes. Let's not forget about the way her hair glistened so! It was almost like the stars were woven into it.

"You know, back when I was alive, having such a hairstyle would be considered immoral, sinful," Alastor remarked, shamelessly reaching out to twirl a few strands of her hair around his sharp nails. "It was a sure and easy way to attract certain attention."

She took in the way his eyes floated towards hers, but not before making their way up slowly from her legs. Had he been anyone else, she would've disregarded his remark with a brutal slap (perhaps with something worse if she were in the mood). But this was the Radio Demon she was speaking with.

She knew she had him right where she wanted him the moment she stepped in. If her attire hadn't drawn him in, then it was definitely all the attention she gathered from the other party guests who would offer to dance with her. Each one that would head her way with enthusiastic determination would have Alastor's eye twitch before he finally decided it was his turn to cut in.

After that, she was his and no one else's. After all no one would dare be stupid enough to steal the Radio Demon's dance partner.

"Well, it's a good thing we're in Hell then," Y/N said, going as far as laying a hand on the normally touch-aversed Alastor's knee. In this case, however, a glow settled almost imperceptibly over him.

Their eyes met completely, and they stopped talking entirely as they stared at each other. It wasn't until an irritated voice intruded on their space and made the glow fade away.

"For fuck's sake, will you two just get it on already?!" Angel Dust screeched from the Y/N's other side. "This was amusing for a while, but you've been dancing around each other all night. The party ended hours ago, and you still haven't even kissed yet."

An awkward silence followed this. Alastor looked at Angel, eye twitching once more. He wouldn't understand that a classy lady like Y/N deserved to be wooed properly. She's, no doubt, heard every practiced line known in this side of the Pentagram. And she certainly wouldn't react well to such bold actions like hot kisses and heavy petting.

Alastor opened his mouth to explain as much when Y/N grabbed a hold of his face and placed a big kiss on his lips. He would've been more shocked had it not felt like such blissful oblivion. It was better than any glass of rye he had ever drank. He kept a stronghold of her, his claws piercing the small of her back while his other hand took hold of her hair.

They eventually released one another, going back to looking at each other.

"Forgive me," she managed to say between heavy breaths. She kept her bold smile on as well as a tight grip on his lapel. "You've got an awfully kissable mouth."

And with that, the glow returned along with a desire to finish this upstairs.

"About fucking time," Husk uttered, watching with Angel the way Alastor dragged a giddy Y/N to his room.

[queenimmadolla]

a little something from the vault. enjoy a little dad!eddie munson x mom!reader and their baby who knows her parents aren’t slick. from the pennyverse, of course. hope you like it :) ♡

You’re peaking your head out of the small kitchen, watching with a fond smile and a full heart as Eddie stretches out on the couch. In his arms, resting on his chest, is your angel of a baby girl. A few months old and developing a funny little personality. That personality does not enjoy napping. 

Penny’s got an extreme case of FOMO; can’t shut those big beautiful, brown eyes of hers if anyone else is awake or existing without her. Hence why your husband is pretending to sleep, though his hand maintains a steady patting rhythm on the baby’s back.

You can tell Penny is tired, rubbing her face with her balled up hands and into Eddie’s shirt out of frustration. Her curls all mussed up from the displays of agitation and from her dad’s fingers combing through the soft tufts over and over again (he can’t help himself, she’s much too cute and her hair is ridiculously soft). After every single little wiggle she does to fight off sleep, she goes real still and cranes her head up to stare at Eddie, who immediately drops his head back onto the pillow, eyelids flying shut. 

Eddie even adds in a few loud, cartoon snores and memememes which have you fighting to control your giggles.

Penny’s stare is unwavering though and you can’t prove it, but you’re positive that even as a baby—she does not trust either you or Eddie to actually be sleeping while putting her down for her naps (you’ve caved a few times—it wasn’t your fault though, whenever you tried the fake sleeping bit, she’d cry to purposely ‘wake’ you up).

Her stare lasts a few moments longer and you can see the twitch of Eddie’s lips, he’s fighting not to smile. Luck is on his side, Penny’s head lulls and then shakes as she once more tries to keep sleep at bay, rubbing her cute little face and those chubby cheeks into her daddy’s shirt.

Eddie makes the mistake of peaking an eye open too early—Penny stills and her head snaps up to catch him and you don’t bother to hide your laugh at his groan as she begins to whimper, having caught on to her daddy’s trick.

“Shhh, sweet pea, please. Close those pretty eyes.” He begs, fingers gently stroking over Penny’s eyelids to close them, and Eddie holds his fingers in place, hoping when he retracts them, her lids will stay closed.

Her eyes snap open the moment he pulls his fingers away and Eddie repeats the gesture, gently dragging her eyelids closed again as she whimpers, “No, you keep those watery eyes closed and to yourself, young lady.”

It’s an empty threat, Eddie’s already readjusting her as he sits up, shooting you a playful glare as he spots you. His next sentence is still directed at the baby in his arms, “You can’t keep getting away with this.”

Penny just whimpers and whines louder as she becomes more fussy, wiggling in her dad’s arms.

“Oh, yeah. You’re not getting out of this one, you are in desperate need of a na-AAHHH! AHHH! HELP! HELP!” Eddie yelps as Penny grasps onto his hair, pulling it with all her might. She can’t even crawl yet, and somehow, she’s got the strength of Hercules in that chunky, dimpled little fist. Eddie’s head is yanked to the side and he’s positive some of his hair will remain in her fist after he gets her to release him.

“Ow, ow—little help here, baby!” He calls out to you and you’re laughing the entire time as you pad over, taking her wrist into one hand as you gently pry her little fingers open. It’s a bit of a challenge, you get one little piggy to release its ironhold, and the moment you move onto the next, she clenches it back into place. 

When you’re down to her pinky, Penny immediately lunges for the curls dangling over Eddie’s other shoulder, and he doesn't grab her other wrist quick enough to stop her, “OH MY GOD, YOU CUTE LITTLE DEMON! Stop it! Release me at once!”

“Hey—she was part of your sperm count.” You can’t stop giggling and Eddie doesn’t look all that amused as he winces when Penny gives a particularly harsh tug on the hair in her other fist, still whimpering.

“I’m acutely aware—ow—that’s why I called her a cute demon—ahah, get it?—OW. Insider knowledge—ow! Okay, that’s it. You are taking this nap whether you like it or not now, you’ve just made this personal.”

[towriteloveontheirarms]

The princess´ favour (Criston Cole x Targtower!Reader)

synopsis: Your love may never be accepted by the people around you, that doesn´t hold you back from expressing it in the privacy of your chambers.

warnings: age gap, kinda forbidden relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving), afab reader

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

As a girl you never understood what was so great about tourneys. Sitting beside your mother, flinching away from the raw violence of it all, while your brothers watched with a fascination you had rarely seen them have for anything. However, now as a woman grown, you began to see the appeal. Not for the fighting, but for something entirely else. Or rather someone entirely else. Sitting all the way in the front row of the stands with your brother Aemond, who was just under the age of being allowed to participate himself, watching on as knight after knight gets knocked off their horse. Analysing and talking on and on about what they could have done better, while your eyes solely rested on one knight, sitting on his horse waiting for his turn to most assuredly destroy his opponent. Your knight, as you called him in the secrecy of hidden places in the gardens, empty hallways around the keep and your chambers in the dead of night.

When it is Criston Cole's turn to compete against some knight from the Reach, whose name went in one ear and out the other almost immediately, he rides up to the stands. As his horse comes to a stand, his helmet finds its way under his arm and those dark eyes search for your own.

With a poorly concealed wide smile you lean over the railing. "Ser Criston."

His eyes light up with the way his name sounds falling from your lips and his own lips split into a smile, nodding to you in greeting.

“Your highness. I am sure to win this tourney. Would you do me the honour of doing so with your favour?” His voice carries over the background of excited chatter and knights barking commands at their squires.

Without hesitation you skip over to the small table to grab the ring braided from acacia blossoms to let it down the lance that is safely propped up against his side.

“Good luck, Ser.” You chirp, waiting for him to bow his head ever so lightly and then ride away to take his position. Only then you sit back down by Aemond´s side. The side eye he gives you easily goes ignored, as in the moment he opens his mouth, the horses start to race towards each other.

Of course, Criston ends up successfully knocking his opponent off his horse, having you jump up to applaud him enthusiastically. Along many other Ladies. Yet one look of his beautiful, dark eyes is enough to quell your doubts about his loyalty. It would be your chambers he would be sneaking into later.

“Have I told you how much I hate seeing you get hurt like this?” Your thumbs run over his cheeks to assess the extent of his wounds.

“You have, princess.” Criston smiles up at you, brown eyes watering as you run one of the digits over his busted lip, despite his victory he naturally had taken a few hits himself.

The heavy plates of his armour discarded and the clothes underneath unbuttoned to reveal his muscular chest.

“My apologies.” You mumble upon hearing him suck in a sharp breath.

Criston shifts ever so slightly before he lets you put the washcloth to his skin again, wandering down steadily. When you reach his chest, the backs of your noses brush against each other ever so slightly. Your breath catches in your throat and almost reflexively Criston's fingers twitch against your thigh.

"How are you feeling?" You mumble, still fully concentrated on cleaning his wounds.

"I feel quite alright, now that I have you all to myself." Criston looks at you, the glimpse of something sparkling in his eyes.

"My attention will always be on you only, my sweet knight. My affections will only ever belong to you." You put down the cloth you had used to clean him up and run your hands through his hair, before kissing his forehead.

After that you barely separate until your foreheads rest against each other, noses rubbing against each other playfully, before Criston´s lips find their way onto yours. They lap at each other in tender, languid motions while eager hands run over clothed bodies they had explored a multitude of times before. Still, even if you knew each other’s bodies like the back of your own hand, you would never grow tired of it. In all this time the butterflies never calmed.

In the blink of an eye Criston joins you on the bed, straddling your hips and pushing you onto your back. The world spins around the two of you from the abruptness of the motion, as the rough pad of a thumb traces your jaw line first, before running over your lower lip.

Instinctively your legs wrap around Criston´s hips. Before your lips can seal in another kiss though, you roll the two of you around, to comfortably kneel above the knight with a triumphant teasing smile.

“You have done enough already. Let me reward you for your win.” You whisper against his neck.

The tip of your tongue traces a line down the middle of his chest and abs to the hem of his pants.

On the bed Criston propped himself up on his elbows to look at you better, his breath hitching as you teased just under the material.

“As you wish, princess.” He breathed, hiding a half smile, by biting his lower lip.

You follow this up by pulling his pants and breeches down to his ankles to set the tan hardness free from its confines. The same action makes your mouth water at the thought of what was to follow alone already.

In a matter of moments, you gently take the base of his cock into one hand to lick up the length of the vein on its underside. When the wet muscle reaches the tip, your lips wrap around it eagerly, teasing the weeping slit. Underneath the hand resting on his strong thigh, the tired muscles begin to shake from the teasing actions.

“Princess…” Criston's shuddering voice sounds through the room.

His dark eyes, though half closed, are trained as you give his cock an experimental suck. Taking it in just a bit deeper. As an immediate reaction you can see from the corner of your eyes how the knight’s hands grip the sheets a bit tighter. With a happy sigh at the reaction, you set a comfortable pace. His hips meet your mouth, thrusting up with trembling legs.

After a while his thrusts become harsher, hitting the back of your throat now to elicit the most enticing moans mixed with quiet gagging sounds he had heard from you.

Amid trying to concentrate on breathing through your nose and the view of him vanishing under a veil of tears, the hand on his thigh wanders upwards. Immediately his body trembling turned into a full-on shaking. Your hand barely cups his stones, yet the touch pulls a groan from him, that has the juices from between your legs dripping down your own thighs. The sound is more rousing than anything you had ever heard before. You gently roll them in your palm and the knees on either side of your shoulders tighten abruptly and Criston´s hips push off the bed and into your mouth on their own volition.

“So good… I don´t think I am able to hold back much longer.” The cries of pleasure from his lips grow louder, uncaring of who outside the door might hear them.

The tip of the knight’s length slips past the back of your mouth and into your throat to make you gag. The wet sound fills the room for a moment followed by sputtering and panting, as you desperately gasp for air. At the same time, you never stopped pumping his hard cock.

The quick motions and have his body shaking uncontrollably, even more so when you put your lips to his big sack, placing gentle, wet kisses onto it and sucking it into your mouth. The two of you moan in unison. The vibrations again send shocks through Criston’s body, his eyes rolling back into his head and arms underneath going limp, unable to hold him up any longer.

“Please, princess.” The begging whimpers get repeated like a prayer.

You barely manage to separate long enough from laving affection onto his lower body to answer. “Please what, my sweet knight?”

“I'm so close." Is the desperate, needy whine you get to hear in turn. “Please, I want to finish.”

It's truly adorable how he still asks for permission to let his climax overcome him. Hips trying to hold back from trusting into your hand until you answered his pleads, swollen lips hanging open and a sheen of sweat coating his face.

“Go on then. Paint my face with your seed.” You encourage him, before going back to pay attention to his stones. Your tongue flicks out to play with them, while your hand tugs on the knight’s hardness just a bit faster. The other hand, which rubs circles into his inner thigh again, wanders up just far enough to let one finger put the lightest amount of pressure on the point right behind the sack. The reaction it earns in return is all the bigger.

Criston´s hands fist into the sheets and the groan that breaks free from tightly pressed together lips has you praying that no one would storm into the chambers while Criston does as you have told him. Painting your face with his seed, making you look like one of the women serving in the pillow houses in flea bottom. The ones Aegon would talk about, whenever he wished to upset either you or one of your siblings.

And in the moment, there exists no more beautiful sight in the entire world to your secret lover. You continue pumping his cock until he has nothing more to give and the whimpers from above have turned even more raw and high pitched. For a moment after that you sit back on your haunches to just revel in the glow that shines from Criston after his climax. One finger collects the seed on your face to get it into your mouth.

After that moment of respite, the washcloth is picked right back up and wet again. This time to wipe your face first and the knight's privates afterwards.

But the second you crawl onto the mattress the both of you know that there is not much time left to cuddle. Outside the sun started to set, colouring the sky in all kinds of beautiful shades of red and orange. Alerting you that you would be expected at a dinner in your mother's chambers and Criston needed to go back on post. Perhaps you had taken a bit too long to take care of his wounds, but when your knight’s lips graze yours, his chest still heaving underneath your hand, you can't find it in you to care about any of that. Not as long as he would be lying there with you.

“I do not know what I have done to deserve you, princess. You are too good to me.” He rasps against your lips, noses brushing against each other to make the moment more intimate, as your hands wander over the other´s sides and arms.

“You deserve only the best. I hope you know that.” You answer in a raw voice.

[strawheart-pirate]

One Bed, Two Sinners

Zoro x afab!Reader

This is my Secret Santa for @eelnoise ! Merry belated christmas, Zi! I hope you enjoy! Love you 💚

Words: 3518 CW: N!SFW / pre relationship / nightmares / comfort / kissing / smut / oral (f receiving) / piv sex / no pronouns or nicknames used

You were aboard the Polar Tang, on your way to Wano, when you anchored at a small island. Robin, Usopp, Franky, Zoro and you decide to stay in a hotel for at least one night instead of sleeping in the already cramped Polar Tang. Nothing goes as expected, and as nightmares plague your sleep, Zoro can't find it in himself to see you suffer. Will he succeed and turn your nightmares into the sweetest of dreams?

Half of the Straw Hat crew, including you, were aboard the Polar Tang on its way to Wano. When Trafalgar Law commanded to anchor for the night at a small island to get some air and supplies, you finally see your chance to sleep in a comfortable bed. No offense, the makeshift beds in one of the Polar Tang’s storage rooms are better than nothing. But escaping the cramped conditions and having a real bed for just one night was far too tempting for all of you, so the five of you decided to check into a nearby hotel. You waited outside while Robin talked to the receptionist, and once she returned, she handed each of you your key cards.

"They only had three rooms left, which means we have to pair up. I'll share a room with Franky and you could draw straws? Winner gets a room to themselves?" Robin suggested.

"Yeah, sounds fair." You said and Usopp and Zoro nodded. Franky prepared the straws and offered them to you. "Ladies first."

You hesitated for a moment before grabbing your straw. After you'd chosen yours, Zoro and Usopp chose theirs and on the count of three you all pulled your straws up.

"Yes! Finally a peaceful night!" Usopp chimed. He had drawn the shortest straw and won the game.

Zoro accepted the news with a neutral face without showing any emotion and you smiled, seeing Usopp so happy was just precious and you were happy for him. Well, until you remembered that you'd be sharing a room with Zoro. Pirate hunter Zoro, your crush for at least a year. It was only after you were all separated by Kuma that you realized your feelings. You missed everyone, but you missed him more. In a different way. And those first little feelings only intensified when you saw what a man he had become after the two years of separation. He was so much more. More handsome, more strong, more muscular. More of everything.

Unfortunately, he was not the least bit aware of you. So you kept to yourself, dreaming from afar and just being happy to be part of the same crew. You took a few deep breaths and calmed your mind as the five of you went to your rooms. It was just one night, and it's not like you need to cuddle up. The bed is big enough with two blankets and two pillows and you wouldn't even notice him. With a fluid motion, you used your card to open the door and stepped into your room.

Your smile immediately disappeared and all your worries returned. One bed. There was only one bed in the huge ass room. A single-sized bed with just one pillow and one blanket. Your eyelids twitched. Zoro pushed past you as he entered the room, his shoulder brushing yours lightly.

"Don't worry, I'll just sleep on the floor." Zoro said in his usual careless voice and sat down on the floor, right next to the door.

"No... This must be a mistake, they must have mixed up something... I guess Usopp has our room?" You felt nervous. This must be a mistake, this cannot be... You were about to go out the door again and ask Usopp, when Zoro stopped you.

"Don't. He's probably asleep by now. And like I said, I don't mind." He said with a calm voice.

"But I feel really bad being the only one who has the comfort of a bed..." I tried one last time without giving myself away. Was he for real? Even the makeshift beds in the Polar Tang were more comfortable than the floor.

"It's okay, I'm used to it. Just sleep." He said, his eyes already closed as he sat next to the door with his back to the wall and his arms crossed.

You sighed defeated. You knew he was stubborn and had his pride and there was nothing you could do to change his mind. So you went to the bathroom, changed into some more comfortable clothes and went to bed.

"Okay. Night, Zoro." You turned your back to him, getting only a light snore as an answer, and turned off the light, ready to fall asleep. You still felt bad leaving him on the floor, but there was no solution to your problem. There was no bigger bed, no second blanket, no extra pillow. You pushed those thoughts aside. It took a while, but you managed to fall asleep to Zoro's soft, rhythmic breathing.

---

It was in the middle of the night when Zoro sensed that something was wrong. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on his surroundings, letting his haki search the entire hotel when he heard the soft whimper. When he was sure that there was nothing that could be a threat to the crew, he opened his eyes and looked at you. You were shivering and whimpering. Probably a nightmare... He guessed and thought for a moment what to do. He couldn't just walk over and wake you up. His options were limited. A silent 'please....' escaped your curled up form and he sighed. He just couldn't leave you like this.

"Hey..." He spoke at a low volume. "Hey, Y/N."

He waited a moment to see if he was successful, but then you whimpered again.

"Wake up." This time he tried a bit louder, but still softly, because he didn't want to frighten you in any way.

Again he wasn't successful. He groaned and finally stood up. Silently, he placed a chair under the doorknob for extra security. He walked over to you and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, wake up. It's just a nightmare." He tried a third time, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder.

The touch seemed to startle you, because you turned to face him, your hands clawing into his arm.

He took in your pained expression. There was sweat on your forehead and your knuckles were white from how hard you clawed into his skin. In another setting, your grip on him would have brought him to his knees, but right now he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. Cursing under his breath, he turned on the soft light of the lamp on the bedside table and lay down beside you. He scooped your trembling form into his arms. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, he watched as you finally began to calm down. With a gentle movement, he wiped the sweat from your face and laid his head on top of yours, cradling you in his arms, hopefully bringing you the most comfort.

His plan finally seemed to work as your grip on his arm loosened and you stopped shaking. He looked down at you and found a delicate little smile on your lips. All right, it was time for him to get up, but he just couldn't. The way your body felt in his arms, the way your hips pressed against his and how warm you were had him under a spell he couldn't break. He knew he should go, but he was being selfish. Your whole being had fascinated him since you joined the Straw Hats, but he never had the courage to tell you how he felt. He would look like a creep if you woke up now. But the way you felt in his hands when he finally got to hold you like he had dreamed of so many times... His body reacted to yours and his breathing was slightly labored as he looked down at you, just as you opened your eyes. He froze. Shit…

---

When you opened your eyes, you found the reason for the warmth you felt right above you. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were fixed on you with an intense gaze.

"Zoro?" You whispered. When did he join you in bed?

"You had a nightmare. Are you feeling better now?" He asked, his voice an octave lower than usual and his arms not moving. He seemed frozen.

"Yes... thank you..." You replied softly, noticing the way he was holding you, the impressive size of his arms and chest, and even the reaction of his body in his pants. A slight blush made its way to your face and you shifted in his arms. Your attempt to free your body from his hard-on failed miserably and you pressed even harder against him. Zoro hissed through clenched teeth and unfroze.

"...Yeah, I'll take my leave..." Zoro dropped you as if you burned him and sat up, freeing himself from the temptation to make you his in an instant. Your hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he knew that whatever you said next would decide your future.

"Stay..." You asked him softly and heard a slight moan from the greenette. "Please..."

"Do you even know what you are asking of me?" Zoro asked as he turned to you.

The way you looked at him told him all he needed to know. He got back into bed and crawled on top of you. Slowly, gracefully, like a predator. And you were his prey, looking at him wide-eyed and frozen in the heavy anticipation of what was to come. His piercing eyes felt like they were holding you in place and you bit your lip as he looked down at you, his hands beside your head.

It was only a second, but it felt like an eternity. You looked into each other's eyes with burning desire and in the blink of an eye, Zoro quickly pressed his lips to yours, stealing a needy kiss. He wrapped an arm around you and grabbed your side hard as he slipped his tongue past your lips for a much more passionate kiss. And you responded with a passion that nearly knocked him off his feet. All those repressed feelings surfaced and you couldn't get enough of him. It was not enough... not fast enough, not deep enough, too many clothes, too little skin on skin, you wanted more and so did he. Sharing wet kisses as your tongues entwined and tasted each other, you quickly pulled off his shirt and he pulled you into a sitting position to make short work of your clothes.

As soon as he had freed your torso of all clothing, he laid you back down and kissed your neck and collarbone like a desperate man. He was not rough, but eager as he made sure to taste every inch of your skin and memorize your sweet spots. You could only moan from the intensity and your hands made sure to explore every inch of his impressive frame you could reach. You traced every muscle on his large chest and shoulders, making him tremble at your touch. He kissed his way down your body, taking his time at your breasts, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples before sucking on them. His hands remained on your soft chest, kneading it ever so gently as he kissed his way south, leaving a wet trail of his saliva glistening in the dim light of the room.

He pulled on your panties and looked up at you, giving you the choice of continuing or not. You nodded slightly, not trusting your voice, and looked at him with slightly parted lips. He smiled, proud that he had such an effect on you, and quickly removed your panties, leaving you naked in front of him. He took a moment to admire your body as he ran his finger along the trail of saliva before reaching your folds and slowly trailing his fingers down each side of your clit. You let out a small gasp and your eyes widened as you saw Zoro stand up. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed before sitting down in front of it. This took you by surprise and your eyes flickered with curiosity as he smiled mischievously just before burying his face between your thighs.

He licked slowly from your cunt to your clit and a deep growl rumbled in his chest. "So sweet..." He whispered and his hot breath fanned your folds as your taste exploded on his tongue, setting his taste buds on fire. You were already dripping wet and tasted like heaven to him and he wasted no time in devouring you like his last meal. His tongue swirled around your clit before he sucked on it, making you twitch as you let out a soft moan. His eyes were glued to you, noticing every little movement or the way you bit your lips, and your sweet moans were music to his ears. He flicked your knob repeatedly, mercilessly, making you squirm on the mattress. His arms wrapped around your legs, holding your hips in place as his fingers dug into your soft flesh. The spot was sensitive and you gasped. Zoro's mouth worked wonders on you, the constant licking and flicking of his tongue, the frequent sucking with his soft lips, the gentle scratching of his teeth over your sensitive knob. Everything he did brought you closer and closer to the edge and your moans became louder and louder. He loved every single sound you made, every wriggle and when your hands grabbed the sheets in sheer bliss. He wanted to savor this moment as long as possible, but his restrained cock throbbed in his pants and he needed you.

He released your hips with one hand and licked two of his fingers before sliding them through your folds and slowly pushing them inside you. He made sure to stimulate your clit as his fingers explored your insides, caressing your velvety walls until he found the spongy sweet spot inside of you. He drew gentle circles with his fingers and watched as you responded to his movements with a shiver down your spine. You were so close, he could see it in the way you shivered and squirmed. He put his other hand flat on your belly to hold you down as he applied more pressure to the spot inside you. The licking and sucking on your knob increased and you couldn't last much longer. "Zoro!" You moaned as you let go and your orgasm washed over you like a wave. He watched as you trembled and shook, your thighs pressing against his head, holding him in place as he kept going to make sure you rode out your high completely. Ecstasy coursed through your veins, and as his tongue became a painful torment on your clit from the overstimulation, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head away. He let go and immediately pulled his fingers back. As he looked at you, he grinned like a madman who had just tasted heaven, his lower face glistening with your juices. You were panting heavily from the pleasure you had just felt and your cunt still clenched around nothing, feeling the afterglow intensely.

"That was an impressive performance." He smirked and crawled on top of you. His lips captured yours, giving you a taste of your own juices as he kissed you. You hummed, his lips desirous yet gentle, giving you time to cool down after your high before you dive into another round of pleasure. You ran your hands down his sides, feeling every curve of his ribs and muscles until your hands reached his waistband. You palmed the bulge in his pants as Zoro pushed his tongue into your mouth, making the kiss more passionate as he sensed you were ready to go again. Your fingers were quick, opening his pants in no time and freeing his cock. You couldn't see it yet, but you felt it. It was thick and girthy. A prominent vein ran from top to bottom. Its head was massive and the slit at the top leaked pre-cum. You dipped your finger in the sticky fluid and swirled it around his tip, making him growl into your open-mouthed kiss.

He pulled away and stripped off all his clothes, giving you the opportunity to admire his body. You knew his impressive chest from all the times he displayed it openly, but what took your breath away was his waist. The slender, defined part of his torso that only made his chest look even wider. His cock twitched as he noticed your ravenous eyes on him and with steady movements he made his way back on top of you, his muscles beautifully illuminated as they shifted with his movements.

He ran his hand over your curves and you spread your legs to welcome him between your thighs. He grinned, but his eyes looked at you with a gentle expression. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." You whispered softly, ready for him and for this.

He propped himself up with one arm while his other hand aligned his member with your entrance. He rubbed the head over your slick folds a few times before pushing the head inside. Although you had seen and felt it in your hands before, you were still surprised and gasped at the thickness. Zoro kissed your lips tenderly, distracting and relaxing you as he pushed deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. "Shit..." He hissed through gritted teeth as he threw his head back. You were so tight around his length, testing his patience as he wanted nothing more than to rut relentlessly into you. You whimpered as you felt like you were being split in half. Taking deep breaths, you slowly adjusted to his size and finally gave him a sign that it was safe to move.

He started slowly, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls and your warmth around him. "Zoro... mhh..." You moaned as he placed both hands beside you again, picking up the pace and stopping the teasing. His length was so deep inside you, kissing your insides, and you gripped his biceps tightly as the knot in your stomach tightened with each thrust. Your mouth hung open and your breathing was labored, but you had the most mesmerizing view. Your gaze was fixed on the muscles in his chest as they twitched with each thrust, giving you quite a show of that 110cm chest. Zoro went down on his elbows, breaking your view of his chest, and looked deep into your eyes. His angle changed and he was now deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot every time. Sweat formed on his forehead and his earrings jingled as his thrusts became stronger and more intense. You moaned louder, not able to keep it together anymore which earned you a satisfied growl from Zoro, who loved your sounds. Your legs trembled slightly which was a clear sign that you were close to your climax. "Zoro, I'm close..." You whispered between moans and Zoro responded with an open-mouthed kiss before he pushed himself up onto his knees.

He folded your legs against your chest and pulled you back onto his dick as he changed position. You grabbed the sheets for support as you began to tremble underneath him from the way his tip kissed your cervix deep inside you. "Come for me..." He pressed through his clenched teeth, his voice dripping with desire, and you gladly complied. His next thrust pushed you over the edge and the knot in your stomach exploded, making you see stars. You moaned his name as he pounded mercilessly into you, making sure to fuck you through your high. Your walls squeezed him tight and he growled deep as you pushed him over the edge with you. His thrust became sloppier as he shot his seed deep into you, making sure to fill you to the brim. Ecstasy ran through both of you, igniting a feeling of utter satisfaction deep inside you as your climax slowly faded. You were both panting heavily and he collapsed on top of you, making sure not to suffocate you with his weight as your insides and his dick still twitched from the pleasure, but the exhaustion mixed into your systems.

After a moment, he rolled off of you and gently pulled you into his arms, stroking your hair from your sweaty forehead. You snuggled against him and rested your head on his chest, enjoying how his sculptured chest felt like it was made for you. You both enjoyed the afterglow as you shared gentle touches and light kisses. There was no need to speak as your actions spoke louder than any words could have.

But there was one last thing burning in your mind, a fear that he would leave your side when you fell asleep and that this was all just a dream. So before you could fall asleep in his arms, you had to know, and you chose your words carefully.

"Will you stay with me?"

There was no hesitation from Zoro and you could hear a light chuckle rumbling in his chest.

He pressed another affectionate kiss to your temple and wrapped you a little tighter into his arms.

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©Strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 19 - Criminals

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Only when Vhagar settles on the beach, do you notice the crumbling ruins of an old castle, its shattered walls peeking through the trees like a mischievous child.  

People had lived here once, you think, and for a moment, you almost envy them, spending their lives in a place where the forest meets the sand. How strange and beautiful, you’d never seen anything quite like it. But even the beauty of such a place, could not distract from its location.  

How much time had passed since you’d left the party? Surely close to an hour by now, yet here you were, on a beach instead of your chambers. 

“This is not the Red Keep,” you say, anxiety quietly twisting in the pit of your stomach. 

But Aemond laughs, not nearly as concerned as you are on matters such as time or propriety.  

“You have a keen eye, Lady Baratheon,” he says, and his tone is flippant, teasing. 

"Need I remind his grace that he was supposed to be returning me home?”  

“All the way to Storms End? Now that would be quite a ride.” 

You turn to face him, “you're not funny.” 

But he was funny, at least in his opinion, and his cheek twitches with amusement, while his eye widens with feigned innocence, “I'm simply trying to clarify what my lady means by home .” 

“Is that so?” you begin, a little tartly, well, very tartly, “because I’d say you were being a fastidious arse who knows fine well what I mean by home.” 

Any ordinary man might have been aggrieved by such an accusation, but not Aemond. His grin is entirely guilty and fiendishly unapologetic.  

“Fastidious arse ?” he repeats, “that is what you call your prince when you want him to return you home?” 

Your eyes widen, but there’s not enough alarm in the world to douse the fire suddenly burning in your belly, “I will not beg you if that’s what you imagine.” 

“On the contrary, I'm quite content to know that my lady will have me grovelling at her feet for the duration of our marriage.” 

So cocky. Even if you actually wanted to marry him, you wouldn’t do it. 

“Oh?” you say, “and who is this lady that has agreed to be your wife?” 

He purses his lips, and there’s a wicked spark behind his eye, before his hand settles on his thigh, reminding you just how dangerously close you’re sitting to him. “I’m working on it,” he nods to the ropes on Vhagar’s neck, “now climb down so I may continue.” 

“And if I refuse?”  

Aemond’s head tilts, his hands suddenly grasping your hips with far too much enthusiasm, “then I might start believing that my lady would rather stay seated on my lap?”  

“I’m not your lady,” you insist, sliding your fingers around his wrists to pull him away. But he seems to have just as much enthusiasm for the way you're fighting him than he did for touching you. 

He struggles against your grip with a soft breathy chuckle, his efforts not enough to free himself, but enough to make you hold him tighter. Firm and steady, the illusion that you could ever truly hold power over him.  

“Vhagar needs to rest,” he says, as though it explains your stop at the beach, but it only forces you to glare at him. 

“You’re lying.”  

He doesn’t even try to deny it, he only grins wider, testing the strength of your grip again. 

“I’m not going to ask you to take a dip in the water, if that’s what you imagine... unless you want to, of course,” he teases, and why you let him crawl under your skin with such ease, you cannot say. But it seems that's all it takes, to get you to do exactly what he wants.  

Blowing out a breath of frustration, your leg swings over the pommel, and if you weren’t so irritated by him, you might have been more afraid. As it happens, you’re beginning to think you rather prefer Vhagar over her master. At least she doesn't speak, or look so dammed smug. 

This is what you think, as you climb all the way down her long neck with the kind of frenzied confidence only anger can provide, and before you know it, your feet have hit the ground and you don’t wait around. You storm down the beach, away from the tooth and fire end of the dragon, and more importantly, away from Aemond. 

"Will my lady be walking all the way back to Kings Landing?” he calls after you, and you do not slow.  

Maybe you will walk back. Maybe you’ll walk right into Alicent’s chambers and say that her precious son stole you away on dragonback- though she’d probably like that. She may have even been the one to suggest it! And the very thought makes you want to scream, so you do, feeling powerless as you kick up a big clump of sand.  

“If that is your wish, then you are heading in quite the wrong direction,” he calls again, the sound of his voice so much closer than before, and you stop, anger quickly turning into rage. 

“Just when I think that perhaps you might be somewhat tolerable, and that maybe we can actually be friends,” you snap, hair tangling wildly with the wind, as you turn to face him, “you prove yourself to be the most insufferable man that has ever lived!”  

“Are we not to be friends on a beach?” he says, as though your reaction was a surprise to him, though you can see he’s enjoying it either way, and why wouldn’t he? You’re completely at his mercy. 

“Were we friends, you would not trap me here!” you shout over the crash of a wave before crouching down to scoop up a ball of sand, which you promptly throw at him. 

He dodges it, arms spreading wide, “I see no shackles, no prison walls.” 

“Do not press me,” you throw another ball, which he dodges yet again, “or take me for more of a fool than I have already been!” And you were a fool, yet again you were the most foolish girl on the beach. 

It was hard to remember what exactly you had been thinking in agreeing to leave the party with him. Certainly nothing rational. But Aemond didn’t want you rational, he wanted you here, miles from home, with the sea lapping at the shore and the stars your only witness. 

He could keep you here all night, and even if he didn’t lay a single finger on your skin, you would be his, no questions asked. 

“I do not think you a fool,” his voice is soft, coaxing, “I think you’re...” 

“ What ?” 

His lips curl, “the most terrible aim imaginable.” 

You throw a third ball of sand, and as if to prove his point, it misses, and he proceeds to laugh. So, you throw a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth in quick succession. 

“If you actually manage to hit me with the next one, then you have my word that I will take you home this instant,” he baits, knowing you’re just as competitive as he, and you suppose that’s part of the fun, if you could call it fun. You'd rather call it attempted murder with the only weapon you had at hand. 

Crouching down to scoop up a fresh ball, you don’t waste it on a shot that might miss, you charge towards him, and Aemond runs away, clambering up a grouping of large rocks which form a sort of staircase towards the old ruins.

“Craven!” you shout, pursuing him as quickly as you can go, but finding your dress, and Aemond’s cloak, enough to hamper your every step.

You’re panting by the time you make it over the rocks and onto level ground. But you’re not giving up. You’d rather eat this ball of sand than let him win. 

So you edge closer to the thick of trees surrounding the old keep, hoping his hair might give him away in the dark, but he’s vanished, or to put it another way, he’s hiding. 

Returning to the beach and waiting him out would surely be a more sensible strategy. Yet, your patience has already worn too thin for strategy, and you can feel him watching. No doubt wearing that oh so familiar smirk he seems to acquire whenever you feel your blood begin to boil. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” you say, the words more demanding than playful, and the sound only met by the screech of an owl, and the rustle of leaves. 

Still, despite the rush of nerves which shiver along your spine, you keep moving. Creeping towards a watch tower covered in ivy, while the ground below your feet, changes from grass to checkerboard tiles in the places where nature has not quite reclaimed the earth. 

If it wasn’t so dark, you might have found it more enchanting. But with the tree cover filtering the moonlight, and another screech of the owl, your heart begins to thud. 

This was yet more madness. There could be wolves or boars or bears lurking in this place, and you have to dare yourself to keep going, deciding to never speak with Aemond again if he jumps out and startles you.  

But it's a whistle which catches your attention, and you spin around, looking up to see him standing on the second floor of the tower.   

“How did you get up there?” you demand, moving to where the stairs have caved in, leaving only two steps to bring you closer to him, and both of them slippery with moss. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he taunts, walking to the edge of the floor before crouching down. 

“Do your worst,” he dares, and if he stays still, you’re feeling quietly confident with your chances as you take the time to roll the sand between your hands, fashioning it into a perfect sphere. 

Then you arch your arm back, and launch the ball as hard as you can, before watching the way it soars through the air, fast and sure, but too heavy, too flimsy. Aemond doesn’t even bother to flinch as it collides with the floor, eliciting yet more laughter. 

“This is why I hate you, you know!” you say, wiping your sand coated hands onto the soft folds of his cloak, and finding at least some pleasure in that. 

Still laughing at you, Aemond scrambles down from the tower with relative ease, before stalking closer, slowly , as though it's you who’s the most dangerous creature in these woods.  

“You don’t hate me,” he decides, “you just hate losing.” 

“I can hate two things at once, and I only lost because you ,” you point your finger at him, “had the advantage.” 

“What advantage?”

“Well, for starters, you’re wearing boots, not these,” you hitch up your skirt and kick out your foot to show your shoes, dainty and made for dancing, “nor do you have to wear a gown. I should very much like to see how you’d fare if you had to scale a tower without any trousers on-” 

Just as the words leave your lips, you hear them, “I mean , you know what I mean.” 

With his laughter simmered to a soft chuckle, he lets your blunder stew in the air before inching closer. 

“Then perhaps I should remind my Lady Baratheon that she has two eyes, and the aim of a blind woman.” 

You scoff, taking full offence even if he is right, “and I suppose you're an authority on throwing balls of sand?” 

“I’d say that hardly matters anymore, and now you’re obliged to stay until I say we leave.” 

It was strange, but you’d somehow forgotten the reason you'd been chasing him in the first place, and anxiety quickly returns to the pit of your stomach. “And if someone notices I’m gone?” 

“It’s still early. They'll be drinking and dancing for quite some time I should imagine.” 

Deep down, you knew he was right, but there was always a chance, even if it was a small one, that one of your family would retire before the party was finished, then what? “That’s easy for you to say, you’re a prince, you can do as you please.” 

“Don’t worry,” Aemond promises, his voice serious even if his eye betrays him, “if my lady's virtue was to come into question, then you can be assured I would do the honourable thing and marry her.”  

“The honourable thing?” you repeat with a sharp laugh, “a punishment far worse than the accusation, I’m sure!”  

He moves closer, the toe of his boot grazing against the hem of your gown, “but not the crime?”  

You try to laugh, but really, it wasn’t hard to imagine such crimes as letting him kiss you, or the way you might fall together on the soft mossy ground. In fact, it was all too easy. 

“We are not speaking of this,” you whisper, though you hadn’t meant for your voice to lose all strength, or your body to lose all resistance, when his hands bunch into your cloak. No, his cloak. His smell.  

“Only thinking it,” he suggests, fingers curling tighter, reeling you in, “I must admit, I seem to think of little else.”    

You can’t look him in the eye, if you do, you might say something crazy like ‘so do I.’ Instead, you say, “then his grace needs better hobbies to occupy his time.” 

Aemond snorts, “perhaps you could teach me to embroider, that would certainly take up some time.” 

Trying to act more annoyed than you feel, you attempt to wrench the cloak from his grip, “perhaps lessons in manners would be better suited?” 

“Oh, I’d say it's far too late for that, wouldn’t you?”  

And he does let go of the cloak, but only so his hands can slide to cup your cheeks, and force you to look at him.  

“It’s never too late...” your words trail off, evaporating into the crisp night air. In fact, the whole forest seems to have fallen silent, perhaps the whole world, and you know you can pull away from him. But your heart is pounding, and there is something dangerous, something wanton, curling in your veins.   

Perhaps Aemond feels it too, perhaps he notices the way your breathing has slowed, just as you notice the way he’s looking at you, so tenderly- 

“Do you think Vhagar supposes where we have gotten to?” you blurt, and his eye brightens in surprise, as you tear yourself from his hands, before quickly turning towards the beach. 

Though your swift exit is certainly hampered by the rocks, which seem even more difficult to descend than they had been to climb. You almost fall down them, before Aemond overtakes you, his hands catching your waist to stop your escape. 

Or perhaps he’s just trying to stop you from breaking your neck. Either way, you can’t help but be reminded of the last time you’d been running away from him at the beach. 

The sound of the waves had been just the same, and your heart had been beating just as quickly, but your reasoning had been different. He'd been a stranger then, now he was the opposite, too familiar.  

“Perhaps it would be best to return to the party,” you say, as though returning to the party was not the least of what you wanted to do.  

“Why?” he almost laughs, “ so you can dance with Lucerys Velaryon?” 

You’d forgotten all about Luke and his half-hearted offer of a dance, but Aemond hadn’t, couldn’t , and even though his tone was light, there was quiet fury in his eye. Fury which could be abated so easily, except you didn’t want that, you wanted to turn the tide of conversation. Needing to shift it from a place where you might easily fall into his arms.  

“Why do you hate him so?” you say, even if you’re almost certain you know the answer. 

“You know why.”  

“I know rumours.” You’d heard a dozen since arriving in Kings Landing, but you’d often wondered at the truth, Aemond’s truth, even if it didn’t feel like your place to know.  

“Of the night I came to lose my eye?” he says, and hearing it said like that, you realise this was a stupid, awful , thing to bring up.  

“I shouldn’t have asked you that, I’m so sorry.” 

“Why ?” his head tilts, “you think me ashamed of the way I look?” 

“I...” you stutter, “didn't say that. I don’t-” 

He scoffs, “everyone pretends they cannot see my eye, when for most people, it’s the only thing they ever look at.”  

"It’s not the only thing I see,” you say, and you’re not sure why it's so important for him to know this. You were supposed to be hating him after all, but you can’t stand to think he’d ever imagine you don’t see him. All of him.   

He doesn’t say anything, and his attention turns towards the sea, his hands no longer interested in your company, and you can sense the old wound, still fresh and sore, as though it had happened only yesterday.  

Now it was you who felt like the most repugnant person in the world, and you hate yourself for the way his shoulders have stiffened, the breeze feeling so much cooler than before. Because no matter how you might have felt about Aemond Targaryen, you were sure you never wanted to hurt him. 

"Aemond ,” you reach for him, your hand finding purchase on his arm, and his muscles tense beneath the leather. Perhaps you shouldn’t notice such a thing at a time like this, but you can feel his strength, feel how he could break you apart if he really wanted to.  

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you say softly, wanting to bring him back from whatever dark place you’d sent him. But it's too late. 

He stares at the way your hand is touching him, before his eye slowly scrapes to meet with yours.   

“I was ten when I saw Vhagar on the beach,” he begins, his voice small, raw, and hearing him like this, somehow feels more intimate than any of the times he’d held you in his arms. 

“You were so young,” you say, picturing the white-haired boy, who’d dared to face the largest dragon in the world.  

“Not for a Targaryen,” he swallows, his words garnering more control, “you can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up in this family without a dragon, even the bastards had them. So, when I saw her, all alone, it was like she was waiting for me, while the rest of the world looked the other way.”   

You glance at her, sleeping peacefully on the brow of a hill, but still so fierce, so terrifying.  

“At the risk of giving you another compliment,” you say, trying to lighten the mood you have created. “I cannot believe you had the courage to tame her.”  

“You never tame a dragon.”  

You frown, uncertain, “but she is yours, is she not?”  

“It's a bond, one that will last a lifetime. And I don’t know if it was courage, so much as desire...” he steps up, so he’s standing on the same rock as you. Then his eye crinkles with the beginnings of a smile, or perhaps it's just pride for the boy he was that night. “The first few minutes of the flight almost killed me. But I clung to her so tightly, and then we were flying as one, and I knew she was mine.”  

You both turn to her now, and she snorts as though she’s listening. Perhaps she is. Perhaps her eyes are closed but her ears are open. 

“When we landed,” he continues, and together you settle down on the edge of a rock, knee pressed against knee, “I was so excited and... perhaps a little too proud, I could hardly wait to tell everyone of my triumph. But my nephews were already waiting for me, with Rhaena and Baela, and they already knew what I had done.”  

“What you had done ? You make it sound as though bonding with her was a bad thing?”  

He tilts his head, looking at you strangely, quizzically , “Rhaena wanted Vhagar for herself.”  

“But ... she chose you .”  

“And so we fought.”  

“You fought all four of them?”  

When his eye narrows into a pointed look, you cannot help but laugh, “of course you did.” This was Aemond, a child who’d mounted the largest dragon in the world, he wasn’t about to run from anything or anyone.  

“Hand to hand at first, and naturally ,” he shrugs, “none of them were any match for the hours I’d spent in the training yard. But even so, I was only one boy against four, and they just kept coming.” 

“After a while, I picked up a rock, I just wanted to frighten them,” he holds out his hand, his fingers curling at the ends, as though he can remember the very shape and weight of it, “but Jace drew his sword, just a little thing, a needle really.”  

He looks at you, and your stomach tightens, afraid of what he’s going to say next. 

“He tried to swing at me, but I was taller and faster, so I knocked him down, and the sword fell away. I thought if I just kept hold of the rock, then surely they would run. It was already over, you see? Vhagar was already mine. And I’d bested them, they knew that.”  

Suddenly his hand tightens into a fist, and you imagine the rock crumbling into dust, before he wipes his palm along his thigh as though he cannot even stand to touch the memory of it. 

Then he laughs sadly, “but my nephews and I have never held any love for each other. So, when Jace saw an opportunity to throw dirt in my eyes, Luke picked up the sword, and -" 

His hand reaches towards your face so quickly you startle. But his touch is not pain or blood, it's a slow caress across your eye, sealing it shut. Yet only for a moment, instead of forever.  

“An eye for a dragon is a fair exchange,” he shrugs, but the words feel too well practiced; the hurt pushed away as though its nothing more than a speck of dust.  

Yet it was so much more, and you have to swallow the swell of tears which has caught at the back of your throat, as you think of that little boy, so proud, so excited, then broken .  

“No ,” you say, your voice strained, “what they did to you wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair.”  

The way he looks at you, almost surprised, makes your heart ache all over again. And if he was one of your sisters, you would wrap him in your arms, and hold him so tightly he'd have to fight to break free. But doing so, would cross a line you were trying desperately to avoid. 

“You know, the strange thing is, I don’t even hate them for taking my eye. We were children, and the fight was far out of hand, but they never apologised. Even now, they laugh about it, like it was a joke, like it meant nothing .” 

You hadn’t wanted to cry, but your eyes are too full, and a tear dares to break free, rolling lazily down your cheek, before its silvery trail is interrupted by the brush of Aemond’s thumb.  

“Lady Baratheon... don’t tell me you’re crying for the most repugnant man in the world?”  

Sniffling, you force a laugh before wiping the back of your hand across your eyes. “ I'm not .” 

“You know, now that I think of it,” his voice is lighter, his eye more playful, “it seems I have a habit of finding all the best things waiting for me on beaches.” 

You roll your eyes, before finding a length of cloak not sullied by the sand to pat your cheeks dry, "I’m not a dragon.”  

“Not yet .”  

The way he says that last word, so certain, you almost believe him, and force another laugh to hide any other emotion which might slip onto your face. Because sitting and talking with him like this was far too easy and far too comfortable.  

“Speaking of which,” he continues, “since my many charms have yet to convince you to stay in Kings Landing, does that mean I am to invite myself to suffer a winter in the Stormlands? Or will you be so kind as to bestow me an invitation yourself?” 

“Suffer?” you repeat with mock surprise, “I happen to like the stormy weather; I think it very beautiful.” And cosy, there was nothing better than a warm bed and a raging storm to pound against the walls.  

He brushes your hair from your shoulder, his eye tracing your face, “I’m growing rather a taste for storms myself.” 

“You should think me tame if you ever flew through a storm over Winter Solstice.” 

“That I refuse to believe,” he says, close enough that even a whisper is easily heard over the waves, and leaving you to wonder why every moment, seemed to shift into a moment which felt like he might just lean in and kiss you.  

“Well ,” you stand, pulling yourself from his gentle touches, “thanks to your mother, and this gown,” you gesture along the green silk beneath your cloak, “we are not leaving tomorrow after all.”   

Aemond’s eye widens, the blue so much brighter than before, “you’re staying?” 

“Only so we can entertain Tyland Lannister.” 

His jaw ticks, “Tyland Lannister?”  

“It's just tea ,” you add, thinking Tyland might not have been your favourite person, but he wasn’t bad, and you hardly wanted him to suffer over tea and cake.  

But Aemond doesn’t seem so convinced, and his laughter is almost a growl as he stands, and begins to climb back down the rocks, before turning to offer you his hand, “then we should leave at once, I wouldn’t want my lady to miss an afternoon in the company of another man.” 

“I’m not your lady,” you remind him, climbing down haphazardly without his assistance, “and if you must know, it was my mother who invited him.” 

“Your mother?” he ponders this information as you walk back towards Vhagar side by side, “then we shall have to remedy that .” 

Alarmed, you stare at him, trying to read his expression, but his face shows no tells. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” you say. 

His lips quirk and he has no intention of telling you. Instead, he mounts Vhagar with the same swiftness he’d used in the dragon pit, leaving you to wonder. 

Then again, you don’t wonder for too long, because all too quickly, you begin to remember that you weren’t supposed to be on a beach with Aemond in the first place.  

Then you’re only wondering one thing; if it's late enough for you to be caught. 

~~~

Thank you for reading!

[the-fiction-witch]

Morning Maid

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty af

I hurried myself through the hospital corridors and stairwells finally finding myself at the second-floor room not bothering to knock, I never did and he never made me. Plus my hands where littered with the various items I would be needing this morning. I went inside shutting the door behind me and scampering inside the little room.

I set fresh towels and his clean laundry on the table close to the wardrobe, set his breakfast by the stove ready to cook in a moment, and I set his sheets next to his bedpost given his body still laid in his bed.

The room dark, his fluffy hair only just poking out the covers.

I brushed off my hands and set the stove to begin warming as I went to the window pulling open the curtains to let in the sweet morning sun.

"Ughurhmmm-" Mumbled from the bed with a shift and a wiggle he turned away to face the wall so the light bothered him less

"Dr Dawkins?" I cooed sweetly "Dr Dawkins?" I cooed a little louder but neither even garnered a response, So I went to the wardrobe put his clean clothes away and got him out some fresh ones for the day ahead, I poured him a fresh glass of water that I sat on his bedside table taking the one I poured last night away now empty of course. And I grabbed his coat from the door taking my duster and giving it a firm few wacks to knock the dirt out much as one does a old rug. "Dr Dawkins?" I called again a slight song to my voice "Dr Dawkins!" I called again but still no response came so I carried on taking yesterdays laundry to the door to take with me, making sure things where dusted and organized returning his book to its place, "Dr Dawkins!" I called loud enough it echoed in the room "Dr Dawkins!" I called and by some miracle! he rolled over back to face the room letting the sheets linger at his waist skin dewy from the heat

Well. He's alive I suppose.

I sighed and opened the window and leaning my arms on his metal bedframe,

"Dr Dawkins" I called

Nothing.

"Doctor there is an urgent emergency" I said

Nothing.

"Doctor the hospital is on fire!"

I think his nose twitched.... maybe.

"Doctor Dawkins a large huntsman spider is crawling up your leg."

he let out a breath

Holy shit he breathed!

"This is why no one else signs up for you in the morning you know. I'm the only one who wouldn't have bashed you over the head with a frying pan by now" I chuckled "Dr Dawkins a lady is here to see you and she says she's pregnant"

He wiggled! a little mostly just shifting himself a little

"Okay... Jack there's a gangster here about a poker debt!" I yelled

I mean.. he stirred. a little bit.

I rolled my eyes and got his toast setting his breakfast on the table looking at his sleeping body a moment trying to think of a way to do this that didn't involve a frying pan or ice cold water...

"Dr Dawkins a lady is here to see you and she says she's pregnant"

nothing. dead as the bodies downstairs, and then it occurred to me

"Alright, I guess Dr Dawkins really is sleeping soundly." I smiled "I suppose then he won't mind I take the air out of his nice second-floor window, as it is so very hot today" I giggled leaning on the bedpost again "Umm it's so hot I think I may remove my dress."

And the moment! the goddamn second! I uttered that word his eye flicked open

"Jack!" I yelled making him jump as he clearly wasn't expecting me to be leant on his bedpost

"You lied." he pouted sitting up and leaning against the wall

"I didn't lie. I simply failed to tell the truth."

"That's lying. By definition." he said "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Ohh you know always wanted to see the sights around the hospital" I joked "What do you think I'm doing here, waking you, you dunderhead." I laughed going to start on his breakfast first making some toast as it was the easiest and he liked it the coldest

"I do not require waking." he said "Flip the toast," he said

so I did so "Don't you? Because we both know if I hadn't you'd still be in that bed at the lords hour of half past four you had it your way"

"it's my day off."

"Your a doctor you don't get days off." I laughed putting the toast on the plate and grabbing an egg I brought with me "Sunny, over, scrambled, how'd you fancy them this morning?"

"I'm on call then" He answered "scrambled please but make them-"

"Dry as a bone. I know Jack." I giggled "You planning on getting out the bed at some point I have to take the sheets down to the laundry."

"After breakfast"

"Alright" I rolled my eyes playfully adding his eggs to his plate "You know none of the other girls will come up here."

"Am I truly that terrifying?" He joked having some water

"No. they simply find your... suggestions passive-aggressive and annoying" I explain

"my suggestions?"

"You're nitpicking Jack" I laughed getting the marmalade from my things and spreading it thin over his toast making sure to keep it separate from the eggs

"Nitpicking? That what they're calling it now." He laughed "And it doesn't bother you?"

"No, you like things a particular way nothing wrong with that. I have simply learnt your way. as it is your way or the highway as it were" I laughed taking it over sitting on his bed with him to hand over the plate which he grimaced at

"I wanted jam."

"Well, you have marmalade."

"Why?"

"Because I brought Marmalade. and no Jack I am not going all the way back down to the hospital kitchens to see if they have any jam. You get marmalade."

"No bacon?"

"We're out of bacon so you got extra toast"

"Did he. get the last of the bacon?"

"No, Marybell tried to take it to him, I told her it's not fair when we only have four rashers of bacon to give all four to one doctor and one to the others we argued, we fought and I ate the bacon. that solved the problem" I smiled giving his plate a gentle inviting shimmy

"Still missing something aren't we?"

I rolled my eyes a moment but gave him a sweet kiss which he happily pulled me closer into before taking his breakfast

"Thank you y/n"

"You're welcome you little wombat"

"Aww thank you" he smiled

"That was an insult Jack" I laughed

"Is it? you love wombats?"

"... be quiet and eat your toast," I told him to get up to clean and tidy up

"has it crossed your mind none of the other girls want to come work up her because they know it's your job"

"That's possible. Sure does seem like I've become your bloody maid" I sighed "Still I'd rather be here dealing with your nitpicking than cleaning up the head surgeons' drunken escapades or dealing with your colleague's slaps on the arse."

"So my slaps on the arse are better then?" He chuckled setting his plate on the side

"You're certainly gentler Jack" I laughed "Last time I was in there with him I swear he was trying to hump me every time I bent over"

"See I'm much easier, I'm considerate I save all our humping for dinner time."

"Only because your too tried to do it in the morning" I laughed giving him another kiss and all but kicking him out the bed so I could change his sheets "If you could find the energy we both know you would."

"... Possibly" he shrugs stretching and yawning as he wondered across to his wardrobe in only his underwear "I like after dinner, puts me right to sleep"

"Like you need any help in that department. Often times I'm half tempted to call one of the porters up to cart your body out convinced you've kicked it.”

“You are in a very grumpy mood today” he said as he dressed

“oh? Something I should find chipper and enfrawling about stripping your bed off?” I asked

“Your usually pretty excited about stripping me” he smirked as he snapped on his suspenders and I only glared back “ooohh… very grumpy girl today”

“Maybe I should go visit the other doctor” I joked

“Noo” he whines as he came behind me and wrapped his arms around me softly and gently “absolutely not I won't allow it”

“Oh why not?’ I giggled starting to make his bed with his fresh sheets

For a moment there was silence but he nuzzled close “your my girl.” He cooed and I couldn't help but smile it wasn't what he said but how he said it, so softly and kindly, so sweet and gently, not saying it in a possessive sort of way like he owned me like I belonged to him but that I was his and its so sweet that even something so shall as doing this routine for the other doctor would utterly not be allowed. “Besides we both know I can't sleep without you anymore” he smiled

“You where getting along just fine this morning?”

“Because your been cuddling me all night, It was residual sleep from the last night when you were here” he said turning me to Face him

“Umm I see, nothing to do with the French postcards you've been hiding under your mattress.”

Immediately colour drained from his face

“H- how do you know about that?’

“I make your bed. And clean your room. Just accept you don't have any secrets from me jack. And if you think you do. You don't.” I giggled

“You don't know all my secrets’ he smirked tugging me a little closer

“try me.”

“Go on then what secrets am I keeping?”

“The naughty french postcards your ‘hiding’ under your bed, the stash of toffees you have hidden inside your hollowed out poetry book, the pair of underwear you have hidden away because they are lucky for some reason, that time you kept a baby kolar in your room to you hid it from me, you didn't I knew I just didn't want to ask i assumed you were going through something” I explained and his eyes went wide

“Hu.”

“Shall I go on about how you sometimes sit backwards in the toilet for fun or the fact every time you have a bath you sing a little song”

“I really can't hide anything from you can I?’

“Nope” I giggled nuzzling into his shirt and he happily tightened his arms around me kissing my head “yes”

“What?”

“I also know about the ring you've been hiding in the store room the last six months.”

“Damn it. I really thought I hid that, so … is that a yes?”

“Yes. But it needs resizing slightly its a little big.” I smiled continuing will the bed

“you tried it on?”

“Several times. I get really bored around here sometimes” I shrug, he smiled and pulled me into a sweet loving kiss

“So, as I'm only a on call today? Shall we perhaps celebrate?’ he suggested glancing at the bed

“Jack, you couldn't have suggested that before I changed the bed. It's clean. And immediately you want to make it messy again”

“I'll change it again after if my lady wants me too”

“No, later I need to get this stuff down to laundry” I told him going and grabbing the laundry but before I even reached the door “ahhh! Jack put me down!” I whined as he picked me up and tossed me on his bed

“Laundry can wait” he smirked stroking my chin “I cannot.’ 

[novaursa]

Flames in the West (a marriage and a lannister)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Pairing: trag!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: a sad lion

- Next part: a proud lion

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The courtyard of the Red Keep was a whirlwind of banners, fine carriages, and knights in gleaming armor. At the center of it all stood Lord Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who was charged with the unenviable task of greeting each arrival. His sharp eyes scanned the line of approaching carriages with the efficiency of a man accustomed to tedious obligations.

But even Otto wasn’t prepared for the arrival of House Lannister.

The first sign of their approach was the resounding blast of horns. Not one or two, but at least a dozen golden trumpets heralded their entrance, echoing across the courtyard and turning heads in every direction.

“Oh, gods,” Otto muttered under his breath, already suspecting who was responsible for the fanfare.

Moments later, the gilded Lannister carriage rolled into view, its wheels polished to a blinding shine and pulled by a team of pristine white horses adorned with crimson plumes. The Lannister sigil—an enormous roaring lion—was emblazoned on the doors, glinting in the sunlight as though to declare its superiority over every other house present.

Jason Lannister, naturally, was the first to emerge, stepping out with the practiced ease of a man who knew he looked good. His attire was a masterpiece of crimson and gold embroidery, and his golden hair practically sparkled under the midday sun. He turned to offer his hand to you, his wife, who accepted it with a regal grace that belied your amusement at the spectacle.

You descended from the carriage in a gown that shimmered like molten silver, embroidered with subtle accents of red and gold to signify both your Targaryen and Lannister heritage. Your silver hair was artfully arranged, and the faintest smirk tugged at your lips as you caught the subtle twitch of Otto Hightower’s jaw.

Behind you, a retinue of Lannister knights dismounted in perfect unison, their crimson cloaks billowing dramatically in the breeze. Servants scurried to unload chests of gifts while the horns sounded again, as though the first round hadn’t made enough of an impression.

“Lord Jason,” Otto said as he stepped forward, his tone polite but clipped. “Princess Y/N. Welcome to King’s Landing.”

Jason grinned, bowing slightly but with enough flair to make it clear he thought himself an equal to the Hand. “Lord Otto! A pleasure to be here. I trust our arrival wasn’t too… overwhelming?”

Otto’s eyes flicked to the trumpeters, still lingering nearby as though waiting for another cue. “It was certainly… memorable.”

Jason beamed. “Good. That was the intent.”

Otto turned his attention to you, inclining his head. “Princess. It’s an honor to welcome you back to the Red Keep.”

“Thank you, Lord Otto,” you replied, your voice calm and measured. “It’s good to see the capital again.”

“And to bring a lion with you,” Otto added, glancing pointedly at Jason.

“Ah, but not just any lion,” Jason interjected, stepping closer with his characteristic charm. “A lion with a dragon by his side. Surely a sight to behold, wouldn’t you agree?”

Otto’s smile tightened, though his tone remained diplomatic. “It is… certainly unique.”

Behind you, Martyn Lannister leaned toward one of the knights, muttering, “Unique? That’s the kindest way to describe this circus.”

Jason, oblivious to the quieter commentary, turned to the growing crowd of onlookers. “A fine gathering of lords and ladies! I must say, the Red Keep has outdone itself. Though,” he added, glancing around theatrically, “it could use a touch of something more.”

You elbowed him lightly, your smirk widening. “Behave, Jason.”

He grinned, leaning closer to murmur, “Never.”

As Otto led you and Jason toward the entrance of the Red Keep, Jason couldn’t resist continuing his commentary.

“I must say, Lord Otto,” Jason began, gesturing around the courtyard, “the arrangements are splendid. Though I do hope the feast matches the grandeur of our arrival.”

Otto shot him a sidelong glance. “I’m sure it will meet your expectations, Lord Jason.”

“I’m sure it will, too,” Jason replied breezily. “After all, nothing but the best for my dear sister-in-law.”

You shook your head, though you couldn’t entirely hide your amusement. “Jason, must you antagonize everyone we meet?”

“It’s not antagonizing,” Jason said with a grin. “It’s making an impression.”

“And what impression do you think you’ve made on Lord Otto?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jason tilted his head, pretending to think. “That House Lannister knows how to arrive in style.”

Martyn, who had caught up to you by now, chuckled. “And here I thought the lions were the loudest thing about this family.”

As the Lannister retinue finally moved inside the Red Keep, whispers and laughter rippled through the crowd left behind.

“Did you see the carriage?” one lady murmured to her companion. “It looked like it belonged in a legend.”

“And the trumpets,” another said, giggling. “I half-expected a bard to jump out and sing his praises.”

Otto, still in the courtyard and watching the Lannisters disappear into the castle, let out a long sigh. “Why do the gods test me so?”

One of the stewards beside him coughed. “Perhaps because you always rise to the occasion, my lord.”

Otto shot him a withering look. “Or because they enjoy seeing me suffer.”

Back inside, Jason walked beside you with a swagger that bordered on absurd, whispering, “We’ll be the talk of the wedding. Just you wait.”

You shook your head, though your smirk hadn’t entirely faded. “We already are, Jason. For better or worse.”

“Better,” Jason declared confidently, his self-assured grin firmly in place. “Always better.”

The Lannisters had been shown to their chambers in the Red Keep, a sprawling series of interconnected rooms overlooking the Blackwater Bay. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, glinting off the crimson-and-gold banners the servants had hastily hung to make the family feel more at home. Jason, ever the gracious lord, immediately began inspecting the accommodations as though he were the one hosting.

“These chambers will do,” Jason declared, running a hand over the polished oak table. “Though I must say, a few more lion sigils wouldn’t hurt.”

Behind him, Tyland Lannister entered the room, his measured steps and sharp gaze a stark contrast to Jason’s dramatic flair. He carried an air of cool amusement, as though he had been expecting this exact scene to unfold.

“Jason,” Tyland said, his voice dry, “must you always critique the Red Keep as though you own it?”

Jason turned, grinning. “I’m not critiquing. I’m offering suggestions. It’s called improving the ambiance.”

“Improving,” Tyland echoed, setting down a satchel with a pointed glance at the lavish furnishings. “The royal palace. Of course.”

Meanwhile, you were busy adjusting your cloak, preparing to leave the chamber. Jason caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and immediately turned his attention to you.

“Where are you going?” he asked, stepping closer.

“To greet my sister,” you replied, smoothing the fabric over your shoulder. “I’d like to see her before the festivities begin.”

Jason frowned slightly. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” you said firmly, though there was a faint smile on your lips. “You’ll only cause a scene. Stay here and make sure Tyland doesn’t redecorate in your absence.”

Jason sighed dramatically, but Tyland chuckled. “Don’t worry, my lady,” he said, inclining his head. “I’ll keep him in check.”

You gave Tyland an approving nod before glancing back at Jason. “Try not to antagonize everyone you meet.”

Jason placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “When have I ever done that?”

“Every day since I’ve known you,” you said without missing a beat, earning a laugh from Tyland as you swept out of the room.

As the door closed behind you, Jason turned to Tyland, gesturing grandly at the room. “So, what do you think? A bit drab, but we can work with it.”

Tyland ignored the question, settling into one of the plush chairs by the hearth. “Never mind the drapes, Jason. How did the trip go? I’d imagine a pregnant wife doesn’t make for the easiest traveling companion.”

Jason’s expression shifted immediately, softening into something resembling concern. “She handled it well,” he said, though his tone betrayed a hint of lingering worry. “I made sure she was comfortable the entire way.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Comfortable? You, the man who insisted on a carriage gilded in gold and a parade of trumpets to announce your arrival?”

“That was for us,” Jason said defensively, crossing his arms. “For her, I made sure we stopped frequently, kept the best blankets, and even sent riders ahead to arrange the finest accommodations.”

Tyland smirked. “And let me guess—she found all of that unnecessary.”

Jason sighed, sinking into the chair opposite his brother. “She’s impossible to please sometimes. She even complained about the carriage.”

“What about the carriage?” Tyland asked, genuinely curious.

“She said it was too shiny,” Jason said, throwing up his hands. “Too shiny! Who complains about that?”

Tyland chuckled, shaking his head. “Your wife is a Targaryen, Jason. She rides a dragon. Do you think she cares about shiny carriages?”

Jason huffed, leaning back. “I was just trying to make her comfortable.”

“And yet, she still made it here without strangling you,” Tyland quipped. “That’s an accomplishment.”

Jason shot him a look, though there was no real malice in it. “She appreciates my efforts. Deep down.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Tyland said, his tone light with amusement. “And I’m sure she also appreciates how you hovered over her like a worried septa.”

“I did not hover,” Jason protested, though his tone lacked conviction.

“You absolutely hovered,” Tyland said with a grin. “I can already see it—you fretting over every bump in the road, asking her if she’s comfortable every five minutes.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. “Alright, maybe I hovered a little,” he admitted, running a hand through his golden hair. “But can you blame me? She’s carrying my child, Tyland. I just want her to be safe.”

Tyland’s grin softened into something closer to a smile. “It’s good to see you taking this seriously, Jason. Even if you’re doing it in the most Lannister way possible.”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Well, she deserves the best. And I’ll make sure she gets it—even if she insists on teasing me the entire time.”

Tyland raised his goblet in a mock toast. “To the lion and his dragon. May you survive each other.”

Jason clinked his goblet against his brother’s, his grin returning. “Survive? Tyland, we thrive.”

Servants darted between chambers, arms laden with silks, flowers, and enough candles to light up the Seven Kingdoms. But your focus was singular as you made your way to your sister’s chambers, one hand on your swollen belly as the weight of your pregnancy reminded you with every step.

When you reached the familiar door to Rhaenyra’s rooms, the guards opened it without question, and you stepped inside to find your sister standing near the window. The light streamed in, catching the silver in her hair, which cascaded over her gown.

At the sound of your footsteps, Rhaenyra turned, her face breaking into a radiant smile. “Y/N!” she exclaimed, crossing the room in a few quick strides to pull you into an embrace.

You returned the hug as best as you could, given your condition, before stepping back with a faint sigh of relief. “It’s good to see you, Rhaenyra.”

“And you,” she replied, her gaze immediately dropping to your belly. Her expression shifted from joy to mock alarm as she tilted her head. “Gods, Y/N, you look like you’re about to explode!”

Your eyes narrowed, though there was a faint twitch of a smile on your lips. “Charming as ever, I see.”

“I’m serious,” Rhaenyra said, circling you with the keen eye of someone inspecting a warhorse. “How are you even standing upright? That poor carriage must have creaked all the way from Casterly Rock.”

You sighed, lowering yourself into a chair by the fire. “The carriage was fine, thank you. Jason, on the other hand, was insufferable.”

Rhaenyra smirked, taking the chair opposite you. “Oh, I can imagine. Let me guess—he stopped every hour to make sure you were comfortable?”

“Every half-hour,” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “And that’s not counting the times he insisted on rearranging the cushions or interrogating the servants about the road conditions.”

Rhaenyra burst into laughter, shaking her head. “I can see it now—Jason hovering over you like a fretful old septa. Poor man probably aged a decade on the journey.”

“Poor man?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the one who had to listen to him. Every bump in the road, every creak of the wheels, he’d ask, ‘Are you alright, my love? Is the baby alright?’ By the time we arrived, I was ready to throw him out of the carriage.”

Rhaenyra’s laughter grew louder, and she leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach. “You’ve married a lion, Y/N, but he sounds more like a worried lapdog.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “He means well. But by the gods, if he brings me one more blanket I didn’t ask for, I might actually breathe fire.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And how are you managing being surrounded by his family? I can only imagine what it’s like with a castle full of Lannisters.”

“Imagine a room full of golden-haired jesters who think everything Jason does is a stroke of genius,” you replied dryly. “Even when it’s not.”

“That sounds… exhausting,” Rhaenyra said, smirking. “But at least you’re here now. And we’ve both got weddings to deal with.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Yes, but only one of us has to fit into a gown for the occasion.”

Rhaenyra’s laughter echoed through the room again, and she reached across to squeeze your hand. “You’ve always had the sharpest tongue. I’ve missed this.”

“So have I,” you admitted softly, squeezing her hand in return. “But let’s not make a habit of reminding me how large I’ve grown, shall we?”

Rhaenyra grinned. “No promises. After all, what are sisters for?”

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was a spectacle of light and sound, the flickering glow of thousands of candles reflecting off silver plates and goblets. The tables were piled high with roasted meats, exotic fruits, and delicacies from across the realm, while minstrels filled the air with lively tunes. Laughter and chatter echoed as lords and ladies from every corner of Westeros celebrated the union of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Jason Lannister, of course, had found his way to the heart of the festivities. He stood by your side, his scarlet doublet catching the light as he scanned the royal table with a grin that could rival the brightest sun. You, meanwhile, stood with a slightly weary expression, one hand resting on your swollen belly as Jason prepared for his grand approach.

“Come, Y/N,” Jason said, gesturing toward the head table where King Viserys sat beside Rhaenyra. “Let’s go congratulate your sister. And, of course, remind everyone that I’m part of the royal family now.”

You rolled your eyes, though there was a faint smirk on your lips. “Do you always have to make everything about you?”

Jason grinned, offering you his arm. “Not everything. Just most things.”

With a resigned sigh, you took his arm, and the two of you made your way toward the royal table. Heads turned as you passed, whispers trailing in your wake about the golden couple of Casterly Rock—though whether those whispers were admiring or exasperated was anyone’s guess.

“Ah, my daughters!” King Viserys exclaimed as he spotted the two of you approaching. His face lit up with genuine joy, and he rose from his seat, arms outstretched. “Come here, both of you!”

You smiled warmly, stepping forward to embrace your father. Jason, not one to miss an opportunity, followed closely behind, his grin widening as Viserys clapped him on the shoulder.

“Your Grace,” Jason said, bowing slightly. “A magnificent celebration, as expected.”

“Jason,” Viserys said, laughing. “You’ve been part of this family for a year now. There’s no need for formality.”

Jason straightened, his smile turning even brighter. “Of course, Your Grace—Father.”

You shot Jason a look, suppressing a laugh as Viserys chuckled, clearly amused. “Father, is it? Well, I suppose I should get used to that.”

Rhaenyra, seated beside the king, leaned over with a smirk. “Jason, you do realize that sitting at the royal table doesn’t automatically make you royalty?”

Jason placed a hand over his heart, feigning mock offense. “Princess, I’m wounded. I’m simply here to celebrate this joyous occasion and bask in the presence of such esteemed company.”

“Bask?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “More like bask in your own self-importance.”

Viserys laughed heartily, gesturing for the two of you to sit. “Come, sit with us. It’s been far too long since I’ve had both of my daughters at my side.”

Jason all but beamed as he pulled out a chair for you before taking the seat beside you. He sat straighter than usual, clearly savoring the view from the royal table. Servants immediately approached, filling goblets and offering platters of food.

“This is quite the view,” Jason remarked, glancing down at the hall where the lords and ladies of Westeros feasted below. “I could get used to this.”

“You’re not supposed to get used to it,” you said dryly, spearing a piece of roasted pheasant with your fork. “We’re guests, not new monarchs.”

Jason leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But don’t I look the part? Golden-haired, impeccably dressed, sitting beside my beautiful wife—who happens to be a princess.”

“You look like a man who’s about to spill wine on his doublet,” you retorted, smirking.

Before Jason could reply, Viserys turned to the two of you, his expression soft. “Y/N, it warms my heart to see you here. And Jason, I must commend you for taking such good care of my daughter.”

Jason straightened even more, puffing out his chest slightly. “It’s my greatest honor, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra, overhearing, leaned closer with a sly grin. “And yet, Y/N seems to do most of the work keeping you in line.”

“Marrying a dragon does require a certain level of resilience,” Jason replied with a wink, earning laughter from both Rhaenyra and Viserys.

As the feast continued, Viserys raised his goblet, the hall falling silent as he prepared to speak. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the union of Rhaenyra and Laenor but the strength of our family and the alliances that bind us.”

Jason raised his own goblet enthusiastically, cutting in before Viserys could continue. “And may I add—a toast to the dragons and lions, for there is no force greater in all of Westeros.”

The hall erupted into laughter and applause, though you shook your head, muttering under your breath. “He’s impossible.”

Rhaenyra leaned over, smirking. “You married him. That makes him your problem.”

Viserys laughed, clapping Jason on the back. “Well said, Jason. Well said.”

Jason grinned, clearly in his element. “Anything for family, Your Grace.”

As the night wore on, the royal table became the heart of the celebration, with Jason at the center of every jest and toast. And while you occasionally rolled your eyes at his antics, you couldn’t deny that his enthusiasm was infectious. For all his dramatics, Jason Lannister was exactly where he wanted to be—by your side, among the family he had claimed as his own.

The feast continued in full swing, with the sounds of music, laughter, and clinking goblets filling the Great Hall. Jason, his confidence bolstered by the royal table’s attention, had somehow engaged Lord Jasper Wylde—known for his dour personality and penchant for legal minutiae—in a heated and thoroughly absurd debate.

“I’m just saying,” Jason declared, waving his goblet for emphasis, “a lion would undoubtedly defeat a stag in combat. It’s not even a contest.”

Lord Jasper frowned, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. “A stag is agile and strong. Its antlers are formidable weapons.”

“Formidable?” Jason scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Against what? A blade of grass? A lion would have the stag pinned before it even knew what hit it.”

Viserys chuckled into his goblet, thoroughly entertained, while Rhaenyra leaned toward you, murmuring, “This is what he chooses to debate?”

You smirked, though your amusement was tempered by the growing discomfort in your lower back. “He could argue with a rock if it insulted his pride.”

“Well,” Rhaenyra whispered, “at least he’s amusing.”

Jason continued, gesturing grandly. “And let’s not forget, lions hunt in prides. Imagine an entire pride of lions against one lonely stag. The poor creature wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Nature has its balance, Lord Jason,” Lord Jasper replied, his tone bordering on exasperation. “The stag may not always win, but it has its strengths.”

Jason grinned. “Strengths? The only strength a stag has is being delicious on a plate.”

Laughter rippled through the royal table, but your faint smile faltered as a sharp pain rippled through your abdomen. You inhaled deeply, gripping the edge of the table.

Rhaenyra’s sharp eyes caught the movement. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

You forced a smile, though it was strained. “I’m fine. Just… a bit uncomfortable.”

Jason, oblivious, leaned closer to Lord Jasper, his grin widening. “Let’s settle this once and for all. Your Grace, what do you think? Lion or stag?”

Viserys chuckled but raised his goblet in mock surrender. “I dare not get involved. Both are noble symbols of their respective houses.”

Jason huffed, turning back to Lord Jasper. “See? Even the king agrees it’s—”

“Jason,” you interrupted, your voice unusually sharp. “I think we have a more pressing matter.”

Jason turned to you, his brow furrowing. “What is it, my love? Another ridiculous argument you’d like me to settle?”

You shot him a withering look as another wave of pain hit. “Unless you’d like to debate the speed at which our child plans to arrive, I suggest you stop talking and start helping.”

Jason blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning realization. “Wait… now? You mean… now?”

“Yes, now!” you snapped, gripping his arm as the contractions intensified. “Unless you think I’m doing this for fun.”

The realization hit Jason like a thunderbolt. He shot to his feet, knocking over his goblet in the process. “She’s in labor! Someone do something!”

The hall fell silent for a moment before erupting into chaos. Servants scrambled, lords and ladies exchanged startled glances, and Rhaenyra stood quickly, her expression a mix of concern and amusement.

“Jason, calm down,” Rhaenyra said, trying to steady him. “She needs to be taken to her chambers.”

“Yes, of course,” Jason said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “To the chambers! Quickly! Why is no one moving fast enough?”

Martyn, who had been sitting a few tables away, appeared at Jason’s side, grinning like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. “You’re going to faint, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Jason snapped, though his pale complexion suggested otherwise. “This is my child we’re talking about. My heir. My—”

“Jason!” you snapped, your tone cutting through the chaos. “Less talking, more moving.”

Jason immediately snapped into action, barking orders at everyone within earshot. “You! Get fresh linens. You there, fetch a maester. And you—why are you just standing there? Move!”

Rhaenyra helped you to your feet, her arm steadying you as Jason darted ahead, clearing a path through the crowd like a lion defending his pride. Viserys, watching the scene unfold with a bemused expression, raised his goblet again.

“To my future grandchild,” he said, chuckling. “May they inherit their mother’s patience.”

As you were escorted toward your chambers, Jason alternated between fretting over you and yelling at anyone who didn’t move fast enough.

“Careful with those stairs!” he barked at the guards. “Do you want her to trip and—”

“Jason,” you said through gritted teeth, “if you don’t stop shouting, I will have this child right here just to spite you.”

Martyn, following close behind, burst into laughter. “I think she’s serious, cousin.”

Jason ignored him, turning to the maester who had finally arrived. “What do we do? Is everything ready? Does she need—”

“She needs calm,” the maester said firmly, glancing at you with a reassuring nod. “Let’s get her settled first.”

You shot Jason a look as you reached your chambers. “See? Calm.”

Jason nodded rapidly, though his fidgeting hands betrayed his nerves. “Right. Calm. I can do calm.”

Rhaenyra smirked, patting his shoulder as she guided you inside. “You’d better, Jason. The real work hasn’t even begun.”

And with that, the doors closed, leaving the Great Hall buzzing with laughter and speculation about the dramatic arrival of House Lannister’s newest lion—or dragon.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was still in a chaotic state following Jason’s dramatic outburst. Servants scrambled to clean up spilled goblets and toppled chairs, while guests exchanged amused whispers. In one corner, an elderly Lannister aunt appeared to be having her own kind of meltdown.

“This is why she shouldn’t travel in her condition!” the aunt wailed, clutching at her pearls as she swayed dramatically. “What if something happens? Oh, the baby, the poor baby!”

Tyland Lannister, ever the pragmatist, stepped in to steady her. “Aunt Cecily, I assure you, everything is under control.”

“Under control?” Cecily repeated, wide-eyed. “Did you not hear her screams? This castle is cursed!”

Tyland pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before speaking in a soothing tone. “She wasn’t screaming, Aunt Cecily. She was simply… forcefully communicating with Jason.”

Cecily clutched his arm tighter. “That poor girl. Married to him and now this. It’s too much, Tyland. Too much!”

“I assure you,” Tyland said dryly, “she’s handling it far better than Jason is.”

At the far end of the hall, Queen Alicent sat beside her father, Lord Otto Hightower. Her expression was calm, though her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her goblet as she glanced toward the scene of the commotion.

“Do you think they’ll survive each other?” Alicent asked, her voice quiet but laced with amusement.

Otto didn’t look up from his wine, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Which ones?”

Alicent tilted her head toward the door where Jason had disappeared moments ago. “Jason and his wife.”

Otto let out a faint snort, though he quickly masked it with a sip of wine. “The question isn’t whether they’ll survive each other. It’s whether the Red Keep will survive them.”

Alicent smirked, leaning closer. “You seem to be in a rare mood tonight, Father.”

Otto glanced at her, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smile. “It’s hard not to be when watching a Lannister unravel in front of the entire court.”

At a nearby table, Laenor Velaryon sat beside his sister Laena, the two of them thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Laenor leaned back in his chair, his goblet of wine untouched as he watched the chaos unfold with sparkling eyes.

“Now this,” Laenor said, grinning, “is how you make a wedding memorable.”

Laena smirked, resting her chin on her hand. “I don’t think Jason intended for his wife to go into labor during the feast.”

“No,” Laenor admitted, laughing, “but it’s still the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all night. Did you see his face? He looked like someone set his hair on fire.”

Laena chuckled, swirling her wine. “It’s a wonder he didn’t faint. Though I suppose he’s too vain to collapse in public.”

Laenor clinked his goblet against hers. “To Jason and his dramatics. May their child inherit all of it.”

“And to the poor Maester Mellos,” Laena added with a grin. “May he survive the night.”

At the royal table, King Viserys was in rare form, laughing heartily as he recounted the scene to a nearby lord. His cheeks were flushed from the wine, and his eyes sparkled with genuine joy.

“Did you see him?” Viserys said, shaking his head. “Jumping up like a startled rabbit! ‘She’s in labor!’ he shouted, as if the entire hall couldn’t already tell.”

The lord chuckled, nodding. “It was certainly… memorable, Your Grace.”

“Memorable?” Viserys repeated, raising his goblet. “It was hilarious! My son-in-law has a flair for theatrics, I’ll give him that.”

Rhaenyra, (who returned to the feast and was seated beside her father and Laenor once again) smirked as she sipped her wine. “Jason does have a way of commanding attention.”

Viserys turned to her, grinning. “And what about your sister? Calm as a dragon in flight. She barely flinched.”

“That’s Y/N for you,” Rhaenyra replied, her tone fond. “Always the steady one.”

“Well, she’ll need to be,” Viserys said, chuckling again. “Married to him.”

As the hall gradually settled, the minstrels resumed their lively tunes, and servants brought out fresh trays of food and wine. The lords and ladies returned to their conversations, though the topic of Jason and Y/N’s dramatic exit remained the highlight of the evening.

Tyland finally managed to guide Aunt Cecily back to her seat, where she continued to mutter about curses and carriages. Alicent exchanged amused glances with Rhaenyra, while Laenor and Laena continued to laugh over their shared goblet.

Viserys, still in high spirits, raised his goblet once more. “To family!” he declared, his voice carrying across the hall. “May they bring us joy, laughter, and a little chaos!”

The hall erupted into cheers, and though the feast continued, it was clear that the night’s true entertainment had already taken place.

[nishiyako]

OK OK. IMAGINE AIZAWA AS A FAMOUS HOLLYWOOD STAR AND THE READER IS A NEW ACTOR AND THERE WORKING TOGETHER. COULD U DO A FIC LIKE THAT. REST UP TO U! CANT WAIT TO READ IT 💕💕

After Hours (NSFW)

Pairing : Actor!Aizawa x Actor!Reader

Tags : Cowgirl, Penetration, Creampie, Pretty vanilla, reader being a menace, established relationship

Summary : After a long and painful shoot of a movie, you and your fiancé have a little after work celebration, simple and domestic for him but you have other plans.

You didn’t enjoy complaining about your job in the movie industry, afterall, lots of people would kill to have this job. You were one of the characters in a new action type of movie. You weren't the main love interest or anything just the hot lady character in the group of hero’s, thankful enough to get in as only a C-List actress but one of your most notable co-workers was the Shota Aizawa, playing the dark mysterious villain in the movie, you couldn't lie, it absolutely suited him.

Those chronic bedroom eyes, scruffy black hair with that dark husky type of voice, and those chronic bedroom eyes. Best part? You got to call him your finance.

Your relationship isn't really secret, just down low. Normal people wouldn't know but fans would think it was a pretty basic fact. 

You snapped yourself back from your thoughts, feeling the tight latex suit tighten around you, hearing the sound of the zipper. You cringed looking at your character's outfit, who were you supposed to be? Cat Woman?

At Least it wasn't full body but you could still feel the twitch in your eye before heading over to hair and makeup, you passed by Aizawa rehearsing his lines in the mirror, he really was always dedicated to his role. A soft smile appears on your lips before leaving for the rest of your costume.

Hours felt like days, redoing scenes for what seemed like the millionth time, having to switch in and out with your stunt doubles, not to mention the goddamn latex suit? If this was what the industry would be like all the time you were honestly second guessing it.

What seemed like hell for you, seemed like heaven for Aizawa, having to film outside while he wore some cowboy hat and could easily cover himself up with the cape costumes department gave him, his pasty white skin still as light as it was from the start of production, guess being the villain did have its perks.

One of his favorite perks was seeing you, fighting to keep a smile on your face while you seemed like you were baking in that tight latex suit, that shiny, tight little suit. It felt wrong enjoying seeing his partner like this but that blush from your face scattered to the rest of your body, that curly hair do wasn't doing you any favors either.

He started picking up on your discomfort, a bit later than what he wanted to admit, he stood closer to you, raising his arm up, using the cape to put you under some type of shade. You look up seeing his soft smile, taking shelter in the cloak that hid you from the blazing sun. 

Most of the shoot went as normal, shooting scenes and switching in and out but one of your favorite moments were the high tension scenes with the main character and Aizawas character, him monologing in a deep husky southern accent, anger in his eyes as you saw his rugged hands reaching for the gun on his holster, looking like he wanted nothing but to paint the desert sand beneath him with the blood of his enemy.

You swore you were falling in love all over again, wanting to pounce on him every second. Spoke in character perfectly almost the whole time. You haven't seen something like it yet, you haven't been in the industry like he was but you could tell, he was good.

The shoot continued as normal, when you and him would switch out you would always be found under his cape, trying to act natural. The shoot finally ended when it got too dark to get the shots needed for the movie.

Hours pass and you’re in Aizawa's private trailer, leaving yours abandoned for the afternoon. Him laid back on a couch, reading a book in a black shirt and sweats while you just got out of the changing room. Hair still a bit messy, wearing nothing but the fluffy robes from the drawers in the trailer

He was reading the book the movie was based on, trying to get more in touch with the story than just reading the script.

Taking a small strut out of the changing room, walking in front of the couch of your soon to be husband and letting the loose bathrobe fall off your shoulders and dropping to the floor.

His eyes met your nude body infront of him, knowing just what you wanted without you saying anything. He sighed, he was too tired for it, that costume was heavy and he had to wear it the whole day too. He dropped the book over his face not wanting to look at you for much longer, putting his hands behind his head, looking like he was just about to doze off. 

he might do something he would regret. You were beautiful, the most gorgeous woman hes ever met dont get him wrong, but sometimes sex needs to sleep too. 

A whine escaping your lips as you saw his uninterested state. You climbed on the couch, straddling him and taking a nice seat on his hips, already feeling his semi hard cock against you. You take the book he was reading off his face and closing it, he opened his eyes with the same deadness it always had “I was reading that” he said in a smokey tone.

You placed it on the table beside the both of you, “sure.” you scoffed in a sarcastic tone, lowering your lips to his neck, giving him a few kisses and love bites. “Didn’t even mark the page..” he muttered, complaining, following his sentence. “Mhm..” you mumbled against his skin, your hands already sneaking up under his shirt. 

He could play coy all he wants, you could feel him getting harder under you. “Do you not want me anymore?” you asked sarcastically, pulling away from him. “Of Course I want you, every part.” He reassured, placing his hand on your thigh, giving you a sense of comfort. “But aren't you tired?” He followed up, his chest was right against yours, feeling his heavy breath right against your lips.

He was loving, caring and just a bit protective. He couldn’t live with the fact of the love of his life not getting enough sleep (the other love of his life), “Tired? It's too early for me to be tired.” you said energetically, a smile on your face. “I love your energy” Aizawa sugar coated, “But I'm pretty worn out from today, I don’t know how much I can do'' He said disappointed in himself, he loved spoiling you. but you didn’t find a problem in that, the smile on your face growing even bigger from hearing that. 

“I don’t mind that.” you breathed out “I can take the lead just fine.” you said, grinding against the bulge in his sweatpants. He hissed through his teeth from your sudden movement against him, him slightly throwing back his head in pleasure.

He couldn’t say no now, you gave him the perfect excuse to lay back and have you ride him. “In that case.” he unties the knot on his sweatpants, an obvious invitation before lying back on the couch and taking his book back into his hands. “Ride away, cowgirl.” he said half jokingly in the voice of his character, that accent stuck on his tongue from speaking it the whole day.

He thought it was funny but it just made you melt.

You took off his sweatpants, letting them rest around his thighs as he read his book. You stroked his shaft a few times, your mouth already watering seeing the deep pink color of the tip and the upward turn, you felt butterflies inside you, seeing it right between your thighs, its deep pink shiny tip already making our mind race.

You licked your fingers, wetting your slit before you slowly sank in on him, you closed your eyes, focusing on just the feeling of having him inside you after a long day, while he struggled to remember which part he was reading.

As you took him all in you saw him, seeing the breath escape his lips, trying to focus on his book. You started rocking your hips back and forth, his left hand holding you steady while his eyes still on the word of his book.

You rubbed against him, with him inside you. Feeling yourself getting stretched out the more you move. Feeling the spot between your thighs get more moist than it was. Letting his tip hit your sweet spot repeatedly. Slow and gentle friction between the both of you, your palms resting on his broad chest, his free hand gently rubbing the skin on your hips, giving you that silent support that kept you going.

He managed to finish one or two pages before suddenly he felt your hips slam down on him, a moan escaping from your lips, catching by surprise. He lost track of where he was on his page, gripping onto the flesh of your hip as you started to speed up the pace of your movements.

Your legs help you bounce on him slowly, letting him hit that perfect spot inside you making you feel a little dizzy everytime.

Aizawa was a great actor, one of the best but to feel you move on him repeatedly, with so much passion and need. He couldn't act like that wasn't doing something to him. He placed his book face down on the table.

You warp your arms around his neck, your eyes filled with desperation as you bounce up and down on him in jolts of energy. His frame towering over you even if you were on top of him.

His hands helping you, guiding your hips closer to his body, his lips millimeters away from yours, feeling your breath right against the skin of hips lips, your eyes getting watery as you get overwhelmed from the basic closeness of him and the constend jolts of pleasure waving through your veins.

Aizawa was a calm and disciplined man but when you were like this, so close against him he couldn't fight the urge to hold you against him. Sloppy kisses against your lips, and the aimless and clumsy riding going on between your body’s.

Small breathy moans being exchanged between kisses as the knot inside you starts to tighten and your body starts to grow weak, finding support from the needy hands of your fiance, touching and admiring every part of you, feeling the slick of your walls tightening around him, white opaque liquid dripping down, staining the black sofa under the both of you.

He pulls away from the kiss, wiping away the saliva from the corner of your mouth. “Close yet, sweetheart?” he asked with a husky tone, feeling his breath against your ear. A whine escapes your lips as you try to find the words to say. You paw at his black shirt, holding yourself closer to him, as you whine a sad, sorry sounding “yeah…” against his ear. A light hearted chuckle escaping his mouth, hearing the depravity in your voice.

His right hand leaves the small of your back, finding the small bud in between your thighs, rubbing your clit gently, using the slick from your insides to coat his hand. Small gentle rubs stimulating you, sending waves of pleasure while you rode him.

He made sure you got there, wouldn’t want you staying up for too long before the big shoot tomorrow.

Suddenly you felt a wave of dopamine flood through you, throwing your head back with a strained moan escaping your throat, his left hand holding you close, a grunt escaping his mouth as he finished inside you, shoulders hunching over him taking in your lewd afterglow from getting all tired out.

“You tired now?” he asked as you cooled down from your high. “Pretty much..” you sighed out in a satisfied state.

●●● A/N : sorry this took so long annon, I tried to make it as actor-y as I could with it still sounding natural!!