#oh jam were truly in it now

[villruu]

I am being so normal :) <-[writing the most self indulgent jam one shot ever]

[pipwritesoccasionally]

perfect little family

dad!nanami x mom!reader

in which your daughter visits you at work and your perfect husband comes with her!

warnings: fem!reader

higuruma mention because i love him too

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

the day started off ordinarily. you’d gone to work as you always did, even stopping by the bakery next to your daughter’s daycare to pick up a croissant. it was hot and buttery, just how you liked it, and it lessened the feeling of dread that came from working in a law firm every day. 

“good morning!” you exclaimed to the assistant at the front desk, who smiled right back. you’d been good friends since you’d started working in the firm three years prior. 

“good morning (y/n)! how was your weekend?”  

“not long enough. the kiddo decided that she didn’t want to get any sleep, so kento and i were going a little mad. luckily, she’s at daycare for the day, so i can get some peace and quiet while at work,” you recalled, feeling some of the exhaustion seep back in. 

“i know right! my twins wouldn’t sleep through the night for months at a time and i thought i would pass out right here at my desk.” 

“i can’t imagine what we would do if there were two of her. she’s so cute, but she can be a menace. if kento weren’t around to help her i think i’d just have to quit working.” you loved bringing up your wonderful husband, as he truly was the person who made everything alright in the world. 

“i’m so jealous!” one of your coworkers groaned as they walked by. “when do we get to meet this perfect husband of yours (y/n)?” 

“sorry, we’ve just been so busy lately! no one told me the terrible twos last until they turn four! i promise i’ll get him to come out sometime!” you apologize, knowing that your coworkers have been begging to meet kento ever since you began working here. you two were a more private couple, so you didn’t really have pictures of him on your desk. just some notes from him or your daughter, as well as a calendar with all of the important dates on it. 

“oh (y/n), higuruma said he left some papers on your desk to fill out before your meeting in an hour.” your friend at the front desk said, and you thanked her before heading there to fill them out. 

the stack was menacing, but you got it all done, and ran to meet with your boss and the other attorneys of your firm. you slid the door open and shuffled to sit in your seat. higuruma gave you a slight smile in acknowledgement, and you smiled back. you’d become something like friends in the few years you’d worked at the firm, so at least he was a friendly face. 

“alright, i’m here to make sure we’re all on the same page about the client we’re defending before our meeting with them on thursday.” your boss began, before making his way through the information in the documents you had been given earlier. 

he was in the middle of talking when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. you grabbed for it, meaning to shut it off, before realizing it was from your daughter’s daycare. 

“excuse me, i need to take this. it’s about my daughter. sorry!” you exclaim, rushing out the door of the meeting room and answering the call. 

“hello! is this (y/n)?” a cheerful voice on the other side spoke. 

“yes it is! is something wrong?” 

“your daughter seems to be not feeling well, and she keeps asking for you. is there any way you can come pick her up?” you frowned, remembering that she had been fine this morning. not to mention the fact that your schedule was jam packed all day, and that missing these meetings would severly affect your performance in front of the client. 

“i’m so sorry, my schedule is entirely full. however, my husband kento should be home today, is there any way you can call him?” 

“of course! we’ll call him right now,” the daycare worker says, and hangs up. you sigh, and head back into the meeting. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hours later, you were in another meeting, this time with some new attorneys, as your boss had asked you to discuss your firm’s processes when it comes to civil or criminal trials. you were currently presenting in front of a group of ten, when a knock echoed across the room. the group went silent, and the closest attorney stood to open the door. 

as soon as the door was open a crack, someone pushed it open and ran over to you. 

“mama! mama!” a little figure ran across the room and threw herself at you, barely making it so you could catch her. she had kento’s brown eyes and (h/c) hair, making her instantly recognizable as your daughter. 

“sweetheart, what are you doing here?” you whisper at her, placing her on your hip. 

“i wanted to see you, so daddy said we could come see if you were busy! but then the lady at the front desk said you were here in a meeting, so i came to see you!” she smiled, her grin showing the spot where she’d lost her first tooth a month ago. 

“well we can’t play right now, but you’re welcome to watch me present if you can sit quietly in that chair over there.” you point at the empty chair, but she shakes her head. 

“no mama! i want you to hold me,” she pouts, and you know that you have to give in. you sigh, before standing straight and grabbing the control for your powerpoint. 

“slight change of plans. this is my assistant, (d/n), and she will be helping me present.” you tell the other attorneys, who are holding back laughter, before continuing your presentation. 

once it’s over and the other attorneys begin to pack up, you take your daughter’s hand and lead her back to the lobby, where your husband is surrounded by a group of your coworkers, including the one from earlier. 

“so, what brings you to the firm?” one woman giggles, clearly infatuated with him. 

“my wife works here,” he says, pushing his glasses up with his hand to show off his wedding band. 

“wife??? who’s your wife??” one of the other women exclaims, but at that moment your daughter chooses to run at him in a full spring. 

“DADDY!” she exclaims, “THE LAWYER PEOPLE SAID I WAS REALLY PROFESSIONAL DURING MAMA’S MEETING!” 

“were you now?” he says, placing her on his hip. “where is your mama anyways?” 

“i’m right here,” you say, and the group of women turn to face you. 

“(y/n)?? he’s YOUR husband??” the coworker from earlier says, and you nod. 

“how can you not have pictures of him on your desk?? he’s gorgeous!” she yells, and you laugh. 

“he mostly takes pictures of me and (d/n), but it’s more of just a safety thing so people don’t find out where he and (d/n) live.” you reply, smiling. you walk past them to your husband, who pulls you into his other side immediately. 

“hi darling, sorry about her,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple. you hear a chorus of squeals behind you, and your friend from the front desk asking them to disperse, but you pay them no mind. 

“it’s no big deal. i think the new attorneys were less stressed out because she was there.” you poke your daughter on the nose, and she giggles. 

“anyways, we should probably get going. when will you be home?” kento asks, and you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“early today, i just have one meeting left and then i’m done. so in around two hours?” you feel the vibration of his chest as he hums. you pull away and step back towards your office, still facing your little family. 

“alright (d/n), say bye to your mom,” kento says, and your daughter waves with an enthused “BYE MAMA!”

you wave back, watching them leave. nothing could compare to the feeling of your perfect little family.

[edenesth]

[7:03 AM]

"Oh my freaking god! If you don't know how to drive, go back to driving school!" you shouted, resisting the urge to flip off the car in front of you. "Seriously, how did these people even get their driver's licenses?!"

Seonghwa bit his lip, glancing over at you with hearts in his eyes. He admired your heeled foot pressing aggressively on the accelerator as you overtook the slow driver hogging the fast lane. His eyes travelled up to your work outfit—a well-fitted black velvet dress with a mid-thigh slit, a floral-patterned scrunchie on your wrist, and a pair of geeky rose gold-rimmed glasses on your face.

God, if only she knew how hot she looked.

The thing was, you were usually the sweetest angel known to man. Everyone at your workplace called you 'sunshine,' and you truly were the nicest person to exist, a quality that had drawn him to you. To him, this made you wifey material, and he couldn't imagine loving anyone else if you weren't the one he eventually married.

But there was one time when you were most unlike your usual self: whenever you were on the road, behind the wheel. When you drove, you turned into a complete demon.

He remembered witnessing this side of you for the first time. It was just a few weeks into your relationship when he needed a ride. His initial shock quickly turned into admiration as he savoured the meanest resting bitch face he'd ever seen on you. He had no idea his sweet, perfect angel could harbour such rage.

That same expression was on your face now, and he would never tire of seeing it. However, there was one problem: he was getting a little too excited from seeing you like this. This was not the right time for such feelings. He was on his way to work, for goodness' sake. The last thing he needed was for his coworkers to notice how 'affected' he was by his girlfriend first thing in the morning.

To avoid letting his excitement escalate, he quickly took out his phone and started playing around with it, eventually settling on taking selfies using the mirror on the visor to distract himself.

"Man, I look good today," he smirked.

"Oh yeah? We'll see how good you look when you have to walk yourself to work tomorrow. This will be the last time I'm dropping you off, Park. That goddamn car of yours better be all serviced and ready by the end of the day."

His grin vanished at your words. "But babe, we're having such a good time. Don't you like spending a few extra minutes with me, hm? Besides, the guys at the workshop said it could take a few days if the spare parts don't arrive on time—" he was cut off by the deadly glare you shot him.

"If you think being stuck in an unnecessary jam and being late to my own job because of you is a good time, you need to reevaluate your priorities," you said coolly, eyes on the road as you overtook all the drivers from hell and sped toward his office building, which was thankfully not too far from yours.

"Yes, ma'am."

Seonghwa wasn’t sure how to feel hearing those words, but he supposed he finally understood what it meant to be both scared and turned on at the same time because damn, that was hot.

Before he could dwell on those feelings for too long, the car slowed to a stop, and he realised you had arrived at his workplace. After shifting the gear to park, you turned to face him, your usual warm smile greeting him once again—the smile he adored, the one that had stolen his heart, the one that made him realise you were the one.

"We're here, Hwa! You know I don't mean any of those words, right? I'll drive you whenever you need me to. Now go before you're late."

Just like that, his angel was back.

His heart melted all over again as he leaned in to press his lips firmly against your invitingly pink ones, not caring if he ruined your gloss. That was what you deserved after all the things you had just said to him. Call it his little payback if you will. To his delight, your eyes fluttered shut as you kissed him back, just like the sweet angel you always were, giving in to him without fail.

Pulling back slowly, you sighed, "Go. I'll see you after work. Love you."

He bit his lip, feeling your thumb swiftly wipe your gloss off his lips. "I love you too, babe. God, you drive me crazy."

And he meant it.

You giggled, pushing him away by the chest. "You do the same to me, Park Seonghwa."

As he got out of the car, his heart pounded in his chest, still reeling from the emotional whiplash you had given him. Feeling hot from the experience, he loosened his tie to cool off before entering his office. Oh yes, he couldn't wait to be picked up by you this evening. Unlike now, he would be able to show you just how crazy you made him once you got home tonight.

Just you wait, you little devil.

ATEEZ Masterlist

I... this is self-indulgent as fck, that's all I'll say HAHA this was the only thing on my mind as I was driving home from work today. I'm usually sweet as an angel (it's what most people say about me) but good lord, I'm unrecognisable whenever I'm on the road.

Sacrificed my workout time to write this because priorities LMFAO

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this random timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

@bangtannie7

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[chantersboard]

Lovely To Be Rained On With You

Summary: 3K. Reader and Joel rush to find shelter from the storm

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, post-outbreak, oral f!receiving, unprotected PIV, creampie

A/N: okay I have spent so much time on here reading other Joel fics and enjoying myself so I kinda wanted to give back. but first of all I need to get three things off my chest. one, it's been a long time since I've written anything. two, this is my first writing The Last of Us. three, and probably most important as I beg for kindness, it's my first time writing smut. this has been sitting in my docs for too long so Imma just press post and walk away. enjoy! AO3

The weather was changing rapidly. Not long ago it had only been partly cloudy, but now, for as far as the eye could see, the sky was one massive, threatening cloud. The leaves danced on their branches as the gusting wind flowed through them; their rustling a constant melody accompanied by the quickening beat of two pairs of boots.

Tightening the grip on your rifle, you look up at the darkening sky. The weapon could protect you from a lot, but not from this. It had been four days since you left camp and it was still another day’s walk until you returned. 

There was no outrunning this storm.

A few feet ahead of you Joel Miller marches onward, his broad frame and long legs setting a rapid pace you struggle to keep up with. The pack on your back is overfilled and heavy with recently looted goods. It causes your steps to be slow, more cautious and measured. 

You take a deep breath, “Joel…?” you begin. You’re both thinking it. Someone has to say it out loud. “It’s gonna pour in any minute.”

His graying curls dance along with the leaves in the wind. He steps over a fallen tree then turns and offers his hand to help you over. You graciously accept it, sliding your fingers over his calloused hand. The weight of the bag digs into your shoulders as you step over. Had it not been for the heavy sack you would have been closer to camp by now, but those supplies are the sole reason the two of you journeyed so far away.

“I know,” he says as you join him on the other side of the log. 

“We’re too far from camp—”

“I know,” he repeats, his brows furrowing. He scouts the distance, bright eyes scanning left and right, through the trees and beyond. A bead of sweat slowly falls down his face, the unseasonable hot May weather demanding to be acknowledged.

“There was a cabin…” he trails off, lost in thought. You look ahead, only seeing trees. “D’you remember? Was it before or after all those alliums we saw?”

You think back and try to remember this area from a few days ago but a lot had happened since: Joel injured his shoulder wrestling with a jammed door; you found and promptly devoured a can of ravioli; there were two separate attacks with solitary infected; finding the motherlode of supplies in what looked like a doomsday prepper’s basement; oh, and then there was last night. 

Still riding the high of finding all those medical supplies and ammunition (and a bottle of bourbon), the two of you spent last evening in high spirits. You shared stories and laughed and drank. Joel hummed a tune that had you swaying your hips and smiling towards the obsidian sky. For a moment things felt so easy and normal. 

At some point that night, with only a sliver of the moon in the sky, you stumbled in the darkness and fell into Joel’s arms. You had looked up at him, your hand rested on his strong chest as you breathed in the scent of him. Your body tingled where his hands pressed into your waist. The stars twinkled above him as he smiled crookedly and whispered, “y’okay, sweetheart?” and you nearly confessed. Nearly told him how you truly felt about him. Nearly revealed you knew he watched you when he thought you couldn’t see. 

Nearly kissed his gorgeous face. 

But then he dropped his hands, the magic of the moment gone, and you swallowed your feelings. You fell asleep last night wishing things were different. Wishing Joel was yours. 

A single raindrop plopping on your forehead brings you back to the present. “We saw the cabin first,” you recall. “And then the flowers.”

Joel nods, walking forward even faster than he had before. He too must have felt a raindrop. 

The two of you continue onwards, the sky teasing you with singular drops of rain as you migrant the woodsy terrain. It doesn’t take long until you see them in the distance. 

Alliums. The purple flowers, towering high on skinny stalks, sway in the wind. The bulbous plant, petals like bursting fireworks, are scattered across the field. The sight of them brings you relief. It shouldn’t be much longer until you find the cabin. 

Just as you walk past the last bunch of flowers the sky begins to open up. The rain comes softly at first. Small drops that slide off your skin and moisten your clothing. Foolishly, you believe if it continues like this you’ll be fine. But as lightning shoots across the sky and thunder shakes your body, the drops grow heavier, their frequency increasing. 

The rain continues to fall harder as you trek on. The sound of water blanketing the land drowns out everything else. Joel turns and looks behind at you, his normally bouncy hair weighted down and plastered to his face. Another clap of thunder rings as the rain soaks through you. It seeps all the layers of your clothing, through your jeans, through your socks, pooling in your boots. 

Walking is becoming more difficult as your boots sink into the mud, your clothes are soaked through and heavy and your cumbersome backpack doesn’t help. You’re about to yell ahead, tell Joel it doesn’t even matter anymore, that you’re too tired, but then you see the cabin. 

It’s a tiny little thing. The sheltered patio leads into one cozy room. To your right is a kitchenette, directly in front of you is a small living space, and further back, against the wall rests a bed. There’s a closed off area there as well, presumably a bathroom. 

Joel crosses the cabin, his hand resting on the pistol holstered to his hip, and peers into the smaller room. His posture relaxes and he gives a quick nod. The cabin is safe. 

You rest your rifle against the wall by the door and unceremoniously drop your bag. Relief spreads through your bones. You arch your back and stretch your arms upwards, pulling the muscles along your spine. You glance across the room and there it is again—Joel is watching you. His eyes travel your body and linger where your soaked top clings to your chest.

He’s lost in the sight of you. You raise your arms higher, his gaze warming your cheeks and your core, and you push your chest further out to taunt him. The wet fabric is unforgiving and you're sure he can see your hardened nipples even from across the room. 

You decide to break the silence. “You think it will last long?”

Joel snaps to attention, his eyes finding yours as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Huh? What was that?”

“The storm,” you pause to lick your lips. “Do you think it’ll last long?”

Joel sets his backpack down at the head of the bed. “Not too sure,” he looks past you out the window at the turbulent weather, “regardless, we should stay here for the night.” He opens his bag and begins to rummage through it. 

You nod as you walk over to the foot of bed. With your back facing him you sit on the edge. “In that case I’m gonna get out of these clothes.”

You wrap your fingers under the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. You toss the clothing and it lands with a loud slap on the wooden floor. After kicking off your boots and socks you lift your hips off the bed enough to push your jeans to your thighs. You struggle to get the tight and stiff wet denim off your legs. 

You lean back on your forearms and look behind at Joel. He’s suddenly very interested in his bag. You watch as he digs around, the muscles in his arms pressing against his tee. His face is glistening wet and it highlights the slope of his nose and the curve of his jaw. He’s just as handsome as always. 

“Hey, Joel?” You bite your lip and wait for his attention. 

His hands still as he looks down at you. “Yes, sweetheart?”

The endearment makes your heart swell. You swing your dangling legs. “Can you help me out of these? They’re giving me trouble.”

He looks at the jeans halfway down your thighs. You’ve changed in front of Joel before but after last night, after spending so much time alone with him, things have gotten intimate.  You feel exposed half undressed in your mismatched undergarments, but it’s also exciting and your breath quickens under Joel’s glare. 

“Yeah, I can help,” he nearly whispers. He drops his bag on the floor, the stuff within no longer important, and rounds the bed. You lift your legs when he gets close and await his touch. 

He holds your ankles first. Gathering the material there, he attempts to pull, but the jeans barely move. So his hands climb up, over your calves, then behind your knees, and when they reach your thighs he pauses. He hooks onto the edge of the material, his thick fingers touching your bare skin, and pulls.

The jeans start to give way. As he tugs your body jostles, your breasts bouncing lightly in your worn bra, each jerk becoming more arousing. Once he’s peeled your pants off he discards them onto the floor along with your shirt. 

“There ya go,” he says as he comes between your legs and leans in. “Will you be needin’ anything else?”

He looks at you, his eyes intense and questioning. He’s so close you can feel his body heat, even with his cool wet shirt brushing against your bare torso. A flash of lightning briefly brightens the room. You swallow hard and wait for the resounding thunder. You won’t repeat last night. You won’t let this moment pass. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper. 

And suddenly Joel’s lips are pressed against yours. He kisses you hungrily, mashing himself against you, finally feeding the longing you’ve both felt for some time. You part your mouth and allow his tongue entry as you melt into him. You explore each other, your hands running along his chest as you’re rendered breathless under his kissing. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You pull at the fabric wanting to feel his skin against yours. 

Joel breaks from the heated kiss and straightens his body. His eyes are dark and filled with lust as he yanks his shirt off. You watch him as you scoot back on the bed and fully lay down. He kicks off his boots and undoes his belt and jeans. His body is strong from years of manual labor. There’s a line of hair on his soft belly that trails under his boxers.  

“What else do you need, sweetheart?”

You can’t tell if the roaring in your ears is the sound of the rain or of your quickly beating heart. Joel waits for your answer as he unclips the gun holster from his belt and rests it on the floor. His hardening cock springs free when he drops his pants and boxers. 

He strokes himself slowly and you watch as his cock gets harder in his grasp. You rub your thighs together, desperately seeking relief for the growing ache between your legs. You unclasp your bra and cup your breasts. Joel softly grunts when you pinch your nipples between your fingers. 

The sight of him bare and beautiful leaves you breathless. He looks so handsome with his hair slicked back and glossy from the rain. The sight of his cock, hard and ready for you, sets you on fire. He licks his lips and all you can think about is those lips on you. On your mouth, on your tits, on your cunt. You have never wanted someone so badly. 

“You, Joel,” you finally say. “I need you.”

He smiles at your answer and makes his way onto the bed. He takes his time crawling up to you, planting kisses along the way. He pauses when he meets the apex of your legs. 

His fingers curl around the band of your panties and he pulls them down and off. You open your legs, inviting him in, so desperate for his touch. 

He looks up with hungry eyes. “I want to taste you,” he says as his fingers part your pussy lips, opening you even further for him. 

Joel opens his mouth and presses his tongue against your cunt. He licks up, takes his time savoring you until he passes over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation has you moaning and lifting your hips to meet his mouth. 

“Oh, Joel,” you whine as he continues sucking and licking you, alternating between the flat of his tongue and the point of his tip. One of his large fingers finds the entrance to your hole and pushes inside. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me already,” he mumbles into your folds. “One of my fingers isn’t enough, is it?”

Your hands run through his hair as he inserts another finger inside you, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them into the spot within you that has you moaning his name. 

Your pleasure grows as Joel finds his rhythm, his mouth and hand working together to bring you closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Please, Joel,” you’re begging, pleading with him. “Don’t stop! I’m so close, please don’t stop!”

So he doesn’t. His moans join your screams of pleasure until the pressure in your core finally snaps. Your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm rips through you. Joel’s fingers continue to work through your high, prolonging your pleasure until your legs relax and your grip loosens from his hair. 

“Fuck,” you exhale as Joel crawls up, his strong body caging around you. He leans into you, the touch of his skin on yours and the weight of him soothing your body. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck as one of his hands squeezes your breast, his fingers playfully twisting your nipple. 

He’s planting kisses on you again, on your neck, along your jaw, then on your lips. You moan when you taste your own release on his tongue as he slips it between your lips. You spread your legs further underneath him, a fire burning in your core that only he can put out. His cock rests thick and hard between you. 

“I still need you,” you whisper, lifting your hips to grind yourself against the length of him. You need all of him, every pound and every inch. You need his touch, his lips, his moans. You need him around you. You need him in you. 

He grunts as you rub against him, your wet hole eager to be filled. 

“I need you too,” he whispers back as he reaches in between your bodies. He grabs himself and aligns the thick head of his cock at your entrance. 

You whimper as he slowly pushes himself inside you. Inch by inch your walls stretch to accommodate his shaft. Seeds of pleasure start to grow when he’s fully inserted into you. 

Joel stills inside you and looks into your eyes. His face is twisted in bliss. “Goddamn, your pussy is squeezing me so tight,” he rasps. He sharply exhales when you flex your cunt around him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He begins to pump his hips then, making soft shallow thrusts until he’s gotten used to the feeling of you. He moans into your mouth as he picks up the pace, nearly pulling himself out of you entirely before plummeting back into your depths. 

His dick is intoxicating. Waves of pleasure wash over you each time he rams himself deep in you. He fills you completely, your wet hole stretching around the length of him. 

Joel begins stroking faster, his hips snapping into you at a blinding pace. Your fingers dig into his back when he rocks into the spot that makes you arch your back and moan his name. 

He smiles, satisfied with the pleasure his cock gives you. “Right there?” He asks as he continues to mercilessly drill into you, pounding your sweet spot over and over again. 

“Yea—oh my god, Joel—yes!”

He’s already pushing you towards your next orgasm and he can sense it. He repositions your bodies, folding you nearly in half as he brings your knees up. 

You scream out as the altered position lets him stroke deeper inside you. His cock hits your cervix, pain and pleasure meshing together, forcing you closer to the edge. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Joel asks as your moans increase in volume. “Look at your pretty pussy juices making a mess… so fucking wet.”

You look down where the two of you are connected. You watch as he disappears inside you and then reappears again, shiny with your slick. The image makes your head spin. 

“I… oh fuck! I’m gonna… I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna cum on my cock for me? Huh?” His strokes are becoming more erratic, his own orgasm approaching. “Gonna let me feel that pussy grip my dick while you cum?”

Joel’s filthy words combined with his dick destroying your cunt sends you over. You yell out as your orgasm knocks over you. Your pussy pulsates around Joel, pushing him over the edge. You milk his cock as he cums, his dick twitching inside you as his warm seed fills your hole. 

The two of you lay there a while, Joel softening inside you as his body envelopes yours. When your body has relaxed and your breathing has slowed Joel softly presses his lips to yours. He rises and slowly pulls out. You feel your combined arousal spill out of you once he’s completely out of the warmth of your cunt. You immediately miss the fullness he gave you when he rolls over to lay beside you. 

The storm continues on outside. Fat raindrops pellet the cabin and the wind rattles the windows. Staying in was a good call, the sky was already darkening with the approaching night. 

You look over to Joel. His eyes are closed, his face is soft and relaxed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so calm before.

“Y’okay, sweetheart,” you ask, mirroring Joel’s words from last night. 

Joel chuckles as he intertwines his fingers in yours. “Yeah. I am now.”

[lucerothings1]

Only my doll

Paring: Bucky Barnes x male reader

Warnings: Gay smut, anal, slightly rough Bucky, oral.

Request : Hey, can I make a request for bucky barnes x bottom mreader smut? Jealous sex after a stranger flirts with Y/N.

…………………………………..………………………………………

“Hey doll” Bucky had said as he looked up to see some stupid idiot standing next to you who had you practically red. “No but really what do you do to stay so fit and hot y/n” the idiot could be heard saying as Bucky got closer but what truly was his last straw was they he lad a hand on you touching your whole arm.

“Well thank you Alex I’m flattered but just eat good and work out a lot” you responded quick as you saw your boyfriends gears turn “Hey baby found it” he yelled smiling surprising you that he wasn’t already killing the man. “Ah look at that thanks babe” you responded quickly “Hi who’s this you” Bucky said to you “Oh he’s just an old friend from high school you responded.

“Hi I’m Alex” said the man greeting Bucky with a hand “I’m James y/n’s boyfriend” Bucky responded as you got confused as to why he said his real name as he also refused to touch the man’s hand. “Whatcha talking about” “I was just asking Y/n here that whole is it that he keeps so fit”Alex said “Oh yeah he dose huge amounts of cardio huge fan of it” Bucky said smirking “well let’s go we can’t be late for Sam’s dinner later right baby” Bucky said to to now looking to you as you finally were able to find that look in his eyes.

“You know your right wouldn’t want him to get mad okay it was nice seeing you again Alex bye” you said as you got a hold of bucky’s hand and were on your way to pay. “Well thanks for not killing him just now” “yeah don’t worry about him worry about you” Bucky responded quickly in your ear.

“You think that was okay what you did huh” Bucky said as he pushed you into the nearest wall “what do you mean” “oh please y/n don’t play dumb with me that idiot was practically eye fucking you and you didn’t do shit about it” Bucky said as he pushed you even more into the wall if possible as he pushed his lips onto you quickly fighting for dominance and quickly winning as he begun to explore your mouth again.

“Mhm Bucky please your being rough” you said as your tried to separate from him “you wanna see rough y/n just watch what I’m gonna do to you” he said as he lifted you up and took you to your shared room. “Bucky please” “Don’t Bucky me y/n you like being treated like a slut fine then be one” he said as he placed you at the floor as you got on your knees in front of him as he begun to remove his belt.

“Your mine doll you need to remember that you got that” he growled as you looked at him only nodding as you knew fighting wasn’t gonna get you anywhere “ open up nice and wide” he said again as he finally freed him thickness out from its cage of clothes and slapped it on your cheek as you obeys and awaited with an open mouth as he jammed his cock in you.

“Fuck yeah take my cock in your throat doll who’s throat is this huh” he asked you as he begun to face fuck you only removing you from using cock for an answer that he wanted “huh answer” “yours Bucky yours” “that’s right not any idiots mine you got that” he said “yes” you answered again as he nodded as “that’s right baby” he said giving you a slight slap on the face as he returned his cock in your mouth as you could feel his cock alone already fitting the back of your throat.

“God your taking me in so good” he moaned out as he begun fastening his pace as the sounds being heard was his balls slapping at your chin and the sounds of you gagging on him only send shivers up to him even more. “Fuck I’m gonna cum yeah take it swallow it all doll fuck yeah take my cum” he moaned out as he placed a hand on your throat and another on your hair as he was in heaven as he could feel himself in you throat and tasing your head at an angle to not be able to let go of him.

“Shitt every drop doll” he moaned again as you obeyed and sucked him dry of his baby juice as he pushed you off and a pop was heard as you released him from your mouth. “Fuck get up come on up and strip” he said as he removed his clothes and got on top of the bed as you did the same “Come on open your legs” he said as you lefted your legs up and open for him.

“God just look at that prize all mine right” he said as he got closer and you could feel his fingers already teasing and tracing circles around your center. “Right” he said as he shoved two fingers in dry “AAhh Fuck yes Bucky yes please just use lube please” you moaned out in pain and slight pleasure.

“Ah nah ah boys who go around slutting them selfs out don’t get lube” he said accompanied by a slap on your ass “AH FUck” you yelled “ What can’t handle your consequences” he said smirking as he added another finger inside “okay your open enough” he said as he quickly removed his fingers and soon added something much bigger.

“Wait Bucky please go slow on me” you begged “yeah I don’t think so doll” he said as he shoved his full cock into you dry as he began with a fast pase “ AH FUCK Bucky please I’m sorry okay please” “Ah it’s to late for that doll but just promise me that no man will ever fuck you as good as I do right” he said as he smirked and continued to fuck you dumb on his member “Ah shit yes babe yes I’m yours no one will ever fuck me as good as you do” you moaned out with your face red in pain soon turned pleasure “see not so hard he said as he slowed done and spat on his fingers as he lathered his cock ip and shoved it all balls deep again.

As the room was filled with the sounds of desperate moans and skin slapping skin “fuck who’s ass is this huh who fucks you this good huh doll just taking me in all” Bucky questioned you as he got closer and got ahold of your neck as his cold metal hand only increased your state of arousal “you do buck only you fuck I’m gonna cum soon” your moaned out breathlessly “I’m not sure about that baby doll you gonna promise to stop slitting yourself out with idiots” he asks you as he was still jamming into you “yes I promise just please help me cum” you begged and pleaded to him “That works for me” he said to you and reached down to kiss you as he begun to pump as your cock with his hand as that sent you over the edge.

“Ah fuckk buck” you moaned out as you wrapped your hands around Bucky’s back certainly leaving marks on him “ah fuck yeah doll I’m cumming” he yelled out as he exploded inside you as you both were left a panting mess as his cum leaked out of you and you covering his hand and chest of your cum.

“Fuck doll I’m sorry but you know how I get” you said sadly “No don’t worry baby I loved it I love you okay” you said giving him a kiss as you both dosed off in each others embrace and Bucky still inside you.

[yanderefarm]

yandere!king x prince!reader part 2

cw;; manipulation?

here we go... more emil content. this one goes out to u emil lovers. i promise I'll give him more content including a part 3

"marry me. or die."

those words bring a chill into the room, their weight heavy on your chest. your eyes widen in horror as it really settles in exactly what that insane man is asking of you. your mind wanders to your sister and you wonder if she ever felt this soul crushing weight when she first got his proposal.

finally you will yourself to speak. "is that allowed? we're both men."

the king hums in response, his pen tapping idly against your father's desk. "you need not worry about the details. all you have to do is agree."

you dropped your gaze to your lap, feeling the shiver climb up your skin. "...i want more information."

emil's head tilted to the side curiously. "and if I don't want to give it to you?"

your thumbs twiddle as your brain grapples for words. you know that you have no power here, you possess nothing that he cannot take with force. while you want to at least get his promise not to hurt your family you know that without power of your own nothing stops him from doing whatever he wants. he has a stacked deck. you can feel tears start to well in your eyes but you force yourself to stop. you take in a deep breath.

"you can do as you please. i can also do as i please." you finally speak, your voice clearly hesitant.

"oh? but I thought you loved your family." he put down his pen, his full attention on you.

"yes, i do. i will do whatever it takes to keep them safe and nothing more." you forced your chest forward holding yourself tall.

emil got up from the desk, his eyes not leaving you for a moment as he made his way to your side. each footstep was deafening like thunder shaking you to your bones. it felt like an overwhelming force putting pressure on your chest, trying to crush you under him. when he finally reached your side it was hard to breathe and you were shaking despite all your attempts to steel yourself. his long fingers slipped under your chin before jerking your head to meet his gaze.

"then you'll marry me...?" he said it like a question but you both knew it wasn't.

"if that's what it takes."

his thumb ran out over your bottom lip. "if I demand more of you?"

"i will do everything you demand and nothing more."

you had clearly drawn a line in the sand. if you had to marry him it would be a loveless marriage where you gave him the bare minimum. truly Emil would have preferred that from that other woman but now with you and your blatant denial of your affection...

"if i demand your love?"

"...i will do my best to act like a loving husband."

his hand gripped your jaw firmly as he bent down to get his face inches from your own. "i don't want you to play pretend."

you swallowed hard, losing your resolve more by the moment.

before you could speak; "i want a kiss."

"wh-what???" you stared at him like you weren't sure you heard him correctly.

"i want you to kiss me like you love me."

emil pulled his hand away with a smug smile on his face, content that he had made you drop your bravado. he barely resisted laughing at your silence. meanwhile you were still shaking, fear and adrenaline pumping through your body. you were keenly aware that he was mocking you, he didn't expect you to go through with it. you stood up from your spot, your shaking hands grabbed emil's broad shoulders and...

your faces jammed together roughly, noses squished against each other and your teeth pressing against each other's. not romantic. but you kissed him.

you went to pull back but he grabbed your shirt and pulled you back into a proper kiss. it was softer, a lot less nose crushing and teeth knocking. you could actually taste some kind of jam on his lips this time. it wasn't unpleasant.

emil practically threw you on the ground when he pulled away. you were expecting him to be smug about how you didn't do it right but when you looked at his face he was blushing and looking away from you. he was... embarrassed? it was kind of cute.

it wasn't exactly power but it gave you some feeling of ground to stand on. "if you promise my family's unconditional safety i can put forth more effort."

it was his turn to be silent as he tried to gather his bearings. he finally looked at you, a small smile on his lips. "is this what passes for leverage nowadays?"

"if it has value to you then it becomes leverage against you."

"spoken like a true ruler... should I draft up the contract?" his expression was more playful like he was talking to an equal.

"let's work on it together."

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Six becomes Five

Prev | Next

Contains spoilers for Episode 2 of Beast Yeast!

By the time you arrived back to the group, who were all struggling to process still the whiplash of the past half hour, the changes to the Silver Kingdom already began.

"The Faerie Cookies.." You whispered in horror, gently setting Pure Vanilla Cookie down as you finally shrunk down to your normal size. However, your old outfit stayed. "Shadow Milk Cookie.."

"Reader Cookie, you're one of the old heroes?" White Lily Cookie was the one to speak everything on everyone's mind, looking at you with confusion.

You lowered your head, shameful. "I am, yes. I'm sorry I never told any of you."

"Did you.. not want to come here?" Pure Vanilla Cookied asked, his voice softer than usual. "Is this why you were so hesitant..?"

You hesitated before nodding. "It was. But.. I knew that I couldn't let you guys go here alone."

Elder Faeire Cookie narrowed his eyes the smallest bit. "That is why you seemed so familiar. You've done a good job at hiding who you once were."

"My days as Sparkling Joy Cookie are over," you declared.

"But it has a nice ring.." Gingerbrave muttered as the group began forward.

As you began traversing through the now twisted kingdom, the inhabitants of the Silver Kingdom now jesters and clowns. Doing tricks, and seemingly not noticing anyone. Silverbell Cookie was particularly distraught, but Mercurial Knight Cookie made sure to help him stay focused.

It wasn't long, however, until Pure Vanils Cookie stumbled and placed a hand to his head. "Ah..!!!"

"Pure Vanilla Cookie?!" Your attention snapped to him in and instant, and the group halted. Your hands gently grasped his shoulders.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie... Are you alright...?!" White Lily Cookie gasped.

"I'm... alright.." He assured the both of you, leaning heavily against you. "Just a bit dazed, that's all.."

You hardly believed him, not with how his Soul Jam was pulsing. You eyed it warily, but decided not to say anything for the moment.

"If you're sure." You placed a hand to his back in comfort. He smiled gratefully.

"Well then, let's see.." A familiar voice chortled, and your jam ran cold. "I said hello to Pure Vanilla Cookie... That's one."

"Some Faeries... Two. Some teeny-tiny Cookies... Three."

Your scepter reformed in your hand, and you placed your arm in front of Pure Vanilla Cookie in a protective gesture. The rest of the group all quickly entered defensive positions.

"What's the next number? Six?" You could hear the grin in Shadow Milk Cookie's voice. "Oh! He he he! Seems like there's a special someone missing!"

"NO! Where is he? Where did he go? Aww, I was sure he'd be the first one to greet me when I'm free!"

You hardly paid attention to what was being said next, not even the outburst of Shadow Milk Cookie. You were too focused on figuring out just what your former friend's plan was. He had done something to Pure Vanilla, and you had no doubt about it. He always had an affinity for plays too.

It hit you like a train.

"He's going to put on a play." You spoke, and just as you realized, a giant stage appeared.

"Huh?! A giant stage?!" Gingerbrave gasped.

"What is he planning...?!" White Lily Cookie narrowed her eyes.

"Now...! Once upon a time, there were six amazing Cookies! Truly brilliant!"

Puppets of the Five Beasts and you popped up. While the Five Beasts were silhouettes, yours was completely colored in, with many details.

What stood out was the large and beautiful wings on your back, almost like a butterfly's. Your hair was long and sparkling, trailing off into mist at the ends. Your expression was full of joy, a wide smile on your face. A silver crown was drawn atop on your head, ordained with small gems, the colors of the other Beasts. Around your neck hung your petal-esque Soul Jam, sparkles surrounding it.

"However, there was one Cookie who was truly radiant and loving like no other! Sparkling Joy Cookie!"

The other puppets disappeared as your sole one remained. Rays resembling sunbeams danced around you, as did your puppet danced around.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was perfect in every way! They loved and they loved like no other, bringing joy to the little common Cookies of the world."

"However.. this love wasn't without its price, no no!"

Your puppet flew down and then came back up. It showed you on your knees, weeping. A large, grand, and quiet frankly scary puppet of a Witch appeared, her hands hovering over you.

"The Witches saw this kindness, and when the other five brilliant Cookies began to have their fun, they turned Sparkling Joy Cookie AGAINST THEIR TRUE LOVED ONES!!"

The outburst only made Gingerbrave's group flinch back, and you had a horrified look on your face.

"Ahem.. Apologies for that! Now, where were we.. Ah, yes!"

The puppets flipped, and their side profiles faced the audience now.

"Sparkling Joy Cookie was very resistant to the Witches' manipulation at first! 'No!' They cried. 'I won't! They've done nothing wrong. They're pure still!' But.."

The puppets changed, showing the Witch covering the puppet's eyes with her hands. "Sparkling Joy Cookie was only so strong.. and they fell to the whim of their creators.. aiding in the capture of their friends.."

You softened a bit, hearing how.. somber Shadow Milk Cookie was. As if he was truly saddened.

"And soon after, a tree was planted, and a foolish king rose to power.."

The stage vanished, as did the audience, and your group pressed forward.

"Reader Cookie, was what he said true?" Silverbell Cookie asked, his voice soft as he shot away some advancing puppets.

"Partly." You narrowed your eyes. "I was friends with them, once upon a time. I did help the Witches imprison them, but.. it was of my own will."

A new stage appeared, and a new puppet appeared, called the Fool-King. It wasn't hard to see how that was meant to represent. You tuned out that part until Gingerbrave asked Pure Vanilla if he was alright.

At his insistence that he was fine, White Lily Cookie shook her head. "Tell us... What did Shadow Milk Cookie tell you earlier...?"

With that, Pure Vanilla Cookie began to appear more frazzled. "He.. disguised himself as the Light of Truth. And spoke to me from the Dark Side of the Moon..."

You froze at that, your heart practically stilling. Shadow Milk Cookie.. could reach Pure Vanilla Cookie. He could try and lie to him.

Don't tell me you're just going to let that happen?

The familiar sound of your voice, if not a little more mature, tsked at you.

Some compassion you are, letting him suffer. Share me with him!

"Wh.. you can't be serious!" You whispered softly, your eyes wide. "That's too dangerous. What if Shadow Milk Cookie tries to corrupt us?"

I'm stronger than that, and so are you. Share me with him.

You bit your bottom lip, and Pure Vanilla Cookie rested a hand on your shoulder. "Reader Cookie?" He asked. "Are you alright-?"

He cut himself off when you spun to look at him and gently grabbed his hands. Your Soul Jam pulsed and a magic whipped out, forming a large bubble around the entire group.

"Huh?! Reader Cookie?!" Wizard Cookie clutched his staff.

Elder Faeire Cookie looked shocked. "This magic.."

You exhaled softly, and you resumed your old appearance once more. However, your wings were now visible, spread wide and grand.

"I have an idea on how to help you," you spoke, voice soft. "My only question is.. do you-"

"Yes." Pure Vanilla Cookie spoke, his voice soft and full of admiration. You blushed intensely. "I trust you, Reader Cookie."

You nodded and closed your eyes. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his. "Then stay calm.. and open your heart to me."

Familiar magic, radiant and ever-changing in color, began to swirl around you two. Your Soul Jam was glowing particularly bright. Your wings gently glistened in the light, and your hair grew to the length it once was.

A familiar light form from the magic. It zipped and swirled around, your laughter coming from it.

Oh, what love! What compassion!

With what sounded like a joyful laugh, it zipped over to the duo, spun around them, and then shot towards Pure Vanilla Cookie's Soul Jam.

The magic died down, and you let out an exhale. Then, you began to laugh softly. "That.. that worked! I didn't think it would..!"

"What was that?!" Wizard Cookie shouted, and you blushed sheepishly.

"I'm sure you saw that light.. that was the Light of Compassion in its purest form." You explained. Your form slowly began to shift back to the regular one you used. "It insisted that I share it with Pure Vanilla Cookie."

Said Cookie spared a glance at his Soul Jam, and there was a small petal pattern in the middle.

White Lily Cookie couldn't help a small smile. "It did mention something about love.."

"HAHA WHAT?" You laughed nervously. The barrier around the group fell, and you immediately rushed forward. "C'MON GUYS, LET'S GO GET SHADOW MILK COOKIE!"

Small bits of laughter came from the group, and Pure Vanilla Cookie felt a little lighter as he followed.

Well, hello there! What joy and love you hold in your heart..

The sound of your voice, yet more mature, echoed through his mind. Yet, as if like second nature, Pure Vanilla Cookie knew that it was the Light of Compassion.

Whenever that Shadow Milk Cookie comes back, trying to trick you, focus on me or Sparkling Joy Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie. We won't let him lead you astray!

"What you said.." He whispered softly. "About love. Did you mean it?"

Of course. It sounded almost amused. I do believe that you're the only one Sparkling Joy Cookie would show the full extent of their power to.

Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn't help but feel honored.

But, of course, that didn't last long.

Especially not when Elder Faeire Cookie was struck down.

taglist: @snail-noodle @average-crk-enjoyer @looking4userthatworks @ori-stole-the-cheese-again @sqiddgie @justalittledumb @ax0lotly @ihatemyselffromthestart-blog

CLIFFHANGERRR!!

[luvzshy]

Harmonious Nights

Summary: In the comfort of your shared home, you balance your passion for music with a playful relationship with Billie Eilish. As you navigate life together, you find inspiration in your creative space, while Billie adds her unique flair and support.

Word Count: Approximately 2,500 words.

Warnings: Fluff, humor, light angst, sarcasm.

The soft glow of the string lights hung above your home studio, creating an inviting atmosphere. The walls were adorned with framed posters of classic bands, and your drum kit took center stage. With a set of sticks in hand, you sat at the kit, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement as you prepared to dive into another session.

Just as the first beat reverberated through the room, the door creaked open, and in walked Billie Eilish. Her deep brown hair reflected the warm light, and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“What’s up, rockstar?” she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Gonna wake the neighbors again with your ‘drumming skills’?”

“Excuse me,” you shot back, rolling your eyes dramatically. “This is pure artistry you’re witnessing, Billie. Not everyone can appreciate the complexities of a paradiddle.”

Billie laughed, stepping further into the room. “Right, because the world is just dying to hear your ‘paradiddles’ at three in the morning.”

You chuckled, a grin spreading across your face. “Well, I’d argue it’s better than your midnight snack escapades, but we both know you wouldn’t survive without your stash of chips.”

“Oh, come on,” Billie retorted, mock offense in her tone. “I can’t help it if I have a refined palate. You know, potato chips are a culinary masterpiece.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you picked up the rhythm again, letting the beats flow. Billie watched for a moment, admiring the way you lost yourself in the music. It was one of the things she loved most about you—the passion, the way you poured everything into your art.

“Okay, but seriously,” Billie said, leaning against the wall, “do you think we could maybe jam together sometime? You know, I can actually sing.”

You paused, turning to her with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Sing? Billie, darling, you know you have to leave some talents for the rest of us mortals.”

Billie gasped, hand clutching her chest in mock horror. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’m an acclaimed artist.”

“An acclaimed artist who sings in the shower and has an entire album about being sad,” you quipped, laughter dancing in your eyes.

“Touché,” Billie replied, a chuckle escaping her lips. “But I can still hold my own against your drumming. Just wait till I unleash my hidden talent on you.”

“Hidden talent? What’s next, you’re going to tell me you can play the bagpipes too?”

She winked, pushing herself off the wall and stepping closer. “Only for very special occasions.”

“Great, now I’m worried about what ‘special occasion’ means,” you said, shaking your head.

You returned to the kit, letting the beat drive you, your heart swelling with inspiration. The comfortable banter between you and Billie was a rhythm of its own, a dance of love and playful irritation. As you played, you could feel her gaze on you, a warm presence that added a layer of support.

Suddenly, a beat dropped, and Billie couldn’t resist. She started to sway, a playful grin lighting up her face as she danced around the studio, teasingly mimicking exaggerated drum moves. “Look at me! I’m a drummer now!”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” you said, pausing to clap. “Truly, the world needed another self-proclaimed musician.”

“Careful,” she warned, stepping closer, “or I might just steal your thunder and become the next rock sensation.”

“Right. Billie Eilish: Drummer Extraordinaire. Just what the music industry needs.”

As the playful teasing continued, your focus shifted to the sounds of the outside world. You loved this quiet, suburban life—how it felt like a sanctuary, away from the chaos of fame and the relentless demands of the industry. Here, in your home, you could be yourself, sharing moments that felt genuine and unfiltered.

“Hey,” Billie said softly, breaking the playful tension, “what are you working on tonight? Any new beats?”

You sighed, pulling back slightly. “I’m trying to come up with something for my next project. I want it to feel… I don’t know, different. Like it’s something fresh.”

Billie stepped closer, resting her hands on the edge of the drum kit. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got? I could use a little inspiration myself.”

“Okay, but if you start judging my ‘paradiddles’ again, I’m kicking you out of the studio,” you replied, your tone light.

“Fair enough. Just don’t make me cry,” Billie shot back, a wink in her eyes.

With a mock salute, you returned to the drums, setting a new tempo. As you played, the rhythm enveloped you, and Billie’s presence transformed the atmosphere. You felt invigorated, the beats morphing into a flowing melody that echoed your shared life together.

Billie listened intently, her head nodding in time with the rhythm. “See? This is what I’m talking about,” she said, excitement bubbling in her voice. “You’ve got something special here!”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her encouragement wash over you. “Thanks, babe. It helps having you here. You always know how to inspire me.”

“I try,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice. “I mean, it’s not easy being this fabulous.”

“Fabulous? You’re practically dripping with sarcasm,” you retorted, laughter bubbling between you.

“Well, darling, if you can’t be fabulous, you might as well be funny.”

“Touché again,” you said, shaking your head with a grin. “You really have a knack for this.”

As the night wore on, you transitioned into a more relaxed vibe, exchanging playful banter and soft kisses in between beats. The drumsticks danced through the air, while Billie hummed melodies that floated through the room, blending with the sound of the drums.

Eventually, you found yourselves nestled on the couch, a comfortable pile of limbs and laughter. The warmth of your shared space wrapped around you like a blanket, and Billie rested her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“You know,” she murmured, “this is my favorite part of the day. Just being here with you, creating these moments.”

You glanced down, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I agree. There’s something magical about these nights.”

Billie lifted her head, her blue eyes shimmering with mischief. “But let’s be real, you just love that I’m here to keep you grounded, right?”

“Sure, that’s definitely the reason,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who wouldn’t want their rockstar girlfriend around to keep their ego in check?”

“Exactly! Just think of me as your personal assistant, but with pretty face.”

You both burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. In those moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you—lost in your cocoon of love and creativity.

[slayfics]

You and Katsuki exchange Christmas gifts.

You plopped down on your bed and let out an exhausted sigh. Most of your classmates were still in the common room enjoying the holiday party. It was nice to relax and not think about school or hero work for a bit, but after a while you found yourself worn out from so much energy.

As much as you enjoyed yourself it felt nice to be in the quiet of your room relaxing after the busy night. You began to get your bed ready to sleep when a knock on your door startled you.

You opened the door and were surprised to see Katsuki.

"Oh- hey," You greeted him.

"You left early," he observed.

"Yeah," you said stepping aside and allowing him to come into your room. "I guess I was just exhausted from all the socializing," You explained. Katsuki came in and sat on your chair as you shut the door.

"Hm- I get that," He replied.

That was when you noticed that he had a gift bag in his hand.

"Here-," Was all he said as an explanation as he held out the bag to you. Normally giving someone a gift is a sweet gentle gesture, but the intense glare in Katsuki's eyes contradicted his actions. "Take it already dumb ass," he said, shaking the gift at you.

You grabbed the gift and sat opposite of him on your bed, 'You didn't have to-," You began to say but were quickly interrupted.

"Don't give me that you didn't have to crap. Of course, I fucking didn't- but I did, so just open the stupid thing," He barked.

You knew better than to argue with Katsuki, so you took out the haphazardly placed tissue paper to reveal a shoe box. You looked at him curiously.

"Take em' out idiot," He said.

You took out the box and tossed off the lid revealing some hiking boots inside.

"Bakugo these look really expensive I can't-," You said but again found yourself interrupted.

"I'm not taking them back. You like that color right?"

"Yeah, I do- they are really nice but-,"

"No fucking buts. Now your dumb ass won't slip again when we go on hikes," He said.

Your face flushed from the embarrassing memory of when you fell, and because his words indicated he wanted to hike with you again.

"Tch- don't fucking look at me like that! Its... it's not even that big of a deal," He said and looked away from you.

You knew Katsuki enough by now to understand that he only had a rough demeanor because he felt awkward in these situations. Any grand show of emotions would send him running straight out of your room, so you bottled up how truly thankfully you felt and sufficed with a simple, "Thank you Bakugo."

"Yeah whatever," he grumbled jamming his hands into the pocket of his sweats.

"I um- sort of have something for you too," You spoke. You had made something for Katsuki but had debated on giving it to him or not. You found yourself too shy to give it to him tonight in front of the rest of your class, so you never brought it down from your room. However, now that he was in your room and had just given you such a thoughtful gift, you decided it was the perfect time.

"Hu?" He exclaimed shocked and snapped his head to look at you.

You grabbed the gift from under your bed and handed him a sadly wrapped gift.

"This is wrapped like shit," he said as grabbed it from you.

"Oh come on I tried my best. We can't all be naturally good at everything like you!" You teased.

Katsuki let out an amused puff of air as he tore at the wrapping paper. Once he revealed the gift he held it in his hands staring at it for what felt like entirely too long.

You began to feel self-conscious about your gift. It was a painting you made. The painting was a portrait of him in his hero costume, and at the top, you wrote the words "Future #1 Hero".

The longer Katsuki looked at it without saying anything the more you began to panic. You couldn't see his expression at all as his face was hidden by his spiky blond hair.

Shit, it was too dumb and cheesy, wasn't it?? And how cocky of you to think your artwork would constitute a gift.

"If you hate it it's ok! I wasn't even sure I was going to give it to you. Here, it's fine you can just forget about it!" You said nervously and tried to grab at the painting.

Katsuki's grip tightened on the painting as you tried to pull it away, "No!" he barked causing you to jump.

You sat down confused and Katsuki cleared his throat but didn't look up at you yet.

"It's good," He said in a low raspy voice.

You titled your head. Sometimes it was still so hard to read Katsuki's true emotions.

Katsuki stared at the painting trying to get ahold of himself. To see the words at the top "Future #1 Hero" struck something in him that he was trying to push back down. He didn't want to be so vulnerable in front of you but- to see and hold in his hands that someone else was rooting for him meant more to him than he would ever be able to say in words to you.

Finally, he was able to blink away the sting in his eyes that threatened tears. He could hold it back long enough to look at you again.

"I like it," He spoke, giving you not quite a smile- but not a scowl. Which was rare.

"You don't have to lie," you respond.

"I don't lie brat," He said and stood up, eager to leave as the lump in his throat threatened to return again at any more kindness from you.

"You're leaving?" You asked.

"Hm? Yeah- it's late. Looks like I interrupted you going to bed too," He said nodding to your half-turned-down comforter.

"It's fine... you know you're welcome any time..." You said softly.

Katsuki didn't respond but let out a grunt in acknowledgment.

You followed him to the door as he began to open it.

"Bakugo wait-," You said before you lost your nerve to follow through with your impulsive thought.

Katsuki turned around and you quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Merry Christmas."

"Yeah- merry whatever to you too," He said and turned to leave, a small blush on his cheeks.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle

[whiskeyskin]

With you

Premise: Astarion's unusually tense this morning while fiddling with his new armour, Tav stays behind to witness the show. A few truths need to be said ⚔️🖤

Astarion x gn!Tav (you) • No spice • Act 3

Frustration, snarky remarks, playful banter, serious turn, friendship, regressing to his old self, assurance, understanding

1.3k words

Thanks to @ancuninae for this stunning picture of our soft, sad boy ✨

_____________________________

"C'mon, Soldier! Gale and Wyll are already downstairs." Calls Karlach from the doorway.

"Two minutes, meet us in the bar." You reply clipping on your cape.

"If I'm drunk by the time you come down, it's not my fault." She laughs, exiting with her great axe swung over her shoulder.

It was just you and Astarion left in the room, and he was having trouble with his new armour they'd purchased from the Stormshore. The chest plate and the shoulder pauldrons were a little fiddly, even for his dexterous hands.

"Would you like some help?" You offer, gesturing lazily with an amused smile, "Not that watching you struggle isn't entertaining."

Astarion rolls his eyes, "Oh, shut up." Only half meaning the venom spat from it.

You hold your hands up in mock surrender, smiling and lean a shoulder into the door jam. Astarion returns the smile through faux sneer and continues to pick at the straps.

You sigh to yourself, settling to wait.

It had been difficult at first, sticking to just friendship between you. Not that you regretted the offer to him, not when he'd taken to it with such surprise and gratitude. You'd truly grown to be good friends.

There was an ease between you now; a chemistry that had nothing to do with sex.

The banter was still flirtatious, as was in his nature, but he was so much kinder than he gave himself credit for. Funnier too.

Now that he knew that your relationship was based on truth, not lies or seduction, there'd been a settling change in him.

Although, now you were all back in the city, he was definitely showing signs of regressing; sharper tongue, easily irritated, head spinning on a copper at unexpected noise. Reminiscent to the scared animal you'd found near the beach that day; cautious, jittery and closed off.

Not that you could blame him, he was most probably terrified at the prospect of being so close to the source of all his pain.

He slept close to you, often in the same bunk. Maybe that offered him some comfort, you weren't sure.

You could tell there was something he was keeping back though. Something that was eating at him, something that he wouldn't admit to and whenever you tried to broach the subject it would always twist and turn back to taking Cazador's power. He'd get defensive, you'd get exasperated and nothing of substance would be said.

You watch him continue to struggle, tongue slightly poking through his fangs, a look of true concentration on his face. A snort of laughter escapes you but he ignores it.

You would defeat Cazador and you would do it together. All of you together. The ties that bound your merry little group were deeper than the tadpole now, and you hoped that he knew that.

After another few agonising moments, he huffs loudly, "Well, go on then."

You raise your brows, unmoving, waiting for a proper invitation.

Again, he huffs.

"Please will you help me?" He says flatly, one hip popped.

"Of course." You reply through a soft smile.

Kicking off your heel, you walk towards him, pulling off your gloves as you go and tucking them into your belt. He shortens the distance by meeting you in the middle, the morning light from the large window spilling over the both of you.

You manoeuvre him to lean against the table, so you could see better with him at a lower level.

He'd gotten himself into such a mess, you openly frown. You start feeling around to undo clasps attached to the wrong hooks, and belts woven incorrectly through loops.

"What have you done to yourself?" You question, tone light with humour.

His jaw clenching, he refused to look at you.

You take a second to straighten yourself and your swelling need to chastise him for his grumpiness.

"It's not weakness to ask for help." You state, plainly.

"I know that." He shot out, brow furrowed.

You blink hard to supress a biting retort.

"And it's not polite to be rude to the person that does help."

He huffs again.

"For someone who doesn't need to breathe, you're certainly full of enough of hot air." You snip, playfully.

"It's this new bloody armour. I told Shadowheart my armour was fine." His lips jutt out in frustration.

"It's not the armour. I mean, it's not helping the cause but it's not that." You say, knowingly.

"Oh, please enlightened one, do tell me what it is." His tone dripping with sarcasm.

You continue to fiddle with the straps and clips, keeping calm in the face of his bad mood.

"The problem isn't out here, but in there," You tap his forehead, he blinks at the touch. He looks intently at your eyes, before your gaze drops back to his armour; flitting back to his intermittently to emphasize your points. You pull the straps through the buckles and the clips into their housing hooks, as you continue.

"You're so worried and stressed about being back in the city - rightly so - but turning on the people that want to be there for you, isn't the way forward. I don't know if you're doing it on purpose, or that you're unaware that your steadily defaulting back to your old ways the longer we spend here, but it's going to take a lot more to push them away."

You move to attach the other side, "And it's going to take all the Hells combined to keep me from being there with you when it all goes to shit. I'm with you, and it's staying that way. Whether it's waiting for you to put on armour, or if it's facing down a Vampire Lord. I'm not going anywhere."

You pull the last strap tight with a yank, it jostles him but his eyes remain transfixed on yours. You meet his gaze and sigh, and gently slap your hands to rest on the silver pauldrons.

"Alright." It wasn't a question.

A pregnant moment passed, filled with more to say but it wasn't your turn to speak.

His crimson eyes gaze up at you in a mix of wonder and fear, gratitude and worthlessness. His brows twitch inwards and without warning he surges forward and crashes his lips to yours.

His hand slides up the length of your neck into your hair, cupping and fisting the back of your head, the other snaking it's way around your waist to press against your back.

You seize, your hands remain stilled on his shoulders. Shock short-circuits your system as you feel Astarion's lips against yours and for a moment, you feel yourself kiss him back.

Giving in to the feeling, the desire, the need. The want to be with him entirely. To show him all the love that he deserves. To drown in each other until both of you are spent.

Then as soon as it was there, it was gone.

You break the kiss, pushing him back by his shoulders, enough to get some space between you both.

Claret eyes look up at you, unsure.

You barely shake your head, "You don't need to do that. I'm with you. With YOU. Not that. Not for that."

There's a moment, a moment that stretches between you, unsure of what path it takes.

The tension between you, whatever it was, whether it was sexual or not, dissipates. Your bodies relax and his hold on you relinquishes.

"Don't.." You whisper softly, "Don't.."

He looked ashamed, sheepish. He knows what he'd done. He'd proven your point. Reverting back to his seductive ways to get want he wanted.

But he already had it.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, one that reaches a warmth of understanding to your eyes.

He knew what he'd done. You knew it didn't need to be compounded.

"Let's go." You tap twice, the metal of your rings clinking against his armoured shoulders.

He nods, "Lead the way." He replies, his usual flowery lilt gone, "My homecoming is long overdue."

•°•°•

Y'all want something a lil' spicer? 👀😏 There's plenty to amuse over on my Masterlist

[pucksandpower]

Lewis Hamilton x Queen of Latin Music!Reader - Social Media AU

lewishamilton posted a story

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, antonelaroccuzzo, and 2,746,583 others

yourusername temporada de fresas 🍓

(Translated from Spanish: strawberry season 🍓)

View all 18,096 comments

lewishamilton delicious

y/nupdates excuse me, sir???

lh44updates did you see what lewis posted on his story a few minutes before this?

y/nupdates oh my god 😵‍💫 if this is a coincidence, i’ll eat my hat

f1wagupdates no way it’s a coincidence because this is textbook soft launching

lh44updates imagine if they made the jam together?

f1wagupdates this might mean that they’re living together or at least staying over

latingossip “lewis” this, “hamilton” that … why is no one talking about the fact that this is directly shading her ex?

yourfanclub i love that y/n is sneakily calling ruiz out by using strawberry jam considering it’s sort of the reason why she broke up with him in the first place

y/nupdates it’s so poetic

yourfanclub especially taken into context with lewis’ story 🤭

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, neymarjr, and 2,941,685 others

lewishamilton Feeling beyond blessed on my birthday 🙏🏽 Thank you for filling my heart with love, joy, and the most incredible music. Here’s to another year of embracing the magic of life ❤️🎵

View all 17,328 comments

yourusername happy birthday, my love! you are a blessing in my life each and every day. i will always be eternally grateful for the endless love and happiness you bring into my heart

georgerussell63 THERE’S A SHE-WOLF IN THE CLOSET

charles_leclerc are you okay, mate?

georgerussell63 OPEN UP AND SET IT FREE (AH-OOH)

alex_albon he’s still a little starstruck

georgerussell63 THERE’S A SHE-WOLF IN THE CLOSET

landonorris i think the party broke him

georgerussell63 LET IT OUT SO IT CAN BREATHE

f1wagupdates they are finally official 👀

latingossip not like they’ve really tried to hide that they’re together but it’s definitely still nice to get confirmation

y/nupdates i hope everyone who got to see her perform appreciates how lucky they are 😭

yourfanclub i would have given my firstborn to be invited 🫣

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, badgalriri, and 9,852,416 others

yourusername “slipstream” with XNDA is out now! hope you guys love it ❤️

“slipstream” con XNDA disponible ya! espero les guste ❤️

View all 179,532 comments

lewishamilton my inspiration and motivation 😘

yourusername the reason my heart sings 🥰

f1wagupdates they’re actually the cutest

y/nupdates who is XNDA? his voice is so familiar but i’ve never heard of him before

hamilfan44 XNDA is just the stage name that lewis uses for his music

y/nupdates for real? he’s so talented!

lh44updates the fact that lewis used to be insecure about his rapping and now he’s proudly featured on a song with his girlfriend 🥹

Comments

⤷ Wait … did I just hear that correctly? Did Lewis call Y/N his wife?

⤷ He said it so naturally that I didn’t even realize until you pointed it out 😳

⤷ It’s definitely a surprise but I absolutely love them together! They are so much happier with each other

⤷ This is a bombshell considering they never even officially announced they were engaged in the first place

⤷ Who can blame them for wanting to keep it private after so much of their lives has been aired to the public? This just goes to show that they are well and truly in love

⤷ I hope this means we continue to get more music collabs from them

yourusername and lewishamilton

Liked by mercedesamgf1, billboard, and 12,586,734

yourusername and lewishamilton racing against the world, our love’s the finish line 💍

View all 183,625 comments

mercedesamgf1 congratulations to our favorite paddock couple! wishing you a lifetime of happiness and success together

georgerussell63 i’m not even mad because they’re my favorite paddock couple too

carmenmmundt honestly same

billboard congrats! we can’t wait to see the hamilton-y/l/n family expand (and by that we mean new music of course 😉)

f1wagupdates what do you know that we don’t?

lh44updates i’m not sure what i want more: for them to release a new song collab or for them to have the most adorable baby ever

y/nupdates why not both?

Liked by yourusername and lewishamilton

y/nupdates umm are you guys seeing this???

donatella_versace so stunning, my darlings! thank you for giving me the honor of designing your wedding dress (and roscoe’s tux) 🩷

formulanone when a dog gets to wear something that costs more than your rent 🫠

paddockstyle roscoe is a fashion icon just like his father

[felassan]

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 2. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Three]

The dev team really wanted to deliver on Emmrich's romance [source]

Sylvia Feketekuty has now left BioWare so there are likely some things she can't answer now "just because I can't look them up with certainty anymore" [source]

When Emmrich is first introduced, he has a skull helmet. Why does it never ever appear for the next 40-100 hours? "The helmet does indeed look wicked! I believe it actually shows up on his shelf in the Lighthouse eventually. (If I had been a smarter writer I would've asked if we could have it appear again, that one's on me.)" [source]

User: "In another post you mentioned shops in Nevarra City near the Necropolis. How far IS Nevarra City itself is from the Necropolis? Do only senior MWs get to go?" / Sylvia: "I'm reluctant to say what the distance is since I never defined it in game so it's Unknown™. But I imagine they can either walk or take a carriage, depending. Also I never imagined junior MWers are forbidden from going into town or such. It could be they have set hours and times where they're allowed. But got to get all those chores done first..." [source, two]

On the DA:I goat scene ([link]) - "The GOAT! God bless them, that was a delight." [source]

Brian J. Audette, on [this thread] - ""Better late than never" addendum to this thread. I just noticed that Isle of the Gods' writer Sylvia is on here now and I'd be remiss not to tag her in this thread. I can't say enough wonderful things about having worked with Sylvia on this mission." [source] / Sylvia: "Thanks Brian! You tackled an absolutely jam-packed mission with aplomb." [source]

Jo Berry: "Thank you for everything and everything else, on both Veilguard and Inquisition. Sunlight on your road, wherever it goes." [source] / Sylvia: "Thank YOU for all your writing Jo. Seriously, you were a godsend on Veilguard and DAI both." [source]

Trick Weekes: "It's been fantastic working with you, Sylvia, and I know you're going to crush it with whatever you do next. Thank you for finally letting me make you "the person who has to do journals so Trick doesn't" on one of our projects." [source] / Sylvia: "Thank you Trick! I'll miss working with you. It was an honour to finally be given the awesome responsibility of the journal system that still haunts my dreams." [source]

John Epler: "sylvia did you see i told the world Emmrich sleeps standing up like a horse" [source] / Sylvia: "It's days later but: yes. Yes I did." [source]

User: "As someone who also has a truly debilitating fear of death, Emmrich is so special to me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it represented in such a clear and concise way." / Sylvia: "Thanks, definitely felt that fear myself. I really wanted to express it clearly and was hoping would resonate with others." [source]

User: "Do you have any thoughts or opinions on what nickname Emmrich might have gotten from Varric if he'd ever gotten one?" / Sylvia: "Oh man that's a good question, but ultimately since I didn't write Varric, that must remain a mystery. Nicknames can only be bestowed. ("Bones" like someone suggested below is funny though.)" [source]

User: "If Emmrich's hobby is alchemy/plants, Vorgoth's is art, and Audric's is architecture... what's Myrna's? (Next to Emmrich, she's my favorite Watcher - sorry Vorgoth!)" / Sylvia: "Myrna has a one off line, you may not have heard it yet, where she talks to Vorgoth about getting tickets to the Sword of Drakon.* She enjoys a night out at the theater, whether it's a play or an opera. *(I think that's the play I named, I hope I'm recalling my own line haha.) It's a bit indulgent of me, but I chose Sword of Drakon because it was one of the plays I made up for a series of codices in DAI about Orlesian theater. I had a lot of fun with these and wanted to give them life once more. [link]" [source, two]

User: "During Rook’s disappearance in the prison, how did Emmrich react? Considering their intense romance, did he fall into depression, or did he show a more vulnerable side? Could his fear of death have influenced the situation? In the immortal romance💀, Emmrich promises that nothing will separate them, not in this world or any other. How likely is that? Would he go to great lengths for Rook, even crossing boundaries? Or, at some point, would he accept Rook's death?" / Sylvia: "1) Very strongly! I think it's a bit more interesting if I leave details to your imaginations, but Emmrich feels things deeply and probably had some sleepless nights. 2) So this I can't say much on even though it's a juicy topic. The truth is, I wouldn't even know unless I was actually sitting down to write it. Again, Emmrich feels things very passionately, but this is the kind of scenario where I might want the player's choices to have an effect." [source, two]

User: "Any chance that color scheme [of Emmrich's coat] was based off the corpse flower?" / Sylvia: "I couldn't find anything on the colour scheme and the corpse flower. Afraid this one's a mystery to me." [source]

User: "I'm really curious if there's a Nevarrese language? We have Orlesian, Antivan, Tevene, Qunlat..." / Sylvia: "I wondered that myself, especially given its ancient ties with Tevinter and also Orlais which would certainly have affected the languages of power and influence. Could also have roots with the Planasene. We never talked about one though, as far as I know, so the answer remains...unknown. 💀 (I did introduce tomb-script, the language you see etched into stone in the Necropolis, but I thought of it as more of a specialist's language for occult and magical things specifically.) (If we did define a Nevarran language in some corner of the lore, now I'm going to feel embarrassed, but I don't BELIEVE we did.)" [source, two, three]

User: "I wanted to ask if you have anything you can share about MW grave dowry jewellery - is it the sort of thing they keep on at all times? Also, would Emmrich like jewellery gifts or give them to Rook?" / Sylvia: "I figured it would be something they wear most of the time, or at least in public. You don't want to be without your grave-gold if you pass away! Emmrich would love to get jewellery, especially if it marked a special occasion like his other pieces do! He'd also probably like to gift Rook a piece of grave gold himself, though he knows a non-MW Rook might look at that part askance." [source, two]

User: "Question: how much if anything can you tell us about the circumstances surrounding the emergence of Emmrich's magic and him going to the Mourn Watch? In my mind, his parents' death could certainly be a catalyst for the emergence of mage powers, but I'm so curious why the butcher's boy goes to what seems the equivalent of Nevarran Harvard instead of a regular Circle unless he immediately demonstrated outstanding ability?" / Sylvia: So timeline wise, I think his magic manifested after he was taken in. This part isn't canon, so much as a background thought I had that maybe the spirits of the Necropolis nudged the MW to scoop up this future corpse-whisperer. It seems like a kind of place ripe for that sort of omen. That said, it could've also been a kindhearted Watcher who saw how shattered and alone this young boy was, and thought an upbringing in the Grand Necropolis would be the better place to deal with his grief. It's the kind of thing I want to leave open unless someone goes back one day to fill it out!" [source, two]

User: "what’s the overall Mourn Watch opinion on the whole Weekend at King Markus’s the other Mortalitasi are pulling? I can’t blame Emmrich for not wanting to be involved with that political mess!" / Sylvia: "No clue what you're talking about. King Markus is in the finest of health!!!!! ahahahahaha (To my mind Emmrich's response indicates a tension between the orders, but that they're going along with the polite fiction to avoid a mess. I can't say what the future holds though.)" [source]

User: "Ah, one last note: whoever decided “DA liches are immortal protectors and not always evil?” Chef’s kiss. It’s all I’ve ever wanted!" / Sylvia: "Thanks again! It was in Emmrich's first draft. The other writers and editors gave me good feeback on lichdom and the philosophy behind it especially" [source]

User: "I'm an ICU nurse, and that is imagined to confer a comfort with mortality. Suffice to say Emmrich has been a huge comfort to see." / Sylvia: "Thanks so much. I really wanted him to struggle with it while also engaging with it, because it's something I find hard as well. And I hoped it would find purchase with players." [source]

User: "If you’re willing, can you share a bit about the other orders within the Mortalitasi? Is there a rivalry with the Tevinter Imperium?" / Sylvia: I'm afraid I don't have much, sorry. I left the other Mortalitasi orders a big open canvas in case we wanted to invent more some day. (We've mentioned the palace Mortalitasi are separate from the Mourn Watch, so there's one. As you probably caught, Emmrich's not a fan of theirs.) Is there a rivalry with the Tevinter Imperium? I can't really point to anything in the game talking about that, so I hesitate to call it canon. But to my mind it would be very natural and also very funny. So if that ever manifests, I approve." [source, two]

User: "was any of Emmrich's design or personality modeled on British actor David Niven? I think there is resemblance just wondering if that was intentional." / Sylvia: "Oh I love David Niven. But the more direct actor influence for me was Peter Cushing in a few old Hammer Horror films." [source]

User: "just wanted to say thank you for creating the character of Josephine in Inq!! Helped me learn some stuff about myself when I was younger and meant a lot." / Sylvia: "Thank you so much on all counts! I'm glad the lovely Lady Montilyet was there for you (and enormous credit to her actor, Allegra Clark. She absolutely nailed Josephine, straight away.)" [source]

User, on Emmrich: "He mentions he thought he would marry - is that permitted for Mortalitasi when it wasn't for regular Circle mages? Can they now raise their own children?" / Sylvia: Mortalitasi have a lot of power. I imagine the Nevarran Chantry might grant them permission to marry outside the Circle more regularly than in places where mages are given less respect. (Mages can also marry within Circles, so no permission needed in those cases.) The same might be true for mages raising mage-born children in Nevarra, but I say that with less certainty. I think that's a topic I would've wanted to discuss with the rest of the narrative team." [source, two]

User: "is there a particular reason why emmrich is always wearing a glove on one hand?" / Sylvia: "I like to think it's mostly because he works a lot with his hands. The glove seems useful if he has to, say, grip a rough outcrop of rock when traversing the Necropolis, or deal with a bitey corpse." [source]

User, on Emmrich: "On my 1st run I played a trans Rook and romanced him. It felt incredible how he was so accepting of Rook's identity, and in return she could support him as he did a transition of his own as well. Beautiful mirroring!" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much! If those scenes worked, it's thanks to some people at work who kindly gave feedback that helped get the tone right." [source]

User: "I've been wanting to thank you for writing Luck in the Gardens for 4 years. Hollix was the first time I ever saw a non-binary character given a real voice." / Sylvia: "I loved writing Hollix in that story, they were a treat, and I'm glad they meant a lot to you. (And a shout out to a nb friend who gave me some good feedback on the character, I don't think the story would've been as clear without their help.)" [source]

User: "I was curious about Audric from TN, and if he originally was planned to have an appearance in veilguard, and what he's up to now" / Sylvia: "Love Audric, but I never planned to bring him into VG. I'm not AGAINST it, but I didn't want the short stories to feel like required reading for the game, and I liked where his arc ended in DatDM. That said, I dropped in a few references to Audric to let people know he's around and well. And I imagine he's doing what he loves: being a force of order, in the library. (And reading books during the more quiet hours below.)" [source, two]

User: "As a consumer of (and probably future creator of) so called "erotic" fanficfion, I'm wondering how you feel about the fact that fans make it about a character you created?" / Sylvia: "No issues with it whatsoever. We put sex and romance into the game itself, after all. I think people use fan art and fanfiction to extend their time with a story they've grown fond of, or to figure things out. So it feels like a natural extension of that." [source]

User: "Maybe one day my rook will join the mw!" / Sylvia: "Well, the Grand Necropolis is always eager for more company...🪦👻" [source]

User: "did the flame eternal (short story) come first or the flame eternal (quest)? i’ve been wondering if the quest was named after the story or vice versa" / Sylvia: "I wrote the scene first, the short story came after. But I named the quest AFTER the short story had come out, so I'd say the quest is named for the story because I liked the callback." [source]

User: "1.I know John answered already that Emmrich sleeps like a horse but is there really no bed for this man? 2.How would he react to a bouquet made for him?" / Sylvia: "1. Unknown. Perhaps he brings out pillows and a blanket for the slab in his room (after scrubbing it, of course!) Perhaps he goes home to an elaborate silk-covered bed in his Necropolis apartments. Or the horse thing. (TBH: I never decided myself, so I've leaned into impish mystery). 2. Emmrich would be absolutely delighted and flattered by being presented with a flower bouquet." [source, two]

User: "I hope it's okay to pop here but it might interest you to know a lot of us have been headcanoning that he has a secret bedroom behind one of his bookshelves! It seemed to line up with his sensibilities somewhat." / Sylvia: "That would honestly be great. Pull out the right book and snooze time." [source]

User, on the cemetery date: "This makes me feel like Mourn Watchers include the dead in important personal milestones/events and, if so, I love that so much. Like they want to share these events and the joy/love/excitement/etc. with those who have passed (and perhaps linger.)" / Sylvia: "That's absolutely how I thought of it too." [source]

User: "was there any game/book/show/film that inspired the Mourn Watch and Emmrich? When I saw them in the preview content, I got reminded of the Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir and playing through the game cemented those vibes." / Sylvia: "I hadn't read any Locked Tomb when writing Emmrich, I think we must both just have impeccable taste. (I actually tried to stay away from contemporary stuff on necromancy when writing him, out of a superstitious fear I'd be unduly influenced. I do want to talk about influences later though!)" [source]

User, on Josie: "Do you think she’s open to having kids/adopting with the Inquisitor? Lord Ontranto and Yvette are so ahead!" / Sylvia: "I think that falls firmly within the category of what you imagine she and your Inquisitor's romance looks like, which means: absolutely, if that's where you imagine life would take them." [source]

User: "Emmrich, his story & everything surrounding him absolutely played a huge part in helping to lift me up & connecting me with new friends online" / Sylvia: "Thank you! And I'm very glad to hear Emmrich and his fellow Watchers helped you out when you needed it. He'd be pleased to know so himself." [source]

User: "Was it ever considered for him to appear in the game?" / Sylvia: "(short answer is no, but I wanted to let people know Audric's doing well.)" [source]

User: "I enjoyed your short stories in Tevinter Nights. Emmrich mentioned working out in the morning. What does his morning routine look like, and what kind of exercise does he do?" / Sylvia: "Thanks so much! Those stories have a special place in my heart, so that's especially nice to hear. On exercise: He likes a brisk stroll, and does morning stretches, and for something more strenuous, he likes to go swimming. Why? It's a workout where you don't have to worry about sweating. That just seemed to align with his fastidiousness in a funny way to me. (I also imagine exploring the Necropolis keeps him active, climbing all those stairs and crumbling ledges and the outsized walls of hallowed tombs, etc.)" [source, two]

User: "Harding will turn to a MW Rook who's been talking nerdy necro shop with Emmrich, and goes (paraphrasing), "You're so different when you're talking about this stuff than you are when you hang out with us!" and I loved that" / Sylvia: "Yes indeed! And thanks. I really wanted a beat where you realize MW Rook has learned to swap between being a fancy nerd and talking a bit more like "regular" people in Thedas. It seemed like a fun trait for that background." [source]

Sylvia, on how she came to BioWare: "No formal training. The closest to practice I had was running tabletop RPGs for friends, which actually helped me a lot with understanding the different kind of RPG players out there and what people want out of a story. And honestly: I just kept applying, over and over. That was my main virtue. I was rejected the first couple times I applied to BW. And rightly, I think, I wasn't ready and practicing in between really helped me become a stronger writer." [source, two]

Some more on this topic ^ from Sylvia: "To be honest: mostly luck, some perseverance, and then writing skills, in that order. I was rejected at least twice from BW before I got in, and I think they were right to do so. I wasn't ready yet. The third round someone I knew passed on my sample to a writer there, I did two more rounds of samples while taking feedback and revising over the next month. And then I was lucky enough they liked it enough to interview me. I wish I had better advice than perseverance. I think having a small, completed game, even something text based or a mod, isn't bad either. Even if it's short, it shows you finished it. But: my entry was over 15 years ago now, and to be honest I'm not sure what BW's applicant process are anymore. I don't want to be discouraging though. I would say keep applying, and make friends with like minded people who also want to make games, and best of luck." [source, two, three, four]

User: "I've been wondering something about Mourn Watch Rook's background - their bio says they were found as a baby + raised by the MW, and they reference it in-game, but then they also say they were a street kid and left their old life behind to join the MW to Taash. I'm just curious how one - being raised by the MW - lead to the other - street kid era. I just hc'd it as a euphemism for my Rook's party girl phase lol but it did leave me a little confused." / Sylvia: "This is a case of the background changing slightly over time, and me not squaring it in time with dialogue. In my mind: MW IS found by the Mourn Watch, raised by them, and work for them. But MW Rook also had period(s?) growing up where they explored Nevarra city, to explain why they're more. street savvy and worldly than your typical Watchers who never leave the city. I've seen people noting some discrepancies, and in a perfect world I would've caught those lines in time to smooth them out to encompass the whole story. But perhaps your Rook gives slightly different answers to different people for their own, mysterious reasons! (Or, in reality, it's writer error.)" [source, two, three] "Anyhow, I encourage any head canons that help square these discrepancies" [source]

User: "I romanced him on a Rook that I perceived as about 42ish and my running interpretation of the lines acknowledging her being young were either Emmrich not realizing how old she is, a running bit between them, or some cute form of flattery to not remind her of her own age haha" / Sylvia: "That's adorable, I love it" [source]

User: "1. What would Josie's ideal date be? 2. Could adopted kids be heir of the Montilyet estate or would it go to Yvette? 3. What does Josie think of the Crows?" / Sylvia: "1. I think she'd try to structure something, but the Inquisitor taking her away from her strictly scheduled routine to relax would actually be better for her. A picnic in a garden, a stroll around a lake followed by a meal in a quiet little restaurant. Something with a soft evening. 2. I don't think I ever said so in the game, but to my mind Josephine had some nieces and nephews in line to be heir. If she adopted a child and thought they'd be a better candidate, they could absolutely inherit the estate. (And of course, she could bequeath money or personal effects as she liked.) 3. She thinks of them as a necessity in Antiva, and that it's important to appease them. There's probably highly placed Crows she would get along with. But she'd never be comfortable with them. At the end of the day they're contract killers, and she's no lover of violence. (If I actually DID mention who Josephine had lined up to inherit the estate after her, but just forgot, I will ask for mercy because the game came out over 10 years ago.)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "Would you ever consider making a playlist on spotify of the sort of music you could picture Emmerich listening to? Or perhaps sharing any of the music you listened to while writing Emmrich?" / Sylvia: "I actually have an itunes playlist of what I listened to when writing Emmrich on my old computer. If I dig it out, I'll post a screenshot! (A lot of ambient stuff, probably unsurprisingly)" [source]

User: "I utterly, completely adore the way Josephine was written, she's such a wonderful and complex character. Her history as a bard, her ruthlessness, her kindness and sweet nature and how CUTE her romance is." / Sylvia: "Lady Montilyet herself would be flattered to hear you liked it." [source]

User, on Sylvia's comment about Peter Cushing being a go-to for what Emmrich would be like: "This makes me so unbelievably happy given my love for Peter Cushing 😭 my love for Emmrich was inevitable." / Sylvia: "I want to talk a little more about it later but Cushing was such a wonderful actor. Wish we'd had him around even longer." [source]

User, on death and working in death care: "In the end, it’s always about memory." / Sylvia: "That's so true. We want to be remembered, or to have something that lets people know even a little about who we are. (It's why I'm glad newspapers still print obituaries, you can read about the most amazing lives.)" [source]

User: "I was starting to think the game was reading my mind and tailoring to me once he said his favorite color was lilac, and I was given the option to say darker purple." / Sylvia: "I'm glad you enjoyed Emmrich and his romance. And that the bit about colours worked for you, I was trying to think of what would be something fun there, and purple is one of my favorites too. (Fine taste!)" [source]

User: "“Down Among the Dead Men” is one of my favorite chapters from Tevinter Nights. I loved Audric and I was so happy when Myrna mentioned him in Veilguard! Was there any chance he might’ve appeared in game?" / Sylvia: "basically I didn't plan it, but I wanted to let TN readers know Audric is living well" [source]

User: "If Hezenkoss was also you ALL of that was a sheer stroke of brilliance!" / Sylvia: "Thank you! Hezenkoss was me, so glad you liked her. She was a blast to write. Oh my god, I meant to write Hezenkoss was one of my favorites not "me". (I think I snipped out something and consequentially sound like a maniac in that post above. SORRY. She is not me, I wish I had that kind of confidence.)" [source, two]

User, on behalf of their friend: "Well, spontaneously I'd be interested if she can say any more about Emmrich's past romances. Was there someone really serious among them, or all just fun and casual? I'm also curious how the whole mage training works in Nevarra. Are some trained from the start by the Mourn Watch or does everyone go to the Mortalitasi equivalent of a Circle first?" / Sylvia: "1. I think there was probably a mix of more serious romances and more casual ones over Emmrich's life. The serious ones just never panned out. (Until Rook, if you're romancing him.) 2. I pictured the MW taking in promising members from other circles, but I left their selection criteria vague on purpose, in case we needed to define it later. Of course, there's also exceptions. We've seen they take in some orphans or foundlings (MW Rook and Emmrich, for example) when fate, chance, or pity allows it. (I had an idea spirits might sometimes nudge MWers to take in someone, but that's not in the game, so it remains, I suppose now, my own head canon.)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "Emmrich is every bit the warm and kind academic that I looked up to in my undergrad/postgrad days, and I have taken time in the game just to wander the Grand Necropolis and take everything in." / Sylvia: "My pleasure, and thanks very much for saying so. (Props to all my teammates, it took a lot of people to bring those characters and places to life, and they were all so enthusiastic about our weird gothy corner of Thedas.)" [source]

User, on Emmrich's dream: "One of few cases where writers don't go for "actually immortality is lame" lesson to appease the audience for whom immortality is unattainable. Refreshing to have a character who wants to live forever, can do it, and it isn't treated as a mistake. One of the boldest bits of writing in the game." / Sylvia: "Thanks Mary - that was one of my aims, because so many times in stories, immortality is a fool's errand. I wanted it to have its rules, and its price, but not something disastrous or out of reach." [source]

User: "The MW as a whole was beautifully done and the way they handle life and death was deeply healing and aided tremendously in my own personal journey with grief." / Sylvia: "I'm very glad meeting Emmrich and the Watchers helped even a little, that means a lot to hear." [source]

User: "Amazing work in veilguard and inquisition honestly and the flame eternal was such a fun read! Unless it’s been answered before my query is where do the Mourn watchers live/sleep? Is it a case of they live in the higher parts of the Necropolis or do they live in the city and commute?" / Sylvia: "Flame Eternal was a fun one, hadn't written a story that short before but I enjoyed introducing Johanna and Emmrich's dynamic back in their good old days... As to your question, there's one line of banter between Emmrich and Neve that talks about this (so, very easy to miss.) The Mourn Watchers live and sleep in the upper (safer) levels of the Necropolis." [source, two]

User: "does mortal!Emmrich return to the Necropolis or spend more time in the world first? He plays detective with Neve & camps in Ferelden with Harding feels like he’d want to experience more of the world before returning home." / Sylvia: "Impossible for me to say what the future will hold with certainty, but I think Emmrich's enjoying exploring the world too much to go back to living in the Necropolis full time just yet. He'd certainly want to keep visiting regularly, but there's so much more to see." [source]

Sylvia: "The Watchers have a special place in my heart." [source]

User: "I just wanted to say how much I love Emmrich" / Sylvia: "Thank you very much! I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed getting to know him." [source]

at this point tumblr stopped letting me add to this post !

[pinkanonwrites]

As Our Fingers Entwine

The end of the trilogy!!! I hope you all enjoy, both newcomers and those who have been eagerly anticipating this piece! It is in fact NSFW, appropriate tags below. Read it on AO3 here!

TRIGUN STAMPEDE EPISODE 7 SPOILERS IN FIC BELOW!

Vash/Reader, 6,000+ Words, AFAB Reader but no specific pronouns used, mutual pining, body worship, frottage, vaginal sex, alien biology, praise kink, enthusiastic consent, begging

You couldn't say for certain why the ambience of the peaceful town didn't lull you to sleep the same way the rattling underbelly of the Sand Steamer seemed to, but you had a distinct feeling it was because you weren't right next to Vash.

You'd never admit it aloud, mainly for fear of revealing your painfully obvious affections for your blond companion, but nowadays you always slept better with Vash by your side. And as happy as Vash seemed to have a room to himself and time to catch his breath, a selfish little part of you had hoped he'd be cheap again, crowd the two of you into a single room to save a few double dollars. The last time you truly got to sleep side-by-side with him was a few bumpy hours on the Sand Steamer, before the incident with the Bad Lads and the shootout and the, well, the entire steamer nearly catastrophically crashing to pieces. There wasn't much sleeping on the bus ride into town either, no matter how exhausted the both of you were. 

And yet, when you collapsed face-first into the surprisingly comfy hotel bed, you found yourself agonizingly conscious. Somehow, a simple wall in between you and Vash was enough to keep you from getting a good night's sleep. Just when did you become so dependent? Now three nights have passed, each one spent tossing and turning, unable to get more than a few blissful moments of shuteye. It wasn't like you were scared, or even stressed! Your body had just acclimated to the idea of sleeping curled up next to Vash, and now without him…

"Hey, anybody home in there?"

"...Hmm? Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm listening." You hadn't realized you'd started to doze off at the diner table over your supper until Vash leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of your face. You jolted up, grabbing a wedge of your sandwich and jamming it quickly into your mouth as he gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, his salmon sandwich basically finished and his free hand twiddling a stray french fry back and forth across the plate. Ah, he must have been waiting for you.

"You're a little out of it today. Everything alright?"

You waved him off, taking a swig of water to force down the mouthful of bread and various fillings. "It's fine! Just not sleeping well, it's no big deal."

Your response didn't seem to soothe Vash's worries at all, as his little smile fell into a frown. "That's no good. Is everything alright? You don't feel unsafe or anything, do you?"

"Nonono, nothing like that, really!" His concern really shouldn't have been enough to fluster you, Vash would have been worried for just about anyone who looked as worn-out as you did. But it still hit a soft little spot in you, something eternally sensitive to Vash's care and attention that you had to do your absolute best to stifle basically every moment of every day. "It's just too quiet, you know? I'm not used to having a room to myself anymore, heh. Pretty silly, isn't it?"

Judging by the soft and further  furrowing of Vash's brow, your  placations did nothing to assuage his concern. "Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean."

Stay. Stay with me, always.

Yeah, right. Like you could actually say that out loud. You sunk further into your seat, feeling a bit like an insect under a magnifying glass in the face of his consideration. It felt as if one wrong word or move would suddenly and jarringly expose the affections you held for him that seemed so glaringly obvious at all times, always.

"I dunno. It's not a big deal, anyway. We don't have to worry about it."

He seemed to sense your own discomfort with the subject matter, and leaned gently back in his seat. "I saw there was a tailor in this town! If you want you can come with me tomorrow, maybe get that tear in your cloak patched up?"

You thumbed the rugged fabric edge in your hand, almost not wanting to. Vash had patched it for you last time, and though the job was a touch on the rough side you didn't exactly like the idea of someone undoing his heartfelt, albeit clumsy, stitchwork. But shopping with Vash? That definitely sounded like how you wanted to spend your afternoon.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Anywhere you wanna stop by?"

"Might pick up some ammo, but not much besides that!"

And you were certain that would be the end of it. Even after thumbing out a few double-dollars to pay for dinner, opening the diner door for you with a cartoonish bow, and chatting idly as the two of you made your way back towards the hotel, Vash didn’t broach the subject again. By the time you’d made it to the door of your room you were certain he’d forgotten about it. But just as you were about to wish him goodnight and slip through the crack of the doorway his hand came to rest upon the door handle, that familiar soft expression of concern sneaking back up across his face.

“If you wanted… I could stay until you fall asleep?" There was a distinct shyness about it, like he was genuinely afraid of what your reaction may be. "Just to see if it would help?" 

You blinked at him once, twice, needing a moment to process the words he was saying before it actually clicked in your mind. Face growing hot, you prayed your expression didn't fully give away your embarrassment as an image wormed itself into your brain, an image of yourself in Vash's arms, his lips resting on the jut of your collarbone peeking from the hem of your shirt, of warm hands on the soft dip of your hips climbing higher, and higher…

Seeming to take your extended silence as rejection, or worse, disgust, Vash began to frantically backpedal, hand flying from the doorknob to tangle in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "You can say no! I just wanted to offer. Maybe that was a little weird, huh? Sorry, you can forget about it.”

But you didn't want to forget. Forgetting meant a return to… To whatever you and Vash were before that first night you woke up and saw him gazing at the stars. Forgetting meant pulling away again, faking a smile, pretending there was nothing there when you so desperately wanted there to be. Forgetting meant not acknowledging that he kept offering his hand to you, and that out of your own foolish anxieties you kept drawing away. 

And yeah, maybe things could still go catastrophically wrong. But wasn't that what you loved about Vash in the first place? How the entire world could fall apart around him and he'd still get up again, offer you a smile and put his best foot forward? 

You loved him. You loved him. And you were fucking sick of pretending you didn't. Your fingertips had closed around the fabric of his sleeve before you could second-guess yourself. 

"Stay with me."

And oh, oh, if the expression that crawled its way up Vash's face wasn't worth any and every possible humiliation, rejection, or vague discomfort. Red bloomed up from his collar, creeping up his neck into his cheeks and the tops of his ears. He blinked twice behind his oversized lenses, gaze flicking from your face to where you'd gripped his sleeve and back again a few times over. A thin, wobbly smile snuck across his lips, making his relief obvious despite his conscious efforts to hide it. A peek of sharp canines glinted from the gap as he shot you a crooked, sheepish grin, despite being nearly as red in the face as his signature coat.

"Y-Yeah!" He winced at the way his own voice cracked, oblivious to just how endearing you found it. "Yeah, heh, no problem! Let me, let me get my… I'll be right back. Five minutes? Give me five minutes, pinkie promise."

He even interlocked his pinkie with your own, a small, familiar laugh sneaking out before he slipped, momentarily, from your grasp. You watched as he stumbled down the hall to his own room, fumbled the door handle once, twice, banging his body into the wooden frame before managing to get it open, never once taking his eyes off you until the door slipped closed. Cute.

You stepped into your own room, clicking on the bedside lamp and flooding it in a warm, yellowed glow. Shedding your day clothes as quickly as possible, you kicked them into a heap in the corner and scrambled into your pajamas, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Without Vash's buzzing, eager energy at your side you had just enough time before he returned to briefly feel incredibly embarrassed at your show of need, face growing hot as you replayed the little scene over and over in your mind. Your hand around his sleeve, his expressions, your choice of words… God, you were so obvious. Had he really not picked up on it at all? But he seemed so eager, as eager as you were at the very least. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been a little oblivious lately.

True to his word, it couldn't have been more than five minutes before you heard a soft knock on the door to your room. Standing on the other side was Vash, not clad in his signature red jacket but rather his familiar, beige pajamas. The worn out shirt hung loose around the collar with the sleeves draping just long enough to cover half of his hands, the loose elastic of the sweatpants held tight with an old, white drawstring. His hair was floppy and now shower-damp, hanging partially in his face as he gave you that so soft, so sweet little smile.

"You look comfy." He said, voice as soft as his grin.

"I could say the same for you." You responded, cracking a similar smile. Stepping to the side you let him join you in your room, door closing with a soft click as a palpable air of… something simmered between you two. Tension? Nervousness? It felt like a melting pot of just about everything you had or could feel when it came to Vash. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room as you flitted around him towards the bed.

"You should probably get some rest, huh? I'll just grab a seat at…" He gestured vaguely towards one of the two chairs set at the table by the window, words dropping from his lips as he watched you pat the open space in the bed next to you. He blinked again, face flushing pink once more.

"...Only if you want to." You added softly. He visibly swallowed, nodding so gently you could have almost missed it, and set his glasses on the nightstand with a soft clack. Carefully, hesitantly, he pulled back the covers and let himself into the bed beside you, moving like he was afraid at any moment you were going to change your mind and ask him to leave. 

You would never. You wanted him beside you. At all times, always.

He clicked off the lamp, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. A single stream of moonlight filtered between the thin curtains, falling diagonally across the bedroom floor and providing just enough light for you to keep Vash's face in view. When the two of you shared a sleeping bag for the first time the closeness was a necessity, there was nowhere else for you to go in the tiny shared space. But even now, with the width of the bed slim but still far greater than a sleeping bag could provide, you couldn't help but press yourself close to him. As always he was warm, so warm, heat radiating under the thin covers to soothe you, a constant thrum of energy just beneath his skin even when he was relaxed and doe-eyed as he was with you right now, laying on his side mirroring you, unable to look away. 

In this moment you couldn't help but consider that Vash was more alive than you had ever been in your own lifetime, or that you ever would be. He was a walking enigma, incredibly powerful yet so gentle, capable of such inhuman feats but so intimately, painfully fragile. Maybe you'd never fully understand him the way you wanted to, maybe there would always be secrets he couldn't share or stories he wouldn't tell. But you didn't mind, not as long as he was yours and you were his.

"Hi." He murmured, breath hot against your lips, that small, sappy smile never leaving his own.

"Hi." You replied. "Is this… Is this okay?"

"Yes." There was a relief in his voice, a borderline reverence. His hand hovered, briefly, coming to rest on the small of your hip and sending a jolt of need crawling up your spine fast enough to give you a headrush. "Are we… okay?"

"Always."

He let out a low, shuddering breath, hand flexing around your hip. "I haven't… I want… I want…" His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. He let out another breath, a short, warm huff as he hesitated, brow knit like even now he was afraid of the oncoming rejection, the inevitable hurt.

The two of you really had been completely oblivious, hadn't you?

You closed the gap yourself. Slowly, carefully, for no more than a few moments, you pressed your lips to his. He gasped when you did, a sharp, surprised inhale through his nose before his entire body seemed to melt into your several points of contact: your legs, his hand on your hip, your lips. You watched his eyes slide open again after you pulled away, crease in his brow receding as he blinked at you, almost owlishly.

"You kissed me." He murmured, that air of reverence returning to his voice.

"I did." You said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and that's because it was.

"You'll… You'll always be in danger. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"We're always going to be moving. You wouldn't rather settle down somewhere nice?"

"Not if you're not there."

He sucked in another shaky breath, corners of his eyes growing glassy and wet. "It won't… It won't be easy. Being with me. It's hard."

"Vash." You cupped his face with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise you it's not. It's really not."

He positively beamed, knocking his forehead against yours as he burst into quiet giggles. "You're really amazing, you know? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Your own laughter joined his, and any hint of apprehension or concern Vash may have still held seemed to melt away in the face of your smile. "Now shush. Kiss me again."

He was clumsy, clearly overeager as he pressed his lips to yours once more. It started as another soft, fluttering thing, then a second, then a third, before you tipped your chin up and opened your mouth into the next kiss, inviting him to do the same. Fingers tangled in his soft hair, you pressed further into him, tasting honey and sunlight as you licked into his open mouth and he moaned against your lips. You didn't even realize he was moving you until you found yourself on your back, Vash's sturdy build boxing you in, knees framing your thighs as his teeth clicked wetly against yours and he groaned again at the feeling of your mouth moving against his. It was a messy, relief-stricken thing, like finding sweet, cool water after a day trekking across the open dunes. His still-flesh hand gripped your hip, fingertips indenting your soft skin, but his prosthetic hand cradled your cheek so gently, with such veneration it could have brought you to tears. There was a wet smack and a sharp gasp when he finally pulled away, like he was coming up for air. A single sticky strand of saliva still connected your lips, and as you swiped it off of his lower lip with a smile he gave you a sheepish grin in return.

"You gotta breathe through your nose, Vash."

"I know, I just…" He watches as you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking off the smear of spit there. He gulps, teeth worrying his lower lip. "...Just got a bit sidetracked, is all."

When he leaned back in a second time his target wasn't your lips, but the gentle slope of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss upon you, relaxing when he heard your content hum and your fingers carded through the hairs at the base of his neck. Then he sucked a mark into the soft junction between your neck and exposed collarbone, teeth grazing and tongue lathing over the sensitive spot as you writhed beneath Vash's touch. His breath ghosted hotly over your neck, goosebumps prickling out across your skin as heat pooled low and eager in your stomach and you fisted one hand in the front of Vash's night shirt.

"Vash." You whined, and his low groan in response rumbled out against your already sensitive neck. "Vash." You moaned again, louder this time, needy but not completely sure what for. 

"Hmm?" His questioning hum was barely discernible from his soft, pleased groans, only the uptick at the end of the throaty sound cluing you in that Vash had even heard you at all. His lips rested on the curve of your jaw, thumb trailing back and forth across your cheekbone. You fisted the back of his shirt in one hand and tangled the other in his messy hair, whimpering at each barely-there kiss he left as he trailed his way up your jawbone to your ear. "You're so soft. So, so soft."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear and you couldn't help yourself, whining as your hips jerked up against his. His breath stuttered and he jolted back from you to blink with wide, shocked eyes. Immediately a hot flush of shame coursed through your body, searing behind your eyes and cheeks. Was he disappointed? Disgusted? 

"I'm so sorry." If you could shrink back and disappear you would, but it's not like there was anywhere for you to go. Vash's brow furrowed again for a moment before his eyes blew wide once more, immediately taking your face in both hands as gently as he could.

"No, no it's alright! There's nothing wrong you just- just surprised me a little! That's not bad! I just- Aw jeez." He pressed a kiss to your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. "Please don't cry. I promise I'm not upset or anything, so don't cry, okay?"

"I'm not gonna cry! I'm just… embarrassed." You mumbled between squished cheeks, eyes trained down and away from Vash's sympathetic smile.

“There’s no need to be.”

“I know that.” You whined, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand. You felt another fluttering kiss on the tip of your nose, and peeked through your fingers to find Vash beaming at you. There was a cautious apprehension behind his eyes now though, a similar fear to what you knew you were currently feeling.

“There is, uh, something I have to tell you though.” He fidgeted a little, not quite meeting your gaze. “It’s just that my body is kinda… Well, it’s a little… different? And I don’t want to freak you out or anything. But if you do freak out… That’s probably completely valid, I’ll be honest.”

“Vash, I’ve seen your scars before. You know I don’t mind, right?”

He winced a little, lower lip jutting out in a bit of a pout. “...That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a… It’s a PLANT thing.”

“Oh.” As Vash sat back on your thighs you propped yourself up a bit to meet his gaze. “Well, that’s alright too. I won’t judge you for anything you can’t control, Vash.”

“Yeah but it’s… It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Vash opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it, then shut it again, blush crawling its way up his cheeks with his fisted hands tucked into his lap. He twiddled his thumbs, worried his lower lip with his sharp teeth, and still failed to meet your gaze. 

"It's, uh, it's just that it's a bit… different. My, uh… y'know?"

You'd been pretty oblivious to Vash's affections for you, but that didn't mean you were stupid. The way his gaze flickered down and then back up again when he spoke? The way one hand fisted the fabric of his pants and the other remained firmly tucked between his thighs, not quite against his crotch but definitely blocking it from your view? You could at least put those puzzle pieces together.

You rubbed the top of his knee with your hand, and tension seemed to melt from his stance with your touch alone.

"Would you… be willing to show me?"

He grimaced a bit, continuing to nibble on his lower lip until you ran the thumb of your other hand across it, trying to soothe the reddened skin. "I just don't want to freak you out or anything, is all."

"You really think at this point there's anything you could do or say to freak me out?" You bumped your forehead against his, the same way he had for you just moments ago. "Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of stuck with me now." He barked out a laugh, saying nothing but finally meeting your gaze, so you continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake, but I also don't want you to run away from me. You trust me, right?"

"I do."

"Then trust that I won't run away either. I promise. I just want you, Vash, that's all."

He sucked in a shuddering breath, nodding softly against you. "Yeah. I want you too." Looking up at you through his eyelashes, he flashed you a cartoonish pout. "Maybe if someone gave me another kiss I'd get a bit braver?"

"You dork." You giggled, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him breathless once more. He leaned into you again, mouth open and eager, finally letting his hands trail back up your body where you'd wanted them. "Wait, switch with me."

"Hrmm? Whoa!" You wrestled Vash to the side, rolling the two of you over until you were now the one straddling his hips, not the other way around. He blinked up at you, mouth agape and lips slightly slick as he took in your form in the pale moonlight. "Oh. I could get used to a view like this."

With a single, sudden twist upwards of your arms, you pulled off your shirt and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed, baring your chest to him fully. Vash gasped, hands squeezing against your soft sides as his gaze raked over your form.

"This one too…" He murmured. Trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest, you fiddled with the hem at the bottom of his shirt, lifting a bit but not quite tugging.

"This okay?" 

He nodded, hands joining yours to help wrestle his shirt off over his head. Immediately you were upon him, a featherlight trail of lips and fingertips upon every inch of scarred skin, tracing the outline of the metal reinforcement over his left pectoral as gently as you could. Your thighs squeezed around his hips, the front of his loose pajama pants tented and straining where they met your clothed core. He was big, that much was obvious. Another roll of your hips, not accidental this time but intentional, left Vash gasping out a sharp, labored wheeze as his hips finally jerked forward against yours.

"Sensitive." He panted, shuddering helplessly as his hips stuttered forward again. "C-Careful, it's sensitive."

That sensitive, with several layers of clothes still between you? Now you were getting really curious. You rolled your hips again, friction sparking pleasure up your spine but it was nothing compared to the way Vash positively mewled, back arching and hips rutting erratically to meet you. A dark, damp spot was beginning to seep through the fabric at the tip. You cupped his clothed length with your hand as gently as you could. 'Sensitive.' You reminded yourself. But a bolt of surprise rocketed through you instead when you could swear that, just for a moment, you felt his cock squirm against you, pressing up into your hand without the aid of his hips.

"Please don't freak out." Vash wheezed. You squeezed his length again, pressing in firmly, but it was impossible to tell what writhing was from Vash squirming around and what came from, well, Vash squirming around.

"I'm not freaking out." You reassured him, and in all honesty you weren't. Were you surprised? Of course! But there wasn't really anything about Vash that could truly "freak you out" anymore, even this. You stroked his length through the fabric once more and watched that wet spot at the tip bloom farther and darker, Vash shivering like he'd just touched a live wire. "Is it okay to take these off? Only if you're okay with it."

You hooked a finger into the waistband and waited, Vash's gaze laser focused in on your hand. Slowly, carefully, he nodded. Fingers looped in the elastic of both his pajama pants and his boxers, you gave him plenty of time to change his mind as you tugged them down, Vash letting out a quiet, hitched gasp when his cock sprung free.

Well, Vash certainly wasn't lying about it being different. Arching upwards from between his legs was what you could only describe as a tentacle, thick base sprouting from slick folds at the apex of his thighs. It curled upwards towards his belly and tapered slim at the tip, beading semi-translucent liquid that dribbled down the length of the shaft. It wasn't the same shade as his skin; It was closer to a bluish-white, marked up the length with abstract patterning similar to the glyphs on the outside bulb of a PLANT. Vaguely you wondered if it was always out like this, or if it settled itself snugly within those wet, petal pink folds when he wasn't aroused. You had to think it did, if Vash was as sensitive as he made himself out to be, otherwise he'd be on the verge of cumming with each step he took.

On second thought, that wasn't a bad image either.

Vash gulped, squirming a bit under your gaze, knees pulling together but unable to close fully with your body in the way. "So, uh, you're not screaming. I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a good sign!" You smoothed a hand up the length of his thigh, pausing right at the junction of his hip, and his cock twitched towards you subconsciously like a writhing tendril. He seemed to shrink in on himself a little at this, shoulders pulling up towards his ears as he anticipated your reaction.

"Vash, God Vash… Do you even have any idea how pretty you are?" He had to know, you couldn't let him wake up tomorrow and just bumble around for the rest of his life not knowing. He was ethereal, scarred skin painted in hues of blush pink, cheeks burning, eyes soft and wide… He had to be a PLANT, because it just wasn't feasible for a normal human to be this achingly beautiful. "You're so, so pretty Vash."

"Oh." His breathing shuddered, hips twitching when you squeezed down on the fat of his thigh. 

"Sensitive, right? I'll be careful, just tell me if it's too much, okay?" Fingertips trailing off the junction of his hip, you finally, finally, closed your palm around his length. It was hot, slick to the touch everywhere you put your fingers on it, and you could swear for just a moment that those glyphs pulsed with a faint blue-white light as Vash whimpered. "This is okay?"

He nodded furiously, hands fisting the bed sheets as he all but gasped for air. "Good! It's good. I haven't, it's been a long time since I- ohhh please…" Another bead of thick, slippery pre-cum drooled from the tip, slicking your palm as you moved it so slowly up the length of his cock, squeezing slightly on the downstroke and making Vash's back go concave against the mattress as he moaned. Heat burned low in your core, and you wrestled a hand down the front of your pajama pants to stroke your own slick folds directly. You couldn't help but picture how the silky writhing of his cock would feel inside of your pussy, slick oozing around where your bodies would meet as it pushed upwards into your aching core…

"Me too…" Vash groaned, hand grabbing for the waistband of your pants as he struggled to sit up. "Lemme touch you too, please." You stumbled off the bed for only a moment, but it was still far enough to make Vash whine at your lack of contact. Slick from Vash's cock smeared across the fabric as you wrestled both the pants and your underwear onto the floor before crawling back into Vash's lap like you couldn't stand to be away from him for another moment. His hands found your hips the moment you were within reach, rubbing soothingly up and down the outer curve of your thighs as he stared down at you, eyes swirling with arousal and adoration.

"Beautiful." He murmured, pressing his lips once more against the curve of your neck. "Tell me what you like, tell me how I can make you feel good."

Hand around his wrist, you guided him to the dark patch of hair between your legs. His fingers crooked carefully, curiously, two fingertips swiping upwards through your wet folds and catching over your clit. He shuddered when you moaned, the very act of giving you pleasure seeming to do him the same. Finding your clit again, he rubbed over it with his fingertips in slow, almost soothing circles.

"That's good." You cooed, taking him in hand again. "You're so good for me, Vash, such a good boy."

"Yes!" He moaned, his metal hand coming around to grip your ass, urging you to roll your hips against his hand. "Yes, 'm good, I'm so good." Sharp teeth dragged over your collarbone, just hard enough to send a prickle of pleasure up your spine. As you began to rock your hips he pressed his hand further in, letting you grind your clit against the heel of his palm as he slid his middle finger into your entrance. The intrusion was slick, effortless, and you couldn't help but moan as he curled his finger against your soft, hot walls. You pumped him again, another thick glob of pre-cum dribbling over your fingers as his cock wriggled in your grasp. "You feel so good inside." He continued to babble, drooling against your neck as he whined and gasped. "Wanna… wanna feel you, so bad…"

"Yeah?" You purred, shifting your hips further up his. With how keyed up you were you doubted you'd even be able to last more than a thrust or two with Vash inside you, but still you wanted. Nudging his hand out from between your legs, you shifted your hips down to trap his cock in between your pussy and his tense stomach as you rolled your hips and let it slip messily back and forth between your folds. Vash positively howled, head tossed back against the pillows as his other hand came around to grip your ass as well.

"Yes! Yes, please, oh please wanna make you feel so good." Shifting your hips to align his tip with your entrance, he peppered wet kisses across your neck and up your cheek as you hovered over him. You tipped your head to catch his lips with your own, moaning into his eager mouth as you finally let him nudge into you. Euphoria crackled up your spine with each small movement, an almost unbearable heat between the two of you as he shifted you so gently down his slick cock. It was almost effortless the way he slid inside, your combined wetness leaving no room for pain around the incredible pleasure as he stuffed you full, coiling and massaging your walls as you finally found your thighs resting on his and your lungs gasping for air.

"Oh, oh Vash." He shuddered at the sound of your name leaving his lips, hips snapping forward and once again driving the breath out of you as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyelids.

"Sorry, 'm sorry, not gonna last. Gotta make you cum, fuck, please cum for me…" His chest pressed to yours and his face pressed into the curve of your jaw, his hips thrust forward again, and again, wriggling one hand in between your sweaty bodies to thumb eagerly at your clit, rolling the swollen bud beneath the pad. You wailed, pleasure prickling tears at the corners of your eyes as your stomach coiled tighter, pushed you higher. 

A sharp blossom of pain erupted from the crook of your neck, making you cry out as Vash growled against your skin. His sharp canines dug into your sensitive flesh, bruising the soft skin there and blooming pain and pleasure into a swirling cocktail of overwhelming sensation. You dug your nails hard into the flesh of his back, shivering helplessly in his grip. The desert had been cruel, and crueler still had been its people, but you would make sure that any marks you left on Vash would be ones he wasn't ashamed to show, to feel.

"Love you." You sobbed, bleary-eyed and desperate for release, babbling similar nonsense to Vash as you tumbled into pleasure-drunk ecstasy. "Love you, I love you I love you Vash!"

He wailed, teeth pressing further into your soft neck, hips stuttering forward once, twice more before he finally shuddered, pouring his load into your awaiting core. Molten heat flooded your pussy, sending you tumbling into your own release. Rapture flooded your senses, writhing in Vash's hold as waves of pleasure overtook you, walls fluttering helplessly around his length again, and again, and again. He was spilling so much into you, you could feel it pooling out around where the two of you were joined, slicking his thighs and inevitably staining the sheets below. Even as your own orgasm began to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure sparking in your mind, he was still spilling more into your fluttering heat.

"I love you." He sobbed into your neck, drool and tears dampening your skin as he clutched you tight, so tight. "Love you so much." His tongue lathed over the bruise his teeth had left behind, a silent apology for daring to leave a single mark upon your body. With a final, shaky thrust of his hips, he seemed to spill the last of his cum into you, muscles relaxing with a stifled groan. You curled a hand in the hair at the base of his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple as he nuzzled into you. He whined as his cock seemed to slip from your heat of its own accord, another gush of hot slick spilling from your entrance as it went limp.

"I've got you, baby." You cooed. Slumping gently into his lap and ignoring the sticky-slick feeling cooling between your bodies, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's gentle hold.

"...They're probably gonna charge you extra for cleaning, you know?" He quipped, and you could feel him grimace a little at the tacky feeling between your thighs. "A lot extra."

"I'll take my chances." 

He guffawed against your neck, dragging you down to the mattress with him in a sticky heap. You curled into the curve of his body, head resting on his shoulder. His arm immediately rose to curl around you, pulling you tight against his side.

"Mmh, we should probably clean up." You mumbled, eyelids already beginning to flutter.

"...Five minutes?" He rumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"Mmm… Five minutes."

[feyhunter78]

I’m actually DYING for part 14 of the Dreadful Need of the Devotee, like my pain is clinical and your writing is the only thing that will cure me 🙏

No rush of course, I’m just in love with this story!! (But please, I need it badly)

I got you babe!!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter Fourteen - Ser Arthur Dayne has returned to court. Ch 15

Jon sits in Tyrion’s solar, the small table that sits between you all laden down with breakfast foods and teas. He is seated across from Tyrion, while you are seated next to Jon across from Ser Arthur, your soon-to-be good-father.

Introductions had gone well, you complimented his father, he complimented you, your betrothal was announced, and Jon had to keep himself from kissing you. The joy that radiated from you was so intense, he could not help but smile like a lovesick fool. But now, now the doubts begin to creep in.

If he had been told at the age of two and ten, he would be sitting with his soon-to-be wife a Lannister, the Imp Lannister and Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning who was also his true father, Jon would not have believed whoever spoke such things to him. Truly he would have thought them playing a cruel joke, but now he sat in that very position wondering if it would all be revealed a horrid prank. A test to see how much the bastard boy could be convinced to believe.

You place your hand atop Jon’s where it rests on his knee, your brows furrowing in concern, and he waves you off, focusing on the meal set in front of him. You and him often broke fast together, and it was not too uncommon for your father to join the both of you, but this time it was different.

“Lady y/n, your father tells me you are a talented seamstress.” His father says, cutting into his sausage, his eyes, those dark purple eyes, so like Jon’s in the right light, observe you with an oddly formal air.

“I am, in fact the tunic Jon is wearing this morn is one I made myself.” You say, gracing Jon with a smile so bright it rivals the sun, and he turns further towards you following it as crops do, ever reaching, ever seeking your warmth and light.

His father hums in acknowledgement, examining every stitch of his tunic. “It is well-made; and the embroidery is quite detailed. It is not what one would think a sworn sword would be given by his charge.”

“He is my champion, seen as an extension of myself, I would never leave my chambers in rags, or dull, dreary clothing, so why should my sworn sword?” You say, taking a sip of your tea, sizing the man up.

“An interesting perspective.” His father comments, his eyes flickering to Jon.

“I suppose so.” You respond, dabbing your mouth with your cloth napkin.

“She is also a wonderful dancer.” Jon adds, unsure of his place in the conversation. He has never before been privy to these situations, and it is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I am only wonderful because I have such an excellent partner that allows me to keep my skills sharp.” You smile prettily at him, and he watches the mask slip into place, you are attempting to charm the father by charming the son.

“They are a most excellent pairing, even Robert before he oh so tragically passed said they would make a good couple.” Tyrion says, spreading strawberry jam onto a thick slice of bread.

If I were not a bastard. He said we would be a good match if I was not a bastard. Jon thought bitterly.

“It pains me to know my son had love within his grasp for so long and could not claim it, I would soon see that rectified.” His father says, pulling a folded letter from his pocket. “I have kept this for you, it is a signed statement from the septon that presided over your mother, and I’s wedding. It was quick, not the lavish affair I would have wished to give her, but it was true in the eyes of The Seven.”

Jon feels you lean into him, reading the letter along with him.

“I fear it will not be enough. Aunt Cersei tore up Uncle Robert’s will, what if someone does the same to this?” You ask.

“Your Uncle Robert was dead he could not defend his will, but Ser Arthur is here, in the flesh.” Tyrion says.

Jon folds the letter and returns it to his father. “When would this take place? I would like to inform my siblings; they should not hear it from strangers or gossip.”

“They know, Lord Stark told them and Lady Stark once I had confirmed Ser Arthur was alive and wished to see you.” Tyrion assures him.

Jon pokes at his eggs, the yolk running, yellow-orange liquid tainting the white outer edges. He is glad the truth is known, but will this change how they see him? Will little Arya no longer trust him, will she keep him at a distance as Sansa had now that he is revealed as an impostor, a stranger? And Robb, his brother, will he still call him by that name, will he still hold the same love for him? At least Lady Catelyn will no longer have reason to hate him, he is not proof of her husband’s indiscretions, but his love for his sister.

“Where does Jon fall in the line of succession for Starfell?” Y/N directs the question towards his father, bringing him out of his gloom-stricken thoughts. “I know Lord Edric Dayne is your eldest brother’s son, but he is still a child close to Arya’s age, and your sister does not yet have children, does this not make him third after you?”

His father smirks and leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Do you wish him to be second?”

You mimic his posture, voice deadly calm, face unreadable. “I do not condone the murder of children, even if it would catapult Jon to heir of Starfell. I was merely asking a question.”

His father laughs, the sound warm, boisterous, filling the room as he leans back in his chair. “Your father has taught you well, lioness. But yes, Jon is third, if Edric, Seven forbid, were to die then I would take the seat, and Jon would follow after me.”

“We need not worry about that though, he will be by my side at Casterly Rock, is that not right, Father?” You hold your position, eyes still on Jon’s father.

“I have not yet heard word back on our family’s succession, your grandsire still holds out hope that Jaime will leave the Kingsguard and return home.” Tyrion drawls, before taking a sip of his tea.

“But he will not, and even if he did, would it not be shameful?” You venture, stirring your own tea with the tiny spoon provided.

“We shall see what options lay before him when our new king takes the throne, he could take Jaime’s head.” Tyrion says, his eyes on his bread, he has still not taken a bite, Jon feels confident that Tyrion will not be eating this morn.

“I am sure Robb will be merciful to Uncle Jaime, perhaps he could send him to the Wall? As loathe I am to think of him being sent far away, I imagine his skills would be of good use there?” You turn to Jon for confirmation.

Jon’s stomach churns, he wishes to tell you the truth, that it matters not what Robb thinks. “Yes, they are always in need of skilled and hearty men.”

“Oh, and then we could visit him, could we not?” Again, your question is directed at him, and he fights back the bile rising in his throat. He did not like this new weight, this new secret he must keep from you.

“The Wall is a long journey, even from Winterfell.”

“No journey is too long when it comes to family.” You say, dismissing his spoken worries with a smile and a wave of your hand.

“Little lion, perhaps we save our travel plans for after the new king arrives?” Tyrion suggests, seeming unfazed by the half-truths that roll off his tongue.

“Of course, Father.” You say, giving him a smile and tucking back into your breakfast.

Jon cannot eat, he can barely swallow. He wants to tell you the truth, wants to throw you over his shoulder and run, run all the way to Winterfell and hide you there until all this chaos has subsided.

“I think a wedding in Dorne is completely out of the question Ser Arthur, do you really believe people would attend a Lannister wedding that is not held at Casterly Rock or the Red Keep?” Tyrion says, pulling him back into the conversation that had proceeded without him.

“But it is not a Lannister wedding, it is a Dayne wedding.” His father smiles, sending Jon a wink.

“My daughter is a Lannister, in the eyes of Westeros it is a Lannister wedding, and truly it must be held at Casterly Rock, gods know the Red Keep has seen enough weddings.”

“House Martell will not attend if it is at Casterly Rock, which means Myrcella will not attend.” His father reminds Tyrion.

“Father could it not be held somewhere more neutral? I so want Myrcella to be able to attend.” You ask, looking at him pleadingly.

“I am sure once the new king comes into power, the Martells will not hold the same anger towards our family as they once did.” Tyrion reassures you, reaching across the small circular table to pat your hand.

Yes, because all who they hold anger towards will be dead. Jon thinks solemnly, guilt eating him alive.

“I will trust you then.” You say, before turning to Jon’s father. “Ser Arthur, are there any marital traditions that you would like us to observed for the wedding?”

He thinks for a moment, resting his hand on his chin, the dark stubble so like Jon’s but flecked with gray. “There are none that come to my mind at the moment, but I will think on it and if any return to me, I will inform you.”

“No bedding ceremony.” Jon says, he will fight for this, not only to spare you the brutality, but as an apology for the secrets he must keep.

“I will not argue with that.” You laugh, picking up two strawberries and handing one to him as you bite into the other one.

Jon takes it from you, his teeth breaking the delicate flesh, the sweet juice tasting like ash on his tongue.

The look upon Cersei Lannister’s face when his father steps into Highgarden’s Great Hall, is enough to make Jon forget why he is even standing before the royal family. His father wears a cloak of lilac, the white sword and falling star crossed in the center proudly displayed, Dawn strapped to his side. His curls are cleaned and styled, his beard trimmed, his armor and boots shining. When he takes a knee bowing his head to Tommen, Jon does the same, feeling a flicker of excitement when their knees hit the floor at the same time. Perfect synchronicity.

“Ser Arthur?” The startled exhale of his father’s name escapes Ser Jamie’s lips before he can stop it, his conflicted expression betraying far more than simply shock. There is grief, rage, longing, and confusion all whirling within Ser Jamie’s widened emerald eyes.

“My King, I have come to ask that you legitimize my son. I have brought the parchment signed by the septon that married myself and Lady Lyanna Stark. Jon is not a snow, he is a Dayne, my trueborn and only child.”

Tommen does not move, does not speak, he looks at Margaery who has her hand in her grandmother’s.

“Let us see this parchment.” Lady Tyrell says, holding a wizened hand out.

His father rises, and Jon does as well, watching as he delivers the paper to Lady Tyrell, who shares it with Margaery.

“You were thought dead Ser Dayne, why did you not return to King's Landing to take up in the service of your new king when my husband ascended to the throne?” Cersei asks, her jade eyes alight with rage, sparking like wildfire.

“I was badly injured at the Tower of Joy and was unable to make the journey for many years.”

“Unable to make the journey and to retrieve your son, it seems.” Cersei drawls, skimming the parchment, then handing it to Ser Jaime.

Jon can see how his hands shake, the color draining from his face.

“I was told Lord Stark treated him kindly, as if he were his own son, it was better for him to remain there than at the bedside of a nearly crippled man.” The shame that colors his tone clearly tugs on Tommen’s heartstrings.

He has not dared to think what his life would have been like if he had lived with his father. All he knows is he would not have met you, and he does not consider that much a life at all.

Tommen clears his throat, looking at Margaery once more, she nods.

“Ser Dayne, you swore an oath, Kingsguard cannot marry or have children.” Cersei cuts in, stepping forward, her head held high.

Jon bites his tongue hard. The irony in her statement…

His father fares better, nodding his head towards her, his tone steady. “I am no longer a whitecloak, I lost the right to that title when I aided Prince Rhaegar in stealing away my dear Lyanna. I am only a knight of the realm now, Queen Mother.”

Tommen goes to speak, surely in agreement with his mother, but Margaery puts her hand on his arm and leans down to whisper in his ear.

Jon tries not to fidget, tries not to look at you, you who sits beside your father, dressed in a well-tailored gown the shade of pomegranates, your hair swept away from your face, a golden pendant around your neck. He will ruin it all if he looks at you.

His father puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“In honor of my queen’s nameday I will grant her request. Ser Jon Snow, you shall no longer be a Snow, but a Dayne, Lord or Ser Jon, whichever you would like, of House Dayne, son of Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning.” Tommen says, smiling brightly when Margaery plants a chaste kiss of thanks to his cheek.

His father gives his thanks, bowing low. Jon follows his example, keeping his expression grateful but neutral as they return to the sidelines, ducking behind the crowds of nobles as Tommen and Margaery begin to leave the hall. It is only when they have disappeared from view that his father embraces him, crushing him to his chest.

Jon returns the embrace, joy running wild through him.

His father pulls back, a wide smile on his tanned face. “My son, oh, it is good to say that aloud, to say it where anyone can hear. We must celebrate, do you have a preference for wine? ”

“No, Father.” Jon tests the word out, rolling it on his tongue, it feels strange but pleasant. “I do not.”

His father smiles. “We shall soon fix that, but first, you must return to your duties, no?” He jerks his head towards you.

Jon nods. “I must.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain

[burningcheese-merchant]

What do you think of a burningcheese vampire au? Any head cannons to recommend?

That's certainly an interesting idea. One I admittedly never considered until now lol. Was never one for vampires (even in my cringey Twilight phase at age 11, I liked Jacob more lol), but I want and need BurningCheese in every possible timeline so let's see what I can come up with here

How about, instead of vampires that are harmed by the sun, we have vampires that are the opposite? That are empowered by the sun and weakened by the moon? With both Golden Cheese and Burning Spice already coming from hot places, I think that lends itself to that sort of arguably more fitting table-flip

With this in mind, let's look at the routes we can go down.

Vampire Burning Spice:

Cursed by a wizard/shaman/whatever as they lay dying in the ruins of a civilization BS had just destroyed

BS looks exactly the same as before, which enables him to hide what he's become quite easily

He becomes a full-on cannibal as a result of his curse/transformation. Already being violent and figuratively bloodthirsty allows him to quench his literal bloodthirst easily; he just munches on arms and legs + chugs whatever pours out of slit throats + gobbles up whatever he tears out of chest/stomach cavities to get his fix (and also the curse might have driven him slightly madder than he already was before, which is also why he's escalated from just torturing and killing people to eating them as well)

Very weak and lethargic at night. It is fire, heat, and sunlight that help keep him going; when the sun sets, he becomes tired and tends to squirrel himself away somewhere, skulking around in the shadows, waiting for day to return

Soul Jam becomes a huge crutch at night because of the aforementioned weakness to night/moonlight

Doesn't know how to turn anyone else into a vampire, or even if he can. Doesn't really care about that tbh. Or he didn't, until...

...He met and fell in love with Golden Cheese lol. His beautiful little bird. His precious Soul Jam thief. His sweet, delicious prey, with that scrumptious, intoxicating blood that he can smell from dozens of feet away, that he can almost hear pumping through those delicate veins... oh, those fights they had were hard on Burning Spice. She made him so hungry, in more ways than one. He craves her, he truly does. And he shall have her, in every way that he wants. What's she going to do about it, anyway? Kill him?

Golden Cheese, being stuck with a literal fucking vampire cannibal in love/obsessed with her and hunting her down constantly, tries to find a way to break his curse, if only to prevent any additional suffering to innocents and get him off of her ass even a little bit

Vampire Golden Cheese

In her grief and desperation to revive her subjects and restore her kingdom, GC ended up resorting to strange magic that she didn't understand, which backfired on her terribly as a result

Lives in almost complete seclusion, trying to maintain as much distance as she can between herself and... anyone, really. She would never forgive herself if she gave in to her newfound instincts and harmed someone for the sake of this disgusting, unholy appetite

She really is ashamed of herself. For her foolishness, for her cowardice... for the way she can feel her own mouth start to water when she watches the cheesebirds go about their work... She's damned herself and what few treasures she has left, by doing what she did. And now it's yet another albatross around her neck, that she'll have to carry for... who knows how long

Tries to channel her inner Dark Cacao and maintain extreme self-control and discipline at all times. Denies her bloodlust for as long as possible, until she truly cannot take it anymore (and then she just goes out and eats jelly worms, no matter how bad they taste)

Realizes she's weaker at night and does most of her work during that time, as it's when she poses less of a threat to the cheesebirds and any other life in the area

Same as V!BS, she relies on her Soul Jam to keep her strength up at night

Tries to find a cure for her predicament in any way she can without directly informing anyone of what's happened because she's too proud to admit she fucked up this badly and she fears that everyone will turn against her and persecute her

Fuck's sake, some buffalo looking bozo kidnaps her and drags her to Beast-Yeast and now she has to fight this big buff guy and... why is he looking at her like that? Why is he talking to her like that? They met five minutes ago and he already sounds smitten with her, what the fuck is this. She just wants to go home and get back to trying to fix herself-

WHY DID HE FOLLOW HER HOME? SHE LEFT HIM BURIED UNDER HIS TEMPLE, HE SHOWS UP ON HER LAND HARDLY A MONTH LATER, OH GOD WHAT DOES HE WANT-

Welp. He discovers what's wrong with her. And he coerces her into letting him stick around in exchange for his silence. At least he said he'd help...? But how he'll do so remains a profoundly irritating mystery...

That's what I have for now. I'll think of more later bc I already know people are going to flood my inbox asking for more of this lol

[cringe--is--dead]

“Where do you think you’re off to?”

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to process the question, clutching the sweater you had blearily grabbed like a life line. You turned, seeing your husband standing at the end of the kitchen, hands on his hips, an annoyed look on his face.

Instead of answering him, a muffle sniff came from you, the small movement causing pain to radiate through your skull. Shane seemed to see this, the disgruntled look melting into something far softer as he stepped to you.

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t have the strength to shake his hands off as he guided you back to your bedroom.

“Shane— there’s so much I gotta do today,” Your voice sounded hoarse and weak, the short sentence making your throat feel even dryer.

He leveled you with a look as he gently pushed you back onto the bed, gently laying you back, bringing one of the soft quilts Marnie had gifted you to cover your body.

“The only thing you need to worry about is getting better,” He rested his hand against your forehead, frowning at what he felt, “Besides— it’s raining cats and dogs out there. The crops are getting watered, the cats are all inside and the animals are in their barns. You got nothing to worry about.”

You huffed, not having even noticed the weather outside. Now that it had been brought to your attention you could hear the rain pelting off of the roof, the distant clap of thunder occasionally. He smiled as you melted further into the bed, heading back to the kitchen, mumbling something that sounded vaguely like, “That’s what I thought.”

You felt a little dip in the bed, your little tabby, Miso, having jumped up on bed with you, nuzzling your side with a soothing purr. Seemed even the pets knew you weren’t feeling too well.

You sighed. It had been a few years since you moved here, and honestly, it felt wrong not being up and moving. You hadn’t given yourself days off in forever, always finding something to do. Clearing weeds, planting and harvesting crops, pressing fruits or veggies into jams and pickled items, delivering any requested items, visiting Sandy or the island, going into the mines. Your days were full and busy from sun up to well past sundown.

So with it being, you glanced at the clock, eight in the morning, and you were still in bed, you felt worse for wear.

“Hey,” Shane had made his way back into the bedroom, holding a steaming mug, and you realized that you weren’t able to smell whatever it was he brought you, “Stop overthinking.”

You frowned as he sat next to you, placing the mug on the table, “You a mind reader now?”

“No,” He soothed your hair from your face, his palm soft and warm against your face, “I just know my spouse a little too well.”

You huffed, the closest you could get to laughing without it hurting your head. He tapped your nose once, twice. You blinked, the action jarring each time. He laughed quietly.

“You work hard every single day, every season. It’s a miracle you haven’t fallen sick before.” He frowned, “Well, I suppose, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick since we’ve been married.”

That was true. Before, when you had lived alone, you always pushed yourself. You felt like an outsider, having to do more to prove your worth in this town. You had often worked despite not being able to breathe through your nose or see straight.

Now, you had Shane, who stopped you before you had even made it out of your home.

“You’re allowed to take time off,” He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there a moment before pulling back, “I don’t wanna get a call from Harvey cause someone found you passed out in the mines, okay? You rest, I’ll take care of you.”

Oh.

“I don’t fuckin’ need you here,” You knew his words were harsh, but there was no bite behind his voice.

He sounded sad, he sounded angry, so many emotions but none truly directed at you. You merely hummed, putting your bag down. He glared at you from his bed, a look you hadn’t been on the receiving end of for quite a while now.

“ ‘m serious,” He made no move to sit up or shift in bed, eyes tired and droopy, “Just let me sit here.”

“The crops have been growing quite well this season,” You started talking, pulling out a few containers from your bag, some still warm food you’d cooked earlier today, “I’m rather proud of them. Haley’s happy I have a little sunflower garden going this season, said she’d been decorating her room with vases of them. But you know what I’m most proud of this season?”

You turned around, holding up a blue container, Shane’s silence and unwavering stare your only response, “Got some good hot peppers going this summer,” You placed the container on the bedside table, turning away to grab some utensils you had packed, missing the way Shane’s eyebrows rose, the angry front dropping as he sat up, seeing freshly made pepper poppers sat next to him.

“I had to get Marnie to try them, ‘cause I’m still rusty with cooking,” You snorted, remembering the mess that was your kitchen after you tried baking a simple cake for the first time, “But she said I had all but perfected the recipe by now, so hopefully you can—”

You turned around, words dying in your throat as you saw silent tears falling down Shane’s cheeks, holding the container and staring at it as if it held all the answers he’d ever needed.

“Shane?”

He looked up, eyes searching your face, scanning and looking for something. He cleared his throat, “Why— why did…”

Oh. You knelt down next to his bed, feeling tears fill your own eyes, “I meant what I told you before, Shane. You’re my friend, and I care about you. You have so many people here who do, and I know that going through all of this is going to be hard, and I just need to show you that I’ll be here with you, every step you allow me to.”

He snorted, covering his face, hiding away as best as he could, “It’s just— I’m so tired. Of all of these. Of feeling like this,” His hand dropped enough that you could see his bloodshot eyes, tears still falling, “I’m so tired.”

You took his other hand, “You rest, I’ll take care of you.”

You must have been staring for a bit, cause you watched as heat slowly made it’s way across your husband’s cheeks, “What?”

“Nothing,” You whispered, leaning back further into the soft cocoon of your sheets and pillows, “I just love you, that’s all.”

No matter how many times you said it, those little words are ones Shane would never grow tired of. He sighed, watching as you slowly fell back into unconsciousness.

“I love you too,” He leaned across to pet Miso, “I thank Yoba everyday that you mover here.”